#but she didn't because she has come too far and they are NOT in the wilderness anymore

[shalotttower]

Will-o'-the-wisp

Title: Will-o'-the-wisp

Fandom: Hunter x Hunter

Characters: Chrollo Lucilfer x Reader (female)

Summary: Reader encouters fae!Chrollo and breaks some rules along the way.

Word count: 1700+

Notes: yandere!Chrollo, fae!Chrollo, abduction, manipulation, AU, modern setting with fae, Chrollo is charming af and a bit creepy as usual, Reader is doomed long before they know it and slightly depressed

You walk home the same way every day, like many people do. There's comfort in routines. Comfort and security which you crave. The familiar routes, the repetitive programs on TV and the books you've read a million times. You like to know what happens next and hate surprises.

The fourteen-year-old you wouldn't approve.

Maybe even express a little pity, because she always thought you two were destined for an adventure, like in fantasy books you used to devour one after another. Every free second was spent reading or dreaming, but life went on and adventures didn't happen. The girl grew older, a lot more careful and a lot less hopeful.

When you finish work, it's usually around six. Your adult self is practical and prefers to save money on the bus, besides, every other time you take it, you end up having to stand, squeezed between people. It's not worth the frustration; a fifteen minute walk isn't that long and the crime rate in the area is low.

There's a small grove nearby that nobody has bothered to turn into a park. The residents made their own paths in time, put a few signs so the joggers wouldn't get lost, but that's it. Once or twice a month you stroll through there, picking up trash left on the side. People make you want to move to the woods altogether sometimes.

That's how the day starts or ends — with crossing a bridge which connects the grove to your neighbourhood.

And this is where you see him for the first time.

The man looks so out of place among the rustic wooden railings and rushing water below. Nobody wears this kind of clothes here. Expensive and elegant, something that blends well in a big city. They don't stare at passersby like he does either. You hate when people do that ─ block already narrow spaces by just stopping midway. Or groups who spread across the entire sidewalk.

"Excuse me," you say politely. Polite is good. Polite can be used as a shield and always makes you look better than you are. "I need to pass."

He smiles, then moves aside. "Of course."

His face is exactly what you imagine when thinking of pleasant: beautiful grey eyes with long lashes, pointed chin and a strange mix of delicate and sharp edges.

"Thank you."

The smile widens. "You're welcome."

---

It's time to accept that you've grown into an average person with a simple desire to live in comfort. Dreaming isn't your strength anymore, the last book you picked up was several years ago. Movies bore you fifteen minutes in, even if everybody else praises them; the idea of a relationship seems exhausting.

You do enjoy gardening.

Growing tomatoes is a far cry from distant fictional lands, but they taste nice with a pinch of salt.

The condo you live in doesn't have enough space and light, so you chose a small patch of ground in the grove to start a garden. A few tomato plants and some herbs like chives and basil. It might be illegal, yet nobody has come to yell at you. Most people don't pay attention to what's happening here, as long as you don't damage the trees or leave trash.

You water and prune, weed, add fertilizer if needed. There're some flowers too; mother told you that marigolds scare pests away from veggies and keep the soil healthy. They're pretty, little orange spots.

---

You find a crystal at you patch. Azure would be too bland to describe its color ─ maybe more like a mix of cerulean and moon stone. It's round in shape, polished so nicely that the outlines of your face are reflected in the surface. Did a magpie bring it? Or a kid? The thought of someone poking around your garden makes you frown. You hope they didn't step on your basil.

The stone is heavy and cool. You turn it around, entranced, before stuffing it into the pocket of your jeans. Maybe you can ask the neighbours' kids about it later.

"Would you look at that," you mutter and bend to inspect a tomato plant. Two green fruit, each no bigger than your knuckle, hang there, sprouted over the weekend. "Hello, my pretties."

---

You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. It's past 1 AM, you should sleep; instead, you keep twisting the stone in the moonlight.

You asked kids from around here, but nobody claimed it.

Maybe it's a lucky charm, you've had a wonderful day. Got a call from your cousin in the morning, she has't contacted you in a long while and it was nice to catch up. After lunch, the resource manager praised your work, then an elderly lady from the store complimented your cardigan.

At a certain angle, the stone seems almost glowing. A summer night sky condensed into a tiny orb. Your fingers trace its smooth surface without much thought until eventually it drops onto the pillow by your side.

You don't notice when exactly you fall asleep.

It's the strangest dream you've ever seen.

Gone is the condo building with its stuffy kitchenette and old pipes that constantly rumble. Instead, you feel damp grass underneath your feet. Wind brushes through the hem of your nightdress, carrying the scents of rain and moss. So many shades of black and raven blue swirl together that you barely recognize a signpost nearby. It's the grove, but you've never seen it like this, as dark as it can be only at night.

It's uncomfortable to stand barefoot, with a chill creeping up your legs.

After a while your fingers touch the rough bark of a nearby tree to get a sense of direction, and you start walking, because there isn't anything else to do.

There's the bridge, you think. If you just get to the bridge, the rest will be simple.

You're walking there, or that's what you think when a small ball of light appears right before your nose.

Fireflies don't glow blue. It doesn't falter, doesn't flicker, coming up closer then farther like a pendulum. There's something uncanny and fragile about it. For a second you forget everything and stand mesmerized, until it starts moving.

Through the trees, past the branches, onwards.

It's more instinctual than anything ─ you don't want to be left here alone again, so you follow. Light is good, darkness isn't. The ground becomes more uneven as you go, the grass changes to moss, but you can barely register anything at this point apart from that lonely glow. It halts at times as if making sure you're keeping up.

Is that a clearing ahead? Your eyes hurt from trying to focus.

The blue dot continues to float, never speeding up, never falling behind.

Then it disappears.

No. Not disappears ─ settles on the tip of a pale finger.

There's your tomato patch, your plants, the empty box that you forgot to take back to the condo.

But it's impossible.

Your garden should be not very far from the border, yet it feels like you've walked through half of the grove by now.

Why is he here?

"It took you a while," he says, the stranger from the bridge whose eyes made you pause before you caught yourself. "I was waiting, my dear."

Maybe you shouldn't ask. Maybe the wisest thing would be to turn around and run. You step back and trip on a root which somehow snuck between the moss. He catches your hand before you fall and doesn't let go. Instead his thumb caresses your skin in leisurely strokes.

There's a faint scent of lilies coming from him, and something else. Something heavy, equally sweet that lingers on the edge of cloying and enticing.

Smells aren't supposed to be so strong in dreams.

"I need to go."

"Where?"

This simple question asked in an equally plain tone makes you falter. What does he mean 'where'?

"Home," you say softly and try to free your hand again without success. The man leans in close enough that you can see his face, illuminated by that blue light.

"And where is home?"

"I-" you swallow. "I have to go."

He releases you with surprising ease; you don't waste any time rushing towards the path. The long walk has exhausted you, and the lack of light makes it difficult to tell which turns to take. You stumble multiple times. The hem of your nightdress catches a few twigs. You sprint past the trees, past the low bushes along the familiar trail, and it's there, suddenly in front of you: the wooden bridge.

Out of breath, you grab the railing. And then open your eyes on the same side where you started.

How?

Again and again, you dash across it, yet every time there's a single step left to cross over the stream, the view shifts. Your feet land at the beginning of the bridge. On the ninth time when it's impossible to run any longer, you press your forehead to the railing. Every breath feels short and raspy.

"That's enough, dear."

"What is this?" You grip the planks with trembling hands. "I don't understand. Why can't I-"

A coat falls over your shoulders; you clutch at it mindlessly, because it's warm and you're shaking all over.

"You thanked me. Claimed my land, charmingly audacious of you. Such care and love, right under my nose."

There's no malice in his voice. Gently, finger by finger, he uncurls the tight grip of your hand. The stone is there, cerulean blue like summer sky condensed into a tiny orb.

"Took my gift and kept it close to your heart."

It takes some effort but eventually you manage to speak. "I didn't," you whisper urgently, despite the shiny proof in your palm. "I didn't know! Take it back."

"I'm afraid it's too late for that."

"I didn't know!"

He lifts you in his arms when your knees give out and you sink to the ground, still gripping that damned stone. His coat carries the same distinct scent of lilies and heavy sweetness. The sceneries you dreamed of when younger pop in your head, like old postcards covered with dust, of mystical beings hidden from human eye, fantastical places no one has seen, grand adventures where heroes defy impossible odds and come out victorious.

Those were tales for the brave and imaginative. You're neither.

"It doesn't matter. The land claims you," he says. "And so do I."

[icarusredwings]

Silence

In an alternate universe.. Where Wade let Francis live, hoping it'll make him a better person. Hoping.. that by listening to Colossus.. just this one-time ...life wouldn't screw him over...

Chapter 1.

Francis Forever

Tw: Blood, intense codependency, feral behavior, discrimination, PTSD attacks, sleep issues, crying, derealization.

A 900 follower special.

Something wasn't right.

He picked this up about a week ago. The never leaving feeling that something was wrong.

Sure, Wade left for work trips. It wasn't uncommon. But it's been 8 days. Not a call. Not a voicemail, not a text saying he's okay. He hasn't even shared a stupid tiktok to him since.

Al told him not to worry so much, That Wade can take care of himself. That he has been since he moved in with her. “It's not like he can die.” She had said but something deep within Logan's chest felt flipped, uneasy and heavy. He knew she was just trying to calm him down but with each day that passed he became more restless.

He's tried calling. He's texted. He's messaged him on every social media account he knew of, even emailing him. Nothing. None at all.

It happened about 6 Days ago. When he sat up from their bed in the middle of the night, alone, with a devastating feeling in his gut. Like someone had just told him that all of the love he felt was in danger.

The last time he remembered feeling this way was when he thought his brother had killed his wife.

He's been trying to lay his head back down to sleep but instead he was pacing around the apartment at 3 am like a caged animal, trained to stay within these four walls, mentally somewhere far away.

“Go Take a walk. Because if not, you’re gonna burn a hole in our floor.” She told the man.

The dirty glare (at least, that's what she assumed) made her roll her eyes.

“I'm serious, It's not good for you to be cooped up like this. You've checked the window 17 times within the last hour, Logan.” The way she said his name was soft, the affection of a wise old woman.

“Yeah, sure, like you're going to get your deposit back anyway.” He growls back, as if only hearing the first part. It wasn't like Logan to be rude to Althea. Even when pissed off, so this was odd. She now understands the severity of the situation.

“Look, I'm sure everything is fine and he just forgot to charge his phone. You know how dumb that little psychopath can be. Once he was gone for 3 months and came back just fine.” She mutters to him.

Beginning to feel a snarl raise up in his throat, Logan grunts, shaking his head. He wanted to tell her to shut up. That she didn't understand because she didn't have a husband. That she didn't have anyone that loved her the way he loved Wade and he hasn't felt this worried over someone in decades. But he swallowed that. His mother raised him better… if he didn't have anything kind to say.. not to say it.

“...”

“And take the mutt with you, she's been dying to go to the park.”

About to decline, the dog brought the leash to him, wagging her tail hard from the sheer word “park” alone.

“Fine!....come on mary..”

Even walking the dog down the street, his pace was too quick, her little legs struggling to keep up as he growled, uneasy. He didn't know what to do without him talking to him. Was it always this noisey in the city? Usually Wade would yell over the noise, make jokes about people passing by and holding his hand to keep him grounded. So now what?

He didn't know where to put his hands.

Everyone always says how good he was getting but what did any of that matter if the man who made him better wasn't here to see any of his progress!?

He was trying to become the best version of himself, despite Wade sweetly telling him each night how he was the BEST wolverine because he was HIS wolvie, but he was only the best when with him!! How did he not get that!?

It didn't matter now. None of it did.

Grunting loudly, Logan stops his frustrated fast walk only when he heard Puppins whining and panting, trying hard to keep up. “Sorry..” he tells the dog, picking her up instead, in which she wags her tail, trying to put her tongue in his mouth as a thank you.

“Just because your papa gets to do that doesn't mean you can.” He tells the dog, Who pouts. Why not? She was a deadpool. She knew it. And if her papa got too, why not her?

Logan walks. He walks. And walks. And walks. Until finally something catches his eye. How did he end up here? When were the birds chirping? Since when did the sunlight show through the gaps of tree lines that were lined up on the sidewalk? Oh shit..

It was morning.

‘It's been at least 3 hours’ he thinks, but still he was upset, at least still in New York but found himself somewhere he didn't remember. By the water. Why would he go there? God- How long did he walk? Now he has to walk all the way home. And poor puppins? She didn't even want to come on this stupid trip and- he catches a scent.

“Wade?”

Sniffing more, the smell was off, as if he put on sea salt and air pollution perfume but his excitement clouded his judgment. “Wade!”

Shoving Mary into his flannel, he runs to the end of the street, stopping with a skirt of his boots, nose to the air and has the stance of a hound dog standing on its hind legs to smell for a coon in a tree. The moment he got another whiff, he darted in the other direction- into traffic.

Jumping over (and damaging) the hood, the driver shouted, waving a fist at him. “You damn mutie!! Look what you did to my car!!”

Puppins growled from hearing the word, letting out a few angry yips as Logan kept going, zig zagging through the lanes until he was on the sidewalk again, managing by the skin of his teeth.

Panting, he took deep breaths, huffing as his nose twitched. “Fuck! Where did- There.” He says to himself, the hairs on the back of his neck and arms raising as he catches just a sniff over the hot dog stand next to him.

His eyes widen, a toothy grin coming over him as he sees a lady in red with heavy make up. Now- Don't get him wrong, he didn't mind, but he was curious as to why Wade wouldn't answer him if he's- er- she's right there. “Wade!” He calls, but she still doesn't look.

Jogging up to her, the smell got thicker, but something still wasn't right. He could smell the chemicals of the concealer, the wig glue, the cancer, but this perfume wasn't Wade's. And also… When did Wade menstruate?

“Wade?” Logan borderline whimpered, poking his face in front of her, sniffing, only for her to scream and slap him with her purse. Instinctively, he jolts back, tilting his head, now with very sad eyes.

That wasn't Wade… He should have known better.. What's wrong with him? Since when could he not do something as simple as track down someone he's lived with for an entire two years already?

For a moment it hits him. Tears welling up in his eyes, his fists unclenching, ducking his head… he couldn't smell him.. and he didn't recognize this street. He didn't know where home was. And Wade wasn't here to guide him back…

He missed the way he would have grabbed Him by now, told him not to get lost, and joked that they should get him a collar so people don’t think he's a feral stray.

He missed his stupid jokes.

He missed his ever changing textured hands.

He missed his wretched smell of gun smoke, pizza bagels and inner abscesses.

He missed his annoying laugh.

He missed him more than anything.

There was nobody better to help him in this situation, where his vision became blurry, he was shaking, and his claws itched, wanting to pop.

Dipping into an alley, he put his back against the wall, sinking down as he held Mary close, trying to remember the breathing exercises that Wade had taught him, trying to calm himself as he let Puppins lick the salty tears that came from his panicked eyes.

It took his whole life to find out.. but he needed Wade. He needed him. That little katana waving bastard with the crooked smile and such big brown eyes from years ago. The one he would defend from Vic. He needed him. Those frustrating quips didn't seem so bad anymore.

“B-but you knew from the start it was always going to be us, didn't ya? You fucking asshole…” He whispered, Burying his face into his arms, claws unsheathed and bleeding.

Wade knew Logan would need him. Wade knew it from the start. It's why he was so nice to him. That's why he brought him home. It's why he gave Logan a home. A family. And the luxurious comfort of knowing the fridge would never be empty, and he always would have a warm bed to sleep in.

So how could he leave him alone… again..

[captainsbestgal]

I've been on this train for years, and I'm a huge MCU fan. Hell my username is MCU related.

Nothing has gotten me excited for an MCU movie until they dropped the new Captain America trailer. It looks like they're going back to the semi-political thriller genre that they did for the second Captain America film. If that's the case, I'm hyped. But I'm skeptical. I don't exactly trust the MCU to do this story justice. And ffs they had to change the name of the movie cause it was originally pretty antisemitic (a new world order). They also changed the background of a character so she was no longer a Mossad spy, which is a whole other can of worms. Some say they went too far with changing her background while others say they should've just gotten rid of her character all together because she represents a genocidal government.

Thunderbolts looks like it's gonna do my man Bucky dirty, and Agatha has had no appeal to me. From the gifs I've seen it makes me really confused who this show is even for.

This doesn't even get into their failed movie/tv phase post Endgame. Thor 4? Eternals? The Hawkeye TV show? Ms. Marvel? Echo?god theres probably more that im forgetting about. The only ones that I think that were all that good wete Loki, the faclcon and the winter soldier, and wandvision. Loki was good but like theres a second season, and i dont think anyone could tell you what it's about. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, which I adored but apparently no one else did. And WandaVision which I think may have been their best show by far, but they really clung onto Agatha when I think having a show about the CIA guy that Randall Park played wouldve been more fun. Like him running around the US, investigating superhumans or local super heroes would've been really cool.

I know this was a major throw things at the wall and see what sticks era, with Ironman dying and Steve Roger's going back in time they had little to no main characters left. But they really oversaturated the market with characters and none really had the magic that the OG movies had. Even those left from the OG movies are no longer appealing. Like who REALLY saw the 4th Thor movie?

They fucked it up themselves and they're trying HARD to unfuck it (ie Robert Downey Jr. coming back as a villian).

Tldr Marvel didn't think their cinematic universe through and is floundering now.

it's so insane the the mcu is still making new shit. like stop it already. go home. who is still watching.

[lialuvsaven]

Happy Birthday, Aventurine!!

“Aventurine always tries not to remember. He's never synced the Sigonian calendar system to check the date in trailblaze calendar, never makes the mistake of dwelling on the memories surrounding this day— even when he's too drunk to remember his own name. Done everything possible to not acknowledge it; because this day feels like nothing but a curse to him.

Unfortunately, Jade has now ensured that he never gets to forget his birthday, again.”

Pairing: Aventurine x reader

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Comfort in the end to compensate for everything else ❤️ Reader is not physically present in the fic (they're not dead it's ok)

wc: 3.3k

Aventurine was abruptly interrupted by a knock on the door just as the sun began to slant westward.

With a sigh, he puts down the pen and glances at the wall clock. The hands on the parchment-shaped monstrosity read 1 pm, but his eyes are drawn back to the purple tongue protruding from its massively extended mouth. Seriously, where does Stelle find these items? "An ugly, purple parchment shaped wall clock that looks like it's ready to eat people"— isn't something most people would think to give him, to say the least. But that's the thing—it was Stelle.

She claimed to have found it during one of her "excavations." And even though Miss March 7th did her best to keep her friend from going into further details, stepping on Stelle's toes right in front of him and giving her a sidelong glance, as if he wouldn't notice, he could tell what kind of "excavations" would turn up something like this. Not like he minds the origins of this gift, however. Gifts from friends are few and far to come by, especially ones who actually tolerate him. Not to mention, Stelle likely sincerely believes that it's a cool gift, which is why it has replaced the diamond-embedded wall clock on his wall.

His musings are interrupted by a second knock, which, like the first one, reverberates once around the room before fading away in embarrassment. "Come in." He announces, reclining back in his seat and looking at the door with expectation in his eyes. It was not uncommon for his secretary to appear randomly in his office, constantly fussing over yet another minor issue. He believed it was her; at least, his itinerary showed he didn't have any guest visits today. Maybe it was time to replace assistants—the new hire is clearly not on the same wavelength as him. But he'd only recently had Topaz yell at him for changing staff so frequently; he'd prefer not to tell her that her choice was horribly disappointing just yet.

With a tiny bag bearing a brand he is all too acquainted with, the secretary enters the office. She keeps her gaze fixed on the floor the entire time, hence doesn't notice when her supervisor raises an eyebrow at the sight of his favorite jewelry brand. "Sir," she says in a low, somewhat flat voice, akin to that of a news reporter. "Earlier, a staff of Madam Jade stopped by. You have a present."

A grin appears on Aventurine's face, followed by a joyful chuckle. With how busy work has been lately, he'd almost forgotten when he asked Jade for a pink diamond, as has Jade apparently, seeing how long it's taken for her to send this. His request was a joke, of course, only meant to irritate Topaz. But he wasn't surprised either; Jade always takes good care of her weaponry. "Ahhh, no wonder!" He chirps and presses his palms together. "She must've finally found some generosity in her heart, hm?" He muses, and his assistant can only stand there stoically. He waves her off as she places the bag on his table and departs with an unnecessary low bow, never looking at his eyes once. As always.

When the secretary has left the room, he opens the bag, humming as he removes the box and gift card. Jade's handwriting is distinctive: prim and precise cursive that resembles a font.

"Happy birthday, Aventurine. This jewel would suit you far better than the pink diamond you asked for, don't you think?" — Jade

Kakavasha freezes. His birthday, she says, but she'd need to align the standard calendar system to the Sigonian one to find that out. She sent him a…..….a gift? For his birthday? 

Is this a fucking joke?

The box reveals a chunk of corundum. Raw, uncut, pink and blue hues all over. Shades way too close to his eyes, and it doesn't take a gemologist to tell that Jade had done her searching thoroughly to obtain this. A jewel the color of his eyes, the color of Avgin eyes, neatly wrapped in a box for….to send ..what sort of message, exactly? Oh Avgin, never forget who you were before I found you—unpolished and undeserving. forget your name, but never your roots.  

The note is crumpled and thrown in the trashcan, while the corundum and its box are hastily and carelessly pushed back into the bag. Really, so typical of Jade, he scoffs as he tosses the godforsaken bag into a random drawer, never to be seen again. 

Kakavasha— no, Aventurine always tries not to remember. He's never synced the Sigonian calendar system to check the date in trailblaze calendar, never makes the mistake of dwelling on the memories surrounding this day— even when he's too drunk to remember his own name. Done everything possible to not acknowledge it; because this day feels like nothing but a curse to him.

Unfortunately, Jade has now ensured that he never gets to forget, again. 

In any case, Aventurine concludes that it is not good for him to worry about this too much. Yes, he can just forget about the corundum. Yes, he is able to forget how it resembled Avgin eyes. Yes, he can also forget that Jade most likely sent this to "keep him in check" following the stunt he did in Penacony. But it was a mistake on his part to not see something coming. She had done this before, and it would not be the last time. He smiles at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror, composed, shrewd, and calculated. Since a mirror has the freedom of choice, it does not return his smile.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

By the time the car comes to a stop in front of his house, Aventurine is exhausted. His chauffeur unlocks the door for him, and he makes his way to the elevator. Yet he's interrupted again— of course, because it's a cursed day, and Aventurine has to restrain himself from scowling at the gateman, who stands in front of him wearing an anxious expression. "Sir, your friend had visited earlier to drop off something."

He raises an eyebrow and is about to inquire when he notices the bag the man is carrying. Without saying anything further, he simply takes the bag. You are the only one who'd own a dumb clockie bag and the only one who'd ever drop things off at his place.

When he steps in, his three catcakes meow loudly to greet him, and feels somewhat grateful for it. Today was just too exhausting, after all. He understands what this is about, based on the fact that you always give him gifts in person. Why, of all days, would you consider dropping it off today? And with no advanced notice- completely unlike you. How annoying, did Jade really have to do this too? He's never disclosed his birthday to you, so you probably coerced her into telling you, and she was glad to oblige, given you are of value to her.

Aventurine doesn't realize he's been standing in the kitchen for a long time until Spade begins massaging its fluffy body on his legs. He is surrounded by his three catcakes, who are all staring up at him expectantly. The message is crystal clear: We Want Food. He moves swiftly to get their food bowls, chuckling to himself before setting your lunchbox on the counter, sort of as an afterthought. At least they'll be able to go to bed well fed tonight. 

After serving them dinner, he leaves the kitchen carrying a bottle of wine, hoping to spend the remainder of the evening crashing on the couch. He can just leave everything else for tomorrow. The benefit of drinking is that it can temporarily impair your ability to sense emotions. He only needs a short term fix, after all. Come tomorrow, he'll take hangover pills, and walk out of this house as Aventurine of the stratagems again— undoubtedly.

He turns on a random B-grade movie, prepared to drink the night away. And he does precisely that—he pushes down thoughts of how his childhood friends, whose features now misty in his memories, would react if they were to see him. With another shot, he pushes down recollections of his mother's cooking—the special meals for the Kakava—and his birthday. Another to accept the now-blurry face of his sister in his memory as the only proof of her existence. Another to forget the clay dolls she'd made for him, on the last birthday kakavasha got to celebrate, that were broken when he had to run for his life. And one more shot, and another, till he's forgotten everything; till he's numb and emotionless.

Feeling empty and hollow is far worse than anything else, and being unable to cry isn't as pleasant as he thought it'd be. But in his lavish home, where gold abounds in every nook and cranny, he has little reason for tears. Money may not be able to buy him happiness, as he is well aware, but it certainly does spare him from ugly tears unfit for his visage. Maybe that's why he hasn't cried in a while, or perhaps he has simply lost his soul somewhere along the way. He stays on the couch till 3 am, accompanied by his pets. He pretends not to see the troubled looks they shoot at him, whispered words passed between them that are clearly about him. By the time he decides to rest for the night, he is fatigued, sluggish, and barely keeping it together.

When he gets up to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, Ace makes a protesting noise before promptly shutting up. Catcakes are smart creatures, and they understand him better than most individuals in his life (or maybe the difference lies in care) His throat is dry, and ice cold water from the freezer provides enormous relief. However, the respite is taken away from him by the crackling lightning, loud as a whip, pulling out memories up to the forefront of his mind again. Of the lightning without the rain, of Sigonia-IV. The drumming of the thunder is largely hidden by the concrete walls, so it isn't as hard on the ear—but it aches a lot more than it did before. Aventurine sneers to himself, dismissing the idea as ludicrous. As if.

The second time the thunder sizzles, Aventurine has to take a sharp breath and grip the countertop to steady himself. It sounds like playing dead in the bleeding streams of Sigonia-IV, like the booming cackle of the mocking thunder. Had he been an insolent child, just a little more doubtful than he already was, he'd believe it was Mama Fenge herself laughing at her so called "blessed child". The thunder sounds similar, but it's not the same. No, because this is still Aventurine and he's still here and those are someone else's memories, forgotten and buried in sand.

Aventurine sighs.

Drinking too much has never done any good to him.

Just as he is ready to leave the kitchen, he notices the lunchbox sitting the counter out of the corner of his eye. Oh, right. He hadn't even touched it. A distraction doesn't seem bad now, though. If he wants to fabricate a plausible lie about eating the food, he would at least need to know what kind of food you sent. If the mental image of your frown after discovering he never even looked at what you sent is what gives him the final push , he would never admit it.

The lunchbox has a plains bear cub logo: you've always been a sucker for cute things. He sets aside the little note attached for later this time, preferring to taste the dinner first. It looks like you chose to make him some kind of soup. Insulated lunchboxes are a blessing— because it's surely been well over half a day since you made it, yet it's still warm. While the presentation is relatively simple, it smells strangely comforting— effect of some potion? He's heard of those, but they're usually used for sick patients, no? Other than that, this is the first homemade meal he's having in a….while. Not that it matters. Aventurine isn't picky, and while the leafy greens are unfamiliar to him, he believes he can handle at least a tablespoon.

Even the largest avalanche can be triggered by the smallest of things. Just one spoonful, and yet it's enough to make his world stop.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

The dry, broken soil scraped against his bare feet, producing little clouds of dust in its wake. His strides were light and rapid, nearly tripping over himself with excitement and giddiness. Just a little more, and he'll reach the finish line. Even the Sun's typical glare felt kind today; warm and tender against his tanned skin. Jumping over the homemade hurdles, he reaches the finish line far ahead of his friends. They protest and pout, and he taunts them with the biggest smile on his face. The soles of his feet feel slightly sore from running barefoot, but Kakavasha wouldn't risk destroying his only pair of shoes for a game. 

When he hears his sister's voice calling for him, he rushes to embrace her and buries his face in her apron. His mother once told him that the Avgins all possess lovely voices, but Kakavasha believes his sister's is the best, especially when she laughs.

"And when will you listen to me and stop running around in the middle of the day, hm?" She pinches his nose and uses her apron to wipe the dirt off his face. Kakavasha beams at her with no regrets, proudly displaying the gap between his teeth. Once kakavasha had said his goodbyes to his friends, they walk hand in hand towards their tent.

There, his mother welcomes them with a warm embrace that smells like creosote bush and desert rain. “My darling," she coos, putting his small hands in her larger ones, rough from labour. "I remember you promised to be on time for lunch last time?" He grins cheekily, vowing not to do it again. (He's a repeat offender, but he knows that his mother and sister can't stay upset at him for long.)

His mother laughs, and tells him to tidy up before eating. Kakavasha's tummy is grumbling by the time he returns, and he finds the mats his sister laid down to sit on. The two siblings sit next to each other, chatting and giggling as they wait for their mother. She serves them a pot of hot soup with nettle leaves and lentils, just the way Kakavasha prefers it. He's overjoyed; quickly finishing his prayers before digging in. Kakavasha is a growing boy, and that's proved again when he finishes his bowl before his family.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

The soup she'd served him back then wasn't anything lavish; just a simple soup with local herbs and nettle leaves in a broth that smelt so uniquely of hers. His mama may have had a knack for cooking, but due to a lack of opportunities and resources, she never got to demonstrate her abilities. Compared to that, your food is much finer, and while excellent, it lacks the warmth of his mother's hands.  

Nevertheless, he can't resist taking another spoonful and quickly putting it in his mouth because the familiarity is so, so palpable. He recalls that his sister wanted him to eat better, so she gave him half of her portion after he finished his. His mother then gave his sister half of her portion, as they are Both growing children. All of a sudden, the bickering, the laughs, and their voices are as plain as day in his mind. He can't fully recall the glitter in his sister's eyes or the dimple on his mother's cheek, but it's clearer than any other memory he had of them, that's for sure. 

Aventurine can't stop crying, even if he wants to. Trying to halt the choking sobbing is fruitless, as is trying to figure out what's going on. He picks up the little message with shaking hands, hoping—praying—that it will help. You'll make it make sense. Somehow.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“Dear Aventurine, I hope you have a wonderful birthday!!!!”  

Written in thin, flowing, rounded letters that are noticeably cleaner than your actual handwriting. You undoubtedly put a lot of effort into each letter you wrote. Aventurine was correct in assuming you found out his birthday through Jade, as you have written it here. "Buying a gift for you seems…a little perfunctory," you said, "so I've settled with cooking you something myself."

"And if the dish tastes familiar (which I hope it does) then yes, you've guessed it right— it's a traditional Avgin dish."

The perfumed ink is thicker here, a few ink blots from where you've likely paused to think, go over each sentence in your head before writing them down.

You mention finding the Avgin dishes by reading some kind of research paper on Sigonian culture and food, but Aventurine isn't sure he can believe that. You wrote, "I was fortunate enough," yet chance alone wouldn't get you something like that. Sure, maybe some doctoral candidate was crazy enough to choose a dead planet and its deader tribes to write about, but finding that paper would be too difficult. The biggest issue, however, is that Aventurine believes this dish should not and cannot exist. The stinging nettle leaves his mother used are no longer available, and while he didn't know much about cooking at the time, he was aware that all of the spices he knew were almost extinct. He's looked enough to know.

"I'll be honest, I had some trouble locating the ingredients for it and had to swap the majority of them because I couldn't find them. I really wanted to bring back a familiar feeling, even if it tastes very different from how you remember it. Plus, it's the thought that counts, right?"

In contrast to the light-hearted language, your writing is slightly wobbly and darker here, and Aventurine wonders if you realise your emotions seep through every single one of your actions, laid bare for the world to see.

Noting the disappearance of their owner, curious, the catcakes peep into the kitchen are immediately alarmed to see their owner sitting on the counter stool, sobbing and clutching a box. Spade, unsure of what to do, nuzzles it's head on Aventurine's leg, while the others meow in an attempt to calm him down. Aventurine hasn't sobbed in a long time—he can't remember how to anymore. His body shakes with each ragged and broken sob, sounding shattered and damaged, but he can't stop.

"I hope it brings you fond memories" is what you wrote down, but are you aware of the full impact of what you did for him? Most likely not. Aventurine cherishes all of his memories, including the unpleasant ones: as long as it involves his family. His misery knows no bounds, but he's only had a few years with his sister, and even fewer with his mother. So even the saddest memories are never forgotten, so he can preserve as much of them as possible. They live through his memories, after all. 

Even when plain, his mother's meals provided him with more warmth than anything else back then. To feel that warmth decades later is a blessing he can't repay— but a blessing nonetheless. He doesn't have many memories like this one either, gentle and happy, contrary to the endless memories of struggling. He remembers their love so vividly right now, feels it so strongly, alongside yours— that he has no choice but to revel in it.

(Come tomorrow , when he's sober, puffy-eyed from crying and not as vulnerable, he'll have trouble figuring your reasoning. But for now, he'll be fine. Tonight, he'll go to sleep feeling loved. Tonight, his pets will cuddle him to sleep. Tonight, he'll dream of a Sigonia Only he knows.)

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

A/N: I'm honestly still so embarrassed about this bc I have an idea but can't execute it like I want to and 🫠🫠 As always, comments and reblogs are really appreciated!! Thank you for reading <3

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

Ok but, but—if Telemachus mistakenly believes his dad and Poseidon to be friends and Odysseus and Poseidon are forced to hang out because of him, would the lines between pretend and not pretend blur after several years? Like would they eventually start having at least a little fun with each other and then later be absolutely horrified by that (especially Poseidon, bc what is this, his hatred is no longer as all consuming as it used to be?? Who authorized that??)

And eventually Odysseus just goes "Yk that offer to learn forgiveness still stands" while wearing the most shit-eating grin ever (Penelope predicted this development several years ago)

yeah!!! ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ i would like to think that they do eventually end up having a real friendship rather than just a fake one

and yes of course penelope could see it coming a mile off!

they both would be internally like "oh gods why?!" at first.

but then they both realise that maybe just maybe they actually enjoy each others company and their bickering turns into banter & laughter.

telemachus just now thinks their best friends rather than just friends shdjhdfjds

penelope is happy that after all the trauma those two caused each other, they can finally put it behind them. she loves seeing her husband actually laugh and enjoy himself. also she definitely says i told you so, many times to odysseus face about her earlier predictions.

as for odysseus & athena's friendship. even after their past breakup falling out, i like to think that odysseus is initially really worried about admitting he regards poseidon as an actual friend now. he's worried that even though she has changed, that maybe befriending her uncle (the god she has had a long rivalry with) is a step too far again.

to his surprise though, she's actually happy for odysseus and proud that he was able to actually befriend the earth-shaker himself. this time she's glad odysseus did not push his emotions aside and opened his heart for friendship & forgiveness.

what odysseus didn't expect though, was that the 'king of ithaca's and god of the seas' friendship' would be a hot topic in olympus itself.

suddenly ithaca's palace has more uninvited visits from other gods and goddess. the mortal king who was instrumental in winning the trojan war, who battled with monsters and gods alike... became friends with the god who caused him to take 10 years to get home?

he had already been talked about amongst the gods during those 10 years, but now they were all even more curious as he has gone from brutally defeating poseidon to becoming friends???

poseidon however was not happy with their interest in ithaca and especially odysseus. that was his (and athena's, but mostly his) mortal friend gods damn it!

(im sorry this ended up being a long reply, my brain wouldn't stop yapping away hhdhdhdh)

(please if you have any futher thoughts, please please please share/add them ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀) )

[coulsons-left-arm]

Just think about it, though...

Daisy is laying in a hospital bed, asleep. Coulson has a predisposition to stay at her bedside, especially if she hasn't woken up since coming out of surgery.

When she first wakes up, her brain feels like soup because those pain meds are working their magic almost a little too well. There's a man next to her bed, and she recognizes him as someone she feels safe with, so she says his name.

"Dad?"

Mmmmmm, that doesn't seem right. That's not his name. That's not usually what I call him.... Right?

It seems to catch his attention, though, as he smiles shyly and leans forward a bit, grabbing her hand gently. It's warm and solid and safe, encompassing her whole hand.

"Daisy? How're you feeling?"

How does she feel? Everything is hard to pinpoint, but she knows two things for sure.

"Sleepy, but better now that I've got pain meds and you here." Or maybe that's three things... She gives him a dopey smile, one that she thinks probably looks like one of the many she's seen on his face. It probably does look like his because the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, right?... Or wait, is she even hi--

He seems to give a breathy chuckle, reaching a hand to move some of her loose hair behind her ear. The warmth seems to calm the soft pounding in her head, so she leans into it. And to her satisfaction, his hand seems to stay close, his slightly calloused thumb rubbing back and forth on her cheekbone.

His presence is warm and safe and all the things that make her drowsy... And she ends up falling back asleep on accident.

~~~~~

When Daisy wakes up again, she's more coherent -- the drugs were wearing off --, and Coulson is now sitting with her. She groans as she tries to wiggle her stiff body. The noise makes Coulson perk up, a little tentative, but still reaches for her hand. It felt... familiar. She decides she likes it, so she doesn't remove her hand from his.

"You're here."

"Of course. Pain meds wearing off?"

"Yeah, but I'll be okay for a little bit. It's good to feel a little pain. And I don't want to be too loopy... Which, do you know if I said anything crazy?" If Daisy didn't know any better, she would've missed the slightest bit of red in his cheeks as he seemed to smile to himself.

"Meh, nothin' too crazy... You may have called me, 'Dad.'"

That was him??? Oh....

"But... Honestly?... Is that too far from the truth?"

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Omg yay!! I'm so excited to dive into your thoughts on Part 2. As you saw, it's a bit of an emotional rollercoaster. 😅

Alright it is devastating right off the bat and I know, I know I should be worried about her and I am. I am SO worried, but my mind completely went somewhere else when Dean PICKED HER UP. The man is so strong and I am just...

LOL girl I don't blame you for being distracted. The mental image of Dean manhandling in Protective Mode does things to me too. 🤣

I was prepared for this coming but dang... "I hope you've learned your damn lesson" is a line that breaks my heart more than I should. It cuts to the quick for me, because to me it's worse than just saying "I told you not to do something." It's not heartless, but it's enough of a rendition of it that it just makes you go "oh wow."

I love this observation. That's exactly what I felt inherently when I was writing that line. It felt more powerful to me than "I told you so" or the like. It has the feeling of that, but with more of an edge, even though you know he cares about her.

I was literally screaming. It's like he wants her to kill him. I know that Dean loves her so much but oh my goodness it's about to get so real for him. Man is about to be torn to shreds.

LMAO I remember someone saw the preview of Part 2 and commented, "the quiet, but devastating anger he'd be reckoned with if he said that to me." And I was like, YEP, that's exactly it. Mans playing with his life. 😅😅😅

You just wanna go:

Even though she's upset, Dean is still her best friend and the man she loves and even though he's the one that made her feel this way, she still wants to be comforted by his presence. I always think that, this particular thing is so bittersweet to read about in relationships. Or at least that's how I took this bit 😅.

That's precisely how I intended it! Now looking back, I feel like I should have had her leave him by himself in his room to sleep in another room. But at the time I was writing, I was thinking that for her in particular, despite this being the biggest fight they've had so far in their relationship, he's still the one that makes her feel safe after a bad hunt. 💙

Side note: I am happy that the reader didn't have to tell the woman about her son. That would have broken me to read that especially after the reader promised that they would find her son in part one.

Oh my God, yeah. I considered having her be the one to face her "mistake" and talk to the mother, but I felt that having Sam take that on would be better, even as it added to the reader's guilt (and it would keep the story moving).

Oh my word. I love you friend, but WHY!? Dang it, this pricked at my heart. It's so good, so heart wrenching. I feel so bad for him, but it really just reinforces why he "lost it" with the reader earlier. Goodness the trope of the reader getting yelled at by someone who loves them about putting themselves in danger really is just such a good one for Dean and you do it so well.

Lmaooo I knowww, I'm sorry! All the angsty feels in this one. 😭 Now you see the full weight of why Dean popped off the way he did. He just feels things so deeply, it comes out sometimes in anger, when at the root of it all, it's fear.

Thank you though for that compliment! I think this is the only time I've written that Dean trope. Because I honestly think it's overused, but I tried to do it in a way that made sense for the ultimate growth of their relationship and who Dean is.

His apology is really just pricking at my heart. It's so good, so forthcoming so honest. And the thought that he was "better off alone" is so on brand for him. I know that we've talked about that before, but it really does fit him, and I love how you weave it into this fic.

Aww thank you! 😭😭 Weirdly enough, that was one of my favorite parts to write? Maybe I just like the heartfelt hurt/comfort breaking into fluff moments. The "better off alone" thing I thought was implied throughout the later seasons of the show after Dean lets go of Lisa and Ben, so I wanted to explore that deeper here, even though it hurt my heart to write it. 💙

She's crying... I'm crying. It's really just tears all around and such a good moment. Also the him saying "You don't have to cry for that"... YES SHE DOES.

Everyone's crying!! 😭 YES ABSOLUTELY SHE DOES -- and she's a verified crier. I see a lot of fics where the reader is tough as nails, "doesn't cry very often," but I wanted to create a reader character who is a badass, but still has a soft heart. (Latinas also can be very emotional, but not to say we're adhering to stereotypes around here LOL. 🤣🤣)

This is just overall a really wonderful vulnerable moment that you've captured that feels real for both the reader and Dean. Especially when she talks about "working with my heart, not my head." I think that if it were me, I would also be "working with my heart." I don't think that I'd be able to take myself emotionally out of the situation that they're in all the time because they're hunters.

Thank you so much!! 🙏🏽🥹🥹 Yeah same, and it's definitely a contrast with Dean, who obviously cares about helping people and takes way too much responsibility on his shoulders, but he's been doing this so long and seen so much that he's learned to compartmentalize a bit more.

Hoping for some FORESHADOWING 🙏🏻👀

Oh girl yesss! If you make it to the last two stories in the series, remember this moment. 😏💜

Also the salsa lesson is just so cute. And the way you took a really emotional moment to a cute salsa dance to a steamy session to a giggly awkward moment is great. The transitions make it seamless. And the song choices were perfect! When the reader was describing what the song meant I was like, "oh yeah, that's him right there. There's the man officer." lmao 🤣

Ahaha thank you so much!! I LOVE me some salsa music, and it was a fun challenge to try and transition between these scenes. From one writer to another, I always appreciate those "technical" observations. 💓💓💓

Oh big YEP!! "Devorame Otra Ves" was the first song I thought of when the salsa idea came. Dean, in fact, is that guy. 🤣🤣

I was again so emotional reading this, because oh my word, poor Dean just reliving the moments where the reader almost died.

Sorry for jerking the angsty chain again there! 🤣 Poor guy, he went through an ordeal just as much as she did.

And also the final scene 👀🌶️ I should have known from the gif at the beginning tbh lol.

LMAO Oh yeah, the gif was a dead giveaway for what was coming later on. 😏 And thank you for shouting out the “What, now you’re shy?” line! It's a special kind of intimate, I thought, for her to be kind of embarrassed about what she's just done, but Dean like, "uh-uh, you're not getting away that easily." 😂😂

Also I love you for using a Chicago Fire gif!! loll Was a big fan of that show back in the day.

Not to mention that the sex was also giggly towards the end and I really just love that. And the love confessions KNOCKED ME OUT.

Awww thank you! I love me some fun giggly romantic smut. 😂

Fun fact on her confession! When she says I love you twice, she's actually saying it in two different ways:

I love you, you’d said. I love you ("te amo," you're my love) and I love you ("te quiero," you're my family), more than you can believe and understand.

Oh I'm riding a train of emotions, and all of this was so good. Especially Sam walking in on them. I was laughing so hard at Dean's reaction:

Lol but seriously, I really appreciate that, thank you!! This story was definitely an emotional rollercoaster. I'm so glad you enjoyed it though!! 💕 ...And Sam's little mishap LOL. Dean has very little shame -- something he's going to prove later on again in the series. 😂

It's all wonderful my friend! And I can't wait to read another fic from this universe! 😊

Thank you SO very much!! Honestly you don't know how happy it makes me that you're enjoying this series so far -- and spoiling me with such lovely and thoughtful feedback. 🥰💕💕

Devour Me - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader 

Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for. (18+)

AN: Here's Part 2! **Read Devour Me: Part 1

Song Inspo: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique. But really it’s “Ven Devórame Otra Ves” by Lalo Rodriguez. (You’ll see why.) 🤭

Word Count: 5,400

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Blood, character death and violence, smutty smut, angst, Dominican slang, and tons of sexy fluff.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: "Telenovela Style"

Your resulting scream of agony is as unforgiving as the ground when your knees buckle, hitting the hard cement.

Andy grips you with the strength of a monster. 

Then he holds you down as he drinks your blood. 

No matter how you struggle and whimper, you can’t push him off, and you’re getting weaker by the second.

Until Andy is ripped away from your neck, and is taken care of the way all vampires must be. He doesn’t even feel the blade coming. 

When you’re able to look up, Dean stands above you with thinly veiled fury. He doesn’t have time to consider what he’s just done. 

He bends to gather you up into his arms, all the while trying to stamp down the panic clenching his heart. He calls your name, but you can only make weak sounds as your bleary eyes meet his. 

“Dean,” you manage. The ragged wound in your neck is bleeding profusely down your chest and shoulder, seeping into your shirt. He takes your hand and clamps it hard against your neck, even though it makes you whimper.

“Gotta stop the bleeding,” he says, apologetic but firm. “Keep pressing.”

In your stupor of pain, you don’t realize that your screech woke the entire nest. Dean has to lock up his worry; he looks up and finds his brother and Cas already fighting a hoard of angry vampires. 

Dean carries you over to them and lays you down against the wall with the other humans. He keeps a protective line in front of you, but he decapitates a vampire before she can sink her fangs into Sam next.

The two of them work together, and with Castiel’s smiting power behind them, the angel and the two men are able to clear the rest of the nest. 

By the end, only you and two of the women being held captive are still alive. The third girl’s heart just finally gave out. Sam takes the survivors to the nearest hospital. 

Meanwhile, Castiel approaches where you sit up against the inside of the barn, barely awake, while Dean kneels with you, holding you to his chest. He meet’s Cas’s blue-eyed request with a nod. So Cas stretches out a hand and touches two fingers to your forehead. 

You’re healed in an instant. Dean marvels, like he always does when Cas displays his power. Dean is able to breathe a little easier, the vice grip on his heart easing as he touches your neck.

The tan skin is once again smooth, if still stained with blood. You blink back into wakeful consciousness. 

He shifts so he can see your face. “You okay?” 

You meet his eyes but can only nod. His jaw is still tight and tense, and you can’t blame him. 

You know you’ve messed up. Big time. You nearly got everyone killed, including yourself…and now, you have to tell a mother that her son is dead. 

Dean helps you up, holding you by your arms and waist until you’re steady on your feet. You have a hard time meeting his eyes, but when open your mouth to apologize, he beats you to it. 

“I hope you’ve learned your damn lesson,” he says. 

Your gaze snaps up to his. “Excuse me?”

Dean’s hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you. 

“Next time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,” he all but growls. 

You tilt your head at him as your irritation begins to spark. Meanwhile, Castiel is the one who backs up as he glances between you and Dean uncertainly.

“I made a mistake, but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do,” you shoot back. “I was a hunter long before I met you.” 

“Yeah, well, color me surprised that you’ve made it this long,” he snaps. 

Your temper flares hotter. “You know, you’re not so goddamn perfect either.” 

“Never said I was,” Dean says. “But when my gut tells me something ain’t right, I need you to fucking listen. Otherwise, we get a day like today.”

His words are edged with grit by the end of his little rant, and you don’t appreciate it. Your lips purse in anger.

“I don’t care what that legendary gut tells you,” you sass back. “I’m not a little girl, and you’re not my damn father!”

Dean raises incredulous brows at the way you’re shouting at him. He crosses his arms. 

“What’s this, some kind of Latina temper?” he asks snidely. 

You truly become incensed at that. 

“Oh, you want to take it there?” you ask, as your eyes narrow. “Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Dean won’t admit it, but in that moment, he’s a bit intimidated by the quiet threat in your voice. Still, his fuse is lit, and he’s way beyond curbing his internal filter.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?” he snarks. 

You let out an incredulous breath. Your eyes begin to sting.

“You’re such an asshole!” you shout back. There, understand that?

You turn away from him before your frustrated tears can fall, but you stop short once you notice Castiel dragging out the bodies of the dead…including Andy. Your throat constricts, and you begin to stalk out of the barn. 

Dean calls your name in frustration. 

“What?” you hiss. 

The only thing that makes him hesitate is seeing the state of you when you turn back around. His anger crumbles, and maybe something in him breaks when he sees your tears. They’ve welled up in your eyes, and a few of them carve a path down your cheeks. 

You’re still covered in your own blood, and he hates it. He hates it more than anything. 

Later, you see the state of yourself when Sam returns with the Impala. In the reflection on the backseat window, you see the blood dried down your neck, staining nearly half of your shirt.

You see the black rings of your mascara and eyeliner around your eyes. You look a mess, and you try to wipe underneath your eyes. It’s a fruitless effort.

After you all finish burning the bodies, Dean starts the long drive home. You insist on stopping to tell Rachel Campbell about her son, but Sam says he already took care of it when he drove into town. 

You frown, but you no longer have the energy to be angry. You further withdraw into yourself, and your lower lip trembles as you look out the window. Through the rearview mirror, Dean sees more tears slipping down your face.

What Sam told him (but he won’t tell you), is what one of the survivors said. One of the mated pairs had taken Andy…to “adopt” a son of their own. 

That night is quiet and tense in Dean’s room. You have to wash your hair all over again, and scrub the blood and grime from your body until only your skin remains. But you don’t have the energy to do more than braid your wet hair afterwards and pull on your lucky Journey shirt, which is still full of holes. 

Dean knows that it’s bad when you need the “dreamcatcher,” as he’s called it in his head. You’ve never had a nightmare while wearing that shirt, or so you claimed a while back. 

You wear it over some long pajama pants instead of your usual shorts, or better yet, nothing at all. But he can see what kind of mood you’re in. Things are unsettled as you both get ready for bed in silence. 

He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you could’ve gone to your old room.

So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that you’re still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space. 

He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.

In the morning, Dean’s woken by the familiar smell of coffee…and the less familiar sound of loud salsa music. 

What the fuck?

After he brushes his teeth, he puts on his robe and slippers and heads down to the kitchen, where he finds you in a seemingly better mood. You’re mopping the floor, of all things. You’re out of your pajamas, instead wearing a loose shirt that falls off your shoulder and some spandex shorts. 

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo,” you sing softly along with the music as you dance from the kitchen to the living room. Your phone is connected to a Bluetooth speaker on the coffee table. 

Dean starts to smile, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway to watch you.

At an instrumental break with a run of conga drums and trumpets, you pause in your mopping to do a little twirl as you dance, with a soulful roll of hips and a flair of salsa steps. It makes Dean’s smile kick up into a smirk.

He walks in on purposefully light feet until he’s sidled up behind you in the living room.

“Nice moves, Shakira,” he quips. 

It startles a shriek of surprise out of you as you whirl around. Dean’s smile hikes up into a grin, but it soon fades when he remembers the way your scream rang through his ears last night. The way his heart dropped into his stomach, and his head swiveled at the sound. And he saw you go down hard. 

Then the rest of it tumbles through his mind—what he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How he’d did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when he’d grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself. 

“You trying to give me a heart attack?” you ask with a hand on your heart. 

Dean forces himself to smile a little. “Sorry. But might I remind you, not everyone here’s an early bird.”

You give him a wry look.

“You’re the only one around here who sleeps past 10 a.m. Cas dipped out a while ago, and Sam’s on a run.” 

But you graciously grab your phone to lower the music to a more bearable level. Dean doesn’t yet know this about you, but this—listening to music, dancing, cleaning—it’s all your way of coping…and releasing as much of your pain, terror, and regret from yesterday as possible. 

You then look up at him more guarded. The two of you exchanged a lot of unsavory words last night. In fact, it may just be the worst fight you two have ever had in almost three years of knowing one another.  

Dean senses the shift in you, and his amusement fades. He just can't let things stay like this. He won't.

He hazards drawing closer and touching your arm.

“Look…I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday. I know I was being a dick,” he says. “You’ve just gotta understand something.”

You wait for him to continue with furrowed brows, sensing that whatever he’s about to say is hard for him. 

“There’s a reason I don’t do this. The uh, relationship thing,” Dean continues, clearing his throat. His thumb swipes along your arm. “It’s not just this job. It’s my fucked up life. I tried to warn you before—” 

“Dean,” you say with a sigh, but he raises his hand. 

“Please, just…let me say it,” he says. “You know the spiel. But things can change on a dime. Even on a damn milk run, like a dusty nest of vamps.”

You know that. You know you could’ve died yesterday, and he doesn’t need to remind you of that fact. Before you can start to get petulant again though, Dean continues. His jaw is working, like this next part is more difficult for him to admit.

“Trust me when I say, us being together is dangerous, for both of us,” he says. “For a while I, uh…I started to think Sam and I were better off alone.”

That casts you into dismay. Because you know Dean isn’t lying. He’s really contemplated spending the rest of his life devoid of love, so he won’t have to lose it. 

Dangerous, for both of us.

You realize then what Dean’s really saying. He’s afraid…afraid to lose you. You see it in his furrowed brows, the downturn of his lips, and whatever pain he’s trying to hide in the depths of his eyes. 

And just like that, the water works start. You can’t quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms. 

“You don’t have to cry for that,” he says, a bit teasing. 

“Have you met me?” you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. “I’m sorry too. God, I’m so sorry, Dean.” 

Your fist clenches in his shirt when you remember Andy, latched onto your neck, and how Dean had to save you. You know he’s remembering it too when his brows furrow, and his gaze falls away. You reach a hand for his cheek.

“I know I fucked up,” you admit. “I was working with my heart, not my head. I just…”

You wanted so badly to help that kid and his mother. You also know that Dean understands; you see it in his eyes. He holds your hand to his cheek and brushes his thumb across the back of your hand.

“I know,” he says. “I really am sorry, baby.” 

The problem is, you didn’t just see your own mother in Rachel. She hadn’t been much older than you. And when you imagine a life beyond hunting, more than anything (no matter how much you shove down the idea), you really do want a family of your own someday. 

It’s just…days like yesterday remind you why that could be a very bad idea. 

More of your tears bubble over, and you head willingly into Dean’s arms. “Me too…”

He holds you tighter than ever. His hands rub down your back, tangle in your hair, and he drops his lips onto your hair. You sniffle, wiping your face dry in his shirt. And for a while, the two of you have peace in the relative quiet. 

Music still plays from the speaker though. And when another salsa song starts to play on your playlist, you start swaying. A smile works its way onto Dean’s face. 

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he teases.

You smile into his chest. “We should go dancing sometime.”

Dean just laughs. “Oooh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” you reply, batting your lashes up at him. You slip a hand on his shoulder and into one of his hands. He’s forced to hold you as if the two of you were about to start Fred Astair-ing across the living room. 

“Have you ever danced before?” you ask. “Like real dancing.” 

“Not salsa, I’ll tell you that,” he quips. 

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you,” you reply with a coquettish smile. “It’s just a few simple moves.”

Dean gives you a wan look. “You made it look anything but simple.”

You blush at that, but you meet him with a pout of disappointment. You don’t let up, even when Dean frowns. He huffs at you in resistance.

“No,” he insists. You just brush a gentle thumb along his neck, biting your lip in askance.  

But the longer he stares at your beautiful, hopeful eyes, the more cracks form in his resolve. 

Eventually, Dean breaks with a sigh, and a shake of his head. 

“You’re too much, you know that?” he mutters.

It’s then that you know you’ve won.

So with a happy squeal of excitement, you clap your hands and move to stand next to him so you can show him the basic steps of salsa dancing. 

You make him take off his robe and slippers, leaving in his shirt and plaid pajama pants. Then you instruct him for a few minutes, correcting his footing and getting him to move on a beat. You’re pleasantly surprised that he has some rhythm.  

Dean sighs once again. How the hell did we get here? Heat crawls up the back of his neck as embarrassment starts to set in. 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he grumbles.

“You’re doing good,” you encourage, with a growing smile. “Now come on, feel the beat in threes. One, two, three. One, two, three…”

Once he sort of has the basic steps and turns down, you move to stand in front of him. There you show him how to hold you, how he’ll move forward, and you’ll move back. It takes a little while, but you slowly move through the combinations, then do a little twirl underneath his hand. 

When he pulls you back in without faltering, you give him a beaming smile. “Very good!”

A subtle grin raises his lips at your enthusiasm. He also feels his face heating up at the praise.

But you pause when a certain song filters through the speakers. It’s an old one (and it never fails to make you blush), but you love it.  

“Ooh, yes,” you exclaim with delight, and you turn up the volume.

“What’s this one?” Dean asks.

“Ven Devórame Otra Ves,” you inform him. Not that he knows what that means. You sing along a bit with the first couple of verses while you encourage Dean to lead you in the dance. 

This song is just slow enough for him to attempt it, and the funny thing is, he doesn’t feel all that uncomfortable with the steps now. He’s starting to get a feel for how to move, both with his feet, and with his hands as he guides you by your waist, holding your hand close to his chest. Still, Dean’s also curious about the lyrics you’re singing. 

“What does it mean?” he asks.

You huff in amusement. “You sure you want to know?”

Dean raises a brow. “Well, now I gotta know.” 

You giggle at that, though you correct his steps when he leads with the wrong foot. 

“Okay. It’s about a guy who’s pretty much a player,” you say with a smirk. “His bed has been a revolving door of hot ass, but he keeps thinking about this one woman who used to have him turned inside out…”

Dean’s lips curve at the familiar image you’re conjuring. He manages to turn you under his hand, then pull you back to him in one smooth motion. He looks down at you with a deeper gleam in his eyes. You bite your lip, soothing your hand from his shoulder and down his arm.

As the song’s verses come, you translate for him. And for Dean, your voice in itself is a spell.

“Even in my dreams, he says, I thought I had you devouring me. And I dampened my white sheets remembering you,” you begin. Your words are smooth like black velvet. “In my bed, no one is like you, who draws my body on every corner, without a piece of skin left over.”

Dean is getting hot under the collar as you push away, dragging your fingertips along his back as you turn around him. When you come back into his line of vision, his attention is attracted to the sway of your hips, clad just in those little spandex shorts. He has to clear his throat a bit. 

You eventually return to him with a warm hand against his chest. 

“Ven, devórame otra ves. It means, come devour me again,” you continue, looking up at him from under your lashes, “Come punish me more with your desire. Because I kept my love for you…because my mouth has the taste of your body.” 

You smile at the laser focus of his green-eyed gaze. “Come devour me again.”

You push off with another little spin. When you reach for his hand, Dean yanks you back into him, eliciting a gasp. The move disorients you for a moment, but you giggle and hold onto his arms. Your hands glide up to rest on his shoulders. 

He’s holding you flush against him, and as you shift a thigh between his legs, you unintentionally graze against his hardening length. You look up at him with a smirk.

“You’re a little…stiff,” you say, both flirtatious and teasing. “Let’s loosen you up.”

You shake his shoulders out and try to get him to relax. Dean raises a wry brow, because you know damn well whose fault it is that his body is coiled tight. But you place his hands on your hips as you move back into the dance. 

“Feel what I’m doing there?” you ask. He looks down on you with growing heat.

“If I could do that, we wouldn’t be together,” he rumbles. 

You try to stifle a laugh as he pulls you in close again, just swaying for a bit. Soon enough, you grin knowingly when his hands start to slide lower on your ass. His head bows to yours, ready to meet you with a kiss. 

You stop him with your finger on his lips.

“Question: do you consider yourself more of a tits or ass man?” you ask him. You’re half teasing, but still curious. Dean snorts at the question. 

“More of a connoisseur,” he replies, smirking. 

“Ah.” You nod sagely, and you point between him and yourself. “So this is like a ‘sample the menu’ situation.”

Dean’s smirk deepens. “Sweetheart, you’re a goddamn buffet.”

You splutter laughing…and that’s when he finally pounces. He claims your lips with greedy passion. His hand winds into your hair, gripping tight and ruining what’s left of your loose ponytail. The strands coil around his hand in messy curls while he also gets a healthy grip of your ass through your thin shorts. 

You smile into his lips, even as you acquiesce to him guiding your head to the side, so he can slip his tongue against yours. You grip his arms more for stability while he manhandles you, kneading soft flesh and making pleasant tingles run up your spine. 

After a little while, his mouth burns a hot path away from yours. He noses down your neck, skimming his lips across your skin. It sets your nerve endings on fire and gets you breathing more shallowly in his ear. You cling to the back of his shirt, holding him close. 

Often he’s one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss.

He lets out a deep breath, and you realize he’s probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesn’t change what’s imprinted in both of your minds.  

A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck. 

“I’m okay,” you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that he’s still thinking far too much.

So you slide your hands down, slow between the dips and planes of muscle in his back, and rest at his hips. Your thumbs delve under the hem of his shirt and tease the skin there. 

And you start slow, pressing wet, nipping kisses of your own to his neck while you inch his shirt up. You feel his smile on your neck. His grip on your hip flares to life. Still, he lets you tug his shirt up and over his head. Your loose shirt comes next, revealing the same black satin and lace bra you wore the first time he ever got you topless in his arms. 

A fan favorite. Dean grins. He reaches around to go for the clasp, but your firm push on his chest takes him by surprise.

He falls back onto the couch with a grunt, looking up at you then with raised brows. You’ve got a mischievous little smirk on your face that heats his blood and makes his cock twitch.

You take out the rest of your falling ponytail, shaking your hair out wild. Then you let your hands drift down your neck, over your clothed breasts, and finally to your little shorts.

Dean rubs his palms down his thighs and watches. A smirk forms across his lips as you slide the fabric down the curve of your hips. It leaves you in a red thong, familiar to him by the little tear it has on the front. (Again, his fault.)

You climb aboard his strong thighs to straddle his lap, using his shoulders as leverage as you sink down. You make sure to rub yourself teasingly against his clothed erection. He groans in appreciation. His hands fly to your soft, thick thighs and squeeze. 

“Aw, I like this,” Dean says, half on another moan as you grind down a bit harder on him. 

“Yeah?” you tease. You take his face in your hands and capture his lips with your own. Your tongue invades his mouth, and he welcomes you with a deep hum. It’s slow and hot at first, but Dean feels the loss of you when you break from his lips.

Instead, you treat him with the same trail of kisses he gave you, along the curve of his jaw and down his neck. But you don’t stop there.

Your hands move over his chest with purpose, tweaking over each hard nipple while your mouth burns a wet line down and down his sternum. Dean groans at your ministrations, but lets you leave his lap to slide down to the ground, between his thighs. 

“What’re you up to, baby?” he asks, despite having a very good idea of it. He catches the playful, yet determined gleam in your eye. 

You pause, briefly leaning back up to give him a heated kiss. You part from him with a grin. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” you ask. “I’m gonna devour you.”

Dean stares hard at you as goosebumps break out across his forearms. 

Oh, fuck yeah. 

A giggle bubbles in your throat at the expression on his face. But you continue, taking his pants down his legs first, before his boxer briefs. 

Dean’s body tenses in anticipation. You’ve gone down on him before, but somehow it’s different this time. He feels like every single one of his nerve endings stands at attention along with his dick. And you’re taking your sweet time working him up. 

Even when his cock is finally free, you sooth your hands down his legs first, maybe teasing him a bit as you drag your nails down his inner thighs. Dean makes a strained sound, though he tries to hide it by clearing his throat.

Your gaze flicks up to his with a little smile. He’s holding the back of the couch; his fingers are digging into the old cushion in effort to keep still for you. But his eyes stare into yours like a man starving. You know what you’re in for after you have your way with him, but for now, he’s quite literally under your control. 

So you take him in your hands first. Dean groans as you tease him with light touches, soft movements, your thumb slowly circling over the sensitive, weeping head of his cock. It's torturous enough to make him drop his head back against the couch, closing his eyes tight.

And suddenly, he blinks them open again.

“Shit,” he utters, when you finally take him into your mouth. Your tongue is soft and wet, your lips move over him steadily, and your hands caress whatever your mouth can’t take, even teasing his balls. 

You work him over relentlessly, until he can’t help but spill everything he has to give into your waiting mouth. When you suck off and swallow whatever remains, Dean’s heart stutters like syncopated conga drums. 

He shudders and struggles for breath afterwards, watching your every movement—from wiping your mouth to shooting him that satisfied little smirk. 

You press one last kiss to the inside of his thigh before you raise from where you’ve been kneeling on the hard ground. 

Dean manages to lean forward and helps you up by your elbows. But then he pulls you back into his lap and kisses you deeply. He doesn’t let up until you’re panting with him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he manages to say. His voice is deep and laced with grit. 

He’s still panting heavily. You giggle and press your warming face into his neck. 

“What, now you’re shy?” he remarks. And he has to laugh. “Come back here.”

He brings your face back to him with a hand on your cheek. For a second, he just looks at you. His thumb strokes across your full, thoroughly kissed bottom lip.  

“Say it,” you encourage softly. “Whatever you’re thinking. Right now.”

A smile tugs at his lips. He can’t help but oblige you. 

“You’re too damn much,” he says again, both gruff and fond. Despite how you drive him up the fucking wall sometimes, he doesn't think it'll ever be enough for him, what he has with you.

Because this is something he'd almost given up on. Didn't think he'd get to have it. And it almost scares him, how much he wants you. How much he...

“I love you,” he says. His thumb traces along the familiar curve of your cheek.

It hasn’t been all that long, but he knows. You weaseled your way in without even trying. The least he can do for you is be honest.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, holding his hand in place. You tilt your head at him.

“Oh, yeah?” you ask. 

Dean hesitates, but he nods. “Yeah.”

A smile grows across your face. “Eh, I’m still on the fence.”

At his flat look, you laugh and lean in for a kiss. He allows it, a little petulantly. But you make up for it with sweet affection. Your gentle hands stroke down the column of his neck, down his chest. You then lean back so he can see your face.

“Yo te amo,” you whisper. “Te amo y te quiero, más que tú puedes creer y entender.”

Dean smiles. He doesn’t understand all of it, but he gets the important bits. He hears it in the tone of your voice. He sees it in your eyes. They shine with emotion, but mainly with love. 

Dean kisses your hand. He lets go, just so he can slip his hands around you to finally unhook your bra. He tosses it across the room without bothering to see where it lands.

You do though, and you meet him with a slightly narrowed gaze. 

“Are you making a mess of my clean bunker?” you tease. 

His lips curve as he kisses you again, while his hands each get a generous handful of your breasts. 

“Ah, hello, ladies." He grins. "Miss me?”

You can’t help but laugh. He’s such a dork sometimes.

But you hum when his thumbs brush over hardened nipples, then drag deliberate circles over them, and pinch just hard enough to make you whimper in pleasure. The sensation zips through you, enhancing the flood between your legs. 

“I fucking love that sound,” Dean mutters, and licks a hot path in the valley between your breasts. His lips move against your dewy skin when he says, “Do that for me again.”

When he takes a nipple in his mouth and nips a bit hard, you have to oblige him. Your voice rising high is music to his ears.  

So he goes for your panties next. You help him get them off and return to his lap. With a breathy moan, you revel at the feeling of his fingers probing into your wet heat.  

However, you and Dean have been too engrossed in one another to notice the door of the bunker unlocking, and heavy steps down the spiral staircase. 

It’s Sam who’s back from his run. Unfortunately, he soon has to shield his eyes upon reaching the living room. 

“Damn it, Dean!”

You yelp in surprise, but Dean laughs and holds you close to shield you from view. As a bonus, it presses your breasts against his chest. 

“All right, Sammy. Go to your room,” he chides playfully (but he means it). “The adults are havin’ a moment.”

Sam scoffs. “You’re having a moment on the goddamn couch!”

“Sorry,” you say, though it’s muffled in Dean’s neck. Your face is red hot with embarrassment. 

Sam rolls his eyes heavenward and tries not to see anything else on his way to his room. 

But Dean’s chuckle reverberates through your chest as his hand goes to your cheek. He encourages you to pull back, so he can see your face again. 

When he does, he smirks at the scarlet blush dusting your cheeks and neck. You bite your lower lip, but despite your embarrassment, you’re happy.

Your own words replay in your mind when you lean in for another kiss.

I love you, you’d said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand. 

AN: Yay! I hope you enjoyed Part 2 of the “Midnight Espresso”-verse! I loved writing this one so much. I know we're just doing fanfic here, but I genuinely put my heart and soul into this one. ❤️

Also, here are a couple of Spanish translations:

(Note: other Spanish-speaking countries may interpret certain words differently.)

[During their fight]: 

“Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Translation:

“You’re shameless. Keep messing with me, damn it. Then you’re going to see who I am (<- This is Dominican slang. It essentially means fuck around and find out what I'm made of.).”

[Song lyrics: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique]: 

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo.”

Translation:

“I don’t know tomorrow. I don’t know tomorrow. If we’ll be together, if the world will end.”

Keep Reading:

Next in this series is "Chico Malo" ("Bad Boy"):

Summary: You catch Dean red-handed—with one of his favorite episodes of Casa Erotica.

▶️ Next Story: Bad Boy (Chico Malo)

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[albinokittens300]

!Spoilers Under The Cut!

A/N: SO...been a minute since I wrote fic but. Made sense since I have ideas floating around might as well write and share them. Please note not only am I rusty writing in general, this is my first attempt at these characters. Be gentle on me please XD. I do hope you all enjoy. Let me know what you think, and maybe I'll try and get another one out maybe before Act 2 drops this weekend. All this ended up being was a little drabble of a possible reunion between Ekko and Jinx because I need some Timebomb goodness. Isha making an appearance is a bonus! Fair warning I make some wild leaps about what goes on during Act 2, so beware this is based some of my speculation.

He lets it go on for a few turns into different allies before finally stopping.

Ekko knows his little shadow is nothing more than a child, judging by the sound of the sets on the stone and the occasional clang of metal being kicked or tripped on. He usually wouldn't be worried- but with no one chasing after and taking her back to where she belonged, he took it as the sign it was. To follow him so far means she is all alone. Having just gotten back across the bridge, helping an orphan wasn't something on the list of deep concerns. At least, not until it needed to be.

"As quiet as you are, I have to say it'd be easier to get around if you weren't hiding." He says softly. Light brown eyes peek around the corner, playing at being undercover without actually doing so. She is hard to make out in low and greeish light, but he manages. "You can come out. Not gonna hurt you. All safe, I promise."

His hair raises, though, when her gaze flicks back to where he can't see. By all appearances, she is getting permission. So the girl isn't alone. When she takes a few steps out, he tries to remain unsuspicious.

"Whose behind there?" He asks as he kneels while she approaches.

"Definitely not who you're expecting." A darker, familiar voice speaks.

Jinx hasn't even revealed herself before the instinct takes over, and Ekko grabs the little girl and puts her behind him.

Attempting to pull her away from the known danger sets off another problem, though- the little girl reacts as if she has been burned. Letting out a cry, she wiggles away from him quickly before running back and wrapping herself around Jinx. While she removes the hood of her cloak, revealing a far too proud smirk, another arm wraps around the kid's shoulder. His eyes quickly scan her other side. A few bombs are latched there, but no pistol or any of her bigger toys. It was not a situation he loved, but it was preferable to facing down a minigun.

When Ekko's eyes return to the child, he doesn't think someone so small has ever looked at him so frightened. Something screams this isn't right as he watches for a few seconds.

"Relax, this one, I'll admit, has a reason to be a bit jumpy." She says, directing the words at the girl. Then, leveling a look at him. "What was it Vi said you had to say when the two of ya caught up? About looking good for a dead person?"

"That makes three of us, then." He says back. "Wanna explain what is going on down here, seeing as you are my welcoming party."

"Ah, nothing much. War, revolution, infighting, and unifying! All of that. If you are looking for the Firelights, they aren't at the tree. Or what's left of it." She says with a wave of her hand and a shrug. The blood runs like ice at the words and he rounds on her.

"What did you-"

"Woah, woah, I didn't do anything. Those wackos from Noxus? They are the ones who tracked the tree. My only part was helping everyone out." She hisses back. When his face changes, so does hers—relaxing just the slightest bit. Helped them out? Months trapped away should mean nothing surprise him. But it does.

He sees her arms crossed, watching and almost waiting for him to decide how this will go. Deciding to match her lack of hostility, just this once, he looks around to the eerily empty and quiet lanes.

"Guess I got a lot to catch up on."

That brings a less taunting smirk to her face. "Just a bit."

[kandadze]

Ep 27 loose thoughts

Well, that's one way of snapping someone shell-shocked out of making a drastic decision. I feel like PSJ snapped something in herself at this moment, too. Anyone else found the ancestor's commentary going on in the background while the girls are bawling their eyes out hilarious? Just me? Okay.

While I was waiting for the ever burning wood to activate or something, the moment WX opened the box to reveal dried flowers I choked. ZYC!!!

Baby!Yichen breaks my heart, so impressionable, so open to learn. It's interesting to see that the phrases about suffering we've seen him use as an adult might have come from WX... Not a fan of telling people in mourning to stop dwelling in misery and sadness like it's as simple as flipping a switch (not to mention, she apparently *just* met him for the first time? The heck?), but at least the rest of her words seem to have helped him... so much that he kept the flowers 😭 The irony of her snow metaphor contrasted with their current predicament is indeed exquisite, A+ for that.

Are they going to be saved by the power of lurrrrve??? (At least this time. Still holding out for how that's gonna play out in the finale.) I mean, what other way to sway an ancient creature who's seen pretty much everything there is to see, than to show them something new? What's that? A test for a future event? (I'm getting really paranoid about nothing we've seen so far being real. It's like Alice in Wonderland on a bigger scale. Or Finnegans Wake on a smaller scale. I don't know.)

Oooh Bingyi and Ying Long, our original doomed couple (of self-sacrificial idiots)! I would watch a whole drama just about them. And damn, I can definitely see where Zhao Yuanzhou got his masochism from. Stoppppp not "Just let me be the first star"! (Especially since I just remembered ZYZ's "I'll be the rain...") It's not supposed to be literal! 😭😭😭 Ahhhh this scene just broke me, also because it seems to reinforce the idea that ZYZ *has* to be killed for the greater good. The visualssss in the execution- sacrifice? What the heck do I even call it?- scene though, soooo good!

"Let me do it myself." LET ME DO IT MYSELF??? FUCKKKKKKK DAMNIT HE JUST- ::head in hands, crying forever::

"Remember. This is my choice, not yours. You don't have to bear any blame or guilt." That's not how that works. That's not how any of that works!

Again, we're dealing with choices. But the fact that ZYZ choice was the same as Ying Long's... the fact that YL says that neither he nor Bingyi had any regrets... oh this is going to hurt.

Oh? ZYZ's future is not what he wants? (And wouldn't that be funny, considering ZYZ's own words while schooling ZYC in the very first ep... 9 times out of 10, things don't go our way?)

"You two are really like us." 😭😭😭

I was wondering if they were going to show us what ZYC saw, and not only does the image of ZYZ's body on that dark floor mirror Ying Long's body floating in the water, both ZYZ and ZYC wear the same clothes as in the very few scenes from the trailer that didn't happen yet... These poor sods, they've been Going Through It for almost a decade now with the only end in sight being yet another tragedy (even if the drama seems to suggest that they don't see it that way at this point.) ::head in hands, crying continues::

"My friend is here. We'll go together." The *sound* I made. Everything else this drama has given me aside, the growth of these characters and their bonds is so well done, and absolutely precious to me.

I want Ying Long's hopes and wishes for them to become true. Seeing how there's hints everywhere in this drama, I hope the words of one of the most powerful beings in existence will count for *something* in the end! (Am I grasping at straws? Maybe. Let me be delusional for a bit longer.)

What do you mean, five, ZYC? What's Ying Lei, chopped liver?

Oof this *almost* hug before WX starts feebly hitting ZYZ. It's relief, it's anger, it's fear for the next time, it's all the feelings that became too big to contain. I feel her so much. (I would've started whacking both him and ZYC way earlier tbh 😅) And ZYZ allowing her that release before pulling her in for reassurance, patting her as if she was a scared child. 😭 Cut to PSJ, looking as if she wanted nothing more but to be the one offering the reassurance to WX. Cut to ZYC, remembering that willingly or not, he's going to hurt WX beyond reassurance. Once again, the bonds in this drama!

Wait hold up hold on what? You just removed Bingyi's blood from him, that should mean that ZYC will not have to become a demon, right? So what's that about developing the inner core? (Also, I just realized that so far all they got from this trip was "go east and ask for a dragon scale" lol) Thankfully him and ZYZ had their conversation(s) about titles and identities so being asked to make that particular choice was not completely out of left field at this point. And all he cares about is whether that means that the last trace of Ying Long will disappear! 😭 (I'm so with Bingyi on this one... I would hold onto that last shred of my friend's existence, too, *especially* if they offed themself via my goddamn sword.)

What's with that look after he says that he thinks he has it - the inner core - is there a joke here somewhere? (I *gotta* go back to learning the language, the things I'm undoubtedly missing on!) The only thing I can think of is - did they think he said he's pregnant??? ::dies:: "So what's your true form?" "Must be dragon." "I say you're a mule." "Better than being a monkey." "I'm a white ape!" ::dies again:: Nice to see we still get a friendly ribbing between all of them, and I can breathe after all the angst. Fingers crossed? There's still 5 minutes left...

Oh good, let's talk about getting Bai Jiu back! (I knew there was one more character from the opening credits that didn't show up yet... guess it's the rebel princess.) While Ao Yin is eavesdropping! Talk about good hearing. Sigh, here it comes, another goal they have that will conflict with Li Lun's; they want the scale to restore the sword, and LL not only doesn't want that to happen, the scale could potentially help him get rid of the poison.

Oh for fuck's sake, I think I was subconsciously waiting for Chongwu Camp to show up, knowing that they've eavesdropped on the gang earlier, and here they are. ZYZ should really think of putting up some sound barrier when they discuss important plans, everyone seems to know exactly what they'll be doing at any given moment!

Ahhhh we're getting a nod to that little cough and stumble WX had shortly before this trip. Something's wrong with Baize token? Or with her connection to it? We only have 7 episodes left, drama!

(ZYC is such a good little brother.) Oh great, it was the rebel princess who killed WX's dad? I repeat, we only have 7 episodes left!

Sigh... with only 7 episodes left, we *also* find out that the goddamn 3-face-mask has history with the princess? And has everyone and their mother sat on that little bridge???

This feels like the endless final scenes in Peter Jackson's "Return of the King," my head is spinning.

Note to self, *stop* looking at previews. Ying Lei, what the absolute fuck?

[1toreyouapart]

The Lies We Tell

Summary that tells you nothing: Sometimes everything you ever wanted has been right there, within reach, all along.

CW/TW: Angst, fluff, swearing, friends to lovers, jealousy, smut, fingering, PinV, pet names, friends with benefits, more to come as I actually get things written out.

Masterlist

Why Do Men?

Quinn pushed the food around on her plate, barely listening to the man across from her. He was attractive enough, seemed kind. But good God, he was boring. From the moment she walked in he droned on and on about him and what he did for work, how much money he made. His big flashy car he had. Right now she was really hoping that Noah had asked her to stay with him instead. In fact, she had been sure that he would. Instead, he had rushed out of that bathroom and she hadn't seen him since. Not even when she knocked on his door before she left.

Him telling her she had shitty taste in men still stung a bit. Mostly because it was true. And who was it that picked up the pieces after every failed date? Every brief relationship that failed after three months? Noah. Always there to pick up the pieces and put her back together again. She was willing to bet he already had a whole thing planned for when she got home tonight, too.

"You're one of those goth girls, right?"

Quinn snapped out of her head. What the fuck was this guy on about?

"Excuse me?"

"I'm asking because you look like one. Tattoos, dark hair. Dark clothes." He leaned forward. "Bet you're into some kinky shit, too."

Her stomach turned. What the fuck? Did he really just say that? It didn't matter so much that she wasn't goth. Though, she definitely had more gothic tendencies than not. The sexualization of goth girls, however, was too much. It was vile. It was disgusting. God. Noah had been right.

"Mmmm. This date is over." Sighing, frustrated, she got up, pulling out her wallet. "Here's my half."

"Oh, come on. Don't be like that. It's just a question."

"Be like what? Bored out of my mind because you can't shut the fuck up about how great you think you are? Or irritated because you seem to think that goth women exist for your pleasure?" She threw the money down on the table, laughing. "See you never."

Satisfied she walked away, pulling her phone out. Everything in her screamed at her to call Noah, not an Uber. Noah would be there faster. But she didn't want to hear his "I told you so" just yet. That might set her off even more and she was trying not to cause a scene.

The cool night air hit her skin as the app told her a driver was on her way. 15 minutes until her ride arrived. Cursing she pulled up the text thread with Noah, debating texting him that he had been right. Just then, however, her date appeared in front of her, angry.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You're not even that pretty, anyway."

Quinn's stomach churned, her palms going sweaty as she glanced up and down the sidewalk. There were people. Lots of them. She should be safe, right? Fuck. What had Noah taught her? He had tried so hard to teach her how to defend herself. Now that the time may be here she couldn't remember a thing. Steeling herself for what may happen she lifted her chin, meeting the man's eyes.

"I said the date is over."

"You know, you should be grateful I even gave you the time of day. I make more money in a year than you ever will in your life."

She laughed. Genuinely deeply laughed. This guy wasn't going to attack her. His ego might be bruised, but that's as far as it would go. The type of guy that used his wealth to get sex. If he even actually made that much money.

"Says the grown ass man crying because the girl that 'isn't even that pretty.' Do you even hear yourself right now?"

"Whatever. Good luck finding a man that'll put up with you."

She watched as he walked off, ignoring the tiny crack in her armor that last comment had made. So many failed dates. Nothing lasting more than three months in the last seven years. Maybe he was right and there was something just inherently wrong with her. Her track record definitely spoke to that.

Her phone lit up, letting her know her ride had arrived just as a vehicle with an Uber sign in the window showed up. Thank fucking God. All she wanted right now was her pajamas, a movie, and her best friend.

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

For the main skellies pls...how good are they in physical combat and pain tolerance???

Undertale Sans - He's good in physical combat because he is a rare subspecies, a Judge. Judges were annihilated during the war by humans because of how powerful they are, as they can inflict as much damage as the LV the people they're fighting have, their only weakness being their low HP, because their magic is more developed than their life force. Sans is like the last of them. Sans, however, doesn't really know that. All he knows is that his magic is weird and powerful for some reason and that he dislikes using it. So he keeps his skills in combat well hidden and shows them only in extremely desperate times. Only Asgore knows what he is, but seeing that Sans obviously doesn't want to be a warrior, he lets him go and lets his people forget about the Judge monsters. Toriel has suspicions too, but she never really finds the courage to talk to Sans about this. Sans would probably not like that anyway. Other than that, he is pretty resistant to pain. He doesn't like showing when he's sick or in pain and will try to pretend everything is alright for the longer he can.

Undertale Papyrus - He's extremely good and extremely powerful. It's a shame Undyne realized that after reaching the Surface and overhearing her saying he could never make it to the Royal Guard. Papyrus is not interested in fighting anymore. He accepted long ago that his hands are made more for healing and helping people than hurting people. That doesn't mean he can't defend himself though, far from that. Papyrus' magic always had been extremely powerful, and actually, way too much for him to handle, and when he needs to, he lets go of everything, and good luck with that lol. What he showed Frisk or even Undyne is not even half of what he can do. He's pretty average on pain tolerance, except in combat, where he can take a lot of hits before renouncing.

Underswap Sans - Blue was born to fight and nothing ever stopped him to follow his dream. Alphys saw great potential in him at a young age, and even if Blue struggled to follow any sense of authority and often preferred to follow his instincts, it was pretty clear to her that he would become one of his best soldiers. He is extremely good and precise in fights and added to that, he is a very good strategist. Most of his plans succeed. That was no surprise to anyone when he was the first to volunteer to enter the police. Alphys trained him a few months to teach him how to lead a team, then she left him on his own to go back to civil life with Undyne. Blue is working hard to make her proud. All the criminals in town know his name and they fear him, but he's even flawless, far from that. He tends to put himself in danger all the time, and sometimes it comes back to bite him. He's resistant to pain though and doesn't mind getting hurt to protect his colleagues.

Underswap Papyrus - He can defend himself if he really needs it too. That's his max though. Honey is not a fighter and growing up in the shadow of his brother succeeding in everything in his life made sure he didn't want to be one. He's not really strong, he's not really powerful, he hides behind big monsters when things are bad and he doesn't have any resistance to pain lol. Leave him alone. Honey biggest strength is his empathy and his intelligence. He doesn't need to be a soldier to show everyone what he can do.

Underfell Sans - He's a good fighter but he's also a very good survivalist. He perfectly knows he's not really strong, nor really smart, and so he will always choose to flee instead of fighting if he has the choice. Survival before anything else. However, if cornered, Red is for sure a force you for sure don't want to deal with. He's brutal, and merciless and his powerful attacks are aimed to kill or injure badly until he finds a way to escape. You really don't want to see what he's really capable of. He has a good resistance to pain. He already went through some horrible things before and it's hard to break him.

Underfell Papyrus - He's obviously an excellent fighter. Edge had been enrolled in the Royal Guard very young, and was the only one to survive his battalion, all killed by Asgore during their initiation ritual. Edge never knew why Asgore kept him alive, either because Sans paid him or the King saw something in him. He'll never know. After that, Edge was forced to improve, constantly, if he wanted to be enough to not be executed. He became captain only a few months later, thanks to his great mind and how he managed to bring peace back to Snowdin, reputed to be full of rebels and little criminals. He's an excellent strategist, and that's the reason why, after some time, Asgore tried to assassinate him lol, because Edge was a lot more popular than him, and represented a threat to the crown. Too bad Edge saw that coming. Now on the Surface after Asgore's brutal death, after he tried to force Undyne to be his wife, Edge lost a bit of his combat skills, as he doesn't want to do anything with the guard. But he's still very dangerous, alone or in a duo with Undyne. He has an extreme resistance to pain, which is both a good thing and a bad thing. He can have both legs broken, but he'll still keep fighting. But that also means he has a very bad tendency to hide his injuries from everyone, and sometimes for a very long time, until he can't physically stand up anymore.

Horrortale Sans - He's a very dangerous fighter and you really don't want to have him as an enemy. Oak is completely unpredictable and smart and he is still a Judge Monster, despite all the changes in his personality. He can't use his magic for long, but now that he has LV, his attacks are devastating. Unlike Sans, he perfectly knows how powerful he is, and will do all he can to scare the threat off before actually attacking. He doesn't want to fight, but he wants to know people that he can perfectly do it if they keep pushing. You don't want to fight him, he's deadly, maybe even more than the Fell skeletons. He has an extreme resistance to pain too, but that's mainly because the part of his brain that used to tell him when he's in pain is gone. It's a good thing because he doesn't feel like he's injured. But that's also a bad thing because Oak can't really tell when his injuries are too much or when they are too important for him to keep fighting. In everyday life, that's also a big problem because he can't tell when something is burning for example, which can lead to severe injuries. He already lost a finger once because of that. That's one of the many reasons why Willow is always on his back: Oak can't tell when he's hurt. So Willow has to do that for him.

Horrortale Papyrus - Willow won't fight until he has really no other choice, both because he is limited in what he can do physically with his disabilities, but also because he is scared of his own magic. It was already difficult to control it before, now it's completely unpredictable and wild. When Willow attacks for real, you most likely not survive, even if he tries to hold back. His attacks are extremely powerful and brutal, and he can't choose how to aim at the good people, which makes him dangerous for his allies as well. Added to that, using his magic often leaves him on the verge of dying because he uses way too much magic than what he's supposed to. Other than that, Willow has a good resistance to pain. He doesn't really have a choice as he's constantly in pain. He just got used to it.

Swapfell Sans - He's a good fighter, but he's tired of fighting constantly. Nox adapts to almost every situation and changes his style of combat according to it. He's extremely precise. He was recruited really young in the guard, then got noticed by the Queen and she decided to train him herself. Nox is as strong as a boss monster and his name is enough to scare even the most powerful warriors of the Royal Guard. But behind this hide years of abuse, both mentally and physically, and the extreme pressure the Queen put on his shoulders, as she trained him to be the next King of Monsters. Nox said nothing Underground, but now that he is on a Surface, he is realizing everything he lost those years, his personality, his brother, his teenage years... And that made him just a tiny bit rebellious. Even if he feels better now, after reaching the Surface, Nox looked for troubles, hoping some monsters would kill him before he can access to the throne. He realized after that it meant leaving his brother all alone and calmed down, but he changed a lot. He prefers to defend than attack now and does his best to not always be in the frontlines. He's still a very scary opponent though. He has a good resistance to pain, but unlike Edge, he learned to ask for help when he needs it.

Swapfell Papyrus - He's a tricky one. Rus is actually a good fighter. His brother trained him, and even though they separated Underground, Rus kept training on his own. He's not as precise as a soldier, but he's extremely smart. He usually only dodges for a long time, forcing his opponent to use his magic. And when the guy gets tired, he attacks at full force and at the speed of light, usually surprising his opponent enough for them to either have to retreat or to change their strategy entirely. He's dangerous, more than what people think, but he prefers way more to find a peaceful end to his fights, by talking or annoying his opponents until they get tired of him and leave lol. Rus does this effect on people. He has a low resistance to pain though. He's a true drama queen when he's in pain and even with a little splinter in the finger, he acts like he's in agony.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Probably one of the most dangerous skeletons. Wine is before all a genius strategist. Even if he can fight terribly well and with extremely powerful attacks, he prefers to keep his best skills hidden to surprise his enemies. That's no fun if he attacks stupidly. No, what Wine likes is underground battles. Manipulating people so they turn against their people at the last second, destroying the entire economy so that his opponents can't buy enough weapons, recruiting spies, and training them to assassinate some people without anyone being able to know he's the one who did it... Wine prefers to work hidden and make a theatrical appearance at the end once their opponent realizes they're completely screwed and that he didn't even have to fight to get to this result. Then he attacks and destroys them completely. The Queen and the King fear him, his rivals fear him, everyone fear him and so he usually doesn't have to do anything because they are all so scared of him that they stay very far away and let him do anything he wants. Don't let that guy be too close to any government, that might end really badly. Wine never got severely injured so he doesn't know how high is his resistance to pain. He's not too worried though. Good luck to the cretin who's going to try to kill him lol.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Coffee never learned how to fight. He knows basic techniques to defend himself, but that's all Wine taught him. Coffee grew up locked in a house, not authorized to leave without his brother, and he ended up believing all of this was normal. It's only once he reached the Surface that he started questioning all of this. He's not very brave or very strong, everything scares him outside, but he's so tired of being considered as the weak little brother of the general of the Royal Guard. Coffee is still learning to be independent. He's not a good fighter and he is not resistant to pain, but he can learn. He's desperate to learn actually. He doesn't want to hurt his brother's feelings, but his objective is to leave the house and have a life on his own, to show Wine that he can do it and doesn't need to be protected. Sure, it's going to be a hard journey, as he has no social codes whatsoever, but he's trying.

[rex-meshla]

Steel Meets Silk

PAIRING | ARC Commander Colt x F!OC (Anastasia Husk) SUMMARY | Heiress to one of the galaxy's most powerful corporations, Anastasia "Stassie" Husk has lived a life of privilege, always in control-or so she thought. But as the shadows of war creep closer, her sheltered world begins to crack, revealing betrayals and secrets that could destroy everything WORD COUNT | 1.7k

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Prologue: The Weight of Perfection

The glass in my hand was as delicate as the conversations around me—smooth, effortless, as if it had all been carefully orchestrated. I smiled, barely listening to the conversation I'd heard a hundred times before: the same praise, the same hollow compliments, the same empty promises. They didn't know me; they only knew Alaric and Vivienne Husk's daughter, the perfect heir, polished and brilliant.

My life had been arranged, as precisely as a blueprint. Every piece of it sewn into place, like a suit that fit just a little too tight. Did anyone even see me, the girl behind the name, behind the forced smile? In moments like these, I wasn't sure I even saw myself. This world of polished surfaces, where a single misstep could crack the facade, and the pressure to be flawless felt less like a privilege and more like a trap.

Tonight, though, it all felt so... ordinary. The gala had all the usual ingredients—flickering chandeliers, hundreds of glasses of champagne clinking, the soft murmur of high society, their voices a soundtrack to the elegance of the room. Everything was perfectly arranged, and I was, as always, a part of it. The perfect daughter. The perfect heir to the Husk legacy. The perfect everything.

Talk of the war swirled in the background, muffled voices in a world that felt so far removed from me. It was almost amusing how such distant concerns could dominate the galaxy when, here in my world, all I had to worry about was making sure my dress didn't snag on the edge of the table. The Republic's fight for peace was a story I'd read in the news, a conflict I rarely thought about. It wasn't my fight.

"Stassie, darling, you look radiant tonight," a voice cut through my thoughts. I turned to see Padmé standing there, her eyes softer than I'd expected. Unlike most people here, she looked at me as though she saw past the sparkles and smiles, to someone else underneath.

I turned, my smile widening as I spotted Padmé. Even in a room full of accomplished individuals, she always stood out. Not just because of her beauty, but because of the quiet strength she exuded. There was something in the way she carried herself that made you feel like the world was a little more manageable when she was around.

"Thank you," I replied with a smile. "And you, as always, have that 'I'm about to save the galaxy' glow about you."

Padmé's voice, smooth and calm, was a stark contrast to the buzzing energy of the gala around us. She wasn't just a senator; she was a woman who carried the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders, and it showed in the quiet intensity with which she spoke.

"You know, Stassie," she began, her gaze drifting past the sparkling chandeliers to the horizon outside, "there are days when I wish the war had never reached us here, this far from the front lines. I'm sure it all seems so distant from where you stand, but I've seen firsthand what it does. People think it's just the battles. But it's the ripple effect, the way it shifts everything. The market. The people. Even those we thought we could trust." Her voice softened for a moment, a shadow crossing her face. "I was at a memorial service for a friend last week. A fellow senator. Just... gone. The war's touch is far-reaching, and you never know when it will come knocking."

I glanced at her, startled by the hint of vulnerability in her tone. Padmé, the epitome of composure, was rarely so open, but the weight of her words struck me in a way I hadn't anticipated. My mind spun, trying to reconcile the serene world I knew with the dark reality she was painting.

I forced a smile, though it felt thin. "I suppose I'm lucky. It all feels so far away from here."

Padmé's gaze lingered on me for a moment longer. "Lucky, yes. But don't let that shield you from what's coming. It doesn't take much for the world to change. Sometimes, it's just one unexpected moment. Your family's business, your father's influence... It all becomes part of the bigger picture. Don't wait until it's too late to realize how much it matters."

Her words hung in the air, and for a second, I couldn't decide if I should be worried or grateful for her warning. There was a tension in her eyes, a silent plea for me to understand something more than the glittering world I was so comfortable in. But I didn't know how to move beyond that distance yet.

As the evening wore on, the conversation around me started to die down, and the glow of the gala seemed to flicker out in slow motion. The guests began to thin out, the glittering crowd dispersing like a fading dream. But there was one person who had remained, even as the others left.

Father always lingered just a little longer, as if savoring every moment, like a man who knew the value of time.

I spotted him across the room, standing by a tall window with a perfect view of the stars. He was surveying the crowd, his sharp blue eyes never missing a detail. But when they landed on me, something shifted in his expression, more than just pride. There was something else. Something I couldn't quite place.

I excused myself from the conversation I'd been caught in, moving toward him with a purposeful stride. As I approached, he looked me up and down with that familiar calculating gaze, but this time, there was a warmth in his eyes that made my chest tighten.

"Stassie," he said, his voice low and steady. "Come here for a moment."

I stopped in front of him, offering a small, questioning smile. "What's on your mind, Father?"

He studied me for a long moment, as though seeing me not just as his daughter, but as the young woman I was becoming. "You're growing up," he said softly, almost to himself. "And it's time you understood just how serious that is."

I frowned slightly, unsure of where this was headed. "What do you mean?"

"You're not just the heir to this business, Anastasia. You're the future of it. And I've worked too hard to let anything—or anyone—stand in your way."

His grip on my shoulder was firm, but I kept my gaze steady, resisting the urge to pull away. "Of course," I replied smoothly, the word tasting bitter. Did he ever wonder what I wanted, what my future could look like if I weren't shaped to fit his plans? But I knew better than to ask. In our world, even the tiniest crack in the mask could cause everything to come crashing down.

"I know that," I replied, trying to keep the unease out of my voice. "But things have always been... well, they've always been good."

My father's smile was soft, but his eyes grew more serious. "Good is never enough. Good doesn't get you through the next challenge, the next hurdle. It's time for you to prepare for the real work ahead."

I blinked, processing his words. "The real work?"

"Yes," he said, his voice low and resolute. "You're about to step into a new chapter, Stassie. The one where the stakes are higher, the pressure greater. And you'll face challenges that will test everything you've learned so far."

A sudden weight settled over me, the kind that only came when my father spoke in that tone—the tone that signified no turning back. I wasn't just his daughter anymore. I was becoming a part of something far bigger than myself. And whether I liked it or not, I was about to see just how serious it all was.

"You're ready for this," he added, his voice full of quiet confidence. "I know it."

His words were measured, like everything else he did. I wanted to believe I was ready. But the tightness in my chest told me something else. I wasn't sure I was ready for whatever was coming. Or for him to see me the way he did.

As the night stretched on and the last of the guests began to file out, I stood with my father, surrounded by a soft hum of distant chatter. His words, though, echoed in my mind, a slow drip of reality that I couldn't quite shake. The real work ahead. The pressure. The stakes.

I glanced at him, noticing how the years had worn away at the sharpness of his features, leaving only the resolute, steady presence I had come to rely on. His gaze softened when it met mine again, and the pride in his eyes made something inside me tighten. But it wasn't just pride. It was expectation. And that was what made it heavy.

"We've got a few more days of this before I get back to the grind," I said lightly, trying to steer the conversation into something I could control, something that didn't carry that weight.

Father chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "You think this is just another meeting? Another gala?"

I swallowed, feeling the edge of my smile falter for a moment. "No, but I'm used to everything running smoothly. I'll be fine, Father."

His gaze remained steady, and for a brief moment, I saw the quiet storm that sometimes hid behind the polished exterior. "You don't get to be fine anymore, Anastasia. Not in this world. Things are about to change, and you need to be ready for that."

I stood there in silence, feeling the weight of his words press against my chest. The room had emptied, the glittering crowd gone, but it felt like the real event had just begun. My father's gaze never wavered, as if he were preparing me for something I wasn't yet ready to see.

"Remember this moment, Stassie," he said, his voice low. "The world doesn't care about your comfort, your plans, or your expectations. It doesn't wait. It only takes."

As the last of the guests filtered out, I lingered there, caught between my father's quiet certainty and the distant echo of Padmé's warning. The noise of the evening seemed to dissolve, and I was left with my thoughts only. The path ahead was already laid out before me, and it wasn't as simple as I had imagined.

I glanced once more at my father, his figure standing resolute in the dimming light, and something within me shifted. The weight of expectation, the world beyond these walls, and the challenges I had yet to face—all of it settled into place. I wasn't just playing a part anymore. I was about to step into something far bigger.

And I wasn't sure if I was ready for it.

But I knew, in that moment, that I didn't have a choice.

_____________________________________________________________

I'm so happy that this Commander Colt fic is finally coming to life 🥹

You can find the next chapter here and my masterlist here x

[dragonshoard]

On another note, I ain't justifying shit with the below I'm trying to explain/discuss the environment both these characters came from.

Can we talk about how no one is CHECKING Cait for her actions??? You can argue that Vi tried but did she? did she really? And was Cait in the right mind to accept the advice? Nah. Everywhere else that girl is being ENABLED and APPLAUDED for her actions. Also how she stands virtually alone, especially after the last fight with Vi.

Caitlyn's actions were entirely selfish. So are Jinx's. But people are reacting to those actions and creating their own understanding of why they are happening, which forces Caitlyn and Jinx to react despite the original intentions. Caitlyn is being told she must be a leader, that she must fill her mother's shoes while also literally drowning in grief. Jinx has just lost Silco, her sister, and her general purpose in life. She is passively suicidal at best. Despite ALL of that, she's going to be pushed into the revolutionary leader role in the coming episodes. Both of them are in NO right mind to be leading anything.

Was violent revolution the right answer? Hell if I know. Historically, peaceful revolt didn't seem to have ever been effective in Arcane canon, but there was also never a genuine effort on the part of Piltover to start talks and sabotage at worse. Because Zaunites are seen as a lesser class, a lesser people. Even their vote for independence was laced with that sort of belief.

Because there was no one from Zaun's ruling class at that table. Not Silco, or Ekko, or anyone that could be considered someone of significance (Viktor does not count). Zaun, despite being the subject of the topic, was not offered a seat at the table voting on their own damn independence. Instead, it was a group of individuals who had enabled the oppression of Zaunites whether consciously or unconsciously to make that decision.

It is important to recognize that the oppressed party (Zaun) has certain disadvantages which makes revolution necessary. Not just desirable - but NECESSARY.

Piltover was never going to let go peacefully, no matter what they “declared”. Their tech is literally polluting Zaun's water. Zaun's people are resources to be exploited. And that's not even talking about the literal resources. Or the Ambessa situation.

They're also twin city states, canonically. Far too intertwined to be truly independent of each other. The declaration of independence would have only been the start of a very long battle (and watch how that fragile peace would've shattered with or without Jinx).

[walmartbrandwhatever]

There’s this one jump that Marcia can’t get right, so she works herself to the bone trying to perfect it, and every time she falls she just hears trips voice in her ear telling her that it isn’t good enough. Two bit coming to pick her up for dinner but her telling him that she can’t stop practicing, and when he tries to convince her to go with him she just yells at him- they stand there for a moment then she breaks down crying in this arms. I’m going insane.

Her falling back into the same cycle will always make me so sick. Her just not being able to land this jump. She's just utterly exhausted at that point, she hasn't eaten and she's just mentally beating herself up. OMG Imagine like this causes her to first telling him about trip and how he would yell at her and hes just utterly horrified.

Note: I was cooking so hard this turned into a small drabble so I apologize that it took me so long to answer.

Note: another thing tumblr kept deleting my work so I had to take a step back bc I got upset 😔

By the time Two-Bit enters the rink, he sees Marcia attempt some jump he couldn't remember the name of and fall. He watches her for a second, and the clear frustration is written all over her face as she smacks the ice next to her before pushing herself up and preparing to try it again. He glances around the rink, there was no one other person there than her. Making his way to the entrance of the rink, he called out to her to make sure she at least knows he's there and ended up with no response.

With a sigh, he stops at the opening of the rink and watches her try the jump again and fail it again. He knows she's too exhausted to even do the jump right. He calls out to her again, and thankfully, this time, she turns to him, her face scrunched up as her chest rises and falls far too fast. "C'mon Mar, you ain't goin' to get that jump right. Not tonight. Plus you promised me a dinner doll. " A soft smile rested on his face, and he slowly fell the second he realized that she wasn't even planning on leaving any time soon.

"I can't. I'm sorry Two, I can't get this jump, and I need to perfect it. Maybe another time."

She offers him a half ass attempt of a smile before turning and preparing to try the jump again. "You're never going to get it, Mar, not today, at least. Look, I know you want to get it, but you're exhausted, and I bet you haven't paused to eat anything. Just-"

"You don't know shit Keith." She snapped, turning towards him again. He has never heard Marcia yell, let alone at him, so it catches him by complete surprise.

"You what? Know the basics? You don't get it, and you never will. You'll just know You'll never be good enough no matter where you go!" They both just stand there for a moment staring at each other. Two-bit knows that her anger is directed towards herself. He could see the millions of voices screaming at her, telling her the exact words she just told him. For a moment, she reminded him of Darry. God knows how much that boy works himself into the ground. There was one time after a long practice where Two had tried to get Darry to take a break. Darry had turned and yelled at him. At first, Two-bit was hurt, but standing their wide-eyed, he had seen the pain and anger Darry had, and now here he was standing and looking at Marcia, who held the same look in her eye. Well the anger long gone, just replaced by guilt.

She looked like a ghost when the words she said must’ve hit her because her face drops and she looks just about ready to cry. "Shit, I'm sorry - I," she pushes herself over towards him, guilt written all over her. He took a second to gather his thoughts. He knew she didn't mean it. More than likely, she meant it towards herself.

He gave her a small squeeze before attempting to pull away. He stopped the second he heard a small sob. His eyebrows furrowed,

" it's alright, ain't the first time i've been yelled at. Look, I know you're upset, but let's just take a second to breathe. " he took a deep breath and let it out. She followed his actions, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "There we go. Are you good now?" He watched as she fought back the tears that rolled down her face. Panic quickly filled his body. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. "Hey, hey-hey, whoa, it's alright," he stepped forward, pulling her into a hug.

She wrapped her arms around him tightly, just sobbing into his chest. The genuine pain in her sobs made his heart squeeze because all he wanted was to take all her pain away. He wasn't sure what had gotten her so shook up. The genuine look of fear on her face caught him off guard.

They had stood there for a while, him gently rubbing her back as she cried. Once she seemed to calm down for the most part, he pulled back a bit, just enough to see her face. "Mar hey c'mon talk to me, what's wrong?" She wasn't looking at him. It was the first thing he noticed. Her eyes just burned holes at his chest and her mouth opening and closing a few times before she spoke up. "I'm sorry for yelling at you- God you didn't deserve that.."

"Hey, it's alright, I forgive you. Truly, it happens to the best of us, " his eyes darting around her face, looking for any hints that would tell him what was wrong. "You don't have to tell me what's wrong, but it might help."

That's when she told him about her old partner. At some point, they had sat down as she spoke. Told him about how when things got real stressful, most practices were just her getting screamed at. Yelled at about something that she had done wrong. She then started apologizing and explaining how she could just hear him screaming and the frustration building like it had back then.

It horrified him. Hearing her not only talk about some guy berating her but also berating herself. He gently grabbed her hand and just stared at her for a moment. Marcia took a heavy breath before looking over at him. "Marcia, you never deserved that." Her eyes searched his face, probably trying to find any deceit. "But only if-"

"No, buts. You didn't deserve that point blank no matter how much stress he might’ve been through." Most people think he couldn't be serious, mostly since he's always joking around even in most serious moments, but he can, and in this very moment, he was showing that. He knew Marcia wouldn't believe him, maybe not for a while, but he needed her to know that she didn't deserve getting yelled at. "You swear?"

"I promise. Now how about that dinner?"

She smiled softly, standing up from where she was sitting. For a moment, he thought she was just gonna throw herself back onto the rink, but she headed towards her bag. "Yeah, yeah, just let me pack up"

Watching her unlace her skates and place them onto the bench, he knew that it would all work out. That one day they'd be living life good hand in hand.

[princess-of-the-corner]

God I forgot about Qilin. Cool asfk akuma, arguably one of Gabes best designs, dragged down by the fucking ticket inspection and bringing in the goddamn army. (As well as how the episode felt like it was written avid ACAB Enthusiasts)

my problem with the episode is that it's a bit all over the place in a few spots like.

Firstly take this with a grain of salt because I'm white af

Okay. This is supposed to be an episode about racism and the cops being harder on minorities. But it doesn't.... come across that?

The ticket inspector was initially doing his job. Sabine didn't have a bus ticket. Yes it's because Mari got off the previous stop with the tickets, but if he handwaved everyone who said 'oh I totally bought a ticket but I lost it'.......

Now he does get unreasonable after that, accusing her of being hostile, having her arrested instead of just printing a ticket, etc. But this is also a show where the 'you seem to have broken a law so you immediately get arrested' is not out of place. (I mean sometimes it is BUT it's a 'what works for the story' thing). Doubly so as the target audience is children who sometimes do think 'oh god oh god I sneaked one extra candy they're gonna send a full swat team and arrest me and I'm gonna go to jail!!'.

Then you have the whole thing of literally all the cops showing up for one lady and then the Akuma and then the cops ignoring LB and CN in favor of blasting the Akuma with weaponry despite months of the Heroes handling this on their own. Which at first seems out of place until you remember episodes like Rogercop where all the cops weren't mind controlled they just went 'yeah I guess the obviously Akumatized(controlled by supervillain) cop in a mech suit is in charge because the mayor, who he kidnapped, said so. Time to arrest the Heroes!!". So while it hasn't happened in a while, cops just acting Like That™ aren't out of place in this world.

And like. The ticket inspector is a rando who is only seen here going against Sabine, but we have no idea how he'd act with a white guy breaking the same law. And Roger has been shown to be corrupt as hell toward white people(specifically the Couffaines who as far as we know are white). So it doesn't quite get the message across that this is out of the norm.

Then you have Marinette having to apologize to the ticket inspector who, at this point, is now much more reasonable of 'well she did technically break the law by riding the bus without ticket or ID, but given the circumstances we'll let it go' but Mari insists on paying the fine like he was in the right.

Honestly I feel like this episode suffers from not being direct about what the issue is. Yes it's implied that it's a racism thing, yes most of the audience including the kids will probably pick it up. But when you give that much wiggle room on 'what is motivating this character's actions', then combine it both with stuff that's /supposed/ to be extreme but is par for the course in the series and the protagonist apologizing to the guy who instigated all of this.... it gets very mixed and it can get lost and make people who do see the allegories wonder if they're just reading too much into things.

And I don't know exactly where to place the blame on. Did the writers pull back to try and make the situation more 'relatable to everyone' thus making it relate to no one? Was it a bigger thing of the studio or S&P saying 'hey you can't depict real racism in a kids' show'?

I mean either way there's some blame on the writers for the other flaws like Mari apologizing and undercutting anything the ticket inspector did wrong. But still.

[pastorfutureletthembe]

Could be but I hope Lu Guang knows better than giving false hope to CXS after the earthquake arc :(

We don't know what's the extent of Lu Guang's knowledge on season 2's events to be fair. He doesn't seem to know the twins, for example? Or maybe he did and that was why he tried to keep the childhood photo secret until he couldn't anymore. But a lot of information about the twins eludes him.

He absolutely didn't know CXS would be in the car when Emma got kidnapped. And the whole Emma plotline is a bit messy too. It's like the story is never the same, switch from one way to another. I'm pretty sure it comes out as a murder then a suicide as the shows goes on but I'm not sure. I don't think it would be narrative errors, only CXS and LG messing with the timeline.

In season 2, CXS seems to change many key points by the end of the show, reacting to LG's absence. Obviously, CXS is the one supposed to be kidnapped by Li Tianchen so Lu Guang really went and decided "nope not gonna happen! I believe in you CXS to somehow make it work."

Soooo I really don't know if Emma was supposed to live or die but, allegedly, she's in this situation because of CXS. No way to know if she would have ended her life after losing her job in the original timeline. Or if she ever got fired in the first place. Or if she actually went through to become the kind of innocent girl who comes to the big city to fuck her boss in hope to secure her place in society. Maybe this would have been enough to make her jump. We just don't know.

Truth be told, Emma is one of the most interesting characters in the show. And it is so for more reasons than one.

She's the perfect entry point to the show, her longing for her family introduces us to CXS's personal struggles and loneliness, and all of this presents the boys' powers.

This and, as a character, she embodies what the show really is about, and her story is very common for chinese people from what I've heard. Season 1 was actually very popular because it was about primordial chinese values and struggles. Some episodes are about true events that profoundly marked people in this country. Put time travel aside, it's actually a story about two boys struggling to pay a debt. It's about living to your parents' expectations. It's about the gap between rich and poor; and in one end of it you're barely able to buy food on a daily basis. It's about choosing the right partner to start a business. It's about family. In the end, I think she had to die as an active symbolism that the natural balance is off. What happens after her death is Lu Guang and Li Tianchen cheating.

Sadly, her character is just what it's worth: a tool. For the writers as well as for the baddies in the show. But I would have loved to see more of her (maybe in an alternative reality when CXS and she became friends). I also believe she has a strong impact on CXS, just as much as the earthquake. Because everything about how her life changed from the beginning is because of CXS's actions.

Cheng Xiaoshi is introduced as a passive character. Not a passive personality, far from it, but Lu Guang tries to make him into someone who doesn't create ripples into the river of time (which is basically impossible). Cheng Xiaoshi dives and Lu Guang drives. That's the time travel dynamic we're given and Qiao Ling, as clueless as she can be regarding their business, knows that Lu Guang calls the shots. Lu Guang has an easy role, of course, because he doesn't have to deal with consequences as directly as CXS. To him, the events already happened and there is no changing them. To CXS, the events ARE happening, to HIM. No matter Lu Guang's rules, Cheng Xiaoshi is compromised and thus not only because he lives the memories: there is an emotional contamination between his host's body and Cheng Xiaoshi's soul. Lu Guang is trying to teach CXS this distinction. CXS dives as if it's only business, like he doesn't really care, but he can get deeply involved, real fast. When this happens, he's reckless. He's in danger and can be a possible danger.

People can be appalled by Lu Guang's decision of letting Cheng Xiaoshi go through the earthquake trauma but, in all honesty, it needed to happen. CXS needed to learn his actions have consequences but that he cannot go through an unchangeable node. And he shouldn't. Hypocrite? Well, yes, but it's a reasonable lesson to learn when you have CXS's powers. Not to spoil LCLA, but this arc has exactly the same purpose: proving CXS that he's not playing superhero here, he cannot be doing this for himself, this is real life with real people and he needs to understand the purpose of his dives in order to be able to protect himself.

1) Lu Guang has nothing to return to, he's only diving forwards by taking the back door. Cheng Xiaoshi? Once he changes the past, chances are he won't be able to return to the time he's sharing with Lu Guang and Qiao Ling. 2) Cheng Xiaoshi has no right to decide what needs to happen in the past only to make it easier for people in the present. That's not healing. He lives through his host but he shouldn't give in to what the host wants, should keep in mind what needs to be.

Ironically, Emma's case required Cheng Xiaoshi to be passive and not ease her mind by reaching out to her parents, while the earthquake arc teaches him that it's okay to communicate his host's feelings. In the second case, everyone is at a dead end. Would that imply that Emma wasn't? Does it mean Emma's story wasn't supposed to end? Sending a message to her parents in the middle of the night didn't change anything related to their mission but it did change her path. If Lu Guang wants for her to survive, it either means she is alive in the original timeline or her role shifts from host to Cheng Xiaoshi's downfall.

Again, it's only a supposition but she could be the first nail to CXS's coffin, actively or passively. 1) He would take accountability regarding the role he played in her death. It could send CXS on a very dangerous path, one with guilt, depression and... We know the possible outcome for this. 2) The fact he puts her on Liu Min's path and therefore puts himself on Li Tianchen's radar would definitely be the trigger for his own death. If we project more in the future, we can guess it makes him visible by other power users such as Liu Xiao or Vein. Lu Guang wouldn't want that.

I cannot shake the feeling that Cheng Xiaoshi saving Emma was a needed correction that Lu Guang supported. The reason why he was trying to hide the case from Cheng Xiaoshi and, again, lie to his face about the truth, could be that he didn't want Cheng Xiaoshi to be hurt. He probably knew that if he involved himself with this case, someone will notice him/them.

True, Lu Guang was surprised/panicked when Cheng Xiaoshi's rescue mission almost succeeded but I think he's even more disturbed by the fact someone with ability stepped in the game. Death is supposed to be an unchangeable node but what if this death specifically happened only because someone other than Cheng Xiaoshi played a part in it? That would change things.

In the end, it is a bit difficult to trust season 1 finale when you know they took a different direction than initially planned. This character killing Emma could not be Li Tianchen. Or maybe the one possessing Qiao Ling was supposed to be Vein. The words "this is your punishment for breaking the rules of the games. Now the game has been reset" are ominous as fuck when you know what is probably coming in Yingdu Chapter.

You know what's kinda messed up when you think about it? At the end of S1, Lu Guang let Cheng Xiaoshi try and save Emma. And you're kinda thinking "wtf? That doesn't sound like Lu Guang at all" but then you get to S2 and you realize Lu Guang most likely knew exactly what was going to happen (at least I think so? Time stuff is a bit weird, so idk what all is similar and different with the timelines), so he let Cheng Xiaoshi try and save Emma, knowing full well that Cheng Xiaoshi wouldn't be able to because he knew what was going to happen next.