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blackbird-brewster · 1 month

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Meta: Jemily Queerbaiting

With the huge influx of posts saying 'Jemily is gonna be canon', I really appreciated seeing this post because OP was completely correct. I didn't want to write an entire dissertation as a reply, so I'm making my own post with my personal opinion on this. (All sources are noted in footnotes)

Before I began this rant, for anyone who thinks this is anti-Jemily. It is not. I have shipped Jemily for 18 friggin years and that's never going to change. This post is specifically my thoughts about queer baiting.

First off, I need to note that the showrunners (and the cast members who use social media) KNOW what a huge queer following this show has and that's why we got pansexual Tara Lewis in S16 [1]. Which, in itself, was SOOOOOOO important!!! Our first canonically queer main in SIXTEEN seasons was a middle-aged Black woman!!! That's phenomenal. (The fact it was horrible rep, because they instantly ruined her relationships once her queerness served it's plot point is a whole other post entirely)

In my opinion, the 'big Jemily moment' Paget posted about on Twitter [2] (and AJ hinted at during a recent IG live) is simply queerbaiting to get people to watch S17. I know a lot of you are newer to the fandom and I love your enthusiasm, I really do, ship and let ship, but listen, let's be real, Jemily is not going to be made canon. The showrunners aren't going to suddenly say (after 17 seasons) 'Surprise, Jemily is endgame'. This show has never cared about queer rep and now that CBS/Paramount have already ticked their queer rep box with Tara, they won't be in any rush to add any other characters to it.

Please buckle in, I've got a lot of thoughts on this matter --

What is Queerbaiting?

If you aren't aware of what queerbaiting is, here's a good definition:

Historically, queerbaiting has carried two meanings: the first is an act of aggressive heterosexuality to shut down queer subtext on screen while still teasing and catering to the queer audience in advertising, public relations, and fan engagement strategies; the second is an existing homoerotic tension between two characters played up on screen while met with derision by the professionals behind the scenes. [3]

The Medium article quoted here is from 2017, a time when parasocial relationships were really starting to take over social media. In 2024, actors are now only a mention or tag away online, they have direct conversations with fans, and this process has allowed for an even deeper form of queerbaiting.

Oftentimes online, actors are asked directly about certain ships and while some ignore these questions (usually to avoid breaking their contracts or other repercussions), others (looking at you, Paget) choose to instead tease fans about queer ships. She's done this for years upon years and if I've learned anything in the past twenty-years of existing in fandom spaces it's this -- don't hold your breath. In it's original meaning, for something to be deemed as queerbaiting there had to be malicious, or at least, purposeful intent to string queer fans along by teasing them with suggestive content about the ship in question, while knowing this ship will never come to fruition in canon.

The thing to remember is, Paget and AJ aren't the only ones who know about Jemily shippers -- the network and showrunners are well aware of this ship too. When networks/showrunners figure out they have a strong sapphic fanbase, they love to use that to their advantage to get more viewers and higher ratings. Queerbaiting is a goldmine to keep fans watching long running shows, look at Rizzoli and Isles, Supergirl, and OUAT for examples of this.

Jemily and Queerbaiting:

Ever since Emily joined the BAU in S2 (2006), there have always been fans who ship JJ/Emily (shoutout to the old LJ forums!). Way before celebs were just a tweet away from fans, back when all our fics began with disclaimers so we wouldn't get sued by networks, we went to great lengths to keep our fanworks far removed from actors/showrunners attention.

As far as Jemily goes, this reply from Paget in a 2009 interview with TVGuide.com [4] (which has now been deleted from their site unfortunately, but there are quotes on Tumblr still [4.a]) confirmed some fans' worst fear -- the actors had found our fanworks online.

TVGuide.com: Of course, a band of fans want her to hook up with Hotch.

Brewster: I know! I didn't realize that fans make these videos on YouTube? A.J. Cook sent me a hilarious one that made it look like Prentiss and J.J. were having a secret lesbian affair. You know, when Hotch was blown up in the SUV, we shot this scene where he's in the hospital and I'm standing next to him, looking at his bleeding ear. Our director came in and said, "Paget, you're looking at Hotch like you're in love with him. It looks really weird." So now, every day, Thomas [Gibson] and I flutter our eyelids at each other.

This was the first time I recall anyone acknowledging Jemily shippers publicly and at the time (Jan 2009), the show was still in Season Four (just before CBS fired both AJ and Paget [5]). Paget genuinely said it's 'hilarious' that fans shipped JJ/Emily. Even now, I'll see people say 'We know Paget and AJ have seen Jemily fanvids, so they obviously ship it too' -- but those same people rarely acknowledge the full context of the original answer. Paget not only thought JJ/Emily were 'hilarious', but then she doubled down and turned her reply back to how she and Thomas liked to play up the chemistry between Emily/Hotch.

While no one can say for sure which video it was that AJ sent Paget, just knowing they were watching JJ/Emily fanvids sent a bit of a shockwave through the femslash side of the fandom. To some it felt like an invasion of privacy, fanworks are by fans for fans -- knowing the cast were poking around in fandom spaces added an extra layer of worry around what we fans were posting online. Fifteen years ago, it used to be quite taboo for actors to outwardly discuss shipping or other fanon for whatever show they were in, and we fans were usually comfortably removed from the actors altogether.

Of course, now it's the norm for fans and actors/showrunners to co-exist online and interact with one another. This connection has opened new ways for shows to queerbait their fans. Pretty much every show has some form of social media account now and there is no doubt that the people running those accounts keep up with the most popular ships and hashtags. Not to mention that actors are constantly barraged with questions about whether they ship their character with x,y,z, or whether they think a ship should be made canon, etc. These interactions only serve to benefit the shows themselves, because whether the conversation is for or against a certain ship, it's all just free publicity (Why do you think CM now has a TikTok account?)

Every time AJ or Paget say anything about Jemily, the queer side of the fandom loses their minds. But this has been going on for YEARS now and every single time, it turns out to be nothing but social media hype and queerbaiting. Remember this AJ post? [6] Or what about the notorious reply by Paget to a fan, where she talks about how she and AJ held hands under the table 'for the shippers' [7] I've seen this cycle over and over again, so perhaps I am cynical, but I'm not getting my hopes up that Jemily will ever seriously be canon.

It's widely known now, after both Kirsten [8] and Paget [9] have talked about it, that there was an early idea where Prentiss was supposed to be queer, but that was ultimately scraped before it ever made it on screen. For context, please remember, this show has been airing for nearly twenty years. It began in 2005, during the highly conservative Bush administration. Queer people didn't have rights in the US, we couldn't get married, we were rarely protected under discrimination laws, and we could even be fired for simply being queer (in some states). Diverse queer representation on screen was extremely limited to things like 'The L Word' and 'Queer as Folk' (both aired on Showtime, so they were behind a paywall. And as far as tLw goes, that show was extremely male-gaze focused and is horrible in nearly all regards if you try to rewatch it now). As far as prime time shows went, queer rep was even more rare. Which is why Emily wasn't queer from the get-go.

Yes, things have changed since 2006 in terms of queer rep on TV. We have a myriad of queer identities represented in TV and film nowadays, which is why I think it's so easy for newer fans to say 'lf she was supposed to be gay anyway, they should just make Emily queer in canon!' I know this is what fuels most fans' demands for Emily being confirmed queer, and I get it, I DO. I would be all for it! However, I do not, in one hundred years, actually believe that is going to happen after they already canonically queer confirmed Tara in S16. The fact we even got ONE queer character is ground-breaking for this show.

It's also worth noting, that in the time between Paget's departure in 2012 and her return in 2016, she became very active on Twitter. This was when more and more fans began asking her about Jemily and after Kirsten's AfterEllen interview, fans also pushed for Paget to address the possibility of Emily being gay. 'Pushed' is actually an understatement for some of the outright harassment she would receive. (AJ received some of this harassment too, but less so because she doesn't use social media ass often) Back then, neither of them replied to these things directly. Yet, no matter what either woman posted, the replies were full of Jemily stans begging for her acknowledgement. (Did you know 'stan' is literally a term coined for stalker fans?) I remember one time AJ's friend was missing and she posted info on her IG about it, you know what the replies were? People asking her about Jemily. It was genuinely sickening.

Within this context, it was no surprise to fans when Emily came back in S12 , she and JJ's friendship was seemingly erased. The two women were rarely on screen together in the late seasons, plus the writers saw fit to even give Emily not only one (Mark in London, but two, on-screen boyfriends for the first time in the entire series. I personally do not think these changes to Emily's character were coincidence, I saw the hellscape of what people would say to AJ and Paget online and I fully believe that upon Paget's return to the show, the showrunners purposely tried to distance JJ and Emily to dissuade the more abusive side of the fanbase.

Can I prove that, no. But it is the only reason I can think of as to why Emily S12+ seemingly didn't care about JJ anymore, despite their deep and meaningful friendship. I mean, they both CROSSED THE WORLD to go rescue each other in prior canon -- but when Emily comes back, they acted like they barely knew each other. This was even more prevalent in S16, when JJ's main storylines all revolved around Will, and Emily barely looked at JJ in the entirety of ten episodes. (Remember how Prentiss didn't even hug JJ after bomb, but she did go hug Luke?)

So, do Paget and AJ earnestly ship Jemily, or are they continuing the long tradition of queerbaiting us? Who fucking knows, not me. But based on the history of this fandom, I think I can make a safe bet. (Interestingly, if you search all of Paget's twitter for the word 'Jemily' [10] she only has 3 direct tweets mentioning the ship. I don't think it's a coincidence that two are within the past few months since they started filming S17 (the other one was a RT of Kirsten (who tagged something Jemily)

This is all to say --

Just because Paget and AJ have publicly talked about Jemily,, this doesn't mean it's ever going to happen on screen. And you know what, THAT'S OKAY!! There has been this constant outcry (after Tara became queer confirmed) of 'Do Emily next' or 'Why wasn't it Emily with a girlfriend!?' and 'Jemily needs to be canon in S17!' -- as if people believe their ships aren't worth anything unless they are canon.

That couldn't be further from the truth! Fandom is built on headcanons and fan interpretations and rare pairs and all types of shippers. Your ship does NOT need to be canon for you to enjoy it. I will ship Jemily forever, no matter what. I don't think there will be some magical queer plot in S17, at best, we might actually get to see Emily/JJ on screen together again and after the train wreck that was S16 -- I'll take whatever I can get.

And hey -- if I am completely wrong, if Erica Messer pulls a Korrasami out of her hat, I will be ecstatic. I will be happy to be proved wrong, but at the same time, I'm not going to lose sleep over it and I'm DEFINITELY not going to go hound the actors about it on social media.

Sources:

[1] 2022 Digital Spy article about the importance of Tara's coming out

[2] 04/18/24 Paget Tweet

[3] 2017 Queerbaiting article from medium.com

[4] 2009 Broken TVGuide link

[4.a] Tumblr quote from the above TVGuide Interview

[5] 2010 Kirsten interview screenrant.com

[6] 2019 AJ Instagram Post

[7] 2020 Paget video on Twitter (via @karasluthqr)

[8] 2015 Kirsten interview AfterEllen.com

[9] 2016 Paget Interview CriminalMindsFans.com

[10] @PagetPaget search 'Jemily'

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #paget brewster #aj cook #cm commentary #queerbaiting #cm meta #criminal minds evolution #cm evolution #my writing #long post

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randombush3 · 1 year

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But She’s A Stranger

florence pugh x footballer!reader

summary: originally titled ‘saved’, because that’s what you and this blonde woman seem to be doing for each other

words: 10048

warnings: none (😮)

notes: okay i know i said no more football fics, but i couldn’t help myself. i really couldn’t and you’re going to have to deal with that!

a few of my fav things about writing this include having to check flo’s instagram to see what hairstyle she’s had at what time, creating multiple timelines of club transfers to keep things consistent, and learning catalan! i speak spanish and quite a bit of french so it could have been worse. i also don’t explicitly say this (i think) but the reader played for wolfsburg when she was in germany.

January is fucking freezing. The wind is biting and it rains a lot, clouds lingering, having had to hide for Christmas. The days are grey and dark, trainings are hard, and you’re miserable about being stuck in England after spending a week in Cuba.

You walk down Portobello Road simply because your sister forced you to watch that Hugh Grant rom-com and you’ve got a bit of time before you need to get back to St. Albans. After exploring most of the main road, you stray into a side street, and then another… and another. Until you’re slightly lost (very lost) and in need of food.

Florence Pugh is having a peaceful cup of coffee to make her feel like she’s had a productive day.

Her head snaps to the door when the bell chimes. People don’t often come in here. You sort-of-stumble inside, first looking as if you’re going to walk right out, then settling.

While she is sitting at her usual table (the one in the corner, always with a tulip in the vase), you are aimlessly flitting from seat to seat, deciding on whether this place is worth your precious time. Something about the confusion in your eyes draws Flo in, try as she might to remain incognito. “It’s good,” is all she says, barely looking up from her book, not wanting to have the safety of anonymity stripped away. You glance at the pale blue ceramic mug sitting on her table, and walk to the counter.

“Please could I have whatever she has,” you tell the barista, who takes a moment to understand what you’ve said and then nods with a smug smile. She had been hoping someone would have a little coffee romance in her café.

“Would you like that to go?”

You check your watch.

Hòstia.

Maybe you got carried away on your adventure.

It’s 3.47pm.

Jonas requested everyone meet for team bowling at four, expecting most of you to have been eating lunch together anyway (as that usually happens on Saturdays with the Arsenal women’s football team). Even if you weren’t known to be the most punctual on the squad, getting to St. Albans for that time when it’s 3.47pm now is impossible.

You smile nervously at the woman serving you, and Flo is now intrigued as to why such a beautiful woman looks so terrified.

“Yeah, to go would be great, thanks.” She nods and you are left waiting there, foot tapping, time ticking, nowhere interesting to look other than into those green eyes peering at you from the other side of the room. “Could you… Could you make it quickly, please?”

Flo snorts.

Someone’s just invaded her little sanctuary and then told the barista to hurry up, and she can’t help but find the awkwardness fucking attractive. Like you’re some action in a tranquil day, a rain cloud in a blue sky.

Zach is going to be listening to a very long rant about this later.

It strikes her that you seem different to anyone else she has ever met, though she can barely say to have met you. The way you carry yourself with an air of importance but a dash of humility, the way an accent she can’t place curls around your words, the way you frown at your phone as you furiously type away text after text at the object of your frustration.

The way your eyes meet hers when you realise you’re being stared at.

Before she can defend herself, give you some bullshit about the wall behind you, the barista hands you your coffee. “Thank you,” you say, smiling, though it feels a little ingenuine considering the speed the words tumble out.

As you switch your phone off and reach out to the machine in front of you, the barista grimaces. “Our card machine is broken, sorry. It’s cash only.”

Well she didn’t mention that before.

You gave your last bits of cash to Jordan, having lost some stupid bet about how many of her shots you could save. She said you’d keep a clean sheet; you were humble and said she’d get one past you.

“Merda,” you mutter. Looking up at the barista, you reply, “I’m so sorry, but I don’t have any cash on me,” a little panicked and ready to risk it all by dashing out of the shop.

You and the barista exchange a helpless look. She needs the money, but you don’t have it. It’s frankly super awkward, and makes Flo squirm in her seat. She really has to put a stop to this, she can’t bear to watch you and the barista be struck dumb any longer.

She stands and walks over to you, “here,” handing the barista a fiver and trying her best to ignore how your jaw goes slack. Have you recognised her?

(No, you’re just wondering how it’s possible to be this attracted to a stranger.)

(Like, this is one of those moments when you truly are no better than a man.)

“Oh!” you exclaim, finding words again. “You don’t—”

“It’s okay,” she says calmly, though she feels anything but. You have eyes that seem to pierce through her. “You can just buy me—”

But whatever smooth remark she is about to make is plucked from her tongue and swallowed by an aggressively abnormal ringtone. It’s a new experience to be shut down by a duck quacking, and an unwelcome one too.

You grimace once again, finding that this supposedly simple detour has caused more chaos than £5.00 coffee is worth. The caller in question is Beth Mead, recently granted close-friend status after she found you mid panic attack in the gym having been overwhelmed by the watt bike, having to constantly use your third language, and the fact that Ona was being a little standoffish the last time you spoke (you were being dramatic — she hung up on you in favour of going clubbing with her own team). Beth won’t tell you this, but Jonas realised you were struggling in London at the start of the season and asked her to keep an eye on you.

Keeping an eye on you has, apparently, turned her into your mother.

“Where are you?” is what she greets you with, her annoyance drowning out the faint sounds of a bowling alley in the background. “You can’t skip mandatory team bonding.” After a pause, the woman on the other end of the line seems to soften. “Are you okay? You’re not lost, are you?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh, glancing at the stranger who you are now in debt to. She’s retreated back to her table, accepting defeat, allowing the universe to quell her potential one-night-stand or more. “I’m in Notting Hill. I got distracted by a café, but I’ll be on my way shortly.”

“You’ll be here in an hour, then,” says Beth, unimpressed. “I’m telling Jonas that you got lost, it’ll save you a lecture.”

“Thank you.” You’re grateful for Beth. “I’ll call a taxi now.”

Florence looks at you dumbly. You spare her a concerned look, but then realise she may have been… No, that’s absurd.

“Thank you,” you say once more, this time directed at the blonde, the curve of your lips undeniably attractive and the glint in your eye even more so. Flo nods curtly, attempting to save face, and then forces her eyes back onto Dune. It’s far less interesting than that entire interaction, but what can she do?

The door of the café shuts with a little click, the bell chiming once more, but Flo refuses to watch you leave. That’s creepy, she tells herself.

In truth, as you get into the taxi pulled up outside, you glance back at her, wondering who she is. Why does she look familiar?

You’re seconds away from figuring it out, having a right old lesbian ponder in the car, when Beth pops her head through the abruptly opened car door. “Hola,” she tries, “estas aqui, finalmente.”

“Sí, estoy aqui,” you reply, grinning. She realises your smile might be slightly mocking, pride replaced with slight frustration. “You tried. I’m sure you will improve.”

“It’s not fair if I’m trying to make you more comfortable and you keep talking to me in English,” she groans, but you wave her off.

“I’m grateful, but I need to practice my English.” The pretty blonde woman is worth the struggle. Not that you’re going to talk to her anytime soon. Because you don’t have her number. Or know her name. So really this is all a fantasy, and you’re being a little wistful and probably very horny. Thinking about it, the last time you slept with someone was at least two months ago, and even then it wasn’t the most mind-blowing night of your life. It’s not like the pretty blonde woman is your soulmate.

- - -

She becomes a dream for about a month, something that maybe happened but has become somewhat a fantasy.

As usual, your mother nags you about needing to date someone every time you call her, but unlike previous times where you find it easy to protest and defend your independence (loneliness), you understand what she means.

It’s so fucking stupid that you’re obsessed with a stranger, but it’s the truth.

How embarrassing.

On the 27th February, you forgo playing against Liverpool in favour of attending a big fundraiser for a mental health charity; an event your brother has strongly encouraged you to go to.

You realise why when you get there.

The banner adorning the entrance to the venue clearly states who tonight’s host is: Tomàs L/n. There is the same picture of him plastered around the place; chest puffed out proudly, his Barcelona kit underneath a blazer. No wonder he was so mysterious about this thing. His lack of warning means you actually have to do little interviews, wondering if anyone really cares what you have to say.

“How do you feel about your brother’s recent increase in his involvement with this charity?” a reporter asks you, mic held to your face as if you have an opinion on this.

“I think it’s good,” you reply vaguely. “It’s good to support something you are passionate about.” You can’t say anything else because you haven’t been briefed by his (admittedly over-bearing) publicist.

“You’re missing a match for this, despite playing time being hard to get for goalkeepers. Is family more important to you than your career — seeing as you need the minutes to be selected for the upcoming Euros?”

An odd question, but okay.

Minutes are difficult, but you’ve been first choice all season. The Euros squad will be finalised in early June, though your agent is confident in your selection. “I think that supporting my family should always come first.” You smile. You’re on camera. “And it is a good cause.”

There’s a surge of movement behind you, shuffling and shouting, clamouring for attention. Cameras begin to flash excessively, and before you can turn around, your brother is beside you.

“Hi,” he greets the reporter, grinning with sparkling teeth and a glint in his eye. “Could I borrow her, thanks!” He places a hand on your shoulder and steers you further into the crowd until you reach a corner that isn’t deserted enough to draw attention to the two of you. It being towards the back of the venue makes it somewhere that feels less exposed than the edges nearing the press

“Fuck you,” you hiss in Catalan, happy to switch back to something natural now that you’re alone. “You’re such a dickhead.” He came all the way from Spain to host this event, but you suspect this isn’t the actual reason for his trip.

“Am not,” comes his indignant reply. You scoff, rolling your eyes at his ridiculous ensemble. “Oh, you don’t like the suit? Cèlia said the same. Dolce&Gabbana sent it.”

“Yeah, well, your wife and I are right. It’s awful.” It’s very… loud. Crimson with golden roses. “I’m getting a headache just looking at you.”

“No,” he waves off with a smirk, “that’s from hitting your head against the goalpost.”

“You saw that?” you ask, scrunching your nose up at the memory. You had saved the ball at the price of a few brain cells, luckily scraping a pass in the concussion test you were forced to sit through.

“I’ve started watching your games more,” he admits earnestly. “Barça want you back, you know. You could come home.”

So this is why he’s here.

“To not be played at all?” you retort, walls going right up.

“They’d be crazy to not put you in goal now, and it’s good to play with the national team in the league. That’s easier if you’re actually in the country.” National camps have been going just fine. “I mean, haven’t you had enough of hiding abroad?”

You think about it for a moment. “Not really, no.” An indignant scoff follows, and then, “I have been back, you know. I flew to Barcelona that one time — and then I got the train from there to Madrid.” Plus, your old teammates (and national teammates) go on enough holidays for you to scrape by nervously in Ibiza and Mallorca, and relax in countries further away.

“Y/n, she left the country four years ago. You couldn’t possibly run into her.”

“My chances of that are even smaller in England,” you state firmly. You spent three years in Germany and she still managed to find you twice, conveniently appearing in her stupid, American law firm’s Munich office.. Away from mainland Europe is a safer bet, surely. “Maybe you could copy me and transfer to Arsenal, just like you copied me when I got into the Barcelona academy.”

- - -

Florence hates events held by footballers.

She rarely goes, and doesn’t if avoidable, but the cause is a good one and her publicist wants the media to paint her as a passive advocate for mental health awareness. Nothing too abrasive, but a quiet reminder of her support. It’s quite clever, really.

Sulking in the corner, she sips her martini with a scowl, watching the crowd wearily. The invitees are not her type of people and most seem to have cleared out Dolce&Gabbana’s SALE rack. The guy in front of her is the perfect example, golden roses sprawling across the back of his crimson blazer.

Internally, she rolls her eyes, taking another sip of her drink. This is unbelievable and won’t get interesting until the auction in two hours.

The man in front of her steps to the side slightly, revealing that he hasn’t been talking to himself but rather to someone who looks strangely familiar.

Your eyes meet hers and there’s a moment where you both go into mild panic mode. The recognition in your stare quickly turns into desperation as your mouth moves rapidly to reply to your brother’s opinions. Florence doesn’t understand the conversation at all, but realises she’s being asked for help.

The confidence people see in her usually isn’t real, but she squares her shoulders and walks up to you and the man.

“There you are!” She’s an actress for a reason. “I was just about to get another drink — I’ve been looking for you for ages.”

Your brother’s eyes narrow.

She slips an arm around your waist, hiding any shock about your muscular form, pretending she knows your name. You lean into her.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Flo has half a mind to send him a glare, but you do it for her. “Tomàs, no hi tonaré.”

The venom in your tone does something to Flo’s blood pressure. It’s sort of… sexy.

“What was that about?” she asks once you’re by the bar, snapping you out of a moody trance.

“My brother?” Your brother is Tomàs L/n. Interesting. (If Flo knew the first thing about the football world, she’d have realised who you were by now, but she doesn’t and so you remain nameless.) “He was being stupid. It doesn’t matter now. Thank you for saving me.”

She finds that she would’ve done it again in a heartbeat, which is a little weird considering she doesn’t know who you are. Flo secretly decides to chalk that one down to having just gotten out of a long-term relationship and needing someone to latch onto.

“No problem,” she replies with a smile. “I believe you owe me a drink…”

You smile. “Two martinis, please.” The bartender nods, looking exasperated by the demands of the overflowing bar.

“That’s my favourite,” Flo says — sort of whispers — as she bashfully looks away. The faint blush creeping up her neck and cheeks is hidden well enough by the blue lighting of the place. “How was your coffee?”

For a moment, you look at her blankly and her heart drops with embarrassment. Then, you let out a little laugh.

“I didn’t drink it. It spilled all over me in the taxi!”

“All that stress for nothing, huh?”

Not nothing, you think, but you’re not brave enough to tell her that. “I was recently introduced to Café Nero, and that tastes the most—”

“No!” Flo explains, pressing her hand to her heart. “That’s unacceptable.” You shake your head, laughing more, and she wants nothing but to hear it on repeat for the rest of her life.

“British coffee is unacceptable,” you answer, rolling your eyes. “But I found this place called Reinetta the other day. Very Spanish, very brilliant.”

“Are you from Spain?”

What a genius.

Your incredulous look quickly goes when you realise she’s serious.

“Yeah!” She notices how your smile grows wider but your eyes become a little haunted. “Hablo español,” you say with a smirk, sending her a superfluous wink.

And, if the bartender hadn’t interrupted by serving you your drinks, you would be well aware of how red she goes.

She takes a sip, groaning in appreciation. “This is a good—” She turns around suddenly, squinting at the woman waving at her in the crowd looking furious. “Fuck, I can’t believe I forgot. I’ve got to go.” You catch sight of the person she’s looking at; a stern-faced publicist wading her way through the mass of people to get to her client. In a last ditch attempt of actually getting to know you, she throws out, “you should totally show me this Spanish coffee place,” and rushes off to meet her publicist.

You stand stock-still. Stunned. Oh, that definitely gave you goosebumps.

The rest of your evening is mostly passive aggressive. With hardly anyone else to talk to, you end up hovering in whatever conversation circle your brother is in.

At the soonest possible moment, you leave and join the late-night recovery dinner at Beth’s house, earning wolf-whistles from everyone as you bundle through the door in your formal attire. Beth tells you to change almost immediately, throwing you a t-shirt and jog pants. “Recovery is all about wearing pyjamas,” she says, matter-of-fact. “And eating.”

“What have you made?”

She gives you a wry grin. “Come find out.”

The girls are sitting around her table, eagerly awaiting your arrival so they can tuck in. Jordan, Katie, Jen, Steph, and (surprisingly) Viv are all eyeing the food like starving wolves would look at a herd of sheep. It smells good and familiar and like Beth has kidnapped your abuela and chained her to a paella pan…?

You seem to fill with energy at the sight of the dish, and Katie announces she’s done being patient, spooning a hefty portion onto her plate and prompting Steph to do the same. They begin eating while you remain a little taken aback.

Beth nudges you. “I called Less and practically begged her to give me Ona’s number last week, sending her a text once I got it — to which your friend took bloody ages to reply. And then she was very difficult about when she could FaceTime, so when we eventually could I ended up making a mini version of her paella and memorising the recipe.” Her rambling is nervous. “But I sent her a picture of this one and she said it looked delicious.”

“Déu n’hi do, it looks delicious,” you agree, sitting down as quickly as possible and piling some onto your plate. Mouth now full, you continue, “it tastes like my mother’s cooking! It’s great, Beth, really.”

“She can cook,” Katie proclaims proudly, directing her statement at Viv; you think, for a moment, that she is going to list all of her positive qualities. Your eyes narrow and Beth shoots you a look that says ‘later’. “Y/n, can you cook?”

You almost choke on a prawn. “I can make pesto pasta. That’s it.”

Jen’s jaw drops. “You’ve only been eating pesto pasta this season?!” she asks, sounding scared.

“Yes, because I chose a club without Ona.” At Wolfsburg, you didn’t live on your own. Here you do. “I don’t mind. But Beth might have to make this weekly.”

“Absolutely not. This drained me more than any game of football ever could.” Beth motions at everyone to keep on eating, feeling accomplished that the meal is good. “Katie scored twice today.”

“Did you now?” She nods her head very proudly. “I bet I could’ve scored today.”

The laughter turns into silence as you eat contently, something that is broken when Jen goes, “where were you?”

The thought of having to talk about it causes you to grip your fork tighter, earning Beth’s hand on your shoulder. “Some charity event, right?” she replies for you. “Tomàs hosted it.”

“He came from Spain?”

“Yes,” you answer, and the girls hear how badly you don’t want to talk about this.

No one here knows exactly what happened, but when you abruptly transferred from Barcelona to Wolfsburg four years ago, you allegedly haven’t been back to Barcelona for longer than a day. Ona was saying to Beth the other day that with some convincing you can be persuaded to Ibiza (you’re about to be invited to two trips to the Balearic Islands), but anything on the mainland is strictly business — camps, games, the like.

Everyone has their theories, but Katie and Jenny think something happened between you and your brother. It’s not like you didn’t say outright in an interview that you have had a far better career than him despite being younger, yet he’s the one being paid €12 million a year.

“Guess what Ruesha fucking did yesterday,” Katie changes the topic.

Everyone groans.

“No one cares, Katie. Like I couldn’t care less.” Beth bites her lip to not laugh at Jen’s words. “Y/n, what’s happening in your love life? Got a girl, boy, cat?”

Feeling a bit like a deer caught in headlights, you look up from your plate. “I met a girl in a coffee shop in January. She was pretty.” You wonder how her interviews went. “I saw her today, actually. But I don’t date so—”

“You don’t date?” Steph asks, eyes widened a little.

“Yeah, because, like, it’s hard… with football.” They look at you like you’re a dog tearing apart a slipper: so unbelievably unimpressed. “Because it’s time consuming?”

In reality, you don’t date because your ex is the reason you can’t even be in mainland Europe, but they do not have to know that.

“So what’s this girl’s name and how did you go out with her if you were at an event?” Beth asks and it sounds a bit too much like a police interrogation for you to feel comfortable.

You shift your weight in your seat.

“I don’t know. She was just there.”

- - -

It’s the middle of March when you’re back in Notting Hill. With training sessions left, right, and centre, you’d been pretty much confined to St. Alban’s and Beth’s house for social activity. Today is a rare day-off, coincidentally aligning with both Manchester United’s schedule and Manchester City’s. Ona has dragged Leila, Laia, and Vicky down to London to see you.

“I can’t believe we had to come to you,” is the first thing Vicky says when you meet them at Euston.

“Wow, not even a ‘hello’,” you say back. “Come on, we’re going to a market.”

They roll their eyes. All of them. At the same time.

You wonder why you ever missed them.

Laia is the only one interested in Portobello, darting from stall to stall to another, excitedly giving you a rundown on her life while she does. Leila is hungry, and ruthlessly cuts her off.

“We get it. You felt sad for a week. I need coffee, Y/n, take me to a coffee shop.”

“It was more than sad,” Laia protests, but acquiesces to the group’s change of plans.

You lead them to the place you found in January — maybe this time you’ll actually get to try the coffee. But on the way there, Laia finds a mildly creepy clothes shop and manages to herd you inside. She flings clothes at the girls, while glaring at you for flirting with the shop assistant instead of letting the woman do her job and help.

You’re halfway to getting her number when there’s a commotion outside and the mood lighting of the shop is ruined by bright camera flashes.

For a moment, you wonder if they’re for you. People could have thought your brother was here, and the paparazzi love him.

But there’s something familiar about the voice shouting at them to back off; the rasp, the accent. Curiously, you look out of the window.

It’s her.

With brown hair?

Flo catches your eye immediately, and it doesn’t take much thinking for you to dash out of the shop to grab her hand and pull her inside.

The paparazzi have no choice but to crowd around the window, except none of their shots will turn out well once the shop assistant closes the blinds.

“Gracias,” Flo pants, out of breath.

Leila’s eyebrows shoot right up, closely followed by the rest of the girls. “Y/n, that’s Florence Pugh,” she blurts, thankfully in Spanish.

“Y/n?” Flo tries. Now she knows your name and her stomach feels settled with endearance. Your name suits you. “Thank you for saving me. I needed it.”

“I owed you,” comes your reply as you shrug.

“Y/n saves things for a living!” Ona butts in.

(Is she sabotaging you or being your wingwoman?)

There’s a tense silence, of which no one knows what to fill it with, until the shop assistant opens the blinds and informs Flo that the coast is clear. It takes that statement then to be repeated to snap you and Flo out of the mildly creepy eye contact you’re sharing, but once it does she can’t seem to look at you again.

She inhales and resets herself. “Right. I’ll be off. Things to do, people to see.”

“Yes,” you reply, beginning to feel embarrassed in front of your friends’ keen and watchful eyes. “Yes, yeah. Bye.”

“Bye, Y/n.”

With that, you let the woman you’ve been thinking about for months walk away, out of the shop, and down the street. You give yourself an internal kick for lacking the game you know you have in three other languages, but rub it better because now you know her name.

Florence Pugh. Like the actress from that creepy cult film Obi was obsessed with. And the girl from that Marvel movie.

You pause.

“The actress Florence Pugh?” Your question has Leila shoving her Wikipedia in your face. British actress, born in Oxford on 3rd January 1996. Florence Rose Pugh. Maybe you’d heard someone call her Flo before? “Oh, this is the girl I’ve been meaning to tell you about.”

“The girl with no name is Florence fucking Pugh?” Leila shrieks, hands on your shoulders, shaking you. “You know I love Marvel!”

“Sorry,” you chuckle, amused by her overreaction.

Vicky catches your eye, looking like she wants to say something.

Laia does it for her.

“You need to learn how to flirt in English, because that was atrocious.”

You glare at them both. Partly because it’s true.

“The Y/n who fucked four women in a week at the grand old age of eighteen did not just say — no, splutter — ‘yes, yeah, bye’ because she was looking at a pretty girl,” Vicky adds, smugly. “We have finally found the language barrier between Y/n and sex! Round of applause please!”

“Alright, alright,” Ona says, coming to the rescue. “Stop teasing her when she looks like a lovesick puppy.”

Fuck you too, Ona.

“Florence Pugh is practically a stranger.” You look at Leila, “we are not getting married.” You look at Vicky, “she is not being invited to dinner tonight.” You look at Laia, “she will not be upgrading your train tickets to first class.” And finally, you look at Señorita Ona Battle; the woman who has been your closest friend for years. “I am not in love.”

“I’m sure she’s in love too,” Ona says, pushing it.

“But she’s a stranger!”

Your friends are delusional because you’ve been over it in your head millions of times, clinging onto the shreds of interaction, and you can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve met the woman. Florence Pugh can possibly be categorised as a celebrity crush at best. What Ona is talking about is way too serious.

- - -

Flo is certain that Ibiza is a good idea. Or so she tells herself.

And, well, Harris tells her.

He thinks she’s been in a bit of a slump since she and Zach broke up. While Flo can barely talk about it without wanting to cry, she mourns the loss in a very vocal manner to her closest friends. She misses him quite a bit.

Harris allows her a month of moaning before putting his foot down; vetoing Flo not joining them in Ibiza because she is sad. “You’re single, you’re hot, and you’re one of the most sought-after actresses and you don’t want to go on a hot-girl vacation…?” His puzzlement is almost comical when he asks. “It’s for my birthday, babe. You can’t not come.”

Her valid apprehension is quelled with the promise of lots of alcohol and sun, and so this is how she ends up on the Spanish island. Harris calls this a ‘come-back curve’ — when you let loose again after being in a long-term relationship.

It’s fun, really. The beach, the time with friends, the drinking. This is the kind of life she had coveted during her youth; the one most believe comes with the fame. When there aren’t any cameras in her face, she feels at peace with her situation.

(Is this what getting over someone feels like?)

Except for one, tiny problem.

Whenever Will drags them all to a nightclub and pumps her full of vodka, she manages to avoid the gaze of every pair of eyes looking for someone to sleep with. Usually, Flo after ten vodka shots would be on top of someone or on her way out, but the days go by and she can’t help but cockblock herself.

She racks her brains to figure out the cause, the reason, but there is nothing in it apart from the echo of your laughter and the sound of you speaking Spanish. She closes her eyes and she can picture you, clear as day, grinning right back at her. She is not okay with it.

Obviously.

Despite the idea of you throwing her off her game, she is still easily convinced to venture out to nightclubs. Leading her here.

Paraíso.

It’s sticky inside; surfaces, people, floor. And packed. Bodies pressed to other bodies, hair trapped, shouting, screaming, singing.

For an already drunk group of people, it’s perfect.

Crammed into a booth in the heart of the club, Flo and her friends do two rounds of lemon drops, the sugar going everywhere. When her nose scrunches at the bitter taste of the rind, Harris snaps a picture, says he’ll post it later.

Good, she thinks. Maybe you will see her having fun.

If one was to ask, and Flo decided not to lie, it would be revealed that she has spent every night this week making her way through articles about you. Your Instagram didn’t take long to find, nor to scroll through, but it saddens her slightly to discover how little people write about you, and how much they write about your brother.

She is dignified enough to refrain from scouring your Wikipedia page.

Funnily enough, you have been doing the same, though the material to get through is significantly more substantial. Mapi has taken to calling it your ‘bedtime reading’, prompting you to announce very loudly to every guest sitting in your family villa in Ibiza that you own the place.

Well, your dad does. (Same thing though.)

Housed in said villa are Mapi and Ingrid, Ona, Laia, Leila, Patri, and Pina. Beth, Jordan, Leah and a few of their England teammates have come along too, staying in a boutique hotel not far away; about a fifteen minute walk. The groups merged very quickly after a bottle of wine.

As you get further into the holiday, you dive deeper into Florence Pugh’s digital footprint, and everyone else is very over it.

“This obsession isn’t cute,” Patri teases, snatching your phone as you spread out on the sofa. “But Leila wanted me to let you know that Florence Pugh is in Ibiza.” Your heart clenches hard; this could be a heart attack. “Oh, and we’re all going out tonight. England girls and us lot. Ingrid is also banning Spanish in case they think we’re talking about them, Pina broke the shower on the third floor, and Laia has fed that stray cat so much that it is now curled up in her bed.”

You glare.

Many of those things are so unbelievably far from ideal.

Patri raises her hands in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

In time, you wish you had and that your evening was being wasted away in jail, because this place is loud and busy and it is far from acceptable for you to go back to internet-stalking Florence Pugh around such interesting company.

The England girls have chosen a club called Paraíso, though you wouldn’t have known from the way they pronounced it. Most of them are dancing, but Beth, cheeks flushed from a few vodka sodas, has sat next to you in the booth, looking like she’s about to pour her heart out.

You turn to her. “Go on, then. Tell me about you and Viv.” And she grins like that’s the best thing she’s ever heard, launching you into a timeline of events that have you feeling disappointed in yourself about your situation.

If it all hadn’t been ruined, you could have been able to reciprocate the conversation.

It’s a bit like a knife to the stomach to be reminded of something you don’t have.

Eventually, Beth is finished, eyes shining because she is so happy with her and you are so supportive of it. She cares what you think, and is glad you approve.

“I’m going to get a drink,” you say, deciding there’s not enough alcohol in the world to make you feel better but that you can at least try. Beth nods and finds the others on the dance floor.

The bar is well staffed, and it takes all of two minutes for you to place an order of three Jägerbombs. All for you, but you hesitate to tell the bartender that.

Someone brushes your arm and your stomach drops to the floor.

“Hi,” she says, practically sparkling under the club lighting.

This is why you don’t come home. Fucking hell.

“¿Inglés?” you question, raising an eyebrow. Adela used to hate having to learn the language.

“Vivo en Nueva York en la actualidad.”

Tomàs was right. She doesn’t live in Spain anymore. So why is she here? Why is she in the last slice of your home country you can be persuaded to let loose in? Why does she have to ruin everything?

Though time feels frozen, someone else has placed their hand on your waist. You tense as you turn around, but hope Adela doesn’t see it.

When you realise it’s Florence Pugh, you are very close to running away to Australia in search of complete isolation.

“Hey, babe,” Florence drawls casually. She’s an actress, you remind yourself. Improvisation is a skill she’ll be great at. “You alright?” Her hand squeezes your waist in reassurance.

Flo’s hair is blonde again. It looks nice.

“Yeah,” you breathe, feeling a heat pulse through your body. “Just waiting on some Jägerbombs.”

Flo stands her ground. She wants to wait with you. She doesn’t want to leave you alone with the beautiful woman who’s got you on edge.

Is it wrong to feel protective over a stranger?

(Neither of you feel like such — a consequence of extreme internet-stalking on both ends.)

“¿Tu novia?” Adela asks. You smirk at the flash of jealousy in her eyes. “Pensé que estabas follando a todos a la vista como siempre.”

“No, es mi novia. ¿Tienes un problema con eso?” She shakes her head. “Bueno.”

“Sí.” She looks Flo dead in the eyes. “Adiós.”

The two of you let the silence take over, both aware of how she’s still got her hand on your waist, now with her body pressed up against yours.

“Your ex?” Flo asks, praying it doesn’t sound hopeful. There’s no way you’re not into women, right?

“Yeah,” you answer miserably.

She adjusts herself so that you’re now facing each other, but it only aids you both in feeling a little turned on. Seeing the other looking just as flustered does nothing to quell the possibility of where this night is going.

“Want to get out of here?”

She grins. You take that as a yes.

Her hands are sweaty as they cling to yours, but the club is packed now and she’d get lost if she didn’t hold on. Getting outside is like a rebirth, fresh air washing away the grime and a soft breeze cooling her down. That is until you look at her, biting your bottom lip.

“You can if you want,” she whispers as you sort of back yourselves into the alley beside the building. You place your hands firmly on her waist.

You smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” And with that you close the space between you, pressing your lips against hers and a hand against the wall to support you both. She kisses back desperately, opening her mouth, clashing her teeth on yours. Her hands run up your back, wrapping around your neck.

You make out for a while, before she pulls away.

“I’ll call a taxi to my hotel.” She gives you the opportunity to text Ona.

You: no volveré esta noche

You’re about to tell your friend where the spare keys to your villa are, before Flo kisses you again, capturing your attention in order to direct you to the taxi.

From there, it’s a downhill slope of ripped clothing, walking into things, and being fucked into oblivion.

The morning comes brightly, unforgiving of any hangovers.

Her suite is really nice, but is partially destroyed by last night’s storm of a hookup. The sofa cushions litter the living area’s floor when you try to find her.

She is sitting on the sofa, hair wet, lazily watching the TV. As you laugh at the program, she snaps out of her brood.

“Do you understand what they’re saying?” you ask through your giggles. It’s a pretty crass show to have on at 10am.

“No,” she sheepishly replies. Her eyes tear from the screen to focus on you, examining your body from head to toe, resulting in a frown. “I went out and bought you something to wear.” She directs your attention to a shopping bag on the coffee table.

“You didn’t have to.”

“It was nothing, really.”

You pause.

She looks beautiful. You wish you hadn’t been so drunk. Now all this will be is a one-night stand.

“I’ve got to go. I thought I texted my friend where the spare keys were but I didn't, so they've all crashed at our friends’ hotel, and they’re not happy about it.” Flo laughs, recalling giving you enough time to let everyone know of your changed plans. Maybe you were too caught up in staring at her.

“No worries,” she says easily. “I’m headed to breakfast, but feel free to use the bathroom to clean up.”

There’s a stagnant silence.

Neither of you are going to further this interaction. Alright.

It will be fine. She’s less of a stranger now, and no interview could ever inform you on what your name sounds like as she moans it over and over again.

You tell yourself this again as you approach the England girls’ hotel, bar the last bit. (Though it does remind you of the game you once had.)

Everybody is waiting for you in the small restaurant, the group practically filling the space. There are many colourful words, both in Spanish and Catalan, being muttered as you walk in.

It’s fair for them to feel irritated, and you did leave as soon as possible to allow them back in. You probably would have slept in that expensive hotel bed for the rest of the day if Pina’s seventh phone call hadn’t awoken you.

“You are unbelievable,” is the first thing Mapi says, ignoring the questioning looks from the English girls. None of them speak Spanish, though you’ve heard that Lucy is learning. “Where were you? Pina says she saw Adela as soon as we walked in, and was about to go looking for you to get you out of there.”

“Well Pina didn’t do that,” you reply, folding your arms. Clàudia looks away guiltily. “And I spoke to Adela.”

“So you have a run-in with her and you take off? As if the years haven’t made a difference? As if you’re not over her?”

You clench your fists. “No, I was with a girl.”

“Which girl?” Ona excitedly interjects. “Do we know her?”

“Yeah,” you say, but intend to give them nothing else. “I just came back from her hotel. Would you like to get back to the villa or not?”

“Y/n, you’re such a dickhead.”

Beth asks for a translation.

Before you can omit the parts you don’t want her to hear, the whole of the group is made aware of what you got up to last night. Patri skips over the background information about Adela once she catches the way you are looking at her. If looks could kill, she’d be long gone by now.

The conversation evolves naturally into something more general, until everyone is gathering their things and leaving the hotel to walk to your place. With a group of fifteen, the pavement is cramped, meaning Ona and you pull ahead.

She nudges you when you go quiet for a bit.

“So…” Ona begins, smirking. “Tell me about your night.”

“My night was too scandalous for Onita to handle,” you tease, ultimately avoiding the question. Her eyes narrow and she grabs your wrist to stop you from crossing the road. “I’m not going to run away.”

“But you love running away!”

You sigh. “My night was good, Ona. Really good.”

Ona is clever enough to piece together a story in her head. Adela has a way of disrupting the flow of your life, and a certain someone is in town.

“Fucking hell, Y/n. You slept with Florence Pugh?!” she exclaims.

“Keep your voice down,” you say loudly, shaking your head as to not let the others know. “It was a one-time thing. A mistake.”

She studies your expression, realising how your regret was easily confused for sternness earlier. “You wanted it.”

“It’s a celebrity crush!”

“Not if you’ve actually met her. Then it’s just a crush.”

“You’re just a crush,” you retort. Ona bursts out laughing.

“You slept with your crush and it’s a mistake because she thinks it’s a one-night stand.” Your friend shakes her head in disbelief. “Now I remember why we stopped talking about your love life. It’s chaos!”

Technically, it’s because your love life went very dry once you reached Germany, but you laugh along with Ona because she’s right.

Your hushed Spanish is safe from the ears of the others, but when you lay your phone on the kitchen worktop in the villa, Beth notices two Instagram notifications.

@florencepugh has started following you.

And a DM.

+44 7701 923892 xx

Flo throws her phone across the room once she clicks send, and hides under the covers from a cackling huddle of her best friends.

- - -

Somehow, you are persuaded to cancel your flight to Gatwick and follow the girls to Barcelona. Now that Adela herself has told you she isn’t in your home city anymore, maybe you can visit for longer than five hours again.

When you knock on the door of your family home, you’re tackled to the ground by your mother. Though you didn’t go radio silent on them, the only time they really get to see you is when you’re playing a home game for the national team. Even then, it isn’t guaranteed.

“You’re home?” she asks, pinching your arm to see if you’re real. “My baby was driven out of the country by some stupid girl, so is this stupid girl dead or…”

“Mamá!” You frown and step past her to get inside. It smells like your little sister has found out what incense sticks are and burnt them everywhere. “I thought I’d visit before the Euros. I was in Ibiza anyway.”

“I know,” she says matter-of-factly, making your stomach turn with guilt. “Eva showed me how to work the Instagram.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise you checked.”

She smiles softly and it feels like everything you have been missing has always been here.

“Of course I check to see what you’re up to. Wherever you are. Especially since you stopped calling as much.” You shake your head as if it will make it better. You’ve been busy in a new country. You assumed having Eva and Tomàs was enough to keep her hands full. She seems to read your mind. “While your brother and sister are a lot, I’ve missed you.”

You’re suddenly fighting back tears.

“I’ve missed you too, Mamá.”

She pulls you into a calmer, firmer hug. The moment is ruined when Eva comes charging down the stairs, screaming at the sight of you.

The last time you saw her in person was when the Barça academy took her team on tour to Germany last year, but she’s acting as if you’ve come back from the dead.

She alerts the attention of everyone else in the house, meaning your grandma and dad flock to the kitchen, dropping whatever they’re doing. You can hardly blame them. You must have become a myth.

Plans are quickly made to go out to the usual spot for dinner with Tomàs and his family. Your older brother has a wife and three children that you never actually see. You haven’t met his youngest because he was born just before the pandemic started (as if you’d have visited anyway).

With that, you are integrated back into your old life.

You dust off your motorbike from the garage and go on rides through your city, watching the sunset from the rooftop of your friend’s old apartment building with Eva. She tells you about how her football is going; how everyone thinks it’s odd she plays neither in goal nor as a striker.

Growing up, you were forced to save Tomàs’ incessant (but increasingly more accurate) shots, meaning you’d had a fair amount of goalkeeping experience by the time your dad put you onto the football team he coached. You played what you knew. Tomàs hated being on the same team as you, but it didn’t last long when you were scouted and put in Barça’s academy. He followed soon after.

Eva, however, decided to stay away from her older brother and sister’s constant practice. She ended up on your dad’s football team too, scouted again by Barça, her name written down like you and Tomàs had done before her. At seventeen, she might be on track to be signing for the senior team next season. You promise to get the girls round and introduce her to them.

In turn, you tell your sister about the woman you keep on running into. How her eyes looked more grey in January than they did in May. How she makes you nervous, makes you forget how to do things. How you slept together five days before you arrived home.

You have her number, and you show your little sister. She begs you to call it, but you quietly admit you’re scared. She leaves you to move at your own pace, even if she finds it painfully slow.

As the days go by, you become Eva’s chauffeur. She finds it exciting to be driven about on your motorbike, and you have nothing to do but wait for the final Euros squads to be announced.

Your little sister often has places to be. Today it’s The Museu Picasso. Apparently, she’s ‘cultured’ and ‘sophisticated’ and will be getting high as a kite before entry. Makes the experience better.

As you weave through taxis and try not to run over any tourists, a certain blonde catches your eye. She sits dejectedly on a bench with her phone held loosely in her hand. You pull over without a second thought.

“Lost?” you tease, taking off your helmet. Florence startles and almost drops her phone, before coming to her senses and recognising you.

“Very,” she sighs. “My driver cancelled and I’m stranded.”

“Need a ride? She’s getting off here anyway.” You nod to Eva, who is looking affronted by the suggestion of that.

“Jo sóc?”

“Sí, Eva.” She stares at you blankly. “Baixes de la puta moto.”

“Ah. Aquesta és ella.”

You hum in confirmation. “Ara aneu a escampar la boira.”

Flo watches the conversation trying not to blush. The Catalan might be sexier than the Spanish.

After a second of rebellion, Eva gives in and gets off the bike, thrusting her helmet into your stomach bitterly. The museum really isn’t far away — about a ten minute walk — but it’s the principle. What happened to sisterhood?

You get off as well, unsure of whether Flo knows how to get on. She does, thankfully, meaning you don’t have to fumble your way through that. Dodged a bullet there.

At first she keeps her arms loosely wrapped around you, awkwardly holding on. When you speed up, she squeezes you tighter. If she hadn’t squeezed tighter and pulled you out of thought, you’d have been pancaked by an oncoming lorry (they’re memories — it makes it worse).

“Where am I taking you?” you ask, shouting to be heard.

“Coffee!” she replies, amusement audible. “There’s this woman I like who owes me one!”

You pretend you didn’t hear her second sentence, focusing on the road in front of you instead.

Florence relaxes quickly, enjoying the way the people change from tourists to locals; the buildings become more homely and less commercial. Barcelona is beautiful. Your eyes are brighter than when she last looked in them.

The coffee shop you take her to is the one you’ve been going to for years, though the colour scheme has changed from blue to red since the last time you came. The staff are fresh-faced and young, but the manager pulls you into a hug immediately. Flo hangs back, feeling like an elephant among the mice. She doesn’t understand what you say, and takes a minute to realise you want to know her order. Even then, she’s uncomfortable with reading anything off the menu and shrugs.

The manager, Pablo, is the son of the owner, and has worked here longer than you’ve been alive. When you first sat down for a coffee fifteen years ago, exhausted from a 10k run, he gave you a free biscuit on the side. You’ve been close ever since.

Naturally he asks who Flo is. Why is she here?

You can only shrug, say she’s a friend, and deal with his unconvinced expression.

Sitting opposite her on a wobbly table starts the first conversation you have intentionally had. One not tainted by alcohol or put in place to distract from an unwanted discussion. It’s now not a failsafe or emergency, but something you want to happen. It’s weird.

“Thank you,” she says earnestly. “I was a lot more panicked than I looked.”

You laugh. “You looked pretty panicked.”

“New city. Haven’t had a chance to get my bearings.” You wonder why she’s here. What do actresses do for fun? Would Florence go to a museum? “My flight got in yesterday, so it’s really new.”

“This is where I grew up.” She figured as such.

“I went to one of your games, you know,” she blurts. “The last one of the season. My friend was looking to invest, and I only put the pieces together once I saw you from the stands.”

“So you don’t know who Tomàs is?” She shakes her head and you look at her with horror. “Do you not like football?” you ask, eyes wide.

“Do you like musicals?”

“Touché.”

The corners of her lips twitch upwards into a smile. “French as well?”

“My talents don’t extend that far.” Innuendo settles in your words. Oh, she knows exactly where your talents lie. “In Ibiza…”

“Who was she?”

“An ex-girlfriend.” She raises her eyebrows. “The ex-girlfriend.”

“We all have one of those,” Flo says with a sly smile. “Mine got me kicked out of the school choir when I was fifteen. Yours?”

Your leg shakes anxiously. There is something so incredibly unfair about having to feel so horrible every time she’s brought up. As if she feels the same way. Your life was the one that was obliterated; the collateral damage.

Flo listens carefully when you talk about signing for Barça’s senior team and moving out. About the lifestyle you adopted from your brother; the parties and the drinking and the constant meaningless sex. And then, when you tell her that Adela seemed so mature, that she had her own place that was quiet, she actually understands. Zach felt like that. An example, a teacher. Someone who was safe and quiet and knew what they were doing.

You would sit quietly in Adela’s little flat while she did her work for her law degree, unwinding and relaxing. She’d stroke your hair and do yoga with you after rough games.

But Adela got tired of it. She was sick of always coming home to either an empty flat or you being exhausted, and she couldn’t handle how much she had to put her own life on hold because of your football. She had been offered a training contract at a big American law firm’s Spanish branch, which would require her to move to Madrid and work like a dog.

She said you were holding her back.

It was the most heartbreaking thing you ever had to do, because she gave you a choice: her or football. And you chose football. But you loved her a lot, and her leaving was like losing your favourite teddy. You became stuck in a dark place; you couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. Barça became concerned by your playing standard and you were replaced by another keeper. When the transfer window came, you ran off to Germany without so much as a goodbye to Barcelona and hoped to never have to run into Adela again.

“Good thing she now thinks you’ve got a super sexy, hot, famous new girlfriend,” Flo jokes when you finish, attempting to diffuse the tension.

It only adds to it.

“Did Ibiza mean anything to you?” you ask quietly, nervously. She catches your eyes and holds them, trying to make you feel better. Safer. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you for months,” she confesses, almost a whisper. “Before I even knew your name.”

“I should have called.”

“No, it’s okay. That was very bold of me.” She took a shot before sending it. “I’m not in Barcelona very long, but I have a hotel room and my hotel room has wine. And a—”

“Do we need a bed?” Your wink makes her cross her legs. “First, let me introduce myself, yeah? So we’re not strangers.” She nods. “I’m Y/n, and I saw you in that overpriced coffee shop in Notting Hill.” Pablo pretends to not be listening.

“Hola,” she tries valiantly. “Soy Florence. Call me Flo. Um, that’s the extent of my Spanish.”

“It was good,” you lie. She hits your arm lightly. “No, really! I’m sure you’ll learn some.”

“Oh, I did.” Her smirk is unsettling. “Dámelo más duro,” she moans, imitating you.

Your blush makes your face feel like it is on fire.

“We have got to leave this place right now, oh my god.” She gladly stands. You hand Pablo €20 because you’re not focused on how much money this will cost you. “You’ve got to never do that again. Especially not on the motorcycle. I’ll crash.”

“Yeah, I noticed how you nearly killed us earlier.” You don’t get to make a witty comeback, because she firmly plants her hands on your waist and kisses you hard.

Your heart soars.

- - -

It has taken six months for you and the mystery blonde woman to go on a date, but it’s perfect. You eat out at an Italian place, followed by a different kind of eating out later into the night.

On the 15th June the national team for the Euros is confirmed, she is at your family home, halfway through helping your mother to prepare lunch. The whole family swarm the kitchen to congratulate you on being the first choice of goalkeeper. They couldn’t be prouder.

When you kiss her in front of most of the crowd at the last game of the group stages, she has to wipe away your tears. While everyone else appreciates the effort of your clean sheet, your teammates are thankful you’ve found someone. They knew you seemed different the whole tournament.

Obviously, the quarter-finals are conflicting for Flo. She dons an England shirt, but while her friends seek out their Lionesses afterwards (famous people always think sports teams want to see them), she searches for you instead. You sob into her embrace and she knows how stressful the tournament has been for the whole squad. She supports you fully when you and fifteen other Spanish players email the Football Federation with complaints of the manager.

In September, she’s thrown into the middle of the current hottest scandal in Hollywood. You’re there for her to rant to, scream at, and talk with — even if most of the time it’s over the phone. She misses you the most when you’re away for matches, so for her to be filming in Budapest takes a toll.

Flo tells you that she loves you when you pick her up from Heathrow terminal three, something your little sister goes feral over (another Hugh Grant romcom, apparently).

You say it back without hesitating.

You say it over and over again until it’s your most commonly said phrase. The girls tease you for being obvious about when you get laid, because you can’t keep the smile off your face the next day. In truth, you grin anytime you see her.

Christmas and New Year’s with the Pughs makes you love her more, and you reflect on how far you’ve come since January. How she once didn’t know your name, but now can sort out your bills if you asked. Florence Rose Pugh means more than a Wikipedia page because you say it when you propose, and she manages to say yes in Spanish through her tears. It makes the 29th December a special day forever, and it’s still too cold in England for your liking but it’s an excuse to bury yourselves in blankets that night. And for all the nights to come.

She’s no longer a stranger but she has always been so much more than that anyway.

tags: @pewpughpew @ridleypugh @jeyramarie @flosbelova @kassies-take @delfiore @yelenabelovasbxtch @xsophiesx @slut4milfs69 @sunshadesnrainbowz @karsonromanoff

#florence pugh fanfiction #florence pugh x reader #randombush3 #woso x reader #florence pugh one shot #florence pugh fluff #florence pugh imagine #florence pugh imagines #florence x reader #florence pugh x you #florence pugh x y/n #florence pugh angst #florence pugh #arsenal wfc #mapi leon #beth mead #vfl wolfsburg frauen

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ashwhowrites · 2 years

Note

If you are still taking requests, could I please request 9 from the fluff prompts “. . . sorry, I talked too much” “No no no not at all. Keep talking” with Eddie. Maybe he's rambling on about one of his passions and he is so used to people shutting him down but the reader is absolutely enamored?

Your writing fills me with pure delight and I keep trying to sneak reading it at work.💙

I am for sure still taking requests! And flattery works well on me so you will definitely get your request written with a sweet message like that!! I am so happy to hear you like to read my work and it fills you with delight. I will make sure to make this extra fluffly for you.

“… sorry, I talked too much” “No no no not at all. Keep talking”

Eddie was heading to his deal after school, walking and sitting at his usual bench. He rolled his eyes as Jason sat in front of him. "Let's make this fast." Eddie huffed out, opening his lunch box. Eddie was measuring out the weed when Jason spoke up, "So what exactly is a hellfire club?" Eddie looked up, silently puzzled. Why was he asking him about hellfire? Jason never cared. All he wanted was to make his life hell. Eddie glared as he answered with a stiff tone. "We don’t need to do small talk. This is about $30." Eddie handed over the bag filled with weed. He was thrown off by Jason's expression. He almost looked genuine. Eddie always had a soft heart, thanks to Wayne. "It's a DnD club; my friends and I play. It's a fantasy game. We form an adventuring party and explore fantasy worlds together as we embark on epic quests and level up in experience. We each have our own personalities. I'm-" But he was cut off when Jason laughed; the genuine expression was gone. "Wow, those theater classes are paying off. You truly thought I gave a shit about your freak club. " He scoffed and threw the money on the table. And with that, he walked off back to the school grounds. Eddie's shoulders slumped. He knew that not many people understood DnD and thought it was dumb. But that was one of the places he felt himself. Those kids looked up to him, and it made him feel good. He's so used to people looking down on him. It was something he knew so much about he could talk about it for hours, but no one ever wanted to listen. With a slightly worse mood than he showed up with, he went to his van to head home. ~~~~~~~ The next time Eddie got passionate about talking about a topic was with Steve. Eddie was in the middle of a rant about how horror films were truly works of art. Steve believed romance was the top tier. "Listen man, chicks dig horror films. It gets them horny or some shit." Eddie's main point was that he believed nothing got a girl fired up faster than a horror film. Eddie was not one to give up during an argument, so he started stating his facts. He goes into full detail to back up his theory. He was feeling proud of how much information he was able to bring up, but once again that feeling in his gut returned when Steve spoke up, "Okay, I got it, damn you didn't have to keep talking for so long." and he went to help a customer. Eddie felt embarrassed. He knew he got too into his conversations and would go over the top. But the feeling of someone telling you they aren't interested in talking with you or listening to you always hurts. ~~~~~~~ Eddie tried not to talk too much about things. That feeling that had turned his mood sour was something he didn't want to experience again. But once again, he couldn't stop himself in class when the topic of music was brought up. He proudly stated how he played guitar and was in a band. He was working in a group, and they had to create a song with chords. Eddie decided to take the role of the group, as his sweetheart had taught him well. The group had to share their work with the class. Eddie was passionately stating how his mind came up with certain parts of the song. He felt confident and, for the first time, smart about how well he understood the material. But then that feeling was running down his throat and landing in his stomach when a voice spoke up.

"Yo freak, I don't care about how you made the song. Quit talking, we have other stuff to do." Defeated Eddie headed to his seat in the back of the class, with his curly head down.

~~~~~~

Eddie was forcing books into his dirty locker that really needed to be cleaned out when a soft and gentle voice came from next to him. "Excuse me?" Eddie looked over and saw the most gorgeous person he had ever seen. Their eyes were big and sparkled. Their hair was styled to perfection. And a big smile was stretched across their faces. Eddie felt his heart literally skip a few beats. He then realized he had not answered. "Oh yes, Hi." He fumbled out with a shy smile. They laughed, and the smile got even bigger.

"I'm new and was wondering if you could help me out." Eddie's ears were attentively listening to them. It was like their voice were his new favorite sounds.

Eddie nodded quickly and put out his hand. "I'm Eddie." "I'm Y/N" They shook his hand with a soft grip. His stomach did flips at the contact. Eddie spent the rest of the day showing Y/N around, helping them get to classes, showing them the nearest bathrooms, and even asking Y/N to join his lunch table, to which they happily agreed. Eddie and Y/N were getting closer as the days passed. They shared many classes, sat at lunch together, and Eddie lied and said he studied at the library on Fridays, just to have Y/N alone at least once a week. And tonight, Eddie was finally going to ask Y/N out. He had no idea if they were even interested, but he had to take the chance. "So Y/N, any plans for this evening?" Eddie asked as Y/N hopped into his van. Y/N quickly answered with a no. Eddie felt relieved at the fact that they didn't have plans. "Would you maybe want to go out tonight? To like, dinner or something? on a date? " Y/N was caught off guard by the question. There was definitely a crush growing on the metalhead they spent all their time with. They felt a blush heat their cheeks and a smile form. "I'd love to." they answered, and they had never seen Eddie smile bigger than today. Eddie decided on a diner. Granted, he couldn't afford an expensive place, but he hoped a diner would be a good choice. "Don't worry Eddie, I've loved diners ever since I was young. This is a great choice. " Eddie felt himself smile at that and was pleased that this date was going in a good direction.

As the date went on, the conversations flowed effortlessly. His cheeks hurt from how much he was smiling and laughing. He could feel the crush growing more and more. He tried to steer the direction of things he knew he'd go over the top with. He really liked Y/N and did not want to annoy them with his constant ramblings. The date ended and he brought them home. He sealed the date with a kiss and a new hope in his chest. He felt like he was on cloud nine the whole way home. Smiling to himself and fist bumping, he was proud that he didn't get carried away in conversation. Maybe he was getting better at keeping himself composed. ~~~~ Y/N loved spending time with Eddie in the last few weeks. He was sweet, caring, and hilarious. But something kept nagging in their minds. It felt like he was walking on eggshells when they spoke. Y/N wasn't sure if they were intimating or boring. But Eddie is honest. He'd say something, wouldn't he? Y/N and Eddie were cuddling on his couch, in his small and cozy trailer. Y/N's hand was delicately rubbing Eddie's chest over his hellfire shirt. "So what is hellfire?" They asked softly. Eddie went stiff. His mind went back to Jason, and that sickening feeling arose in his stomach. He tried to stay clear of hellfire and DnD conversation because he knew he couldn't stay quiet about it. "Just a club." He mumbled with a shrug. "What's the club about?" Y/N asked as they looked up at him. They could see the anxiety in Eddie's eyes. They just didn't understand why he was so distant and scared. "Its DnD." His answers were short and quick. They weren't giving up on him. "What's DnD? I'm not sure I've heard about it.” Eddie made eye contact and he could see the curiosity in their eyes. Y/N was different from Jason. Eddie shouldn't treat them so badly. He sighed and began to describe the events of DnD.

Eddie was lost in his rant when he looked at the clock. His eyes went huge when he realized he had been talking Y/N's ear off for 20 minutes straight of just DnD. He quickly shut his mouth, mid-explanation. He reasoned that since Y/N had already zoned out, they wouldn't even notice his thought was incomplete.

But to his surprise, Y/N looked up at him, confused, "Why did you stop? Did Dustin defeat Vecna? " Eddie was lost for words. Not only were they listening the whole time, but they were asking him to continue. "Oh, I'm sorry. I talked too much, so I didn't want to bore you. " His words made their heart hurt. How could he think that they didn't want to listen to him? He never talks too much. This was the most they had gotten to hear him speak in weeks. They smiled encouragingly, "No, not at all. Keep talking. I need to know how it ends. I love how passionate you sound. " Eddie swears he fell in love right there. His chest felt like it was going to explode. He felt accepted and understood. For once, someone wanted to listen to him. Someone cared. And he vowed not to mess this up.

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson request

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joohanisms · 11 months

Note

hi lizzie! i already know you by your main, i wanted to ask you some oneshots/thoughts about sex with jealous jiseok?

MY MAIN ?@?@@? was it from the obnoxious amount of likes i leave on every single work on the xdh tags LMAO thank you so much for the request <33 hope you like it

jealous jiseok thoughts 💭💫

cw: jealousy obv, oral (fem receiving), possessive tones, unprotected sex (on birth control. don't be dumb), cum play slightly wc: 1,1k

minors dni

jiseok doesn't strike me to be the type to get jealous easily But! once he does... oh no

let's say you're out somewhere, like a party. and he's going about the looks people shoot you the usual way: smirking back at people, all smug, as if he's saying "this is Mine <3 look at me having someone you'll never have"

he did not expect your own friend to hit on you though

they were always a little touchy, and jiseok's not usually bothered (hell, he's not even in a place to be bothered. his friends are hanging off his shoulders half the time – if it doesn't bother you, it shouldn't bother him)

but tonight they were too affectionate

it started with them casually touching you while you talked, then they started playing with your fingers and fixing your hair and now jiseok's threat radar is beeping

when they lean in to talk into your ear, he draws the line. he's intervening

he gets closer and hears the "come on, leave with me. he doesn't have to know" in the air

oh no. oh nononono

he's PISSED. not only are they flirting with you in front of him, they're also blatantly asking you to cheat?

you can barely begin to indignantly refuse as he wraps his arm around your shoulders, ignores the so called friend and goes "hey, babe." before he presses a kiss that lasts a second too long to your lips

"do you want to go home? i think we'd have a better time there than here," pointedly looks at the person in front of you and pulls you closer, "plus i really want to find out what's the surprise you said you have for me back home."

there's no surprise. he's only making a point. you don't think you're even wearing matching underwear

he didn't even wait for your friend to say anything – as soon as you open your mouth to agree, he's whisking you away (he Does look back to see their face though)

when you're finally met with the fresh night air outside the building, jiseok pulls his phone out to call you both a cab and starts his angry rant

"are they out of their mind? doing that when i'm a few feet away? trying to get you to fuck them when they know damn well you're taken! we're not seeing that asshole ever again, they should feel lucky i didn't punch their teeth right off, if i was the slightest bit crazier i would've–"

"jiseokie," a hand to his cheek, "are you jealous?"

he looks up from his phone to find your playful gaze. he huffed, "of course i am! who do they think they are–" he's cut off by a searing kiss to his lips.

"it's kind of hot."

the way you were looking at him... hell he could fuck you right then and there and even hope your stupid friend catches you. unfortunately, the cab is here and the poor driver shouldn't be subjected to seeing that

the second you arrive at your apartment, he's holding your face with both his hands and kissing you downright filthily in your little entrance hall

you need to take your shoes off though... that's not a problem at all – you hear his chunky sneakers be tossed to the ground while he keeps kissing you the best he can, and you only separate as he crouches down to unlace your boots for you

you can barely appreciate the view of your boyfriend at your feet before your boots are off and he's on you again

his lips attach to your neck, sucking and nipping on the flesh while his hands sneak under your shirt

he has half a mind to bend you over the couch and fuck you stupid until your moans are engraved on the couch, but he ultimately decides on pulling you into your bedroom

before you even get to the bed, you're shirtless, jiseok's hands fumbling with the clasps of your bra while you work on his jeans

you don't get very far before your knees hit the bed and you're falling backwards

your hair fawning around your face, your cheeks flushed, your lips kiss-bitten, your bra half-off, your eyes nearly desperate... jiseok is so glad he's the only one who gets to see you like this

(and if it's up to him he'll be the only one to see you like this for the rest of time <3)

but for now he'll just push your skirt up and pull your underwear down <3

and eats you out sooooo good like legs over his shoulders his fingers spreading you

after you cum, you try to repay the favor but he grabs your hands and goes "wanna cum inside you, baby, please"

and who are you to deny him !! it's not common to have him cum in you even though you're on birth control... my guy likes the visual of his cum on your skin

and so in a second his pants and underwear are off, your legs are around his hips and he's ruining your neck again while he guides his cock to your entrance

he pushes in bit by bit, and only when he bottoms out he detaches from your neck and grins, pressing the pads of his fingers into what you assume are the hickeys he left

"you're mine", he softly says, looking into your eyes, before he starts thrusting into you

it gets really fast and rough really quick

you can't help but moan a little too loudly, the way his hips are slamming into your thighs feels divine. and when he presses his thumb to your clit...... you're seeing stars wtf

he's kissing you desperately, in a mix of panting and actually kissing you properly. your arms wind around his neck, needing him closer while you feel a familiar wave of pleasure starting to come over you

what really does it for you is his little rushed whisper of "mine, mine, mine, you're only mine right baby? mine to fuck you like this, mine to ruin, mine"

he keeps mumbling possessives and filth while he fucks you through your high

"'m yours, ji– only yours," you manage to say through the fog in your brain, and you feel his release fill your cunt

when he finally stops grinding into you, prolonging his orgasm as much as he could, he'll pull out slowly so he can watch his cum drip out of your hole

scoops a little bit of it with his fingers and smears it on your cheek, kissing you deeply afterwards

"my baby," he whispers between kisses, "only mine."

when both of you have finally caught your breaths, jiseok gets up to fetch a towel to wipe you down

when he comes back, he cleans you thoroughly - except the cum smeared on your cheek

"you forgot something." you point to your sticky cheek.

he grins devilishly, straddling you. "that's for you to wear, babe. so everyone knows you're mine."

bonus: when you're cuddling later, ready to sleep, you remember something: "... so what was the surprise i had for you back here?"

"shut up and go to sleep."

#xdinary heroes smut #xdh imagines #xdinary heroes imagine #xdh smut #xdh hard hours #xdh scenarios #xdh x reader #xdinary heroes hard hours #xdinary heroes x reader #xdinary heroes fanfic #gaon x reader #gaon smut #my fics #xdinary heroes imagines #kwak jiseok imagine #kwak jiseok smut #kwak jiseok x reader #gaon imagine

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lazywerebat · 1 year

Note

Fandom: Lost Boys (1987)

Request: I was thinking about a Lost Boys x little!reader (they/them) where y/n wants to go hang out with the guys and Star during their nightly trips to the boardwalk, but once they saw all the carnival rides and games, they regressed and can’t partake in an rambunctious activity.

It can include all the lost boys, but maybe be mostly Marko that y/n is gravitating to for comfort 🌟

Little Me, Big World !

Polyam! Lost Boys x Little! GN! Reader With Vampire! Star ( Mostly Marko x Little! GN! Reader )

⚠️ DO NOT READ THIS IF UR 18+ BLOG,INTO AGEPLAY AND HAVE MDNI IN SOMEWHERE IN UR BLOG !! THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH IT AND Y'ALL MAKE ME UNCOMFY ASF !! ⚠️

warnings: lil bit of violence but its not detailed described

a/n: im sorry it took me so long to post this, i had such awful writers block and i had to study for my final exams :']

It was another warm night in cave and I was very much bored. I was in my nest, trying to entertain myself with so much stuff in there but they all failed. I went to the main cave where most of them were. I wondered if they were there or they went on a hunt. When I got there I only founded Star

“Hey, where are boys?”

I questioned confused,

“They went on a hunt” she replied.

“What about you? Did you go?” I questioned her again,

“Yes I did, don't worry” she replied,

“Okay” I said, I went to sit by her side as I watched her sewing one of boys shirts. After a while boys came back, I looked at them and smiled,

“Hey little one” Marko said as he went to me and I ran into his arms and pretty much tried to ignore the fresh blood on him. I felt another pair of hands hug me and I looked up to see Paul.

“Hey” I said softly,

“Hey sugar” Paul replied with grin,

“Can we go to the boardwalk?” I asked while looking at all of them,

“We'll go when we clean ourselves up” David stated to me,

“Okey” I replied, Marko and Paul let go of me and went to the other side of cave with others. After a short time they came back and we went to the boardwalk. Star rode with Dwayne this time and I rode with Marko. When we arrived they parked their bikes in usual spot. When I saw so many carnival rides and games, I felt so little and everything seemed big. I didn't realise I held onto Marko a bit tight,

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked me and I nodded a bit. I let go of him and kept my hands to myself.

“You feeling little baby?” Dwayne asked me and I nodded to that.

“Oh amore, we can still do fun stuff, we'll keep you safe okay?” Marko stated to me and held my hand.

“Okay” I replied to him softly, after that we went on rides and played games. I was getting something to drink because I was getting really thirsty. As I was on my way to boys bikes I accidentally bumped into someone, it was nothing surprising to bump into someone as everything was filled with so many people,

“Hey! Watch where you're going!” The man said with an angry tone,

“Im so sorry sir, I didn't mean to do that” I replied to him but he didn't like that either, for some reason, he was going on a rant on how he could've spilled his drink on himself and stuff. I was still trying to apologize and go away but he didn't let me go. When I tried to leave, he grabbed me by my arms and started yelling at me. Which caused me to feel panicked, my heart racing, fear and similar feelings and yelling was making me cry, so I had started forming tears in my eyes.

“Oh now you're crying, are you a little–” He got cut off by someone punching him and his grip loosen which I had my chance to escape and I did. I went into Marko's arms sobbing and I felt him wrapping his arms around me,

“Hey, hey, its okay, you're safe now love” He said comforting me and blocking my view to whats happening. Marko went with me to their bikes and he looked me,

“Im sorry little one, I should've went with you to get that drink and not let you go on your own when in your in this state of mind” He apologized to me and held his hands on my cheeks,

“You didn't know that was gonna happen M” I said to him confused by his apology and Marko looked worried.

“Did he hurt you love?” He asked,

“No, he just held my arms really hard and tight” I said to him which made him worry more,

“Amore, then he hurt you” He explained to me,

“Oh” I replied to him,

“May I?” He asked and I nodded. He took of my jacket to see how bad I was hurt and it left kind of visible hand print and Marko felt so much anger. I put my jacket back on as others came. Marko looked at them and honestly I guess they talked with each other with their mind thingys or whatever it is called. David came to my side as I watched Marko leaving us and I went with him but I got stopped by David.

“I want M” I said to them,

“We know love, he just has something to take care of” Dwayne explained to me, he knew I didn't like that answer and he looked at me being angry and starting to have tears in my eyes again. Star pulled me into her arms and she was trying to comfort me as Marko was coming back.

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theplottdump · 3 months

Text

ＳＩＤＥＰＬＯＴＴ - ＰＵＲＥＨＥＤＯＮＩＳＭ - PART 1 🔞 - 𝙶𝚎𝚗 𝟼: 𝚅𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚍 -

heat level: 🌶🌶🌶🌶🌶 (It's Smut with a Plot) content warnings: simdick, choking, graphic depictions of gay sex, I'm literally warning you now!!

Forward: This scene is something that I wanted to write anyway for the main plott eventually, and the PG-13 parts will end up popping up again in the main storyline - but for Valentines smut sake I thought it would be fun to jump ahead and take way farther than reasonably necessary. Godspeed. Don't say I didn't warn you. PART ONE: ( The One with the Plott, Rating PG ) PART TWO: ( The One with the Smut, Rating R )

[ 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝟏𝟎 ] Shortly after finding himself on the receiving end of the beratement of a lifetime, Valerian announced to that perhaps it was time for everyone to get some rest.

And yes, perhaps it was just a hurried excuse to retreat upstairs with his metaphorical tail placed firmly between his legs- but so what? He much preferred the comfort and privacy of his own bedroom anyway.

There, to his relief he found his fiancé finishing up his nightly routine- cut short by both the lack of expensive creams- left in his room upstairs, and an incessant, tired kiss carefully placed in the crook below his jawbone; Val wrapping his stray arm around Chad's torso.

Val let out a frustrated sigh against his neck, his lips refusing to vacate their favorite spot. "That bad?" "You are hereby banned from leaving me alone with that woman ever again." he grumbled as Chad let out a small snort in response.

"Sunny's tucked in?" "All taken care of. Now it's your turn, wash up- it's been a long day." "You are too good to me." "And don't you forget it."

Chad pulled the taller man down to meet his height, rewarding him for the day's bravery with a warm, familiar, and well practiced kiss before pushing him towards the shower.

Valerian conceded to being undressed by his fiancé, layers of expensive wool and tweed crumpling to the ground unceremoniously as he was placed under a running shower head- hot water washing away the pent up stress. Turning, he saw a dark cloud pass over his partner's face.

"Something is bothering you." It wasn't a question. After years together Val could place a meaning to Chad's every tick and glance. If asked, he could chart a map of his face, noting every wrinkle with a time and place of origin. "Is it that easy to tell?" "Distractingly so."

Chad's thoughts flashed back to his conversation earlier in the evening- Poppy was right, per usual. Had it really been 10 years? "I've been thinking-" "A dangerous practice indeed." Val flashed a wry smile as he maneuvered past him towards the main portion of the bedroom.

"Valerian-" "I don't understand how you can tolerate that insidious woman." "Val, she's your sister." "Don't rub it in. Coming in here like she bought and paid for the place, rattling off a list of my flaws and failures. This is my home damn her, I am happy- WE are happy."

Chad skirted around Val as he concluded his rant, silencing him with two hands placed on his partner's bare chest, still damp from the shower.

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." "Please do not tell me you actually agree with that wretched snake of a woman."

"Valerian, how long have we been together?" "Ten years, two seasons, and thirteen days," he replied with no hesitation, as if he had been running a counter to keep track, "Leanne can provide you with a more accurate estimate if required." "No, no, that's fine."

"Val, do you remember the promise you made me in that elevator, 10 years ago? Do you remember what you told me?"

"Ten Years, two seasons, and thirteen days-" he corrected him, in a way that most sane people would find annoying. "But yes, of course." he finished.

Chad drew him in close again, their heartbeats complementing one another as they often did.

"Valerian Plott, will you marry me?"

"Took you long enough."

Before Chad could even attempt to pull the man closer for a kiss to finalize the moment, Val had sprung back with a newfound energy and vigor, addressing the house AI directly.

"HANSEL please inform Leanne that her presence is requested immediately."

"You called?" "FUCKMEwheredidyoucomefrom-" Chad yelled, nearly jumping out of his skin details, as Leanne appeared to instantaneously materialize behind him like some sort of electronic ghost.

"Yes, thank you Leanne." Valerian replied coolly, unfazed by her rapid appearance. "Mr. Chinsley has just informed me that he wishes to resume the nuptial process." "Very good sir, shall we begin with the vows then?" Chad hurriedly cut them both off.

"What!? Not RIGHT NOW!"

Val studied his partner quizzically. "Correct me if I misspeak, but did you not just directly express to me you'd like to finalize our long delayed marriage?"

"But- there's a whole process! Paperwork to file, things to plan!" Chad shot back, visibly confused at how the moment had devolved so rapidly. "Correct. Vexus has kept the documents on retainer until he received final confirmation from Party B- that would be you Mr. Chinsley."

The cogs started to turn in the back of Chad's cerebral cortex. "You've had the documents… filed." "Yes sir." "For how long exactly?" "Ten Years, Two Seasons, Twelve Days, Sixteen Hours, Thirty-Six minutes, and 12, 13, 14, 15 seconds. We've had to re-file after every patch."

Chad slowly swiveled back to meet Val's steel coated irises once again. "You're psychotic."

"Thank you for noticing Agent." Val raised his eyebrows, amused at the compliment. "Now, shall we continue? Leanne please pull up the vows on file. Draft D6 Please." "Right away sir."

The supervillain readjusted his gaze to that of his partner, confidence dropping slightly as he finally paused to study Chad's reaction.

"You're upset."

"Valerian, tell me truthfully- when I asked you to marry me, did you think I meant right this exact moment?"

"Well obviously," the villain replied plainly, before continuing, "But if you wish to include Helianthus in the process, I can have HANSEL wake her up and send her down-"

Chad cut him off, moving forward slightly to place a hand on either side of the man- steadying him for what he would say next. "Valerian, I want a wedding."

A heavy anticipatory silence that fell over the room, as the Agent waited for a response from his fiancé.

"Oh."

Chad watched on as Val's countenance grew dark- a familiar weather pattern rolling in, his cold eyes growing stormier- as a thundercloud raged behind his glasses.

He slowly released his grip, the look was familiar to him of course- Valerian was not processing this request well.

He readjusted his focus to his assistant, who had been silently observing the interaction with the AI approximation of befuddlement. "Leave us."

A simple order but one that lashed out from his mouth like tropical lightning snapping the branch off an unlucky tree. "Yes sir."

( CONTINUES TO PART 2 🔞 )

#side plott #valerian plott #chad chinsley #leanne 5000

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feralcorpses · 7 days

Text

Tw/Cw: Bright Colours, Possible Eyestrain, and a LOT of Eyes.

I love drawing watcher Grian so so much man

I was gonna give him more eyes but I got lazy I am gonna rant abt the watchers and stuff under the cut cause I really love my version of the watchers and have been dying to share how I view the silly eye cryptid.

(Click for better quality btw!!)

Watcher rant ^^ (This wasn’t proof read btw so gl)

Sooooo Ima start off with talking abt the drawing I made, so this is watcher Grian aka Xelqua (Fun fact, Xelqua was Grians old name for his channel) and basically this would be considered their causal watcher form because DUN DUN DUNN they have a few diff types so they have a base form (so player disguises) semi-base form (player disgue + watcher features) lowest of watcher form (basically just what is shown in the peice here just less wings and eyes) their causal form (the one shown here in this piece) and thennn full form which is some creepy biblically accurate “humanoid” cyrptid creature.

There’s 5 types of watchers, low rank (usually newly turned ones) mid rank (most common one) high rank (woah your stupid for trusting these creatures this much 💀) pure watchers (blipped into existence as watchers) and then prime watchers (also blipped into existence but hold a lot more power, knowledge, wings, eyes, just rlly a lot more of everything tbh.)

The ranking system is based off skill, power, and reputation ig?? (it’s a odd one ok-) the easiest way I can explain it is it being the opposite to the feduel system so you can move up ranks you just can’t become a pure or prime watcher for obvious reasons.

Watchers usually only have 3 pairs of wings at most, pure watchers having abt 5 and prime watchers are undetermined. Their tails usually include some wings so a pure watcher might have one or two sets of wings on their tail with max for them being three and normal watchers very rarely have wings on their tails but will only have one pair if they do. (I am so not hinting at anything with this very specific thing noooo Grians wing number is soooo normal ;D)

This a bit of a odd one but they like don’t reproduce, pure watchers and prime watchers are just blipped into existence every now and again and taken care of by the previous generation of watchers and stuff.

Watchers can also be any species/hybrid so for example for example I usually base Grian off a great horned owl or rarely another owl I can’t remember the name of (I think it’s a long or short eared owl I sometimes base him off of idk) but anyway so watchers can be moth hybrids, phantoms, bats, anything but if the creature is non winged it’s eh a lot more painful to get turned because lets just say they give you wings you didn’t know you had :,)

Grians actually missing his eyes like his main eyes on his face like he has zero vision in those and usually tucks them away by covering his face with his main pair of head wings or the ones on top of his head but he wasn’t born blind it was more so a “freak accident” that made his eyes like that. He still sees tho through the rest of his watcher eyes because with his watcher type he can use more magic to hide things so he keeps his “extra” eyes out and makes them invisible and use those to see.

That’s all I have to say for now since I don’t wanna drag this post on for too long but thanks for reading this if you did lol

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xoxo-ren-xoxo · 23 days

Text

Every Single (Hermitcraft/etc.) AU Idea I Have Ever Had

This is... what it says on the tin. It is a long post. I do not expect it to get any traction. I am doing this for autism reasons. Some ideas are actually excluded because there is zero substance to them. Sorry I don't think anyone wants to hear my 1000 'what if Grian... was sad' ideas.

Many of these (most of them) were made in collaboration with @angeart which explains why they are so sad and also Mostly Scarian. It doesn't always say it's shipping but it usually is. We are Grian Girlies. Sorry.

If you want to hear more about ANY of the ideas listed here, feel free to shoot me an ask :) I LOVE RANTING ABOUT THESE IDEAS. There are even links to fics where they exist.

Each idea needs different warnings so any major CWs will be listed at the start of each summary so you can skip any one you want.

It begins... below the cut

COMMS AU

READ THE FIC HERE

WHAT THE HELL IS COMMS AU?

My main multichapter fic, ongoing and insane

A multiverse nonsense trip wrapped in an audio transcript format

Grumbo Apocalypse Monster AU

CW: minor character death, existential dread, gross / graphic imagery

Grian is a shapeshifting monster drawn into human life by the apocalypse, and Mumbo is a human who attempts to survive the horrors

Main characters: Grian & Mumbo (duh!)

Side characters: Pearl, Scar, Cub, Joe, Cleo, Xisuma, “Evil Xisuma”, Martyn

Tumblr Masterpost

READ THE FIC HERE

Vex Hunger Kidnapping Griangst AU

CW: discrimination, starvation, cannibalism (non-consensual), gore

Grian (avian) and Cub (vex) are kidnapped by scientists on their way back from MCC. They are kept in a cell where Cub is starved until he goes feral and starts attacking Grian out of Vex instincts.

Also eats Grian a lot. Don't worry, Grian can respawn, but he respawns back in the cell in a puddle of his own blood, only to be torn to pieces again.

They are rescued by the hermits. Now traumatised! Yippee!

Things get worse before they get better

Basically, Grian’s self-destructive trauma urges: the movie

Main characters: Grian, Cub, Scar, Mumbo

Side characters: Hermit ensemble

Evil Scar Corruption AU

CW: mind control, kidnapping, torture, amputation, manipulation / mindbreak

Scar gets corrupted by the Vex which take over his mind. His love for Grian is mutated into selfish obsession, and eventually he kidnaps and tortures him in an attempt to make him stay forever.

Cuts off his wings and everything. (they grow back)

Eventually the hermits find out and lock Scar up while trying to heal Grian - but Grian broke somewhere along the way and now thinks what Scar was doing was true love.

Scar comes back to his senses and the guilt hits him like a truck. Eventually he leaves the server and runs into his own Bad Relationship but don't worry about this.

Grian’s self-destructive urges: the sequel

Main characters: Scar, Grian

Side characters: Xisuma, Cub, Pearl, Mumbo, hermit ensemble

The Facility AU

CW: near-death experience

Xisuma runs a top secret facility dedicated to the safety and containment of supernatural/otherworldly beings and entities.

Kind of like SCP but nicer.

Field workers Scar, Grian, and Cub are continuously put through the wash while other facility employees (namely Etho and Bdubs) have quirky little romance arcs.

Grian nearly dies because of a swimming pool btw. There is so much to this fic I cannot possibly explain here.

Main characters Arc 1: Scar, Grian, Cub, Mumbo

Main characters Arc 2: Scar, Grian, BigB, Cub, Mumbo

Side characters Arc 1: Xisuma, Keralis, Zedaph, Joe, Cleo, Bdubs, Etho

Side characters Arc 2: Martyn, Scott, Ren, Tango, Impulse, Gem, Skizz, False

Superheroes and Villains AU

CW: not mentioned here but there is gore / surgery and alien mushrooms that kill people

In the city of Blackstone, vigilante HotGuy works alongside the Hero Bureau to catch villains and keep the city safe.

Between trying to save the person behind Mother Spore, and rebuilding his old friendship with Cub - now turned villain - HotGuy must look through the gaps of the Hero Bureau to see the corruption lurking within.

Main characters: Scar, Grian, Cub, Pearl, The Watchers

Side characters: Mumbo, Joe, Cleo, Gem, Ren, Doc, Keralis, Beef, Tango, various hermits

Read the summary here

Hero AU 2

CW: discrimination

Grian and Scar live in a city where hybrids are second-class citizens

Grian is an activist who gets beaten up and arrested a lot

Scar is secretly the superhero HotGuy, who is controlled by the city's government - as HotGuy, he pretends to be human

Grian thinks HotGuy should use his power for good, and dislikes HotGuy because he upholds the human power structure - he does not know Scar is HotGuy

Main Characters: Scar, Grian

Side Characters: ?

Respawn Enabled Hybrid Farms AU

CW: extreme dehumanisation, cannibalism, abuse of power

Global Moderators have passed cross-server laws denying the rights of hybrid players and placing most hybrids in farms to be butchered like cattle for food and resources.

Grian, born and raised on one of these farms, escapes to Hermitcraft where he learns how to be a person with agency and freedom (ahem. only to have it taken away again. and again...).

Main characters Arc 1: Grian, Mumbo, Ren, Scar

Main characters Arc 2: Grian, Pearl, Mumbo, Scar, Ren, Xisuma, Evil X, Keralis

Main characters Arc 3: Grian, Mumbo, Scar, Pearl, Gem, Ren, Impulse, Doc, Cub, Xisuma

Side Characters: hermit ensemble

Hybrid Farms (Worse Version)

CW: mentioned death, extreme discrimination, cannibalism

Hybrids are farmed as food but this time there is no respawn

More of a modern AU

READ IT HERE

Main characters: Mumbo & Grian

Side characters: Life series ensemble

'Introduction to Being a Person'

CW: human experimentation

In a desperate attempt to subdue the rebelling masses, a corrupt government begins experimenting on people to create war machines. In the dystopian wastes of civilization, escaped experiment Tango must grapple with his identity and newfound freedom, while turf wars and deception lie around every corner.

Main characters: Tango, Grian, Ren

Side characters: Experiment Army: Scar, Cub, Cleo, Joe, Gem, Pearl; Steel Wheels: False, Etho, Keralis; Helping Hands: Iskall, Stress, Xisuma; Connected Mankind: Mumbo; Last Stand: Doc, Bdubs; Unaffiliated: Impulse, Zedaph

Tomorrow AU

CW: death / existential themes, human experimentation / dehumanisation, torture

Based very loosely on World Of Tomorrow by Don Hertzfeldt

Scar, co-CEO of ConCorp, buys a body that was grown in a lab with the intention of dissecting it

Despite the body being suspended in fluid all its life, it wakes up before Scar can do anything - it's alive, but doesn't know how to speak or move

Later, this lab-grown creature becomes Grian, learns how to speak and walk, and finds out about the impending heat death of the planet

Meanwhile, we have unethical treatment of prisoners, moon science, dogman and the existential existence of clones

Main characters: Scar, Grian, Bdubs, Doc, Ren, Pearl

Side characters: [The Prison Cube], Mumbo, Xisuma, Cleo, Etho, Cub

Secret Life Watcher AU

CW: none?

All the life series players find out Grian is a Watcher at the start of Secret Life and then they are mean to him.

Also Grian may become evil at some point. But he deserves to have a villain arc.

Main characters: guess

Elliot Smith AU

CW: major character death, self loathing, existential themes

Based on my Watcher Lore

READ THE FIC HERE

In which Grian is killed at the end of Evo and his code and memories are placed into a Watcher version of him, creating a Watcher-Vessel in a process called ‘Transfer’

Mostly about both the grief of Grian’s old friends as they discover what happened to him, and the ethical / philosophical debate Grian has with himself about who he is and why people are upset about it - he's the ship of theseus kind of

Called ‘Elliott Smith AU’ because each installment in the series has a different Elliott Smith song title as a title

Main characters: Grian(?), Pearl, Jimmy, Scar, Xisuma, Martyn

Side characters: Watchers, Listeners, BigB, Scott

Elliot Smith AU AU - a different timeline

CW: major character death, existential themes

Grian gets taken by the Watchers after Limited Life and they kill him & replace him with a perfect copy of himself. Moral, ethical, and emotional dilemmas unfurl. Offshoot from my main Watcher-Grian fic (Elliott Smith AU) of the same concept just with a different timeline as to make it way more evil.

Main characters: Grian(?), Scar, Mumbo, Pearl

Side characters: hermit ensemble

Elliot Smith AU AU - a worse outcome

CW: major character death, existential themes

An offshoot of the Elliott Smith AU where the hermits (or some of them) are much more aware of what a Watcher is and are much more afraid when Grian is found out

Grian is put in a code prison while the hermits figure out what to do with him (delete his code entirely, ban him, let him stay)

Many conflicting opinions. Many horrible things said and done

Main characters: Grian, Xisuma, Pearl, Scar, Mumbo, Joe Hills somehow

Side characters: Hermit ensemble

Elliott Smith AU: Continuation 1 - BigB

CW: major character death, existential themes

BigB is a Listener - he went through a process called 'Hollowing' which is similar to Grian’s ‘Transfer’ (death and copying) except (as far as BigB is aware) it did not kill him, simply re-made him

Grian doesn’t agree that BigB didn’t die

A lot of philosophical debates here

Main characters: BigB, Grian

Side characters: Martyn, Pearl, Joel, Jimmy, Listeners, Scar

Elliott Smith AU: Continuation 2 - Scar

CW: discussions of major character death, existential themes, betrayal

After winning Secret Life, Scar is taken by the Watchers and nearly turned into one before Grian, Martyn, BigB and the Listeners intervene

However Scar’s code is damaged and decaying, and Grian needs answers to fix it before Scar is lost forever

He seeks out the Watchers and is told to bring Martyn to them in exchange for Scar’s life being saved

Grian does this, like the sad little bastard he is

Queue Martyn escaping the Watchers anyway and now everything is awful and no one likes anything that has happened

Main characters: Scar, Grian, Martyn

Side characters: BigB, Pearl, Xisuma

Zombie Apoc AU

CW: death, zombies, I think you get the idea

Zombie apocalypse but Grian and Scar just moved in together (gay intent).

Scar gets turned, Grian keeps him in the basement and lures survivors in to keep Scar fed, despite Scar asking Grian to kill him before he turned.

Mumbo shows up and everything goes wrong. And maybe some things go right.

Main characters: Grian, Scar, Mumbo (are you tired of seeing their names yet?)

Side characters: Cleo, Etho, Bdubs; Zedaph, Cub

Zombie Apoc AU 2: this time it's sadder

CW: zombies, death, suicidal thoughts

Long story short is that Grian gets bitten

Scar and Grian live in an abandoned apartment block called ‘Desert View Apartments’ (though they move to Jimmy's farm before Grian gets bit)

Ren, Martyn, Impulse and Skizz hunkered down in the ‘King’s Court Shopping Centre’

Cleo, Bdubs, and Etho are taking refuge in an old castle-turned-museum

Jimmy, Scott, and Tango live on a farm together

Joel, Lizzie and BigB live in the woods and use plants to stave off the disease

Gem is a travelling mercenary with a pet reindeer who believes the only way to save society is to eradicate all zombies and infected people

Pearl is a nomad with a pack of stray dogs

Mumbo is some guy I'm sure he has a role somewhere

Main characters: Scar and Grian

Side characters: the rest of these idiots

Space Age AU

CW: space colonisation, slavery, death, military stuff

Humans have colonised a large chunk of the galaxy

Grian comes from a group of humans who were against the human empire - said group was attacked, slaughtered, and disbanded

Scar used to be a part of the empire’s militia (though he is an alien, not human) but is no longer part of it

Mumbo does not know whether he is an android or not - androids are a slave class / killed on sight since their war with humans, and humans need to carry ID to prove they are human. Mumbo has an ID, but the tests for humans vs. androids are basically meaningless and inaccurate

Pearl was part of the same group as Grian, was captured and sold into servitude

Scar stows away on Grian’s spaceship (stolen) - Grian freaks out but they become somewhat friends

Scar and Grian go to a planet notorious for hating humans, because Scar wants a job there and Grian wants to get rid of him - Grian gets caught and thrown in prison

Scar meets Mumbo, a member of the planet’s court, and they work together to break Grian out and the three of them escape

They journey through space, meeting up with folks like Tango - eventually the gang find a ship run by Watchers (a powerful alien race) and they discover Pearl on board

Main Characters: Grian, Scar, Mumbo, Pearl

Side Characters: Tango, Ren, Jimmy, Scott, Martyn, Gem

Hunger Games AU (Based on Floor 6, a now-deleted Lunch Club AU)

CW: hunger games, unnamed character death, cannibalism, trauma x 10000

Hunger Games universe but the winners all live in a big tower apartment complex with each floor being a new decade of winners

Grian is the most recent winner!

Yes I put him in district 9 for a bread joke.

Scar is my favourite victor because he ate people.

Main characters: Tango (70; 3 - electronics), Ren (71; 2 - weapons), Pearl (72; 10 - animal farming), Scott (73; 4 - fishing), Martyn (74; 4 - fishing), Scar (75; 10 - animal farming), Gem (76; 7 - lumber), Grian (77; 9 - grain), Joel (78; 2 - weapons); BigB (79; 9 - grain), Mumbo (avox, 9 - grain)

Grian Chrysalis AU

CW: insect stuff, body horror

Note I am autistic about this one.

Grian is a weird little guy who has to form a chrysalis and turn into goo before reforming

He needs to do this every few years to keep himself alive, as he is a unique cross between Watcher and player - except no one on Hermitcraft knows this about him, and Grian may have gotten distracted building for so long he forgot to take a vacation away from the server in time to go Bug Mode

So all they know is Grian is missing, and Xisuma is getting corrupted life signals from inside a mysterious chrysalis that has appeared - so they cut open the chrysalis while Grian is still reforming in there

He's goopy (body horror intent)

Main characters: Grian, Scar, Mumbo, Xisuma

Side characters: Hermit ensemble

The Crafting Dead (vine boom sound)

CW: medical torture, zombie apocalypse, captivity

Hermitcraft gets attacked (Watchers?) and lots of hermits are sent off to their own personal hells, with no memories of Hermitcraft

Xisuma has to go find them and bring them home and help them heal and re-introduce them to Hermitcraft and hopefully get their memories back

Scar is our main focus here - he’s stuck in the zombie apocalypse world of The Crafting Dead, where he spent his childhood and teen years before being rescued by Xisuma - now in his 30s, he thinks he’s been stuck there his whole life

Grian is having a bad time being fledged into a proper Watcher, forced to Watch, since he never escaped

Mumbo's in a cult and might be evil (it's fine. He's fine.) (Lie)

Pearl is roaming the forests with a ghostly wolf, her enemies blood long gone but still fresh on her hands as resources dwindle in a tiny world (Double Life)

Tango is chained like a beast in an underground fighting ring, labelled with a nickname that isn't his and placed in a betting pool with odds stacked highly in his favour (he always wins) (he has to win) (there is no respawn here)

Impulse has been freshly captured and put in the same lineup, odds stacked quite tremendously against him (they don't know what he is) (he could end them all with a snap of his fingers) (don't corner a demon)

Doc is huddled in the corner of a lab he never left, scientist-turned-experiment, taken apart and put back together again different, wrong, as more additions pile onto his growing list of hybridities (they've given him wings, and taken his eye)

Main characters: Scar, Xisuma, Grian, Pearl, Mumbo, Tango, Impulse, Doc

Side characters: Hermit ensemble

Pirate Boatem But Evil And Mean

CW: major character death, cannibalism, ghost stuff

READ THE FIC HERE

Pirate crew Boatem get kicked off their ship and put on a desert island by Captain Scar

Survival cannibalism

Magic / curse ending

Ghost Grian

They go hunt down Scar at the end

Main characters: Impulse, Grian, Mumbo, Pearl, Scar

Side characters: SKIZZ !!!!

I can be your angel….. Or yuor devil….

CW: religious implications?, also death mentions, body horror

Scar is some guy obsessed with the occult who is part of a ghost hunting team with Impulse Gem and Skizz

He finds Grian, a “fallen angel” and decides to take care of him

Grian is actually a demon sent from the void to find a human and bring it to his masters (the Watchers) for harvesting

Grian used to be human maybe

Grian is blindfolded - he claims it is so he doesn't taint his purity with the image of the imperfect world but it is really there because his masters don't want him to see the world and fall in love with it. The void is all he knows

Scar teaches Grian self-worth while Grian slowly turns into an eldritch horror beyond comprehension

Main characters: Grian & Scar

Side characters: Impulse, Skizz, Gem, the Watchers

Monster-Pet AU

CW: dehumanisation, discrimination, medical abuse

Hybrids seen as either free labourers or pets depending on how rare they are

Grian is a Watcher, a very rare type of wild hybrid

He’s been a pet for a long time - taken from his flock and completely changed mentally

They de-clawed my boy, they took his sharp teeth away

One day he wanders away from his owners house by accident and stumbles into Hermitcraft (a free, hybrid-run town)

Healing arc but he struggles very hard to understand he isn't a pet

Pearl, former flockmate-turned-feral Watcher, attacks him when she finds him, reduced to believing any weak flockmate will lead to them being captured again

Main characters: Grian, Scar, Pearl

Side characters: hermit ensemble

Solaris AU

CW: major character death, existential themes, spoilers for Solaris (1972)

Solaris (1972) AU

But with my own added flavour and twists

Scar is Kris Kelvin, Cub and Mumbo are the other two scientists, Grian is the dead wife

Philosophical.

Main characters: Scar, Grian, Mumbo, Cub

Fantasy AU (Kingdoms AU)

MASTERPOST

READ THE FIC HERE

Monster Hunter AU

CW: vampires & blood drinking, unnamed character deaths (many), discrimination

Grian and Mumbo are vampire hunters, part of the Hunter's Guild, dedicated to killing monsters

Dramatic backstory time: Grian's home village was slaughtered by vampires, leaving only orphaned children behind - he has a lot of vampire related trauma and has channeled that into becoming one of the best hunters around

Problem: Mumbo is secretly a vampire

Problem 2: Grian is about to find out

Angst 🙂 lots of it

There are humans, vampires, were(wolves, etc), fair-folk, demons/gorgons/devils, and potionmakers

Main characters: Grian, Mumbo

Side characters: Scar, Cub, Etho, Cleo, Bdubs

Popstar Grian / Ari AU

A SUMMARY POST COMING SOON

Disaster Rescue Team AU

CW: survival cannibalism, systemic discrimination, torture, medical abuse

Scar, Pearl, Skizz, Impulse, Bdubs, Tango, Etho, Cub, and Mumbo are a disaster rescue team who specialise in helping hybrids

Grian is an avian living on a remote island that is destroyed by a storm, and he is trapped there for years until he's the only survivor left, the mainland government ignoring the situation

He's forced to resort to cannibalism to survive, then he's rescued

Scar is the therapist of the group who spends time working with Grian to rehabilitate him

Sadly most of his clients end up in bad situations, going missing, or in prison because the mainland is incredibly discriminatory

There is a government conspiracy happening where hybrids are being taken away after leaving the rescue facility and used for medical or scientific experimentation

Bad things happen to the gang.

Main characters: Scar, Pearl, Skizz, Impulse, Bdubs, Tango, Etho, Mumbo, Cub, Grian

Side characters: Ren :)

The ones who walk away from Omelas AU

CW: torture and abuse, like, a lot of it

Based on the story 'The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas' but with my own changes, for fun. This is actually one of my faves.

In the city of Omelas, life is perfect - there is no crime, no homelessness, no suffering. It is a Utopia

This Utopia comes at a cost, a single citizen, chosen randomly, must bear the suffering of all others, kept alone, starved and entirely isolated, underground, their whole life

The children of Omelas are shown this suffering early, to get them used to the idea. When they are horrified, they are told about the greater good of this sacrifice.

When Scar is a child, he sees the suffering scapegoat, at the time around his own age, and vows to rescue him one day

Twenty years later, he makes good on that promise

Main characters: Scar, Grian

Side characters: Joel, Impulse, Skizz

City Blues AU

CW: organ harvesting, gang violence, references to drugs

Architect Grian gets fired from his job, and has to move to the bad part of the city for the first time ever. There he is very quickly noted and attacked, but a cunning drug dealer saves him.

He's given a place to stay by the salesman, Scar, but he owes the man. He has to work as an errand boy for a while to earn his freedom.

I mean, how hard could it be?

(it's considerably more difficult when he develops a crush)

(and because everyone in this place wants to get their hands on his kidneys)

Main characters: Scar, Grian

Side characters: Mumbo, Cub, Stress, Iskall, Cleo

Convexian Serial Killers AU

CW: murder, no seriously our protagonists are killers and they get away with it, no moralising here they are just evil little freaks for fun, also cannibalism

Scar and Cub are serial killers who kill while their housemate, Grian, is out working for days on end

Grian happens to come home early one time and finds them mid-kill

After a series of breakdowns and a lot of throwing up, Grian gets kind of into it tbh

He watches the kills (and enjoys taunting the victims) and acts as friendly, harmless bait for other victims

Scar and Cub also introduce him to cannibalism, and he gets a little bit obsessed with trying to hunt down other avians to kill

Scar and Cub are human, while Grian is an avian, and though Scar expresses his love with violent fantasies, they would never hurt Grian

Grian's friends: Mumbo, Jimmy and Pearl, may have a little to say about this when they find out ^-^

Main characters: I just listed them

Side characters: Gem yayyyyy

AAAND THATS IT. I missed quite a few shorter / less dense AU ideas and possibly some bigger ones I have forgotten. Oops if so.

Remember, if you wanna know more about any of these, please send an ask, and specify which AU youre asking about obviously! If you read this far I am honestly shocked at your ability to put up with That Many scarian ideas.

Also feel free to riff on any of these if one stands out to you as interesting. I love hearing / seeing other people's interpretations of my stuff :D

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #hermitshipping #fanfiction #long post #life series #traffic series #traffic smp #trafficblr #trafficshipping #????#ben chats shit on the internet

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houseofpendragons · 1 month

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New Ideas for HOTD Alicent Fashion pt.2

So technically the last one I did for Alicent was apart of a Rhaenyra one, but for continuity sake this is my second outfit redesign for a younger Queen Alicent Hightower.

The dress in question we’re changing is one that will be changed in both scenes it’s worn. One will be a new dress entirely but the other will be just mentally recreating it to look more like the concept art.

The scenes are the dismissal of her father as Hand & The confrontation between she and Rhaenyra about the rumor that had her father dismissed:

I actually love this❤️❤️❤️ it’s just missing a little something, so when comparing these two pics:

If you notice these look exactly the same, except the black is darker, perhaps a velvet, the gold embroidery is more in the form of a design and brighter. The necklace is also more regal looking, bigger than the ones we saw her wear in her girlhood as a noble Lady. Those are the things they should’ve kept for the design of the dress in this scene, she’d look more like an actual Targaryen royal of the time. No offense but the dress that made the cut is kinda bland in tone.

The hair as well, she went for a jeweled hairnet to back to her girlhood hairstyles, precisely why I wish they would’ve kept the braided jeweled crown. It makes her seem more mature (despite her not being but jewelry can be a mask just as much as makeup sometimes) and more royal. She could even still keep it in this half held up hairdo just with the jeweled braided crown/twist added into it:

And the last thing about it the to want to say, the cape would’ve been awesome to see and it would’ve fit the scene. It was raining and she had a man carrying an umbrella for her, I think she’d have that cool ass cape too. Again makes her look more regal, more queen like, more mature.

The next time she wears it that I’d like to change, when she confronted Rhaenyra. A tense scene.

However at this point in time is when she is the most conflicted between her marriage to her husband and her “duty” to her house. I feel she’d reflect that in a representation of both houses. More so red, almost as if adding green was an afterthought, bc I rather think it would be a last minute decision for Alicent to add a green sash or piece of fabric to her usually Targaryen adoption in appearance. A way to feel close to her father by wearing the colors of the house she was born from (just like I headcanon she wore blue as a child to feel close to her mother; Helena Cuy, look it up where I go on a whole rant).

That in mind, imagine something similar to this:

The green being held in place at her neck, Targaryen dragon scales but in gold (perhaps a subtle nod toward Sunfyre/Aegon), it comes to wrap around her waist like a belt, tied at one side the remainder of the green fabric falls free on her left side of her hips down side by side the red dress. Also from the neckline, a half cape of green coming to cover her right side, thin gold chains reaching out from the neckline to hide beneath the half cape.

The red dress underneath would suit the summer climate/warmer climate of the time in the Red Keep, it’s just the right shade of Targaryen red, not to mention the red dress isn’t what really makes the dress but really what is meant to catch ur eye is that she’s wearing green for the first time in a long time. It meant to be hinting at her internal battles. Ofc her cleavage wouldn’t be exposed as depicted so it’s have a higher neckline, perhaps some simple gold and/or black embroidery to enhance it a bit.

Her hair would be something else to consider, thinking back to how we want it to be more mature and queen like. So perhaps a head peace or a jeweled net?

A mixture of these two would suffice:

The first picture is my favorite one and the main inspo for how I’d have done her hair, the pearls, the way her hair is twisted at the top with her bun being kept nice and beautiful in a net. The only thing I’d add from the second photo is the gold lace around the edges of the net, as well as the braid surrounding that as a whole. I’d also take the bands and add them loosely to the bottom part of her hair left down.

As for jewelry, they could’ve taken inspo from actual royal jewels. Something like this for Alicent:

Like I said the look starting originally as her traditional Targaryen Queen attire, with her Hightower symbolism added as an afterthought. Some small pearls could be added between diamond to go more with the pearls in her hair (although I think I might see some pearls in there but I might be dumb).

As for the earrings they could be something like this:

Again incorporating pearls into them or straight up replacing the diamonds entirely.

It’s just Queenly. It’s appeasing to the eyes. And it’s what I expect people to design royal fashion as to look like in period/historical dramas when you’ve proven yourself not concerned with accuracy or if it is a style fantasy gown.

#house of the dragon #hotd #alicent hightower #team black #team green sympathizer #asoiaf #fire and blood #hotd fashion #hotd costumes #hotd season 1 #hotd s1 #young alicent hightower #queen alicent hightower #lady alicent #princess rhaenyra targaryen #queen rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #otto hightower #anti viserys i targaryen

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winters0689 · 27 days

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THERE ARE MORE???? YES THERE ARE MORE!!!! More Stefano headcanons! (I swear where tf did he get that knife??)

In STEM, after he got his powers and his camera eye, his scar and the area surrounding it would often throb with pain, but he doesn’t mind it, in fact, he welcomes the pain, he welcomes it because it is a constant reminder of his past, and what he plans to do in his future, which is create art forever

While he was angry, he was also somewhat devastated that Sebastian didn’t appreciate his art. He found Sebastian somewhat intriguing, but when he destroyed his art, any of that intrigue he had went away and he was ready to finally kill him

He hates grenades for a long period of time, but he began using them to overcome his fear. He overcame them and used them in his boss fight, but sometimes he flinches whenever a bomb explosion goes off. He usually goes to instinctively cover his eye before realizing what happened and tries to calm down

He would often get panic attacks whenever he hears a loud explosion and just brush them off. He didn’t think it was anything to worry about and just waits for them to go away, which made him even more of a wreck and his mentality became more unstable. Emily would tell him that he probably needed to get some help for his mental health but he would brush it and say ‘it is what it is.’

He rarely gets sick but when he does it affects him so bad that he sometimes can barely get out of bed. He doesn’t hate getting sick, he loathes it

He often rants to Obscura whenever frustrated. He goes on and on and Obscura just stands there making her noises and Stefano responds to them

While he is an excellent photographer, he is actually pretty good at painting. He just doesn’t do it much because photography is his main passion

He is actually a very good photographer and treats his models extremely well. He makes sure they are comfortable, which is why he is able to get their trust so easily, because he respects them. He began to use it to his advantage whenever he went to find another person to make into his ‘art’

Someone once called his art ‘really sick’ and he didn’t know if it was meant as a compliment or an insult due to the tone being as neutral as possible

I swear I can keep going for HOURS about Stefano. I swear he is the best villain in the game (in my opinion)

#stefano valentini #the evil within #the evil within 2 #headcanons

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blatterpussbunnyfromhell · 7 months

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Did Silver kill Flint?

I keep seeing cold ass takes in the Black Sails side of tumblr that make my blood boil.

Look, I got into Black Sails in 2017, three weeks after the finale aired. Back then, there seemed to be an understanding that the "Silver killed Flint" interpretation was just a fringe theory from straight people made uncomfortable by the queer lead getting a happy ending. Personally, it was my first encounter with the phrase "unbury your gays" (having learnt "bury your gays" a year earlier with The 100). It seemed to be generally accepted that Flint lived, and that this was the whole point.

Now, it would appear that a shift has happened in the fandom, where the idea of Silver killing Flint is no longer treated as a theory by straight weirdos but as a canon, onscreen event, and these posts come from queer fans. It seems to come from younger fans who were about 12 or 13 in 2017. It's so mindboggling to me.

The arguments for this Silver-Killed-Flint thing is usually the same two: birds flying away and Silver's men turning around in the forest, as in reaction to a noise, which is interpreted as a gunshot.

Like, I'm just elaborating on a rant I sent to my friends earlier today here but, if Silver killed Flint, then :

Why would we be shown an entire sequence with one of Silver's henchmen looking for Thomas where he is?

If Thomas and Flint are dead, why aren't we shown their deaths? It's an actual rule in cinema that a character whose death isn't shown on screen isn't dead, a rule that the show does follow (we see Billy's funeral but not his corpse). Besides, Black Sails doesn't shy away from showing death on screen, even for main characters. Then, why not show how Thomas died instead of telling us? Why not show us Silver shooting Flint? The writers trust their viewers to understand the pattern, and understand that the reason we do not see their deaths is because they aren't dead.

Why would Silver bring up Thomas to Flint if he'd planned on killing him? Or if, as I've also seen it said, it was just a lie he made on the spot for Madi ?

And talking about Madi, I've seen A LOT of people saying she would never forgive Silver. And to that I genuinely have to ask, have you seen their last appearence in the show? I dont mean their argument in the cabin, I mean the scene where Silver sits on top of a hill and turns around to find Madi waiting for him on the path. I mean the scene where he walks towards her and she waits for him. So, my question here, if she wasn't gonna forgive Silver, why is she waiting for him on that hill? Nevermind the fact that Treasure Island's Long John Silver is in a relationship with a Black woman (I've seen posts saying that could be Max, and really wtf??), what is the point of showing us this scene if she's not gonna forgive him? Why not stop their arc at the cabin where she sends him away?

At the time when Black Sails' finale aired, Supernatural was still queerbaiting its audience, and Sherlock ended in a fucking shitshow. People were throwing fits over Bill Potts, Doctor Who's first ever onscreen lesbian companion because she was a lesbian with a masculine name. A year before that, The 100, a very popular tv show at the time, had just killed it's only lesbian character and faced so much uproar and backlash for it. (That was my entry into the LGBT+ community, by the way : the first character to make me think I might actually like women getting killed on screen two scenes after having had sex with the female lead). Sense8's two-hour long finale and Love, Simon wouldn't air for another year.

So yeah, if you weren't into queer media back in 2017 (and omg I sound like such an old twat), I don't think you can understand just how important that ending, with Flint being reunited with the love of his life after so much pain and loss, was.

If your interpretation of Black Sails is that the events of Treasure Island happened the way the book tells you, then I'm sorry to tell you this but you completely missed the point of the show.

#black sails #black sails meta #long post #silverflint #long john silver #james flint #thomas hamilton #james mcgraw #captain flint #ok to rb

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ace-of-zaun · 11 months

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Intertwined (1/3):

young!silco x f!reader - 2.3k words - SFW

cw: fluff, best friends to lovers, soft silco, dancing with silco (my beloved), falling in love, brief mentions of oppression and poverty

summary: After a mission Topside, you and Silco accidentally stumble upon a grand ballroom where you quickly become enamoured with the elegant dancers. So, naturally, you force your life-long best friend to waltz with you and beneath his over-the-top grumbles, you find a boy who seems to adore you just as much as you adore him…

a/n: el writing yet another silco!dancing-with-reader fic in a desperate attempt to fill the void that is her lonely heart?? I don't know her

i / ii / iii

As you lie flat out on a Topside roof clutching your backpack to your chest, Silco one foot to your left lying in the exact same position, you desperately try to quieten your heaving breaths.

The break-in had gone perfectly.

Partly because of Silco's mastery at picking locks and keeping a sharp lookout, and partly due to your own innate ability to sneak through properties and palm valuable items as if you were a shadow. And after exiting the building with the goods, as per your usual protocol, you'd both legged it across the city, jumping from roof to roof until you were nowhere near the original site.

Now, as the blood rushing through your ears slowly begins to ebb away, your heart rate returning to a more reasonable pace, you can finally make out the sounds of the City of Progress.

The rolling chirps of the curious evening birds. The pleasant chatter of a couple as they cross the street below you, arm in arm.

The lilt of a floral waltz carried along the warm breeze of the summer air.

You pause, propping yourself up on your elbows as you strain to get a better listen of the unfamiliar music.

Peering over your shoulder reveals a spattering of lights that are enough to will your adrenaline-ached body to push up into a crouch. Beside you, Silco whispers a confused, “what are you doing?” but you tune him out, focusing instead on locating the source of the enchanting music.

You carefully start to make your way to the edge of the roof, staying low down until you can peer over the lip.

And you spot it almost instantly. The glass-topped building, right in the middle of a perfectly maintained garden, lined with green hedges, marble fountains, and cosy loveseats.

The garden alone is bigger than the entire site of The Last Drop.

A quiet hiss of your name comes from behind you and it’s a battle not to roll your eyes at him. As if any Topsiders would think to look up.

Not wanting to tear your eyes from the sight for even just a second, you blindly chuck your backpack towards him and pay no attention to the gruff little “Oof,” that follows it.

In mere seconds, you’re standing up at the edge of the roof, peering across at the twinkling lights that illuminate the most beautiful spectacle you’ve ever seen. Inside the building, people are gathered in small groups around the edge of the main room, sipping their drinks as they chatter and laugh with bright, carefree smiles.

It’s as if you’re viewing a dollhouse from afar, watching a scene unfold that you’d only read about in books or heard in passing from those lucky enough to have witnessed it themselves.

You can’t help yourself. Your jaw becomes slack at the sight of it all.

The opulence. The unthinkable ease of life.

A warm presence appears at your side and you barely even have to turn your head to recognise how disgusted he is by it all. A frivolity and flaunting of wealth that the two of you will probably never be privileged enough to truly experience.

You can tell by the beginnings of a sneer on his scarred lips that he’s about to delve into a long, impassioned rant, so you decide to distract him before he can even begin.

"How do you think they do that?"

Silco pauses, a surprised look briefly crossing his face. He then pivots his head to look at you as a puzzled frown begins to etch over his features.

"Do what?" he asks, his voice a low rumble.

You nod towards the dancing couples in the centre of the ballroom, all paired up like perfectly matched dolls on the immaculately polished floor. Watching their synchronised movements is almost hypnotic, you quickly decide. Definitely capable of pulling you into a trance if you were to stare for too long.

"All those complicated steps,” you reply. “How do they know which order to do them in?"

"I don't know, they probably have hours of pointless lessons while we're breaking our backs just trying to survive," Silco scoffs, no doubt pairing it with his signature eye roll.

You ignore his comment and try to focus a little bit more closely on the movement of the dancers.

It’s difficult to tell with long dresses masking their feet, but you manage to pick up that they’re travelling in three distinct steps in time to the music. And they somehow manage to turn with each other, joined together by a delicate, yet precise hold with their arms.

But no matter how hard you squint and tilt your head, you can’t quite figure out how the couples are moving together in perfect tandem, so after a quick glance to your side, you grab onto the top of Silco’s arms, spinning him round to face you.

The look of pure bewilderment on his face is incredibly entertaining as you tug him towards you and attempt to place one of his hands on the small of your back.

"What the fuck are-”

"Oh hush," you scold him playfully. "I just want to see how they do this without tripping each other up."

He opens his mouth (probably to interrogate you further or perhaps to groan at you and call you ridiculous), but promptly snaps it shut again when both of your hands land firmly on his waist.

You’re just about to place one hand on his bicep, almost certain that you have the arm positions right at this point, when he snatches both of your hands in his and holds you still.

Now it’s your turn to open your mouth, ready to demonstrate your indignation at his stubborn nature, when Silco pointedly turns his head and looks down at the ballroom dancers. And then your words get completely caught in your throat as he gently places your left hand on his shoulder, moulding your body to his like an astute sculptor.

The simple action sends your heart into a curious little flutter that you’re really not sure how to feel about.

After readjusting both of your stances so that one of his hands is snaked around your back, Silco carefully takes your right hand in his left and holds it up so that both of your arms are held up and out to the side.

“There,” he looks at you with a nod, appearing irritatingly pleased with himself.

“Yeah, well, that was the easy bit,” you grumble at him. “Now we have to figure out what to do with our legs.”

And thus begins the process of trying to copy the flawless movements of the clearly well-practised dancers, all the while clinging to one another to make sure you don’t accidentally send each other careening off the roof with your clumsy steps.

Part of you is incredibly relieved that you’re too high up for anyone to hear your shared and rather emphatic exclamations of no, you’re meant to step backwards when I step forwards and owww, you're not supposed to stand on my toes, you cretin!

Funnily enough, it reminds you of when you were first taught to fight as a kid, by none other than the boy currently trying to teach you how to dance. Except this time, you’re not the only one who is a complete beginner.

But thankfully after a little while of repeating the same steps, you both begin to get into the rhythm of the choreography, relying on each other to move together as one.

Back, side, close. Forward, side, close.

In fact, after a few repetitions, you realise that you’re barely even looking down to copy the real dancers anymore.

"Hey! I think we're actually doing it!" you exclaim, grinning up at Silco with a beaming smile.

He smiles back immediately, except his is more of an amused little smirk.

Then, his gravelly voice rumbles across the short distance between your chests, drawing your attention to just how close the two of you are. It sends a flush up your neck that you hope he can’t see.

"Somehow I don't think our ability to copy their frilly dances will suddenly convince them that we're no longer gutter rats."

"Speak for yourself, rat boy, I'm more than ready to move into my mansion," you sniff haughtily, raising your nose in the air like a Piltie aristocrat.

He rolls his eyes and tugs you a little bit closer to him.

"I bet you are.”

It feels like barely any time has passed at all when the music draws to a gentle close, meaning the unfortunate end to your little impromptu dance. Granted, you hadn’t completely mastered the flow of the routine, and neither of you could turn with the steps, or include any fancy spins or dips.

But within the space of one song, you’d learned how to waltz together.

When the final notes of the melody fade out and are replaced by a spattering of polite applause, you glance back over at the dancers in the glass-topped building, wondering what would be the proper way to end such a refined dance.

Expecting to witness a series of curtseys and bows, you’re utterly startled to see that most of the couples end the dance with a simple, chaste kiss. And despite the fact that it’s nothing more than a quick peck on the lips, your heart suddenly feels like it’s jumped up in your chest.

Your eyes snap back to Silco who is watching the dancers below with an expression that is probably very similar to your own. By now, you’ve both stopped moving, but you’re still holding onto each other, neither of you seemingly wanting to let go just yet.

Slowly, his head turns back to you and immediately upon meeting your gaze, an adorable flush of pink dusts his cheeks.

"Uh…should we…" he stumbles over his words, seafoam eyes darting from your lips, to your eyes, to his feet. "I mean-"

You’ve never known Silco to trip over his words and it causes your heart to race. Suddenly your whole body feels too hot and you’re extremely aware of where his hands are keeping a hold of you.

Honestly, you can’t remember a time not liking Silco, and sure, you’ve definitely thought about kissing him before. But right now, as he looks at you all wide-eyed and nervous, you feel like it actually could happen, and you’re not sure what it would mean to either one of you if you did.

Would it mean as much to him as it would to you?

It almost feels surreal how one little moment is forcing you to finally confront all your built-up feelings for him.

You and Silco have been best friends since you were children and you’d always just assumed that being with him would never happen… But could it?

It all feels too much at once, everything building up in your chest until you start to feel a bit dizzy, so you make a snap decision before you do something that might accidentally ruin your best friendship.

"We should get back home before Vander thinks we've fucked up the job and sends out a search party," you tell him decisively, despite the sudden urge to grab his face and kiss him breathless.

Silco quickly nods his head a few times, but you don’t miss the way his seafoam eyes flicker down to your lips before snapping back up to meet your gaze once more. By now, his pupils are so dilated, you can barely see that enchanting green that you’ve come to love so much.

"Good shout," he says, nodding again, but this time much more stoically and with his lips pulled into a thin line, as if he’s holding back from saying more.

He begins to step back from you (almost reluctantly if you were to really think about it), but before he can pull away completely, you keep a hold of his hand and force him to stop still.

Silco’s eyes widen even further as he looks at you questioningly but instead of explaining yourself, you look him dead in the eyes and perform an entirely exaggerated and horrendously shaky curtsey.

"I thank you for this dance, good sir. It was indeed a most enjoyable experience," you tell him in the poshest, most ridiculous accent you can muster.

"Oh, piss off," Silco responds, playfully shoving you away and finally letting go of your hand.

You immediately miss the warmth of it.

A carefree laugh bubbles from you as Silco strides across the roof to fetch both of your backpacks, but you manage to catch the smirk that he tries to hide as he bends down.

He throws your backpack at you a little too forcefully and it causes you to squeal in surprise.

“Oi!” you call out, fully intending to chastise him and accuse the boy of trying to make you fall off the roof, when you notice the pink lining his cheeks has deepened to a red.

It’s enough to make you hold your tongue, allowing him to pass by you and begin to climb back down the side of the building.

And as you follow him, you can’t stop thinking about what it could mean. Did you say something that embarrassed him? Was he just hot from the physical movement of the dance?

Or is it something more?

You descend the building within minutes, your mind working overtime all the way down, desperately hoping you haven’t made things weird between the two of you. But just as you’re about to make the final hop down to the ground, Silco turns and offers his hand to you, an incredibly soft look swimming in his eyes.

You stare at his hand for a few seconds before accepting, feeling your own cheeks flush as you’re suddenly unable to hide the grin that takes over your lips.

With Silco holding you steady, you jump down and make sure your bag is securely strapped to your back before winding through the streets of Piltover, heading for the bridge that will take you back to Zaun.

And to your quiet delight, Silco holds your hand for the entire journey home.

part 2

A/N: Hello, my fellow silco lovers, long time no see, I hope you are all doing okay!

Instead of giving you a list of all the rubbish reasons why I haven’t been writing recently, please take my apologies for such rusty writing, and a humble offering of telling you that this little fic will have 3 parts to it and will be incredibly soft because we all deserve some soft silco. (Part 2 is my personal fave!)

I’ll also mention that Pas de Deux and The Wrong Place at the Wrong Time are not abandoned, neither is Yes or No?, or any other multi-chapter I’ve started, but I should probably make a proper post about all of that… (why is posting so scary??)

Anyhow, love ya’s, hope you’re all safe and well, please consider telling me your favourite joke in the comments or my inbox <3 -el x

#silco x reader #silco #silco x you #silco x f!reader #silco fic

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