#that started out about one thing but became hers

[hedgehog-moss]

I had a friend over this week and even though the weather wasn't ideal, we decided we were going to go for a long walk in the surrounding woods with all three llamas. Since Pampelune is the uncontested chief, you just need to halter her and her herd follows wherever she goes. Sometimes we emerged from the woods into a pasture and Pampérigouste started galloping like mad (followed by her daughter & her abandonment issues), but then Pampy would object with some firm hums and the other two returned, chastened.

We'd brought a head of cabbage and we gave her a few leaves every time she successfully used her matriarch authority to re-gather our little group around her, even though she'd do it for free, because it's so nice to be able to go on walks with only one haltered llama and watch the younger ones frolic and explore the world as we go. Pampy seemed happy to walk with us at a steadier pace and to trade freedom for cabbage.

We'd initially planned to stay on my side of the torrent, but after meandering downhill for a long time we unexpectedly found an old bridge I didn't know existed, and it looked very inviting, so we crossed. (Ominous chords.) Then we enthusiastically went up hoping we'd see my house from the opposite hill—and we did, here it is :)

And then we went back into the woods, and got lost. Of course. I really think my friend carries some sort of curse because I don't usually get lost in nature but the last time we went on a great hike we also found ourselves completely disoriented in a featureless snowy plain, trying to glimpse the sun behind clouds and debating whether finding the North would help us in any way.

This time we were quicker to admit we were lost, and I said we could either go uphill, and we'd find the road eventually and the nearest milestone would tell us where we are (or we'd reach a farm on the plateau), or go downhill, and we'd find the stream eventually and cross it and then we'd be in a part of the woods I'd recognise. Probably.

Drawback of going uphill: it's technically the wrong direction, so the way home will be that much longer (and night falls at 5pm)

Drawback of going downhill: we'll have to cross the water at some point. Without a bridge. It would take a miracle to find that bridge again, supposing it was a real bridge and not a fae illusion to lead us astray.

After debating for a bit we decided to go downhill, because we were hopeful that we'd find a shallow spot to cross the stream, and also we feared that at nightfall the llamas might just lie down and decide to spend the night right here, in the woods. It's hard to make a llama get up again once she's decided that enough things happened for today.

The question of whether the llamas would accept to cross a mountain stream with us was left undebated—though we did regret having spent our cabbage too lavishly and too soon.

But we followed a rivulet downhill and Pampe crossed it repeatedly, with merry and graceful mountain goat jumps, which made us feel comforted in our decision.

Then we got to a point where the water became visible, and very noisy, and Pampelune started to feel suspicious. She made worried hums and walked more reluctantly and (having squandered our cabbage) we had to cajole her into compliance.

I love that my friend captured the moment when I crouched down and started straight-up lying to my llama.

Poldine was the last one to realise something was afoot, because she is young and trusting.

Once she did, she also became a bit reluctant (she wanted to go uphill again), and more than once my friend had to open her cloak-like coat in order to look like a bat and persuade Poldine that nothing good was happening in that direction.

We found a spot where the water was pretty shallow and decided to cross. The air temperature was maybe 1°c and the water felt like it was minus twelve so my friend wasn't exactly happy about the series of decisions that had led us to this point. I pointed out that last time in that snowy plain there was this piercing relentless evil wind howling in our ears and making unsettling voice-like sounds when it blew through holes in fences (to help her relativise) and she was like, when did this day go from singing walking songs and watching Pampe gambol in pastures to "at least this time we aren't being driven mad by ghostly wind."

I told her that things that go wrong become the most vivid and fun memories in the long term and we debated this postulate for a bit and I felt like I had successfully distracted her from our plight, until she put her foot in the water and said she wished she were in the metro in Paris right now. In Châtelet even. I said "but in two days you'll be in the Paris metro wishing you were here trying to cross a cold mountain stream with three appalled llamas!" and she said yes. Still, the situation is dire when a Parisian says she would rather be in Châtelet.

Pampe actually followed us quite quickly! I'm pointing this out because I'm always talking about how contrary Pampérigouste is, but she was so great about crossing the stream, even humming to her daughter as if to encourage her. I suppose she was telling Poldine that when they make their final escape and become wild llamas they'll probably have to cross mountain streams now and then.

Poldine panicked a bit once everyone was on the other side of the water except her, and although I'd already wrung out my socks I was psychologically preparing myself to cross the ice-cold water again and go get her—but after walking up and down the other bank desperately looking for an invisible bridge, she resentfully crossed.

Then we went uphill again and eventually found our way to my neighbour's pasture! I immediately recognised the old tree in the middle and I was very happy to see it. My friend was holding Pampy and I had climbed ahead to act as a scout, and I cried out to share my discovery feeling like Vasco de Gama. It was snowing just a tiny bit, and getting darker, and I think everyone (including Pirlouit, languishing alone in his pasture) had started to privately wonder if we were going to spend the night in the woods.

One interesting activity we did when we went home was testing the various objects that live on or near my fireplace to see which ones are heavy and stable enough to hang very wet socks. We tried the wistful wooden shepherd, the porcelain fox, the music box shaped like a pile of books, the vase, and found that the only reliable spots in my living-room to dry your socks are under Sherlock Holmes and under Marie-Antoinette so we agreed on a fair sock-drying rotation. The living-room smelled of wet wool (or wet llama) all evening, but we had a glass of champagne to celebrate the fact that we weren't currently trying to fight hypothermia by curling up between two llamas in some frosty meadow, and we felt pleased with our adventure, all things considered.

We realised a bit late that we had been in such a hurry to go home and warm up we'd neglected to reward our hiking companions, so we very bravely put on new socks and went out in the night to look for the llamas with our phone lights and distribute some muesli. Pirlouit was included in the distribution because he definitely would have crossed the stream with us had he been invited (and told his hay was on the other side.) Also we got a kiss from Poldine so I think she replayed the day's events in her head and came to the conclusion that her mother was, somehow, as always, to blame for all this.

[giannaln4]

Sorry Won't Fix This

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Lando makes the biggest mistake of his life, bigger than any apology, and you both hoped there was a way to fix it. Unfortunately, you both wished it at different times. (5.5k words)

warnings: angst, cheating, mentions of sex, manipulation, mede up characters, use of Y/N

a/n: I FINALLY WROTE MORE ANGST! This is a long one and I held nothing back. I really did try to make it as hurtful and dramatic as possible and ngl I was inspired by 'Don't worry darling' for a tiny part of this (you'll know when you read it) but anyway, this one does NOT have a happy ending so please let me know what you think!

Check out the original request here!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

You had a terrible feeling, but you were too scared to look into it, terrified you would be right. 

Truth is, you started feeling like that just a few weeks ago, when you went back to Lando’s apartment to surprise him with lunch and found an empty room and the bed unmade from somebody sleeping on it. Any other day that would’ve been completely normal, but you had stayed with him the night before and made the bed as soon as you both got up to get ready for your separate plans for the day, leaving a perfectly made bed to come back to. 

Before that day, you would’ve never in a million years thought that Lando would cheat on you. He had always been so loving and caring, even before you started dating, and once you officially became a thing, he would constantly remind you how much he loved you, and on special days he was the most romantic person ever, and you always thought that you would spend the rest of your life with him, but now... you didn’t want to think about it, but you couldn’t bury the thought of him with someone else after it crossed your mind briefly while looking at the messy bed.

Later that night you asked him about it, trying hard not to sound like you were accusing him of something, but his excuse just made you feel worse, your suspicions growing.

“What do you mean?” He asked as he inspected his bed, unsure of what was wrong with it. 

“Well, you know, I made the bed this morning before we left, remember?”

“Oh, uh- yeah, I came back to- to take a nap,” he stuttered, not even looking at you. 

But it kept happening, a few more times.

Things started to change after that; he cancelled the plans you made for when he came back home, he suddenly was too busy every day and your presence might be a distraction for all the things he had to get done for the next race, he was so tired at night he didn’t have the energy for anything, and he even asked you to go back to sleep in your own apartment, claiming he just needed to sleep on his own to be comfortable, even though you were used to sleeping together.

Long story short, he was distant; he was never around anymore, and even when he was, you felt like you were missing him. He was just... different, and you were beating herself up wondering what had changed.

He, on the other hand, didn’t miss you, seeing he didn’t make an effort anymore and he could go days without answering a text or returning a call, ​​and it was not because you took a long time to reply; you would always respond in a heartbeat if it was him. If it weren’t for all the times you visited him at his apartment when a news outlet brought up that he was back in Monaco to make sure he was doing okay, you wouldn’t talk to each other at all.

But today you were feeling hopeful. It was your anniversary, and you had a date night planned — a date he didn’t cancel, so you took the entire afternoon to do your nails, your hair, and pick a beautiful dress to wear, his favourite dress. Your makeup took a while, but you still managed to be ready on time for the wonderful night you had ahead, so you made your way to him, your palms sweating when you knocked on the door.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Was the first thing he asked, wiping her smile off of her face.

“I thought we would go out tonight,” you replied, looking down at your hands to hide your clear disappointment.

“Oh- I guess I forgot to tell you but I remembered I have an important meeting tomorrow morning, so I’m not gonna make it." The door was barely open, and he was standing where the crack was, blocking his apartment as he held the door with a strong grip.

“Okay,” your voice was so faint you barely heard it yourself. “Do you need anything? I could stay here for a couple of hours.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I think it’s better if you leave.”

Tears pricked your eyes, swallowing the small lump forming in your throat. “Why?”

“Well, I’m busy with a few things. You know, I have a really early day tomorrow, and you can’t really help me with a McLaren meeting, can you?”

You shook your head slowly “I guess I’m leaving then.”

The tears you had been holding started to fall as soon as you turned around; you could feel your mascara clumping on your eyelashes and forming black streaks down your cheeks, ruining the contour and highlight you applied in hopes of impressing your boyfriend. You ran back to your car and let it all out once you closed the door. You really thought things would be different tonight, but you were wrong.

You started driving to your best friend’s house, desperate to vent about how terrible your relationship was going since you had been keeping a secret from everyone; the last thing you needed was the media to get in the middle of this. 

“Oh my god, Y/N. Are you okay?” Mia asked you when she saw the mascara tears.

You shook your head as you stepped inside, small whimpers leaving your lips as you tried to stop the crying.

“What happened?” She took your hand and guided you to the couch.

“Lando.” 

“What about Lando?”

“I think he’s cheating on me." You had never said that out loud, and saying it broke your heart even more. “I wish I was crazy, but the signs... I know he is.”

“I’m not trying to defend him or anything, but what makes you think that?”

“Everything, Mia. He has been acting so... distant. Ever since-” You stopped yourself. You never told anyone your relationship with Lando wasn’t doing so well, making up excuses to cover his. You just wanted to hold on to everyone else’s idea of you two, thinking you were the perfect couple.

“What? Have you guys been fighting?”

You took a deep breath before saying, “Remember the last time I stayed over at his apartment?” She nodded in response, “Well, later that day I went back to surprise him with lunch, but he wasn’t there and the bed was a complete mess, and you know I always make the bed when I wake up. He said he went back to take a nap, but he was supposed to be with Carlos all morning, and it didn’t make sense he had time to come back, take a nap, and then leave again, so I asked Carlos, and they didn’t meet at all that day. Is that insane?”

"No, Y/N, of course not.” Mia didn’t know what to say; she wanted to comfort you but she didn’t know how. “And he’s been acting weird since then?”

You nodded, wiping your tears away. “Yeah, he’s been pushing me away since that day. Telling me he doesn’t have time because he’s so busy with the season, which I understand, but not even answering a couple of texts? And cancelling every date we had planned?”

“Is that what happened today? I thought it was your anniversary.”

“It is.” You were nibbling on your lip profusely, looking up so tears would stop falling. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“Have you told him how you feel?” You shook your head again; you hated confrontation, and you were hoping you didn’t have to do that. “I think you should go talk to him.”

“Right now?”

“If not now, then when? You say you’ve been feeling like something’s off for a while, but you haven’t said anything to him.”

“I don’t know Mia-”

“If he is cheating on you then you need to break up with him, you don’t deserve to be in that situation, and you deserve to know the truth.”

You inhaled as you considered what Mia just said. She was right, but to be completely honest, you weren’t ready yet. “I really want to know, but I can't.”

“Why not?”

“Because what if he is?” Tears started rolling down your face again, Mia hugging you tight as soon as it happened. “I love him, and... I just want things to go back to normal.”

“I know you do, but believe me, it’s better if you know.”

You stayed there for a while, but ultimately decided to go talk to him, but you needed to put yourself back together before confronting him. Mia helped you to wash your face and fix your hair, comforting you and offering to stay with you once the two of you were done talking. You accepted; you didn’t want to be alone, and Anne, your flatmate, had been going out of town a lot recently, so your apartment was empty, and you knew it’d be a long night.

Once you felt better and ready to talk to him, Mia drove you to his place as you repeated in your head everything you wanted to tell him. You knocked loudly and didn’t stop until he opened. He looked annoyed, and you stormed inside as soon as he opened the door.

“What are you doing?”

“We need to talk.”

“About what?” 

You blinked at him twice. Did he not think you needed to talk? “About us, Lando. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Okay, now you were mad. “Lando, you have been ignoring me for days, and I understand if you’re busy, but it doesn’t explain you pushing me away at all times.”

“I’m sorry if you feel that way.”

There was a moment of silence, both of you staring at each other as you tried to remember the questions you were supposed to ask, but none of them seemed to make sense now that you were standing in front of him “That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“What do you want me to say?” 

“How about you tell me exactly what’s going on?”

You were both raising your voices, but Lando especially. “I told you already, I’ve been busy with the season-”

“I could’ve stayed here with you or gone with you to races if that meant spending more time together, like we have done before.”

“But why would you want to do that?”

“To keep you company, maybe?” 

“But all you do is stand around while I do my job.”

“Lando, do you know how many weeks I’ve spent away from home just so we can be together? And you don’t even care anymore, you didn’t even care to say thank you.”

“I never asked you to come,” he mumbled.

You scoffed before shaking your head. “I wanted to, you know I worry about you when you stress yourself out about a race, you tend to overwork yourself-”

“I. Never. Asked. You. To. Come." He interrupted you, his tone punctuated with each word. “I would’ve been fine without you, I don’t need you in my hair at all times." His eyes hardened, his mouth opening to speak again. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

“I just- I’m your girlfriend, I guess I thought you liked to be with me.”

“I do, but you don’t have to be so clingy all the time.”

You didn’t say anything, hoping you heard it wrong or that he’d apologise, but he didn't. “What?”

“You know, we do everything together and-”

“No, we used to do things together, not everything." You corrected him.

He took a deep breath, as if he was done dealing with you. “Right. Look, I’m tired, we can talk tomorrow.”

You nodded, holding back the tears as you walked towards the door. “Happy anniversary,” you said before slamming it closed and running back to Mia’s car.

Lando sat on his couch with his head between his hands for a moment. How could he forget? He took a deep breath as he got up, looking for a ribbon and a gift he bought for you who knows how long ago.

He made his way to Mia’s flat; he assumed you would be there, and your car parked outside confirmed his suspicions, so he knocked on the door a couple of times before saying, “Baby, I’m sorry. I was caught up in all the things I have to do before leaving, and I didn’t realise what day it was." But he got no response. “Y/N please, I know you’re here. Will you please talk to me?”

“Go away, Lando.” Mia was the one to yell, making Lando realise he would not be able to fix it, not tonight anyway. 

“Okay, I’m leaving this here. I- I love you.”

You called in sick for your job the next day, your sore eyes and pounding headache being the only things you could think about. Well, that and Lando.

You were staring at the gift he bought for your one-year anniversary — what you were supposed to celebrate the day before. It was beautiful, and you couldn’t believe he remembered you mentioning it on one of your first dates ever, but it was the letter inside that broke your heart. It looked... unfinished, like he didn’t even care enough to give it a proper ending, so you were wondering how long ago he stopped working on it.

The days after that were rough, long nights of wondering what you could have possibly done wrong, but even then you didn’t talk to him. He tried to, a couple of times, but you needed a little bit of time.

A couple of weeks went by, and you found yourself alone at your apartment, catching up on the work you missed for calling in sick so many times.

It was your birthday, and Mia insisted a million times you go out and celebrate, clear your head, and forget about Lando once in for all, but somehow it felt wrong; you had made plans with Lando a few months back to bring your family to a race so they could finally meet him, but obviously that wasn’t happening anymore, so what was the point of celebrating? You just needed to focus and get things done anyway.

You were thankful that Mia had been for you through it all; you really were, but sometimes crying alone did more for you than having someone tell you ‘everything's gonna be okay.' You were tired of hearing that.

Hours later, you found yourself with a cup of coffee to finally catch up on the last project. It wasn’t really that much of a workload, and you didn’t need to stay up all night to do that, but you were going to anyway. Perhaps you just wanted to be productive, or maybe that was you trying to occupy your mind from the possibility of your boyfriend cheating on you.

You looked at the clock; it was 11:30 PM. You sighed, typing away whatever you were supposed to on your laptop, your eyes sore from staring at it for too long, when a text message interrupted you.

Unknown [Attachment: 1 photo]

Unknown: I heard they have been at it for a while.

That text message induced such a great shock on your tired, worn-out body, tears falling down your face as soon as you read it. You didn’t want to open it as you were sure of what this was about, but your curiosity got the best of you.

Tapping on the notification, you prepared yourself mentally to confirm your terrible suspicions. And they were confirmed.

Your vision was blurry from the tears, but you were able to see Lando standing next to his new Ferrari, and he was with someone else, except you couldn’t see who it was, the big jacket and a beanie protecting her identity. He was smiling down at her, eyes full of... love? Those green eyes you thought he reserved for you only, but clearly you were wrong. His big hands were around her waist as hers went around his neck, and his lips were stained with lipstick.

You broke down crying, curled up on your bed as you wore one of Lando’s hoodies that still smelt like him. You now knew what the truth was, but you didn’t want to accept it. What happened to you two? When did he stop loving you?

It was like your heart was ripped from your chest; all that time you spent together down the drain like it was nothing, like it all meant nothing to him.

You didn’t know for how long you cried the night before, but it was now 1 PM and you were just waking up, so you probably cried for hours. There was nothing left you could do to save your relationship, so you made up your mind to break up with him as soon as he came back from the American triple header.

Y/N: We need to talk, just let me know when you’re here.

The message was left unanswered, as usual. You rolled your eyes and put your phone down, returning to your video call with Mia.

“Do you know who that is?”

“No, sorry.” 

You sighed as you sipped your hot coffee “What about the number? Do you know who sent the picture?”

“What’s the number? Maybe I can ask around to see if any of my friends know.”

You sent her the phone number, along with the picture of Lando and the other girl. “Thanks. Don’t show anyone that picture thought. I’m already embarrassed as it is.”

“Embarrassed? Y/N, he should be the embarrassed one, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Maybe I did-”

“No, stop doing that to yourself. We both know it’s not your fault.”

You nodded. “I can’t help it. I just don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Was I not enough? Why did he need to find someone else?”

Mia hated to see you going through that, how you felt like you were not enough or that it all ended because of you, and she hated Lando for causing all of that. “I know it’s hard right now, but I promise you’ll understand that none of this is your fault. Y/N you’re amazing, and he’s an idiot for not realising.”

Talking to her made you feel better, but all those terrible emotions came back whenever you looked at the picture again, a million questions invading your mind. How long has he been doing this? Who is she? Does he still love you? What did you do wrong?

A couple of days later, Lando finally replied to your text.

Lando: Just got back. I’m in my apartment

Your heart sank at the notification; you didn’t want to talk to him; you didn’t want things to be over. There was still a part of you that hoped everything was just a misunderstanding, hoping he wasn’t cheating on you and she was just a friend. But deep down you knew the truth, and the possibility of it being a mix-up was down to zero, and after he made it clear that he didn’t want to be in a relationship with you anymore, you decided to fulfil his wishes.

It was a long drive to his home; it felt longer than usual, but maybe you were just dreading the conversation you knew was about to happen.

You took a deep breath before knocking on the door, Lando opening it almost right away.

"Hey,” he said faintly, worried he got caught.

“Hi.” You entered the apartment you once thought you would move into and looked around. You had been there a million times, and so many of those times were special little moments you shared together, but right now it felt like you were disconnected from the space. “How was the triple header?”

“Not great- I don’t know. It was messy, I guess." He tried to give you a smile but stopped himself when he noticed your stare full of fury. “What did you want to talk about?”

Seriously? “I’m breaking up with you." Your voice was weak, but you did not dare let a tear slip past your waterline; he didn’t deserve to see you cry. 

“What?” The shock in his eyes looked so real that you almost believed him “Why?”

“Did you really just ask that?”

“So that’s it? We’re over?”

“Lando, come on, we’ve been over for a while." You stepped closer to him, pain and anger written all over your face as the tears struggled to stay on your eyes. “We didn’t even feel like a couple anymore. Lando, you forgot our anniversary, and that day you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me. And to think I planned a beautiful night for us and bought you a great gift. Do you have any idea how stupid I felt?” 

“I didn’t know you were feeling like that.”

“Of course not, when have you ever listened to me anyway?”

Lando rolled his eyes “Okay, I understand, but we don’t have to break up, I already explained what happened that day, I was busy and completely lost track of time.”

“And I guess she doesn’t have anything to do with this?” You showed him the picture, his demeanour changing immediately.

“Y/N, I- I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry." His eyes and his voice softened as he tried to reach for you, but you turned around and wiped the tears that managed to leave your eyes, a million questions flooding your mind again.

“So it’s true." You were just confirming to yourself what you already knew. Anger and pain washed over your body. Why her? Why her when you’ve been nothing but perfect to the man you loved the most?

“Baby, I can explain.” 

You turned around to face him again “Who is she?” He shook his head, his eyes begging you not to make him say it while yours watered, “Who is she?” You repeated.

“You don’t wanna know.”

“Why? Cause I might find out you’re cheating?”

A few tears started to roll down his face, his hands desperate to hold yours. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Cause you’re gonna hate me even more." You stared at him, even more tears falling as you tried to think who the girl could be. 

“Did you two- did you sleep with her?” His nod was barely perceptible; if you didn’t already know the answer, you would’ve missed it. Maybe he was right; maybe it’d be better if you didn’t know. 

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.”

“Stop it.”

“I know I fucked up, but she doesn’t mean anything to me, I swear.”

“Shut up, Lando. I just… I don’t understand.”

“Let me explain-”

“And I don’t care how many times you apologise, how do you expect me to forgive you?” You took a couple of steps back, trying to figure out what caused him to do such a thing. “Even if we stayed together and got married and started a family, how can I ever look at you and not think about that?”

"Baby, I want all of that, I want the rest of my life with you, like we talked.”

“That was before you ruined everything.”

“I know what i did is wrong-”

“Wrong?”

“But we can work this out.”

“What? No, Lando, stop.”

“Just give me another chance, please.”

“Is that why you've been so distant, huh? Was she here on our anniversary?” Lando didn’t say anything, and the flashes from Lnado’s knuckles turning white from holding the door closed that night creeped your mind. Your heart ached so much that every time you breathed deeply, it was scorching you to the core “How could you do that?”

“I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising.”

“You know I didn’t mean it.”

“Just stop… god.”

“Y/N just hear me out, I swear it only happened once.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I know that’s not true. Do you know how many times I came to an unmade bed? And how many excuses you made?” He stayed silent. “I don’t care how many times it happened, you still did it and nothing is gonna change that.”

“I know.”

“You’ve been hurt before, right? What if I was the one cheating? Would you just forget it ever happened and come back to me?” Once again, he didn’t say anything. “No. Of course you wouldn’t. Lando, how could I ever forget what you did? Or everything you said to me when we were fighting, and the fact that you lied and- and cheated-”

“But you came all the way here.”

“Because I care, and you... you never cared, you never tried-”

“I care, I care so much. Baby, please, you have to believe me." He tried to reach out to you, but you pushed his hand away.

"No, you don’t, and if I’m here, it’s because I know after this we’ll never see each other again, we’ll never talk again and this just has to end.”

“But I don’t want it to end.”

“Well, you ended it when you cheated on me.”

He stared at you for a moment before continuing. “But… I want you, she didn’t mean anything to  me." He approached you again, his hope growing a little when you didn’t stop him. He put a strand of hair behind your ear, softly brushing your cheek. “I know I fucked up but I can’t go on without you, I just can't.”

“Well you have, countless times while I was left in the dark wondering if I had done something wrong, crying myself to sleep when I couldn’t get a hold of you, Lando, and in the meantime you were with her.”

“I’m sorry-”

“And you have the nerve to say all that shit to me, acting like I was suffocating you when in reality I was trying to save us!” You pushed him away.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, please let’s talk about it.”

“Fine, let’s talk about it. Was she worth it?” He shook his head, ready to leave his pride behind as he kneeled in front of you and grabbed one of your hands. “What are you doing? Stop.”

“I promise it was an accident, it won’t happen again.”

“An accident? Lando, are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Please, don’t let me go." The grip on your hand tightened, pulling you closer to him.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

“No. I don’t want anyone else, I want you, Y/N”

“You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“But everything I said... I meant it, I love you Y/N and every second we’ve been together has meant everything to me. Baby, you have to understand.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying, you know I’m not." You pushed his hand away, rolling your eyes when another tear rolled down his face. “I know I don’t deserve it but please... just one more chance and I can fix this.”

“Give you a chance? I gave you a chance when I believed your excuses, when I forgave you for cancelling every date we had planned, when I tried to understand why you locked me out, and when I almost forgave you for forgetting our anniversary, I gave you so many fucking chances!”

“But I swear it wasn’t like that, she meant nothing.”

“You’re unbelievable… god, what are you saying?”

“Just think about how great we are together,” he said, trying to hold your torso, but once again you stopped him. 

“Lando, stop that.”

“We’re a great team, aren’t we? We understand each other so well, we know each other better than anyone else, god, I’ll do anything, I swear.”

“No, it’s not gonna work.”

“Yes it will, and I’ll make sure of that.”

“No.” You were having a hard time blocking out how much love you still had for him, but you weren’t forgiving him; there was no way.

“I swear I don’t want anyone else." He held your hands and started kissing them, his lips giving you a sense of home that you missed. "Y/N, please, I love you.” 

You nodded weakly as you started crying again.

“You know I love you and I would do anything for you." He continued kissing you, a few tears falling on your hands. “Do you still love me?”

“I love you... Lan-” You released one of your hands from his grip, squeezing your eyes shut and covering your face.

“See? It will work, we will make it work." You shook your head; you were feeling stupid for almost falling for that. "Baby, look at me, it’s going to be okay, I promise.”

A moment of silence fell into the room as you collected your thoughts again, and he just looked at you hopeful that he could get you back. “Who is she?” You dared to repeat the question as you looked at him again.

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, his voice barely above a whisper when he finally answered. "Annie.”

Annie, your flatmate Annie. She had never met Lando before you, and she wasn’t interested in who he was when you first told her you started dating him, so you were the reason they knew each other for all those times he picked you up from your place, and even then you never considered them to be friends; they barely exchanged any words when they ran into each other. You felt betrayed on a whole new level, not only by Lando but by her too. You had lived with her for so long, literally since the day you moved to Monaco, so you thought of her as one of your closest friends; how could she do that? And these past weeks, when she had been mourning your relationship with Lando, she was there the whole time, and she knew exactly what was happening.

“How long?”

You were getting annoyed at how long it was taking him to answer your simple questions. “The day we went to meet my parents... I drove to your apartment to pick you up, but you weren’t there yet.”

“So you did it at my place?” It wasn’t really a question, and you felt even more disgusted at the thought of them in your own home.

“It was one moment of weakness.”

“One moment of weakness?” He nodded, his hands now holding on to your hips. “But it didn't stop there, did it?”

“I’m sorry.”

You swiped the tears away as you prepared to ask the question you had been asking yourself for weeks. “What does she give you that I can't?”

Lando shook his head quickly. “Nothing, you’re everything I could ever ask for.”

“Then why did you do that?”

He didn’t have an answer; he didn’t really know how it happened or why it kept going, but he couldn’t deny he was enjoying it before he got caught. “I don’t know." He whispered.

“Do you love her?”

“No, of course not. I love you." He was holding you tighter, convinced that if he held you long enough, you would want to stay.

“Oh my god, I’m so stupid.”

“You know it didn’t mean anything, it was a mistake-”

“Get your hands off me, I’m leaving,” you said as you tried to free yourself.

“Baby, please don’t leave, you have to hear me out.”

“Lando, let go. I don’t wanna be here." Your words struggled to come out from how much you were crying. 

“Please don’t, I don’t wanna let you go." He looked up at you, his eyes begging for forgiveness. “Let’s just talk about it, yeah? Let me explain.”

“Save it, Lando, it’s over.” 

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. This is obviously my fault, so I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to stay, just please, one more chance is all I’m asking for.” You finally freed yourself, and your only goal was to go back to your apartment and cry all your pain away. You turned around and headed to the door; his hand tried to come to stop you, but you flinched away. You couldn’t bear to hear another word from him. "Baby, please, I love you.”

You turned around to face him one last time, spotting Lando still on his knees in the middle of his living room. “So you’ve said, but how can you hurt someone you claim to love so much?” He was about to say something, but you didn’t wanna hear it. “There’s nothing you can do to get me to stay, you threw everything away.”

“I know, my love, but-”

“I’m gonna leave and you’re gonna stay here, just… leave me alone, I don’t ever wanna see you again.”

You exited the room, leaving Lando alone and a complete mess. He regretted what he did, and he wanted to think that if you would just give him a chance to explain himself, you’d forgive him. But he knew that would never be the case and that his mistake was bigger than any apology; you were right to leave him.

He stared at the door for too long, taking in every emotion he was feeling: remorse, anger, pain, agony... he just felt like life was being sucked out of his body because he ruined the most important part of it, and there’s no one to blame but himself.

[avelera]

Analysis: Why Jayce broke up with Mel in Arcane 2.08

Since the finale episodes of Arcane dropped this morning, I've been going back and re-watching some of my favorite scenes, and I was struck by Jayce breaking up with Mel.

First of all, yeah, he clearly does break up with her, though I missed how formally he does so on my first watch-through. He does it in the Council chamber, just before Viktor attacks. But since they get interrupted, he finishes breaking up with her (after checking in with her) on the balcony later.

But what really struck me about the breakup wasn't in those scenes, but actually back in 2.07, when Jayce is alone in cavern in the darkest timeline. I definitely didn't catch on the first viewing that this is where he chose to break up with her.

In the background, you can hear Jayce in the depths of his despair and solitude starts going over in his mind all the steps that led him to where he is.

Here are some of the quotes he hears:

"I never asked for this!" - Himself to Viktor, trying to justify his actions up to that point just before Viktor leaves him.

"This research is everything, my whole life," a quote from one of his first conversations with Viktor but, more importantly, it establishes Jayce's entire raison d'etre up to that point. Hextech research was his life.

"He was my mentor, Mel, and I betrayed him," obviously is Jayce discussing the coup d'etat against Heimerdinger he orchestrated to save Viktor, but it was with Mel's assistance and urging.

"You must destroy it. It corrupts. Consumes." A quote from Heimerdinger, warning against Hextech. Which must feel especially prescient now that Jayce is stuff in the evil bombed-out future where Hextech destroyed the world.

"I was trying to create magic." Jayce to the Council to defend his Hextech research and save himself from banishment, but, he only mentioned magic at Mel's goading, which I would guess he's beginning to recognize now for what it was in retrospect.

"It's your time now, Jayce." Mel, part of her goading of Jayce into advancing Hextech research and his political career.

"Perhaps it's time for the era of magic." Mel's words on the night she saw Hextech for the first time, after helping Jayce and Viktor break into Heimerdinger's lab.

"You must destroy it." Heimerdinger about the Hexcore, again, probably feeling pretty prescient right now with Jayce literally in the pit of despair in a the evil Hextech future.

Finally, while looking out over the fire while clearly going nearly insane from the isolation, Jayce begins to hallucinate seeing Mel. But then, her image in the fire gives way to Viktor's.

The decision has been made there. It's not just Jayce reflecting on his two closest loved ones (as I thought the first time), rather, it is the moment Jayce makes his decision: he is picking Viktor over Mel. He has decided that the reason he is here in this terrible place is because of Mel, not Viktor. He is choosing his partner, going back to what they had before she became involved in their life. His new course is set.

Now, I want to preface the next part by saying I love Mel, she's a fascinating character, and though I ship Jayvik I also ship/shipped MelJayVik, so this isn't coming from a place of bias. I'm just analyzing the material when I say these flashbacks were Jayce rearranging the narrative in his head and realizing Mel's been manipulating and goading him in his pursuit of Hextech.

Given where he is when this is happening: starving, freezing, in pain, alone for weeks if not months in a stone box, slowly going insane, surrounded by the burnt corpses of people destroyed by Hextech, I'd say... yeah. His need for someone to blame is pretty understandable. He even starts whispering, "No!" in a panic at the memories in response to what she says in his mind.

So when we get to the Council chamber in the main timeline in 2.08, I'd argue that Jayce is spoiling for a fight. He's had months of agony to decide things are over with Mel and that he's angry at her. He wants to blame her for what happened to Viktor, for what happened to him, and he's in pain and he wants to lash out. The relationship is definitely over.

But then Mel is in pain too. And Viktor shows up, with his own autonomy, showing that they all had their shitty parts to play in this drama.

The attack by Viktor adds another element, Jayce was probably also mourning that he had to shoot Viktor at that point, another thing that was painful and made him want to lash out and blame others for this horrible place he's in emotionally and the horrific place he's been in physically until recently.

It's only after Viktor's attack though that Jayce realizes that this situation is complex, it's not all Mel's fault. It would be easier to just pin all the blame on Mel and make Jayce and Viktor her victims, but Viktor shows to him that he has his own agency and Jayce needs to be clear-eyed going forward about who he is saving, because it's not "Mel's victim". Viktor is his own person.

Jayce also remembers some of the care he once had for Mel when he catches her before she falls (in a tender moment I mistook for a full reconciliation between them the first time but no, it's just him remembering he cares for her wellbeing). Jayce can't trust her anymore, after realizing just how adept she was at manipulating him without his realizing, but he does still care for her as a person. And he's cooled off enough to address the pain she is clearly carrying.

(I admit, I do love this moment of him calling himself an ass, because I adore Jayce but it's a lovely beat of self awareness and really shows his growth as a person that he can say this to someone that just hours before he was squaring up to fight against and blame for all his misfortunes.)

But anyway, the moments you really see that it's over between Mel and Jayce:

When he doesn't explain to her what happened to him. That's not for her to know anymore. He's decided that they're not together or intimate anymore. And he's probably still hurting from realizing how she's used what he told her in the past to encourage/manipulate him to her own ends and therefore wary of sharing. This is also a reason for the breakup: he can't share the immense pain he's been in because he can't trust her anymore, and he knows it. It's over.

In the scene on the balcony when he turns away from her instead of towards her before offering his advice. Jayce is very touchy-feely, he always offers physical comfort to his loved ones. But there, he deliberately turns away instead of taking her in his arms and comforting her. Again: it's over between them. But he still respects her. So he reminds her of how indomitable she is, along with offering the slight backhanded compliment born of his distrust for her: she's never the passenger, she is always the one in control. He knows, because he's realized she used to control him.

I've mentioned in other meta that this season deals in a lot of comeuppance for events in S1, and this is arguably Mel's. She'll be ok, she's got magical sun powers and she's the head of a powerful house now. But she doesn't get to keep Jayce in her life as her lover anymore after what she did, because she did manipulate him, even if she had good intentions mixed with the self-interested ones.

The trust is simply gone now. But he cares for her and wishes her well, so, I'd argue they parted on as good of terms as could be done.

[no1mikasimp]

I’m from India, my parents thought having a TV created ‘bad habits’ in children so we’ve never had a Television in my household, instead me and my sister had unlimited and unsupervised internet and PC privileges since kindergarten.

Once we were trying to watch Phineas and Ferb on YouTube (we heard about it from our friends) when I was in first grade and my sister in second, in the YouTube recommendations on the side it recommended us a Princess Tutu AMV. We watched it— instantly fell in ✨ love ✨ and my sister soon found a website where we could watch the entire thing aside from YouTube (Animenova was the site’s name, it’s shutdown now)

After that watching Princess Tutu we found other anime like Mermaid Melody, Mew Mew Power, Cardcaptor Sakura and by the time I was we were in 4-5th grade we had already started watching almost anime anime we could find from comment sections and recommendation lists, it was then around the time AoT released and we watched it, then my sister found an anime called Owari no Serpah (Seraph of the End) which had the same concept as AoT but with vampires and it became our fav anime for a few long years along with stuff like Magi and Railgun through Owari no Seraph and the incredibly gay sexual tension between its two male protagonists Mika and Yuu, my sister and I found ✨ Yaoi ✨ at 10-11 years of age. I initially didn’t really like it but then by the time was 11 I was consuming that shit almost every day (started with Hybrid child, Sekaichi Hatsukoi, Junjou Romantica and Super Lovers) i wanted to consume more super lovers so I asked my sis where she read her Yaoi manga and general mangas too ofc, she recommended me our god and saviour ✨ mangago ✨ from where I proceeded to read Super Lovers and got heavily confused cuz everything was highly censored and I didn’t know what sex was (growing up in a conservative society like india does that, especially when you’re a girl watching anime since first grade and have no interest in anything else) then I read Royal Servant and found out what 🎀 sex 🎀 was.

Have never looked back since.

I only watched Death Note when u was in like 7th grade, so pretty late I guess. Mainly watched it cuz I heard there was a popular shop between L and Light.

Now, I’m turning 20 in a month and over half my life has been spent being a full time weeb, and almost my half life spent reading gay people making love and holding hands.

Never could have asked for a more perfect life.

Before anyone asks,

No, my parents still don’t know what me and my sister did with that unlimited and unsupervised internet access.

Whenever my parents see me reading Ao3 and ask what it is, I just tell them I’m reading a novel and they get so proud and like, ‘we raised you two so well.’ And give themselves a pat on their backs. They don’t know. It’s so freaking funny.

I also make my mum buy me Yaoi manga and BL novels with her money and she never says no cuz ‘reading is a good habit’

I have two entire bookshelves filled with books, one half normal stuff like Rick Riordan and stuff and the other half pure BL.

That post about death note being "everyone's first anime" (untrue statement) made me curious and now I want to gather data for science

Can you reblog this and tell me where are you from and what was your starter anime?

[loulovingho]

tags: violence (gay bashing), homophobic slurs, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, healing, heading toward getting back together, happy-enough ending

(ao3 link or read below)

Like Fine China

“Hey, I need you to keep your eyes open for me, okay? You hear me? Try to keep your eyes open.”

He recognized that voice. The last time he'd heard it was just a few weeks ago, at the hospital. Who was it for though? Why was he at the hospital that time?

His brain felt like a jumbled mess. His body felt even worse.

He just wanted to sleep.

“Tommy! Tommy, can you hear me?”

Athena! That's who was speaking to him.

He opened his mouth, cracked one eye open. God, it hurt!

“I- I'm,” the words felt foreign as they escaped him. His voice didn't sound like his own. His mouth was dry, and held a bad taste.

Whiskey and... and metal.

Blood.

“Tommy, paramedics are on their way, okay? I just need you to stay with me until they get here.”

It was dark, but something was shining bright in his face.

“Flash... Flashlight,” he managed to get out, squeezing his eye back shut.

“Eyes- Eye open, Tommy. I'll get the flashlight out of your face, but I need to know you're with me.”

Wait. Had she said paramedics? They couldn't. He couldn't let them- let him see.

“No, no, no,” he mumbled out, shaking his head a couple times until a sharp pain shot through it. “No, h- he can't. I don't-”

“They're not on shift, Tommy.”

He tried to push himself up, away from where she hovered over him. He didn't manage to get very far before she placed a hand on his chest.

“Tommy, you cannot get up. I need you to stay still, and stay conscious. Those two things are your only jobs. You hear me?”

“I can't,” his words were so garbled. He coughed up the blood that'd been dripping down his throat.

I can't let him see.”

“Listen to me, Tommy!” Athena exclaimed, getting right in Tommy's face. He could barely see her, but he could feel her breath on his face. “They're not coming. Buck isn't coming; it'll be someone else.”

In the distance, he heard the sound of sirens. He didn't feel relief. Didn't feel much of anything at all. He was fading, fast. It took all his energy to force out one last sentence before he lost consciousness. “Don't... Don't tell him.”

*****

He just wanted to go out for a drink. Something a little stronger than craft beer.

It'd been two weeks since he broke up with Evan- no, Buck. He was Buck now.

It'd been two weeks since he broke up with Buck and the ache in his chest felt the same way it did the second he walked out of the loft.

He'd thought he was saving himself from future heartbreak, and maybe he was, but it didn't quite make it hurt any less.

Georgie's wasn't exactly a gay bar, but Georgie was gay and the bar itself became a sort of unofficial hang out for older people in the lgbtq+ community. No loud music and everyone left each other alone. A perfect place to decompress while still allowing yourself to be free.

After a couple of whiskey sours, and yeah, a pitcher of craft beer, Tommy was ready to go.

He waited outside, near the alleyway, for his Uber. He found himself going to his messages, hovering over Evan's name. He hadn't had the heart to change it to Buck yet.

He'd been wanting to text him since the breakup. Talk about it some more. Actually give a reason for why it- why he- fell apart so fast. How Buck's words triggered some terrible memories for him. How he suddenly realized there was no way he could be everything he thought Buck needed. Everything Buck deserved. Not to mention they hadn't even exchanged I love you's. And it was insane to think all of Tommy's things could fit in Buck's loft. Buck's things could fit in his house so much easier!

He clicked on Evan's name, started to type something out, erased it, started again, erased it again.

He was usually so aware of his surroundings. His time in the military did that to him. It did a lot of things to him actually, many of which he wasn't very thankful for. However, he prided himself on not being oblivious.

Tonight he was oblivious.

He didn't expect five men to jump him at once. He was a strong guy. Had taken on three men about fifteen years earlier. Did it with ease too.

But not five men. Not when one had a bat, and one had brass knuckles, and one was at least 6'5 and three hundred pounds. Not when they dragged him to the ground and into the alley before he had a chance to react. Screaming slurs at him as they took turns using his body as a punching bag.

He tried to fight. At one point, he was sure he kicked one of the guy's in the face. Heard him yell something like, “The fag broke my tooth!”

It only made things worse.

He wasn't sure when he first lost consciousness, but he knew they were still on top of him. Still laughing as they hit and kicked. He heard the sounds of someone spitting at some point. Felt wet on his face.

Then there was nothing.

Until someone stepped out from somewhere, and maybe they heard him groan? Maybe it was his Uber driver wondering where he was? Maybe it was an employee taking out the trash? He wasn't sure. He could barely hear someone telling him they were calling the police. There was a ringing in his ears, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. Someone said something about wheezing, barely breathing. He wondered what that was about.

Then there was Athena. Then nothing again.

*****

The next time Tommy opened his eyes, he was in a dimly lit hospital room. He was confused. Could barely see out of one eye and everything was blurry out of the other.

His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and maybe some tiny humans hitting his brain with hammers.

“Are you... awake awake or not really awake?”

The sound of a man's voice startled him. He couldn't hardly move, but he was able to focus his eyes across the room at the figure in the corner.

“Ed- Eddie?”

God, his voice sounded weird. Why did it sound like that? Like he'd spent the last 30 years smoking a pack a day.

“Yeah, I'm here.”

He sounded hesitant. Maybe they'd had this conversation before? If they had, Tommy certainly didn't remember it.

“Wha- Why?”

Eddie stepped closer. “You're in the hospital, Man.”

Tommy wanted to roll his eyes. No duh.

He settled for clearing his throat, which turned into a burning sensation running down his chest. “Why're you... here?” he tried. Hoped Eddie understood that much.

“Tommy-”

“I t- told Athena-” he had to pause to take a breath. “Told her not to tell.”

“Actually, you told Athena not to tell him. And she assumed, correctly, I'm sure, that him was Buck. So she called me instead.”

Tommy closed his eyes. “Why?”

“Why'd she call me? Oh, maybe because you don't have anyone listed as an emergency contact and you were nearly beat to death so she figured you might need someone to be here when you woke up.”

Tommy's jaw clenched at Eddie's harsh words.

Nearly beat to death.

He was nearly beat to death.

Eddie either noticed Tommy's heart rate going up on the monitor, or his eyes filling with tears, because he was right beside his bed in two strides. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, I- I'm kinda pissed, Man.”

“S'okay,” Tommy replied, swallowing hard. “I deserve it.”

Eddie looked taken aback. “No, I'm not- Tommy, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at this,” he said, gesturing over Tommy's body. “I've never seen...” Eddie's voice trailed off and, through Tommy's own blurry vision, he could see that Eddie was close to crying.

“What'd they do to me?” Tommy asked, barely able to take in all his injuries. His entire body hurt, no part any worse or less than the other. He could feel something on every limb, but he couldn't quite move his head around enough to see what it was.

Eddie took a deep breath. He wiped at his eyes with his fingers, sniffling before getting started. “You've got bruising on about seventy-five percent of your body. You had surgery for a busted kneecap on your right knee. Your left arm has a fracture, and your right one has thirty stitches, I think. They broke a few ribs, so it's gonna hurt like hell when you take a deep breath or cough. Um, you had some internal bleeding, but they got that under control pretty fast. You've got a fracture in your cheek, which may cause some extra pain when you talk. You've got a few broken fingers too, and lost a couple fingernails during your- when you were defending yourself.”

“Hm,” Tommy hummed once Eddie was done. “S'that all?”

Eddie shook his head, rolling his eyes. “I'm sure I missed a couple things, actually, jackass.”

Tommy let out a laugh, which quickly turned into a groan. “Thanks for coming, Eddie,” he said, trying and failing at moving himself into a slightly more comfortable position. “You don't have to stay though. I'll be fine.”

Eddie stared at him incredulously. “You're kidding me.”

Tommy shifted his eyes back in Eddie's direction. “No, I- I'll be okay. I've got it. Just,” he paused to take a breath, “don't let Buck know, please.”

Eddie raised a finger toward Tommy. “Well, see, about that. You only told Athena not to tell him before, and-”

“You didn't.”

“-and see he was already at my place when I got the call, so-”

“Please tell me you didn't.”

“I have one with cream and one with sugar and- Oh my God, you're awake!” The sound of Buck's voice had Tommy's head twisting toward the door so quickly that a pain shot from the bottom of his back all the way to the top of his head. “Ow!” he yelped, clenching his teeth and tossing his head against the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Oh my God. Has the nurse come in yet? Have they checked his vitals? Eddie, you said he'd be out for a while! Tommy, do you feel any nausea? Do you remember who we are? The nurses said you might have-”

“Buck!” Eddie exclaimed. “Stop. He's okay.” He glanced over at Tommy, “I did forget to mention the head trauma.”

Tommy groaned, giving him a glare.

Eddie walked over to Buck and took the drink carrier from his hands. “I'll go find a nurse, you stay with him.”

Tommy wanted to yell out to Eddie to please not go, and also screw you, and maybe throw a couple hand gestures in there too. He stayed silent instead.

Buck looked Tommy up and down, hesitating slightly before walking up to the side of the bed. “So, you're-”

“I want to see myself,” Tommy blurted.

“Oh, um, I... Tommy, I don't. It might be better to wait.”

Tommy managed to move his head enough to look up at Buck. He could see the fear- no, the panic- in Buck's eyes.

“I wanna see," he repeated.

“Tommy-”

“Buck!” It took a lot of strength to get his name out so forcefully, and he didn't quite mean it to sound as angry as it did, but this wasn't Buck's decision. It was his. And he wanted to see what he looked like.

Buck pulled his phone from his back pocket, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled up the camera.

Slowly, he lifted the phone up to Tommy's face.

The second it registered that he was looking at himself, Tommy sucked in a breath. He grimaced as pain radiated through his chest but, when Buck went to move the camera away he stopped him. “No,” he said. “Just. Just wait.”

He knew his eyes were swollen by how out of focus his vision was, but he had no idea just how bad they looked. The right was worse than the left, but both were an angry mixture of black, purple, and green. The bruise on the left side of his face ran down his cheek to his jaw, circling underneath his chin like a half moon and fading into his facial hair. There were marks on his neck. Looked like someone's hand. He could understand Eddie's hesitancy on mentioning that. He didn't remember anyone gripping him there, which was probably for the best.

His forehead had more bruises, and cuts too. There was dried blood at his hairline, some stitched up cuts. His curly hair was nearly matted to his head, his scalp a brutal crimson.

“I tried to wash the blood out of your hair with a washcloth,” Buck explained anxiously, “but you have some lacerations on your scalp and I didn't want to bother them until they healed a little more.”

It was all so overwhelming. There was a whirring sound in his ears that made him feel dizzy. His eyes burned as they filled with tears that he didn't have the strength to wipe away.

“Okay,” he said, his voice uneven. He cleared his throat. “Can you- You can go, please. I don't... You can go.”

“Tommy-”

“Ev- Buck, I'm awake, I'm fine, I don't need anyone here.” He stared straight ahead, unable to look Buck in the eyes. “Please.”

“No.”

Tommy really didn't feel like dealing with stubborn Evan right now. “I don't-”

“I don't really care, Tommy. I'm not leaving you here. I've been at this damn hospital for three days now and I'm staying until you go home. I don't care what-”

He was cut off by the sound of footsteps behind him.

“Got the nurse,” Eddie said, an awkward smile on his face. The nurse, to her credit, ignored all the tension in the room.

“Let me get some hand sanitizer and gloves and I'll be right with you, Mr. Kinard.”

Buck sighed. He stepped even closer to Tommy. “I'm gonna go into the hall long enough for the nurse to check you out,” he said, maneuvering himself until he was halfway leaning over the bed, his arm on the other side of Tommy to prop himself up as he forced him to make eye contact. “I will be back in a few minutes. You have people who care about you, Tommy, whether you like it or not.”

With that said, Buck stood back up and left the room.

*****

Tommy spent a few more days in the hospital before he was released. There were only two times that Buck left long enough to get a shower and get a little rest in a real bed. Both of those times, he made sure Eddie was there the entire time.

Athena had come in to get his statement. Asked him all sorts of questions, most of which Tommy couldn't answer. He hadn't really gotten a good look at them. Only had very basic descriptions. He remembered the slurs they had hurled at him, knew they attacked because he was gay. He couldn't really figure out how they knew though. Besides being outside of that bar, it wasn't like Tommy ever did anything that screamed gay. Not that it mattered.

She'd been honest with him. There were no cameras at that part of the street, or in the alleyway. No one got a good description of the attackers, and the person who called the police only saw their shadows as they disappeared into the night. She'd do everything she could, but it wasn't likely they'd find these men. At least, not until they did this again.

Bobby stopped by once with some homemade chicken noodle soup. Buck had to feed him every bite, which made Tommy feel like he was about to cry the entire time, but he managed half a bowl before he had to stop. It was a million times better than anything the hospital had been feeding him, and he was glad to know Bobby had put some in his freezer to give Tommy when he got home.

Chim and Maddie came one evening. He'd been asleep when they got there, woke up some time during their visit, but he kept his eyes shut until they left.

Honestly, every time someone walked through the doors he felt more and more like running out of the hospital and finding a hole to fall into. Then, if he were lucky, someone would just shovel some dirt over him and let him rest.

These weren't his people. They were Buck's people. They didn't need to be there for him. They needed to hate him. They needed to laugh at his bruises and tell him he deserved every last one. They needed to yell at him for breaking Buck's heart to try and save his own.

That'd be a lot easier than this.

Thankfully, Hen and Karen didn't come by. They did send flowers though, and a card that explained both kids had strep throat and they didn't want to risk bringing that to the hospital. They'd come by Tommy's place once he was home.

He and Buck didn't talk about anything that needed to be talked about. All the unsent messages that had swirled through Tommy's mind didn't matter right now. It was like an unspoken rule between the two of them. Right now was not the time to try and fix whatever happened between them. Right now was about Tommy healing.

*****

As soon as they got Tommy home, Buck left Eddie with him so he could go to the pharmacy and pick up his medications. When he got back, Eddie headed out to go home and rest, promising to come back later with a variety of foods that would be easy on Tommy to eat.

The silence felt more... silent at Tommy's house. It was different now that they were at home instead of a hospital with people coming in and out at all times.

Tommy needed to do something, say something, to break the silence.

“I wasn't on a date,” he muttered out as Buck organized his pain meds on his nightstand.

Buck paused briefly before getting right back to it. “Didn't think you were.”

Tommy nodded. “Okay. I just, I don't know, didn't want you to think that.”

“You go to Georgie's when your brain is working overtime and you need it to quiet down.”

Tommy's eyebrows furrowed. “I didn't know I ever told you that.”

“You didn't,” Buck replied, handing Tommy his pills and a glass of water. “I just know you.”

Tommy swallowed the pills, wincing slightly. His throat still felt scratchy even a week later. “I don't know how they knew,” he said as Buck took the water from him and set it on his nightstand.

“Who knew what?”

“Those guys that-” he stopped. “I don't know how they knew I was gay.”

“A lot of queer people hang out at Georgie's,” Buck answered. “They probably took a guess.”

The thought of it made Tommy's stomach lurch. “I've spent most of my life trying to make sure people couldn't guess.”

Buck watched him for a moment quizzically. “Tommy, you're not... You don't blame yourself for this, do you? You know this wasn't your fault, right?”

Tommy avoided eye contact with Buck. He felt so small right now. “I know I didn't do anything to provoke them.”

“That doesn't really answer my question.”

“I just... I don't know what I could have done differently. I know I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings. I... I should probably go to a different bar, maybe. I don't know.”

“You can't be serious right now.”

“This is everything I feared my entire life, Buck,” Tommy admitted and, God, he wished he could shut up right now. The pain pills were starting to make him a little loose lipped, mixed with him truly being alone with Buck for the first time since they broke up, mixed with an undeniable fear every time he thought about that night, seemed to make it impossible to close his mouth. “I did everything to make sure nothing like this would ever happen to me and it still did. I keep thinking about it and wondering how it could have been different. How I could have been different.”

“Tommy, can you look at me?”

Slowly, Tommy looked up at Buck, his eyes shining with tears.

“This was not your fault. There's nothing you could or should have done differently. You cannot let those five men shove you back into a closet.”

“I-” Tommy cleared his throat. “They're not. It's just... a lot right now.”

“I get that, I- I do. You look tired. Why don't you rest for a bit, okay? I'll be here when you wake up.”

“Buck, you don't-”

“If you tell me I don't need to stay I will force feed you bone broth when you wake up.”

Tommy shivered. “Ugh! I hate bone broth.”

“I know you do.” Buck gently pulled a pillow out from under Tommy, allowing him to lie back easier. “Close your eyes, get some rest. I'm here when you need me.”

*****

They were bound to fight sometime. Tommy had honestly expected it to happen sooner. Buck had been staying with him for three weeks now, only gone when he was working a shift. Bobby had let him work part time for now, with Carla caring for him when Buck was gone.

They'd managed to get past the initial awkwardness. Buck rambled about any and every subject he could think of. They'd watch movies together on the couch, with Tommy falling asleep halfway through due to his pain meds.

Buck would get Tommy tucked in bed, then set himself up on Tommy's floor in case he was needed during the night. Tommy had tried to insist he use the spare room, but Buck wouldn't hear of it. He knew Tommy wouldn't call for him if he needed him through the night.

Then Tommy tried to suggest he sleep in the bed. But that was a no go because, “I kick, Tommy, you know this. Do you really want another knee surgery?”

They'd been focused on Tommy getting better. And they'd been ignoring the many, many elephants in the room.

So, a fight was expected.

What wasn't expected was for the fight to start because Tommy needed to pee.

Buck had seemed a bit more on edge today, but Tommy chalked that up to a shift that ran longer than expected.

Tommy had grabbed his crutches, which he'd just been able to start using to go short distances. He still didn't quite trust himself to use them at night, but he was working toward relying on them more and relying on people less.

When he stood, Buck immediately stood with him.

“I'm fine, Buck. I just need to go to the bathroom.”

“I'll help you there.”

“I'm really fine. I can get there by myself.”

Tommy was sure he had kept his tone neutral. He definitely didn't want an argument tonight. But, before he could even make it two steps, he heard Buck scoff. “Not surprised.”

And maybe it was the full bladder making him extra bitchy, but Tommy couldn't help turning around and asking, “What's that mean?”

Buck shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nothing.”

“Obviously it's not nothing. If it were nothing you wouldn't have said anything in the first place. What doesn't surprise you?”

“Just you, ya know, pushing people away. It's what you do.”

“Ha!” Tommy laughed out. “If I'm pushing people away then I really suck at it because you haven't left my house in three weeks. I just need to pee.”

“I'm not talking about right now. I'm talking about me telling you that I loved you and you breaking up with me.”

How in the hell did they end up here?

“You didn't tell me you loved me, Evan!” Tommy exclaimed, unbelievably confused. The sudden change in tone caused Buck to take a step back.

He was only thrown off for a second, quick with a retort. “Of course I did!”

“No, you absolutely did not! You asked me to move in with you, but you did not tell me you loved me.”

“Wait. You asked him to move in with you?” Eddie's voice had them glaring in his direction. Both had forgotten he was even there in the first place. He raised his hands. “Sorry.”

“Well, I- it was obviously implied,” Buck argued. “I wouldn't have asked you to move in if I didn't love you.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?! You were making it sound like I was some gay hero that sewed the first pride flag! I don't even go to pride events, Evan! All the colors are far too bright and the glitter never leaves you.”

“Glitter is really annoying,” Eddie agreed.

Tommy pointed a crutch at him. “Thank you.”

“I was not trying to make you out to be some gay hero, Tommy! I was telling you that I was comfortable with you. I was telling you I wanted to spend all my time with you. I wanted us to be together!”

“You didn't even think it through, Evan!” Tommy motioned around the room. “I own a home. It comes with two bedrooms that have doors, a garage, a back yard, and two and a half bathrooms. You asked me to move into your loft.”

Eddie shook his head. “Oh, Buck.”

Buck's eyes shot over to him. “You're still here why?”

Eddie stood from his spot on the couch, grabbing his coat. “Yeah, I'm going. Later.”

They both stayed silent until they heard the door open and close.

Buck opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “This is our first fight, isn't it?”

Tommy nodded. “It is.”

“Took us long enough.”

Tommy managed a small smile. “Probably should have fought you that night, honestly.”

“I think I would have felt better if you did.”

“Me too.” Tommy took a deep breath. “I actually really do have to pee,” he said, shifting from one crutch to the other. “Can we pause this until I'm done?”

Buck nodded. “I'll be here.”

They didn't actually fight anymore after that. It was time for Tommy to take his meds, which made him tired, and Buck was tired himself from his shift. Tommy laid in bed, Buck snoring on the floor beside him, thinking it all over. All the things he still felt like he needed to say. The unfinished business they had between them.

The fight wasn't much, but it was something.

It was enough.

For now.

*****

“Are you sure you're good on your own?” Buck asked as Tommy limped behind him toward the door.

“I'm sure. I can successfully do everything on my own now with minimal to no pain.”

Buck turned back to him quickly, eyes wide. “But there's still pain?”

Tommy smiled. “I'm fine, Evan.”

Buck didn't look so sure. “Okay, I... Okay.” Instinctively, he moved forward to wrap Tommy in a hug. He stopped himself before he got too close, but Tommy responded by opening his arms.

Buck's posture relaxed as he gently wrapped his arms around Tommy, careful not to squeeze too tightly. "I was so worried about you," he whispered in the space between them.

"I know."

“You'll call the number I gave you?” he asked.

“I already did yesterday,” Tommy admitted. “When you went out to pick up dinner. My first session is next Monday.”

“Good. That's... That's good.”

“Thank you, Evan. For everything you've done for me. You didn't have to do that.”

Reluctantly, Buck pulled himself away from Tommy.

“Did you realize you've been calling me Evan since our fight a couple weeks ago?” he asked, lips upturning into a smile.

“Oh, um,” Tommy shifted on his feet, taking the pressure off his bad knee. “Sorry. Habit.”

“Don't be sorry. I hate when you call me Buck.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I'll always- I wanna be Evan, to you.”

Tommy nodded, staring into Evan's eyes. “Okay. That's. I'd like that too.”

Buck continued toward the door, stopping again as soon as his hand touched the handle. He looked back. “Hey, Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you think about texting me... hit send, okay?”

Tommy had never mentioned that before. But he'd caught Buck's near-texts to him too, so it didn't quite catch him off guard. “I'm kinda a mess, Evan. I'm not as comfortable as you think I am. I'm not... I'm still figuring things out.”

“That's okay. I am too. Text me anyway.”

“Even if I'm asking you out for a coffee? So we can talk? Really talk?”

“Date and time, I'll be there.” Buck smiled softly at him as he opened the door to leave. “I'll get your order right this time.”

[reddbuster]

I forget who made it but I saw a post the other day talking about how a lot of trans women come out much later in life than trans men tend to (and hence why “egg culture” tends to be mostly centred around transfemininity) and it really made me reflect on my experiences with queer spaces and how things have visibly changed as I got older. I’ve been pretty heavily involved in queer and especially trans spaces, both in-person and online, since I was a preteen. While spaces and events for people my age were much more sparse (and harder to attend while closeted) as a kid, they did exist. But one thing that always stuck out to me was the complete absence of trans girls even at events mainly aimed at trans youth. I met a good few other trans and gnc kids at these events, but all, literally every single one of these people were perisex and assigned female at birth. Not a single transfeminine person to be found. This changed as I got older. I started high school. Slowly but surely the circles I hung around in became more diverse. I met trans women. I met and befriended gay and gnc “boys” who would later come out as trans girls. Now, as a young adult, the ratio of transmasculine to transfeminine folks in my life is near equal. But even now, the demographic of trans girls in my life generally skews older than the guys. And of course this trend is very reflective of the effects of transmisogyny in general, how the media targets trans women as the scapegoat for their hatred, painting ‘trans girl’ as a shameful and deviant thing to be. It is reflective, more than anything, of how we all need to be more steadfast in our support of trans women both in our activism and in our day-to-day lives. But I also think that everyone needs to make more of an effort specifically to support young trans girls. Transfeminine kids, teenagers, even young adults. Because I have met so many women that I know for a fact would have enjoyed their teenage years so much more if someone, anyone had been there to tell them when they were young that it was alright to be trans. The first friend I ever lost to suicide as a teenager was a trans girl. And I live every day of my life with the knowledge that if I hadn’t been her one and only source of support, she probably still would have been here today. Believe me when I say that I understand the importance of respecting people’s boundaries. I do think that insisting every gnc person must be trans is a bad and counterproductive thing to do. But I’ve also seen firsthand what happens when trans girlhood is treated like it’s a downgrade, it’s very suggestion a taboo. When nobody is willing to be the one to say “hey, it’s okay if you want to be a girl”. I believe with everything I am that the life and happiness of a single trans girl is more than worth the discomfort of a million cis men. And if you disagree with that sentiment I think you either need to fix your heart, or you need to make peace with the fact that you are a thoroughly vile person and endeavour to shut your mouth about transgender issues forever.

[dissapointu]

Hello, I wanted to ask you a little drabble with all the arcane characters.

Like how they fell in love with reader ( like what captured their attention etc)

It would be pretty cool in my opinion.

Have a wonderful day\night.

Aaaugh, I made of made this a bit long-(really long, that was sarcasm) I'm splitting it into two portions

Jinx-

Jinx didn’t know what to make of you at first. You weren’t loud or flashy like the people she was used to dealing with. You weren’t trying to prove anything, and yet, there was something about you that screamed different.

She first noticed it when you didn’t flinch at one of her explosions—not the way most people did, anyway. The boom had rattled the room, shaking dust from the rafters, and yet, there you were, brushing soot from your shirt like it was just another Tuesday.

“Nice touch with the blue sparks,” you’d said, nodding at her latest contraption. “Adds flair.”

Flair? Most people would’ve called it destruction. Most people would’ve screamed or run. But you? You tilted your head, eyes bright, genuinely impressed, and for a moment, Jinx was at a loss for words.

It wasn’t just that you didn’t fear her; it was the way you saw her. You noticed the little things—the care she put into her work, the way she tinkered endlessly to perfect her machines. While others saw chaos, you saw art, and for someone like Jinx, that was everything.

The next time she saw you, it was intentional. She didn’t need to bring you a gadget she’d been working on—it wasn’t even finished—but she wanted to see how you’d react. Sure enough, you examined it like it was the most fascinating thing in the world, pointing out details she hadn’t realized anyone else would notice.

“This is genius,” you murmured, tracing a finger along a carved design she’d barely remembered adding. “You really think through every detail, don’t you?”

Her heart did something weird then, like skipping a beat but more… explosive.

From there, it snowballed. You became her favorite person to show her creations to, the only one she trusted to see her work before it was ready. You never judged, never laughed when something misfired—just smiled and asked how you could help.

And Jinx? She realized she’d fallen for you one day when she caught herself trying to impress you. The realization hit her like a grenade: she didn’t just want you to like her inventions—she wanted you to like her.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” she said one night, leaning against her workbench, tools scattered around her. Her voice was softer than usual, almost unsure. “Most people don’t get me, but… you do.”

You’d just smiled, that easy, genuine smile that had hooked her from the start. “That’s because you’re worth getting.”

And just like that, Jinx knew there was no going back.

Vi –

Vi wasn’t looking for anyone. She didn’t have time for soft moments, not with everything she had on her plate. But then you came along, and she couldn’t help but notice how you carried yourself—steady, calm, unshakable.

The first time she really noticed you, it wasn’t some grand, sweeping moment. It was quiet. You were helping some kids in the Lanes patch up a rickety swing they used to pass the time. Nothing fancy, just you, a coil of rope, and that determined look in your eyes.

She hadn’t meant to stop and watch, but something about you drew her in. Maybe it was the way you didn’t hesitate to get your hands dirty or how the kids laughed around you, their faces lighting up despite everything the Lanes threw at them.

“You’re good with them,” she said after working up the nerve to approach you, trying to sound casual.

You glanced up at her, wiping sweat from your brow, and gave her a smile that hit her like a sucker punch. “Someone’s gotta be. They deserve better than this, don’t you think?”

It wasn’t just your words that stuck with her—it was the way you said them. Like you meant it. Like you actually believed in something better, even when the world gave you every reason not to.

From then on, Vi found herself noticing you everywhere. The way you stepped up when others hesitated. The way you didn’t back down, even when things got messy. You had this quiet strength about you, the kind that didn’t demand attention but earned it anyway.

She started finding excuses to stick around—helping with repairs, walking the kids home, sparring with you in the courtyard when the opportunity came up. And each time, she found herself drawn to you a little more.

“You’re somethin’ else,” she admitted one night, sitting beside you on a crumbling wall, the city’s broken skyline stretching out before you.

You raised an eyebrow at her, clearly amused. “That so?”

“Yeah.” She rubbed the back of her neck, uncharacteristically shy. “Most people would’ve given up on this place a long time ago, but not you. You stick it out, no matter how hard it gets.”

You shrugged, your gaze softening as you looked at her. “Same could be said about you, Vi.”

That was the moment it hit her—like a punch she didn’t see coming. It wasn’t just admiration anymore. It was something deeper, something she couldn’t ignore.

She fell for you in pieces, each small moment stacking up until it all clicked. It wasn’t about grand gestures or dramatic confessions. It was the way you fit—like you were exactly what she didn’t know she was missing.

And when she finally worked up the courage to tell you, your answer came with that same steady smile that had captivated her from the start.

“Figured it out, huh?” you teased, and she rolled her eyes, though her grin gave her away.

Yeah, she figured it out. And she wasn’t letting you go.

Sevika-

Sevika didn’t believe in love. In the Lanes, it wasn’t something people had the luxury of chasing. Survival came first, and attachments were just liabilities waiting to stab you in the back.

But you were… different.

The first time she noticed you, it wasn’t because you were trying to catch her attention. You were too busy holding your own, stepping into a dispute between two gang members over stolen supplies. She’d leaned back in the corner of the Last Drop, watching the chaos unfold, ready to step in if things got messy.

But then you surprised her.

You didn’t raise your voice or threaten anyone. Instead, you stood tall, calm as you defused the tension with a few sharp words and an unflinching glare. You had this presence, like you weren’t afraid of anyone in the room—not even her.

“Bold move,” Sevika had said when you approached the bar afterward, ordering a drink like you hadn’t just stared down two brutes twice your size.

You glanced at her, your lips quirking into a small smirk. “Someone’s gotta keep things from falling apart.”

That was the moment she started paying attention. You didn’t just survive in the Lanes—you thrived. You didn’t let the weight of the place crush you like it did everyone else. And more than that, you cared. Not in some naive, starry-eyed way, but in a way that made you fight tooth and nail for the people who couldn’t fight for themselves.

It pissed her off at first. The way you carried yourself like you weren’t afraid of the darkness around you. She thought it was reckless, stupid even. But the more she watched, the more she realized it wasn’t recklessness. It was conviction.

You weren’t scared of getting your hands dirty, but you never lost sight of what mattered to you. That’s what got under her skin, what kept her coming back to the same barstool night after night, just to see what you’d do next.

She started finding reasons to stick around. Sometimes it was to share a drink, other times to offer backup when things got rough. You never asked for her help, but you didn’t push her away either, and that intrigued her more than she cared to admit.

One night, after a particularly close call with one of Silco’s rivals, you patched up a cut on her arm, your hands steady as you worked.

“You’re too damn stubborn for your own good,” she muttered, watching you through half-lidded eyes.

You chuckled, your touch gentle as you tied off the bandage. “Takes one to know one.”

It was such a simple moment, but it stayed with her. The way you looked at her—not like she was some feared enforcer, but like she was just… Sevika. It wasn’t something she was used to, and it scared her as much as it thrilled her.

Over time, she realized she was looking for you in every crowd, waiting for the nights you’d sit beside her and trade sharp banter over a drink. She fell for you quietly, begrudgingly, like it snuck up on her before she could stop it.

And when she finally admitted it—to herself, to you—it wasn’t some grand confession. It was a gruff, almost reluctant, “You mean more to me than you should.”

Your response? That same infuriating, endearing smirk. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”

Sevika huffed a laugh, shaking her head, but the truth was, she didn’t mind. Because for once, letting someone in didn’t feel like a weakness. It felt like strength.

Silco -

Silco had always been a man of control, ambition, and sharp edges. In the underbelly of Zaun, survival demanded nothing less. Trust was currency, and affection? A distraction. He had long since accepted that power was the only thing worth chasing.

But then you appeared.

You weren’t loud or showy, not one of those people clawing for his attention. No, you worked quietly, efficiently, in the background of the chaos he ruled. You were just another piece in his intricate machine at first—just another person serving a purpose.

What caught his attention first was your unyielding patience. Where others in the Lanes were frantic, desperate to prove their worth, you moved with a calm certainty, like you weren’t afraid of the storm around you. You fixed what was broken—tools, machines, even people—without asking for anything in return.

One night, you’d been tending to one of his injured men after a skirmish, your hands steady as you stitched him up in the dim light of the hideout. Silco watched from the shadows, curious. The man hissed in pain, and you responded with a soft laugh.

“Hold still, or I’ll sew you up crooked,” you teased, your tone warm but firm.

It wasn’t the words that struck him—it was the way you carried yourself. There was no fear in your voice, no need to prove yourself to anyone. You didn’t care about earning his favor or gaining power. You just… were.

For someone like Silco, who thrived on manipulation and control, it was unnerving. People were supposed to want something from him. But you? You treated him like a man, not a king.

It wasn’t long before he started seeking you out. At first, it was subtle. A lingering glance as he passed through the room, a quiet question about your work. You always answered him honestly, without flinching under his piercing gaze, and it left him unsettled in a way he couldn’t quite name.

One evening, after a particularly brutal day, he found you sitting by the docks, staring out at the toxic waters of Zaun. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly at the sight of you, though he didn’t understand why.

“You should be careful out here,” he said, his voice low as he stepped closer.

You glanced over your shoulder, smiling faintly. “And miss the chance to breathe? I think I’ll take my chances.”

It was such a simple thing, but it stayed with him. In a world that demanded constant vigilance, you allowed yourself to simply exist. It was a quiet defiance, one that intrigued him more than he cared to admit.

Over time, you became a constant presence in his life, slipping through the cracks of his carefully constructed walls. It wasn’t grand gestures or impassioned declarations that made him fall for you. It was the quiet moments—the way you never cowered under his gaze, the way you challenged him without hostility, the way you saw him for more than his scars.

One night, as the two of you shared a rare moment of silence in his office, he finally allowed himself to admit what he’d been feeling.

“You’re dangerous,” he said, his voice soft, almost amused.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair. “Dangerous? To you?”

He smirked, though there was no malice in it. “You’ve managed to do what no one else has.”

“And what’s that?”

“You’ve made me want something I didn’t think I needed.”

Your smile widened, warm and unguarded, and for once, Silco didn’t feel the need to look away.

In you, he found something unexpected: a quiet kind of strength, the kind that didn’t demand attention but commanded respect. And for a man who had spent his life fighting for control, letting himself fall for you felt like the ultimate rebellion.

Vander -

Vander wasn’t a man who fell in love easily. His life had been shaped by too much loss, too much responsibility. The people of the Lanes leaned on him, and he carried their weight with quiet strength. Love, to him, felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford.

But then, there was you.

It wasn’t some grand moment that captured his attention—it was the small, steady things. The way you moved through the chaos of the Last Drop, keeping the peace in your own quiet way. The way you never demanded his time but somehow always knew when he needed someone to sit beside him in silence.

What struck him first was your kindness—not the soft, fragile kind, but the sort that had edges. You didn’t let people walk over you, but you never hesitated to offer a hand to someone in need. In a place like Zaun, where survival often demanded selfishness, you were a rarity.

He noticed it one night when a brawl broke out in the bar. Two rowdy patrons had nearly overturned a table, and before Vander could step in, you were already there. You didn’t raise your voice or throw a punch. Instead, you placed a firm hand on one of their shoulders, your calm, measured tone cutting through the tension.

“Save it for the street, boys. We don’t spill blood where we share drinks.”

To his surprise, they listened. Vander couldn’t help but chuckle as they slunk off, muttering apologies.

“Got a way with people,” he said later, handing you a drink as thanks.

You shrugged, offering a small smile. “Just trying to keep things from falling apart.”

Those words stayed with him. It was how you carried yourself—like you were always holding the pieces together, not because you had to, but because you chose to.

Over time, he started finding excuses to be near you. A quick conversation here, a shared drink there. You had a way of making him feel… lighter. Like he could let go of the weight he carried, even if just for a moment.

It wasn’t until one quiet evening, after the bar had emptied, that he realized how deeply you’d settled into his heart. You were sitting on one of the tables, cleaning up a spill, humming a tune under your breath. The soft glow of the lanterns lit up your face, and for a moment, Vander just… watched.

“You’re staring,” you said, not looking up.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Caught me.”

You glanced at him then, your smile warm and teasing. “What’s on your mind, big guy?”

He hesitated, uncharacteristically unsure. But then, he decided to just say it—Vander was never one for dancing around the truth.

“You. The way you care about this place. The people. Me.” He exhaled, leaning against the bar. “Never thought I’d find someone like you in all this.”

Your eyes softened, and you set down the rag in your hands, crossing the room to stand in front of him. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased gently. “Took you long enough to notice me.”

He laughed then, a deep, rumbling sound that made your chest warm. “Oh, I noticed. Took me a bit longer to admit it.”

And when you reached up, resting a hand against his face, he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for just a moment. In you, he found something he hadn’t realized he needed—a steady flame in the chaos of the Lanes.

Ekko -

Ekko didn’t believe in distractions. The Firelights needed him, the Lanes needed him. His days were spent fixing the mess left behind by Piltover’s greed and Silco’s reign. He had no time for anything else—least of all love.

But you? You didn’t give him much of a choice.

It wasn’t a single moment that caught his attention. It was a collection of them, like the pieces of a clock coming together. He first noticed the way you moved—quick and deliberate, like you belonged to the rhythm of the chaos around you. No hesitation, no wasted motion. Whether you were patching up one of the Firelights after a mission or organizing supplies in the hideout, you carried yourself with a quiet confidence that made it impossible for him not to watch.

What hooked him, though, was your laughter. The first time he heard it, he froze. It had been after a particularly rough raid. Everyone was tense, the weight of the day pressing down on their shoulders. And then you cracked some joke—stupid, honestly, but something about the way you delivered it had everyone laughing, including Ekko.

That was when he realized it: you didn’t just survive the Lanes. You thrived in them. You brought light into a place where most people only saw shadows.

It started small—an extra second spent talking to you, a lingering glance when he thought you weren’t looking. He’d catch himself gravitating toward you without even meaning to, drawn to the way you lit up a room with just your presence.

But it wasn’t until one night, long after the others had gone to sleep, that he truly understood how deep you’d gotten under his skin. You were sitting by the glow of a makeshift lantern, tinkering with some piece of tech you’d salvaged. The light cast shadows across your face, highlighting the curve of your cheek, the focus in your eyes.

“Burning the midnight oil?” he asked, leaning against the doorway.

You glanced up, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Someone’s gotta keep this place running.”

He stepped closer, hands shoved into his pockets. “You do too much, you know that?”

“Says the guy who can barely take a break,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Fair point.” For a moment, he just stood there, watching you work. The quiet stretched between you, comfortable and warm.

“Why do you do it?” he asked suddenly.

You paused, looking up at him with a tilt of your head. “Do what?”

“Care so much. About all this.” He gestured vaguely, as if to encompass the entire hideout, the Firelights, the Lanes.

Your gaze softened, and you set the piece of tech aside. “Because someone has to. And because… I believe in you, Ekko.”

The sincerity in your voice hit him like a punch to the gut. You believed in him. In a world that seemed determined to tear him down, you stood beside him, unwavering.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, reaching out to take his hand. “Guess you’re stuck with me anyway.”

That was the moment Ekko fell. Completely, irreversibly.

Jayce -

Jayce had always been drawn to brilliance. Invention, ambition, ingenuity—they were the cornerstones of what he admired in others. And yet, none of it had ever prepared him for you.

The first time he saw you, it wasn’t in a polished Piltover workshop or a grand council meeting. It was in a small, crowded market on the edge of the Undercity, where the scent of oil and metal clung to the air. You stood at a stall, bartering for scraps and materials like your life depended on it—because, as he’d later learn, it did.

What caught his attention wasn’t just your resourcefulness or the sharp wit you wielded against the vendor. It was the way your eyes lit up when you held a seemingly useless part in your hands, already envisioning the endless possibilities it could unlock.

He didn’t even mean to approach you. His curiosity had a mind of its own. “What are you going to do with that?”

You turned, a little startled, but you didn’t back down from his inquisitive gaze. Instead, you held up the twisted hunk of metal like it was a crown jewel. “Turn it into something brilliant. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

It wasn’t arrogance—it was certainty. And Jayce, who had spent his life chasing impossible ideas, saw a kindred spirit in you.

From that moment, you became an enigma he couldn’t resist unraveling. Every conversation revealed new layers to your ingenuity, your resilience, your unshakable belief in making the impossible possible. And the more time he spent with you, the more he realized it wasn’t just your mind that captivated him—it was your heart.

You were unafraid to challenge him, to push him, to remind him that the world wasn’t just equations and theories but people and dreams. Your passion reignited something in him he hadn’t realized he’d lost: a love for the why, not just the how.

One evening, as the two of you sat side by side, tinkering with a device in his lab, he found himself watching you instead of the work. The way your hair caught the light, the quiet determination in your expression, the soft smile when something finally clicked into place.

“You’re staring,” you teased without looking up.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just—how do you make everything seem so effortless?”

You grinned, glancing at him with that spark he’d come to love. “It’s not effortless. I just don’t let the hard parts stop me.”

In that moment, he knew he was a goner.

Jayce Talis, the golden boy of Piltover, had fallen in love with you—not because of what you could build, but because of what you built in him: a renewed faith in the beauty of dreaming big, of chasing the spark no matter where it led.

And it apparently led to you.

Viktor-

Viktor didn’t notice you at first, not in the way others might have. He was too focused on his work, his mind consumed by blueprints and equations. But you… you were patient, always there in the background, asking questions no one else dared to ask, seeing things no one else cared to notice.

It was one of those late nights in the lab when you caught his attention. He was hunched over a schematic, frustration etched into every line of his face. You, seated quietly at the far end of the room, had been watching him—though you’d never admit it aloud.

“Did you eat today?” your voice broke through the silence.

Viktor didn’t even look up. “I’m fine,” he replied, a rote answer that wasn’t convincing in the slightest.

You set down your work and crossed the room, standing just out of his peripheral vision. “Fine isn’t food, Viktor.”

When he finally looked at you, there was something in your eyes that made him pause. It wasn’t pity or condescension—two things he’d grown accustomed to. It was understanding, genuine and unyielding, as if you knew exactly what it felt like to lose yourself in something bigger.

That was the first moment he realized you were different.

It wasn’t the last.

You had a way of grounding him, of pulling him out of his own head without judgment. Your presence was quiet but powerful, a steady force that didn’t demand his attention but earned it nonetheless.

What truly captured him, though, was your mind. You didn’t just accept the world as it was; you questioned it, challenged it, sought to understand it. You weren’t afraid to debate him, to push back when you thought he was wrong, and yet you did so with a respect that made him listen.

He found himself looking forward to your late-night conversations, the way you’d linger in the lab long after everyone else had gone home. You’d ask about his work—not just the mechanics but the why behind it, the hopes and fears he buried beneath his relentless drive.

One evening, as you sketched out a rough design on a scrap of paper, Viktor caught himself smiling. Not at the drawing, though it was clever, but at you. The way you bit your lip in concentration, the furrow of your brow, the quiet hum of satisfaction when you got something just right.

“You are remarkable,” he said softly, almost to himself.

You glanced up, surprised. “What?”

His cheeks flushed, and he looked away, fiddling with a wrench. “Nothing. Just… your ideas. They’re… innovative.”

But it wasn’t just your ideas. It was you—the way you saw the world, the way you saw him. Not as a man constrained by limitations but as someone capable of more.

You believed in him, not just in his work, and that was something Viktor hadn’t realized he craved until you offered it so freely.

And as the days turned into weeks, then months, he realized something else: He believed in you, too.

It wasn’t some grand epiphany or dramatic moment. It was in the quiet, shared glances, the lingering touches when you handed him a tool, the way his chest felt lighter when you were near. Somewhere in the midst of late nights and whispered dreams, Viktor had fallen in love.

Not just with your mind or your presence, but with the way you made him feel—seen, understood, whole.

And for a man who’d always fought against the odds, loving you felt like the greatest invention of all.

[meazalykov]

its never enough

barca femeni x platonic!alexia putellas x reader

summary: the team had to intervene after seeing the amount of things you own

warnings: overconsumption, financial issues, childhood trauma, angst

you’ve always been a fighter, y/n. 

growing up in a small, cramped apartment with not much more than a kitchen table and a flickering television, you learned early on how to make the most out of little. your world was filled with the sounds of exhaustion: the tired creaks of your mother’s joints as she came back from long shifts, the gentle rumbling of your stomach as you lay in bed at night wondering if tomorrow would bring a meal or just another day of uncertainty. 

when you were younger, you were happy because you didn't know better. there was no one to tell you that many other kids didn't go through the poverty that you had to go through.

there were nights when you would curl up under a thin blanket, feeling the hunger gnaw at your insides, wishing for just a slice of bread or orange juice to ease the ache.

your mother worked tirelessly, holding down two jobs and often coming home with her eyes clouded from exhaustion, but she always made sure you had at least one decent meal a day, even if that meant sacrificing her own. the smell of burnt rice or old beans became an ordinary experience, an echo of sacrifices made out of love. 

she sacrificed a lot, even if you started to resent her after seeing all of the rich kids at your school with no worries about when they're going to eat next.

you remember the days when you would sneak out to the local park, pretending that the kids from the academy didn’t have talking points that revolved around the latest gear or shiny new sneakers. you wore the same worn-out cleats for years that you found in a thrift store, and while those shoes may have drawn odd glances, they also pushed you to play harder, to train longer.

those white colored adidas cleats of yours slowly turned yellow and green overtime due to the grass stains. 

the first time you were signed to an academy, it was through scholarships. you took public transport (sometimes without paying) back and forth from home to the academy from 6am to 9pm.

that’s where it all began—out in the sun-kissed fields—the heartbeat of your journey. every dribble, every sprint, made you feel alive. the coaches quickly noticed your raw talent; your feet danced like a lyrical melody, weaving in and out of opponents with fairy-tale grace. 

they’d call you into training sessions meant for the older girls and suddenly, you found yourself in a world where your poverty didn’t define you.

many of the nice coaches offered to pick you up from your home in the poor neighborhoods outside of your city, knowing that they couldn't afford to not have you on the pitch.

those were the fabrics of the beautiful game that would one day pull you from those struggling days into a life of unimaginable opportunity.

your childhood academy, once you graduated high school, called you up to the senior team. the salary was small but it was enough to finally see breakfast, lunch, and dinner all in the same day instead of sacrificing one or the other. sometimes, you're lucky that you still have muscle and strength for someone who was not eating enough.

fast forward to after you turned nineteen, a year after your first senior team callup from your childhood club.. you were standing in the hallowed halls of barcelona, far away from home.

the weight of your dreams now intertwined with the club’s crest stitched delicately onto your new jersey. barcelona had been keeping an eye on you for years.

the contract you signed with the catalan team was something you could hardly comprehend—it felt surreal, almost like playing in a fantasy. the money you received dwarfed anything you had imagined during those starving nights as a child. suddenly, you had means far beyond what you had deemed possible.

the first time the signing bonus hit your account, you stared at the numbers blinking feverishly on your screen, unable to process it. the world opened up before you like a child’s storybook, each page filled with opportunity. and so, you rented a bright little apartment in the heart of barcelona, sunlight pouring through oversized windows, casting warm hues upon your brand-new life. 

it felt like a fresh canvas; you could paint it any color you desired. and paint it you did—perhaps too much.

at first, it felt liberating. a new superpuff jacket from aritiza? an absolute must. four different colors? obviously, because how could you choose just one jacket? each item in the store beckoned to you like love notes, whispering promises of happiness that you’d long been denied.

body washes in five different scents? a practical necessity because—how could you ever pick just one that felt right? you bought them all, bringing home bags filled with excitement and haste, giggling as you unwrapped each item in your sunny living room, often spilling the contents across your pristine floor in a flurry, and marveling at your newfound abundance.

having a space to yourself where the shelves were always stocked, the floors were always cleaned, and the heater actually working was something that gave you more peace than you expected.

sometimes, looking around your apartment often made you realize that the walls were suffocating under the weight of your possessions. clothes spilled from closets, shoes lined the hallway and your closets, and accessories filled every surface; a delightful chaos really, yet one that made your heart race with a strange sort of anxiety. 

you owned everything you ever wanted, but somehow, it still felt like a little too much.

your relationship with your teammates blossomed, particularly with alexia. she was a guiding light for you; her encouraging words sculpted you into a more confident player, and her laughter felt like a reminder that you were not alone in this world. 

she took you in after seeing how much potential you had for a twenty year old. the way you'd tackle world-class forwards like you had ten years of experience under your belt was something that caught the spanish woman off guard.

at barcelona, you gained the closest companion in your life, esmee, your best friend.

esmee visited your apartment frequently, often gaping at the sheer amount of items you owned, her eyes wide as she stepped over a particularly extravagant pair of heels that you probably haven’t worn once.

“y/n, do you really need all of this?” esmee asked playfully during one of her visits, standing at the entrance as if she were an unwitting tourist exploring a museum filled with ridiculous wonders.

“of course! look at this,” you laughed, sliding on a pair of trendy sunglasses you had bought just that week. 

“i could be a runway model with these prada ones.”

esmee chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief, careful not to trip over the plethora of colorful items sprawled about. 

the dutch places her jacket in her walk-in closet, hoping to not mix it up with all of your other ones. seriously, it looked like a whole family lived in your apartment instead of yourself.

“the fashion runway maybe, but i genuinely wonder how many outfits you have.”

as the months went on, whispers began to circulate amongst the team, drawing a bit of humorous attention. 

mapi once teasingly commented to alexia, “you know, i’ve never seen y/n in the same outfit twice. it’s like she has a new look every single day!”

alexia raised an eyebrow, thinking back to the countless intricate combinations you’d flaunted during practice and the matches that followed. 

“are you serious?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. 

“you think she actually has that many clothes?”

“esmee and i were talking,” mapi continued, her lips curling into a smirk, 

“and we noticed that y/n always has new shoes, new clothing, she's always walking by with a new fragrance scent—it's hard to keep track. i don’t get it.”

the curiosity started to whirl in alexia’s mind. she respected you immensely and admired your skills, but now she felt a tug towards something deeper. the urge to check in, to see if this was just youthful exuberance or something more. 

so, she decided to probe a bit further, casually nudging esmee one afternoon while both of them waited for practice to begin.

“does y/n have, like, spending habits?” alexia asked casually to esmee, pretending to tie her shoelaces, her expression deceptively nonchalant. 

“not that it’s any of my business– nevermind.. who am i kidding, it is because i need to watch out for her.”

esmee looked a bit uneasy, weighing her words carefully. 

“you know, she does get a lot of packages delivered to her apartment,” she admitted after a short pause. 

“it worries me a little. she’s got a lovely place, but, um, some of the things she buys are expensive—like that vintage prada jacket she flaunts all the time.”

alexia nodded, her mind racing at the thought. 

“okay, but how does she really feel about it? do you think she realizes it’s become…well, a problem?”

“i don’t want to start anything,” esmee replied quickly, clearly hesitant. 

“but…i’ve noticed some little things here and there.”

a few days passed. you found yourself bustling through your apartment, obsessively tidying up as you waited for a batch of brownies to finish baking. the sweet aroma was filling the air, comforting and familiar, hard to resist. 

you had always loved experimenting in the kitchen since having your own space. growing up, you had no idea what brownies were until your childhood academy threw an, "end of the season" party for getting top of the league. they were delicious, but you knew that your mother at the time only had enough to feed your rice, chicken, and pinto beans.

a knock broke your reverie. you wiped your hands on a dish towel and opened the door, revealing alexia dressed casually in a simple t-shirt and sweats, looking relaxed yet focused. she stepped in, offering you a warm smile.

“hey, y/n!"

"ale!!" you say, hugging her before leading her into your apartment.

"whats that smell? are those brownies?” ale asked, stepping over a pair of athletic shorts you’d carelessly discarded near your living room. 

“mind if I grab one?”

“sure! they’re almost ready!” you chirped, feeling a bit of giddiness wash over you.

as you neglected the untidy piles around you to shuffling around the kitchen, you could feel alexia’s gaze wander.

she noticed your open closet door by your front door, she didn't notice the amount of jackets and shoes you had stored in there when she first walked in.

alexia knew that you didn't have a roommate, you or esmee would've told her. all of those items belong to you.

the older woman turned to you, her expression turning serious. 

“y/n, listen,” she began slowly, 

“i wanted to talk about something.”

you froze for a moment, piecing together the gravity of her tone. the brownies, still cooling, were suddenly secondary to her serious demeanor. 

“what’s up?” you asked with a slight frown, putting the tray down on your kitchen island to focus on her.

“i’ve been meaning to bring this up,” she said, taking a deep breath. 

“i heard some things about your, uh, spending habits, y/n. i think it might be good for us to talk about it?”

you instinctively shook your head, the edges of denial creeping in. 

“my spending habits? what do you mean?” you asked, your voice suddenly edged with defensiveness. 

you hoped that your bedroom door was locked, you thought inside of your head. that would’ve gave away all of your issues that alexia is concerned about. 

“it’s not like i’m, you know, drowning in debt or anything.”

“i—I know that,” alexia kept her eyes locked with yours, her gaze gentle yet unyielding. 

“but y/n, it’s a lot. i want to make sure you’re okay. i mean, it’s easy to go a bit overboard when you’ve finally got the chance to buy things you’d never dreamed of.”

“what do you mean? it’s not overboard,” you insisted, crossing your arms. 

“i grew up fine, really, i am not–” 

“y/n, please don’t lie to make yourself feel better.” 

“alexia–i–i just…i like looking nice, and it’s not just about the clothes. it’s—you know, it makes me feel good.”

“trust me, i get that, really.” alexia's voice softened, understanding behind her words. 

“but don’t you think all of this,” alexia points to all of your shoes in the hallway leading to your bedroom. 

“could be something more? an underlying problem?”

your heart suddenly felt heavy. 

“underlying problem? what are you saying, alexia?” the defensiveness you felt turned to an urgent need to protect the parts of yourself that had been so fragile for so long—the parts that still whispered fears of never being able to escape your past.

“i know how you grew up,” alexia said gently, the weight of her words settling like a blanket between you. 

“almost everyone on the team knows, y/n. and it’s okay. we all love you but you don’t have to be afraid of going back there—I promise, you’re safe now.”

you shifted uncomfortably, grappling with the urge to retreat, but alexia’s words were like a balm, soothing your frayed edges. yet, discussing your financial problems felt almost impossible.

“it’s hard for me,” you finally admitted, almost a whisper. 

“i’m scared, okay? scared that i’ll get back to being that poor little girl who was always hungry ale…i don’t want to be that person again, even if it was years ago.”

alexia stepped closer, her eyes radiating kindness. 

“y/n, you don’t have to live in fear anymore. you can have the nice things you’ve always wanted, but maybe you should think about getting a financial advisor? someone who can help you save, invest, and still enjoy life? you really can have both.”

you pondered her words, the idea gently pulling at your heartstrings, unsure of how you could intertwine the idea of safety with spending. 

“i don’t want to give everything up,” you breathed. 

“i just…I don’t want to feel like i’m back there—not again.” 

“you won’t,” she assured you. 

“you have the power to change, and you did. you can still get nice things, you deserve that since you work hard on the pitch with us– but maybe focus on less quantity and more quality? your childhood doesn’t have to dictate your future, y/n. believe me. you can have the nice things you still want.”

you nodded slowly, feeling a sense of warmth envelop you. 

“maybe that’s true,” you whispered.

“you don’t need to hide your past either, y/n. many of us did not grow up with a lot of dinero either. aitana’s family suffered while she was growing up, same situation as you but you didn't have the politics involved.” alexia lightly smiled, hoping to see you less scared of the conversation. 

“oh,” you said, leaning your arms against the kitchen island across alexia sitting on your stool. 

“i am just saying that all of this stuff and the idea of buying it will only last temporarily. you do not want to spend so much money to the point where you’re broke. i have an idea on how much your salary is at barca and with adidas, its a lot and you should not blow through that much money in one month.” alexia and you giggled at her last sentence. 

“i know, and i’m sorry.” 

“don’t apologize to me, you didn’t do anything to me. i’ll set you up with the financial advisor i have and we will put you on the right track okay? maybe a therapist at barca too?” 

“anything you think will help me, capi.” you leaned against alexia for a hug. 

masterlist

[lady-griffin]

Jinx's Hallucinations + Ekko

Before Act III drops, I wanted to talk about an aspect of Timebomb that I'm quite fascinated by -

Ekko isn’t a trigger for Jinx’s hallucinations.

He has even stopped her hallucinations – not intentionally or anything, but more than once Ekko's presence seems to have a nullifying impact on Jinx.

Which is odd, right?

One would assume due to their history Ekko would be just as triggering to Jinx as anyone else, if not more so, and yet the opposite seems to be true.

In Jinx's first reunion with Vi, she quickly becomes overwhelmed and has an episode due to a whole combination of factors, but notably because her hallucinations of Mylo and Claggor start attacking her, largely because she's starting to breakdown and is getting overwhelmed (a self-perpetuating cycle).

Jinx can't even begin to calm herself down, in fact she yells at everyone to shut up, because she needs to think.

Then she hears Ekko’s hoverboard and suddenly the hallucinations are completely gone.

Jinx isn’t sure if what she heard was real or not.

Which is a great detail, since it indicates Jinx is aware that the voices she hears aren’t “real," meaning she knows other people can’t hear them too. So, it's rather telling (at least for me) that she asks Vi to confirm if she too heard the hoverboard sound.

It's also impressive Jinx was able to instantly recognize the sound of Ekko's hoverboard, despite her being in the midst of a mental breakdown and unable to think properly.

It’s almost like Jinx’s brain went into fight mode or something, because seemingly all the hallucinations stopped at once because there’s now a much bigger threat Jinx needs to be on guard for – Ekko is heading her way.

I really can't emphasize how much I love that.

While not traditionally romantic, in any sense, this shows the amount of respect Jinx has towards Ekko and the threat he poses to her. He’s someone she actually has to take seriously when fighting.

Which is a bit unique for Jinx.

Throughout S1 we saw Jinx being far more scared of her hallucinations then actual real, physical threats, but in this moment it’s like her brain recognized Ekko as being the far greater threat than her hallucinations.

Which he is - but that’s also true for many of the other things Jinx faces and isn’t scared of.

Jinx does “glitch out” while fighting Ekko and the Firelights in “When These Walls Come Tumbling Down,” - but it’s more of an asset than a problem, as she easily dodges the Gorilla Mask Firelight (at least I think it’s a gorilla).

Then when Ekko disappears, Jinx's psychoses come rushing back; obviously, this has less to do with Ekko himself and everything to do with him taking Vi, but nonetheless, it's still a slight repetition of the pattern that keeps happening between them.

In "The Boy Savior," during Jinx's bridge fight with Ekko, she once again specifically doesn't experience any hallucinations; even though she was just experiencing them not too long ago.

Mylo was this 'demon' on her back that while she could initially argue against, the more upset she became, the bigger his presence was.

She saw Caitlyn as this devil figure, laughing and mocking her and her psychoses even blocked Vi almost entirely from her sight; whether literally or symbolically, Jinx clearly wasn’t fully aware she was shooting at Vi, despite her obviously seeing Vi and then shooting in her direction.

Then Ekko bursts onto the scene and suddenly no more hallucinations. Which is just...

I honestly don’t know what this is. I really don’t.

To be clear, I absolutely love this whole thing despite not knowing what it is exactly, because honestly, I'm just fascinated by this dynamic, because for whatever reason, Jinx isn't triggered by Ekko nor does she hallucinate him.

In S2, Jinx’s hallucinations have significantly decreased, but in “Paint the Town Blue," she's suddenly bombarded with pretty much everyone’s voices because she’s beyond upset and panicking about Isha being taken by the enforcers.

She sees pretty much everyone - Silco, Vi, Mylo, Claggor, Sevika, and Isha.

Jinx seeing Vi, Sevika, and Isha shows us that she can/does hallucinate people who she knows are alive.

In addition, Isha being one of her hallucinations shows us that Jinx doesn’t need to have negative or even complicated feelings towards someone for them to become a part of her psychoses, as Jinx largely thinks/feels positively towards Isha.

Though it should be noted, the hallucination of Isha isn’t acting aggressive towards Jinx, not like the others are.

Finally, Ekko or Vander are the only two she doesn't hallucinate, but we know Jinx has hallucinated Vander in the past, making Ekko the odd one out when it comes to Jinx's hallucinations once again.

Which for the millionth is absolutely fascinating to me.

Because why?

Why doesn't Ekko trigger Jinx? Why isn't he one of her hallucinations? How come he's the only one we've seen having the ability to stop Jinx's hallucinations altogether (even if it's completely unintentional)?

For whatever reason, Jinx’s mind has seemingly categorized Ekko as being different than everyone else and while it’s obviously not this big thing the show brings your attention to, it’s also clearly there, albeit subtly.

And yeah...

I don’t really have much more to say, I just wanted to talk about this interesting aspect of Timebomb before we get to the last and final arc of Arcane.

[wandaslovey]

𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓉 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝓈 𝓈𝑜 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹?

➺ pastors!wife!wanda x fem!reader

wc ~ 3.8k

a/n: part 2 of my “when two wrongs make a right” series. it’s based around their first time meeting. fair warning my lovey’s - this part of the series may seem a little slow in the beginning. i really wanted to build a little background for both the reader and wanda. let me know what sort of things you’d like to see from these two cuties and i’ll try and incorporate them in the coming parts :)

*not proofread*

cw: mentions of an unspecified religion, religious homophobia as well as a bit of internalized homophobia, light undertones of infidelity/cheating, specified age gap (r=20, w=32), smoking cigarettes, reader being a bit of a stalker, wanda being a massive, shameless flirt and bold with a capital B.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ୨♡୧ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

it had been over a month since you moved with your parents to a small town in georgia. they said it was on account of a “fresh start” but you had a gut feeling it was really just because your mother wanted to officially separate your father from mrs. stacey—your old neighbor. your dad never came clean about his affair, but it didn’t matter because your mom wasn’t stupid. mrs. stacey and your father weren’t exactly good at keeping things secretive. whatever. you didn’t care. as far as you were concerned, neither of your parents truly cared about much, including their marriage and including you. they were obsessed with their image, wanting to be the perfect cookie cutter, church-going family. it was all about pretenses. it didn’t matter what was going on behind the mirror because the perfectly angled reflection was all people saw of them.

you had planned for things to be different for yourself once you moved here. for one thing, you didn’t want to be a “church-going girl” anymore. after all, everything that was said only made you have more questions. on top of that, you were supposedly a sinner on account of not being attracted to boys. why would you wanna be some place where people wouldn’t accept you if they knew?

your plans turned to squash when the first sunday you tried to tell your parents, it ended up being an enormous deal—your mom sobbing crying that you were trying to “sever your relationship with god.” you tried to console her for a few minutes, but the more you pushed not to go to the church service, the more upset the both of your parents became. to keep the peace and to quit hearing your mother’s nonsense, you bit the bullet and decided to go.

the whole way to the chapel, you planned in your head exactly what you would say the next time this conversation came up. you were 20 years old. you weren’t going to let your parents dictate whether you wanted to participate in religion or not.

as the three of you arrived to the church, you filed in with the rest of the congregation. you kept your head down, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself. it wasn’t until the pastor began his sermon and invited his wife onto the stand that the fake conversation going on with your parents in your head came to an abrupt stop.

holy sh— you thought to yourself.

you see her for the first time. mrs. maximoff. wanda. you’d learned her name once she’d announced it over the pulpit. she radiated an air of confidence and a surety in herself. you tried to commit every detail of her to memory. her southern accent, the way she spoke, her laugh, her hair, her eyes, her lips, her pretty figure, her well-manicured hands that you could see even from your spot down in the congregation..

from then on, you were infatuated with the pastors wife. there was something about her. something that went beyond her stunning outward appearance. you couldn’t put your finger on what it was, but you didn’t mind observing her for however long was necessary to figure it out. you had a penchant for observation after all.

•

five weeks had gone by, this sunday being the sixth time you get to obsess over wanda in person. your thoughts about the pastors wife had you feeling a little nervous, your tummy filling with butterflies as you think about her. technically, it was wrong to think of another woman this way—right? that’s what you’ve been told your whole life. and on top of that, she was married.

oh to hell with it. it’s not like anything would come of it.

as you stand in the mirror, fussing with your sunday dress, you can’t help but look over yourself once, twice, three times before you finally turn away from your own reflection. the longer you looked, the more flaws seemed to appear, so instead, you take a cigarette out of its hiding place—under the floorboards at the end of your bed—and begin your typical “smoking secretly out the window” ritual.

you needed something to help calm your nerves before you headed to church. especially because today they were doing something called a “linger longer” after the service. it was meant for people to take the opportunity to socialize and eat some finger food after being “spiritually fed.” you didn’t know what that meant, but all you cared about was getting more time to observe the beautiful mrs. maximoff. you very quickly noticed she was quite popular within the church community. she talked with everyone. she was always so spritely and positive—you wondered if it was as genuine as it seemed. not that you would know any time soon. you always left before she could make the rounds to talk to you.

you quickly put your cigarette out in the ash tray and stow it back in its hiding place before looking yourself over one more time and then heading to the church service.

•

wanda noticed you the very first sunday you sat in the pews. she never missed a new couple or family coming in to join their congregation. it was her duty as the pastors wife to get to know everyone. she didn’t mind it either. like a true extrovert, she thrived off of interacting with other people—so to say she was a tad disappointed when she noticed you duck out right after the service before she could introduce herself to you—was an understatement. she met your parents of course who seemed nice enough, but she wanted to meet the pretty girl whom she caught staring at her quite a few times.

every sunday from then on was much the same, she’d catch you staring at her off and on throughout the service. each time she couldn’t help but smirk to herself, wondering what you were thinking in that head of yours. she was instantly intrigued by your behavior and even more so intrigued by the draw she seemed to have to you. without meaning to, she started trying to draw a picture in her head of what type of woman you might be. you seemed reserved yet polite, sweet yet stubborn and bold yet sometimes bashful, especially when she caught you looking at her. you were deliciously difficult for her to figure out and that’s why this sunday, she had made up her mind she was going to pin you down at the linger longer.

•

today was the first time you listened to a sermon and wished it stretched on a little longer. mrs. maximoff was speaking, preaching about the importance of charity. you didn’t disagree with her of course, but it wasn’t so much what she was saying, it was how she said it. you quickly became partial with how she spoke. it was like her tone indicated that everything she said was factual and not up for debate. you admired that quality in her—her ability to speak so profoundly.

she wrapped up her speech and then took her place to sing in the choir for the closing song. your eyes remained on her the whole time. while you couldn’t exactly pick out her individual voice from the bunch, you were sure her singing was the best.

as people filed out of the chapel and out onto the vast lawn that surrounded the church building, you take a moment to admire your surroundings. georgia really was beautiful—very humid, but still beautiful. the lawn was littered with white folding chairs and circular tables with some pink, orange and yellow wildflowers as the center pieces. the colors contrasted beautifully against the long, overgrown green grass and the brilliant blue sky above.

you quickly made your way over to the long rectangle table with food. if there was one thing you learned from being an observant person, it’s that you looked less awkward not socializing if you had a small plate of food in your hand. it wasn’t that you were necessarily anti-social or hated interacting with others, you just didn’t like talking with people who were typically on their moral high-horses.

you exchange pleasantries with a small family who, like you, made a beeline for the food table. you don’t pay much attention to what you put on your flimsy paper plate; some sort of meat kabob, fresh fruit and boiled peanuts. you’d never had boiled peanuts before, but apparently it was one of the food staples of georgia.

turning away from the table, you scan the small groups of people and notice how a lot of them don’t even bother to take a seat at the tables. most people choose to stand in the more open part of the field and chat. you didn’t have to look through the herds of people for long before your eyes land on wanda. she had her head thrown back, laughing at something one of the ladies from the choir had said. her laughter carried through the light breeze that was currently blowing. the sound instantly became one of your favorites to hear.

god, what was wrong with you? you had never become so quickly obsessed with someone before. not even close. the closest thing you could think of was that massive crush you had on sally miller in the 9th grade. still.. that didn’t compare to this.

you begin walking through the cluster of tables, your eyes glancing from her to looking at where you’re walking and then back to her again.

the next 30 minutes was much the same. you briefly sat down at a table, but once more people came to sit with you, you quickly offered your seat up to the last member of a larger family so nobody had to be separated.

no matter where you sat, stood, or walked, your eyes never strayed far from wanda. that was until a kind, middle aged woman came over to talk with you. she was kind enough, asking questions about you and your parents. she seemed genuinely interested in your life, and for that you were happy to talk with her. you learned she had been married for 10 years and her and her husband had been trying for a baby for awhile now, but had run into so many complications. you sympathized with her, understanding that it must be very difficult for something you want so badly to be so painstaking to achieve.

it wasn’t until you exchanged farewells and she moved onto the next person to talk to, that you noticed wanda no longer stood where she was before. in fact, she wasn’t anywhere in the several crowds of people you skimmed through. did she leave? you squint your eyes, focusing in on any short blonde hair you could see in front of you from the place you stood.

“hi there.” you hear drawled out from behind you.

oh my god.

you slowly turn, your eyes falling on none other than mrs. maximoff. you quickly compose the brief surprise that passed over your face.

“mrs. maximoff.” you swallow and tuck some hair behind your ear, offering her a polite smile to mask the squinty expression you had before. had she realized you were looking for her? you hope not..

“oh please, calling me mrs. maximoff makes me feel so old! call me wanda.” she outstretches her arm to shake your hand which you take only after a moments hesitance.

“wanda,” you repeat, your smile growing as you feel her gently squeeze your hand before letting go.

“this is usually the part where you tell me your name, honey.” she smiles amusedly, already thoroughly enjoying this interaction.

“i’m… (y/n), (y/n) (y/l/n).”

“lovely to finally meet you, miss (y/n).” she appraises you, looking you up and down in your cute floral patterned dress. your stomach flutters as you notice her eyes lingering on your figure.

“i met your parents a few weeks ago, but i never got the chance to say hi to you. anyway, i’m real glad we’re finally getting to talk now.” her eyes subtly scan over your features, taking in your pretty eyes, cute nose and full pouty lips. she even noticed the light spackle of freckles across your cheeks and bridge of your nose. she wondered if those freckles were there year round or just for the summer.

“yeah, i um.. i’m not usually one for socializing.” you admit, clasping your hands together in front of you. one of your fingers fiddle with the ring on your left thumb, twisting it around.

“so, (y/n), i have a confession to make.” she blurts, the implication behind her pronouncement making your more on alert. she runs her hand through her perfectly kempt hair before resting it on her hip, trying to appear more casual—though this conversation was rapidly feeling less so.

“oh?” you ask curiously.

“well, it’s just that i’ve noticed you looking at me a fair amount on sunday’s—when i’m at the microphone, singing in the choir, sitting in the pews…but then you never come and talk to me. am i so frightenin’?”

your eyes widen in surprise. you knew you weren’t exactly subtle with your spared “glances,” but was it that obvious?

“what? no, no, no, it’s not that. not that at all. it’s just—well i..” the way she asks has you stumbling over your words. you never meant to offend her. it wasn’t that she was frightening, you just had no idea what to say to her.

she makes an attempt to mask her amusement but can’t help it with your stuttered response. a smile eventually breaks across her face and she chuckles lightly at your trying to explain, finding it endearing.

“oh, i’m just messing with you, sweet thing. no need to get all tongue tied.” her smile was amused and her eyes twinkle with playfulness as she reaches out to touch your shoulder. the action was meant to be placating, but it did nothing more than make you feel more flustered.

“tell me more about yourself.” she says it more as a command than a question, changing the subject and sparing you further embarrassment. you’re grateful for the change in tone regardless of its abruptness.

you shrug, unsure where to begin exactly, but you quickly found yourself wanting to tell this woman everything about you. “well, what would you like to know?”

“what does a cute thing like you get up to?what’re some of your hobbies?” her what appeared to be shameless flirting, surprised you. you mentally kick yourself, thinking she couldn’t possibly be flirting. it was probably just a southern thing they did here…

it was against “god’s plan” to have same sex relations of any kind. that included flirting, didn’t it? and she was married to the pastor for christ’s sake.

although.. at church you did notice that the two of them never seemed to be near to each other at all.. no. you were reading into things. this was just her being polite.

“umm, well, i guess i like to read? mostly fantasy. i’m kind of a closet nerd. i like doing things that are creative, so i’ve been teaching myself to paint and i also make string bracelets or anklets sometimes.. you know, it terms of creative things, um..” you trail off, your hand rubbing the back of your head as you draw a blank. why couldn’t you remember your own hobbies? you weren’t normally so easily flustered or stuttering over your words, but wanda’s confidence and boldness brought out a bashfulness in you that you didn’t even know existed.

she listens intently to your response, nodding encouragingly and she remains silent in your pause to find your words. she wanted to know you better and she could be as patient as was necessary.

“i also like to write.. poetry mostly. i don’t often sit down to do it, but i always enjoy when i do. um, i also love going on walks, listening to music… oh! i love rollercoasters. rollercoasters are probably one of my favorites things.” the longer you talked about what you enjoyed, the looser, less nervous you felt. wanda could see your soft shyness dissipating the more you shared. you light up in a way when you speak, your passion for your interests shining through with your facial expressions and hand movements.

“oh my—rollercoasters? you’re just a little adrenaline junkie, aren’t you?” she teases with a warm smile, her nose scrunching in the most adorable way.

“i wouldn’t go that far, but i do enjoy a good thrill,” you keep your tone light-hearted, mirroring her tone and her smile. her gentle teasing and close attention to you was beginning to make you feel light headed with giddiness.

“what about you, wanda? what do you like to do?” you take a step closer to her, your arm reaching across your chest to grab the other as you continue to feel at ease in her presence.

“anything, really. i like to change things up, keep life interesting. if there’s something new i want to partake in, i seldom hold back from trying it out.” her eyes shine with something you can’t quite put your finger on. you couldn’t help but feel there might be a double meaning to her words, but you could also just be reading into things again. hard to know for sure as you notice her eyes flick up and down your body for the second time since this conversation started.

the two of you continue talking for what only felt like minutes. you barely notice the other people around beginning to clean up food, tables and chairs. it wasn’t until most things had been cleared away that you realize just how long you’ve been standing here talking—nearly a half hour.

“well, i guess i should be letting you get back to the rest of your day,” she sighs, her shoulder raising and lowering with the action. you frown slightly, not wanting your time with her to come to an end. wanda notices of course because just like you were with her, she was paying an awful lot of attention to you.

“yeah.. yeah i guess so.” you nod in agreement, but feel anything but a desire to part from her in this moment.

“hey,” her hand reaches up and gently squeezes your shoulder, her hand lingering there. you feel your heart begin to beat faster, a warmth spreading in your chest.

“can you sing?” she asks randomly. you clear your throat, the sudden question taking you off guard.

“umm.. i’m sorry?” you ask stupidly.

“sing - can you sing?” she reiterates.

“well.. yeah a little, but w-“ she cuts you off.

“perfect! it’s settled then. you’ll join our choir!” her voice is cheery sounding, but the suggestion she made to join didn’t leave much room for discussion.

“i will?” you look at her in slight disbelief, though a smile was also tugging at the corner of your lips.

“mhmm, i don’t see why not. you want to spend more time with me, don’t you?” her boldness was astonishing. you couldn’t decide if you found it endearing, intimidating or sexy.. possibly a combo of the three. she had to be flirting. you finally decided.

“if i say yes, then..?” you trail off, neither confirming nor denying her claim.

“if you say yes then you’ll be nothin’ but honest, and you wanna be honest with me, don’t you (y/n)?” she raises her brows inquisitively, the hand that was still lingering at your upper arm squeezing again.

“that’s very bold of you to assume.” you challenge, your normal wit finally coming out to play. you couldn’t help it. her insistence on being so unabashed and teasing was rubbing off on you.

“well i have eyes, don’t i? believe it or not, i put ‘em to good use.” she drops her hand from your arm and crosses her arms over her chest.

“i noticed.” you purse your lips, your eyes dancing with playfulness as you hint at the fact you’ve caught her looking you up and down a couple times.

she smiles wide at your matching her energy, but she couldn’t help but want the upper hand back, no matter how much she was enjoying this new side of yourself.

“i won’t apologize for gawking at a pretty, young thing like you.” she smiles triumphantly when she notices your dignified posture slump slightly, the most delicate blush coloring your cheeks.

“you don’t have to apologize,” you say quietly, your words surprising you as you say them aloud instead of just in your mind. you look down and off to the side, wanting to hide the heat spreading across your cheeks.

“well we should both get goin’, but choir practice is every tuesday and thursday at 7pm. i wanna see you there, (y/n).” she reaches up presses her palm against your cheek so you’re looking at her again. she locks eyes with you with an edge of what appears to be sternness.

you nod slowly, captivating in her stare. she smiles, pleased and then drops her hand from your face.

“great, i’ll see you then, sweetheart.” she taps your nose affectionately, before turning on her heel and walking away. you watch her figure retreat to the parking lot, your head spinning a bit as your interaction played through your head.

•

as you arrive home late that afternoon, you can’t fight the smile that kept spreading across your face or the butterflies that never seemed to stop fluttering around in your stomach.

when you lay in bed at night to go to sleep, your conversation with wanda kept going through your head. you wondered what it all meant. she had to be flirting—but it was that very fact that had you confused. didn’t she herself subscribe to the belief that being gay was a sin? did she feel it was as wrong as the people in the church say it is? what would her husband think? what would he do if he found out about your conversation today?

the more you thought about it, the more unsettled you felt. before you could truly start to spiral though, you remember wanda’s smile and her contagious laughter. you think to yourself how good it felt to be with her, how warm you felt inside and how at ease she made you feel after a short while.

how could something something so bad, feel so good?

[timmydraker]

Thinking about Vampire Tim AU and him saving Bruce via turning.

None of the Drakes are actually Vampires, at least not permanently. It was a very strange instance that occurred out of pure chance and coincidence.

A pregnant Janet Drake in a foreign country having a run in with a starving vampire rouge that bite her just a few days before she gave birth.

Instead of the curse spreading to her, the labour of her child pushed and the spreading of lifeform spread to her baby as it was born. The child looked healthy, had no inhuman features, and they assumed her being so sick was simply the fact she was about to give birth.

Tim doesn’t realise what he is for a while purely because his parents are vegan and, until he was seven and had some beef from a classmates lunch, hadn’t had any blood enter his mouth.

Having to teach himself everything, Tim learned to manage both his hunger and abilities as quickly as he could. He studied history and mythos and did several test to figure out the limits to what he needed and could do.

He learnt that he could heal via blood, that he could go without air for days, and that his hearing was normal though his sense of smell was enough to distinguish blood types.

He learn that he could go two weeks without blood before it became a problem, but if he pushed it past three weeks he would start to experience literally decay.

Tim disconcerted his saving grace was that the hunger wasn’t as uncontrollable as people made it out to be in movies and books. At most, it was just like normal human hunger or thirst, and he was aware there was a huge variable in him being raised rather poorly.

He keeps it hidden for years, but then when he’s nineteen Bruce dies.

Not Batman, Bruce.

They got in a car crash of all things, the other drive running after they drove them off the road on the extremely rare instance that Alfred wasn’t driving.

Tim watched the tree branch in his foster father’s chest for several minutes as he thought about his options. Bruce was dead upon impact, gone with only the last wisps of life hanging to him.

Bruce was a father.

Batman was needed.

Even though it would out what he was, Tim forced his several sharp teeth out, all needle sharp and long enough his jaw had to unhinge slightly, and bit into his own wrist. The fangs, an inch long each, dug into his skin painfully before moving to dig into each of Bruce’s wrist and then finally his neck.

Tim smeared the blood into all three wounds and then squeezed as much as he could into Bruce’s mouth.

He had no idea how he knew what to do, trusting the instinct the curse seemed to just… give him.

When Bruce begins to breath again, Clark finally shows up. It’s been a total of eleven minutes and Tim only realises that the other took so long because he had been off planet, yet he is grateful because if he had been there…

Tim instructs Clark on how to cover up the scene, removing the cars and getting Bruce to the cave.

Dick is freaking out, worrying over his brothers ripped clothes and Bruce’s clear injuries, but Tim is quiet.

He takes Bruce’s medical cot and leads them both into a containment cell and then seals it, implementing his own lock as well as one of Bruce’s so no one can open it. He can hear someone banging on the glass a few times but he ignores it to stand over his father’s side and wait for him to wake up.

Naturally, when the older man does he’s panicked and screening Tim’s name.

Tim smiles at him sadly before taking hold of his hand, which Bruce immediately process as wrong.

“Why aren’t I dead?”

Smile growing sadder before fading to an almost formal look, Tim squeezed his hand before pulling away.

“I know you’ve had your suspicions and I thank you for trusting me regardless, but you are right. I’m not human Bruce, and now… you aren’t either.”

He lets the worlds settle for just a moment before continuing, knowing the other will want all the information he can. They’re both so similar in that way.

“I was born a vampire, I will always be a vampire. I will explain that all to you soon, but what you need to know is this: you do not need to drink human blood, you will not loose control over your thirst if you allow me to train you, and yes I had no choice. Gotham needs Batman and I-… I need my father. I will not apologise for my selfishness, but I am sorry you have to be like me.”

Bruce is quiet but he doesn’t move to kick Tim out, nor does he shout at him or cry in betrayal.

He’s surprised, but not more than Tim had ever seen before.

It’s almost an hour of silence between them before Bruce speaks again, “You… you are actually nineteen?”

Tim scoffs and Bruce glares, which makes Tim smile more, “I am. My body will age until around twenty five, at least that’s my hypothesis. If you are turned you stay the age you were, but I was born.”

Bruce nods and after a moment reaches out for his son’s hand.

Another silence before he squeezes it, “Have you told the others about… this change?”

Tim winces, “I tried to keep us separated because I knew you would worry for hurting someone, but I knew Damian would break in if he couldn’t listen so…”

“Ah. Understood.”

Then, in another rare instance that Tim thought he wouldn’t see for at least another few years, Bruce opens his arms to him for a hug.

Naturally, Tim crumbles into his father’s arms and sobs louder than a war drum.

Bruce kisses his head and holds him tight, a vampire embrace.

[littlelamy]

Reader request with Rafe. Maybe she breaks down sobbing in the middle of sex and he has no idea why, thinking he hurt her. Her reasons aren’t bad. As someone that has only been with one person personally, and he was such a selfish uncaring lover, I legit think I would start sobbing in bed if someone was loving and caring towards me and treating me like the most precious thing. Love your writing <3

a/n: thank you so much for requesting...hope you like it!!⭐️

the room was drenched in golden light, the low hum of the bedside lamp the only sound as rafe’s hands roamed your body. his palms were warm against your skin, calloused but soft in their touch, tracing a path down your sides like he was discovering you for the first time. his lips followed, pressing kisses that started at your neck and trailed lower, his breath hot and deliberate.

“you okay?” he murmured, the deep rasp of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. his fingers hooked under the hem of your shirt, brushing the bare skin of your stomach as he paused to look at you.

your lips parted, and though you nodded, the tightness in your throat betrayed you. “yeah,” you whispered. “i’m okay.”

rafe studied your face, his brow furrowing slightly before he leaned down to kiss you again. it wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate, but slow, sensual, the kind of kiss that set your skin alight. his tongue slid against yours, coaxing a soft moan from your lips as his hand moved lower, slipping between your legs.

“god, you’re so wet for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with awe and desire. his fingers stroked you gently, building heat that spread through your entire body, but there was nothing hurried about the way he moved. "my baby, so perfect." he almost purred, everything about him was deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second of this—every second of you.

you arched into his touch, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders as he pressed his body closer to yours. his hips rocked against you, his movements careful but firm, and the pressure sent sparks of pleasure through your veins.

but that was the moment it all became too much.

your chest tightened, your breath hitching as the weight of everything crashed down at once. the tenderness, the patience, the care—it was everything you’d never known, everything you thought you didn’t deserve. and suddenly, the tears came.

a sob tore from your throat, raw and unbidden, cutting through the heated silence like a knife.

rafe froze instantly, his body going rigid above you as his eyes snapped to your face. “y/n?” his voice was sharp with concern, his hands pulling back like he was afraid he’d hurt you. “what—did i—did i hurt you?”

you shook your head, tears spilling freely now as you pressed a trembling hand to your face. “no,” you managed, your voice cracking. “no, you didn’t hurt me. i’m sorry, i—”

“hey, hey,” he interrupted, his hands hovering near your arms but not quite touching. his voice softened, though there was still a note of panic in it. “don’t apologize. just tell me what’s wrong. did i do something? did i push too far?”

you shook your head again, harder this time, your tears soaking into the pillow beneath you. “no, rafe. it’s not you. it’s… it’s me.”

his brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face as he searched your eyes for answers. “what do you mean? you’re crying, baby. i don’t know what to do.”

the raw vulnerability in his voice broke something inside you. you forced yourself to take a shaky breath, your hands trembling as you reached up to touch his face. “i’m crying because you’re too good to me,” you admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush.

rafe blinked, clearly caught off guard. “what?”

“you’re too good to me,” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’ve only ever been with one person before, and he… he didn’t care about me. not really. it was always about him—what he wanted, what he could take. i got used to that, and now… now you’re here, and you’re so kind and patient, and i don’t know how to handle it.”

his expression shifted then, his confusion melting into something softer, though there was an edge of anger in his jaw—anger directed not at you but at the person who had made you feel this way.

“y/n,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “that guy? he didn’t deserve you. not for a second. and i don’t care how long it takes, i’ll spend every moment proving to you that you’re worth everything. do you hear me?”

tears spilled down your cheeks again, but this time they weren’t born of pain. his words wrapped around you like a balm, soothing wounds you hadn’t realized were still bleeding.

“i don’t want to scare you off,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“scare me off?” rafe repeated, his tone incredulous. he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “y/n, you couldn’t scare me off if you tried. i just… i want you to feel safe with me. always.”

“i do,” you said quickly, your voice breaking with urgency. “i do feel safe. that’s why i’m crying, rafe. because i’ve never felt this before. no one’s ever… treated me like this before.”

his lips pressed to your forehead, lingering there as he exhaled deeply. “then we’ll go slow,” he murmured against your skin. “as slow as you need. or we can stop altogether. whatever you want, baby.”

“no,” you said firmly, your hands curling around his wrists to keep him close. “i don’t want to stop. i just… needed to tell you. needed you to know why i’m like this.”

his eyes searched yours for a long moment before he nodded, his lips curving into the softest smile. “okay,” he said simply. “but promise me, if you ever need to stop, you’ll tell me. no matter what.”

“i promise,” you whispered, your voice steadier now.

he kissed you again, but this time it was different. there was still care in the way his lips moved against yours, but now there was something deeper, something hungrier. his hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him as his hips rolled forward, the friction sending a gasp spilling from your lips.

“you feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his breath warm against your neck as he pressed wet kisses to your skin. his body moved against yours in slow, deliberate thrusts, his hands roaming your body like he couldn’t get enough.

and this time, you let yourself feel it. you let yourself drown in the way he touched you, the way he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world. because for the first time in a long time, you believed that maybe—just maybe—you were.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[kkayyerr]

Problem.

Summary: Pogues abandoning little!reader after she did an awful mistake. Rafe is here to show her that she’s not alone.

Warnings: Age regression, angst, slight fluff in the end.

Words counter: 1,3 k

Author’s note: I used scene from the „Arcane” as the reference for this fic!!🫶🏻

Pogues had never shown their disappointment in you or even told you that they weren’t pleased with your actions. They never showed you any signs of anger, especially not when you were in the little space. No matter how bad your mistakes were, they would just try to ensure you that everything is alright. They didn’t want you to know how hard it is to clean up your mess. And you couldn’t even think of anything about them being tired of you. 

After all, every mistake can be fixed, right? 

Tonight you found out that you were actually wrong, and there are some mistakes that unfortunately can’t be fixed, not at all. 

 

„Stay here, kid.”

 

JJ said to you an hour ago, as they were getting ready to go on another fight with some people that they had introduced to you as the „bad guys." You wanted to help them, but since you were regressed, they came up with the decision that it would be better for you to just stay inside the truck while they would be dealing with all of that. You agreed, just so they wouldn’t have to worry about you while fighting, and then you watched them leave. 

 

„Good wuck…”

 

You whispered, but it seemed like nobody had heard you since they haven’t replayed, just closing the truck’s doors. Since they left, you became so much more anxious. 

What if they would get hurt? 

What if they would get killed?

What if, what if, what if...

You just couldn’t help yourself, but finding that small gun that was laying on the driver’s seat was very interesting. What if that small thing would help you get your friends out of trouble? You knew that you shouldn’t have touched the weapons, but you also knew that you wouldn’t let your friends get themselves in trouble. 

Slowly you got off the truck and immediately saw them, staying there, just a few miles away from you. And there were also those bad guys, threatening your friends. Your heart ached seeing them in fear, so you approached them and shot.

A couple of times. 

You obviously didn’t see how one of the bullets came through the JJ’s shoulder, and you also didn’t see that you almost shot Kiara right in the head. When the gun's magazine finally got empty, you opened your eyes, letting a weapon fall from your hands to the ground. Pogues were looking at you, and there was something on their faces that you had never seen before. It took a moment for you to understand that they were disappointed in you and also scared of what you just did. Everyone heads to the truck, letting JJ deal with you. They just didn’t know what to say, and they were obviously afraid of your reaction to their harsh words. 

JJ wasn’t even looking at you; he was looking through you, as if you were something that he was finally ready to leave behind. You felt how your eyes felt with tears just from the amount of guilt that you were feeling right now. You opened your mouth, but before you could start to speak, JJ just shook his head. 

 

„No. We’re done.”

 

He said, and his words made your knees weaker. He had never talked to you in such a cold manner, especially not when you were regressed. It seemed like you actually crossed the line trying to help them.

 

„They were right, you are a problem, and I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to deal with you anymore.”

 

His words were painful, but the sudden feeling of your knees hitting the hard ground brought even more pain, finally making you cry. Your cries were silent at first, but as soon as JJ had left your sight, silent sniffles turned into loud sobbing. 

 

„Pwease, don’t go.”

 

You hugged your bloody knees, whispering some sort of pleading out loud, even though you knew that nobody would hear you. Or at least you thought so. 

Rafe Cameron saw your small trembling figure, and he was intrigued. Something about that scene reminds him of himself when he was a child, left alone and crying for nobody to hear him. Rafe shook his head to get rid of that image. 

Why would Pogues leave someone behind? 

He almost felt bad, hearing your sobbing as he approached you. Your hair wet from the rain and your face puffy from all the tears. You probably needed someone to console you, or at least someone who would be there for you, right? And you would most probably do whatever it takes to not be abandoned again. 

 

„Why are you here alone, little one?”

 

He asked, crouching down in front of you, waiting for you to answer his question. You rubbed your eyes in a childish manner, trying to focus your gaze on the man. He wasn’t looking like he was planning to hurt you, and even if he would, it wouldn’t hurt as much as getting abandoned by a Pogues did. 

You looked at him for another second, and then you jumped on him, hugging him tightly with your little arms. Both of you were lying on the ground now, but he didn’t seem to protest. He didn’t hug you back, though, not yet. 

 

„They left me, Pogues left me.”

 

You whispered, trying not to start sobbing again. His eyes widened, as he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. How could they call themselves a family when they’re leaving their people behind? The thoughts of getting left were hurting your little heart so bad that you almost screamed but felt two strong arms picking you up from the ground just in time. You didn’t know who that man was, but the need in someone’s care right now made you desperate enough to accept his attention. You hugged his neck with your hands, hiding your face there as he was trying to calm you down. 

 

„I’m lonely”

 

Rafe chuckled at your pitiful voice, hugging you tighter. He wasn’t the big fan of hugs, but he knew that you needed that right now. He also knew that you were way too tired now to give him any information about yourself or at least explain what happened previously, but he also knew that you wouldn’t say „no” if he would offer you to go with him. 

 

„You won’t be lonely for too long, little one.”

 

His words were gentle; he didn’t want you to get scared or overwhelmed. He could tell that you were close enough to yet another tantrum just because of the stress that you had experienced from getting left alone. 

 

„I’m Rafe Cameron, can we be friends?”

 

You nodded, wanting at least someone to be around. You couldn’t stay alone, especially when you were regressed. He smirked at your response, knowing that he doesn’t want to be your friend. He wants to be your everything, and somehow you didn’t seem very against it.

 

„From that moment you will never be left alone again, baby.”

 

You looked at him with a small suspicion. It was hard for you to believe that someone might actually want to deal with you, and not leaving you behind when you would became too much. Rafe extended his pinky, his big hand approaching yours.

 

„Pinky pwomise?”

 

Your eyes widened, and your face turned more bright. For you, a pinky promise was something more meaningful than a signed contract or a proposal ring. You slowly connected your pinky with his, smiling happily. 

 

„Pinky promise.”

 

He reassured you, giving you a gentle kiss on the nose, making you smile once again. After he saw that smile, he knew he wouldn’t ever let anyone make you cry. 

Taglist: @marvelfanfics1 @aew-regression-cove @rafecameronsloverrrrr

[vampiresbloodx]

Devour me whole.

pairings: vi x reader

warnings: smut, masturbation, service top!vi, switch!reader, angst with feelings, friends with benefits, overstimulation, sex toy use, strap on, teasing, gender neutral!reader, yearning

You were pissed. 

It was past three am and Vi promised this time to be home at least at twelve the latest, but no. Three hours have gone by quicker than you'd liked as you sit on her bed waiting for her, you realise there’s no point anymore. 

You should have left ages ago, you don’t know why you do this to yourself, waiting around for someone who doesn’t think about you unless she’s inside of you. You were just a quick fun for her, for anyone really, for a while you didn’t mind, you enjoyed it, the attention, the looks, how they loved your body, the people you’ve slept with and none of them have quite been like Vi. 

It was a one night stand how you met her, it was the best fuck that you’ve ever had in so long, you have experienced both men and women and you’d definitely pick women now more than ever. 

Vi was perfect, she’d always listen to you, even after you two fucked, take care of you if she was being a bit rough, you were always good with the whole no strings attached thing, yet here you were caught in a web of your own lies that you created. You don’t want to leave her place but you should, you don’t want to make things worse if she was in a bad mood, you know she’s been winning at the pit fights she’s been going to nonstop as of late. She's a good fighter and really skilled with her hands. 

God you missed her so much. 

You missed how she touched you, how gentle yet strong she feels, her hand wrapping around your throat, touching you slowly to torment you, teasing you constantly, knowing how bad you need it. 

“Fuck it” you muttered, beginning to strip on Vi’s bed, taking off your shirt and sweats, you went to grab a box underneath her bed where she hides all the toys she uses, and you grab her personal favourite she likes to use on you, her pink long dildo, the amount of times she’s made you cum on that thing. 

With how worked up you already felt, you didn’t even need to know just how wet you are, you laid back down onto her blanket, the smell of her scent lingering in her room overwhelms you. Easy enough, you were able to slip the dildo inside your pussy, starting to pump in and out, you moaned, your other free hand groping your tits the way she would. Your pace became faster the more you thought of her and what she’d do to you, you’ve always wanted to be caught by her, seeing the surprise in her eyes to see her good girl disobeying her in her own room. 

And then the door swung open. 

You were so fucking close, the pleasure building up more and more, your chest heaving, god you must have looked pathetic. 

Vi stood at the end of the bed, watching you, she was caught off guard by this, but she knew you were most likely annoyed with her as she was late tonight, later than she promised. She felt bad, she was going to make it up to you because she cares about you, she really does. 

She hasn’t told you how she feels about you yet. 

You gasped when you saw her standing above you, in her black leather jacket and ripped jeans with chains hanging off of them, how good she looks, makes you more wet. 

“Don’t stop,” she murmurs, her voice sending a chill down your spine as you feel her hands on your knees, forcing your legs to stay open, her eyes never leaving yours. “Show me how much this pussy needs me.” 

You whined, pushing the strap deeper as deep as you can go, your back arching from the bed, you whimpered, your moans becoming louder as you fuck yourself harder. 

It was only when you were reaching the breaking point, vi’s hands wrapped around yours, taking it out that easily, your juices covered in it as you whimpered, watching her lick it clean. 

She throws it over the bed and leans down, a single lick to your cunt causes you to break almost immediately, your body reacts before you could even think. 

“Please” you begged, your eyes meeting her stare, her gaze filled with lust and want. “Please, vi.”

She grins, enjoying this way too much as you are too. She's focused on you now, that's all you've wanted, all her attention on you and only you. She places her hands on your thighs, gripping them as she licks up your pussy, devouring you whole. 

She makes you cum over and over, till your shedding tears, your cheeks wet, your body exhausted, fucked out, and she's taking her sweet time pleasuring you, that's all she wanted to do, make you feel good, make you hers. 

She never wanted to get rid of the taste of you. 

Ever.

[felassan]

David Gaider on Morrigan, under a cut for length:

"Morrigan began, waaaay back, as a bit of Morgan le Fey (hence the Dark Ritual) mixed with Delirium from Sandman. The Delirium elements subsided into more of a weird cadence of speech as my idea of Morrigan solidified - more cynical, wanting to connect but unable to. Originally, we were looking for a Middle Eastern actress to play her, as Shoreh Aghdashloo was slated to play Flemeth and we wanted a similar sounding voice -- but it was a real struggle, and then Shoreh unfortunately had to drop out to do a movie. So suddenly we had nobody for either character! Then, one day, Caroline (our VO Director) comes in with a recording sent by a rep for Claudia Black - who hadn't done game VO back then but wanted to get into it. And it was Claudia doing a slow *beat poet* rendition of Baby Got Back. I kid you not. I was already a fan, so I lost my goddamn mind. (Yes, I still have the recording. No, you cannot have it.) Naturally, we jumped on that immediately. As I recall, this was met with resistance from higher up - they had this image of Morrigan as young, like 18 years old (no idea where this came from) and complained that Claudia sounded "too old". Them: "She sounds like she smokes three packs a day!" Me: "That's what I like about her!" Caroline and I were determined, so we pushed ahead. We had to agree to get Claudia to sound "younger", which I was dubious about. The first two sessions we asked her to pitch her voice up and it was AWFUL. Claudia had to focus on sounding "right" instead of acting. So Caroline and I did the sneaky thing, and on the third session we asked her to just... act. Use her natural voice. We loved her performance so much we had the feeling that the team would love it too and forget their nonsense. They did. My best memory of Claudia was when we first met. I'd been flown down to LA for the initial sessions to help the major DAO actors find the character "voice" and, boy, was I nervous. It didn't help that I was a huge fanboy of Claudia's and she was going to be the *first* of all the actors I'd talk to. Caroline gave me a list of rules for "how to talk to a celebrity" - top of the list: DO NOT COMPARE THEM TO OTHER ACTORS. So I meet Claudia, and I'm sweating. I think: I'll start from the beginning, right? "Well, when I started writing Morrigan, the voice in my head was Helena Bonham Carter..." Claudia gives me a look and tilts her head. "So what you're saying is... I'm a very cheap version of Helena Bonham Carter." I'm mortified. I melt. I gasp and stutter and she lets me implode for maybe 30 seconds before she throws her head back and LAUGHS. So wicked. I love her instantly and forever. For the next several days, whenever she's in the booth and I make a comment to Caroline - which she can't hear, because the booth is sound-proof - she'd say "Oh, does he want it more like Helena?" And I'd melt into the desk in renewed mortification and she'd LAUGH. This is Claudia in a nutshell. Morrigan became a real touchstone for me, the heart of DAO. Way beyond her initial inspirations. Some said "she's just an ice queen" like some I'd written (Viconia, Bastila, etc.) but such categories are very reductive, I find. She had a voice I could instantly slip into, every time, without fail. The problem, after DAO was said and done, was with how we were going to honour the Dark Ritual going forward... or, more to the point, how we *weren't* going to honour it. I wasn't willing to let her go, however, so I had to figure it out. BUT... that's a story for another day. CORRECTION: A friend reminds me that the beat poet recording Claudia did was "Smack That" and NOT "Baby Got Back", and now I need to go give it another listen just because I can."

[source thread]

David Gaider: "Actually, when Shoreh's movie wrapped she came back and asked if the role was still available - her grandkids were VERY excited for her to be in a game. It wasn't, but as I recall Caroline was all "well, we have this role in ANOTHER game we're making..." Hence why she ended up in ME2." [source]

David Gaider: "Tali's accent was purely created by the actress - which made it a bit of an Issue when the time came to have more Quarians in ME2. "Do we get the actors to all try and mimic... whatever she's doing?" I'm certain Caroline could write a book about how THAT all went down." [source]

User: "I also never knew that Delerium was part of the inspiration for her (atleast in the beginning)." David Gaider: "It'd be difficult to see that now. The very first drafts were a lot more eccentric - more like Flemeth, I'd say, but times ten. The feedback I got was that she's a bit too LALALULU and I had to agree (and my idea of her was changing anyhow). So that slowly got weeded out." [source]

User: "What had you seen Claudia in that made you such a big fan already? (was it pitch black?)" David Gaider: "Originally? Farscape. Then Pitch Black, yes. I tried watching Stargate just for her, but coming in so late I kinda bounced off it." [source]

User: "My only complaint is, and has always been, why is she the straight romance when everything about her screams lesbian?" David Gaider: "I would have written it, if it’d been allowed (remember this was VERY new back then), but after all was said and done I’m kind of glad I didn’t. The friendship path I wrote for Morrigan with a female Warden is perhaps my favourite but of writing I did from back then." [source]

User: "Morrigant to me was such a fantastic character because of the way she sounded! Her introduction in DAO is iconic to me "Well, Well, what have we here?"" David Gaider: "You have NO IDEA how many takes that took. 😳" [source]

User: "Claudia Black did an amazing job with every line in every game." David Gaider: "She absolutely did. It took some time for her to get her bearings, but by the end of our first few sessions I actually went back and re-wrote a bunch of lines to match Claudia's voice. She informed so much of who Morrigan became." [source]

User: "are YOU the reason we see so much morrigan after dao? (positively, she is one of my all time favourite characters)" David Gaider: "Yes and no. She was always considered, by both me and the team, to be a "face" of Dragon Age. I'd have put her in DA2 if there'd been room, but thankfully that limitation is what allowed Flemeth to grow into her own." [source]

User: "were Morrigan and Flemeth always supposed to be Chasind, and/or did the Chasind have any ties to northern Thedas in earlier drafts of the character? The Chasind are universally depicted with dark skin except for Morrigan and Flemeth." David Gaider: "I don't think we had a very clear idea of the Chasind in general back then - they kind of got abandoned as a concept once we cut the Human Barbarian origin for DAO, and were only picked up again later." [source]

[demonpiratehuntress]

clowns

taglist - @kabloswrld

OPLA!Zoro x F!Reader

summary - clowns are terrifying, and your first encounter with one leaves you traumatised. lucky for you, you have a big strong swordsman as a boyfriend.

warnings - CLOWNS (yes they should ALWAYS be a warning and yes Buggy scares me), you and Zoro are/were both pirate hunters

a/n - i count myself lucky i don't have circuses where i live, because if i ever see a clown i will run the other way

Not only did you not expect to join a pirate crew, but you far from thought your first encounter as a "crew" would be facing your worst nightmare.

The minute you saw the bright red nose and funny make-up, you stiffened. Your eyes went wide and you became unresponsive, like you couldn't hear them talking or feel Zoro's subtle protective touches. You were too focused on the clown in front of you, terrified to your core.

"What's wrong with her?" Buggy noticed your stare, and waved his hand in front of your face. "Can she hear me?"

Zoro growled and put himself between you and the clown pirate, "Eyes on me, Binky." He knew that wasn't the clown's name, but Luffy's mistake would serve him well in getting Buggy's attention off you.

Sure enough, the clown scowled and looked at him, "Buggy! It's not that hard to remember!"

You were relieved that the clown was no longer focusing on you, but just the sight of him was rattling you to your core. While he was distracted, you took it as your opportunity to turn and run.

Now let it be said that you do not run easily from anything. You and Zoro were pirate hunters, or had been until you'd been roped into this, and you had faced some nasty, dangerous threats. You were hardened, and almost nothing shook you.

Except clowns.

Funny how the one thing you steered clear of found you first the moment you aligned yourself with others.

Before you could get far, some of his circus freaks grabbed you and brought you back. The clown was still talking about himself, but chuckled when his goons brought you back into the tent.

"What's wrong, pirate hunter?" He sneered. "Scared?"

"Hey!" Luffy beat Zoro this time, "Leave her alone."

And things went downhill from there.

You were, for some reason, separated from the group. So was Luffy, but that's because Buggy was interrogating him. Nami and Zoro had been escorted somewhere else, leaving you on your own in another side room, panicking and growing more and more nauseous. To make matters worse, Luffy started screaming from wherever he was.

A while later, the clown walked into your room.

Your eyes went wide, and you struggled against the rope holding you to the wooden beam.

"I'm surprised," he spoke, "You have a reputation that made even some of my men nervous. And yet...you can't even look me in the eye." He stopped right in front of you, "Why's that?"

You tried your best to look away, turning your head sideways and finding something else to focus on. You couldn't speak, and you were trembling. Nothing had ever shaken you like this, ever. But clowns for some reason...you couldn't handle them.

"Is it the nose?" He asked mockingly, although he sounded a bit annoyed at the mention of his large appendage again. He forced you to look at him, gripping your chin in his gloved hands. "Hmm?"

"Leave me alone," you managed to get out through gritted teeth.

"Your captain isn't being very cooperative," he ignored your request, "So I have a lot of time to spend here with you."

"Why me?" You tried to glare, but you knew you looked scared. Because you were.

"Fear is a good motivator for telling the truth," he finally let go of your chin, walking around you and sizing you up. "Your friends will be tough to convince, but you...you don't like clowns, right? I'll leave you alone if you tell me where the map is."

"Do your worst," you breathed out, a little shakily, but you were determined not to cave. Not for this idiot.

He growled, and in an instant he was in front of you again, holding a knife to your throat while putting his frightening face right up in yours, "Tell me where it is!"

The sound you let out was something between a squeak and a yelp, fear once again overcoming your body at the clown's proximity. It wasn't so much the knife pressed against your jugular, it was the fact that your worst fear was inches away from you. You clenched your fists, trying to control your shaking, but it didn't work. And he was amused by your terror.

"I'm going to check on your captain," he stepped back, "If he doesn't give me an answer, I'm coming right back here and I promise I'll leave a scar." Then he left, and you could breathe again.

But that's when the tears came.

You didn't really sob, you just stayed there crying silently. Your body trembled, mind numb with fear and shock. His face was burned into your mind, and shutting your eyes only made your panic worse.

That's how Zoro found you, tied up and shaking with glassy eyes.

"What did he do to you?" The swordsman asked when he cut you loose, grabbing and squeezing your arms gently. "(Name), what did he do?"

You just shook your head, unable to speak, and sought his comfort by burying your face in his neck and crying even more. The more you shook, the angrier he got. But he held you for as long as you needed, knowing Nami would be okay with finding Luffy on her own. You were Zoro's priority.

You finally let go a few minutes later, wiping your face, "Let's go help the others."

He nodded, guiding you out the room.

The trauma stuck with you for a few days after the three of you escaped him, evident one night when you woke up sweating and shaking. Zoro was a deep sleeper, but he had a sixth sense reserved just for you, so he was woken up by your outburst.

Zoro wasn't good with words, but he was definitely good at comforting you through actions. He never had to say anything, he just wrapped his strong arms around you and you were slowly soothed. You just had to lean against his chest, enveloped in his arms, and you would slowly calm down. His gentle kisses atop your head also helped, his affection never failing to get your mind off whatever was worrying you.

In Syrup Village, you spotted a poster of the clown pirate and started hyperventilating. Zoro immediately turned you away from it and cupped your cheeks in his hands, making you look at him.

"Hey, focus on me," he told you, "Just me. I'm here. You're fine." He used a gentle, soft tone, one reserved just for you.

You tried to breathe, eyes locked on his face, concentrating on his warm brown ones that held so much concern for you. The eyes that always comforted you with just a look. Slowly your breathing evened out, and Zoro embraced you, this time not caring that you were in public.

"You're okay."

You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath, "Thanks, Zoro."

He just nodded, giving you one last forehead kiss, "If we ever see him again, I'm going to cut him up and throw him in the ocean."

You managed a weak smile, grateful to have such a protective boyfriend. His actions always proved how devoted he was, even if they were a little violent. You wouldn't have it any other way.

"You do that."