#but i HAD to tell and let them know i love the work they done dubbing it so here we go!

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | it was never meant to be (2/2) continued...

୨ৎ : featuring : carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : your ex f1 boyfriend regrets letting you go so easily.

୨ৎ : genre : reconcilation, heartbreak, angst, sad themes, moving-on ୨ৎ : tws : moving onto someone else, unforgiveness ୨ৎ : word count : 1491

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

୨ৎ find part one here ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 : buy me a ko-fi ☕️

ʚ・carlos sainz

you were just finishing up at the checkout when the cashier smiled and said, “that man behind you paid for your things.”

you froze, confused. “what? i didn’t ask anyone to—”

“i did,” carlos said, stepping up behind you.

you turned quickly, instantly feeling your frustration rise. “carlos? what are you doing here?”

“i saw you walk in,” he said. “i didn’t mean to surprise you. i just… wanted to talk.”

you shook your head, annoyed. “why would you pay for my stuff? i didn’t ask for your help.”

“i know,” he said quietly. “i didn’t ask, but i wanted to. i’ve been wanting to talk to you. to apologize.”

you felt the anger well up in you again. “you already apologized, carlos. and i’m not interested in hearing it again.”

“i’m not just apologizing,” he said, his voice softer now. “i was wrong. i let myself get caught up in things that weren’t real. i thought i was doing the right thing, but i hurt you. and i’ve regretted it every day since.”

you crossed your arms, holding your bag tightly. “you hurt me, carlos. you chose her. and now it’s too late.”

“i know it’s late,” he said, stepping closer. “but i love you. i never stopped loving you. and i’ll do anything to show you i’m serious. i’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.”

you looked away, trying to keep your cool. “it’s not that easy. you don’t just get to mess things up and then expect everything to be fine.”

“i don’t expect it to be easy,” he said quickly. “but i want to try. i’ll prove it to you, every day if i have to. please, just let me try.”

you felt a tug in your chest, but you held firm. “fine,” you said finally. “we can try. but i’m not promising anything.”

carlos nodded, relief flooding his face. “thank you. i’ll do whatever it takes.”

as you turned to walk out, you felt a small weight lift off your shoulders. maybe this could work. maybe he could prove he was serious. time would tell.

ʚ・charles leclerc

you hadn’t expected to see charles here, not today. but there he was, standing in front of you, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. the second his eyes met yours, his whole expression changed.

“can we talk?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, full of hope and regret.

you crossed your arms, fighting the urge to walk away. “what’s there to talk about? you made your choice.”

he shook his head, his face filled with guilt. “i know i messed up. i’ve thought about this so much. i should’ve chosen you. i’m sorry, i never wanted to hurt you. i never stopped loving you.”

the words felt familiar, like you’d heard them before, but this time, his eyes looked different—genuine. still, you couldn’t ignore what he had done.

“you chose everything else, charles,” you said quietly. “your career, the pressure, the public… and i was just left behind.”

he stepped a little closer, his voice tight with emotion. “i was wrong. i was stupid, and i’ll never forgive myself for it. but i swear, i love you. only you.”

you didn’t say anything at first. his words lingered, and you could feel the weight of everything between you. slowly, the walls around your heart began to crumble. could he really be sorry? could he really change?

weeks passed, and slowly, charles did everything he could to prove that he was serious. he didn’t just talk about how sorry he was—he showed it. he kept reaching out, always there when you needed him, even in the small ways. and bit by bit, you started to let him back in.

one night, after all the time that had passed, you looked at him and realized something. he wasn’t the same. he’d grown. and maybe, just maybe, he deserved a second chance.

“i was an idiot,” he said, his voice raw. “i didn’t know what i had until i lost it. i’ll spend the rest of my life trying to show you i’m the man you deserve.”

you smiled a little, your hand finding his. “maybe you’ve earned it,” you said quietly.

he smiled back, relief flooding his face. for the first time in so long, you both felt like maybe, just maybe, you could start over.

ʚ・lando norris

lando sat alone in his apartment, his gaze fixed on the window as he stared out at the city. the silence around him was suffocating, a constant reminder of everything he had lost. the photos, the headlines, and the moments with her that had slowly become real. he had let it happen, let the illusion become something more. and now, all he had left was regret.

he ran a hand through his hair, the weight of it all pressing down on him. he had promised you it was just for the cameras, a quick pr stunt to keep his image clean. he never meant for it to go this far. but now he knew he had made a mistake—one he couldn’t fix.

it had all slipped away from him so easily. you had been there, always. but he had pushed you aside for something superficial, something he thought was more important. the career, the spotlight, the endless demands from the outside world. he had taken you for granted. and now, he didn’t know how to fix it.

he let out a deep breath, his mind replaying every moment when he had hurt you, when he had chosen her over you. the look in your eyes when you walked away, when you told him that it was too late. he had never wanted to hurt you. but he did. and now, he didn’t know how to make it right.

a part of him knew he didn’t deserve forgiveness. he had failed you in every way possible. and now, he was left with the bitter taste of realizing just how much he had messed up. he had chosen everything else over you, and now, there was nothing left to choose from.

he sank into the couch, his head in his hands. there was no turning back. he had made his choice, and now, he had to live with it. but the thought of never having you again, of losing you for good—it was a pain he couldn’t escape.

it was too late. he had let you go, and now he had to suffer the consequences.

ʚ・oscar piastri

oscar sat in the corner of the driver’s lounge, his eyes fixed on the floor, hands running through his hair in frustration. lando noticed immediately and walked over, plopping down in the chair across from him. “what’s going on, mate? you look like you’ve been run over.”

oscar scoffed, shaking his head. “i screwed up, lando. i lost her… and i don’t even know how.”

lando raised an eyebrow. “what do you mean? what happened?”

oscar’s voice was heavy with regret. “i thought i could handle everything—media, sponsors, the pr stuff. but i got too caught up in it, and now… she’s gone. and i don’t think she’s coming back.”

lando’s face hardened. “so you went for the pr stunt, huh? you really thought you could juggle it all and not hurt her?”

oscar’s hands tightened into fists. “i didn’t mean for it to happen like that. i thought it was just for the cameras. but i started caring about her—more than i should’ve. and now i’m stuck with this mess.”

lando leaned forward, shaking his head. “you’re an idiot, oscar.”

oscar looked up in shock. “what?”

“you heard me,” lando said, voice firm. “you let the world tell you who you were supposed to be. you let her go thinking you could keep playing the game. and now? you’re alone. because you didn’t fight for her.”

oscar’s throat tightened. “i didn’t want it to go this far, lando. i tried to make it work, but… i messed up.”

lando crossed his arms, glaring at him. “yeah, you messed up. you had the chance, but you blew it. you could’ve stopped it, but you didn’t. you let it slip away.”

oscar’s chest tightened, the weight of it hitting him. “what do i do now?”

lando sighed. “nothing you can do now, mate. you made your choice, and now you have to live with it.”

oscar sank back in his chair, the realization settling in. “i don’t deserve another chance, do i?”

lando shook his head. “no, you don’t. but maybe you’ll learn something from this. just don’t make the same mistake again.”

oscar stared at the floor, the guilt gnawing at him. he had taken it all for granted. and now, there was no going back. the silence stretched between them, and he knew lando was right—he couldn’t fix this. he had lost you, and the consequences were his to bear.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[cressidagrey]

Schrodinger's... Girlfriend? - Chapter 6: Of Burglaries and Beasts

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Original Character

Summary:

Oscar Piastri’s love life is the talk of the F1 world—mainly because no one’s ever seen his girlfriend. Does she exist? Or is she just a figment of his imagination? Detective Lando Norris to the rescue!

Warnings: 

I don't think there are any?

Lando had actually stolen his phone. 

Oscar wasn’t quite sure if he should be impressed or scared. 

He was leaning towards scared, because Lando had this glint in his eyes, ever since he had been forced to give back said phone by Zac. 

And now there they were…The Silverstone Fanstage 2024 was buzzing with excitement. 

Meanwhile, Oscar would rather be anywhere but there, but that’s what he got for being a Formula 1 driver. 

So there they stood, microphones in hand, while the moderator asked questions and Lando was as charming as only he could be. 

And then the interviewer decided to throw them a curveball. 

“Alright, Oscar!” the moderator started, her voice playful. “There’s been a lot of talk about your mysterious girlfriend over the last few weeks. Can you clear the air and finally tell us the truth?”

Oh, come on. 

Oscar glanced at the crowd, his nerves obvious as he laughed awkwardly. “You know, you guys have been working overtime with these theories.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “But yeah, she’s real. She’s just… private.”

It wasn’t even that Nessie would actually care if the relationship became public knowledge. Neither of them cared. They had talked about it before…it was more that neither of them wanted the hassle that came along with making it public…and quite frankly, fucking with Lando was way too much fun these days. 

Lando, who had been quietly watching the exchange, smirked, clearly not able to resist. “Private? Or imaginary?”

Oscar just rolled his eyes. This again? “Nessie is very much real, thank you very much,” he responded tersely.  A beat of silence passed, and then it hit him. He immediately realized what he’d just said. The slip-up was out there, and there was no taking it back.

Lando’s eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face. “Wait, did you just say ‘Nessie’?” he asked, his voice tinged with laughter. “As in the Loch Ness Monster?!”

Oscar’s face immediately turned red as he slapped a hand to his forehead. 

Ugh. 

“No, I didn’t—ugh, I mean, forget I said that. That was a slip-up,” he said with a grimace.

Lando burst out laughing, leaning into the microphone, clearly reveling in the moment. “Guys, you heard it here first,” he announced, his voice echoing across the stage. “Oscar’s girlfriend is the Loch Ness Monster. No wonder no one’s ever seen her! She’s hiding in a lake somewhere.”

Oscar groaned, his head dropping into his hands as he rubbed his temples. “I hate this. I already regret everything.”

Lando, not missing a beat, turned to the crowd and continued to tease. “Seriously, though. This doesn’t help your case, mate. How are we supposed to believe she’s real when she’s named after a mythical creature?”

Oscar just sighed. “Look, she’s not the Loch Ness Monster,” he told Lando with a roll of his eyes. “Nessie is very much a real person. She’s brilliant, actually. Smarter than me, that’s for sure.” But then seemingly everybody was stupid if you compared the to his genius girlfriend. 

“Nessie is incredibly supportive of me and I am so lucky to have her as my girlfriend,” he said, which was the simple truth. 

Lando laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m stopping now. But ‘Nessie’ really doesn’t help your case here, Oscar.” He paused for effect. “I’m just saying, it’s not exactly proof that she’s real.”

Oscar rolled his eyes, done with the teasing. “You’ll never let this go, will you?”

The moderator, sensing the tension and wanting to steer the conversation back to something more positive, smiled warmly. “Well, it’s clear she’s been a big source of support for you, Oscar. That’s really sweet to hear.”

Oscar nodded, his voice softening. “Yeah, she’s definitely my biggest cheerleader. She just makes everything feel better. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without her.”

Lando, not able to resist one last jab, mockingly wiped away a tear with the back of his hand. “Aww, Oscar’s a softie! But seriously, I’m happy for you, mate, even if your girlfriend’s an ancient legend from Scotland.”

Oscar rolled his eyes again, unable to hold back a smile. “You’re impossible.”

The moderator chuckled, trying to bring the conversation to a close. “Alright, alright. We’ll move on from the Loch Ness drama. Oscar, it’s clear you care about her a lot. You’re happy, and that’s what matters.”

Oscar smiled, his earlier discomfort fading as he thought of Nessie. “Yeah, I’m really happy. And trust me, she’s not a myth.”

Lando, still clearly entertained by the whole situation, leaned in with a grin. “Well, I still think you’re dating a mythical creature. But hey, if she’s real, I guess I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Oscar shook his head, laughing despite himself. “You’ll meet her one day. Just not in a lake.”

Maybe sooner than Lando thought after all. 

Lando, ever the showman, leaned into the microphone again with a wink. “Loch Ness Merch Drop coming soon!”

Oscar laughed, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “I swear, Lando…”

The moderator, now clearly enjoying the banter, smiled at the crowd. “Thank you, guys. Oscar, you’ve definitely given us some good material for today’s session!”

Oscar, still grinning but shaking his head at Lando, laughed along. “I regret every word I said.”

Lando, on the other hand, was still in stitches. “Nah, mate. This is gold. I’ll never let you live it down.”

Oscar buried his face in his hands once more, but he couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at his lips. The crowd erupted in laughter, and for a brief moment, Oscar could only laugh along with them—Nessie or not, this was one conversation that would follow him for a long time.

[aeristrawberi]

Burning Bridges and hearts

Summary : The line between hate and curiosity blurs as you find yourself tangled in Jaeyun's chaotic world. With bruises that tell a thousand stories and a sharp tongue that keeps you on edge, he's as infuriating as he is mysterious. But when an unexpected moment of vulnerability shatters your perception of him, you begin to wonder if there's more beneath his rough exterior. Could the boy you vowed to avoid be the one to rewrite your story?

Genre : Angst, there Will be smut themes!, fluff, smau chapters too! Let’s say the typical bad boy love story with a plot?

Pairing : Bad boy Sim Jaeyun! x fem!reader

Warnings : in the first few chapters he is a bad chaotic guy but will eventually turn into a cute handsome puppy hehe, mentions of past toxic relationship! Bruises! Bandage! Blood! Fights! If I forgot something don’t be scared to tell me!

Taglist will be open! Not for long tho!!

ADDI’S NOTE : thinking of making it in a 3 part series or more…anyways hope you’ll like it 😇

(LOOK GOOD AT THE END!!!!!!)

Part 2 | Part 3

The first time you heard Sim Jaeyun’s motorcycle roar to life, you were sure someone was trying to demolish the neighborhood.

You had been in your new house barely a month, still unboxing dishes and wrestling with furniture. It wasn’t the picturesque start you imagined when you signed the papers chipped paint and creaky doors aside. The biggest problem wasn’t your fixer-upper house, though. It was the nightmare next door.

Sim Jaeyun.

His name would feel like a curse on your tongue.

Every day was the same. His motorcycle’s growl echoed through the narrow street at ungodly hours, shaking the windows and your patience. You’d flinch, silently cursing him as you glared through the blinds. If that wasn’t bad enough, the screaming matches followed. Yelling, doors slamming, things breaking it was chaos, and it spilled into your peaceful mornings like spilled ink on a clean page. His girlfriend’s voice was the loudest, shrill and cutting, but Jaeyun wasn’t exactly silent either.

You didn’t even know what they argued about, but it made your skin crawl. The noise never failed to disrupt your day,whether you were working, cooking, or lying in bed at night staring at the ceiling. Then there were the bruises.

Sometimes you’d spot him in the driveway, leaning against his motorcycle with a cigarette in hand, a scowl plastered across his handsome face. Bandages on his knuckles. Scratches along his jaw. A faint purple bruise under his eye. You couldn’t tell if he was getting into fights or being dragged through one. He didn’t look like someone who cared about what people thought of him,unruly hair, dark hoodies, leather jackets, cigarettes..If you caught his gaze by accident, it would linger a second too long, enough to make you look away. You hated him. You hated her. You hated them. But most of all, you hated that you were curious.

It was a Thursday evening when the yelling reached a fever pitch. You had just settled on the couch, ready to enjoy a quiet dinner, when a scream from next door startled you so badly you almost dropped your fork.

“I’M DONE! I SWEAR, I’M DONE WITH YOU!” The girlfriend’s voice, sharp as nails, cut through the walls.

“BUT YOU’RE STILL HERE?!” Jaeyun roared back. A loud crash followed something breaking and then another slam of what sounded like a door. Your heart jumped to your throat. You stood up, torn between ignoring it and the gnawing instinct to check outside. Curiosity got the better of you. Pulling your cardigan tight around you, you peeked through the blinds.

Jaeyun stood in the driveway. The porch light cast shadows across his frame as he leaned over his motorcycle, breathing hard, fists clenched. Even from here, you could see his shoulders rising and falling with every breath. A fresh scrape marked his cheek, the crimson line stark against his skin. His girlfriend, nowhere in sight, had left the front door wide open.

You didn’t realize you were staring until he looked up.

For a beat, everything stopped. Jaeyun’s dark eyes locked onto yours, and your breath caught in your chest. The anger on his face didn’t fade, but his expression shifted like he had caught you intruding on something private. The corner of his lip curled, but it wasn’t a smile. You ducked back behind the blinds like an idiot, your face burning “Creep,” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head “Why do I care?”

You didn’t know. And you wouldn’t let yourself think about it too much. The next morning, you were greeted by the low rumble of Jaeyun’s motorcycle starting up again. It was almost a routine now, the sound a warning that peace and quiet would remain out of reach.

You grabbed your keys, deciding that some air and a coffee run would clear your head. But as you stepped outside, you froze. Jaeyun was there, sitting on the steps of his porch. A cigarette dangled between his fingers as he glanced up at you, his eyes shadowed. His knuckles were bruised again.

“Morning,” he said, his voice rough like gravel.You blinked at him, surprised he spoke first. “Uh… morning,” you muttered, gripping your keys a little tighter.

He didn’t move, just stared at you with a look you couldn’t quite place.“You always watch people through your window?” he asked suddenly, his lips quirking into something that resembled a smirk. Your cheeks flushed. “I wasn’t watching you,” you shot back. “Your yelling…woke me up”

“Oh? My bad,” he drawled, not sounding sorry at all. You scoffed, turning toward your car without another word. But as you opened the door, his voice stopped you. “You should mind your own business, new girl,” he said, his tone lighter now, teasing. “You might not like what you find.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, narrowing your eyes. “I don’t want to find anything about you or your girl.”

He grinned a real, lopsided grin that made your stomach twist, much to your dismay.“We’ll see about that,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. As you drove off, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Jaeyun was still watching you and that this was only the beginning of something you weren’t ready for. “Why does he have to be so damn annoying?” you thought, gripping the wheel tighter. But somewhere, buried deep in your chest, was the faintest thrum of anticipation and that terrified you most of all. The weekend rolled around faster than you expected, though it wasn’t any quieter. By now, you knew better than to expect peace when Jaeyun’s motorcycle was involved. The rumble had become as familiar as background noise, though that didn’t mean it was any less irritating.

On Saturday morning, you decided to take control of your day. You tied your hair back, pulled on some sneakers, and headed outside to tackle the front yard a mess of weeds, overgrown grass, and scattered leaves. It wasn’t glamorous, but at least it was productive.

Half an hour in, sweat dotted your forehead, and you were almost proud of the dent you made in the chaos. That pride shattered when the sound you dreaded most pierced through the morning air. The motorcycle.

You gritted your teeth, refusing to look up as Jaeyun rolled out of his driveway. The engine cut off, and for a moment, you felt relief…until you heard his voice. “You missed a spot.”

You froze, your fingers tightening around the rake in your hand. Slowly, you turned your head to find Jaeyun standing at the edge of his driveway, arms crossed and an infuriating smirk playing on his lips.

“Excuse me?” you snapped. He nodded toward the weeds near the edge of your lawn. “Right there. If you’re going to play house, you might as well do it right.” You stared at him, incredulous. “Do I look like I need your advice?” “Clearly, you need something,” he teased, shrugging. “Just trying to help.”

“You want to help?” you shot back, exasperated. “Turn down your damn motorcycle once in a while and keep your drama inside your house.”

His smile faltered, just for a second. You thought you saw something shift behind his eyes a flicker of something deeper, rawer, before his smirk returned.

“Noted,” he said, his voice quieter but still teasing. He glanced at your yard again. “Good luck with that mess.” And with that, he walked back to his bike, the metallic clink of his keys cutting through the air. The engine roared to life, and you watched, irritated, as he sped off down the street.

Later that evening, as you sat on your porch with a cup of tea, you couldn’t help but replay the interaction in your mind. There was something about Jaeyun…something infuriating, yes, but also intriguing. The way he smirked,The way his voice softened, just for a moment, before he covered it with sarcasm.

You shook your head, willing yourself to stop thinking about him.

But as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the street in a warm glow, you found your gaze drifting to the house next door and the boy who seemed to carry chaos wherever he went.

ADDI’S NOTE : HOW DID I DO IT YAALLLL? THIS TOOK ME LIKE 3 HOURS TO WRITE AND THINK ABOUT THE IDEAS LMAAAOOO I LOVE IT HOPE YOU ENJOYED READING THIS THERES MORE TO COME SO DW! MAKE SURE TO REBLOG IT IF YOU LOVE (maybe also follow 🤭)

©aeristrawberi 2025. do not copy translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

[asairayn]

OKAY HERE'S THE ANALYSIS OF ORIGINAL ECLIPSE

I LOVE THIS. such good interpretations of every version of eclipse.

I do want to talk about the original Eclipse, though, because I have a lot of thoughts on him and his motivation and his issues- I might be a little bit biased towards him (I wrote over 20k words about him over about eight months and wasn't even CLOSE to done).

So! Trying to analyze Eclipse at the very start is kind of difficult because... so much has been retconned, or forgotten about, or turned out to be just Not True- remember when Eclipse said he caused July 16th? Hard to tell whether that was him lying or something that got retconned as soon as they realized they needed a second villain.

But! from the best I can gather, largely from much later episodes that talk about the beginning, the original Eclipse was actually very heavily motivated by feeling betrayed. He actually said it himself

The original Eclipse was Moon. He started out as Moon, he had all the same memories... and then he was abandoned. Fully. Before he even existed. And then he was left in Sun's head for... an indeterminably long time (has the timeline been cleared up yet? how goddamn long before the show starts did july 16th happen?? because he was conscious in Sun's head for long enough before that to create Bloodmoon.), where he was able to hear and maybe see what was going on around Sun... but not do anything. Solitary confinement will get to anyone!

(He actually talked about that as a betrayal and how much it Sucked to be stuck in Sun's head in this clip (well. the reincarnation did. but good fucking luck finding the original eclipse talking about feelings.))

So he was Moon, and then he came to consciousness stuck in Sun's head with Moon's memories still thinking he was Moon, and then was stuck there for... a long time. He created Bloodmoon fairly early... and then was immediately abandoned again. Somehow, in however long he spent in the void in Sun's head (I have a lot of thoughts on that void, but they're not technically canon), he managed to craft himself a new identity. Because he was Moon!

And then he watched Sun and Moon get to exist and have a life while he was stuck for a long time in what was essentially solitary confinement. He hated them- he hated them a lot. It's mentioned many times, especially in the first few episodes with teaps Sun and Moon (i'm at that point in trying to catch up, so. i don't know whatever's happened beyond that), that Eclipse fucking hated being stuck in Sun's head- he hated loss of control, he hated having to watch.

And it shows in what he was trying to do! He hated Moon for abandoning him, and he hated Sun for not letting him have control... so he tortured Moon and completely revoked all control from Sun. Technically his goal in that era is to get the star, to... erase the world and make it better, or something, but. To me, that doesn't show at all- he doesn't act like that's his goal, he mostly acts like that's a fun pastime while he tries to lock Sun and Moon away permanently.

That all doesn't work, evidently. Lunar betrays him, which everybody but him expected, and lets Moon help Sun figure out what the hell to do, and eventually Eclipse gets killed/expelled from Sun's head. Goodbye to the original Eclipse, sucks to suck loser, shouldn't have abused your brother.

But the original Eclipse, at his core, hated Moon for abandoning him but hated Sun for locking him away.

He was mostly motivated by hatred- he'd had a long time to stew in it. He had a lot of abandonment issues and a lot of spite.

Quite literally, at that time, the only way that he could have any kind of control was by shoving Sun into his own head... which made both Sun and Moon hate him more. There wasn't actually any way he could take control without pissing them off- excluding maybe communication, but it's Eclipse. and he'd have to be communicating with Moon (notoriously bad at communication). He also had zero communication skills- he was Moon and then spent a long time unable to talk to anyone.

BUT THE JULY 16TH THING THAT I MENTIONED EARLIER IS IMPORTANT. I forgot I was going to talk about that.

So! The biggest thing that made Sun and Moon hate Eclipse from the beginning was that he claimed he was the one who took over Sun's body and killed a bunch of children on July 16th. Well, technically, he may have just said that he caused it and let Sun and Moon come to their own conclusions about how- but in the beginning, he was definitely saying that he was the one who killed people on July 16th.

And... that was a lie. Or retconned. Hard to say. You could technically say that he did still cause July 16th by creating Bloodmoon, but that's still a different thing. He didn't take control and murder children with his own hands- he created a person who got bored and took control to murder children.

But that means that Sun and Moon originally hated him for something he didn't do. They had other reasons to dislike him, sure, and he certainly gave them more reasons, but. The original thing wasn't actually him.

That has very little actual bearing on anything. They don't bring that up- it's not a Thing. but. it means something to me, I suppose. When Eclipse first showed up, the only Bad Thing™ that he'd done directly was take control by force. He portrayed himself from the beginning as the Big Bad, but he hadn't really done anything yet. I'm sure at least part of that was because- at least from what I can tell- they didn't actually have any plans for Bloodmoon yet so at that point he was the July 16th killer, but retcons just mean more fun for me.

Eclipse intentionally showed himself as the Bad Guy. He hated Moon for abandoning him, hated Sun because he was stuck in his head, and everything he did for the first few months was just... based in the kill code. He basically just did violence, until he started fucking with Sun and Moon, at which point he was filled with so much spite he couldn't be convinced to do anything else- and they didn't try.

Eclipse threatened Sun- the only person who Moon cared about ("Hi, I'm Moondrop, I don't care about anybody aside from my brother."). No matter what, Moon was going to hate him from that point on. Eclipse started by doing the one thing that Moon would not tolerate.

And then Eclipse created Lunar, for... somewhat vague reasons. And was awful to him, somewhat unsurprisingly. And, because he was horrible to Lunar, he would NEVER be forgiven (Until he came back from the third time, and was enough of a new person for Earth- who also Wasn't There- to not care).

I'm... very clearly biased towards the original Eclipse. I hate him so much and I've written so much about him and everything I wrote keeps being proven correct EVERY SINGLE TIME THEY TALK ABOUT THE ORIGINAL ECLIPSE.

Um. I'll be honest I don't actually know where the fuck I was going with this and I maybe just wanted an excuse to scream about Eclipse. And accidentally wrote over a thousand words of it.

Is there a certain way you go about the characterizations of the different incarnations of Eclipse?

Their motivations!

So at his core, Eclipse is an angry, paranoid, spiteful, arrogant, lonely, possessive, socially-inept person who can't communicate to save his own life. No matter where in his life you're writing him from, these traits persist.

The differences come in what his goal is, and which of his core traits are being amplified because of it.

I've written the Original Eclipse the least, mostly because I actually got interested in the show following his death 8'D. This Eclipse is the most closed off of all of them, the least likely to change his mind, the angriest and most vindictive. He hasn't been betrayed yet, he hasn't really failed yet, so his arrogance is at an all time high.

On the flip side, after his defeat and expulsion from Sun's head, this is also the rawest point in Eclipse's life. There's a lot of good fics about scraping his broken ass out of the woods and patching him up, and for good reason. Strip his arrogance away with his loss, and he has nothing.

My favorite is the Backup Eclipse. Eclipse 2.0, my beloved! Still arrogant, still angry, but spite is his strongest trait. He was defeated and he knows it, and he's learned that he needs to be a bit smarter in manipulating those around him. By escalating the game to the next level when he amplified Moon's kill code (giving us the guy, Kill Code), Eclipse started a chain reaction that is STILL going on in current canon.

The Backup is my favorite because his characterization runs from one end of the spectrum to the other. He comes back as a bedraggled version of himself, forced to deal with basically being Bloodmoon's prisoner while also getting them to work for him. He manages to enact one victory after another, culminating in him actually gaining the star. He did it, he won!

And then he fucking crashes.

Possession and loneliness are his strongest traits in the second half of his arc, and he picks up depression as well. Spite has become bitterness. Eclipse was never supposed to win, and he knows it. The star was only ever a means to an end, a way to get Moon's attention. And when Moon resets himself... Eclipse doesn't know what to do. He attempts to respark that rivalry, but New Moon isn't interested.

With no goal to latch on to, Eclipse crumples under his own misery and lack of purpose. On his way to winning, he destroyed everything that made his life interesting.

And then he got space lasered.

And then finally Eclipse 3.0, the Recreated Eclipse. I don't make a distinction between who he was before Lunar blew up his body and after, though I know some folks do.

Eclipse 3.0 starts off with anger, of course, and a lot of confusion and desperation. For a good amount of time in there he was p much feral. This one is mired in self-pity, and lashes out because of it.

Because that's what makes this one really interesting. He's picking up from where the Backup left off-- he has no purpose. I think he sunk his claws into the goal of 'find my creator' just to HAVE a goal. He's also interacting regularly with other people for the first time in his life(s), even if he does spend a lot of time taunting Moon for stuff that neither of them were personally there for.

Two things, I think, really helped Eclipse start stabilizing. The first was, uh. Solar's death 8'D More specifically, it was Puppet giving him an impossible task to focus on, and Eclipse always needs a goal. The second was Earth started socializing him. Which I love-- hell, I wrote that myself back in Sunk Cost. Earth always had the advantage of not being personally victimized by Eclipse like her siblings were, which let her be more tolerant of him.

Eclipse in his current state is still arrogant and possessive, and his people skills still suck. He's 'better' as a kind of side effect to Puppet's request; bringing Solar back, doing this Super Important Thing That Even Moon Failed At? Was a major ego boost. Eclipse learned a very important lesson:

Doing good things gets you attention and praise.

Which is why I think he had such a rocky start with the new dimension Sun and Moon 8'D He was chasing the high of being the hero, at the cost of actually paying attention to what was going on. He knew how things were supposed to go, that made him The Smartest. He's a good guy for extremely selfish reasons XD

But he's also finally made it to where a lot of fanfic authors have gotten him. A little less lonely, a few wounds healed. He does have people he cares about, without any intent for manipulation involved.

So yeah. I guess in summary:

Original Eclipse (Upright): Vindictive, angry. Would bite your hand off rather than take it Original Eclipse (Reversed): Lost, bewildered. A feral animal, but one that can be tamed.

Backup Eclipse (Upright): Spiteful, serious. Lost the game once already, has no intention of losing again. Backup Eclipse (Reversed): Bitter, desolate. An Eclipse without a purpose, can be coaxed onto new paths. Still will probably bite you a few times first. Recreated Eclipse (Upright): Arrogant, possessive. The end goal of many a fanfic, actually able to get along as a functional member of society... mostly. Recreated Eclipse (Reversed): Feral, desperate. Clinging onto what fragments he has in a life he didn't ask for, and hating every second of it.

Idk if that was useful but there you go!!!

[justastraymoa]

Yet Unnamed

Chapter 4

masterlist

Korean is in italics

Warnings for Yet Unnamed: Kidnapping, cuffs, injuries, drugging by injection, mentions of needles, lots of swearing, kissing, fluff, angst, idiots in love all around.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl. Pics off pinterest.

************************************************************************

"I gave you the night. It's time to go public with her." JYP stated.

"You go public, and you will destroy yourself and Stray Kids, dumbass." You snapped. You had literally just established this with the others and were not feeling generous enough to have it again.

"Whether you like it or not you are contracted to JYPE. Best get over it."

"You drugged me and had me sign the contract! I do not have anything to do with JYPE!"

"Think again, honey. You signed the same contract Stray Kids signed. You are legally ours."

You gag at the pet name coming from that man's mouth.

"It won't stick. I'll tell them I was drugged. There is enough physical evidence on me to be believed." You pointed out.

JYP smirked. "You tell them that and you will be single handedly responsible for the downfall of Stray Kids. You willing to do that?"

You purse your lips and glare at him. He had you cornered, and he damn well knew it. He knew what he was doing from the very beginning. But what was his plan to get around the media finding out anyways? Or did he think he was so powerful he could make it all dissapear?

"No." Chan said firmly.

"What do you mean no? I assure you; it very much will end you. If not by media, then by me." JYP threatened.

"I don't care. You will not blackmail Y/n."

You blinked, shocked by this turn and his declaration. Looking around, it seemed like everyone was in agreement with him too.

"You would give all this up. For her?" JYP asked in disbalief.

Hyunjin stepped forward. "You underestimate our soul bond. You have done enough to her. No more."

JYP was stunned into silence. There was no way he saw this coming. You didn't even see this coming! You only just met them, yet they are willing to give up everything for you.

This whole fucking ordeal is absolutely insane. From the very beginning. What even was your life right now? This was a lose-lose situation. Either you get blackmailed into working as JYPs slave and risk the media finding out. Or Stray Kids stands against JYP for you. Either way Stray Kids are done for. Unless somehow the media never finds out the truth.

There had to be a way to head the media off at the pass. You have a degree in business with a specialty in social media and production. If anyone could do it, it was someone like you.

You gasped. You had an idea. "Let's renegotiate the contract JYP." You crossed your arms and half smirked, a plan forming that would benefit all involved.

Lee Know placed a hand on your arm. "You don't need to do that, Y/n. We have your back." He hummed quietly.

You laced your fingers with his. "I appreciate it so much. However, I think I can fix all our problems."

"And how are you going to do that?" JYP challenged.

"You really should have paid more attention to my profile when you hunted me down. I am a social media expert. Given time and the right resources, I can manipulate the facts in our favor."

"What does that mean?" Chan asked.

You smiled, giddy. You couldn't believe you were actually going to do this. "It means, if JYP will meet my terms, I won't have to hide."

"We can show you off?" Felix asked, hope overflowing his entire body.

"What do you say JYP? Tear up that sham of a contract you drugged me into signing and work with me on a new one?"

~

An hour and a half later you were wearing a pair of Hans jeans with a belt and a sweatshirt from I.N. You and Chan sat at a table in a conference room of JYPE way too similar to the room you woke up in just the day before. You eyed the couch warily as you settled in across from JYP and his big shot legal guy.

Chan would be able to help you negotiate a good contract and navigate all the tricky wording. He was a pro at this by now. Or well, better than you were at least.

It took 7 hours of going back and forth. You were not budging on your demands. You weren’t asking for anything outrageous. After what JYP did, he could bend a little for your requests. It was literally the bare fucking minimum.

The craziest thing you were asking for was to be solely in charge of all Stray Kids social media. Both solo accounts and group accounts. Even what went on JYPE pages. And every aspect that went into the posts or on any type of media.

This was part of your plan to head off anyone finding out your origin story. Plus, it gave you a job and a place here, so you weren’t just dead weight getting in people’s way or mooching off everyone. It was also the main demand that JYP was against. He didn’t want to give up that power. You weren’t going to let him keep it. It was now a game of who was going to give in first. And you were one stubborn son of a bitch.

Your heart also hadn’t stopped racing since negotiation began. Chan gripped your cold hand the entire time, not saying a word when adrenaline made your hands sweaty and start to shake. That was the only outward indication of your panic. With tremendous effort you kept your voice steady and firm the entire day.

The other members trickled in one by one as they finished up with their days, starting with Seungmin. They were interested in what was going on and even put in their own opinions at times. But mostly they made themselves comfortable and were just happy to be nearby.

In the end, JYP caved, and we reached an agreement. A terrifying, binding, agreement that was bigger than anything I ever thought I would be a part of in this lifetime.

As such you were now officially the ninth member of the Stray Kids soul group.

“I cannot believe I did this.” You whispered when JYP and his mucky much left with their copy of the new contract, your copy under the fingers of the hand Chan was not holding.

“Do you have regrets?” Chan asked quietly. There was excited chatter around the room from the others now that it was official, and you were able to go with them and not have to be hidden or blackmailed.

You pulled Chan’s hand into your lap and drew your knees up to curl around it. “More freaking out. I have never done something this huge. Or stood up to someone so huge either. I’m not sure what came over me.”

He squeezed your hand where they were both now hidden. “You did fucking amazing. And we have your back.”

Lee Know sidled up to your other side and rested his forehead on your shoulder. “Thank you. For fighting.” He whispered.

In the chaos that followed you had forgotten what happened this morning. You were so happy you wouldn’t be the cause of anyone’s pain. Lee Know snapping this morning absolutely broke your heart.

You reached up to scratch his scalp. “That’s not something you should be thanking me for.” Even though it was for the right reasons, even talking about separating and keeping me hidden caused your soulmates pain. You had caused them pain.

~

Back at the apartment the things you had requested the personal shopper get you had been delivered. And that brought up another issue that needed to be addressed.

“I am not going to permanently steal your room, Chan. I can set up a roll out in the living room and borrow some drawers.” You gesture towards the living room as you talk. Though you were sure eventually you would be close enough to all of them that you could sleep in whoever’s bed for a night or two and they wouldn’t care.

But Chan was already shaking his head before you even finished. “No. The arrangement we have works great. No way are you sleeping on a roll out.”

“Stay in the room you are in. We are all always sleeping in each other’s beds anyways, but you are the only girl. You should have your own space and your own bathroom.” Hyunjin pointed out.

Oh fuck. You were surrounded by 8 men. You are so fucked. The number of farts you were going to have to put up with on a daily basis alone was staggering!

“You know what. I’m exhausted from looking and talking with JYPs ugly ass all day, so I don’t care. I want cuddles. Who is going to cuddle me?” You asked. If you were going to do this whole soul bond thing, you were not about to do it half assed or slowly. That sounded exhausting. You’re all in. And that means your needy ass wants cuddles.

You spin on your heel and go to the living room, grabbing every pillow and blanket you could see, you piled it all up on the floor and turned on the TV.

Behind you a hushed argument was happening between the others.

“You two got to cuddle her last night!”

“Lee Know got time with her this morning after his temper tantrum.”

“Yah, fuck you!”

“Chan spent all day with her!”

"Negotiating her contract. That hardly counts!”

“You held her hand!”

“She was panicking!”

“What? She was?”

“She didn’t seem like it.”

“Trust me, she was.”

“Wow. I am impressed.”

“She did stand up to JYP.”

“You should have heard her yesterday. She looked him square in the eye, told him she didn’t like him, then called his bluff afterward!”

“Yeah, and she said she got those bruises because she broke out of her restraints. Twice.”

You sigh. They had gotten off track. “I’m awfully cold and lonely over here!” You call to them.

“Okay, okay. So, Innie, Seungmin, or Hyunjin. They are the only ones who haven’t gotten to spend a lot of time with her yet.”

“Take turns?”

“Youngest first.”

I.N finally joined you in the living room, looking awkward. You smiled gently at him from your nest of comfort.

“Do I…Do I just grab you?” He asked.

You tried not to laugh at him. He was very cute. Very unsure. “Do you want to cuddle. I won’t take offense.” You had to be sure he wasn’t just doing it because you had asked for cuddles.

His face screwed up a bit. “I want to be close. Can I just use your belly as a pillow?”

You got more comfortable and patted your stomach in invitation, quietly hoping it wouldn’t make any weird sounds when I.N had his ear pressed up against it.

“J-Jinnie can cuddle you.” He hesitated now for some reason.

You shake your head. “It’s your turn. C’mon, little bug.” You coax.

I.N blushed lightly and curled up next to you, gently laying his head on your stomach. Immediately you buried your fingers in his hair, twisting strands absently as you flipped through channels on the TV.

The others joined you a few seconds later, all finding their places around the room. Draping over chairs, couches, and each other.

Sometime later, from a cue you didn’t see or hear, I.N rolled off you and Hyunjin laid next to you, half his body on top of yours. One leg and one arm thrown over you and face in your neck. You giggle and squirm as his breath tickled down your skin.

“Mm, sorry. I just pushed through the awkward and went for it.” He explained. He shifted a bit closer, and his breath no longer tickled.

You wrapped both arms around his ribs tightly. “S’kay. I understand. Are you comfortable?”

Hyunjin hummed in affirmation. You gently traced shaped on his back with your fingertips. I.N still lay next to you, just no longer using your stomach as a pillow, instead he was using his own arm. You couldn’t see his face, but you were pretty sure he was at least half asleep. You fold one of the blankets you were laying on over his legs so he wouldn’t get chilled without our shared body heat.

Hyunjin was warm enough on his own to keep us both warm. He was playing on a phone absently as we relaxed. Everyone was quietly doing their own things, just enjoying the moment. Every once in a while, there were murmurs as they chatted or a video playing softly on their phones.

Then Hyunjin handed you the phone he had been on suddenly. “We all entered our number and socials for you already. And you are hooked to our shared calendar.” He told me in explanation.

You had honestly forgotten you were getting a phone. You had no idea what they did with the old one when they took you, you would need to cancel it anyway. Who knew if it would even work over here. And if it did what kind of massive charges it would incur.

Slowly, with one hand, you begin setting up your new phone to your preferences and logging into everything of yours.

“Hey look.” You said lifting the phone up and snapping a pic of you and Hyunjin as soon as he looked.

He watched as you set it as his contact photo. “I look awful.” He grumbled.

“You look cute and squishy.” You liked the photo. It was soft and authentic. No practiced or rehearsed looks or smiles. Just the two of you.

You would eventually get one of everyone, Hyunjin just happened to be right here and looking so photogenic.

“You are in charge of announcing yourself to the world now. Do you have a plan?” Chan asked.

If you were honest, not really. More half-baked ideas and a final goal. “That’s tomorrow’s issue. Today I need to book a plane ticket to my apartment.” Meaning you needed to go back and pack up, transfer everything to Korea, sell shit off, etc.

Hyunjins head popped up and several others moved towards me. “You’re leaving?” Felix asked.

“Did you think I would just leave everything behind?” You were confused about their reactions.

“But you’re coming back.” Hyunjin asked to confirm.

Oh! “Yes! I’m sorry, yes, I’m coming back. I just need to pack my things and tie up loose ends.” You assured them all. Reaching up you brushed away Hyunjins hair.

The room palpably relaxed. You needed to be more careful. It seems like they are a little attached to you right now. And you understood the feeling. If you could, you would stay with them, but there were things back at the apartment you couldn’t just abandon. Being apart would hurt, but it was necessary. And hopefully the last time you would need to be apart for a while.

“We can go with you.” Chan suggested.

You shook your read and pulled up the shared calendar on your new phone. The schedule for everyone was full to the brim for the following week and more. “You have things you have promised to be at.”

“We can cancel. We canceled several things yesterday and today.”

“And it’s starting to get suspicious. I need to stay hidden until I can get the plan in motion or none of this will work. And I don’t officially take over your socials and start enacting the plan for a little while yet while the things that are already in motion finish up.” You pulled Hyunjin back down to cuddle, he went easily enough.

“Why not take one or two of us then?” Han suggested. You knew none of them would mind joining you in the least.

“Are you worried about me, or are you worried I won’t come back?” You were sort of teasing them. You knew there would be a small part of them that would worry you would leave them for a long time yet. It was natural. Just like how you worried they wouldn’t like what you brought to the group, and they would ask you to leave.

You hit confirmation on your two-way ticket purchase. “I’ll be back in 2 weeks.” You told them before anyone could try and answer your teasing question.

“Two weeks!” Several voices nearly shouted.

You sighed. “Even though I was probably fired, I did have a job. I should at least try and give them a two week notice to find a replacement. Plus, I can’t pack up and sell my entire life in a day. Two weeks will be crazy enough!”

“Are you going to be anywhere near our fashion shows?” Felix asked. He and Hyunjin would be in New York to participate in several runway walks and appearances.

“It’s too far of a distance to drive and flying is just not feasible. You would get no rest and waste jet fuel in the process.”

Binnie pouted. “I don’t like it.”

Honestly, you didn’t either. You were hoping to get done sooner and dip a few days early, but you couldn’t be sure that would happen, so you didn’t even bring it up. Didn’t want to get their hopes up.

“When do you leave?” Chan asked sad but resigned.

“Early tomorrow afternoon.

“Move, Hyune. My turn.” Seungmin ordered. Instead of coming down to the floor with you, he pulled you onto the couch with him, settling you so you were laying on top of him, his thighs framing your hips and your head on his sternum. You relaxed into the embrace immediately. “Only have tonight, getting everything I can.” He grumbled.

Han scooted over and sat at my feet, placing a hand on my ankle and resting his head on my knee.

You open a new text, adding everyone and naming it ‘Nonet’ before sending a test text through and watching as one by one each member got the message and checked it. It’s not like they wouldn’t have a group chat eventually anyway. And you could keep in touch all day and night with this.

“Nonet. Good one.” Chan chuckled. You shrugged with a smirk at your own little joke.

“Texting won’t be enough! We just got you!” Binnie complained.

“We still have her, Bin. We ripped her from her life. Can’t just expect her to be able to start a new one right away and leave everything behind.” Lee Know explained from the other couch.

You opened your camera to get a profile picture of Seungmin, only to snap one of him making an ugly face at the camera. You snort and set it as his contact photo. “Just wait. I’ll post that on insta.” You threatened lightly.

“Nah, you won’t.”

“STAY would love it. Meme the shit out of it. You would never live it down.”

“It’s going to be interesting having you control our socials now. You think like STAY.” Lee Know mused. You wondered if he meant that as a good thing or a bad thing.

“I am STAY.” You point out.

“Not anymore. Now you’re one of us.”

That was vaguely creepy. “I’ll always be STAY.” I argued. It’s not like I just wasn’t a fan anymore just because I was in this soul group.

“No, he’s right, y/n. You will have your own fanbase now. You will need official socials and everything.” Chan said.

You very much doubted you would have fans. You would have a hate club. Everyone has haters, obviously, but as the only female in Stray Kids soul bond there would be a lot of judgement.

“I don’t think I’ll have any socials. I’ll delete them soon. Bett for my future mental health.”

Seungmin poked my cheek. “A social media expert with no social media?”

Admittedly it was weird. But you wouldn’t have time for your own socials anyways if you were going to manage the boys. It would be around the clock thing with them. Random posts, scheduled posts, bubble, lives, comments. You wouldn’t miss your own much. The itch would be scratched.

The boys were supposed to leave early in the morning. Much earlier than you planned to wake up. As such, you made sure to say your goodbyes before you went to bed for the evening. You packed a small carry-on backpack for your flight and put the rest of the things the personal shopper brought you away in your new room. When you get back from your trip, you could start personalizing the room a little maybe. Make it feel more yours and not a guest room.

♤♤♤♤♤♤

A/n my tumblr is driving me nuts and not saving and posting without permission so apologies

Yet Unnamed Taglist: @fackeraccount @velvetmoonlght @hyunjinstolemyheart @vampkittenb82 @happy-jj @estella-novella @demigoddreamon-blog @tiana-maxivar @ms-flowergirl @jennibahng @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @mimimiloomeelomi @simpforskz143148 @xxeiraxx @lil-bear08 @brbwritingfanfic @jisungs-iced-americano @zofia515

General Taglist @stellasays45 @beebee18 @weird-bookworm @velvetmoonlght

[thegreatimpersonator]

Heeey, if u dont wanna answer this that's fine! But just wondering what's Travis done? (Im not a fan or anything lol, legit curious). Now that i think about it, i think he's irl friends (like, outside of work) with that mahommes guy whose brother... well, trigerring topic but ye his brother's a piece of shit and that guy's wife im pretty sure defended the brother + is a trumpie💀. But i dont follow them/usamerican football so ive just heard about these things casually. I think there were also some weird tweets from years back? Guess i answered my own question lol. Wild the kcc also have that "women should stay home" at a uni graduation speech guy...

welcome to the materpost.

im making this so i can always have something to refer back to when people ask, and this isnt gonna include personal opinions as facts (like how i just find him very attention-seeking and annoying, that's just personal opinion) but it will cover all the main terrible things he's done as well as the bad stuff people he (and now taylor) voluntarily choose to associate with.

don't know where to begin so i'll just start from where i remember

people found his old tweets where he was ableist (making fun of autism and saying the r slur), fatphobic towards women, misogynistic and homophobic.

him along with the chiefs decided to visit trump at the white house in 2020, after many teams declined bc they didnt want to publicly associate with a fascist, but travis was down!

he then also got caught liking an instagram post about trump

he has said recently he would be going to visit trump again in the white house if they win the superbowl. fan behavior.

he also made a r*pe joke, (first part in the clip) he was asked what word turned him on and he said when women say 'no' and then laughed and he was "kidding".

in the second part of that same clip in the previous bullet point, he's also xenophobic! on a podcast he said "if you dont speak english, then what are you doing here (in america)" and then proceeded to laugh when the host says he tells them the wrong directions on purpose.

he has a history of violent temper tantrums, and no him being a football player isnt an excuse. men using violence to get through their emotions isnt something to be normalized. he has had multiple instances of extreme aggression, including a screaming match with his couch at last years Superbowl, screamed at a ref and threw his helmet, also punching his own teammate during practice, and punching opposing players during games.

he defended his teammate, harrison butker (who was the guy who gave the viral problematic commencement speech, saying "women should be most excited about their marriage and the children they will bring into this world" and "things like abortion, IVF, surrogacy, euthanasia, as well as a growing support for degenerate cultural values and media all stem from pervasiveness of disorder,” and called Pride Month “the deadly sin sort of pride,” and specifically criticized the LGBTQ community, which he claimed promotes “dangerous gender ideologies.").... anyway travis defended THAT guy, saying he cherishes him as a teammate and said "he is every bit of a great person and a great teammate." and said harrison treats everyone with "nothing but respect and kindness, we’re not always going to agree … but I understand the person that he is and he’s trying to do whatever he can to lead people in the right direction." Travis then said 'everyone has different opinions and that's what's great about this country'. he flat out said hating gay people and women are what make this country great.  

travis is also besties with the mahomes, now lets talk about him and taylors new besties they voluntarily love spending time with.

the main issue isnt really patrick mahomes (another player on the chiefs), it's brittany (his wife) and jackson (his brother)

jackson sexually assaulted a woman at a restaurant by grabbing her and forcibly kissing her. she reported the assault and he reportedly tried to bribe her into shutting up, but then she faced such harassment from his fans that the restaurant shut down and the case was dismissed despite video evidence of it happening.

brittany defended jackson and became a vocal assault apologist by saying "he is a human just trying to live his life and find his way and until you walk a day in his shoes (which no one ever will) you have no right to say shit about him".

last summer, brittany got called out for liking a post by trump where he outlined his plans for being president in 2025, including starting the largest deportation operation in history, zionist propaganda, and transphobic rhetoric about not wanting trans women in women's sports. she then defended it and doubled down vocalizing her supprt for trump.

brittany being transphobic about not wanting trans women in women's sports is deeply concerning due to the fact she is the co-owner of Kansas City Current, a team in the American professional top-division National Women's Soccer League.

[grossitsluca]

queen. i loved the johnny & parcel girl fic so much. may we know if she did end up giving him wee bairns 🥺

thank you queen! i was looking for a reason to keep writing for this one 😭

pt2 to this

The sound of the front door being shut felt like being tossed a buoy while drowning in the sea. You closed your eyes in relief as you stood up from the carpeted floor, back aching and knees cracking.

“Johnny! You back?” It had been a long day of you watching the kids while your husband was at work and you now wanted nothing more than to put your feet up and just relax. Your youngest girl wasn’t old enough to go to nursery, and the thought of separating her from her older sister seemed unfair. Besides, you were on maternity leave now, and there was something so rewarding about looking after them both as they played and grew.

“Johnny?” You yawned, as you bent over to pick up the youngest, the other one content to play with her light up toys on the floor. “Are you back yet?” There was no reply. Usually he comes in shouting about how he much he “missed his three lassies” but today, there was no noise. A slight shiver ran up your spine. What if that wasn’t your husband? The feeling of nausea crept its way into your stomach, your throat closing up as you slowed down your breathing.

You whispered to your other girl, to stand up, slowly and quietly, telling her not to make a sound, there’s a new game you’re playing about who can be quietest the most. Keeping your eyes on the door, you usher for her to go sit behind the sofa in the room. But then the door starts to open, ever so slightly, and you freeze. Your grip on your baby tightens and your hand on your toddler becomes firmer. The door continues to move, the creaking sound growing louder and louder, more and more light flooding into the room, until the door suddenly widens, a sharp sound of fear leaving your mouth. And you see him.

“John MacTavish, I hate you.” And the sound of his cackling fills the room. He spends the next minute or so, laughing at himself, doubling over and even holding onto the door frame for support in his laughing fit.

“Sorry, lass, am sorry, didnae mean to scare you so.” He says after he calms down, even though you can tell from the smirk on his face that he absolutely did mean to scare you like this. Here you were, tired and now scared shitless and he still thinks he’s funny. Well, two could play at that game. You leave him in the doorway, still feeling smug and just simply walk past him, into the kitchen.

Half an hour goes by and Johnny has started to realise that you’re serious, probably due to the fact that you plated everyone else’s dinner but his. It’s not like you didn’t let him eat, just that you let him do it himself for once. Another half an hour and Johnny has began to panic. He wouldn’t have pulled such a stupid joke if he knew you’d be giving him the silent treatment.

Two hours later and you’ve settled both the kids in for bed in their room, adjusting the baby monitor, just to be sure. You walk past Johnny, not sparing him a second glance as you head towards the bathroom. A twenty minute shower later and another ten minutes spent on your skincare, you decide it’s time to head back to your bedroom. You could have been back earlier, but you purposely dragged it out to teach Johnny a lesson.

You turn off the hallway lights before opening the door to yours and Johnny’s bedroom, only to be met with the sight of Johnny kneeling on the floor, blocking your way in.

“Excuse me.” You say pointedly, and try to shift that mountain of a man with your leg. Obviously, you failed. But that’s when he starts.

“Am so sorry lass, wasnae thinking, shouldn’t have done tha’ to you. Wasnae thinking about my beautiful wife who spends her day looking after our family. Won’t do it again, ah swear.” The worst part is he actually sounds sincere, because for you, the look on his face as he watches you walk by him without any acknowledgment was rather fun. He looked scared shitless when he understood the gravity of the situation, which you have to admit make you laugh inside. But if he actually means this apology, then you have no choice to forgive him. Shame.

“Johnny get up.” His face lights up once he hears you call his nickname, and he knows he’s in the clear now, which he celebrates by immediately pouncing on your lips, murmuring about he’s been thinking of kissing you all day. To be honest, so have you, but you don’t tell him that.

“You know, if you hadn’t apologised, you would have slept on the couch.” And that scared look on his face returns.

[trulyradicalactivist]

There is a certain beauty in identity.

A very long speech. Some may not have the patience to read all of this, though I ask you try, but if you can't. All I ask is for you to find the very last paragraph and just read that. Just that, if you can't read everything else. If you can read it all, I thank you, this took me a while. All of you have a wonderful day.

It’s in the way we carry ourselves, in the way we fight, in the way we love, woven together like threads in an endless tapestry. Each thread, vibrant and unique, tells a tale of courage, self-discovery, and resilience. From your name, to your age, to your gender, to your race. Given to you from your birth, given to you by accident, given to you by choice, given by god, maybe given by the earth. However you obtained your identity, it is crafted to fit you. Every inch of you.

To every person who wakes up each day determined to live authentically: You are a masterpiece in motion. Your identity, no matter how it unfolds, is a beacon of light in a world that finds itself judging too quickly without much understanding of who you are and why you do. To every person who wakes up and tells themselves that they will not be silenced, that they will love and be loved, that will be kind and be given kindness tenfold: You prove yourself to have a heart of gold, one unmeltable by the society that we live in and the people who are cruel inside of it. To every person who wakes up and is ready to fight, bite and scratch with every bone in their body, prepared to use their tongue like a sword and their body like a shield: You are a warrior, powerful and strong, a wall that no one can climb over or knock down, one that will hold steady to protect those you love. To the people who cannot do a thing but try anyways, whether it be through social media or through simply knowing who you are: I love you, I promise we all do, and you have done your best, take a break, and breathe knowing we are there fighting for you.

There is beauty in knowing, in speaking, in making your own life. There is beauty in a denial slowly absolved, finding peace, finding love, finding community. There is a beauty in discovery, learning, asking, questioning. Whether you know who you are, whether you're not quite sure, or whether you've just begun to think, you are beautiful. Your mind is a machine, every decision a calculation, and every discovery a new lesson to be learned. Your heart is a music box, every emotion a song and every break a new melody. Let them work together to craft what you will be.

To those who cannot see a brighter future, to those who find themselves in holes where they can't climb out, to those who think that the rest of their lives will be in hiding, listen to me. You will not hide. There is a world where you do not have to be afraid. Where it isn't shameful to exist as you are. Where you are loved. Where those who hurt you will back down, knowing their own bigotry. Fight. Fight for them, fight for me, fight for you. Do not let yourself give into what they want you to. Do not let yourself see nothing but pain, the light at the end of the tunnel is not the light of a train, headed towards you at a speed you cannot understand, it is not the light of death, it is not the red and blue lights leading you to a cell for the crime of being alive. Believe me when I say it is the light of the sun as we enter the world and demand we be heard. You will be heard. There is no darkness where we go.

May we all strive to create a world where every identity is celebrated, a world where labels are tools of empowerment, not chains of limitation. May we embrace one another with open hearts and minds, recognizing that every person’s truth enriches the collective human experience. How many people in the past have not had the words to explain their experience? How many have had to live with a dysphoria they could not explain? How many hearts break every time someone calls them something they are not? Could we allow it to continue, when we could take their pain and let them speak through our voices?

Look at all we've done and where we've come. Look at who we've lost and who we've gained. Look at everyone who knows you are not a danger, you are not horrible, you are not foul, you are not deserving of pain, you are not meant to be hidden away. Look at what we could become. Look at what you have found.

You have found beauty. There is so much of it. Spilling out of every corner. Look at every flag we wave, every identity we share, every discussion we have, every place we've made. Do you not see the sparkle, like a diamond, in everything you've learned about? Do you not know how much light is brought by what we cherish most?

You bring so much beauty to this world too, you know? You. You, who's reading this now. I'm talking to you. You bring so much to this community. You bring so much to society. Please survive for me. If you do nothing else, if you don't fight, if you don't educate, if you can't do a thing, if there's too much. I only ask you to survive. That would be enough.

Everything we have right now, is so beautiful.

[hyuniemyunie]

holding bruce while he cries ☆ミ

and then making him cum oops.

sub bruce wayne x gn dom reader

nsfw

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(ФωФ): big man in your lap, dry humping, clothed..stuff, bruce cumming in his pants, bruce crying!!!

lawd help this is kinda long😭😭 i write for everything mentioned in my pinned list, so dont be surprised if i post for a lot of characters/fandoms<3 if u saw any typos..no u didnt..

(I'll get to yalls requests soon after im done with exams!<3)

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

the Batcave was silent except for the soft hum of the machinery and the occasional beep of the monitors. Bruce sat in front of the computer, his back hunched, eyes bloodshot from hours of working, but he wasn’t focused on the screen. His mind raced with the weight of his responsibilities, the guilt, the constant need to protect Gotham that never seemed to let up. The mask he wore as Batman was always on, even in moments of exhaustion.

You had been quietly watching him from the shadows for a while, your heart aching for him. You could see the strain on his face, the toll his double life had taken on him. He was never the one to ask for help, to let someone in. But you could tell he needed it, needed to be held.

Without a word, you approached him, your steps soft and measured. You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, feeling the tense muscles under his suit. “Bruce,” you whispered, your voice warm and full of concern. “You’ve been at this for too long. You need to rest.”

He didn’t respond, his jaw clenched as if holding back the flood of emotions threatening to spill over. The weight of everything—Alfred’s death, the countless battles, the endless loss—was suffocating him, and he didn’t know how to let go of it. He wasn’t used to showing weakness, not even in front of you.

You gently knelt in front of him, your hand softly cupping his face, urging him to look at you. “Bruce, it’s okay,” you murmured, your voice tender, full of love, something bruce wasn't used to. “You don’t have to carry all of this by yourself.”

For a moment, Bruce’s eyes flickered, and his chest tightened. He wanted to say something, to deny the raw ache in his heart, but the words got stuck in his throat. The walls he had built around himself started to crack, the dam he had carefully constructed to keep his emotions in check beginning to crumble.

Your thumb brushed over his cheek, a soothing gesture, and that was all it took. His shoulders shook as he let out a ragged breath, and before he could stop himself, tears welled up in his eyes. The dam had broken, and he couldn’t hold it in any longer, he trusted you enough to cry in front of you.

He buried his face in your hands, the flood of emotions too much to contain. “I can’t… I can’t do this anymore,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, raw with pain. “I’m so tired, I’ve lost too much.”

Without a second thought, you pulled him into your arms, your embrace warm and comforting “Shh,” you whispered, gently rocking him back and forth. "You’re not alone. I’m here, always.”

He leaned fully against your body, letting you hold most of his weight as the weeks, months, years of pent-up emotions poured out of him. The words of comfort were like daggers to his weary heart. He'd never been on the receiving end of that kind of affection. He'd gone so long without it. He craved it far more than he'd realised.

Bruce clung to you, his hands gripping you tightly as if you were the only thing holding him together. He wasn’t Batman in this moment. He wasn’t the stoic, unshakable Bruce Wayne. He was just a man, broken and exhausted, seeking solace in your arms. The tears came harder now, and he let them fall, not bothering to hide his vulnerability anymore.

You stroked his hair, your touch soft and calming. “It’s okay to cry,” you whispered. “You’ve been through so much, and you’re so, so strong.”

He shook his head against your shoulder, the weight of his grief too much to bear. “I should’ve done more,” he whispered. “I should’ve saved them. I should’ve been stronger.”

“No,” you said firmly, your voice soft but resolute. “You did everything you could. You can’t save everyone, Bruce. But you’ve done more for Gotham than anyone ever could. And I’m so proud of you.”

The words were like a balm to his raw soul, soothing the pain and quieting the thoughts screaming in his head — the ones telling him to pull away, to get a hold of himself, to stop acting like a child, to stop needing things. Still, he didn't speak. Instead, Bruce squeezed you tighter, burying his face in the crook of your neck and simply letting himself cry.

your words, full of warmth and reassurance, wrapped around him like a blanket, soothing the pain he had carried for so long. He pulled back slightly, his tear-streaked face searching you eyes, looking for something, anything.

You cupped his face gently, your thumb brushing away the tears. “You’re my sweet boy,” you murmured, your voice filled with so much love. “You’ve done enough. You’ve given everything. And now, you deserve to rest, okay?"

Bruce let out a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed as he allowed himself to finally relax into your embrace. For the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn’t the Dark Knight. He wasn’t the protector of Gotham. He was just Bruce, a man in need of comfort, and you were there to give it.

your arms wrapped around him again, holding him close, your body warmth radiating through him like a beacon. “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. He whimpered at the kiss, shuddering as the simple action sent a pleasant tingle through his body. His eyes were still shut tight, unable to bring himself to look at you.

In the back of his mind, Bruce was mortified by his behaviour. Sure, he wasn't exactly crying in public, but he'd never had this kind of breakdown before either. He couldn't help the little flicker of embarrassment that rose in him.

"just stay here, with me."

He nodded, pressing himself closer to you, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck in a bid to get as close as possible. He could just stay like this, he thought. He'd stay here forever, if you let him. Bruce sniffled slightly, trying and failing to keep the little whimpers of distress from escaping. He was a grown man, goddamnit, crying like a child in the arms of a pretty person. after a moment, you finally spoke, looking down at his hunched figure "you okay baby?"

He stayed silent for a moment, his face half buried in your hair. The sobs had stopped, leaving him with a raw feeling in his throat. He opened his mouth, letting out a hoarse and unstead-sounding 'yeah'. The urge to look at you welled in his chest, and he finally raised his head. His eyes stung, and he could only imagine the absolutely pathetic expression he must have.

yet you just looked at him..lovingly, as if he was actually worth caring for.

He was immediately struck by the expression on your face. No mockery, no disgust, no pity. Just a fondness in your eyes that Bruce hadn't ever seen directed at him. nothing genuine, anyway.

His chest ached, both in a good and bad way. Bruce blinked, leaning into you.

"I.." He started, voice hoarse, not being able to finish. he muttered a curse under his breath, frustrated by his inability to get past the lump in his throat.

"shut up, pretty boy, just let me cuddle you" you said with a little grin, a teasing glint in your eyes as you softly pinched his cheek Another huff slipped from his lips, but he couldn't help the reluctant half-smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth at your words. He still didn't lift his eyes to meet yours, the shame of his previous breakdown still too fresh inside him.

"You're not going to let this go.." he mumbled, shifting his body slightly. He wasn't technically in your lap, but you were still holding most of his weight.

"come on, relax, it's just us two, no one else.." you said with a shrug

This time, the almost-smile on his face turned into a full-fledged one. He lifted his gaze once more, looking to you for probably the first time in years without a sense of anger or caution.

"Just us two," he repeated, the foreign feeling of ease filling his chest. He took a breath, before adding; "Not Batman, yeah."

"you know, I've been wanting to do a thing for a while.."

before he could even process your sentence, you sat down on his chair, and grabbed him by the hips, pulling him down towards you. He let out a slightly strangled noise as he suddenly found himself in your lap.

"What are you-," he started, but you'd gotten the exact reaction you wanted from him. In his current position, his knees were on either side of your legs, and he was essentially straddling you. his body was..a bit too big to properly fit on your lap, and his weight was giving you a bit of a struggle. but some sacrifices must be made to have a beefy man in your lap, yeah?

"comfy?"you said, your voice smug as hell, too smug for his liking.

He spluttered, a blush staining his cheeks. He was, admittedly, comfy. He'd never sat on someone's lap like this before, so he wasn't entirely sure what to do with himself, and he could clearly see his body's... reaction to this new development. yes, he was hard. He looked away, trying to hide his blush and hoping you wouldn't notice the bulge pressing against your leg. "You're too much," he muttered gruffly.

and to his horror, you looked down and noticed exactly what you shouldn't have, his raging boner. god, this was embarrassing. He flinched, the stare making his blush deepen even more. He didn't mean for you to see quite what his body was doing, but it seemed he didn't have much choice in control at the moment.

".... I can't help it," he muttered defensively, still refusing to look at you.

you huffed out a laugh, arching a brow as you looked at him with the most amused expression you could.

"you got hard over..sitting on my lap?"

He muttered something under his breath, something that sounded like 'I'm a man, aren't I?'. He shifted again, trying to move slightly away from you, but your hands kept him firmly in place. He still refused to look at you, or even in your direction. "It's... been a while," he admitted with a frustrated huff of breath. well, yeah, it has been. no sex, no touching himself. if he didn't need to pee, he'd forget he even has a dick. so of course he's..sensitive.

you only looked up at him with a smug expression that made his blood boil, that damn smirk-

but then, you just..rolled your hips up like it was nothing. He let out a strangled 'ngh' at the friction he got from that, and his hands scrambled to balance himself by grabbing your shoulders.

Bruce shot you an irritated look — more for the fact that you seemed to be enjoying this than the action itself. "Stop that," he huffed, but his voice held a desperate whine. He swallowed thickly, the situation becoming even more uncomfortable by the second. the more you kept moving, the more uncomfortable he became.

you felt good against him. Really good.

He gripped your tighter, the redness of his face spreading down further. "You're a nuisance." he muttered, but the words had no bite behind them.

"Am i? you seem to be enjoying this a lot, bruce, I'm not even doing anything."

He bit the inside of his lip, letting out a shuddering gasp. His fingers dug harder into your shoulders, struggling to keep up his already flimsy balance. Bruce let out a whimper, unable to do much but let you have your way. He wanted — no, needed — more friction than what he was getting, but he had no idea what to do.

He took in a shuddering breath, a whine slipping past his lips. He shifted in your lap, trying to find a better position. He let out another gasp as your jeans pressed right against him, his hands clenching even tighter.

He couldn't look at you, could only focus on the friction as slowly, hesitantly, he found a rhythm to thrust against you, his dick rubbing painfully against the fabric of his suit.

"God," he choked out, his breathing ragged.

"you're acting like a virgin, bruce" you rolled your hips up to meet his grinding, earning a hitched moan from him, making him bite his lower lip, hard. "gonna cum in your pants too?"

He whimpered at your words, shuddering at the heat rushing through his body. He already felt like he was on the verge of coming, and they'd barely done anything. He'd spent so long without being touched by anyone, that the smallest thing was sending him over the edge. he was just so, so sensitive.

"Stop... talking," he panted, his breath hitching with every movement. "I won't... finish in my pants." He tried to sound as confident as possible, but he didn't really convince himself. he was absolutely gonna finish in his pants.

He groaned, the heat from his blush making him feel like he was burning up. He was already so close, and he'd hardly done anything. If your words weren't enough to push him over the edge, the mental image of what he must look like certainly would.

"Nn... please," he mumbled, the word turning into a whine at the end. He was barely holding on as it was.

"please, what? you need to tell me and use your big boy words, bruce"

he whined, letting his head drop to the crook of your neck as he spoke, voice barely above a whisper

"wanna cum.."

you chuckled, your hands going to rest on the firm muscles of his ass, giving them a squeeze "thats a good boy."

He practically let out a sob at your words, the combination of everything finally getting too much. He buried his face deeper into the crook of your neck, desperate to muffle his moans into something, anything to stop him from giving everything away. In that moment, Bruce Wayne, the billionaire and famous vigilante, was a shaking, whining mess, trying his hardest not to cum in his pants like a fucking virgin

you got tired of all his panting and whining, deciding to finally make him cum. you grabbed his hair, pulling back hard, his response to that was immediate. A strangled cry escaped him, his fingers clinging to you as his body tensed, shuddering harshly as he came in his pants, wetting the front of it

Bruce slumped against you, breathing heavy and shaking. Humiliation crashed down over him like a bucket of icy water.

Even as he came down slowly from the high, the heat in his cheeks reignited. He lifted his head, looking down at his pants, then quickly looked away. He couldn't bring himself to look at it — how embarrassing. The wet patch on the front of his pants only made him feel more embarrassment, and he let out a low whine, burying his head back into your neck, damn his size, he couldn't even hide himself.

"none of that, look at the mess you made, bruce." you grabbed his hair, pulling his head back and forcing him to look at the mess he made

He let out another low whimper when you pulled his hair, so he had no choice but to pull his head back. He hesitantly looked down at his pants again, the damp patch on the front an obvious sign of what had just happened.

Bruce's breath hitched in his chest, and his fingers curled into your clothes again. "... I'm a mess.." he mumbled, his voice a whisper.

[romana-after-dark]

Our Gentle Sins: Part 15: Jeannie

Thank you so so so much to @plasticbabies for making this beautiful header!!!! we finally have a good one!

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

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Chapter summary: Past. Jean's POV Present. Jean is over them all.

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religious trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

EXTRA WARNING: Male manipulator incel Logan

2k words

His mind was somewhere else.

“Scott, baby.” Jean tried to get him to come back to her. Lingerie, hair done up, waiting for Scott on her knees in the bedroom… and it worked. At least for a little bit.

But even as she ground herself over his growing bulge, she could tell he was somewhere else in his head. His cock stiffened and softened at the same time as he’d begin looking over her shoulder or his mouth stopped moving and she’d have to call him back to reality. 

It was her fault. No, Jean, not her fault. Jean had to remind herself that just because Logan and Scott were playing out their latest pissing match with you instead of her this time, it wasn’t your fault. You were just a girl that needed help. Logan and you seemed happy, whatever the state of your relationship was… but she couldn’t help missing that attention Logan gave. Logan was a single focus man, and when that focus was on you, it was all consuming.

 Before you entered the picture, even then Scott could be distant. That wasn’t his fault either, she tried to remind herself. He had OCD and worries left him spiraling. It wouldn’t be so bad if he just let her help him. She just wanted to help him. Instead, he internalized it, isolated himself and disappeared sometimes, leaving Jean worried and only knowing he hasn’t hurt himself from their telepathic connection.

She tries, she really tried to be empathetic to him and to you.

But when her husband can’t even get hard because his thoughts are with someone else, it’s kind of hard to not be angry.

Still, Jean was nothing if not able to tamper down that dark side, the anger that she felt simmering just below the surface. Usually, she could channel it into something good, something productive… but Jean didn’t want to be good.

She sighed, signalling her giving up with a drop of her head that encased Scott in red. “Get some rest, Scott. I think you need sleep.” He doesn’t sleep much these days, nor eat. His already slim figure is looking underweight with his cheekbones gaunt and the darkness peaking out under her visor. He’s not himself, and she doesn’t know what to do.

He reaches over to cup her face. “Sorry baby…” And he does look apologetic, despite the exhaustion in his voice. He carried to much on his shoulders, but it’s not like she hasn’t tried to lighten the load. “You look really fucking hot, I just…” Scott didn’t like talking about his mental issues, which was a major chunk of the problem. Until he lets her in, there’d always be a gap between them. A gap she used to fill with Logan, but now is just a hollow point inside her; an emptiness threatening to swollow her whole and break them apart. She loved Scott, but loving him meant always feeling a little alone, even on the good days. 

“Rest.” Jean smiled softly. “I’ll stay here with you.” A lie, but if Scott caught on, she didn’t say. When he was asleep, she snuck out to find Logan.

*

How did she sink so low she was begging to get fucked? She just wanted someone to love her, to pay attention, she felt like she was drowning and needed to not feel so alone. Why wouldn’t Logan give it to her? Why couldn’t Scott? What had changed that she was no longer worthy of being loved?

Logan was good at that, at making her feel loved and desired when he wanted to. When he didn’t want to, he could pull it away just as quickly. It was embarrassing; humiliating even though the only person who knew was him. No one else could tell how subtly he wormed his way into her head, they all thought she had the control. She did, for a while anyway. Being chased, being hunted and stalked like prey was enticing especially on days Scott wouldn’t even look at her.

However once Logan knew the power he had, once her built her up himself he had control over her self esteem. And he knew how to wield that. She was a fool to offer it up to him again willingly, but here she was.

“He doesn’t pay attention to me.” The embarrassing admittance that she wasn’t enough for her own husband, but she laid herself bare to Logan in a way she couldn’t with Scott, not with his barriers.

“And you think I will?”

“You always did before.” She didn’t care if he was dangerous, a little unhinged. She just needed to feel.

“That was before her.”

Before her. Before his little child bride.

 Logically, she knew better than to be mad at a 24 year old for catching Logan’s eye. She couldn’t even blame Logan; she liked you. You were kind, that's what everyone said about you (either before or after calling you weird, generally), but you were also a very capable teacher, taking on several grades, sometimes at once, and giving your all. You’d made an impact on many students, and you were incredibly smart; your brain had been wasted on the abusive prick you’d killed. 

Jean knew she should be better than this, more evolved, beyond the mean girl nature of how she was acting but she was so desperate to fill that gap caving inside her she let the cruelty slide out more when he finally fucked her.

“Does your baby doll do it like this?”

A mistake, she knew. His fist tightened around her neck, and her nervous system kicked in. Logan was a dangerous man to play around with. Still, he wouldn’t hurt her. Not really, right? Just fuck with her mind again and again until she lost all sense of herself.

“No, but my baby doll can give me what you can’t.”

She had to laugh at that, the idea of Logan wanting to settle down. “What, you want to settle down, have a family, live a normal life?” 

“So what if I do, Jeannie?”

A blink. A breath. She knew what she was offering was a risk, but she wasn’t thinking clearly. Whatever it took to be loved. She disappointed her parents at an early age, never hearing from them again. She always felt she scared Charles, her darkness too great. Erik disapproved of her hiding that darkness. She wasn’t enough to fix Scott, to make him let her in, to truly be one.

She could be enough for Logan. If a family is what he wanted.

 “I can be that.”

“Oh yeah, you’re gonna abandon everything here? The students? Charles?”

She shook her head. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a family Logan.”

For a moment, his grip grew deathly tight but he threw her to the ground before she could comprehend what he had been about to do.

They went back and forth, Jean feeling vulnerable and like Logan was prying down her defenses until it slipped out. Until she admitted he had gotten her pregnant.

Her choice had been easy. With telepathy, she knew early, very early, and she knew she couldn’t have a kid with Logan. She didn’t want a baby with Logan, or a baby at all.

Logan, at that point, would have been a bad dad, and she didn’t think he would have wanted to be one anyway. 

It would have broken Scott, broken him even worse when the affair got outed. Broken him enough that he might not have survived that blow.

But here she was, telling Logan he could knock her up, just for him to feel like er loved her again.

After

“She seems happy.” Jean commented, nodding to where Wade and you were giggling at the table. She was glad you had more friends now, not just Remy. It seems Remy never told Logan he was the one who outed their affair to Scott, otherwise Jean doubted Logan would hang around him as much as they do, even if his girl is his friend.

He beamed, looking at you. “Yeah, she’s do’n real well. Much better, I think.”

Swallowing some of her pride and jealous, Jean tried to do better, to be better. “It’s nice to see you happy too, Logan” She was sincere, but Logan seemed to try and brush it off. “I mean it. I’ve never seen you so pussy whipped.” It was meant as a joke, but the way Logan whipped his head back to her made Jean startle. She’d been more nervous around him lately; after the incident in the closet anyway. 

“The fuck you mean?” He was angry, and she didn’t know why. It was always like this with Logan; the mood swings she couldn’t predict, the sudden withdrawal of affection that left her clamoring. They were having a nice chat, now he was mad. 

She tried to remain firm and calm, not wanting to rile him up more. It was a nice party, she didn’t want to ruin it. “I just mean- Logan it’s a good thing. I mean you’ll do anything for her. She’d do anything for you, by the way.”

“She better. She’s my fucking wife.”

“Logan.”

“You know why I chose her, Jeannie? Because she don’t fuck’n sass off like you. Knows her place. Knows when to keep her mouth shut.”

“Or her mouth open, I assume.”

Logan looked like he wanted to slap her, his knuckles whitening where he gripped the counter.

Still, he tried to goed her on. “Yeah, because she’s a good girl, likes to please me. You wouldn’t know anything about that.” Jean opened her mouth to protest, but he continued. “Maybe you just need God too and you wouldn’t have to cry for the attention your husband won’t give you.”

He was trying to get under her skin, so she tried to let it roll off. “Using her trauma to keep her submissive isn’t the flex you think it is, Logan. Now I know why you chose her. Lot easier to get a girl to stay with you when you knock her up if she won’t have an abortion.”

You were playing with fire here.

“Shut up.”

Jean glared at him, taken aback by his sudden change, but growing tired of his childish behavior. She leaned in, whispering to keep nice for the party and for you. “You tell me to shut up again and will tell your little dolly that you fucked me while you were ‘taking it slow’ with her.”

Logan glared right back. “Yeah, and risk Scott finding out?”

“I am done wasting my time on either of you. Get fucked, Logan.”

Resisting the urge to throw her drink in his face, Jean walked off as she heard Wade squeal and wrap you into a big hug. Logan would be too busy handling that to follow her.

She was going to fucking be free of him. One way or another. 

He could tell Wade and Kurt whatever he wanted. He could tell them she was cruel, indecisive, played with him; all of it was true to some extent.

But that was the game he laid out for her. He set up the chess board and got mad when she took his queen. He taught her the rules and when backed into check, he broke them. And when she got checkmate, he ran away and cried crazy ex to his friends.

Wade wasn’t a fan of Jean, she knew that. That’s fine, he was too crass and loud for her taste.

Kurt was too nice to treat her with anything but kindness, but he didn’t go out of his way to talk to her like before. People had chosen their sides, and that was fine. But it was sick the way that Logan created a standard in their relationship of playing mind games, only to move the goalpost when she had the upper hand.

She was done with his incel ass. She was done with trying to get Scott to care about her above anyone else. She was done trying to prove herself constantly to get nothing back. 

Jean was done.

Thank you so much for reading! i had a breakthrough on my writers block for the end FINALLY!!!! Ah, the magic of boiling pasta at the OG <3

anyway I also had an idea for a married logan x reader series dealing with cheating but lemme finish this and IIBH first XD

SO JEAN!!!!! what do we think?

@multiversed-daydreamer @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @del-ightfulling @miraclesabound @hindi-si-ikay @samsamsantos @madamerubrum @shybluebirdninja a @hornystan @rogueinmymind @accountforreading123 @yawnetu @princessanglophile @and-claudia a @new-genesis100 @teaganthemorningstar @oldloganslittleslut @zaggprincess2 @bugsinmyeyez @groundclueless @cosmolight @nonamevenus

[everythingiguess]

Thamepo is just so interesting to me. I enjoy this show a lot and I need to talk about it.

It may seem like a pretty common plot —which could have something to do with the fact that it had been in the works for about 5 years before its actual release- but personally I feel like that's what makes it so enjoyable. You can't really go wrong with this kind of plot if it's handled correctly.

And I actually love all the main characters, which is something I usually have trouble with. In most cases I start liking them a lot but as the show progresses I notice that I don't really know all of them as I would like to.

And that's not the case with Thamepo! It makes me so happy; the fact that the show took its time to let us know each of them individually is one of the best things they could've done. This gave them a strong foundation to tell their story.

I know some people feel frustrated about Thame and Po not having scenes together as much as other bls, which is understandable, but I think that with a show like this it's the right way to go. I feel like it was necessary to focus on establishing the whole story and the environment, otherwise it wouldn't be believable. That includes getting to know all the band members, the people around them and the roles they play in their lives. Now that it's all established, they can focus on Thame and Po's relatioship more, which is what it looks like they're going to do; I remember seeing a clip of the actors talking about how surprised they were fans were so invested in the first half of the show because they thought people would start tuning it for the second part, so I'm guessing it's because that's where we have all the romance.

It's great and I love it because once Thame and Po are in a relationship, their dynamic will be very different from those in other shows; Thame is a popular idol and Po is not and that's a problem. This by itself should let us know that they will have a lot of difficulties and we've been given a glimpse of it in the Pepper-focused episode. Once it all begins, as an audience we'll completely believe in everything that happens because we're now immersed in the story and how everything works for people like the Mars' members. They won't need to explain every single thing to us because we already know and understand their situation.

We know because they took their time with the story, and they've done it so naturally. So of course I love it, and I think a lot of hard work has gone into this series and it shows.

I'm confident that if they hadn't done it like this it would have felt weird, absurd and careless.

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

...sighs

looks like i owe my sibling 10 dollars ← betting that the sonic 3 episode would come out

(the following is my live reaction:)

so Costco, eh? and with Meggy, Melony, Mario, and Bob? This will be interesting

as always, you gotta have your conveniently placed "World's Biggest Meat Grinder" there ofc 😌↕️

Bob... PLEASE REPHRASE wtf dude

not in this economy, no (not even eggs are worth it)

new bed? wait what happened to the...oh

"you're not my friends anymore" [*gets war flashbacks*] oh god, there was Mr Puzzles, then Tari, and now Melony got this line

"Ink, they reused old audio before" and yet the pattern is there. Puzzles and Tari feared that they were gonna lose the people they held dear. And if Melony had this as a nightmare, the same can be said. As to why, hmmmm *game theory theme starts playing*

uh anyway here's Melony being cute :)

fun fact for the day: NEVER LEAVE MARIO AND BOB UNSUPERVISED

can we get them in those kid backpacks with leashes?

Meggy, what are you talking about? We HAVE to get the racecar bed!!

also Meggy don't say that word, the fandom's already going insane over the steam and flareglow mystery as it is ← says a theorist who has already gone crazy

y'know I should've suspected a racecar bed to be an actual car (I was close tho)

never thought we would get this Mario and Bob dynamic again and y'know what? I'm all for it! It's a nice different flavor of chaos I could get used to

It IS important, it's to see the mattress's durability and stiffness bc back pain is just awful (there goes your spine). plus, we aren't getting one that was found by the dumpster

can we get a pillow fight in an episode? SLEEPOVER EPISODE?

things would've been worse if we were in IKEA, Meggy

oh... we got Leggy again...

well, a new thing is that she can change at will. BUT I think it kinda defeats the purpose of Leggy "off to a better place" back at WOTFI 2024. I think it could've been done better at a different episode when her past trauma overwhelms her and turns into Leggy, even more if Mr Puzzles escapes and finds her. I know for a fact that no one has gotten therapy and Meggy did say in the New Year's Special that those were traumatic memories.

Basically what I'm saying is: Meggy thinks her trauma (as well as everyone else's) is past them bc Mr Puzzles is in solitary confinement when it's really not, and THAT will eventually reach a certain limit ← this could've been executed better if Leggy wasn't in this episode and let Puzzles marinate some more, hopefully that makes sense

also Leggy's screams kinda give me sensory issues but that's me thing ANYWAY BACK TO THE EPISODE

ofc if you find the perfect bed, you're already dead asleep :)

THERE'S THAT LINE AGAIN, I'm telling you it's foreshadowing

AND AGAIN AUGH

love the Danny Phantom theme add-in

...WAIT NONONO YOU CAN'T JUST LET IT PASS BY WITHOUT ME NOTICING THE SAME BED USED IN WESTERN SPAGHETTI

"...Ink" Just let me me have my moment of exaggeration, I'll come back to sanity in a second

hey, i'm just living proof that a theorist brain can go haywire at the smallest things

"I work everywhere" Shroomy 🤝 Karen

FLASHBACK TIME YESSSS

...oh....can we talk about this for a second?

The fact that Melony's past has been recontextualized again and again, it somehow makes sense. Well, kinda.

All of Melony's memories are through HER point of view. We can take the conversation between her mom and dad as true but we might not know how far this problem is.

Hear me out: in the role of a child, you would view your parents as friends (depending on how much you see them caring for one another) since the concept of romantic relationships/marriage is a bit more complex to know at that age. It's why Melony interprets her mom leaving them as the friendship ending between them, "you aren't my friend anymore". Again, Melony was pretty young when it happened but it truly stuck with her, and this mentality of "friendship ending = losing them forever" as she had it with Axol Jr. in that nightmare (the closest thing to Axol when she lost him) and then to her friends.

Now, I'm not sure if I should include the memory trip from Revelations (bc of her not remembering having a family at all) but regardless, I think Melony blames herself for her parents separating in the first place. It's normal for children in a scenario like this to believe they are the cause. As said in Revelations, Melony thought she was a "bad daughter". And in the nightmares she had, SHE believes to the cause of losing those friendships as well.

There is still that gap of time between her growing up to when she debuted on the show so the question is: did she leave her dad behind bc of the past guilt she had? And perhaps had even more guilt afterward to leave her dad by himself after everything?

The image of a perfect family in Revelations and her being the "bad daughter that has forgotten about her family", it's pretty sad to think about, and no doubt I feel bad for her :(

EVERYONE NEEDS THERAPY STAT

Mario being the voice of reason, we love to see it

guys, it's not a baby smh /silly

oh good Melony's okay... right?

and the episode ends, we got a bed at least :D y'know, it's just another Saturday

Congrats to alex-dolmatescu2-0 (here on Tumblr) for your art being featured at the end credits! 🎉

we're just not going to think about the implications as to why the Team decided to pick it for this episode, still great fanart tho :)

also this,

i think it was an editing mistake lol (...or IS IT? jkjk)

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Well, chat, this is a good episode. I wouldn't say that it was a life-changing, plot-driven episode but it was okay.

Ofc I did love the Mario and Bob dynamic and some depth on Melony. There were definitely things, like the Leggy part, that could've been executed better/be placed in a better episode.

The year has started so I don't expect much to be absolutely perfect from the Team, they're trying. I still enjoyed it, don't get me wrong.

Then there's stuff whacking at my theorist brain but we don't need to talk about that.

And apparently, we got a new member on the Team, Max Sturz (also known as WizardzWiz)!

They're the writer and storyboard artist for the SMG4 show so hello, welcome! Very excited to see what they're gonna be working on in the future!

(so for future reference, I'm gonna call them Wiz)

That's all from me. I'm just gonna be in my little tent until SOMEBODY responds to the steam + flareglow mystery. Remember: numbers always go first, and I'll see you guys on the next one!

[mrspiastri]

mehendi lagake rakhna!

pairing: oscar piastri x desi!reader

genre: pure fluff, slightly suggestive at parts but nothing tooo crazy lol

wc: 1.8k

“Oscar, don’t tell me you haven’t practiced your steps! The sangeet is tonight!” Y/N’s cousins were simply frustrated with her dear boyfriend, who could not seem to dance to save his life and had also forgotten to practice the night before.

“I didn’t think it’d be so difficult! These steps are way too hard,” he protested, looking around for his girlfriend, who was seated among some ladies while she got her mehendi done. Apparently, being a bridesmaid at her cousin’s wedding included entertaining the many aunties and listening in on all their gossip

“Baby, are you aware of how mean your cousins are?” he huffed as he sat next to her.

“I told you to practice last night, but someone was too busy sampling the different kulfi flavors at the buffet.”

The man made a sound of indignation, then looked at Y/N’s palms, which were being adorned with a beautiful design.

“How does it look? Nice, na?” she asked while admiring her own hands.

Oscar agreed with a nod and a soft smile. She turned to look at him.

“Speaking of which, I’ve got a game for you! Your name’s written on my palm—it’s designed into my mehendi! You need to find it!” She giggled, and even the artist smiled at him.

“Really? Well, it should be rather easy. My name’s not very long.”

She winked at him. “That’s what you think. Just you wait!”

“He has another thing to worry about, Y/N!” her mum called out, coming to place her palm on Oscar’s back. They both laughed, with Y/N letting out a “Amma, don’t tease him!”

“Why do I need to worry about that?” he asked as the women laughed.

“Well, there’s this old saying: the darker a woman’s mehendi comes out, the more her husband loves her, so you better hope it’s dark, or else…” Y/N threatened him as her mother quietly laughed.

“But we aren’t married, darling. How’s that fair?”

Hearing this, her mother let out a huff. “You two are basically married. The specifics don’t matter.”

He let out a groan of faux annoyance. “You find the most wonderful ways to get me in trouble, don’t you?” He rolled his eyes while peering into her mehendi, trying to spot his name before she elbowed him away.

“You can only find it after it’s dried. Now go and practice your steps—you’re in the first line with me during Kajra Re.”

“What’s that now?”

“Just go and practice, you idiot.” She laughed at him as he ran away, fearing how much he would be yelled at for being a bad dancer.

🪷🪷🪷

“There we go, nice and easy. Now let’s get the next one.”

Y/N’s brother had been at work moving up and down the venue, helping out with small jobs like moving tables, carrying in suitcases, and asking the guests if they had eaten or not. Somehow, he managed to rope Oscar into helping, and help he did, eager to get away from the evil dancing bridesmaids.

After many attempts at trying to move a table, her brother said, “Mate, you need to help me lift this. It won’t budge.”

But before Oscar could do anything, he heard Y/N’s voice calling out to him from across the open ground where the mehendi function was happening.

“You better go. She doesn’t like to wait,” her brother said, chuckling.

“Don’t I know it? Coming, babe!”

“There you are. Look, I need your help. The bride’s uncle and his family are coming in from the airport. She sent someone to pick them up, and I need to call them and check if they’re on their way.”

“Okay, so do it,” he said, looking at her quizzically.

She rolled her eyes. “Osc, I’ve got to let the mehendi dry—I can’t really touch anything. Be a darling and reach into my pocket and take it out for me, please.”

She turned her hip slightly to the side, to where her pocket was, her hands in the air, carefully held up to make sure she didn’t smudge her henna.

“Yeah, of course,” he said as he reached around her waist, reaching for her phone.

It was only then he realized just how close she was standing to him. Her beige lehenga and blouse, showing off her midriff, with her hair cascading beautifully down her shoulders. She smelled heavenly, like she always did, with hints of vanilla and cocoa butter.

He then made the mistake of looking down at her, his face tinted with a shade of pink similar to hers. Y/N’s eyes were focused on him, and in that moment, it dawned on her that she hadn’t really noticed how handsome Oscar looked that day. Wearing a simple cream kurta with his sleeves rolled up and his token slightly messy hair, he looked effortlessly perfect.

It took a lot of self-control for her not to kiss him in that moment. They stared at each other for a while, neither moving, until eventually the sound of someone calling out his name was heard.

“Oscar! Need you to help with the tables, mate.”

Her brother, as usual, coming in clutch to be the cockblocker.

Y/N grit her teeth in annoyance, and Oscar finally remembered he had to take her phone out. He fumbled with it for a second before dialing and dealing with the contact she asked him to.

He held the phone to her ear till she finished speaking, and then put the phone back in her pocket.

“Thanks, babe. Now run along before someone else yells out for you.”

🪷🪷🪷

It’s the evening of the sangeet, and Oscar’s long hours of practice (read: 1 hour and 13 minutes) were finally going to be tested.

The guests were all seated, and Oscar felt a pang of nervousness, similar to the kind he felt waiting for the lights to go out at a Grand Prix. Y/N felt his anxiety and reached for his hand, gently squeezing it to alleviate his stress. He smiled and squeezed it back, and before he knew it, the opening tunes to the song Ainvayi Ainvayi began to play.

He managed to remember the steps, almost missing one before he got back on track. They danced to a few more songs before coming to the final one—and the most important—Kajra Re.

The two of them were placed front and center, with everyone able to see them. He saw her parents and grandparents in the crowd, along with her cousins, who whistled as they took their places on the stage.

The nervousness seeped in again, with the worry of having to impress her family. But Y/N leaned in, whispering to him, “You’re going to kill it, hon. Trust me.”

“What if I don’t?” he whispered back.

“Well, then I’ll mess my steps too. Then we can look dumb together.”

“That’s difficult to believe—you’re a good dancer,” he quipped.

“Leave it to me. I’ll fumble so bad we’ll have to hide out in our hotel room.”

They laughed, just as the music started. And believe it or not, Oscar killed it.

It turned out Y/N’s relatives were so excited to see the Australian dance to the Bollywood songs that they didn’t seem to mind if he messed up a few steps. They hooted and cheered, with their volume increasing at the final step, where Oscar pulled Y/N toward him and dipped her back dramatically.

The audience thoroughly enjoyed the performance, but for Oscar, everything else was drowned out. The only thing he focused on was his girlfriend, looking up at him with admiration and all the love she could conjure in a single look.

She mouthed, “Told you!” a triumphant smile on her face. He laughed, unable to argue with her words.

🪷🪷🪷

“That was some performance, you two!” Y/N’s dad complimented the couple as they ate—or rather, as Y/N ate while Oscar fed her.

It turns out being a bridesmaid doesn’t just mean you get to take cute photos and plan a bachelorette party; it also means you have a lot of work to do to make the bride’s life easier. She’d been running around post-performance, and Oscar had finally managed to catch a hold of her and sit her down.

“You’ve gotta eat something. The last thing you ate was a tea sandwich at 5:30,” he said firmly.

“I’m too busy to eat, Osc. I’ve got a lot of phone calls to make to the vendors for tomorrow’s haldi ceremony,” she mumbled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help out with it. For now, just sit down and let me get some food into your body,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

And that’s how they got here, with him feeding her a spoonful of biryani as she leaned back in her chair.

“Well, thankfully I had a good group of teachers,” Oscar said, motioning toward the other bridesmaids, who laughed at his compliment.

“Kanmani, why are you forcing the poor boy to feed you?” her father asked, using the affectionate nickname he had for his daughter.

“I’m too tired to eat, Appa. He’s forcing me to,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the rice still in her mouth.

“Well, at least we know you’re in good hands. Isn’t she?” her father said, nudging his wife.

“Oh yes, the very best. You’ve got your work cut out for you, kanna,” her mother added, making the entire table laugh.

Oscar leaned in and whispered into Y/N’s ear, “What did she call me now?”

Y/N smiled and replied, “She called you kanna. It’s like a term of endearment. She doesn’t even use it for my brother, so you should feel special.”

Oscar’s face lit up at the explanation, glad to feel so accepted and welcomed by her family. He grinned at her and fed her another spoonful of rice.

🪷🪷🪷

“By the way, I found my name,” Oscar said suddenly, making Y/N look up at him in confusion, only to notice him staring at her palms.

“Did you now? Where is it, then?” she challenged, her brow raised playfully.

He pointed to her left hand’s ring finger, where a small but clearly visible “Oscar” was designed into her mehendi.

“You’re good at this,” she said, impressed. “I asked her to make it super hard to find.”

They both laughed, and then he added, “I’ve got something for you to see, although mine isn’t as difficult to spot.”

He pulled out his palm and faced it upward, revealing the mehendi he had secretly gotten done. The design was simple but heartfelt. On his palm, Y/N’s name was written boldly and clearly, surrounded by small hearts.

She gasped at the sight, catching the attention of the rest of the table. Realizing what the matter was, everyone cheered, thoroughly enjoying how enthusiastically Oscar was partaking in their culture.

“You’re so adorable. I can’t believe you got this done—I didn’t even notice!”

“Well, you’d be surprised at how sneaky I am, darling.”

“Is that so?” she teased, grinning.

“Why yes, yes it is. Now, how about we go get some kulfi? I’ve been craving it since last night.”

She laughed, standing up and taking his hand as they walked away from the table, their laughter echoing through the festive evening.

🪷🪷🪷

this was my first attempt at writing smth lol, lmk your thoughts, and if you’d like me to continue with this. xoxo 🩷 (also yes i made the reader tamilian in this bc i like to shamelessly self insert haha)

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Playing for Keeps | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Chapter 10

 ← Previous Chapter Next Chapter →

Words: ~6,100

Tags: Modern AU, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Beater Sebastian

The girls' changing room buzzed as Slytherin team prepared for their first match of the season. The crisp autumn air filtered through the open windows, carrying with it the faint roar of the crowd already gathering outside. You sat on a bench near the corner, lacing up your boot, though your mind was far from the task at hand.

The week had passed in a blur, yet your thoughts kept circling back to Tuesday’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class. You and Sebastian had earned decent marks for your counter-curse, though Professor Hecat suggested you could have done better. It wasn’t a surprise, wondering you should’ve practiced more. But considering the circumstances, considering the tension simmering between you and Sebastian, it should have felt like a victory. Instead, it left you more unsettled than ever.

Unsurprisingly, Sebastian hadn’t lingered to celebrate let alone acknowledge the success. The moment class ended, he’d packed up his things and walked out without a word, leaving you alone with your thoughts. In fact, you hadn’t even needed to put effort into avoiding him this week—he was doing the work for you.

At first, it felt like a relief. No more taking the long way to class, no more avoiding the common room and timing breakfast to miss him. This was what you’d asked for on the Astronomy Tower, after all: to be left alone. But as the days passed, the empty space where his presence used to be began to feel glaring.

You’d tried to push it out of your mind, but the curiosity had grown unbearable enough that you’d tentatively asked Ominis about it during an uneventful Charms lesson.

“Ominis, has Sebastian been… acting strange to you?” you’d asked, keeping your tone casual, though your pulse quickened when his head tilted curiously in your direction.

“Strange how?” Ominis had replied, his pale eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“Like… I don’t know. Just… off. Avoiding people or…” You’d trailed off, unsure how much to give away.

Ominis had considered this for a moment before nodding slowly. “He has been acting a bit distant,” he admitted. “He hasn’t said anything, but I can tell something’s bothering him. I thought he’d eventually tell me what was going on, but…” He’d shrugged, his expression troubled. “He hasn’t.”

The knot of guilt in your chest had only tightened. You couldn’t shake the feeling that it was your fault, even though you’d told yourself over and over that he deserved your sharp words and the distance you’d forced between you.

“Earth to Chouette,” Imelda’s voice snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. She stood a few feet away, dressed in her emerald green Quidditch robes, her hands on her hips and her sharp eyes watching you with a mix of impatience and concern. “You planning to sit there daydreaming all day, or are you actually going to suit up?”

You blinked, glancing down at the half-tied laces of your boots. “Sorry,” you muttered, hastily finishing them up and standing to grab your robes. The green fabric felt heavier than usual—or maybe it was just the weight of everything else pressing down on you.

Imelda rolled her eyes but smirked. “First-game jitters? Don’t worry; they’ll fade as soon as the whistle blows.”

Vivian Warrington, your team’s Keeper, looked up from where she was adjusting her gloves. “Imelda’s right,” she said, her tone encouraging. “We’ve practiced enough. You’ve got this.”

Ophelia Selwyn, one of the Chasers, chimed in from the corner as she braided her long blonde hair. “Besides, the Gryffindor team is full of hotheads. We’ll have them scrambling in no time.”

You forced a small smile, grateful for their attempts at reassurance, even as your stomach twisted into knots. The sound of the crowd outside grew louder, the anticipation palpable.

Imelda clapped you on the shoulder as she passed by, grabbing her broom. “Come on,” she said. “Time to show those lions why Slytherin owns this pitch.”

You nodded, following her lead and grabbing your broom. The sharp scent of freshly cut grass hit you the moment you stepped out onto the pitch, the sight of the towering stands filled with students and staff making your heart race. The Gryffindor team was already assembled at the opposite end of the field, their scarlet robes catching the sunlight. Rory Fitzwilliam, their Seeker, gave you a cocky grin from across the way, his broom resting casually on his shoulder.

The boys on the Slytherin team were also already on the pitch, their brooms slung over their shoulders as they lingered by the edge of the field. Grayson Turner and Alexander Mulciber were deep in conversation, their laughter carrying over the noise of the stands. It didn’t take long to figure out what—or rather, who—had their attention.

Sebastian was standing a few feet away, surrounded by the cheer squad. Amelia was practically hanging off his arm, her perfectly curled auburn hair bouncing as she leaned in to whisper something that made him chuckle. The other girls flanked him, their tiny skirts swishing as they jostled for his attention, their matching tops—practically bras in your eyes—leaving very little to the imagination.

Grayson elbowed Alexander, gesturing toward the scene with a broad grin. “Merlin’s beard, he’s like a magnet. Look at them—they’re practically clawing over each other.”

Alexander snorted, his gaze fixed on Serena’s coy laugh as she tossed her hair. “Can you blame them? It’s Sallow. He doesn’t even have to try.”

You hung back, pretending to adjust your gloves as you tried—and failed—not to look. The sight of them made your stomach twist. They were everything you weren’t: tall, slim, and effortlessly perfect, their uniforms a dazzling blend of all four house colors, designed to stand out against the backdrop of the pitch as they moved.

Imelda’s voice cut through your thoughts, sharp and impatient. “Alright, enough gawking, you two,” she barked at Grayson and Alexander. “Get your heads in the game. We’re not here to watch Sallow play house with the cheer squad.”

Her words earned a few chuckles from the others, but she wasn’t smiling. She turned back to you and the rest of the team, motioning for everyone to gather. “Let’s go. Time to focus.”

The boys fell into step as Imelda led the group toward the center of the pitch.

“Alright, listen up,” she began, her sharp voice cutting through the hum of the crowd. “This is our first match of the season, and we’re going to make it count. Gryffindor’s got some strong players, sure, but they’re sloppy. They get cocky, they lose focus, and that’s where we come in.”

She turned to the Chasers first. “Mulciber, Selwyn, and I will keep the Quaffle moving. No fancy tricks unless we’re ahead by at least thirty points—stick to clean passes and keep the pressure on. Weasley’s a decent Keeper, but he gets distracted easily. Use that to our advantage.”

Next, she glanced at Grayson and Sebastian, her gaze sharp. “Turner, Sallow, you know what to do. Don’t let those Gryffindor Beaters get the upper hand. Keep those Bludgers under control and watch their formation—Their beaters love targeting the seeker.”

Grayson nodded, cracking his knuckles. “Got it.”

Sebastian gave a curt nod as well, though he still didn’t look at you.

Finally, Imelda turned to you and Vivian. “Warrington, keep your head on straight. You’ve been solid in practice, so don’t let the crowd rattle you. And you”—her eyes locked on you, her tone firm but not unkind—“don't do anything except focus on the Snitch. Fitzwilliam’s fast, but he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed. Use that. Stay calm, stay smart, and don’t let him intimidate you.”

You swallowed hard, nodding as you tightened your grip on your broom.

Imelda’s gaze swept over the group one last time, her expression fierce. “This is our game to win. Let’s remind Gryffindor who dominates this pitch. Slytherin on three.”

The team raised their fists, the energy building. “One, two, three—Slytherin!”

As the chant echoed, you felt a flicker of determination cut through your nerves. You mounted your broom alongside the others, the weight of the crowd’s anticipation pressing down as the referee stepped forward, the Quaffle and Bludgers floating in the enchanted chest beside her.

The whistle blew, sharp and piercing, and the game began.

In an instant, you angled your broom upwards, the familiar rush of air whipping past your face as you soared higher, aiming for a vantage point above the chaos. Your strategy was to stay out of the fray, hovering high above the pitch where you could scan for the Snitch without interference. It was a tactic that worked well in practice—watchful, patient, and precise.

But Gryffindor, it seemed, had other plans.

Their Beaters, Macmillan and Bellamy, zeroed in on you like hawks, sending Bludgers rocketing in your direction with ruthless precision. Each swing of their bats was calculated, cutting off escape routes and forcing you into erratic dives and swerves to avoid being hit.

“And that’s a near-miss for Slytherin’s Seeker!” the announcer called, his tone teetering between excitement and disbelief. “Looks like Gryffindor’s Beaters have it out for her today!”

You angled your broom upwards again, trying to regain altitude, but the onslaught continued. Macmillan’s latest Bludger sailed past your ear, forcing you into another sharp dive.

"Better watch out, Fitz," he called to his Seeker, "If you're not careful she might eat the snitch!"

From across the pitch, Rory barked a laugh, his broom zigzagging lazily as if he were on a joyride. “Good point,” he called, loud enough for the spectators to hear as he glanced at you. “You sure you're not maxing out your broom's weight limit?”

You gritted your teeth, scanning the field desperately. The sooner you caught that damned snitch, the sooner you could get away from these pricks. But the golden glimmer remained elusive, and every second you spent dodging Bludgers or dealing with their taunts felt like an eternity.

“Looks like Gryffindor’s Beaters are doubling down,” the commentator continued, his voice tinged with anticipation. “Macmillan sends another Bludger at Slytherin's seeker—she dodges! But wait—here comes Bellamy with a follow-up!”

The first Bludger was coming fast. You swerved hard, the force of your dodge sending your broom into a wobbling spin. Panic flared as you struggled to steady yourself, but before you could regain control, the second Bludger closed in.

The gasp of the crowd was deafening as the ball hurtled toward you. Just as it seemed inevitable that it would connect, a dark blur streaked into its path.

Sebastian.

With a powerful swing, his bat connected with the Bludger, the sharp crack echoing across the pitch as it careened back toward the Gryffindor Beaters. Bellamy barely ducked in time, his startled yelp lost in the uproar of the crowd.

“And Sallow swoops in to save the day!” the commentator shouted, his voice brimming with excitement. “Slytherin’s Star Beater showing impeccable timing there, keeping their Seeker in the game!”

Sebastian’s broom hovered close to yours for a moment, his expression sharp and focused. “You alright?” he called, his voice carrying over the roar of the stands.

Your heart was pounding, your breath coming in short bursts. “Fine,” you managed to reply.

He nodded, his gaze scanning the field. “Keep your head up, Chouette. They’re playing dirty.”

Before you could respond, he was already diving back into the fray, his bat raised and ready for the next Bludger. You watched him go, a strange mix of emotions swirling in your chest.

Shaking off the distraction, you forced yourself to focus, gripping your broom tightly as you resumed your search for the Snitch. You couldn’t afford to let your nerves—or anything else—get the better of you.

“Reyes to Selwyn—back to Mulciber—oh, and an interception by Onai!” the commentator called, his voice rising in excitement. “Gryffindor on the offensive—watch out, Warrington!”

Vivian hovered near the Slytherin goalposts, her movements precise as she blocked Natty’s first attempt and deflected another shot from Hayes. Below, Sebastian was a blur, his bat swinging with unrelenting force as he kept the Bludgers from wreaking havoc on Slytherin’s defense.

You weaved through the air, trying to maintain some semblance of focus. Fitzwilliam had been sticking close, his taunts coming at regular intervals, though you did your best to tune him out.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Slytherin!” he called, circling just beneath you. “It’s only a matter of time before you crash and burn.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, refusing to take the bait, your eyes scanning the pitch, searching for any hint of gold.

“Come on,” Rory goaded, his voice dripping with mockery. “Don't tell me you're afraid of a couple Bludgers?”

“Maybe focus on your own game,” you shot back, your voice sharp. “I don't see you holding the Snitch.”

His grin faltered slightly, and you felt a flicker of satisfaction. But it was short-lived. Another Bludger came hurtling toward you, courtesy of Macmillan. You twisted sharply, narrowly avoiding the hit, and Fitzwilliam used the opportunity to dart ahead, scanning for the Snitch with renewed determination.

Frustration burned in your chest as you dropped lower, using the movement of the game below as cover. The urgency of finding the Snitch was reaching a fever pitch—you needed to end this game before Gryffindor’s dirty tactics got you hurt, or worse, before you did something stupid.

You gripped your broom, zigzagging across the pitch, your eyes peeled for that elusive glimmer of gold. Somewhere above, Fitzwilliam was still circling like a vulture, his taunts becoming increasingly sporadic as he, too, scanned the field.

A Bludger streaked toward you from the right, its dark, menacing form closing the distance in seconds. You swerved hard, the sharp motion wrenching at your shoulder as you narrowly avoided the impact.

No sooner had you regained your balance than a second Bludger cut across your path, this one flying higher, its trajectory aimed squarely at your head. Your breath hitched, panic flickering in your chest, but before it could close the gap, a sharp crack split the air. The sound reverberated through the pitch, unmistakable and precise.

“And Sallow deflects another one!” the commentator bellowed, the excitement in his voice cutting through the din of the crowd. “The Gryffindor Beaters are relentless, but Slytherin’s Star Beater is an absolute wall out there!”

Your gaze instinctively flicked toward Sebastian.

For a fleeting moment, everything else fell away—the shouts of the crowd, the roar of the wind rushing past your ears. All that remained was him, cutting through the chaos of the pitch with a sharp, effortless grace.

You hadn’t meant to watch him for so long, really you hadn't, but it was hard to look away. The precision of his swings, the calculated way he positioned himself between you and danger—it was as if he could predict each move before it happened.

Your chest tightened, a strange mix of gratitude and something warmer settling deep in your ribs. He’d been watching out for you.

Shaking your head, you forced yourself to refocus. That’s his job, you reminded yourself firmly, gripping your broom tighter. He’s just doing his job.

Still, the thought lingered, unwelcome and persistent, as you scanned the field once more, your eyes darting in search of that elusive golden glimmer.

And then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw it.

A faint glimmer of gold hovered near the hoop of one of the goalposts, almost blending into the sunlight reflecting off the metal. It was subtle, hidden perfectly in plain sight, but there it was. The Snitch.

Your heart leapt, but you forced yourself to stay calm. You couldn’t afford to tip anyone off—not Fitzwilliam, and certainly not the Gryffindor Beaters. So you angled your broom just slightly, adjusting your trajectory to make it seem like you were simply repositioning to gain altitude.

You closed the distance slowly, your pulse thundering in your ears as the Snitch came into clearer focus, its tiny wings beating furiously as it hovered near the post.

And then, the announcer’s voice boomed across the pitch, sharp and urgent. “It looks like Gryffindor’s Beaters have seen something—Macmillan and Bellamy are signaling to Fitzwilliam!”

Your heart lurched as the words echoed through the air. You risked a glance behind you and saw it: Macmillan frantically pointing toward the the goalpost, shouting something to Fitzwilliam. The seeker's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he locked onto the Snitch.

Shit.

You leaned forward, gripping your broom tightly as you surged ahead. The wind roared past your ears, and the crowd’s cheers blurred into a single, deafening roar. The Snitch was tantalizingly close, its wings flickering like trapped sunlight as it darted back and forth near the hoop.

“She’s going for it! Slytherin’s Seeker has her eyes on the Snitch!” the commentator yelled, his voice rising in excitement. “But Fitzwilliam is in pursuit—this could come down to the wire!”

Your fingers tightened around your broom handle as you pushed it to its limits, the world narrowing to a single point of focus. The snitch darted to the left, and you adjusted instinctively, your muscles straining as you closed the gap. Fitzwilliam was shouting something behind you, but you couldn’t hear him over the pounding of your heartbeat.

And then, just as your hand stretched out toward the Snitch—

“—Oof!”

The impact was brutal, a sudden, bone-jarring force slamming into your side. You barely had time to register what was happening before another blow came, this one to the side of your head.

The world spun violently, the wind knocked from your lungs as your broom veered wildly off course. Your vision blurred, and the distant roar of the crowd became a dull hum, like you were underwater.

“Foul play from Gryffindor!” the commentator screamed, his voice cracking with outrage. “Macmillan goes for a body check—oh, Merlin, and Bellamy lands a direct hit with the Bludger! This is completely out of line!”

You couldn’t process his words. The only thing you knew was that you were falling.

The sensation was surreal, the world tilting and spinning as the ground rushed toward you. Pain radiated from your side and head, every breath sharp and shallow. You reached out instinctively, grasping for something—anything—but there was nothing to stop your descent.

And then you hit the goalpost.

The last thing you remembered was the blinding light of the sun and the sound of the crowd’s collective gasp before everything went black.

A dull, pounding ache throbbed in your skull, dragging you reluctantly back to consciousness. Your mouth tasted metallic, the sharp tang of blood mingling with dryness on your tongue. The world felt distant and muffled. Somewhere in the chaos around you, voices were shouting, but they blurred together into an incoherent hum.

You blinked slowly, your eyelids heavy and reluctant to obey. Colors bled together in your vision—green, silver, and the bright blue sky streaked with shadow.

Then, as the haze began to clear, you saw him.

He was cradling you in the grass, his face hovering just above yours, etched with an expression you’d never seen before—raw and desperate, and… afraid. His chest heaved as though he’d been running, and his eyes burned with barely contained panic.

“Chouette,” Sebastian said, his voice tight and trembling as his free hand cupped the side of your head, fingers brushing gently over your temple. “Hey, come on—wake up. Please wake up.”

His words didn’t fully sink in; your mind felt sluggish, as though it were working through molasses. Instead, your attention snagged on the strangest detail. There was blood—dark, stark, and wet against the emerald green of Sebastian's Quidditch uniform.

You stared at it, confused, your mind refusing to piece together the obvious. Was it yours? It had to be, but somehow, the sight of it didn’t register as frightening. It just… was.

“Hey,” Sebastian’s voice cracked as he said your name, your real name, urgently this time, panic bleeding into his tone. His hands shifted slightly, one cradling the back of your head, the other bracing your shoulder. “Merlin, just—just keep your eyes open, alright? Imelda! Where the hell’s Blainey?!”

You blinked again, slowly, and your gaze drifted upward to meet his. His face was pale, the freckles across his nose and cheeks standing out starkly in the sunlight. His eyes—deep brown with flecks of amber—were wide with fear, and you couldn’t help but think how unfair it was that someone could look so breathtaking even while panicking.

The thought was absurd, but it stuck, clinging to your mind as though it was the only thing tethering you to reality.

You parted your lips, trying to form words, but all that came out was a faint, dry croak. Your hand twitched at your side, and Sebastian noticed instantly, his eyes darting to the movement.

“Hey, hey,” he said quickly, his tone shifting slightly as though trying to coax you back fully to consciousness. “Careful, don't move. You're hurt.”

Your fingers twitched again, this time tightening around something hard and metallic. A faint fluttering sensation tickled your palm, and your brows furrowed in confusion. What—?

Sebastian’s gaze dropped to your hand, and his breath hitched audibly. His expression shifted in an instant, panic giving way to something closer to disbelief.

“Wait,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Is that—?”

You forced your gaze downward, your vision still hazy but clear enough to make out the small golden object clutched tightly in your fingers. The Snitch. Its tiny wings beat weakly against your grip, as though protesting its capture.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. And then all you could focus on was the slow exhale that escaped Sebastian’s lips, like he’d been holding his breath for far too long. Relief flooded his features, softening the tension in his jaw and brow.

“Of course you did,” he murmured, his tone somewhere between awe and exasperation. “Even half-dead, you still had to show off.”

You wanted to reply, to say something snarky, but your mind was moving at half-speed, too focused on strange, irrelevant details. Like the way his thumb brushed lightly over the back of your head, his touch warm despite the chill in the air. Or the faint, woodsy scent clinging to him, mingling with sweat and grass in a way that shouldn’t have been appealing but somehow was.

“Alright Blainey’s coming,” Sebastian said, sounding relieved as he glanced up. “Don’t pass out on me again. At least not until we get you to the hospital wing.”

The clatter of footsteps and urgent voices cut through the haze around you, signaling the arrival of the professors and school matron.

“She’s awake,” Sebastian called out, his voice firm but still tinged with tension. “But she’s not… she’s not okay.”

Madam Blainey appeared at his side, her presence a whirlwind of efficiency and calm. “Alright, back up, Mr. Sallow,” she instructed, her voice brisk but not unkind. “Carefully now.”

Sebastian hesitated, his jaw tightening as though the very idea of letting you go was unbearable. But at Blainey’s sharp look, he shifted, moving away from where you laid in the grass. The movement made your head spin, and a faint groan escaped your lips.

“Easy,” Sebastian murmured, his hand brushing your arm in a fleeting, grounding gesture before he let go completely. His absence felt immediate and cold, the warmth of his arms replaced by the clinical touch of Blainey’s wand.

“Let me see,” Blainey muttered, her wand tip glowing faintly as she began a series of diagnostic spells. The soft hum of magic passed over you, and you caught snippets of her muttered assessments: “Concussion, bruised ribs, and… laceration to the scalp. Not too deep, but there’s significant blood loss.”

You tilted your head slightly, gaze flickering from Sebastian’s stained uniform to the crimson on your own. The sight still didn’t fully register—it felt more like you were watching someone else’s body, detached and distant.

“Can you hear me, dear?” Madam Blainey asked, her voice cutting through the fog in your mind. “I need you to stay awake for me. Don’t let yourself drift off.”

You managed a faint nod, though the effort made your head throb painfully. “’M awake,” you mumbled, your words slurring slightly.

“She’s holding the Snitch,” Kogawa observed, her tone tinged with a mix of disbelief and amusement. “Remarkable. In all my years…”

Madam Blainey glanced at your hand, where the Snitch still fluttered weakly between your fingers. “Well, at least you caught it,” she said wryly. “Now let go, dear—you’ve done your part.”

Reluctantly, you loosened your grip, and the Snitch buzzed free, its tiny wings carrying it upward before it disappeared into the sky. The motion earned a cheer from the Slytherin stands, though it felt distant and dreamlike, barely breaking through the haze clouding your thoughts.

“Is she going to be alright?” Sebastian’s voice broke through the chatter.

Madam Blainey glanced at him briefly, her expression softening. “She’ll be fine,” she assured him. “But she needs to get to the hospital wing immediately. Help me get her onto the stretcher.”

Sebastian was already moving before she finished speaking, stepping forward to lift you carefully under Madam Blainey’s guidance. His hands were steady, his grip firm but gentle as he helped lower you onto the floating stretcher Blainey conjured with a wave of her wand.

Kogawa nodded, turning to address the crowd that had begun to gather near the edge of the pitch. “Clear the way!” she commanded, her voice slicing through the noise. “Back to your seats!"

The walk to the hospital wing was a disjointed blur. The stretcher swayed gently, Madam Blainey guiding it with precision while Kogawa kept the path ahead clear. The castle’s familiar corridors felt foreign, the towering stone walls blurring together as your vision wavered.

Every so often, you instinctively reached out, your hand brushing against something—someone—warm and solid.

Each time, Sebastian's response was immediate—a firm but gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Still here,” he murmured.

When you finally arrived at the hospital wing, Madam Blainey wasted no time moving you gently onto one of the crisp, white beds.

“She needs Wiggenweld,” Blainey muttered, reaching for a vial on a nearby tray. “And rest. Lots of it.”

Sebastian hovered at your side. “What can I do?”

“Sit,” Blainey said sharply, not bothering to look up as she poured the shimmering green potion into a goblet. “And don’t get in my way.”

Sebastian didn’t argue. He pulled up a chair beside the bed, his posture tense as he watched Blainey work. You caught glimpses of his face through half-lidded eyes—his jaw clenched, the furrow between his brows deep with worry. It was a look you weren’t used to seeing on him, and it tugged at something deep in your chest.

“Here,” Blainey said, holding the goblet to your lips. “Small sips, dear.”

The potion was warm and thick, sliding down your throat with a soothing heat. You grimaced at the taste, but the pain in your ribs and head began to dull almost immediately.

The sound of hurried footsteps broke the quiet, followed by a familiar voice.

“There you are!” Imelda’s sharp tone cut through the air like a whip as she burst into the hospital wing, her green robes slightly askew and her hair in disarray. Her eyes zeroed in on you, narrowing as she stormed over. “Merlin’s beard are you alright, Chouette? I can’t believe those Gryffindor idiots knocked you out like that! I swear, if I see them in the halls I’ll—”

“Miss Reyes,” Blainey interrupted, her voice cool and firm, “if you insist on yelling, I will have to ask you to leave. She needs rest, not your shouting.”

Imelda clamped her mouth shut, though her scowl remained firmly in place. She perched on the edge of the bed opposite Sebastian, her gaze sweeping over you critically.

You couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at your lips, though it was more of a grimace. “You’re late,” you murmured, your voice rasping slightly.

Imelda snorted, her glare softening. “I had to stop Mulciber and Turner from hexing half the Gryffindor team… Seriously, though, that was ridiculous. What were they thinking? Bloody Gryffindors—”

“I think Kogawa will handle it,” Sebastian muttered, his tone sharp. “They won’t be playing in Gryffindor’s next match, that's for sure.”

“Not enough,” Imelda grumbled, crossing her arms. “They should be disqualified from the whole season.”

Sebastian’s hand brushed yours again, drawing your attention back to him. His expression was softer now, though the worry hadn’t entirely left his eyes. “But you don’t need to worry about that,” he said quietly. “Just focus on getting better.”

Imelda glanced between the two of you, her brows raising slightly, but for once, she didn’t comment. Instead she sighed, grumbling about Gryffindor’s lack of sportsmanship. “Honestly, if Weasley thinks he’s captain material, he’s delusional. Can’t keep his team in line to save his life.”

Sebastian let out a weak chuckle. “Garreth doesn’t exactly scream ‘authority figure,’ does he?”

Imelda smirked. “That’s the understatement of the year.” She leaned forward slightly. “So, how’d you manage to pull off that ridiculous catch?”

Sebastian straightened in his chair, his jaw tightening slightly. “Instinct,” he said simply.

Imelda raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching as though she wanted to make a comment, but she refrained. Instead, she sighed and crossed her arms. “Well, I suppose I should thank you for that. Can’t have my Seeker out for the season because of a couple of Gryffindor thugs. Especially considering she made the catch of the century herself. Merlin’s beard I can’t believe you caught the snitch, Chouette!”

Before either of you could respond to Imelda, Madam Blainey returned, her expression brisk as she carried a goblet in one hand and her wand in the other. Her sharp eyes took in the laceration on your head with a practiced sweep. “Alright,” she said, her tone efficient. “Let’s take care of that cut.”

She raised her wand, murmuring an incantation under her breath. A soft, silvery glow emanated from the tip as she carefully traced it over the wound. A warm, tingling sensation spread across your scalp, and you felt the skin knit together seamlessly. The ache dulled almost instantly, leaving only a faint soreness behind.

“There,” she said with a satisfied nod before handing Sebastian the goblet. “Now for the potion. It’ll help with the pain and speed up the healing process.”

Sebastian leaned forward, his free hand resting on the edge of the mattress as he held the potion toward you. “Here,” he said softly, his voice gentle in a way that sent a flutter through your chest. “Slowly.'

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes flicking between him and the goblet. There was something unbearably tender in the way he held it, his fingers steady despite the faint tension in his posture. Finally, you nodded, and as you leaned forward, he carefully brought the goblet to your lips.

The potion was thick and bitter, its taste lingering unpleasantly on your tongue, but a soothing warmth spread through your chest with each swallow.

When you finished, he pulled the goblet away and set it aside. Madam Blainey watched you closely, her sharp eyes scanning your face for any signs of distress.

“Good,” she said with a curt nod. “That should take effect quickly. You’ll need to stay here overnight for observation, but you’ll be back on your feet soon enough.”

Imelda rose from her chair, brushing her hands on her robes. “Guess I should let the rest of the team know you’re alive,” she said, her tone gruff but not unkind. “Mulciber’s probably halfway to hexing someone again. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

You managed a faint smile, your voice soft as you replied, “Thanks, Imelda.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t thank me yet. You’ll have a lot of groveling to do if you want to make up for missing practice.”

With that, she strode out of the hospital wing, her boots clicking against the stone floor. The door swung shut behind her, leaving you alone with Sebastian as Madam Blainey returned to her office, muttering something about an 'incident report'.

The silence that settled over the room was heavy but not uncomfortable. You glanced at Sebastian out of the corner of your eye, noting the way he sat perched on the edge of his chair, his hands clasped tightly in his lap as though he didn’t know what to do with them.

“You don’t have to stay,” you managed.

Sebastian’s head snapped up, his eyes locking on yours. “I… I mean, if you want me to leave, I can."

You shook your head almost immediately, the motion making your skull throb. “No,” you said quickly, wincing. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

His expression shifted, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Alright,” he said quietly, sitting back in his chair but still leaning forward just enough to keep close. “Then I’m staying.”

The declaration hung in the air, solid and steady. You nodded faintly, unsure what to say, your gaze flicking down to your hands as they rested on the blanket covering your lap. The silence stretched between you again, but it wasn’t awkward. If anything, it felt like a fragile truce.

After a moment, Sebastian cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. “That scared the hell out of me,” he admitted, his voice low but resolute. “When I saw you fall…”

You looked up at him, startled by his tone. He was staring down at his hands, his brows furrowed deeply. “I thought I wasn’t going to get to you in time,” he continued, his fingers gripping the edge of the chair. “And then when you hit the goalpost, I just—” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply.

“I’m fine,” you said softly. “Sebastian, I’m fine.”

He looked at you then, his brown eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your chest ache. “You’re not fine,” he said, his voice tinged with a quiet anger—not at you, but at the situation, at what had happened. “You’re covered in blood, Chouette, and you could’ve…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

You swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. Part of you wanted to remind him that you’d known the risks when you took the position as Seeker. But another part of you—the part that still felt the phantom ache of the Bludger hitting you—wasn’t sure what to say.

So instead, you said the only thing you could. “You caught me.”

Sebastian blinked, his eyes softening slightly as the words sank in. A faint, wry smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Yeah,” he murmured, his tone almost self-deprecating. “Guess I did.”

The silence lingered between you, steady like the quiet after a thunderstorm. Everything still felt a bit muddled—your head aching, and every small shift sent a dull throb through your ribs. But the steady presence of Sebastian sitting beside you made the world feel just a little less disjointed.

After a moment, you spoke, your voice soft and tinged with fatigue. “Do you think Blainey will let me at least listen to some music?”

Sebastian turned to look at you, eyebrows lifting in mild surprise. “Music?” he repeated, his voice low. “In the hospital wing?”

You shrugged, immediately regretting the motion as it pulled at your bruised ribs. “I mean… it’s not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon,” you muttered, gesturing vaguely at the pristine white sheets and the shelves of potion bottles surrounding you. “Might as well have something to make it a little less… sterile.”

He leaned back slightly in his chair, considering, before his mouth quirked into a faint grin. “Well,” he said, “it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he reached into the pocket of his Quidditch robes and pulled out his phone.

Your brows knit together, incredulous. “Are you kidding me?” you asked, your voice hoarse but still managing to convey your disbelief. “You brought your phone onto the pitch? That’s—”

“Against the rules,” he finished for you, smirking in that familiar way that made you want to simultaneously roll your eyes and—no, not worth finishing that thought. “So is half the stuff I do,” he said with a shrug, casually unlocking the screen. “Besides, what’s the worst Imelda could do? Bench me? Highly unlikely. I’m indispensable.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the faint teasing in his voice made it impossible to hold on to any indignation. Instead, you watched as he scrolled, the glow of the screen illuminating the freckles dusting his nose and cheeks. For a moment, the sight of him so focused, so comfortable, almost distracted you from the ache in your head.

“Any requests?” he asked.

You hesitated for a beat, your hazy mind dredging up old favorites. “Something from… The Lumineers maybe?”

Sebastian’s head tilted slightly, and he shot you a knowing look. “Oh, so we’re going indie folk, are we?” he teased.

“You literally have the same taste in music,” you shot back. “Don’t pretend you’re not just as bad.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and low. “Fair point,” he admitted, his fingers pausing on a track. A moment later, “Stubborn Love” by The Lumineers began to play, the strum of the guitar and drag of the strings filling the air. You noticed Sebastian relax a little, leaning back in his chair as his foot tapped absently.

“I forgot how much I love this one,” he said after a moment, his voice thoughtful.

You tilted your head slightly toward him, curious despite yourself. “Didn’t peg you for someone who’d get sentimental over music.”

“Shows what you know,” he shot back lightly, though his eyes twinkled with faint amusement. “I’ve had this particular playlist since fifth year. It’s practically a masterpiece.”

“You think way too highly of yourself,” you muttered.

“Maybe,” he said, his tone light. Then, after a pause, he added more quietly, “But you’ve got to admit—you’d probably love this playlist.”

He was right, you probably would.

You let the faint smile on your lips grow just a little, your eyes drifting shut for a moment, the music washing over you. And when you opened your eyes again, you found Sebastian watching you, his expression unreadable but… softer, somehow.

“Better?” he asked.

You nodded, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Better.”

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[luuvprincess]

✰࿎2࿎✰

Now playing Damage by H.E.R Sierra

"Don't judge but I find that my boss is just fine as hell mani you should have seen him. It was the tattoos that did for me girl." I said as we're in standing in the kitchen cooking dinner together while having a smoke session. "And bitch he had me blushing on the first fucking day!"

She laughed a little shaking her head at me. "Was it that bad?" She asked. I nodded my head aggressively.

"Yes girl I was losing my shit." I tell her. I walked over to the kitchen sink and poured the pasta noodles into the drainer to drain all the water out. "Where's my phone I needa show you what he looks like." I said reaching for my phone. I opened Instagram searching up Joshua Instagram and I showed her his pictures. "Damn girl you wasn't lying and this coming from someone who has completely different taste I can see it in my head now you freaking out because you by some fine shit." She said.

"Yes exactly and when I was helping his son with homework I caught him staring once or twice." I said.

"Hey what if he likes what he sees." She said as she looked me up and down.

"No he couldn't he's my boss that's not professional at all." "Girl so if he makes the move first then it's okay because clearly he won't give a fuck about that professional shit."

I moved back over to stove putting the seasoned chicken on the stove next to cook. Imani passed me the blunt. I took my few hits out of it passing it back to her.

"I don't know what imma do girl." I said shaking my head.

"Your gonna keep working and not let the first day of work get over you head." She said.

"You right I'm over exaggerating." "Yea you think." I rolled my eyes at her shaking my head. After dinner was done we sat down and ate watched the new Episode of Baddies. As I was eating I got messages from Joshua.

(1) iMessages from Mr.Fatu Mr. Fatu Mr. Fatu: good evening Sierra just wanted to make sure everything was all set for Saturday

Sierra: Yes everything is all set I emailed yours and Jeyvon's plane tickets Mr.Fatu: Yeet thanks Cece see ya tomorrow have a good night

Sierra: 😂 you welcome and you as well have a good night Joshua

"Who got you cheesing over there?" Imani asked.

"Girl nobody." I answered as I got up. "You done babes?" I asked pointing at her plate. She nodded her head, I took her plate to kitchen along with mines and washed all the dishes while she put the food away and we both did a little part of cleaning the kitchen then we went our separate ways. I walked to my bathroom so I could take a shower. After my shower I got dressed and got in bed I put something on Netflix while I did some work.

Sierranicole 10mins ago

🩵WEEK LATER🩵

"Hey baby how's it been out there?" My mom asked as we were on the phone while I was on my way to Joshua's house. "It's been good actually I just started my new job last week."

"Really? How do you like it?" She asked. "I love it ma it's really easy my boss he's super nice." I could hear her smiling on the other end of the phone.

"Well that's good baby. I miss you out here." She said.

"I miss you too mom tell Selena and Booda I said I love them. I gotta go I love you." I said.

"I love you my sweet girl be safe." She said. "I will mom later." "Alright I guess I'll talk to you later then." The call came to a end as I pulled up in Josh's driveway next to his all black 2025 cadillac CT4-V black wing. I collected my things before getting out the car as i walked up to the front I seen he was in garage working out. He had these pink hoochie daddy shorts, his gold chain with the match bracelet, no fucking shirt chest all out honey. He was looking to fucking good.

This man is so damn fine no no Sierra keep it professional

"What's sup Cece." Joshua says taking me out my deep thoughts. I quickly shoot him a smile before walking into the garage. "Hey I brought lunch." I said holding up a bag of McDonald's.

"Oh word. Let me go shower real quick." He said as we walked in the house. I followed behind getting a good view his tatted back.

What the fuck is happening to me

I sat at the kitchen island and I took out food the bag setting it all up and I just sat on my phone while I waited for him. Today I needed him to pick which style he wanted to do for Saturday night. Just as I was sitting there I got text from Jashawn which I haven't talk to him since the day I ended things with him.

(3) iMessage from Shawn 🚮 Shawn 🚮 Shawn🚮: you moved you ain't tell me Sierra. That's what we do now Shawn🚮: Why I had find out through my homie that you moved why you ain't tell me Shawn🚮: It's cool tho mama imma find you some way some how

Sierra🫧: First of all Shawn what I do with my life literally has nothing to do with you Sierra🫧: secondly tell your bop ass friends to stop stalking me for you Sierra🫧: and third your crazy 😐

Shawn🚮: I'm not crazy Sierra I love you there's a difference

Sierra🫧: Love? Nigga please you sure have funny way of show your love for someone 🤨 Sierra🫧: and again we done Sierra🫧: what we had it's dead Sierra🫧: It literally does not exist my nigga and with that being said get tf of my phone Shawn🚮: you got a lot of mouth girl watch when I see your ass again Sierra🫧: and watch when me and my new nigga jump you

"Damn you good?" Joshua asks as he walked in the kitchen with a fresh pair of clothes on. I looked up from phone at him. "I'm fine just had to let someone know about themselves sorry."

"Hey along as your good we good." He said putting his hands up in surrender. He took a sat beside me grabbing what was his. I opened my laptop pulling out the 3 different styles he had to choose from.

"Okay your designer crew emailed these over to me they want you pick which ones you want for Saturday." I said showing him the screen. He looked at the screen analyzing the 3 different styles he had to choose from.

"This one." He said point at the one in middle. "I like the idea they were going for with it." He said.

"Yea I was thinking the same thing." I said turning the laptop back towards me I sent them team a message tell them which one he had picked.  "So are you ready?" I asked .

"Hell yeah I'm ready been working hard for this." He said. 

"Waffle house on me when you win?" I asked.

"You had me at Waffle House." He said smiling from ear to ear. I giggled shaking my head. "Okay it's a deal then." I tell him sticking my hand out as we shook on it.

"How are you doing with everything?" He asked.

"With what?" I asked.

"Work and moving to a whole new state how's everything been?" He asked.

"I mean work fine my boss he's chill can't really complain when there's nothing to complain about." He smiled as I continued "And as for moving to a whole new state it actually feels good the only thing is I really miss my mom and siblings sometimes." I said.

"How many siblings do you have?" He asked.

"I have 2 one older brother and a little sister." I said.

"Well if you ever need a vacation to go visit family let know I understand that family is important and is always first." He says.

"Thank you that's very kind of you seriously." I said with a smile. Joshua

The way Sierra smiled at me had me feeling some kinda of way I ain't felt in long time. We just sat at the island for another 30 mins just talking about random things learning things about each other.

"My family huge I got 3 brothers one being my twin brother and I got a sister and if you wanna count Joe as brother because that's really what we see him as so that would make it 4 brothers and a sister." I tell her.

"Really wow." She said as she sipped her drink.

"My roommate is the next closest thing I have family we've literally been friends since the womb she's definitely sister to more than anything and then my other best friend is my sister in law she married to my brother and they actually have twins girls Brielle and Arielle." She said.

We continue talking for about a another 20mins before she was getting ready to head out. I helped her bring her stuff the car even though all she had was her bag I just wanted to be extra. She walked in front of giving me a fabulous view of that ass.

"Thanks Joshua see ya later." She said as she unlocked her car door she turned around taking her bag out my hand. She put everything in the back seat.

"Drive safe Lil mama text me when you get home." I said pulling her in for a hug. She hesitated at first to hug me back but then eventually hugged me then we pulled away. She got in the car and back out my driver way she waved before she sped off. I watched untiled I couldn't see her no more. I walked back into the house closing and locking the door. I walked into the living room and decided to just play the game. (1) iMessage from Sierra

Sierra: I made it home I'll see Monday morning

Joshua:  Yeet have a good night Sierra and see ya Monday don't be late

Sierra: 😂 gn Josh

HE LOST LAST NIGHT 🥲 it's okay bae you forever gonna be my number one champion 😘🩵.

But anyways I hope yall enjoyed VOTE and COMMENT. This was quick one I just wrote whatever came to mind I'm not gonna lie 😭.

Stay Jucey🫧🩵.

[nereidof40k]

I have read Abyssal Edge so many times since yesterday I couldn’t resist rewriting the interview scene with Sevatar and the newest OC in my brain. Just for her responses. I’ve tried copying as little text as I can get away with and retain context.

Hope this interests anyone else than me. I have no idea how it would end, ultimately.

‘Greetings,’ said First Captain Jago Sevatarion. ‘You and I are going to have a conversation.’

It was testament to her training that she did not stand there staring like a young girl faced with her celebrity crush.

Stepping aside, she gestured at the low table with its chairs. “Come in First Captain. I am surprised a man of your rank has the time for this.”

Moving to the tea kettle, she put her sunglasses down, showing her completely ink black eyes for the first time in years. “Tea, First Captain Sevatarion?”

She thought she heard a hint of a smile in his voice, but that might be wishful thinking. “No. Now start talking.”

With those words, and the order within them, business had begun in earnest.

Before she even sat down, she handed over the report that had earned her ire so.

Watching him like he was the last thing she would ever see, she unpinned her hair, letting the points of her ears poke out. He might very well be the last thing she ever saw, and she would prefer to face her death without pretense.

Sevatarion finished reviewing it in less than six minutes. She was impressed. He was faster than she was, and she considered herself a fast reader.

The First Captain didn’t give back the data-slate once he was done with it. He locked eyes with her from across the chamber’s low table.

She began to speak. “This is a terrible report. Not up to standard at all. If I had dared to submit something this biased and speculative, I would not have lived to see the next day. I have a duty to do, and so I am looking for better sources.”

For once she allowed herself to gesture as she spoke, letting her passion for her work show. It seemed to amuse Sevatarion a little, unless she was reading him completely wrong.

Sevatar still hadn’t relinquished the data-slate. “Who filed this miserable poetry?”

“An officer listed as “Khayon of the Khenetai”, who belongs to something called “The Order of the Jackal”. He’s cited as captain of the warship Tlaloc.”

Sevatar shrugged, the barest movement of his broad shoulders. “Never heard of him. I couldn’t tell you if he was there or not. I paid little attention to the Thousand Sons junior officers at Zoah. They all tended to whine in the same way. They blurred in my memory after a while.” He paused, reflecting for a moment. “”Order of the Jackal”. “Khenetai”. What amusing titles the other Legions use.”

She chuckled dryly at that. “Pity. I would have loved to sign him up for classes in remedial report writing”

Sevatar blinked at last, and his imitation of a smile faded. ‘Here is what you may do. You may file this report as it is, leaving it in the archives for future generations to regard as a mild and anomalous curiosity. Or you can delete it, and no one will know or care. If you do either of those actions, you will leave these quarters, and then leave the Nightfall, returning to your dull life.”

The First Captain reached for one of his belt pouches and drew forth a fist-sized orb of polished brass. She raised a curious eyebrow at the sight of the antiquated holo-projector as Sevatar rested it in the centre of the low table between them. The towering warrior rose with purring armour joints as he spoke once more. “You can leave and forget about this. Or you can watch the recording, and get the answers you’ve come for. Contained within are no vital records that will benefit the Great Crusade, no damning truths that will threaten either of the two Legions involved. Just the words of two brothers at odds. Words that neither brother wishes those outside their Legions to know. This…”he tapped the activation rune with his thumb but didn’t push it down, “…is a matter for legionaries and primarchs. A family matter. Not something for mortal eyes and ears, and certainly not the Crusade’s archives.”

“Then why offer it to me?’

Sevatar chuckled. “Why indeed.” His tone made it rhetorical. “Farewell”

She watched as Sevatar reclaimed the immense war spear, longer than she was tall. “This recording, First Captain. If I watch it…” Sevatarion fixed his black eyes upon hers. “Are you asking if you will forfeit your life by learning the truth?”She nodded. Sevatar did not. “Let me ask you something, my Lady. If you were to die tonight… would you really care?”

She felt a cold shiver down her spine at his words. Had he somehow figured her out? Did he care about the blood in her veins, the sins of the fathers? Gathering herself she pressed the rune without hesitation. Watching intently, pale brows furrowed as she committed it to memory.

***********

The hololithic recording faded away, and the device on the table still clicked as it cooled. “Magnus was a fool.” She said softly to herself.

“Perhaps he was,” Sevatar allowed. She jerked at realising she wasn’t alone, though she was ultimately unsurprised. First Captain Sevatar was standing in the doorway, his spear in his hand. Focused on her duty, she hadn’t heard him return. Now the bulkhead stood open. Death was coming, and it wore ceramite armor.

“Some minds are not equipped to deal with the truth.” Sevatar walked into the room, his boots thudding on the floor. With the butt of his spear, he casually pushed the door closed. It sealed with a mechanical crunch. “Perhaps both primarchs were right, or both were wrong. It hardly matters.’”

He looked down at the much smaller woman, black eyes unblinking. ‘You learned what you came to learn. Was the recording enlightening?’ She nodded. “It was.” Smiling suddenly, a rare expression aboard the Nightfall. “I’ve never seen demigods argue before.”

“Yes, it has entertaining elements,’ Sevatar admitted. “We are told it would be awful for morale if it ever became common knowledge, however. Primarchs must not be seen to be at odds with one another. The Crusade’s mandate is strict on these matters. I doubt most humans would care about or understand the gravity of the argument, but I did not write the codes of conduct. I merely enforce them. Sit still, please.”

She was as still as a statue, pale face impassive as she watched him. “Death comes to all in time. It’s been an interesting life.” She refused to beg, cry or scream. “Duty never ends.” Her voice was flat as a gravestone.

Sevatar raised his chainglaive. His armour joints growled in chorus. The chain-teeth stayed inactive; they would rend flesh easily enough without the Astartes needing to gun the weapon’s trigger.

She stared up at her killer, awaiting the blur of movement that would herald the end. Switching to Nostraman for this. “Of all the things I could have seen in my last moments, your handsome face is one of the better.” Suddenly feeling giddy, like she wanted to laugh until her ribs cracked. Like years of watchful tension had melted away.