#but then its full of english everywhere

[aroaceofthesea]

Ive had my phone in english for a while but i changed it back to catalan today and apparently i have tumblr in default language but tumblr doesnt have catalan and damn this is a mess

[decembermidnight]

Beskar and Pearls

Summary: Wearing the luxurious gift the Mandalorian gave you while accompanying him on a business trip turns out to be a pleasurable torture.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: no plot - just smut, 18+ MDNI, teasing in public, Dom!Din, sub!reader, possessive!Din, lots of dirty talk, Din being a sexy arrogant asshole, glove kink, masculinity kink, humiliation kink, hair pulling, unprotected rough sex, mentions of exhibitionism kink, multiple orgasms, multiple creampies (wtf is a refractory period), a hint of overstimulation

A/N: the most coherent thoughts I have while ovulating. I have no excuse. This is FILTHYYYY I hope you enjoy it! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!! Also a big thank you to @thefrogdalorian for making sure it's written in decent English and to @saradika-graphics for the perfect divider 💕

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

The Mandalorian has just landed his ship on Nevarro after spending an entire month catching quarries in the outer rim. He has been away most of the time, but he made sure he'd make up for it every time he came back, too proud and stubborn to admit with words that he missed you, but demonstrating it by spoiling you with luxurious gifts and his body.

You look at him in reverential adoration as he dresses in his armour – a blend of his Mandalorian heritage and the many trophies he acquired from his victims, dark red in colour and dented after many close encounters with death.

He's just finished strapping weapons everywhere on his marvellous body when he addresses you.

“Hey. Got this for you. Wear it. We’re going to the market, I have some business to attend to,” Mando says as he hands you a small drawstring pouch he was hiding in his utility belt.

You immediately open it and its content leaves you speechless. It’s the sexiest piece of underwear you’ve ever seen – an expensive-looking black lace thong with just a string of pearls meant to go between your pussy lips.

If he wants you to wear it while in Nevarro, a lawless planet full of dangerous bounty hunters, you will wear it under the shortest skirt you have. The mere thought of his eyes glued to your ass, hoping to get a glimpse of it while being vigilant of other men at the same time, makes your head spin. You let out an aroused sigh and look at him, impassive as always behind the dark visor.

“That should keep you busy,” Mando chuckles and tilts his helmet.

You immediately wear it along with that short, flowy dress that also happens to be his favourite one on you.

“Let me see it,” he says as his hands grab you by the waist. He brings you closer to him and immediately lifts your skirt. He kneels before you and lets out a satisfied hum when he sees the tempting way the pearls disappear into your slit. The Mandalorian lingers there, dark visor trained on that heavenly view as his gloved hands caress your thighs. The sharp contrast between the coarse leather and your delicate, soft skin gives you a thrill of pleasure. You guess – you hope – the trip won’t take long.

His chestplate rises and falls as he struggles to catch his breath and maintain his composure at the sight of your perfect cunt dressed in pearls. It’s incredible to see how something so dainty could turn out to be so perverse and sinful.

“Come on. Let’s go now,” he says as he stands up. Now at his full height, his imposing figure resumes towering over yours. You admire him in awe, taking in the broadness of his body and the way his armour magnificently highlights it.

He offers you his hand to descend the ramp and as soon as you start walking, you understand why he said that it would keep you busy. With every step that you take, the pearls pleasurably rub against your clit. You can feel yourself getting wet already. There's an aroused expression on your face that Mando does not miss.

"Are you enjoying it?" he asks teasingly.

"Yes," you answer and bite your lip.

"Good,” you can hear how pleased he is seeing you like that after you’ve barely taken a few steps out of the ship. You know the thought of you being so aroused in public while having to control yourself is making him hard. You decide to play his game, see where this leads.

Mando is walking right behind you, strutting proudly as he stalks you like a hunter follows its prey. You feel his gaze trained on your butt, so you accentuate the swaying of your hips to get more friction from the pearls and to seduce him even further, hoping to get a reaction from him.

"Shake your ass as much as you want, you're not getting anything until I'm done here. You're only getting this scum to see how pretty you are. I like it," he slaps your ass and chuckles. You bite your lip to muffle a whimper.

"See the way they're looking at you? If they dare even think of touching you, their dead body will touch the ground before they lay one finger on you," he whispers in your ear as he grabs your hand and positions it over his blaster.

"You are mine," he growls in your ear as he wraps his other hand around your waist. He pulls you close, until the flustered, naked skin of your back touches his cold beskar chest plate. A thrill of excitement traverses your whole body and goes straight between your legs.

No one would be so stupid to touch you, not when a Mandalorian is claiming you as his, not when you can feel his erection against your ass. The whole thing is making you light-headed with arousal, so much that you start to shamelessly rub your ass against his cock. His hand tightens its grasp around your waist as your head rolls back to rest on his shoulder. You sigh in his neck and his hand trails up and wraps around your throat.

"Behave now," the Mandalorian growls as you feel his fingers tightening their grasp, trying to restrain himself from giving into lust already.

“I want you,” you whisper in his neck.

“I know,” he replies confidently before releasing you. What an arrogant motherfucker. You want to make him so hard he’ll want to bring you back to the ship and fuck your brains out, putting his desire for you before his stupid pride and his business. You want him to surrender to his carnal instinct.

The more steps you take, the more desperate you become for relief from this agonising, yet pleasurable torture. The pearls are stimulating your clit mercilessly, without ever getting you close to an orgasm. Your cunt spasms and clenches and what's worse is that he knows. Mando has spent so long quietly studying his bounties that he can tell by the irregular way you're breathing that you're struggling with the sensation. You bet he's enjoying every second of it, smirking under the helmet.

Just before entering the market area, he pulls you closer to him one more time, making you gasp.

"Now be quiet. You wouldn't want to fuck up my business. Be a good girl," he whispers softly in your ear as you feel his hand on your lower belly—close, so close to where you want him the most. Maker, he’s rock hard. You can feel it. You can’t think of anything else when his erection is pressing against your ass and his arm is tightly wrapped around your waist. He lets you go and you enter the market area together.

You try to divert your attention on whatever item they’re selling in the stands but it’s mostly weapons and things for bounty hunters that you couldn’t care less about. You can feel your arousal starting to drip down your legs, making your inner thighs slippery. Your swollen clit is pulsing and begging for attention, but Mando has been clear - you’ll get nothing until I'm done here, and you know nothing could make him change your mind, unless you play your cards right.

He grabs a seat in a beat-up wooden booth, his legs spread wide due to the massive erection trapped in his pants. There is an undeniable air of confidence and arrogance to him when he sits like this, looking so imposing and authoritative. You wish you could just drop to your knees and please him in any way he wants.

"Be my good pretty whore and sit here," Mando invites you to sit on his thigh and you immediately comply. You're so damn wet, you can't keep your legs closed.

"Hmm? Sitting here like this with your legs spread open? Do you want everyone to see your pretty cunt? Better let them know to whom this belongs, don't you think?" he coos in your ear with his husky voice. He knows you're both perfectly concealed and no one could see what's going on under that table. He's doing that just to prove a point—that you belong to him.

You nod mindlessly as his hand cups your cunt and stays there, still, without moving.

"Mando. Mando I need–" you whisper in his neck in a trembling voice.

"Oh. I know," he says, pleased when he sees how flustered you're getting. "Not yet," he growls as one of his gloved fingers trails your slit. He stops right before your clit, making you whimper and grip his arm tight in response. You dig your nails in his flightsuit as he feels how unbelievably wet you are.

"Hey. Behave now," he whispers as a Rodian approaches the booth and takes a seat, greeting him with a nod of his head. He immediately hands Mando a puck.

You have no idea what they’re talking about – you can't focus on anything else apart from the way Mando’s gloved hand holds the puck. You look at his fingers with pure lust, thinking of them touching your clit, pumping inside your cunt, the coarse leather caressing your skin. 

You let your hand trail on his inner thigh and he stays surprisingly calm, not flinching one bit as your fingertips slowly slide higher, until they finally meet his cock. He is so unbelievably hard, you feel him throbbing underneath your fingers as you trail them all over his length. The Mandalorian won't betray any emotion, which turns you on even more. He's perfectly calm and collected on the outside, but you bet he'd love to throw you on that table and bury himself in you.

As soon as the Rodian hands Mando a handful of credits as an advance, he leaves.

"Please. Please, I need you," you whisper in his neck.

"I'm not done here. Be patient."

The throbbing need between your legs causes you to ache so badly that you don’t notice another man has approached and taken a seat until he begins speaking with the Mandalorian.

They're speaking in a foreign language, and Mando’s interlocutor does not seem happy. Judging by their tones of voice and gestures, they appear to be negotiating the fee for Mando collecting a certain bounty that the man needs capturing and he is displeased that Mando commands a high price. You’ve learnt over the time you’ve spent with the Mandalorian that there's not much room for negotiation with him. He has leverage since he's regarded as being the best bounty hunter in the outer rim. The way he speaks is so confident, it makes you even wetter how he does not lose composure while the other man is basically yelling at him. 

He starts running his thumb on the string of pearls digging in your slit, feeling how wet you are for him as he keeps talking to his client while you're sitting in his lap, doing nothing but looking pretty. You're his slut and he wants everyone to know it, but you have to act cool even as he teases you under the table. You have to control the way you breathe, you can't let even the smallest whimper out. Why is this so hot? Why is he so hot?

In the end, the man hands him a hefty amount of credits and rises from the table with a huff, muttering and cursing as he goes.

"Please, take me back to the ship and fuck me. I won't ask for anything else, please," you whisper sensually in the crook of his neck.

"I'm not done here," he tries to appear impassive, but as soon as you resume your touching between his legs, he jerks slightly. You smirk, satisfied.

"Mando…" you trace the outline of his cock with your fingers, feeling how hard his erection is while purring in his neck. His pants are thick, but as you stop right at the tip, drawing circles on it with your fingertips, you can feel the fabric getting slightly damp.

“You’re so hard…” you sigh sensually as you keep rubbing his cock. You hear a choked grunt from him, now that he can’t focus on his job anymore, now that he’s at the mercy of your teasing. You’re so tempting, acting so shameless in public, the thrill of someone noticing the two of you drives him insane and you know it. You’re finally getting your revenge. You can bet he's close to losing control. Mando is twitching in his pants, his breathing getting heavier and heavier...

"Fuck it." He grabs you by the arm and you rush out of the market and back to the ship.

The Mandalorian doesn't even wait for the ramp to close behind him to bend you over the first crate he finds, kicking your legs open with his feet and freeing his throbbing erection. His gloved hands run up your skirt and position themselves around your hips, keeping you steady for him as he slams into you all at once. He meets no resistance from your drenched cunt whatsoever, leaving you breathless as you exhale in a loud moan. You're crushed between the crate and his beskar body, pleasurably forced to take his thick cock. You're only able to let out ragged groans and clamp tightly around him as he finally gives it to you just like you wanted.

"You. Fucking whore. Couldn't wait for me to finish my business. Wanted this dick so much, hm? Are you happy now?!" his thrusts are furious and relentless, his hips crushing your body against the crate with a devastating force. The angle at which he's hitting you is deep, so deep that you can't even prop yourself up on your shaky elbows. You're just getting brutally fucked without dignity.

"You get so disobedient when you want this cock. Maybe I should just tie you up and gag you?"

You can't even mumble words, too absorbed by the feeling of his cock thrusting inside of you, so aroused at the idea of him using your body for his pleasure.

"You're so wet. Damn. It must have been such a torture, right? To be so wet and turned on? Hearing you beg like that made me so fucking hard. Feel it. Feel what you do to me," he rasps as he rails you deep and hard.

The way the pearls are rubbing against your clit and the perfect rhythm of his thrusts are driving you close to the edge already.

"Mando, Mando, I'm–" you can barely mumble as you helplessly drag your hands against the crate.

"Yeah. Come. Seems like it's the only thing that will make you obedient. You wanted it so much, you can have as many as you want today."

'Thank you, thank you, tha–" your blissful chant is abruptly cut as the orgasm takes control over your body. Your cunt clenches hard around his thick cock and your legs jerk uncontrollably, barely touching the ground as he keeps you still and never stops drilling into you as you ride your high. The pleasure is so intense, it leaves you breathless as your cunt keeps involuntarily spasming around him in aftershock. You're panting against the metal crate beneath you, overwhelmed and reduced to a trembling, feeble mess, the coldness of it is a relief against the hot, flustered skin of your body that won't stop begging for him.

"Is this what you wanted, hm? For me to stop everything I was doing to come here and take care of you? Needy girl. You desperately wanted attention, hm?"

You can only mumble in assent, feeling the way he takes out his rage on you.

"Bet you would've let me fuck you in a dirty fucking alley if I wanted to."

"Y-yes–" you reply in a breathy groan, drenching yourself at the mere thought.

"What a slut. What if someone heard you screaming like that? What if someone heard how wet this pussy is when I fuck it? Fuck, you're dripping!"

For a man who barely speaks in normal circumstances, he sure does like to run his mouth when he's buried deep inside of you.

"Yeah. I bet you'd like it if someone saw me fucking you like the slut that you are," he pants and you start whimpering and clamping around him at the idea.

"I knew it. You're such a whore. But you are mine, and I won't let anyone hear these pretty moans and see this perfect cunt. They belong to me. To me," he growls.

"Yes – yes. I fuck–ing b-belong to you," you repeat mindlessly.

"Does it get this much to get you this wet? Just a string of pretty pearls? Looking so fucking good. So fucking good. Are you enjoying it?"

"Yes, Mando!"

"Shit, you're so tight. You're making me come," he says in a broken voice. His thrusts get erratic, as does his breathing "This cunt is so perfect, so fucking perfect," he emphasises the very last word before bursting, spilling hot and wet inside of you in a ragged groan, whining at how good it feels. His muscles tense and he gets rigid behind you, his head rolling back in pleasure.

"Oh, fuck! You're so hot. Spill all of your cum inside of me. Like this, yes!" you cry and start touching your clit, so turned on at the sight and feeling of his orgasm.

The sounds he makes as he comes are the hottest ones you have ever heard. The infamous Mandalorian – stoic, imposing and menacing – is getting lost in the overwhelming pleasure you’re offering him. Your drenched, tight pussy is making that dangerous warrior crumble. You’re so aroused, you need more.

"Please, please don't stop fucking me!" you dare asking him.

"I won't," he grunts as he keeps burying his dick deep, so deep inside of you.

"Don't stop. Don't stop. Oh, fuck, I need you to fuck me harder, please!" you plead as you feel his cum starting to drip down your hole. "Maker, please!" you say as you start frantically slapping and rubbing your clit as you hear the obscene, sloppy sounds of his cock thrusting in and out of you, of his hips slamming against your ass.

"I won't stop. Fuck, I want more. I can't stop. You drive me fucking insane!" he growls, resembling a wild beast, completely overwhelmed by lust. You feel his cock still pulsing inside of you as you get even wetter.

"Look at this perfect cunt. You're so full of my cum, damn, you can't ever get enough of it, can you? Fucking cum slut. Look what you make me do. Just came inside of you but I can't stop fucking this perfect cunt. You want to drain me. Are you proud of yourself, hm? Making me so fucking hard in public and teasing me like the whore that you are."

"Fuck, yes, I'm your whore. Your slave. I'm so close, please–" you mutter deliriously while your fingers and the pearls are rubbing against your clit in a wet, nasty mess of your fluids and his cum. You come hard around him once again, strangling his spent, sensitive cock in your tight grasp and hear him grunting, his grip on your hips tightens and his whole body jerks, but he really can’t have enough.

"Yeah. Yeah. Come on my fucking cock, whore. Let me feel it." he encourages you, gritting those words between his teeth, fighting his own oversensitivity, so addicted to the way you feel around him.

He doesn't stop fucking you, not even after your orgasm. He keeps railing you relentlessly. You bring your hand to your mouth and suck your fingers, tasting the bitterness of his cum blended with the slightly salty taste of your fluids on your tongue. Its taste is addicting, the scent heady and intoxicating in the best way possible.

"You taste so good, Mando. We taste so good together," you drawl, overwhelmed by pleasure.

"Yeah, I bet we do," he grabs a handful of your hair and pulls it to lift your head up, giving it to you even harder, making your eyes roll back in your head. You are screaming, completely entranced by the way his cock is still pumping hard inside of you.

"So damn loud. You like being fucked like this, hm?"

He hits even harder from this angle, keeping you nice and still for him to use as he pleases. You're so busy screaming that you can't even reply to him.

"Yeah. Scream as loud as you want. Let me hear how much you want it. I like it."

You can feel his cum dripping down your legs with every thrust, hearing the sloppy, squelching sounds your bodies make. Mando can't even restrain himself anymore, he’s moaning and sighing at how much he's enjoying it. Your cunt is spasming around him, turned on at the way he sounds.

"You like it, hm? To reduce me like this?" he says in between thrusts.

The truth is that yes, you do. You love making the Mandalorian falter with your teasing, making him so desperate and boiling with lust, he has to leave business to fuck you hard, so hard that any coherent thought leaves your mind. You love it when you can feel the man under all that beskar, when he makes you feel like the most important and beautiful thing in the galaxy.

"Yeah, you do," he answers himself as he slows his rhythm, slipping out of you completely only to slowly bury himself inside of you to the hilt, enjoying the view and feeling of his cock entering into your cunt dripping with his cum.

You bite your lip to muffle your screams just to hear him moaning and sighing as he feels the welcoming warmth of your cunt.

“Mando. Mando, please,” you beg as you feel your legs impatiently shaking as his shaft rubs that perfect spot inside of you with each thrust.

“What?”

“Harder. Please?” you beg, subjugated by that perfect teasing.

He slams into you so deeply that you feel it pulsing against your cervix.

“What? Like this? Hm?” he says as he starts to jackhammer you.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you chant as you resume touching your clit.

“Greedy whore. Ready for another one? I'm not stopping.”

“Mmmm,” you can only reply as you feel another wave of overwhelming pleasure approaching.

You hear him panting as he gives you a few more violent, deep thrusts, driving you over the edge one more time.

“Yeah. Take it – fucking t-take–” he grunts when he feels your walls clenching around his cock, your orgasm pushing him over the edge, too.

A loud, violent snarl rips through his lips as he comes, filling you with his white, thick load once again. The grip of his hands around your hips turns to steel, your eyes roll up so high all you can see is pitch black as he keeps pumping his cock into you as you both ride your high. The feeling completely obliterates you, turning your body and mind into a helpless, exhausted mess.

A huge, satisfied grin forms on your face as you feel him slowly slip out of you and his cum starts dripping down your cunt and legs.

“Good work," he pants "now be a good girl and wait for me while I go back there. Don’t move one muscle and maybe we will pick up where we left off,” he says as he tucks his spent cock in his cum stained pants, not giving a shit about it, looking at the mess he made of you, disrupted and leaking with his seed. Wrecked, used, marked. His.

[ryuusei-niu]

I want to talk about Leo and spanish, because I see a lot of "bilingual Leo" that doesn't make much sense.

Soooo, let me start with this: Leo was not born in a country that speaks Spanish. And only his family talked Spanish. Therefore he would know what the language is like.

But let's not forget that he lives in a place where people speak English.

Well, let me explain this theory based on my life:

I'm argentinian but my mother is Brasilian. Since I was little, Portuguese was spoken in my house. Portuguese was my first language because we were moving to Brazil and I spoke fluent Portuguese until I was 6 years old. But then we stayed at Argentina. So, I had a lot of problems because I did understand Spanish, but I had a lot of mispronunciation and I mixed words between Spanish and Portugues. Over time I had to adapt to speaking Spanish full time, almost completely forgetting Portuguese. Nowadays I'm almost 19 and I haven't spoken Portuguese for years, but there are a lot of words that I thought my whole life were Spanish and weren't.

Based on Leo's story, he might be similar to me in this stuff.

Having said this, let me tell you situations that happen to me with Portuguese that I think would happen to Leo with Spanish:

He forgot how to form complete sentences in Spanish. And even when he tries to relearn Spanish, it is difficult for him and he can't speak or write things in Spanish.

He almost completely understands if someone speaks Spanish to him, though. Maybe he would miss some words but he understands a lot reading or hearing.

He has Spanish words that he always thought were English.

"And then we went to the ferretería and... Why are you looking at me like that... I said something in Spanish again, didn't I?" "Yeah, you did."

Piper and Jason got used to it and know the words he always gets confused.

And there are other words that he refuses to say in English, probably the most common ones, just because he likes how it sound at Spanish.

So whenever he needs to talk about it, he asks Jason or Piper to do it for him.

"I want the... Jason, fresa" "Strawberry flavor, please" "Thank u so much, man"

There are a lot of words that sound funny in English because they resemble words in Spanish

"I'm embarrassed." "You're embarazaste?" "...Yes?" "Wow, Frank, what are you going to name the baby?" "I hate you very much."

Mispronunciations everywhere. But it's something that happens some days. But when it happens it is horribly noticeable.

I mean, he does speak English very well. But sometimes...

SOME LETTERS ARE REALLY DIFFICULT TO HIM SOMETIMES.

People bullied him when he started school because he mispronounced some letters. Like R.

(I think he would have the opposite problem than me, since I was pronouncing the r very soft or as a j without meaning to because in some Portuguese words it sounds like that. So I guess he would have a very strong R.)

Sometimes he would get angry with his mother for instilling Spanish in him so much and that's why the kids make fun of him for talk like that.

Now he miss that his mother speak in Spanish to him.

"DIOS MÍO.", "POR DIOS, JASON", "CHIN", "CARAJO", "JESÚS, MARÍA Y TODOS LOS SANTOS".

Sometimes he says a lot of things in Spanish and makes it seem like he knows how to say them but in reality he used the translator.

"is that a Spanish dictionary...?" "*Kick it under the bed* No, of course not, why would I have one? I know Spanish, muy bueno. Mucho."

"It's very plane." "What? It is not a plane, Leo." "Yeah it is? Like, It is not curved, it has no disturbances. Plane surface." "FLAT, LEO." "NO WAY IT IS THAT. THEN WHAT DOES PLANE MEAN?!#@+$-1(?!"

Now he understands why people looked weirdly at him when he said plane.

He also forget words in Spanish and remember them in English. When this happens he stares at the space and feels his whole soul had lost its essence.

'espanish'

As Spanish speaker, it's very difficult to say 'isn't'. #Team It is not.

"Taired. Terid. Teerid. Tarid. Tæ—" "Tired." "That thing."

"you know, the— the thing. El coso. The coso of the cosito of the cosa—" "You forgot in Spanish too, right?" "Shut up."

SONGS. MEXICAN SONGS THAT HIS MOTHER LISTENED BECAUSE HIS GRANDFATHER LISTENED BECAUSE THEM MAKE HIM REMEMBER HIS HOME.

He doesn't know most of this song, he never listen to this song like, wanting to. They were on the radio, or a CD that his mother was playing while working. But he has those songs on his soul and he recognizes most of them. He even knows how to sing them even if he didn't read the lyrics.

(I'm not Mexican, so please I want Mexican people to make a playlist of which songs he would know. Please I need to know)

He sometimes hears Nico speaking in Italian and for a moment he is there processing because he thought it was Spanish.

(also, this whole thing could apply to Nico and Italian).

[iimplicitt]

WISHFUL THINKING | KA4

pairings: kimi antonelli x unnamed fem! character

summary: kimi has had a bit of a thing for ollie’s best friend for a while now, only issue is, is that she’s under the impression he hates her guts.

song inspo; drive by halsey

warnings: a sprinkle of angst

wc: 2.7k

request; maybe Kimi antonelli, but just like fluff, maybe a bit of angst

It was hard to keep his eyes off her when she came to racing events. No matter what could be going on, no matter what chaos that may be ensuing— she stood out. Not to sound cliche, but Kimi often compared her presence to how rays of sunshine cut through clouds. People couldn’t help but stop and admire her.

It was no surprise that Ollie had been friends with her for so long. When getting into professional racing, it was like friends trickled through a filter. It wasn’t through any fault of their own, really. Life gets busy, schedules don’t match up, and the calls or texts eventually stop.

No matter what life had thrown at Ollie, she was by his side. There was that annoying little feeling buried deep in his chest, just below his heart that felt a bit envious at their relationship. Although Kimi was technically friends with her, it didn’t feel like enough.

He wanted more, and he knew he shouldn’t.

For a whole array of reasons. The obvious being she was Ollie’s best friend. The second, though he might be getting ambitious, is that maintaining relationships is hard in this line of work. Not impossible, that was proven on numerous occasions. But what had also been proven is that they could get messy.

Plus, he wasn’t exactly sure what the full depth of Ollie’s feelings were. He knew the English man cared for her deeply, he knew they hung out all the time, Ollie invited her to races, she would even stay at his house sometimes.

God, those nights where Kimi was invited were the worst.

He could still recall the first night he realised he was done for. Kimi had an early morning the next day so he had called it a night before anyone else, crashing in a spare room Ollie had set up for him. He had found himself looking at her throughout the night. Sure, he had always found her attractive but his throughts typically didn’t expand beyond that. It was such a simple moment, it wasn’t anything to shout at the stars in reckless abandon. Everyone had been out in the back garden for dinner when a bunny had appeared. The way her eyes had lit up, carefully walking towards it. Everyone had expected the bunny to run off at any sudden movement, but it sniffed her hand with its pink nose before cuddling into the scoop of her palm. She refused to move for two hours as everyone talked, not caring her trousers were getting stained by the damp grass. The bunny keeping her company all the while and Kimi watched as the rest of the world faded away from her.

He laid in that bed wide awake for what seemed like hours. Her laugh echoing down the hallway from the kitchen, almost taunting him and he felt his chest constrict with the sound. It was strange, like he was breathing for the first time and his chest had been hallow up until that point.

Ever since then he had looked for her everywhere, sought out the sound of her voice. Part of himself hating that Ollie was the one to make her laugh like that. It was devasting, confusing, and pathetic.

The first day of a race weekend was wrapping up and sweat seemed to cling to him stubbornly no matter how many times he dumped water over his head. His eyes, as always stuck on her and how she smiled up at his friend. He didn’t know what made him ask when Ollie walked up to him, maybe it was the heat or the exhaustion but the words slipped out regardless.

“Do you like her?”

Ollie blinked at him, his cheeks red from the heat. “What?”

Kimi felt childish. They weren’t in primary school but the way his stomach was erupting in butterflies at the mere thought of even holding her hand made him feel like a kid. “You know,” he gestured to her.

Looking over his shoulder in confusion, Ollie spotted who Kimi was talking about and his eyes widened before whipping back around. “No, ew. I mean, she’s lovely. But no.” He then narrowed his eyes as he caught Kimi smile faintly. “Hang on a minute.”

The Italian’s face dropped, not realising he was grinning slightly but he couldn’t help the surge of relief he felt. “What?”

“Do you like her?”

Kimi laughed, trying to brush off the claim but his friend saw through the rouse easily and he wasn’t sure he liked the look that bloomed on Ollie’s face. Not a moment later, Ollie called her over and Kimi felt his stomach drop.

“Wait what—“

“I’m having to do some extra interviews after this, some stuff for Haas. Are you okay if Kimi gives you a ride back to the hotel?”

She nodded, patting Ollie on the arm. “Yeah, that’s fine. Go have fun.”

With a wink in Kimi’s direction, Ollie took off, leaving Kimi to fend for himself. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to thank him or kill him for throwing such an opportunity at him. But opportunity for what? He couldn’t just assume she was interested.

There were small moments he considered, but he was sure he was just being delusional. That she was just being nice. It would be presumptuous of him to think anything could take place, but that small voice in his head urged him to at least try.

Rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly, he met her eyes once before looking away. It wasn’t like she was necessarily intimidating, but he felt overwhelmed when he got to be close to her. “Let me get changed and then we can go, is that alright?”

She shrugged a shoulder impartiality, casual as ever and he wondered what mental training she went through to always be so calm. No matter what seemed to happen, she kept a level head. She was just…calm. Maybe that’s why the bunny walked up to her so easily, he saw somewhere that animals were really good at reading people and he knew she must’ve had a heart of gold.

“I’ll be quick.” He muttered, turning away and immediately kicking himself. Really? Was that all that he had? He had flirted with girls numerous times with a sense of ease that often surprised himself but he was suddenly robbed of all his language capabilities when it came to her.

She watched him walk away, feeling her heartbeat in her ears and every nerve ending felt on fire. If it weren’t for the wall she was leaning against, she was sure she would’ve fell to the floor.

Panic. She was panicking. And she was going to kill Ollie next time she saw him. The bastard knew she’s had a small crush on Kimi for the past year and then he goes and does this? No warning? Ollie was fully aware how she needed time to prep for things or else she would spiral.

Kimi was going to be giving her a ride back to the hotel. Her mind spun with hopeless longing and all the what if’s, not that there would likely be any. Any time her and Kimi were alone together he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. He wouldn't look at her, he’d barely utter a word, just…nothing. No inkling of interest beyond kindness and being friends by default through Ollie.

And it killed her. Even now, he seemed less than thrilled at the prospect of driving her. It was confusing, he didn’t used to be like this. He used to joke with her, be more carefree, let her in a little. Then one day she blinked and it was as if she was this thing he couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard he tried. His texts became few and far between, he never called on a whim anymore, he just stopped. She tended to over think in general but it sent her down a rabbit hole of what did i do wrong?

No matter how many times she thought over their interactions, she couldn't think of anything to make him take such a big step back like that. Her mind would wander; maybe she was being too annoying, maybe she was too much, maybe she was too loud, maybe she was too pushy, all these maybes and she felt like she was going insane.

She really shouldn’t be surprised though, she wasn’t necessarily his type. Which, as much as she told herself not to, she compared herself to all the girls he had dated. Having to ground herself in reality that of course it wouldn’t be her. Because why on earth would it be?

Snapping out of her depressing line of thoughts, she watched Kimi approach. Freshly showered and in a new set of clothes with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He met her eyes once before looking away, “Ready?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, suddenly not overly thrilled by the turn of events. Hopefully the car ride would be quick and the silence not too awkward. She wanted this over with so she could burrow in her hotel room to watch a rom-com and cry.

She followed Kimi to the car he had driven to the track that day, a nice sports car that she couldn’t even begin to fathom the cost of. It didn’t matter how long she had been friends with Ollie, she would never get used to the sheer show of wealth at these events.

Reaching for the door handle, she paused as another hand beat her to it instead, staring at Kimi dumbfounded as he opened the passenger side door for her. He still wasn’t looking at her, but he did gesture with his head for her to get in.

She reality checked the butterflies in her stomach quickly. He could not like her and still be a gentleman, there was no reason to look too deep into it. The leather was clearly expensive and the smell of Kimi’s cologne invaded her senses, smelling warm with a bit of spice and the way it made her head dizzy was a little concerning. No one should smell that good.

Sitting with bated breath, she watched as Kimi walked to the other side before sliding into his own seat. Not sparing her a glance as he got settled and the engine roared to life. Usually she was good with silence but for some reason when it came to the Italian race car driver, the quietness felt suffocating and the air was heavy,

Barely five minutes into the drive she tapped her knees and cleared her throat. Kimi didn’t do anything but raise a brow at her and kept his eyes on the road.

“Kimi?” He hummed in response. “Did I do something to make you hate me all the sudden?”

The way his eyes widened as he turned to look at her for a moment would’ve been comical if it weren’t for the way she felt nauseous as she asked.

“Che? I don’t hate you, why would you say that?”

Despite trying not to, the laugh that left her was painfully dry. “You act like you can’t stand me.”

“Why would you—“

“Kimi, this is the most you’ve spoken to me in months.”

His lips pressed together in a line as he drove, looking at her for another moment before forcing his eyes back on the road. After a moment he sighed, his voice coming out quiet. “I thought distancing myself would help.”

She stared at him, her mind not registering the words properly as she watched the street lights flicker over his face every few seconds. “Help?” Her own voice was a whisper, her heart beating too loudly in her ears and she barely heard herself. Kimi clenched his jaw, seeming to debate with himself as he thought about what to say next and she would’ve given anything to know what was going on in his head.

“Getting into things here is complicated,” he began, struggling a bit to communicate properly what he meant as if he was trying to tiptoe around something bigger. “And with Ollie I just thought it would be messy.”

“So you’ve been ignoring me because of Ollie?”

“I haven’t been ignoring you.” The look she gave him screamed otherwise and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. “No, non è quello che intendevo. Perché è così difficile?” He mumbled to himself before finally turning to look at her. He took a deep breath and she steeled herself for the potential blow to heart he might be about to deliver.

“I like you, tesoro. A lot, but with Ollie being your best mate and the way schedules work I didn’t want to fuck anything up.”

It was as if the world had been yanked from under her feet before the ground came rushing back again, her heart stumbling over itself at the confession. The pure shock of adrenaline and joy mixed with something akin to annoyance bubbled in her throat and she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. “Why would Ollie have anything to do with whether or not you could be with me? I like you too, Kimi. But I’ve been sitting here for months thinking you couldn’t stand me. Even if it was just as friends, that hurt.”

The look on his face made her want to take back all of her words but she knew she meant them. He looked in anguish, hating himself for putting up the walls he had been so keen on keeping in place. Taking it upon himself to protect everyone from any potential emotional damage. She understood the complexities of getting into a relationship with a friend, and how if they go wrong it could blow up in everyone's face. But to not even try? And to just drop off the face of the earth? It wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry, tesoro.” Before she could register her next thought, Kim’s hand reached up and cradled the side of her face, brushing a thumb over her cheekbone as he looked her over like he was trying to memorise every detail. “I love being around you but it felt like torture knowing I couldn’t do anything.”

Leaning into his touch, she shook her head. “Who said you couldn’t?”

“Cara Mia,” his voice was low, as if in warning and he looked at her pointedly.

“Kimi you can’t focus on all the possible negatives, would it really kill you if we kissed?” At her words, his eyes flicked down to her mouth as his hand slid lower to cup the side of her neck, just slightly bringing her closer. She reached her own hand up to gently take hold of his wrist, eyes meeting his and they seemed to glow in the night. “Ti voglio, Kimi.”

His mouth met hers with such urgency one would think he was a man starved for her touch. The feeling of his soft but slightly chapped lips was enough to drive her to insanity and she could cry at the relief she felt. Finally. Finally, they were giving in. He didn’t need to be scared. All they had to do was take it day by day and she was willing to fight for this with him through the fires of hell if it came to that.

The kiss was messy, fueled by months of longing and miscommunication. Missed opportunities and second guesses. Two lonely, young people who wanted to find a sense of security in one another and they were finally getting a taste of what heaven was like. Teeth colliding and the feeling of his mouth against hers, his tongue exploring the inside of her mouth and her hands dug in his hair. Desperate and devastating and neither would ever get enough. They never wanted to. Each touch was electric and they kept chasing that high, shedding any restraints previously held.

It would be hell to deal with sometimes, but they’d make it work.

“Vita mia,” he said it against her mouth, against her neck, he’d pepper it between each breath and kiss as if she was the air that sustained life. “Mi dispiace, I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know, I know.” She kissed him again, expressing everything she wasn’t capable of saying effectively. Wishing she could talk to him freely in his native tongue. Ever since the first night she met him she started to practise. He was everything and more to her.

“Vita mio,” the words barely had time to swim in the air before he was all over her.

tag list; @theonottsbxtch @fortunapre @hearts4acemyluv

pls let me know if you’d like to be tagged in further work!

[nyrasproblm]

And would you go ahead and just cry? 3/3

Jinx × fem!reader | Caitlyn x sister!reader

Summary: Every action has a reaction.

Word Count: 2,9K

Warning: typical canon violence, mention of mental illness, arguments, gunshots, bombs, mourning.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

This contains spoilers for Arcane S2.

< previous chapter

You would laugh at your thoughts if you weren't so nervous. Caitlyn grew up with you and convinced herself that you would give in and remain quiet while she descended on her mournful quest to Zaun?

Crossing to the other side of the bridge was harder this time, since your sister had indeed left the city full of Enforcers more alert than ever. You wrinkled your nose as you slid down the sewer pipe you found along the way, not knowing where it led to the Undercity.

The golden mask did its job of keeping the toxic air from coming into contact with your airways, but it was unsettling to have that on your face. You sighed in relief when you saw the familiar contours of Zaun as you carefully slid down a pipe.

You saw the Grey before you even set foot on the dirty floor of the alley, the green traces of the toxic gas spread everywhere, which was now deserted. Sneaking around, you managed to find them with great difficulty.

The air was sucked from your lungs as you finished climbing the stairs of the abandoned temple, seeing the scene before you: Caitlyn with the rifle pointed firmly forward, in the direction of Jinx, who was lying on the stone table. A little girl tightly clinging to her. Vi straddling them, her gauntlet raised.

Running quickly, you approached the scene, passing by Sevika lying on the ground. Maybe if you had been faster, the bullet wouldn't have hit you the moment you stood in front of your older sister. You heard Jinx shouting something behind you, almost pleading.

Letting out a soft groan, yo u paid little attention to your left shoulder, which was gradually beginning to bleed. Raising your right hand, you grabbed the barrel of the rifle, lowering it. Caitlyn looked at you with slightly wide eyes, breathing heavily.

"What are you...? How did you get here?" she asked, her voice breaking.

"Cait, please." you spoke less firmly than you intended, pain flaring in your shoulder. "Stop it, please."

You could see the pain flaring in her eyes, her gaze flickering between you and the people behind you.

"Get out of the way." she pulled the rifle barrel out of your hand. "Get out!"

"Let's go home, please." you pleaded.

Caitlyn didn't lower the gun, you heard footsteps approaching and soon Vi was at your side, her hands raised.

"Cait, stop it," she pleaded. "There's a child there."

You took the cue and looked back, seeing Jinx with her eyes fixed on you. Her pink irises were looking at you sadly, a few tears had fallen on her pale face. She was holding the little girl, who was clinging to her, tightly. You nodded subtly, hoping she would sense what you meant. She swallowed hard and nodded.

Everything will be okay.

You turned to face forward when you felt a sharp pain in your shoulder, making you groan and bring your hand to the wound. Thick blood stained your hand, causing you to breathe heavily. Caitlyn stared at your actions for a moment, before masking her emotions and staring coldly ahead.

She gripped the rifle angrily, her finger on the trigger. You frowned. She was going to shoot again, but it was Vi who was in front of the gun now, not you. You held your breath and closed your eyes as she pulled the trigger.

Silence reigned over the place for a while, only the sound of heavy breathing was present. Opening your eyes, you breathed a sigh of relief when you saw the barrel of Caitlyn's rifle crushed by Vi's gauntlets, who were holding the gun down.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sevika stagger to her feet and walk over to one of the walls, feeling around until she found something and activated a mechanism.

"No, no, no! It wasn't supposed to be like this!" you heard Jinx exclaim before Janna's giant mural shattered and a large amount of furious wind began to pour out of it.

You barely had time to register anything else before you were violently pushed by the wind, which was mixed with Grey. You were thrown away from the room, groaning as your injured shoulder hit a rusty pipe, where you held on. You saw Vi doing the same, a few feet below you, with Caitlyn holding her hand tightly.

You fell hard as the wind stopped, your vision going black for a moment as your injured shoulder hit the ground. Vi and Caitlyn's blurred voices were close to you, altered. They were arguing about something.The sound of a thud was heard, followed by a groan and a low cry. You groaned and tried to get up, hearing the footsteps of heavy boots approaching, soon feeling Caitlyn's slender arms around you, pulling you up cautiously.

When Caitlyn wrapped her arms around you and your vision cleared, you saw Violet lying on the floor, her hand on her stomach. She was the one crying. Caitlyn guided you up a flight of stairs, supporting your body with hers. As you climbed, she didn’t look back.

The bullet wound in your left shoulder had been stitched up and was healing. The same couldn’t be said for your relationship with your sister. Caitlyn seemed more and more distant and you were no different. The silence in the mansion was deafening.

Caitlyn seemed like a different person now. Spending more and more time with General Medarda, sleeping with one of the officers who was on her staff. It seemed like self-destruction, from your point of view.

And you... well, siblings are each other's mirror images. You were in a bad way, too. Spending most of your days in your room or in the laboratory in one of the mansion's poorly frequented corridors.

You loved working on your projects, but what little excitement was crushed when you automatically thought of Jinx while working. 'Jinx would think this is cool, Jinx would like to see this, Jinx could help me solve this.'

At least she was okay. The injury to you shoulder had been worth it.

Sighing, you leaned back over your desk, looking at the notes you were making, you had barely started writing again when the heavy door opened. Lifting your head in slight irritation at being interrupted, you frowned even more when you saw Caitlyn standing there, in her uniform.

"I didn't find you in your room, I thought you would be here." she spoke softly, looking a little embarrassed.

"A while ago, a certain commander threatened to arrest me because I didn't wait for permission to enter her room." you said softly, looking back at your notes. She laughed softly and you made a satisfied expression. "What are you looking for me for?"

She crossed the room in soft steps and leaned against the table, crossing her arms in front of her chest, sighing softly. "How's your shoulder?"

"It's... fine? It's healing." you raised an eyebrow. "But you came here to ask that?"

She let out a sigh and closed her eyes, bringing a hand up to rub the crease that had formed on her forehead.

"I need... I need to ask you a favor." she turned to you. "Before you curse at me or fight with me, I need you to hear me."

You looked at her expectantly, your eyes widening and your eyebrows raised again.

"I want you to come with me and Ambessa, to get something and someone," she continued, encouraged by your silence. "We have a suspicion that something we're looking for is in the fissures."

"And what does that have to do with me?" you asked.

"Besides what we're looking for, let's take the opportunity to try to locate Jinx." you opened your mouth to protest and she held up her hands asking for patience. "Let me explain."

"I thought you had already forgotten about that." you closed your expression.

"I asked you to pay attention." she snorted.

"Did you come here to ask me to help you hunt her? Have you lost your mind?" you raised your voice, standing up from your chair.

"We're not going to hunt anyone down, I just want her to pay for her crimes." she walked over to you. "That's the logical thing to do. Are you so blinded by her that you can't think rationally?"

"Don't start that again! I know she should pay for her crimes, but we both know what will happen to her if she goes to jail. The sentence won't be fair, they'll want to punish her for crimes she doesn't even remember committing, Caitlyn." you said, feeling your chest hurt.

"These crimes don't cease to exist because she doesn't remember," she nearly growled. "She killed our mother."

"I know!" you yelled, turning your angry face towards her. "You don't need to remind me of that again."

"And you forgave her," she grumbled, her face twisted in anger.

Sighing, you shook your head. "This isn't going anywhere."

"Not if you don't trust me." she approached with soft steps, placing her hand on his good shoulder. "I don't want to fight anymore, I didn't come here to fight."

"I can't do this to her. She needs help, not to be trapped for the rest of her life." your voice trembled.

“She’ll get help, and she’ll be sentenced to the equivalent of her crimes.” Caitlyn’s voice softened, her tender gaze directed at you. “You’ll be able to see her whenever you want.”

"She'll never forgive me." you replied, staring into her eyes with pain. "You don't understand."

"If we testify on her behalf, she won't be in jail for as long." she reached out to caress the side of your face. "I know how you feel."

You pulled away from her touch and crossed the room, stopping in front of the window. “You have no idea.”

Looking up at the large iron gates inlaid with your family crest, you realized. Caitlyn would never stop. She wouldn’t give up on going after Jinx. The pain in your shoulder returned, making you clench one of your fists.

"No one's going to hurt her, right?" you turned to Caitlyn. "If you promise me no one will touch her, I'll help you."

"I just want her arrested, that's all." she replied.

You knew you would quickly find her among the residents of Viktor's community, her blue hair made her stand out. Your face lit up when you saw her long braids in the distance, she was sitting on a rock with the same little girl from before.

Walking at a fast pace, you barely had time to speak before the little girl pointed at you.

"Boo!" you jumped in front of Jinx.

Her big eyes widened as she stood up and spat the grass she had been chewing onto the ground. The shocked expression only lasted a few seconds and soon she was clinging to you, only to pull away again and look you in the eye.

"You're okay." she said, her eyes darting to look at you fully.

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" you joked. "I'm with you."

"Last time I saw you, you'd been shot." she assumed a playful expression. "My hero!" she stood on one leg and threw herself at you, waving dramatically.

You were going to answer, but the quiet little girl started jumping excitedly at what Jinx said, you smiled slightly and pushed Jinx so she would let go of you.

"Is this yours?" you gestured.

"This is Isha." she walked over to the little girl, bending down and pushing the large helmet she wore on her head. "Surprise! Now we're both her big sisters."

"Oh? She just chose us to take care of her?" you held out your hand to Isha, who took it and you shook it quickly, making her laugh. "Poor her."

Jinx laughed and stood up, wrapping one of her thin arms around your shoulder and starting walking, looking back to see Isha continuing to play.

"You know, I... missed you." her slightly hoarse voice expressed sincerity. "I thought I wouldn't see you again."

You turned your face to face her: "You won't be able to get rid of me that easily."

"How lucky I am." she spoke again with the same playful tone as always, climbing onto one of the metal structures, extending her hand to help you climb up as well. "How did you find me?"

Your stomach sank and you quickly covered it up. “I always know where you are.”

She let out another giggle and lay down, pulling your arm so you could lie down next to her, your legs dangling over the edge. Just like they did on the giant propellers in her hideout. Staring at nothing in particular, you let out an amused snort as she lifted her left hand, showing you the contraption that was now replacing her middle finger.

"What happened to your finger?" you asked.

"Your lovely sister Lieutenant Colonel shot my hand." she sighed, lowering her hand again.

"She's a commander, actually." you corrected. "She never misses a shot."

"So she just wanted to tear off one of my fingers? Cool." she laughed hoarsely. So, do you want to see my dad?"

"Your dad?" you frowned, remembering what happened with Silco. "I thought your dad-"

"Look." she sat down and pointed to one of the rooms, which had a glass roof.

Your breath caught when you saw it. The thing Ambessa wanted, the beast she hunted with determination, was lying there, sleeping peacefully.

"Is that thing your father?" you asked without realizing it, and felt Jinx playfully elbow you in the ribs.

"Hey, he has a name, and it's not 'thing.'" she said softly. "It's Vander. We came here to heal him."

You didn't respond to her explanations, instead you changed the subject and she started babbling again. Everything seemed normal again. Everything seemed fine when you were with her, listening to her babble about whatever it was. At one point, Isha came to you, carrying fruits and other things.

"Here, eat!" Jinx pushed one of the fruits into your hand as she bit into one herself, revealing the juicy, blue insides. "I've already eaten a lot," she said with her mouth full.

You bit into the plump fruit, feeling it fill your mouth. Jinx turned around and started fiddling with what Isha had brought for her, making you frown. “I thought you weren’t allowed to bring weapons in here.”

"Do you think I would walk around unarmed?" she scoffed, slinging the pistol at her hip.

You just sighed, looking back forward, your face contorting in confusion when you saw Caitlyn with that horrible doctor, standing next to Jinx's father.

"What is he doing here?" you heard Jinx's stern voice beside you and turned your head to look at her, seeing her glare at the man.

"Jinx, I need-"

You didn't have time to finish. It all happened very quickly.

Jinx jumped from the roof to help Caitlyn when she stopped the doctor from injecting something into Vander. Ambessa's warrior went after the two, but you couldn't help, seeing Isha looking around without knowing what to do.

You grabbed her hand and climbed down from where you were sitting, looking around for help. You didn't remember when Isha let go of your hand. Ambessa's warriors were everywhere, Vander looked savage now, you didn't have any weapons in your hand. Caitlyn suddenly appeared, with Vi beside her.

You managed to defend yourself from one of the soldiers, picking up his spear from the ground, but it didn't last long when you were pushed and it fell from your hand. As you stood up, you heard Jinx's scream and looked around desperately to try to find her. Then you saw Isha, with her little hands around the pistol, pointing it at the sky. With a gasp of terror, you witnessed the flash of the explosion illuminate the sky. And your vision went black.

War is deafening. Your ears rang all the time with the sound of gunshots, metal chains and death. The smell was also strong. You stood firm at the post where Caitlyn had asked you to stay, hidden, with the scope of your rifle helping you see in the distance.

You fired every now and then when you saw someone approaching the team that was taking your bomb to the giant anomaly that was pulling Viktor's cocoon through the destroyed streets. You were sure it would work. The bomb would explode as soon as the needle reached the end.

You had to run away from where you were when Ambessa signaled for someone to shoot you. Running almost aimlessly through the streets, you stopped when you heard a familiar sound in the sky.

The few minutes Jinx spent firing at the Noxian forces filled your body with hope. But that was all crushed when the airship crashed into the Hexgate tower. And you knew nothing was going to be okay when you saw the familiar explosion of the monkey bomb as you entered the place.

Your scream must have been loud and painful, but you weren't sure. The pain numbed you and you couldn't hear anything else.

You didn't know how much time had passed since the incident. Your pastime now was sitting on the roof, with your legs dangling over the edge. The destroyed head of the monkey bomb was a comfort, in a way. You placed it on your lap and pulled the small piece of white paper and the lighter from your pocket, placing the flame on one end of the paper and releasing it into the air.

What were you going to do now? She never taught you to forget her.

With a shaky sigh, you squeezed the rest of the monkey bomb and closed your eyes.

"Why are you holding that old thing?" a husky, playful voice asked behind you.

Eyes wide, you turned to look.

[lovelynicho]

"So let's go see the stars"

Pairing: boyfriend!Taesan x gn!reader

Genre: fluff, little suggestive at the end

Warnings: making out in public; not proofread (lmk if I made mistakes)

Note: this has been in my mind since forever, I decided to finally write it down; it's not a request again, so sorry for that TT; english is not my first language I apologize for any mistakes

Masterlist

It was really late. You didn't know the exact time but it was definitely late. The sky is in its darkest phase, the only things that are lighting it are the little stars everywhere where you can look and the beautiful moon that has just started waning. You were on the hood of the car, laying back, Taesan on your left, laying centimetres from you, a blanket creating a soft place for both of your heads. Your pinky is tangled in his softly as both of you were just staring at the sky, momentarily taking glances at each other.

You didn't even know what you were still doing here. You went out for a car ride to watch the sunset at a good spot where the scenery is so beautiful you couldn't imagine any better. But after the sun went down the two of you decided to lay down and stargaze just for a few minutes. But those minutes turned into more and more until hours passed and you were still there. Laying on the hood of the car, too afraid to move your legs as to not cause any damage to the vehicle but still feeling comfortable. Comfortable.... because when you're together, you're always comfortable.

But even the beautiful stars and the silent thinking can get boring after some time so you decided to look at something that was even prettier than the night sky: your boyfriend. The way his black hair, that was so similar to the color of the sky, created a contrast with his pale skin was so captivating. His eyes looking straight to the sky only stopping the gazing when he had to close his eyelids for a short moment for a blink. The shape of his nose was the most outstanding as you were staring at his side profile, but you still settled on his slightly parted lips that had this beautiful pink tone and you were sure it would taste amazing if you kissed him.

"Enjoying the view?" A deep voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You noticed that smirk on his lips that clearly meant, he noticed your staring and definitely wanted to tease you about it.

"I couldn't help, you looked too pretty under the sky" your answer seemed to satisfy him because when you finished the sentence his smirk grew into a grin that was clearly a sign of happiness.

You looked into his eyes. So full of love. You don't think anyone has ever looked at you the way he looks at you. Those dark eyes were shining, they were even more mesmerising than the stars above you. And you don't think you have ever looked at anyone else the way you look at him, when you can feel your heartbeat in your chest and millions of butterflies in your stomach.

You loved these moments. When words weren't needed. When it was just the two of you sharing silent love. You noticed his glances at your lips right before he started to lean closer to you. Soon he closed the space between the two of you. His lips felt amazing on yours, tasting as good as you imagined before. Every single kiss with Taesan was special somehow. Maybe it was the way he gently caressed your face or waist, or maybe it was just a feeling only he could make you feel. But it was special.

Soon he broke the kiss sitting up right before he stood up to get in front of you. You tought that was the end of the night out here so you got ready to leave the hood of the car yourself, but he stopped you when you were still sitting on it.

"Stay there" he whispered so quietly you were sure that if you were just a few centimetres further from him you wouldn't even be able to hear his words. But you did what he said, you just kept sitting on the car, curious about what his plans were.

Those plans weren't so hidden for long, only for a few seconds before he put his soft lips against yours again. Moving them slowly and gently at first, but soon they got stronger. He bit softly in your lower lip and as a result you opened your mouth allowing his tounge in your mouth. The kiss that started so slow and soft turned into a passionate make out session very soon. You opened your legs so he could stand between them to get even closer to you. His hands on your waist drawing circles on the skin under your shirt while your hands were grabbing his hair making him growl into the kiss.

You don't know how long that make out session lasted. It was long. But how could you stop when he tastes so good, when he knows exactly what to do with his hands and lips and what words to whisper against your lips? "Shall we go home?" He asked. You can't just keep making out in public afterall. So you gave him a nod, excited to continue what you started the moment you step into the apartment.

[lila-lou]

✨Houston - Pt. 2/2✨

Summary: While Jensen was away filming, a hurricane hit and you had to face it alone, burdened by a secret. When Jensen finally returned, relief and fear collided as you shared the news.

-requested-

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, ANGST, Fluff

Word Count: 5722

A/N: No hate towards anybody. It's just fiction.

English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 🩷

Meanwhile, Jensen sat in the plane, his leg bouncing nervously as he stared out the window. He had barely slept since hearing about the hurricane, his mind consumed with worry about you. The relief he had felt when his flight finally boarded was fleeting—now, all he could think about was getting to you. He needed to see for himself that you were okay, that the house had held up, and that you hadn’t been hurt during the storm.

The flight had seemed to drag on forever, and now, as the taxi slowly made its way through the neighborhood, his stomach churned at the sight before him. Chaos. Pure chaos. The remnants of the storm were everywhere—trees uprooted, power lines down, debris scattered across the streets. The taxi driver struggled to navigate through the mess, constantly having to stop and weave around fallen branches and debris.

Jensen stared out the window, his heart sinking further with every turn. The fire department was out in full force, and neighbors were already outside, doing their best to clean up the damage. But the destruction was impossible to ignore. Several houses looked like they had taken a beating—older homes missing porches, shattered windows, even one house that had its roof torn away by the storm. Cars had been flipped or smashed by falling trees, some nearly unrecognizable.

Jensen clenched his jaw as the car crept closer to home, his heart pounding harder with every piece of damage he saw. This was exactly what he had feared, what had kept him up all night. The thought of you being in the middle of this, alone, terrified, made him sick with guilt. He had brushed it off as “just a little rain”, and now he was driving through what looked like a war zone.

But as the taxi turned down your street, his eyes went straight to your house. Relief washed over him as he saw it still standing, mostly untouched, aside from some debris scattered across the yard. The house, which had been renovated just a couple of years ago, looked sturdy—massive stilts holding it high above the ground, windows intact, the roof still in place. You had insisted on the renovations, on making the house as secure as possible. He had thought it was a bit overboard at the time, but now, looking at the destruction around him, he was beyond grateful that you had been so insistent.

The taxi came to a stop just down the street, unable to drive any closer due to the debris blocking the way. Jensen paid the driver quickly and practically jumped out of the car, his feet crunching on the broken branches and debris as he hurried toward the house. His heart was racing as he climbed the steps to the porch, which, to his relief, was still intact, though bits of leaves and broken tree branches littered it.

“Please be okay”, he whispered to himself, fumbling for his keys with shaking hands. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, the silence inside the house overwhelming after the storm he had driven through.

“Babe?”, he called out, his voice tight with worry. The house was still kinda dark, the power clearly not restored yet, but it was eerily quiet compared to the chaos outside. He dropped his bags by the door and immediately started toward the guest room where he hoped you had taken refuge.

When he pushed open the door, his breath caught in his throat. There you were, curled up on the bed, wrapped in the blanket, fast asleep. The sight of you, safe and sound, made his chest tighten with emotion. Relief hit him hard, so much so that his knees almost buckled.

Jensen walked slowly toward the bed, careful not to wake you just yet. He could see the tear stains on your cheeks, the exhaustion written all over your face. You had been through hell last night, and he hadn’t been there for you. The guilt settled in deep, but right now, all that mattered was that you were okay.

He knelt down beside the bed, reaching out to gently brush a lock of hair from your face. His fingers were trembling slightly, but he just needed to touch you, to reassure himself that you were real, that you were safe.

“I’m so sorry”, he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he watched you sleep. He had been so wrong. So, so wrong. And now, seeing you like this—vulnerable, curled up in the middle of the storm’s aftermath—he promised himself he would never brush off your fears again.

For now, he was just grateful that you were here, safe.

Jensen had just begun to stand, moving as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb you after the hellish night you’d just had. But as he shifted to leave, your eyes suddenly snapped open, wide and full of alarm. You blinked quickly, disoriented, your heart instantly racing as you jolted upright, still tangled in the blanket. For a moment, you didn’t know where you were, the remnants of the storm and the hours of restless fear swirling in your mind.

“Jensen?”. Your voice was barely above a whisper, laced with confusion and exhaustion. The sight of him standing there, in your room, felt surreal—like a dream you weren’t sure you believed yet.

Jensen froze, his eyes locking onto yours, and you could see the mixture of relief and guilt swimming in his gaze. He knelt back down beside the bed, his hand immediately reaching out to touch your arm, his thumb brushing your skin in gentle reassurance.

“Hey, it’s me”, he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean to wake you”.

You blinked again, tears instantly welling in your eyes as everything from the past night rushed back to you. The storm, the fear, the feeling of being so utterly alone… and now, seeing him here, in front of you, after all of it—it was too much. Without thinking, you threw your arms around him, pulling him close, needing to feel the solid warmth of him. Your body trembled against his, and you felt his arms tighten around you, pulling you into the kind of embrace that made everything else melt away.

"I missed you”, you whispered, your voice trembling as you pressed your face into his shoulder. The warmth of him, the familiarity, the safety—everything you had been craving through the terrifying hours of the storm—was finally here. You held him tighter, your arms wrapped around his neck, refusing to let go as if he might disappear again.

Jensen’s arms wrapped around you securely, his body shifting as he slowly sat down on the floor with you, cradling you in his lap. His legs stretched out underneath you as he leaned back against the wall, pulling you closer to him. He ran a hand gently through your hair, his other arm firmly around your waist, holding you as if he could shield you from everything you had been through.

“I missed you too”, he murmured softly against your hair. His voice was thick with emotion, the weight of his guilt still lingering in his words. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here”.

You shook your head, not ready to let go of him or the comfort of this moment. “It’s okay… you’re here now”, you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady, though the tremor of relief and lingering fear was still there.

He held you tighter, his breath warm against the top of your head.

You stayed like that for quite a while, wrapped up in the warmth of his embrace. His hand moved rhythmically through your hair, and you let yourself relax into him, feeling the tightness in your chest finally start to ease. It was the first time in hours that you felt safe, like you could finally breathe.

But even though the storm outside had passed, the one inside you hadn’t. The weight of what you needed to tell him pressed heavily on your heart, making it harder to fully sink into the comfort of his arms. You wanted to stay like this forever, safe and protected, but you knew there was something else, something you could no longer keep to yourself.

Eventually, Jensen shifted, pulling back gently, just enough to look at you. His eyes searched your face, concern still flickering in the depths of his gaze, though his hands remained firmly on your waist, as if grounding you. “It’s okay now”, he whispered softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “It’s over. You’re safe”.

His words were meant to comfort, but they stirred something deeper within you. It wasn’t over—not for you. Your lips trembled as you met his gaze, your heart pounding against your ribs. The tears that had been threatening to spill over since you’d woken up began to gather in your eyes again, but this time, they weren’t just from the relief of surviving the storm.

Jensen’s brow furrowed as he noticed the fresh tears welling up. He cupped your face, his thumb gently wiping at the corner of your eye. “Hey… it’s okay”, he said softly, his voice filled with concern. “It’s over now. I’m here”.

But it wasn’t just about the storm. You knew that, and deep down, so did he. You could see it in his eyes—the way he studied you, the way he seemed to sense that something else was wrong. The weight of your secret had become too heavy to bear, and the fear that had consumed you last night was nothing compared to the fear you felt now, sitting here in his arms, knowing what you had to say.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper as the tears began to fall freely. “It’s not… it’s not just the storm, Jensen”.

His eyes widened slightly, his expression softening with concern as he leaned in closer. “What is it, sweetheart? Talk to me”, he urged gently, his voice steady and reassuring. He stroked your hair, his touch calm, but you could feel the tension building in him, too. He knew there was more.

Your heart raced as you searched for the words, feeling the enormity of what you were about to tell him weigh heavily in the air between you. It had been gnawing at you for weeks, and you had tried so hard to push it down, to pretend it could wait. But now, after everything, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. It was now or never.

Your heart pounded even more in your chest as you tried to gather the courage to say the words. But instead, what came out was a trembling whisper: “Something happened”.

The moment the words left your lips, you felt Jensen tense. His eyes, which had been filled with concern and love, suddenly shifted, guarded now, as if a wall had gone up between you. His hands, once resting so protectively on your waist, slipped away slowly. He stared at you, his expression unreadable, but you could see the flicker of something darker behind his eyes—fear, uncertainty, maybe even suspicion.

“What do you mean, ‘something happened’?”, he asked quietly, his voice tight, controlled. There was a noticeable shift in his tone, and it made your stomach churn. He had pulled back, both physically and emotionally, and you could sense the guardedness, the way his body language changed, as if bracing for something painful.

You blinked in confusion, watching as his entire demeanor shifted in front of you. His hands, which had moments ago been cradling you so tenderly, were now resting on his knees, clenched into loose fists. His eyes were still on you, but they held a different kind of intensity now, as if he were preparing himself for the worst.

You opened your mouth to explain, to say the words that had been weighing on your heart, but Jensen spoke first, his voice suddenly low and careful. “What happened, exactly?”. He sounded like he was struggling to keep his emotions in check, and it took you a moment to realize why.

He was thinking something else entirely—something you hadn’t intended to imply.

The realization hit you like a freight train, and your heart sank. You saw the way he was looking at you now, the way his body had stiffened, and it became clear. He was thinking of something worse. He was thinking that maybe… you had done something to betray him while he was gone.

His guarded posture, the flicker of hurt in his eyes—it all made sense now. This wasn’t just about you being scared; it was deeper than that. He’d been through this before, hadn’t he? The memory of Danneel—his ex—flashing in your mind, of him telling you once, in a quiet and vulnerable moment, that she had said those exact same words to him once: “Something happened”. And what had followed had shattered him.

“Jensen, no”, you whispered, suddenly panicking at the thought of him believing that. “It’s not what you think. It’s not—”.

Jensen’s entire demeanor shifted in an instant, his face hardening as he pulled back further, the tension in his body palpable. His eyes darkened with a mix of hurt and anger, and when he spoke again, his voice was no longer soft or gentle. It was sharp, raw, like a wound reopening.

“The fuck it’s not what I think?!”, he snapped, his voice loud now, echoing through the room in a way that made you flinch. The anger was clear, but it was the pain in his voice that hit you hardest. “You say ‘something happened’ and then expect me not to think the worst? You think I don’t remember those words, don’t remember what they meant the last time someone said them to me?”.

His words cut deep, and you could see how much it was costing him to hold back. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tight, his body vibrating with the effort to control his emotions. The hurt in his eyes was so raw, so deep, it nearly broke you.

“No, Jensen, please”, you pleaded, your voice trembling as tears welled up in your eyes. “It’s not what you think. I swear, I would never—”.

But he wasn’t listening. Not fully. He was lost in his own pain, his own fear. “You have any idea what it’s like to hear those words again? After everything I went through with Danneel?”. His voice cracked, just slightly, but it was enough to show the depth of the wound this had opened. “She looked me in the eyes and said, ‘something happened,’ and it tore my life apart. I can’t—”.

You reached for him, desperate to make him understand, to make him see that this was different. “Jensen, please, just listen to me”.

He pulled back, his hands shaking as he ran them through his hair, pacing now, his emotions too much to keep bottled inside. “How can I just listen when the same damn words are coming out of your mouth? How can I not think—”. He stopped himself, his breath ragged, his chest rising and falling quickly as he tried to calm down, but you could see the storm inside him raging just as fiercely as the one you had endured the night before.

“I would never do that to you”, you said, your voice small but firm, tears spilling over now as you stood frozen in place, watching the man you loved unravel in front of you. “Jensen, please… it’s not what you think”.

His pacing slowed, but his expression was still dark, his eyes full of guarded hurt. “Then what the fuck is it, huh? If it’s not what I think, fucking tell me!".

The silence that followed was thick with tension. Your heart raced as you realized how quickly things had spiraled out of control. You had meant to tell him the truth, to relieve yourself of the secret that had been weighing you down, but now everything felt so much heavier.

You took a deep, shaky breath, your hands trembling as you finally said the words you’d been too afraid to say. “I’m pregnant”.

Jensen stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening in shock. The anger that had been radiating off him seemed to falter, replaced with disbelief, confusion. He stared at you, unblinking, as if he hadn’t fully processed the words you had just spoken.

“What?”.

His voice was quiet now, almost a whisper, as he looked at you like he didn’t quite understand.

“I’m… pregnant”, you repeated, tears streaming down your face, your voice breaking with the weight of everything that had built up inside you. “That’s what I meant when I said something happened”.

Jensen stood frozen, his face a mixture of shock and confusion. The anger drained from him in an instant, leaving behind only disbelief. He ran a hand over his face, taking a few steps back as if trying to wrap his head around it.

“You’re… pregnant?”.

His voice was barely audible, his eyes searching yours for confirmation, for understanding.

You nodded, your eyes falling to the floor as tears streamed down your cheeks. The weight of everything you’d been holding in felt unbearable now. You could barely bring yourself to look at him, terrified of what his reaction would be. Jensen stood there, staring at you in stunned silence, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as he took in the enormity of your words.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. You watched as his expression shifted—his eyes distant, his mind racing with a million thoughts. You could feel the tension rolling off him, the stress of the last weeks, the sleepless night, the whirlwind of emotions from just minutes ago. All of it seemed to come crashing down on him at once.

Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the house, so loud and forceful that it made you jump. You heard the sharp crack as the doorframe splintered slightly under the impact, the sound tearing through the silence that followed. It was a small but audible reminder of just how broken everything felt in that moment.

You stood frozen, staring at the door, your heart pounding in your chest. The tears that had already been falling now came in a flood, uncontrollable, as the reality of what had just happened sunk in. He had walked out. He didn’t say a word.

Your legs felt weak, and you slowly sank to the floor, pressing your back against the wall as sobs wracked your body. The weight of the silence was unbearable, each second stretching into what felt like hours. You couldn’t shake the image of his face—his eyes wide with shock and disbelief, his body tense with so much emotion that he had seemed ready to explode.

And then he had just left.

Your mind raced, every possible scenario flashing before your eyes. Was this it? Was this the moment everything fell apart? The thought twisted painfully in your chest, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to find some small comfort, but there was none. You were terrified. You had always known that this news would be difficult, that it might hurt him, but you never imagined he’d react like this. Not like this.

Minutes passed, though it felt like an eternity, and with every tick of the clock, the fear inside you grew.

You wondered where he had gone. If he would come back. If he was okay. Your heart ached with worry for him, but you were also hurt—crushed, really—by the way he had left. You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to fix this or if you even could.

You wiped your tear-streaked face with shaky hands, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you tried to regain some semblance of control over your emotions. You didn’t know how long you sat there, curled up on the floor, waiting. Waiting for him to come back. Waiting for answers.

Waiting for anything.

The minutes stretched on until the faint sound of a door opening in the distance jolted you from your thoughts. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly wiped your face again, pushing yourself up off the floor. You held your breath, listening for movement, for any sign of him coming back, but all you heard was the soft creak of the floorboards.

A few seconds later, Jensen appeared in the doorway, his expression still unreadable, but his anger seemed to have faded, replaced by something deeper—something you couldn’t quite place. His shoulders were slumped, and there was a weariness in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The tension hung thick between you, but there was also an unspoken understanding that everything had changed. He stood there, his hands stuffed into his pockets, staring at the floor as if the weight of what had just happened was too much to bear.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice hoarse and strained. “I needed some air”, he muttered, his eyes still fixed on the ground. “I just… I didn’t know what to say”.

You nodded, though the gesture felt hollow. “I get it”, you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I wasn’t expecting this either. I just… I didn��t know how to tell you”.

Jensen slowly lifted his gaze to meet yours, his eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and confusion. He took a step forward, and for a moment, you thought he might turn away again, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood there, watching you, the raw emotion between you so palpable it was almost suffocating.

“I’m sorry”, he said quietly, his voice cracking with emotion. “I shouldn’t have stormed out like that. I just… I couldn’t think. I didn’t know how to process it”.

You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall again. “It’s okay”, you whispered, though the ache in your chest told you otherwise. “I didn’t mean to drop it on you like that. I just didn’t know how else to say it”.

He nodded slowly, his hands still in his pockets, as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them. “I just…”. His voice faltered, and he let out a long, shaky breath. “I don’t know what to do with this. I wasn’t ready for this”.

“I know”, you said softly, taking a tentative step toward him. “Neither was I”.

He looked up at you then, his eyes meeting yours, and for the first time since the door had slammed, there was a softness there—an understanding. He didn’t look angry anymore, just lost, like he was trying to make sense of everything.

Jensen let out a slow breath, his body visibly relaxing as he stepped toward you, closing the distance between you. He reached out, his hand gently brushing against your arm, his touch tentative but comforting.

“I don’t know how to be okay with this”, he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. His hand, now resting lightly on your arm, trembled slightly. You could see the conflict swirling in his eyes—pain, confusion, and something deeper that tugged at your heart. He took a breath, and when he spoke again, his voice broke, exposing the vulnerability beneath his carefully controlled exterior. “I told you… I never wanted another baby”.

The words hung between you like a heavy cloud, and your chest tightened as you absorbed them, even though you had known this was how he felt.

“I know”, you whispered, the tears pooling in your eyes again, your voice shaking. “I know that, Jensen. That’s why I was so scared to tell you”.

He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, as if trying to process everything all over again. “It’s just… I’ve been through this already. I thought I was in a place where… where that was behind me. And now…”. He trailed off, his eyes searching yours, filled with uncertainty. “I don’t know if I can do this again”.

The honesty in his voice was like a punch to the gut, but it wasn’t unexpected. You had always known how he felt about this, and now you could see just how deeply rooted that fear was in him. He wasn’t just worried about the practicalities of having another baby—he was afraid of how it would change your lives, afraid of the unknown, afraid of losing the stability you had both worked so hard to build.

“I don’t want to force this on you”, you said softly, the tears finally spilling over as you looked down, unable to meet his eyes any longer. “I never wanted to hurt you with this. But I didn’t want to hide it from you, either”.

Jensen reached out then, his fingers lifting your chin gently, his touch warm against your skin. “You’re not forcing anything on me”, he said, his voice soft but firm. “I just… I need time. This is big. And it’s not just about me. It’s about us. About you. I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone in this”.

His words gave you a small sense of relief, but the fear still clung to you, heavy and suffocating. “What if you can’t do this?”, you whispered, the question slipping out before you could stop it. The fear of losing him, of this driving a wedge between you, was almost unbearable. “What if you don’t want me anymore?”.

Jensen’s face softened, and for the first time since he had stormed out of the room, you saw the love and care in his eyes. He cupped your face with both hands now, brushing away the tears from your cheeks with his thumb. “I’m not saying I don’t want you. I would never say this. I’m saying I don’t know how to wrap my head around this… yet”.

The vulnerability in his voice echoed your own, and for a moment, the raw honesty between you felt like a lifeline. You had both been thrown into something you hadn’t expected, something neither of you had planned for, but in this moment, it wasn’t about blame or anger.

“I’m scared too”, you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how we’re going to do this. But I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want this to drive us apart”.

Jensen’s expression softened further, and he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. He pressed his forehead to yours, closing his eyes as he held you tightly. “I don’t want to lose you either”, he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “We’ll figure this out. I just… I need time to get there. To wrap my head around it”.

You nodded, tears still streaming down your face, but for the first time since you’d told him, you felt a small flicker of hope.

“We’ll figure it out”, Jensen whispered again, his voice steady this time, as if he was convincing himself as much as he was you. “I love you. That hasn’t changed, and it won’t. Never”.

You let out a shaky breath, clinging to his words as you buried your face in his chest. The fear, the uncertainty—it was still there, but in this moment, wrapped in his arms, you knew that whatever happened next, you wouldn’t face it alone.

Jensen held you tighter, his arms wrapping around you as if he could shield you from everything in the world. He pressed his forehead to yours, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything, just breathed with you, letting the tension between you slowly dissolve. The weight of the past few hours still lingered in the air, but his touch, his closeness, was a balm to the raw emotions swirling inside you.

“I’m just glad you’re okay”, he whispered, his voice barely audible, as though he were afraid of breaking the fragile peace between you. “I’m so damn glad you’re safe”.

His words hit you in a way you didn’t expect. After everything—the fear, the storm, the confession you had been dreading—he wasn’t focused on the whirlwind of emotions that had just unfolded. Instead, his focus was on you, on the fact that you had made it through, that you were here, with him, despite the chaos that had threatened to tear everything apart.

The intensity of his relief was palpable, and you could feel the tension in his body ease slightly as he whispered those words, as if the realization that you were safe was finally sinking in for him. You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, which were still soft, full of concern and something deeper—something that cut through the uncertainty of the situation.

“I was so scared”, you whispered back, your voice shaking as fresh tears welled up in your eyes. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know if you’d—”.

He cut you off gently, brushing your cheek with his thumb, his touch steady and reassuring. “I’m here”, he said, his voice firmer now, though still laced with emotion. “I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to figure this out. I don’t have all the answers right now, but I know I don’t want to lose you. And I know I’m just… so relieved you’re okay. I couldn’t handle it if something had happened to you”.

His eyes searched yours, and you could see how deeply he meant every word. The vulnerability in his voice, the rawness of his emotions, made your heart ache in a different way now. You could see how the fear of almost losing you—not just physically, but also emotionally—had affected him. The weight of it all had pressed down on him in ways you hadn’t even realized.

Jensen's hand gently slid from your cheek down to your chin, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as he tilted your face up toward his. His touch was soft but deliberate, grounding you in the moment as the raw emotions between you seemed to quiet for just a second. Your heart pounded in your chest, but not out of fear this time—it was something else, something deeper.

His eyes searched yours for a brief moment, as if making sure you were okay with what was about to happen. And then, slowly, he leaned down, closing the small distance between you. His lips met yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache, the kiss soft, slow, full of all the unspoken emotions that had been swirling between you for what felt like forever.

The world outside seemed to fade away, the storm, the fear, the uncertainty, all of it dissolving as his lips moved against yours. It was a kiss that wasn’t rushed or desperate, but one that spoke of relief and connection—like he was trying to tell you with every brush of his lips that no matter how hard things got, he was still here, still with you.

You melted into him, your hands instinctively reaching up to rest against his chest as you kissed him back, the warmth of his body grounding you in the moment. Every fear, every doubt you’d carried over the past few weeks seemed to evaporate, replaced by the overwhelming sense of safety that came with being close to him.

When he finally pulled back, just slightly, he rested his forehead against yours again, both of you breathing heavily from the weight of the moment. His hand moved from your chin to the back of your neck, gently holding you in place, like he couldn’t bear to let go just yet.

“I’m not going anywhere”, Jensen whispered again, his voice rough with emotion. “No matter what happens, I’m right here with you. Always”.

Your chest tightened with emotion as you nodded, unable to find the words to say what you were feeling. Instead, you leaned into him again, pressing your lips to his, this time with a little more urgency, needing to feel the reassurance of his presence, needing to know that he really was there, that you weren’t alone in this.

Jensen kissed you back, his grip tightening slightly on the back of your neck as he pulled you even closer, his other arm wrapping around your waist. His kiss was deeper this time, more sure, more certain, and you could feel the shift in him, the way he was letting go of some of the fear and replacing it with the quiet determination to face whatever came next together.

When you finally pulled away again, you rested your head against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat comforting you in a way that nothing else could. He held you there for a long moment, his chin resting on top of your head as his arms wrapped securely around you, as if he was making sure you knew that he was still with you, still holding you close.

“We’re going to be okay”, Jensen whispered, his voice steady now, full of quiet conviction. “No matter what happens, we’re going to be okay”.

And as you stood there, wrapped in his arms, you believed him.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

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Talk talk (snippet) [Full fic coming 10/07/2024] [1/4]

jason todd x reader

summary: the sequence of events that led you and your neighbor, Jason Todd, to fall in love. For better of for worse.

a/n: I'm new to tumblr and I'm still getting the hang of this. English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Please, like and reblog if you are interested in reading the full fic, any comment is highly appreciated.

word count: 2k

Your grandmother had always been a superstitious woman, constantly talking about those omens lying everywhere, praying to be seen, both as a warning sign or as a blissful encounter. However, you have never been the one to pay attention to that, not caring about cats, stairs, corners, clover and everything in between, especially in a city like Gotham, where you don’t need an auspice to know that danger is close. 

For all of its sketchiness, Gotham City is a pretty straightforward place, there is always something happening, you may not see it, but it is there, an uneasiness that you can’t quite shake, hiding in a blind spot, a shadow in the corner of your eye. Still, in this precise moment, you wish that you had paid attention to something, omen or not, maybe the gray sky had been a good pointer that it was going to rain, maybe for once you could have listened to weather forecast, and maybe, just maybe, you should have just stayed at home after you saw that black cat licking one of its wounds on the fire escape. 

The point of all this is that it is raining, pouring, it’s one of those rainfalls that’s so loud and strong that it makes you think that the sky is being torn apart. Now you are on your knees, blue jeans now wet and grayish against the cold pavement, trying to retrieve your scattered groceries. 

It went like this: a few harmless droplets when you were cornering Monolith Square to take the bus after spending the evening seeing the Wayne Botanical Garden; on the bus, you were reading a book, something short and too pretentious for its own good, suddenly, the driver was using the windshield wiper and you noticed that the window view was then translucent, being barely able to make out the street silhouettes, it all became a blurry heap of buildings, street lamps and ill-defined legs, torsos and heads; then, you recognized the “C” Building, your stop, so you pressed the button, the bus slowed down and opened its door, outside a storm awaited. 

It’s a two hundred meter walk to your apartment, but what normally was easy, it turned into a midday odyssey, strong winds and warm water made the route unbearable, your tote bag felt heavier by every passing second and just when you were in front of your building, keys in hand, your bag tore by the seams, and all of its contents fell to the ground. 

It’s frustrating and you feel like screaming, it’s not the worst thing to ever happen to you, but it does feel like it is, probably because Gotham is some kind of cruel mistress, no matter how hard you try to play by its rules, it always ends up having a way to humble you, you might try to avoid trouble, but it ends up finding you, one way or another. You have this kind of overwhelming sentiment that makes your eyes sting when you see the damp sugar on the floor, just next to the trinkets you got from the Wayne Botanical Garden and your favorite brand of cookies. 

The rain seems to feel your distress and it starts pouring even more. Great. 

“Need help?” a voice asks. 

You have never been a very religious person, but when you hear those words dripped in that thick gothamite accent that sometimes makes your stomach churn, you think that perhaps there is something out there that has decided to glance your way for once, and that for once, it felt pity for you. 

“Yes.” you say. 

You look up and see a tall man, gruff, huge. He has dry blood on his upper lip, a thin scab, dark maroon, recent but not too fresh. His hair is black, tousled, with a white streak on the front, and it seems a little bit damp, locks sticking to his forehead. His skin seems thick, probably because it is littered with scars, white dents on his skin, some big and some small, you don’t think too much about it, it’s Gotham, everyone has some scars around here, from gunshots to safety accidents on the swings of Robinson Park. His eyes are blue, almost icy, and his pupil is enveloped by vibrant green hues, his gaze seems curious and fixated, he is analyzing you, the same way you are analyzing him, ‘fair’ you think. He wears a worn out hoodie, overused, with grease spots and frayed holes, he is wearing also a pair of black shorts, the ones you use for running or going to the gym, and he’s also using trainers, the label says Numa instead of Puma, they are probably from the street markets that you can find around in every corner of Gotham. 

He is alluring, you concede, even handsome. But that doesn’t matter, because he is kind. Gotham is isolating, people keep to themselves, they look the other way, not because they are necessarily assholes, but because they have clear boundaries, they distinguish your business from their business, and unless those two spheres intersect, they don’t see a reason to cross the line, it’s easier that way. Therefore, unapologetic kindness is not something easy to come across; in fact, you would be wary of it, if it wasn’t for the fact that he has a plastic bag and is taking your milk carton from the ground. Thank you, that’s what your eyes say. 

For Jason it goes like this. 

He is in his apartment, for the first time in days. It’s Wednesday and on Saturday he had a complicated patrol with Nightwing, the kind of complicated that leaves your face scarlet and body mauve, the type of convoluted patrol that leaves you aching for days, movements limited and a sore spot under your sixth rib. 

He was kept in the Manor until yesterday evening, not because he wanted to, but because he was forced to. I can take care of myself he grumbled, but then Afred got this look in his eyes, not the one that says I am disappointed, he doesn’t care about that, he is used to disappointing, to failed expectations and lists of unspoken requirements he will never meet, it’s fine, what’s not fine is the other look, the one that softly whispers You are breaking my heart, master Jason, and Jason doesn’t want to do that, not to Alfred, who seems the only one ready to accept him for what he is now and not clinging to an old memory of what could have been. So, he stayed, receiving medical care from Leslie and Alfred, but he left as soon as he could. 

Alfred had asked if he was staying for dinner, even though at this point it’s more of a silent plea, some sort of want for him to stay for once, to really be part of the family, to act like one, but Jason never agrees. The thing is, Jason never stays, he flees, he doesn’t do goodbyes or excuses, he is not a Wayne, perhaps he was at some point, when he was loud and excitable, full of wonder, but that part of him died, and no magic or god can bring that back, some things stay dead and maybe it’s better off that way. 

The point is that he was finally back at his apartment. The closest thing he had to a proper home. It was small, he could afford bigger, he had bigger, but it began being just a plain safehouse, some impersonal storage unit to keep ammo, League weapons, gear, etc. However, at some point, he started spending nights there, probably because it was in a nice part of Gotham, Midtown, without the constant chaos from Uptown, where he mostly operated, but still far away from the haughtiness ever so characteristic of Downtown Gotham. It was a perfect balance, not too much, not too little, and Jason likes evenness, equilibrium, perhaps because most days he tethers the line between sanity and insanity so he appreciates any resemblance of stability he can grasp onto. 

He arrived yesterday at 20:30, ordered delivery from the mexican restaurant a few blocks away, and fell asleep watching reruns from an old, mildly successful tv show. He likes the background noise, when everything is too quiet, he starts imagining things: footsteps, the sound of a crowbar against his flat’s parquet, screams and wails, the sound of a ticking bomb, etc. He likes everything that makes his subconscious believe that he is not alone. 

His morning wasn’t different from any other mornings and that was fine. Jason enjoys routines, the predictable. He enjoys his usual morning channel; the black cat that visits him every morning to silently ask for food; the cadence of his neighbors footsteps as they run around their flat trying to get the kids ready for school and Roy’s texts. There is no sign that today is going to be different, and he likes that. He hits the gym, as always. He prepares lunch, nothing fancy. He reads, today it is The Master and Margarita, he is one hundred pages in, he marks words, phrases, writes thoughts on the margins and slowly makes his way through. He journals, he is not much of a poet, not that he wants to; he might be tortured, but he is not an artist, words more times than not get stuck on his throat, scratching like barbed wire against his larynx, drawing blood; however, Dinah, also known as Black Canary, who acts as his psychologist via Roy, advised him to write, she told him that it could help, sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn’t, he keeps doing it anyway. 

When the clock marks 17:23, he gets bored, so he goes to his balcony. It’s sad, but he lives his days anticipating the nights; he likes patrolling, he savors the adrenaline, he basks on the rush, he thrives under the light of traffic and streetlights; daylight stuns him, he doesn’t really know how to navigate the world once the sun has risen, it’s disorientating. Therefore, he just rots, he decays around his apartment, and now he feels like festering on his balcony. Suddenly, it starts to rain. It begins as a drizzle, so he doesn’t really care, he takes a cigarette, he lights it up and takes a puff. 

He started to smoke when he came back to life, his dad used to do it, his mom too, everyone in Crime Alley did it, since it helped you to stay warm. When he was younger, he didn’t like it, back then when he was the bright-eyed Robin and he treated his body like a temple because Batman told him to do so, back when the only thing he wanted was to prove himself worthy, something he never was. His body as Robin was a temple; his body as the Red Hood are the ruins of a long forgotten empire that lived its own demise, and no one cares about ruins, why should he? 

His first cigarette was given to him by Egon, one of the first mercenaries who trained him after his resurrection; then, the habit sticked, after all the life he chose, the life he lives, happens on dimly lit bars and dingy hideouts where a thick layer of smoke covers everything, it’s only normal that he smokes. Furthermore, he admits, there is some kind of masochist element to it, at first, the smell of smoke was enough to send him to a panic attack, since it reminded him of bombs, collapsed buildings, screeching manic laughs and charred skin; smoke was what filled his lungs when he gave his last breath, so if he was able to control the panic that the smell evoked, that meant that he won, in some way, in any form, it may be a consolation prize, but a prize nevertheless. 

So he smokes and the rain starts falling with more force, but he doesn’t bother going inside, he likes the feeling of the droplets against his skin, it’s nice, it feels real. He looks down and he sees you, hunched over picking things from the floor and, after a few heartbeats laced with smoke, he decided to go down and help. 

He sees you up close, eyes fixed in your face, taking in every detail, engraving them on his memory as he does with everyone. Right now, the world doesn’t tilt on his axis, there are no sweaty palms or rushed breaths, nothing has stopped, it doesn’t feel like something monumental, but it is. 

He helps you and accompanies you to your apartment, it’s on the second floor - his is on the fourth - and he feels content about knowing someone new after Roy has been nagging him about needing to be friendlier and meet other people. He doesn’t talk much, he never does, he tells you his name and his apartment number, it’s enough for such a small talk. You thank him and it feels nice. He leaves and you close the door, it’s enough for today. 

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[mbsneur]

You‘re still the best

Cata Coll x Reader

Summary: cata lost against brazil

Warnings: angst

My Masterlist

please read this text before going to the story don't be so strict with me but rather write to me what I can do better or what you wished were different. also tell me if you find the story too long or too short.. Also write to me if you liked it. My requests are always open (and English is not my first language so don't be mad at me) and if you have any ideas for the future about who I should write please tell me… the topics I will choose by myself unless you have a request for one or two people I will Read everything.. in the next survey I will take a few ideas from the old survey and new ones…. now read and I hope you like it <33

(its a very short one)

your girlfriend missed out on the fight for the gold medal because of her mistakes

your heart stops you can't bear to see your girlfriend like this she runs off the field crying and takes all the blame for it

her little heart breaks into a thousand pieces it was her greatest wish to win this gold medal

a ball through her legs

a penalty because of her

an own goal

almost a fight

she didn't want to talk to anyone from her team her pained eyes you see in the stands and her tear-filled eyes meet yours

she looks at you and her look tells you that she is sorry she would apologise to you for everything although she has no compulsion to do so it will take her a huge effort to come into your presence

she runs into the changing rooms and can't bear to look at you again

you go down to the railing and wave laia over to you she also cries and comes over to you in displeasure

"can you please just give cata a big hug and tell her i'll wait outside the hotel please" you say and feel all your blood rush to your head and your eyes glaze over

"of course" tears roll down her cheeks and she tries to give you a little smile

none of the girls will shower there now they will all go to their nearby hotel to be by themselves and shower alone to rinse off all the pain

you take your bag and run to the exit to intercept cata as quickly as possible the way out was a torture everywhere people pushing each other and spanish people arguing with brazillians and a lot off drunk people

you've been waiting for her outside for a long time you stand around fidgeting and see the first spanish women coming out some of them hug you or give you a nice smile

until you see your friend she is still crying she comes running towards you and you try to take her in your arms by touching her shoulder but she pulls away from you

"let's go i have to take a shower" she says, wiping a few tears from her face

she runs ahead and you run tenaciously behind her she must be so hurt that she doesn't even want to give you a hug

you haven't exchanged a word all the way her body looks weak she opens the door to the room and pulls her jersey over her head and throws it in the corner her shoes find their place there too

cata's broken injured body is now on full display for you you slide up to her and place your hands gently on her shoulder blades and give her little kisses on the edges of her sports bras she relaxes into the kiss until she shrugs her shoulders and pushes you away from her

she turns around abruptly your body jerks and startles "can you just stop touching me" she says angrily and almost screaming you cross your arms embarrassed and take a step back she looks at you painfully and without saying anything else she disappears into the bathroom and locks the door behind her

slowly your tears are coming out that have been stuck inside you all evening cata has never been like this to you she has always met you with love

you crawl into bed and your feelings take over your thoughts go crazy and you hear your girlfriend swearing in the bathroom

//

an hour has passed and you mumble to yourself quietly the door of the bathroom opens and cata comes back in an oversized t-shirt and her boxers she is still crying " lo- lo siento amor" she says and tears stream down her cheeks

you sit up slightly and pull the blanket off your legs and nod to her your cheeks are blood red and burning from all your tears cata comes closer and her whole body lies firmly on top of you

you gently stroke her hairline and press her head firmly against your neck "it's okay i understand your pain it's okay" you tell her tearfully and her hands squeeze your body tighter

"i shouldn't have treated you like that i didn't appreciate you you're the only one who can take away my pain " she says and sobs

"it will get better you know how much I love you and that I will never let you fall" you say understandingly

"Will you promise me?" she asks, looking at you slightly

you have never seen cata so vulnerable she was always the strong one of the two of you "i promise you i will fix you and stay your home forever"

cata kisses your neckline lightly "you're still the best" you say with a slight grin

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗜𝗡

　　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Y/N is caught between the past and the present, struggling to overcome her love for Chris while trying to move on with Alex, a kind and understanding man. When Chris reappears in her life, Y/N is forced to confront her feelings and make difficult decisions.

WARNING: Crying, angst/comfort with a happy ending.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by @ecliphttlunar and @sturniolohisteric

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Ever since she was a teenager, Y/N had always wondered what death would feel like. Those who have experienced it are not here to tell stories of it. Would it be painful? Would she feel it squeeze her heart with its dark touch, or would she sigh for the last time in her sleep, letting the darkness take her without noticing the transition?

But now, for her, death was not the last breath escaping her lungs, nor the melodic sound of machines beside her body in a hospital room. It was something that drowned her from the inside out.

His style is infused throughout her closet, his smile carved into the Polaroids she's kept as memories for years. She could still hear his voice, everywhere, in the people passing by on the street, the same Boston accent fresh in her mind.

Dying was not a singular event but a collection of small moments, of broken promises and shattered hopes.

Y/N wondered if she would ever be able to erase those memories, or if his shadow would always be there, an inescapable presence around every corner, in every look.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The city skyline, jagged and imposing, reflected in the windows of the triplets' Los Angeles home. The rooms were simple, modern and decorated perfectly to suit their personalities, but they seemed cold and impersonal at that moment, devoid of the warmth that once marked their lives with Y/N, but especially that of one person, Chris. It had been six months since they broke up, but Y/N's absence permeated the air, a ghost haunting every corner.

Chris was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at the framed photograph on the nightstand. It was an old picture of him and Y/N, taken during a trip to the coast where they were celebrating their two years together. Their smiles were wide and genuine, their arms wrapped in a tight hug. The sea breeze had tousled her hair, and her eyes shone with unspoken promises. Now, it seemed like a lifetime ago, a different era when happiness seemed to last forever.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. Emma, ​​his current girlfriend - or not anymore -, had left a few hours ago after a tense homemade dinner. They had been together for a few months now, but the connection felt forced, artificial. He tried to be present, to participate, but his mind always went back to Y/N. The laughter at the simplest jokes, the comfort of touch, the silent understanding that flowed between them effortlessly. With Y/N, he felt complete, understood, at home.

Meanwhile, across town, Y/N stood on the balcony of her new apartment, the city lights casting a soft glow on her face. She had also started seeing someone, Alex, a kind and patient soul who seemed to genuinely care. But try as he might, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

Alex was wonderful, but he wasn't Chris.

The memories of her time with Chris were a constant, painful reminder of what she had lost.

Y/N crossed her arms around herself, trying to ward off the cold that didn't just come from the cool night air. She remembered the nights spent in Chris's arms, the way he held her close, her back pressed firmly against his chest covered in Fresh Love's hoodies, his heartbeat sounding like a comforting beat against her ear. Those nights were full of whispered confessions and shared dreams, a sanctuary of intimacy that now seemed so far away.

Y/N wandered into the living room, unable to bear the sight of the painful memories any longer, it was comical how she could almost hear his loud laughter and whispered promises of love against her ears.

The girl poured herself a drink, hoping it would ease the pain, but she knew better. Alcohol might provide a temporary distraction, but it would never fill the void Chris had left.

She wondered if he thought about her, if he missed her as much as she missed him.

As the night grew darker, both Chris and Y/N found themselves reaching for the phone, the desire to hear the other's voice almost unbearable. But they stopped themselves, knowing it wouldn't change anything.

They really tried to move on and build new lives apart, but their hearts still belonged to each other. It was a cruel irony, to be so close and yet so far away, to love so deeply and yet be unable to be together.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The next day, Chris met Emma for lunch after fighting hard against Nick and Matt's complaints. He had to apologize and put an end on it.

She talked excitedly about her day, her eyes shining with excitement. Chris was smiling and nodding, but his thoughts were miles away. He wondered what Y/N was doing, if she was having lunch at her favorite Italian restaurant at that moment, if she was accompanied or alone, if maybe she found someone who made her feel complete again.

He felt a pang of guilt, knowing that Emma deserved someone who could give her all her attention, someone who wasn't haunted by the past.

It was not necessary to note that Emma soon noticed, again, his mental absence. A fervent discussion installed itself between both bodies, where Chris just nodded, knowing that he was on the wrong end, keeping his eyes down.

The boy left the restaurant without a girlfriend.

Meanwhile, Y/N was in a coffee shop with Alex, who was explaining a new project at work. She tried to focus, to be present, but her mind kept going back to Chris. She remembered how Chris listened intently to her, his eyes never leaving hers, making her feel like she was the only living person in the world.

With Alex, it was different. He was kind and caring, but there was no spark. There was no magic.

She felt suffocated.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Days turned into weeks, and both Chris and Y/N continued their charade, pretending that they were fine, that they had moved on. But in the quiet moments, when they were alone with their thoughts, the truth was inescapable. They were still in love, still yearning for each other, still incomplete. Their new lifes seemed like shadows, pale imitations of what they had shared.

One night, Chris was sitting by the huge window in the living room, looking out onto the sparsely populated street, feeling the emptiness in his heart almost suffocating him.

The boy fished his phone out of the front pocket of his hoodie, his finger hovering over Y/N's name. Should he call? Would it make any difference? He hesitated, torn between his desire and his fear of rejection.

Across the city, Y/N was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Alex had kissed her goodnight and quickly fallen asleep, but Y/N was wide awake. Her eyes, which roamed the darkness of the room tirelessly, found her cell on the bedside table, thinking for long seconds before picking it up, her heart pounding.

Her fingers scrolled through old messages from Chris, the words a bittersweet reminder of their love. She wanted to send a text, to say something, anything, to bridge the gap that had grown between them. But doubt gnawed at her.

What if Chris had moved on? What if her text only opened old wounds?

At that moment, as if guided by some invisible force, both Chris and Y/N decided to connect.

Chris took a deep breath and dialed Y/N's number, his heart racing with each ring. At the same time, Y/N typed a short, halting text: "I miss you."

The phone rang twice before Y/N's screen lit up with Chris' name. Her breath caught in her throat as she processed what she was seeing before sliding her thumb over the green button.

"Chris?"

"Y/N." He said softly, relief filling his voice.

Y/N's eyes filled with tears upon hearing the voice that her ears had begged to hear again. Her eyes darted briefly towards Alex before she slowly got up from her own bed, walking out of the room stealthily, towards the balcony.

"I was about to text you." The girl's voice came out in a timid whisper, her free hand curling into a fist of anxiety. "I miss you, Chris."

"I miss you too. Every day, every moment. Being without you… feels wrong." Chris let out a shaky laugh, a mixture of joy and pain.

They fell silent, the weight of their words hanging in the air. It was a painful truth they had been avoiding, but now it was exposed.

"Chris, do you think we made a mistake?" Y/N asked after long minutes of listening to his breathing on the other side, her voice shaking.

"I think about it every day." He admitted. "We thought we were doing the right thing, giving each other space, but all I felt was emptiness. Nothing and no one compares to you, Y/N."

"Oh, Chris." Tears streamed down Y/N's face, her teeth gripping her bottom lip in a death grip in an attempt to hold back the sobs.

"Can I see you?"

"Now? Chris, I... Alex is with me." Y/N shook her head, even though she knew he couldn't see her, sniffling as her fingers pressed her eyes lightly, trying to ease the tears.

"Right, Alex..."

Chris was silent for a moment, processing the situation. His mind was in turmoil, but the need to see her, to be with her, was overwhelming. He knew he couldn't wait any longer, that every moment away from her was torment.

"I understand." He said finally, clearing his throat awkwardly, trying to keep his voice steady. "But... Can we talk in person tomorrow? I really need to talk to you."

Y/N nodded. She knew they had to. Ignoring her feelings wouldn't get them anywhere. It would only hurt them more.

"I know. Can we meet tomorrow? Maybe at our place?"

Our place. The little cafe where they spent so many mornings together, laughing and planning the future. Chris's heart skipped a beat when he heard those words.

"Yes, of course. Tomorrow at ten?"

"It's a date." Y/N replied softly, feeling a mix of anxiety and hope.

After hanging up the call, Y/N remained sitting on the balcony, her mind rushing. Chris's words echoed in her head, and she knew she had to make a difficult decision. She looked inside the apartment, where Alex was sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the internal conflict she was facing.

After a few minutes, the girl took a deep breath and returned to her room. She sat in the corner armchair, hugging her knees and watching her casual date sleep. He seemed so calm, so serene, which made her feel a weight in her heart, the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him, but she knew she was already doing it just by being with him.

The hours passed slowly. Y/N couldn't sleep, anxiety gnawing at her insides as her fingers moved against each other frantically. Her thoughts were a tangle of memories, doubts, and hopes. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Chris's face, felt his touch, and heard his voice. And that made her more awake than ever.

Around seven in the morning, Alex started to move. He turned over in bed, ready to get up, looking for Y/N next to himself. When he didn't find her body, he opened his eyes slowly, blinking to adjust to the low light in the room, a consequence of the sun that invaded through the cracks in the white aluminum windows. His eyes quickly found the girl's silhouette in the armchair, and his confused expression turned to concern.

"Y/N?" He called softly, voice hoarse with sleep. "What are you doing there? How long have you been awake?"

"Alex, hey... I lost sleep." The girl met his eyes quickly, sadness and determination reflected in her eyes.

"Is everything okay?" Alex frowned, his orbs studying Y/N's facial expressions, noticing her discomfort.

"Alex, we need to talk."

"What happened? You look worried." He sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to find the right words, her eyes lowering to her fingers, which were clenching her palms in anxiety.

"I... need to be honest with you. Something happened tonight that made me realize a few things."

"What was it? You can tell me." Alex tilted his head, concern rising.

She slowly got up from the armchair and walked to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress, next to him. Her right hand worked to find Alex's hand, feeling the warmth and gentleness in it, and that only made everything more difficult.

"Chris called me."

"Chris? Your ex-boyfriend?" Alex frowned slightly.

Y/N nodded, her tongue moistening her lips quickly, preparing to begin.

"Yes. We talked, and... I realized that I still have very strong feelings for him. I tried to move on, I tried to build something with you, but it's not fair. It's not fair to you, and it's not fair to me." She pressed her lips into a thin line, feeling Alex's fingers squeeze hers.

Alex was silent for a moment, processing her words. Finally, he sighed and looked down at his clasped hands.

"You still love him, don't you?"

"Yes, Alex. And it's not because you're not wonderful. You are amazing. But my heart… my heart, is still with Chris." Her voice broke slightly as her eyes filled with tears, her heart clenching in fear and guilt. "I'm sorry for holding you back for so long." A lone tear escaped, running down her cheek slowly.

"I appreciate your honesty, Y/N... I knew, you know? In a way, I felt like there was something you were holding back. Something that was keeping you from being completely with me." He squeezed her hand gently, his eyes full of understanding.

"Aren't you mad?" She raised her eyes to him, widening them in surprise at his response, sniffling as her free hand reached up to her own face, wiping away the single cold tear.

Alex shook his head slowly.

"No, I'm not. I'm sad, of course. I really like you, and I thought we could build something together, I had a million expectations. But I understand that you can't control your heart. And you were honest with me, and that's more than what a lot of people would do. I can't force you to stay with me."

Y/N let out a shaky breath, relieved by his understanding, feeling her heart lighter.

"I didn't want to hurt you, Alex. You deserve someone who can love you completely, without reservation. And I... need to work this out with Chris. See if there's still a chance for us."

"I hope you find what you're looking for, Y/N. And if things don't work out with Chris, I hope you find someone who makes you happy. You deserve it." Alex smiled sadly, but with genuine kindness.

She squeezed his hand one last time, feeling a rush of gratitude.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N's head was a mess as she carefully dressed, choosing an outfit she knew Chris liked. As she looked in the mirror, trying to tame her hair, she remembered the lazy mornings when he would do this for her, a playful smile on his lips.

Chris was also anxious. He tried to hide his nervousness from Nick and Matt, but his brothers - who knew him more than he knew himself - noticed.

"You're going to see her, aren't you?" Matt asked, a knowing smile on his face as he spread peanut butter on his rice cracker, watching him from his seat at the dinner table.

Chris just nodded, taking big, quick gulps of his Pepsi.

"I have to do this. I need to know."

"Good luck." Nick muttered, patting him on the shoulder as he walked past him, sitting in the chair opposite Matt's. "We're rooting for you."

The cafe was almost empty when Y/N arrived. The girl chose a table at the back, where they usually sat and waited, feeling her heart beating wildly. Her eyes traveled frantically from the door to the window and back again, watching the passersby, trying to calm her nerves as she cracked her knuckles.

Chris arrived a few minutes later, still as handsome as she remembered. The boy stopped in front of the glass door of the establishment momentarily, his eyes sweeping the place, accompanied by his brow furrowed in confusion and anxiety, quickly meeting hers.

It was as if an instantaneous and joint spark ran through their bodies, both of them feeling a wave of emotions that almost knocked them over.

Chris took a deep breath, starting his steps towards her, sitting down with a shy smile in the free chair in front of her.

"Hey." Chris whispered, his voice soft, full of contained feelings, and only at that moment did Y/N understand how much she missed hearing the boy's voice in person.

"Hey." Y/N, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, an embarrassed nasal laugh escaping before she clears her throat, blinking rapidly.

The silence between them was not uncomfortable but full of unsaid things and pure feelings.

Finally, Y/N broke the ice.

"I... haven't stopped thinking about you, Chris. Ever since we split up, everything feels so empty."

Chris nodded, leaning his upper body on the base of the table and taking Y/N's hands - which were still tangled up in an act of nervousness -, interlacing their fingers gently.

"Me too. Nothing and no one could fill the void you left. I tried to move on, I really did, but it's impossible. You're the person I love, and it took me so long to notice that. It cost me almost losing you completely."

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. They both knew it wouldn't be easy, that there would be many things to resolve, but at that moment, all that mattered was that they still loved each other.

"I don't know what it's going to be like." Y/N resumed, her voice shaking as her eyes traveled from blue eyes to pink lips. "But I know I want to try, Chris. I want to rebuild what we lost. I can't let you go. Not again."

"I also want that." He responded quickly, his voice increasing in volume significantly, squeezing her hand tighter. "I know we made mistakes, but I want to fix them. I want you in my life, Y/N. I can't live without you. I don't want to."

The relief and joy that flooded Y/N's features were undeniable. For the first time in months, she felt like there was hope that they could find a way back to each other.

They spent hours talking, remembering the good times and acknowledging the mistakes of the past. They decided that they wouldn't rush things, that they would take it all one step at a time, but most importantly, they would be on this journey together.

When they left the cafe, hand in hand, they both felt that a new chapter was actually beginning. Maybe there were still obstacles to overcome, but they knew that as long as they had each other, they could face all of it. Their love, despite all the challenges, was strong and truthful, and that was all they needed to start over.

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[katakaluptastrophy]

"I’ve already pretty much revealed that Alecto begins with the descent of Christ into Hades." - Tamsyn Muir

That's right...it's time for more Bible study for fans of weird queer necromancers!

It's currently Holy Week, the week where Western liturgical Christians reenact the events of Jesus' death and resurrection in real time. And today, it's Holy Saturday. So Jesus died on the cross on Good Friday. He rises from the dead on Easter Sunday. But what happened in between? His body lay in the tomb...but his spirit was otherwise preoccupied. Because on Holy Saturday, Jesus went to Hell.

But why would Jesus go to Hell? Because the resurrection was not just about saving the people who came after it - it was a bit more...wibbly wobbly, timey wimey.

To be a bit more specific, he didn't visit Hell Hell. The place Jesus visited isn't Hell in the sense of eternal punishment of the damned, but Hades or Sheol or the Underworld or Limbo - a place for those who were mostly good but lived before Jesus' resurrection had made salvation possible. So before his resurrection, Jesus went to make that salvation retroactive. Particularly, according to tradition, to major figures from the Old Testament, including Adam and Eve.

So Nona the Ninth ended with Harrow walking off into the River in search of theological truth. And Alecto the Ninth apparently begins with Harrow in Hell:

Alecto the Ninth, ACT ONE HARROW IN HELL CHAPTER 1 At a point in the slit she was carving through life, Harrowhark Nonagesimus woke to find herself lost in a dark wound. She had been walking when it had all gone black– any path ahead or behind was blotted out; now she was here.  - Tamsyn Muir reading at TorCon

This is riffing heavily on the beginning of Dante's Inferno:

"In the middle of the journey of our life I came to myself within a dark wood where the straight way was lost." - Dante Alighieri, Inferno

But lots of people go to Hell. What's so special about Harrow going there? Because the traditional name in English for Jesus' chthonic salvation adventures on Holy Saturday is "the Harrowing of Hell." "Harrow" comes from an Old English word meaning to attack or despoil - a very martial way of expressing the idea of Jesus as the victor over sin and death.

Harrow ended NTN realising that she cannot trust John's account of metaphysics. That she needs to discover the reality for herself. The faith of the Nine Houses and John's own styling as god rests on the foundation of the Resurrection - John is the "ransomer of death, scourge of death, vindicator of death", his power is understood to be absolute: "Let the whole of everywhere entrust themselves to him. Let those across the river pledge beyond the tomb to the adept divine."

And yet even that prayer - "let those across the river..." - introduces doubt. Magnus jumps in to silence Abigail when she expresses her heretical belief in the River beyond, and Harrow herself scoffs that "it has been thousands of years since anybody bothered to believe in the River beyond." Abigail believes that John knows nothing about what exists beyond the River. And what about Hell? In HTN, Ulysses the First is described as "languishing in Hell" after his run-in with a Resurrection Beast. John himself describes the stoma as "the mouth to Hell", "a portal to a place I cannot touch - somewhere I don't fully comprehend, where my power and my authority are utterly meaningless."

In the Book of Revelation - the Bible's account of the end of the world - Jesus holds "the keys of death and Hell". John may have resurrected the dead, but he does not comprehend what is beyond it. Both the destination of the good, the River beyond to which the souls of little Isaac and Jean should have traveled lightly after their short and brutal lives, and the Hell that lies beneath the stoma are outside of his power. He is a few keys short of the full divine bunch. He can manipulate death, but he is not really its master.

And so Harrow walks off into the River to look for something or someone she can call god. Harrow, who shares a name with the defeat of death across time and space. Harrow, who is of the unbroken line of Anastasia. Anastasia was kind to Alecto, who like Eve is the mother of all and like Adam walked on the empty earth with god.

In Orthodox icons, the Harrowing of Hell is depicted with Jesus triumphant, leading Adam and Eve by the hand from their tombs. The traditional term for this image is an anastasis, the Greek term for resurrection. Adam and Eve, whose sin broke the intended shape of reality, are restored to wholeness with god.

How will Harrow answer her questions about god? What really is beyond the stoma and what would it mean to conquer it? What does it look like, metaphysically, to restore the world of The Locked Tomb to wholeness, and what will it cost?

[yurimother]

'I'm in Love with the Villainess' Anime - Episode 1 Review

An astounding and hilarious first outing for the series with the power to revolutionize Yuri

We are finally here, the long-awaited and much anticipated first episode of Platinum Vision’s I’m in Love with the Villainess anime aired on Tokyo MX and is streaming everywhere outside of Asia with a plethora of dubbing options, including English, on day one on Crunchyroll.

The first outing covers most of the events of the light novel’s first chapter, or the first three chapters of the manga, at a rapid but steady and not overwhelming pace. At this rate, the anime should be able to cover much of the series’ first arc, or the first two out of five books, in a single cour. Perhaps a bit less, depending on which of the story’s various adventures it elects to include. This is an exciting possibility, to be sure, as the story is a character-driven, socially mindful, and expertly written and, despite its fantasy setting, an exceptionally relevant tale of romance, socio-economic inequality, and of course, queerness.

While the first arc of Villainess is a triumph, it would be a shame not to see at least some of the developments from the extra chapters that lead into the second story, like (spoilers for the end of volume 2) Rae and Claire’s wedding and their adopted twin daughters May and Aleah. If we are lucky, perhaps they will appear in the final episode or, dare to dream, a second season (end of spoilers).

Now, onto the show itself. For those who, for whatever reason, have not read Inori’s masterpiece, I’m in Love with the Villainess follows Rae Taylor. A salary worker who dies and is reincarnated as the protagonist of her favorite otome game, Revolution. However, Rae has no interest in any of the game world’s three eligible royal bachelors and has eyes only for the game villainess Claire François. Armed with exceptionally magical ability, Rae sets out determined to secure a happy ending for her beloved Claire against the coming revolution and perhaps win her heart in the process.

Now, the opening of I’m in Love with the Villainess is the series' weakest moment in all mediums, which, considering episode one’s outstanding quality, only highlights just how superb the Yuri masterpiece is as a whole. Even with its need to establish the setting, characters, and premise of the series, the premiere managed to be an excellent introduction and set the bar high with lots of laughs, entertainment, and service between our two leads.

I watched the Japanese audio, and Yu Serizawa and Karin Nanami are fantastic in these roles, with Serizawa playing up Rae’s teasing adoration and borderline masochism at full blast, and Nanami explicitly giving voice to Claire’s arrogance and frustration. She even manages to deliver a perfect Ojou-style laugh to seal the character’s elite status and lean into the show’s use of otome tropes. And having the leads sing the excellent opening and ending themes is just icing on the cake.

Speaking of tropes, while Ironi’s original work is a genre-defying masterpiece that broke the Yuri mold, it is never afraid to play with the genre’s iconography and its otome game setting. Every other scene had another allusion, including to the book’s cover. As always, I am likely overeager to see connections, however intentional they may be, but the academy’s halls harken to otome staples, the bells and strings of the first scene's soundtrack conjured blistering memories of Strawberry Panic (perhaps a sacrilegious comparison to make but I digress), and even an areal shot of the campus was another check mark on my “Scenic Yuri” theory.

Now, as mentioned, I’m in Love with the Villainess has to establish the groundwork here, and narratively, these are the weakest moments, often direct exposition, with a few exceptions like Rae’s conversation with her roommate Mash about maintaining Claire’s attention. The narration is at least accompanied by relevant and creative, if perhaps limited, animation. But to their credit, these moments are succinct, existing only as long as they have to in order to provide the necessary information and get out of the way for what matters most: the characters.

Rae and Claire are front and center from the very get-go, and there is little time wasted in showcasing Rae’s intense bottom energy or establishing Claire’s elitism and bewildered anger towards Rae’s excitement in the face of Claire’s carefully calculated cruelty. It is a montage of silly and fun competitions between the two that had me laughing and smiling all the way through, as the Yuri was present in full force, and gives glimpses at the mutual obsession the women have for each other that will soon blossom into a wonderful romance.

These early story beats have a light tone and focus on the bullying, teasing, and rivalry between Rae and Claire, a dynamic that previously and understandably made a subset of readers somewhat uncomfortable. However, assuming the anime unfolds in a similar manner to the manga and light novels, the narrative will explore meatier, heavier subject matter and a far deeper lesbian romance, all without losing its sense of fun and adventure. The next episode or two will be incredibly telling - as the source material is perhaps the most profound and forthright depictions of LGBTQ identity in Yuri, and that all starts with a pivotal conversation that, if it is included, will be coming up shortly.

Overall, I am incredibly excited for this series. The first episode is everything I had hoped for out of an adaptation of one of my favorite works of all time, save the animation, which is average at best. While there is a lot more to see, and we will have to wait to know if I’m in Love with the Villainess lives up to its incredible potential and source material, I am extremely hopeful. We have one of the funniest, most thoughtful, and queerest works of Yuri transformed into a stunning anime project unlike anything that has come before and offers the chance at not just a new Yuri “gateway” but to continue the work of its source material in revolutionizing the genre.

Ratings: Story – 8 Characters – 10 Art – 5 LGBTQ – We shall see… Sexual Content – 3 Final – 8

I'm in Love with the Villainess is streaming on Crunchyroll with English sub/dub.

Review made possible by Avery Riehl and the rest of the YuriMother Patrons. Support YuriMother on Patreon for early access, exclusive article, and more: patreon.com/yurimother

[aheathen-conceivably]

Long before the last note Antoine had grown aware of Zelda’s presence; but as he finished, he looked up at her with a newfound vulnerability in his eyes. As she stared at him unmoving, he absentmindedly moved his hand along the strings to fill the quiet left by the watching stars, “Was it alright, you think? Writing lyrics, it’s new. Harder than assembling notes, if you ask me.”

She looked at him in amazed silence. His original piano pieces had been brilliant, and sometimes he had written ditties for her to sing, but never before had she heard him sing his own lyrics. She had always known how much he loved it - this place that he had left but that walked alongside him everywhere he went; but it was so much clearer this way, so full of both love and hate, loyalty and disdain, longing and relief, that it was difficult for anything other than music to encompass it. 

She brought her hands together in something that may have been a clap if she wasn’t so afraid to disrupt the stillness of the desert air. On silent footsteps, she left her reverie behind and moved to sit where he had made room for her on the worn wooden bench.

She looked at him earnestly, trying to ease his fear with even just the movement of her eyes, “It’s brilliant, Antoine, truly.” And she meant it, not just because she was under his spell and not her own now; the judgmental eyes of God and her sisters were shut out when she was in his orbit. Now there was only him and his memories for her to get lost in. 

He left his hands on the strings, still playing the familiar notes as though they helped make the admittance easier to utter, “You were right, you know? When I play it’s like I can see it all laid out in front of me. Or better yet, under me. Like I’m above it, observing it all like a story. Makes me realize I loved it more than I thought I did. That house. That place. Her. I wrote it because I know it’s gone now, probably nothing but rubble under a cheap government build. I just don’t want to forget. Or maybe I don’t want the world to forget.”

The stars looked down on them as his smile widened with every inch she drew closer to him. They reflected brightly in her eyes as she leveled them to his, “Would you sing it again? So I can hear it better?”

He let out a small laugh, just as much in relief as in humor. “Surely you would prefer to sing it? With a voice like yours I would hate to imagine what mine must sound like.”

She brought her knee up on the bench with them, curling as close as she could without dislodging the guitar from his arms. “Hush and sing. You don’t need me now.”

“I always will, Mrs. Duplanchier. No matter what. But as you wish….” 🎶

Part 3/3

(As Antoine is meant to have written House of the Rising Son in this universe, I’m going to leave a little disclaimer about this song and its origins under the cut, in case you are interested!)

The origins of the song House of the Rising Sun are much older and more complicated than I have presented here. Folklorist Alan Lomax has written more on it if you are interested, but it is commonly thought to have originated as an English folk song, morphing into the version we know today amongst various groups of American immigrants.

Perhaps best known for its 1964 version by The Animals, it has long formed a staple of American folk, blues, rock, and country recordings, with recorded versions by everyone from Lead Belly, Woody Guthrie, Doc Watson, Nina Simone, Dolly Parton, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, and Alt-J (amongst so many others). However, I have taken inspiration from the earliest known recorded version, which was done in Appalachia in 1933.

Of course, in having Antoine write this song I have compressed much of this history into a single figure, as well as slightly twisted the meaning of the song to fit the story line. The latter is mostly based on personal interpretation of the lyrics and is purposefully meant to draw a line from this family’s musical heritage through the 1960s and beyond. It also gives a face to the very real figures behind many of the staples of American music that have come to us from the early part of the 20th century, many of which were written or played by black men and women whose songs have continued onward while many of their names and stories may have been forgotten.

[ravenelyx]

I love you in every timeline - Prologue: In Search of Lost Time

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader

Words: 1.9k

Chapter Warnings: angst if you squint, Harry Potter characters appearance, no name appearance (not even y/n dw), some swearing, use of 2nd person for the reader (I know I know but I promise it makes sense for the story)

Summary: "He turned around, and the world seemed to stop around him. She had followed him: into another timeline, into another universe.". In which Sebastian, in his search for a cure in the Dark Arts, finds himself 100 years into the future and meets his most trusted companion's descendant (who looks far too similar to the girl he was once secretly in love with).

A/N: this is the first english fic I've written, so I'm terrified. Anyway, Trimetravel! AU with Sebastian Sallow. Some background info: Reader is not MC; Reader is a Gryffindor, MC was a Slytherin; MC was a Pureblood, Reader is a Muggle Born. Also, english is not my first language so if you find any mistakes, I deeply apologise. Not proof-read (for obvious reasons).

→ Find the rest of the fanfiction here on AO3 :)

"For we are not as faithful to the being we have most loved as we are to ourselves and sooner or later we forget her — since that is one of our characteristics — so as to start loving another." - Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time

If a chasm had opened under Sebastian's feet and swallowed him all the way to the depths of hell, he would have gladly accepted his demise there and then.

Unfortunately, its mercy seemed to be out of business that day — or any other day in his life, really.

Sebastian paced the corridors, a frown adorning his face; he had just come out of the Headmaster's office due to the absolute disaster that had occurred to him just a few hours prior.

After weeks of research, he had finally found something that could help him, a breakthrough with which he could finally achieve his goal. An artefact so powerful that it could break the fabric of time and space, something that could help his poor sister live a happy and healthy life again. He did not care that they were not on speaking terms at the moment: he would find a way to talk to her so that she would take this last chance. He would force her if he had to. It was his last hope, and Merlin knows he had tried everything.

If he had known about the artefact's effects earlier, he would have thought twice before using it.

"So, Mr Sallow, could you be so kind as to tell us how you came to be in our time?" the Headmaster, who had earlier introduced himself as Albus Dumbledore, had asked him.

Truth was that not having stopped dwelling with the Dark Arts in search of a cure for Anne had led him to find himself in another timeline instead. His face twitched: in terms of unlikelihood, the scales seemed pretty unbalanced.

It had been a brief conversation, really, with Sebastian omitting some details (like his friendship with an Ancient Magic wielder or the murder of his uncle, for which he bore full responsibility) and grimacing against his own will when the Headmaster had looked at him through his half-moon shaped glasses as if asking him, 'Why are you lying to me?'

He had pushed the thoughts away as quickly as they had come: it wasn't like he could read his mind... or could he?

Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief when the Headmaster had dismissed him after giving him specific instructions on how to behave until they found a way to return him to his timeline — one of which was, "Please don't inform anyone of your condition unless it's absolutely necessary." That had seemed quite reasonable to him, so he nodded.

The artefact was damaged, as expected, and unlikely to work again unless a powerful form of magic came into contact with it and repaired it: something like Ancient Magic, perhaps, or a miracle.

"I see you're still causing trouble everywhere you fare, aren't you, Mr Sallow?" the familiar voice of Phineas Nigellus Black had mocked from his portrait, effectively startling him. Sebastian had looked up and into the eyes of his old Headmaster, his mouth falling open at the sight of him. He looked old, weary, and angrier somehow — yet, in a way, he had brought Sebastian some form of comfort, almost. A sense of familiarity.

Before he could have said anything, Black had disappeared, and a woman with severe blue eyes and long robes had escorted him out of the office.

-

Sebastian looked around at his familiar surroundings, which would have been almost comforting if not for the nameless faces looking at him with curiosity: Hogwarts students tended to recognise each other effortlessly, and anyone who didn't fit into that bundle of familiarity was to be ostracised. He remembered all too well when he was the one helping the new fifth-year find her way around those same corridors, except he didn't need guidance: this was his home, after all.

But he did have a guide, and she wasn't as charming a student as he was either.

The Head of the Gryffindor House walked right next to him, a stern expression on her face made even more prominent by the shadow of her large witch hat. The woman Sebastian had come to know as Minerva McGonagall was also the Transfiguration teacher and Deputy Headmistress, at least it seemed that way, which was no doubt why she was accompanying him rather than the Head of his own House.

Sebastian decided not to ask himself any questions and do what the Headmaster told him to: attend class, fit in, and pretend to be either a transfer student or someone with a complex background — he hadn't decided which story to tell yet (and both, in a way or another, would be true).

The clacking of Professor McGonagall's shoes stopped so abruptly that he almost would have missed it if she hadn't started speaking.

"You're about to meet two of your new classmates. Prefects of the Gryffindor House." She raised her left arm in their direction, and his eyes followed it to two red and gold robes leading into warm faces.

"I am pleased to introduce you to Ms Hermione Granger—" she gestured to the girl with curly hair to her left, who wore a friendly smile all while maintaining a serious and clean look, "—and Mr Ronald Weasley." Sebastian's eyes shot to the boy to his right when he heard the familiar name, and to be honest, he might not have needed an introduction at all: the red-haired boy gave him a wry smile, his freckles standing out even more in the natural light. He would have recognised those features anywhere.

Finally, Sebastian noticed their uniforms. He didn't pay much attention to the boy's — he himself also wore a very similar one, uncomfortable and informal as it seemed to him — for his eyes were fixed on the girl's. She was wearing a grey cardigan with red and gold trim, the colours of her House, and her skirt was much shorter than he remembered, with black denier tights covering the rest of her legs. Sebastian felt himself blushing slightly and averted his eyes.

He wondered why the Slytherin prefects were unsuited to the situation: at the end of the day, he was a Slytherin, too. Sebastian didn't undergo the Sorting again — the Professors didn't seem to deem it necessary, not to mention the Hat had recognised him from his shelf, too. He didn’t forget easily.

McGonagall turned back to Sebastian and briefly adjusted his robes, her face softening slightly, "For the time being, it is best if you don't draw attention to yourself. We will find a solution," she straightened her posture and nodded at him, "Welcome to Hogwarts." She turned on her heels and walked away, leaving him with the two Gryffindors.

He studied their faces for a moment, searching for the right words to say, deciding on which story to tell, but the only thing he could muster was: "How come you're Gryffindors?"

The two students stared at him, appalled, and he mentally slapped himself. He wanted to correct his statement and explain his intention, but the girl stopped him before he could even form a coherent thought.

"You're wondering why they asked us to guide you and not the Slytherin Prefects, am I right?"

Either his question wasn't that unclear, or the girl had excellent deduction skills, and judging by the epiphany on the other boy's face when he understood the meaning of her words, it was most likely the latter.

Sebastian sighed inwardly and nodded, mentally promising not to stumble over his words again.

The boy — Ronald, Sebastian recalled — chimed in: "Because otherwise you'd have to deal with Malfoy, and he's an idio—" the girl slapped him on the arm and gave him a warning look before turning back to Sebastian.

Malfoy, Sebastian thought. A family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. It was clear why a Weasley would want nothing to do with him.

Sebastian wondered if they still held the same values as in his day: if the Malfoys were still blood maniacs, and so was the person they spoke of, or if he wanted to distance himself from his family as Ominis did. Judging by Ronald's opinion of him, Sebastian did not think that was possible, but then again, he did not know the fellow. Maybe, Sebastian thought, things had moved on after a century: no blood wars, discrimination or superiority complexes. Perhaps this was all just a simple rivalry between two students from different Houses.

"Professor Dumbledore thought us to be best suited for this difficult situation. No other student but us knows about your... misadventure," said Hermione.

To call it a "misadventure" would be an understatement , Sebastian wanted to say. As it turned out, however, he didn't need a story to tell. He didn't know whether to feel betrayed by the Professors who had decided to disclose that information or relieved that he didn't have to go through it all alone. A beat of silence followed, in which Sebastian could only nod at the girl's words, and then it was interrupted abruptly.

"Where have you been?" called a voice from the end of the corridor, directly behind Sebastian.

He turned around, and the world seemed to stop around him.

He definitely didn't have to go through it all alone because there she was. Standing a few feet away from him, looking straight at him, was the person who had accompanied him on all his adventures.

She had followed him: into another timeline, into another universe.

He felt his lips twist into a grin, and he beamed at the sight of her. Had she been looking for him?

He frowned a little as he noticed her expression: she seemed annoyed, almost angry. Perhaps she had no intention of following him and had just ended up here for no reason? Were the two of them connected on a deeper level than he thought? Or perhaps she was just worried for him and angry he didn't look for her too?

The girl started to walk towards them, and his smile widened even more the closer she got.

She was almost there when he realised she wasn't sparing him a glance.

Instead, her eyes were focused on the red-haired boy next to him, who was staring at her in horror, looking completely terrified.

Sebastian looked back at the girl, finally noticing the red and gold tie around her neck where a green and silver one usually belonged, a crease in her eyebrows that wasn't there before, and her eyes were a different colour than he remembered.

What the hell is going on here?  he thought, staring at her wide-eyed.

"Ron, for God's sake, I've been looking all over for you! Do you intend to give me back my book before class starts, or should I pull a new one out of a hat because you can't use your own?" she threw her hands in the air disapprovingly.

Ron stuttered briefly before hesitantly pointing at the Slytherin boy next to him, "I've just had too much to do. Prefect stuff, you know."

The girl scowled at him before turning to the said boy, her eyes softening slightly. "Oh! You're the new fifth-year!"

Sebastian's eye twitched. How bloody ironic.

"I'm Sebastian Sallow," he replied feebly, body stock-still like marble.

"Nice to meet you," she smiled politely.

And then she introduced herself.

His breath caught in his throat. Sebastian could have recognised that surname anywhere, but her name fell completely deaf on his ears.

You weren't her.

--

→ Chapter 1

[hildegardladyofbones]

Something I've yet to rant about is the inherent sadness and misery of post-tribunal disco elysium. Of course it will *feel* different each time depending on the outcome, but I think I had one of the worst one of all. Everyone fucking died, I didn't have a gun, and I failed all but two skills checks. One of them had a 97% success possibility, so it was almost impossible to fail *that one*. Safe to say it was a shit show. When Harry wakes up, Kim is tired. He is running on his last drop of fuel and he is *so* close to done, but he is Kim Kitsuragi, the entire RCM's finest, he doesn't give up. Still, the air in the post massacre streets of Martinaise feels thick with defeat. Everyone has fucked off, closed off. People are only left with a burning memory and the task to accept what happened, because there's nothing to be done now. The choices you've made snicker at you trying to accept the consequences now. You will never know if you made the right decision.

Not only that, but this game doesn't let you forget for a second, that Harry is severely wounded. When he sleeps in the flak tower it is mentioned multiple times that his wound is bleeding, the game makes a point to comment on how his pelvis hurts, how it's hard to run... and in the final cut scene, the Finale, Jean outright says that Harry is actively bleeding everywhere. This game doesn't let you forget what the character has been through, wounds don't heal when the health bar is full.

Harry has been a broken man from the beginning, not even the beginning of the game, but the post-tribunal gameplay doesn't play along to his madness anymore, it has given up on the fanfare. The tie stops talking and something within me compelled me to turn down on the out-of-pocket replies. It didn't feel appropriate anymore and honestly, it didn't feel like the same game anymore. All that is left is the death and misery present all around him, not contained to inside him anymore. Martinaise is a district that has had to go through the worst, but *it* has learned to cope. Now it just needs time to get back on its feet again. But Harry... Harry is down low, but he's still going. He's not going to take the time to get back on his feet until he's forced to, I think. This pitiful relentlessness only highlights how truly fucked everything in the moment is.

Disco elysium is truly a wonderful game for portraying this misery so bone-chillingly. It forces you to feel the last bit of hope they chased. The ending, the confrontation with his past, can only be described in a word I don't know the English translation for. I don't think it exists.

Õõvastav. The ending is exactly that. Harrowing is the closest word I could think of.

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

Hello, oh my, damn... so english isn't my first language and i wasn't sure how to phrase it better so don't worry, i totally understand being uncomfortable and I'm sorry 😅

I did enjoy your version very much and i also think that you should definitely go for a crow reader cause that is such a cute idea!

- accidentally proposing anon

No problem! And since you're interested here's some very quick ideas I had about crow reader before I go to work today!

Alastor

Nothing phases this man anymore. Niffty literally gifted him a crown of dead roaches. So when you flutter excitedly and present him with a string of shiny can tabs, you've been collecting he accepts it graciously.

"You're quite right dear, these are incredibly colorful. Yes, very shiny are you sure you don't want to keep this? Oh! You made it for me? Well, aren't you just precious."

He makes it into a necklace or even something to decorate his horns.

Vox

Valentino likes light, you like shiny things, both of you tend to like being around screens and bright colors.

Except you don't just like screens, it's anything colorful or shiny. Actually sometimes it's not even that, its just random odds and ends that caught your attention for some reason. He gets it sometimes, textures, patterns, things like that.

But you have everything from soda can tabs to random buttons to rocks of various shapes, sizes, and colors. You have different sticks and pieces of wood you found that for some reason you then had to have. Pieces of mismatched jewelry. It's cute but it also clutters up space and he eventually designates one room for your stuff and tells you to keep it condensed. You do, and swear it's organized, but it's all just a jumbled mess to him.

He's in his lair, observing all the many different cameras, looking for some wannabe actress who owed him money, when you bounce in, barely stifling excited squaking. He sighs fondly and turns to you, knowing he's not going to be able to concentrate until he sees what you want to show him.

It's a collection of your molted feathers, the best ones, sleek and iridescent, bound together with some colorful twine you found and attached to it is a miniature glass jar filled with colorful, shiny bits of plastic, metal, and rock, and corked shut and sealed with hot glue.

It makes a nice rattle sound when he shakes it and the feathers are nice to pet and run his fingers over and..."Did you make me a fidget toy? From....random stuff you found? That's, that's actually really cute, thanks Doll."

He downplays how much he uses it, but it's literally on his key ring, so you know it goes everywhere with him and if during long meetings his staff are subjected to the consistent background noise of little shiny bits rattling around in a jar, then that's their problem.

Lucifer

As you may have noticed Lucifer also tends to collect things he has no need for. But he might need it one day! Between the two of you it does get to be a bit of a problem, so you both agree to sort through and condense your piles.

It takes days cuz you guys keep stopping to show each other cool stuff you guys have. Then, several more days just to get through his numerous rubber ducks. Eventually it's down to a single room where your collections have merged. Each item carefully chosen and presented to one another like expensive jewelry or other such luxurious things. But it's a cool rock you found, a giant bronze spring, a box full of candy wrappers with clever sayings, and a scrapbook with various brightly colored pieces of cardboard from snacks, toys, shoes, literally anything, that caught your eye.

It's anyone's guess on who adds what, but you do both have to agree on it before it's added so you don't hoard things again.

That's the end, but maybe I'll go back and add Adam and some of the other characters later. I just wanted to get my initial ideas down before work.