#the way he stopped claudia on the train……………..

[failbrothers]

oh so lestat is EVIL evil. got it

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

bad idea, right? | f. odair

masterlist

summary: after receiving a late-night call from your ex-boyfriend, finnick odair, you can’t help but agree to meet with him. what happens when you mix a sound-proof train car and an ex you haven’t seen in months?

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: rough-ish smut, a teensy bit of angry sex, swearing, unprotected sex (zon’t zo that), kinda ooc finnick, choking,

notes: based on 'bad idea, right?' by olivia rodrigo. i lost the person who sent the request so sorry this took so long to come out!! i don’t know if i like how this is written, but smut is smut so… enjoy :)

word count: 4.6k

Neon beams of light pulsed in time with the heavy bass blasting throughout your unnecessarily large home in the Victor’s Village. District Two. Masonry. Big houses.

Two shots of tequila and some other very unnatural concoctions were soaking deep into your brain. Everything was swaying—the room, the people, even you. Your small group of friends danced by your side, keeping together to avoid the creeps that might have entered your home. Although, to you, entertaining a stranger that night did not sound like such a terrible idea.

You felt lonely. Undeniably and pathetically lonely. The alcohol only enhanced your emotions and libido, leading you to search the room for anyone who interested you enough to take them upstairs. But there was no one, because in reality there was only one person you really wanted, and he was no longer yours. He hadn’t been for months.

Replacements had come and gone, but they never stuck. None of them made you feel the way he did.

“Excuse me!” an exasperated voice yelled. “Would you please get out of my way?!”

To your right, your housekeeper, bless her poor deafened soul, was pushing through a crowd of intoxicated partygoers and heading straight for you.

“Claudia!” you shouted over the music, tugging down your short black slip dress out of respect for her modesty.

The elderly woman stopped in front of you, her disapproval of the vibrant scene clear as day. You always paid her double in exchange for putting up with the chaos whenever you threw a house party, which was almost every weekend.

She hovered close to your ear. “There is someone on the phone for you!”

“Did you get a name?!”

After she shook her head, you escorted her through the thick crowd of dancers, into a quieter room and thanked her before beelining for the landline.

With a heavy sigh, you brought the corded phone to your ear and said, “Whoever this is, you better make it quick. I’m not nearly as intoxicated as I need to be and in dire need of another shot.”

Over the scratchy static, you could hear a quiet chuckle—a sound you had spent months trying to forget, along with the person attached to it. How many drinks did you have again? The alcohol must have messed with your mind because this could not be real.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” the caller said, his voice low and amused.

Everything you had longed to forget came rushing to the surface at an overwhelming pace. Wisps of hair the colour of a dying fire. Eyes resembling the sea. Arms that once acted as a life jacket. A dangerous mouth that had explored every inch of your body.

No. It couldn’t be—

“Finnick.”

********

Stupid. This was so fucking stupid. You were attempting to sneak out of your own party. A good old Irish Goodbye in your own house. With luck, you would make it out the front door without being caught by your friends, or worse, Claudia. Now that would be scary.

Water flushed through your system, a weak attempt you made at sobering yourself up because meeting up with your ex while drunk was a recipe for disaster. Then again, so was meeting up with your ex in the first place. Nothing will happen, you thought to yourself, we are just going to talk.

A thought even more unbelievable than thinking you would be able to be able to escape the watchful eyes of your friends.

Your high-heeled foot had just crossed the front door when someone called your name. “Damn,” you muttered, turning back around.

Valeria, your closest yet heavily intoxicated friend strutted over to you, her feet wobbling every few steps. “You sneaky little minx,” she slurred. “Someone said they saw you on the phone. It was him, wasn’t it? He asked you to go see him.”

“Just as friends. No, not even. As acquaintances.”

“Oh, my sweet, sweet silly friend.” She grabbed you by the shoulders. “We both know you aren’t that foolish.”

You looked away because you knew damn well that she was right.

“Look, I get it,” she continued. “Your hot, he’s hot.” You smiled. “You both have a history. I just want to make sure you know all the outcomes of what you're about to do. I’ll be here for you if things do get messy but expect a well-versed speech of me saying ‘I told you so’ afterwards.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Val,” you laughed, prying her hands off your shoulders. “I really do appreciate your concern, but I promise all we��re going to do is talk.”

“Alright, but if things go south, call me. Immediately!” she called a little too loudly as you took subtle steps away from the front door and onto the street. “Have fun with your innocent little ‘talk’!”

“Thanks, mum!”

You waved goodbye as you walked down the street, body buzzing with exhilaration and apprehension. Finnick had told you his train stopped in the district’s station for the night. He and his new victor were travelling throughout Panem for the Victory Tour and were currently in District Two. You didn’t know much about his tribute, only that they were a she. The thought of Finnick spending all his time with another girl had that green-eyed monster inside you writhing.

Enough to make you agree to meet with him after midnight while moderately drunk and slightly horny. What a fantastic plan.

District Two’s train station was a short distance from the Victor’s Village, but it was long enough to cause you to remove your heels. You finally reached the train, barefoot and with the wind softly blowing your hair. Finnick had specified a particular door to knock on so as not to alert the peacekeepers residing within the train. So, you knocked. And then you waited.

Your heart was pounding; your hands were trembling. Not long after, a dark figure appeared behind the door’s tinted window. With a click, the door opened and revealed a shirtless smirking Finnick Odair.

Oh, fuck me.

He was even more gorgeous than the last time you saw him. His crossed arms bulged with thick muscles as he leaned against the doorframe, gaze shamelessly roaming over your scarcely dressed appearance before settling on your face. The amusement in his expression was ever-present and ever-growing.

“Finnick,” you greeted.

“Y/N.”

He extended his hand, inviting you inside the train and hesitantly, you accepted. Sparks of electricity travelled up your arm, starting from where his and your hand connected. Some things never changed.

Empty silence welcomed your presence as you entered the train car. Patterned silver vases of white roses were placed atop every available surface. Meticulously crafted chandeliers lit up the room with a golden haze. To your left was an arrangement of black leather couches surrounding a small silver table; further down the car was a rectangular mahogany dining table decorated with fruit and unlit candles.

Somehow a single train car was more luxurious than your entire house.

“Is every one asleep?” you asked, running your fingertips along the pure gold that lined the couches.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes following your movements. “Every room on this train is sound-proof, so...”

You nodded, unsure of how else to reply. Conversations usually ran smoothly between you and Finnick. They were effortless. But that was when you were together. Four months must have passed now since you last spoke.

“Are you and what’s-his-name still together?” he asked.

“No,” you said bluntly. “I broke up with him last month.”

“My sincerest condolences.” His sympathetic tone was as transparent as glass. Sarcasm always was his favourite pastime. “Guess he just couldn’t satisfy your needs.”

Turning around to face him, you leaned against the couch’s arm, jaw clenched and eyes glowering with agitation. “Is there any specific reason why you called me here?”

He raised a glass of rich amber liquid to his lips. “Can’t two old friends just reconnect?”

“Old friends,” you scoffed. “That’s what you call it. From what I remember, the last time we saw each other, we were having goodbye sex in your bed. And in the kitchen and the lounge and on the balcony.”

Something sincere overshadowed his teasing nature, revealing itself in the tension in his facial muscles and the glassy haze that clouded his eyes. Reminiscence. “It didn’t have to be goodbye,” he spoke softly whilst holding your gaze.

You blinked. There was a short pause and only the quiet hum of the lights sounded in the room. You were the one to end the relationship, not the other way around much to your friends’ disbelief. Over and over, you had been asked the same question: why on earth would you break up with Finnick Odair?

Well, behind closed doors, he was incredible. He was loving, affectionate, and thoughtful. He would collect seashells for you that he found on the beach whenever he went fishing, leave hand-written poetry and heartfelt love letters whenever he left for the Capitol, and mother of fucking Christ was the sex just downright extraordinary.

But as previously stated, it was all behind closed doors.

Finnick never wanted to be seen together in public and on the off chance you were, he would practically neglect your existence. Only your most trusted friends and Finnick’s family knew about your relationship. No one else. Eventually, the secretiveness created a deep void inside you that not even the sweetest love letters and seashells could fill. You couldn’t remain with someone who seemed ashamed to be with you in public.

So, with a heavy heart, you said goodbye.

In fear of becoming too emotional, you disregarded his weighted words and crossed your arms. “So,” you began, “how’s the Tour been so far? You must be pretty ecstatic one of your tributes actually won.”

He bounced back fairly quickly. “I suppose it’s always nice to watch someone you trained live for a change,” he said, placing his drink on a nearby table. “Plus, she’s got a lot of charisma. A natural with the speeches and interviews, so I don’t need to do too much coaching.”

And there it was again—that green-eyed monster. “Charisma, huh?” You just couldn’t help yourself. “Is she pretty too?”

Finnick tilted his head, visibly surprised by your blatant jealousy. “She just turned sixteen,” he stated with a small smirk tugging at his lips. Well, no one told you that bit of information. Awkward. “Careful, Y/N. You sounded a little jealous there.”

You pushed off the chair, heading back toward the door you entered through. Maybe this was a bad idea. “Alright, I’m leaving now.”

Just as you turned the handle, a set of rushed footsteps thudded behind you. The door opened a mere crack, sending in a cold draft that caused your body to shudder.

“Wait, just—” A swift hand came over your shoulder and pushed the door shut, eliciting a startled gasp from your lips. You could feel Finnick towering over you, the warmth of his skin spreading onto your cold back and his breaths fanning down against the bareness of your shoulder. He was so close. “I just needed to see you before I leave tomorrow morning.”

Slowly, you turned around, coming face-to-face with the man you shouldn’t have loved. His burning gaze was a stark contrast to the icy metal door your back was pressed against. Tension pulsated in the small space between you and him. The intense attraction that had first brought you two together came rushing forth; trying to fight such a magnetic force was impossible. You needed connection—touch.

This night would not end with just a simple innocent chat, you knew that now.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “You needed to see me?” you asked. “Finnick, if you want me to stay, don’t beat around the bush. Tell me what you really want.”

Silence. He continued staring at you and you could see a scheme forming behind his mesmerising green eyes. Then the scheme was unfolding. He leaned down to your level, to your lips, his half-lidded eyes never leaving your mouth as he just barely allowed his lips to brush yours. On instinct, you tilted your head upwards.

“I want you,” he whispered.

You didn’t waste a second to respond. “Then take me.”

He was quicker than a bullet train. Finnick’s lips caught your own and were burning with fiery desire, evident in his haste to wrap you up in his arms and practically merge your body with his. Flames licked just beneath your skin, setting your nerves alight with passion and lust. You burned together in an inferno fuelled by each other’s touch.

Logically, this was wrong. Finnick was your ex-boyfriend and for good reason. But as your hands clung to every inch of him that they possibly could, as his tongue and yours danced fluidly with one another, and as your body buzzed with pure adrenaline, you were willing to abandon all your morals in exchange for five more minutes in his embrace.

A moan travelled from your mouth to his own as you felt him bite your lower lip. You could already feel that familiar throbbing sensation between your thighs and the wetness that exposed how much you craved him. You knew he felt the same. His sweatpants left little to the imagination.

Your hand slipped between your connected bodies, travelling down Finnick’s firm stomach, gliding over his small trail of hair and finally into his pants. Your fingers curled around his cock which already leaked with precum. He was just as desperate as you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound sending tingles down your spine.

You left his lips to press a wet kiss to his neck. “I wonder how many times you pretended your hand was my own,” you purred, leaving another kiss on his clavicle. “How many times you tried to recreate the warmth you only feel when you're inside me.”

His mouth hung open, letting out quiet uneven breaths as you stroked his length, your pace so quick that he already felt an overwhelming urge to release into your soft unrelenting hand. The sound of your voice, so sexy and lustful, combined with your swift pressured movements had his stomach tensing and contracting with a devastating build-up of pleasure.

“Too many times,” he admitted in a strained voice.

You sucked on the warm pulsing skin of his neck, this time receiving a groan that buzzed on your lips. His hands grabbed at your hips for support, roughly kneading the softness and satin in his large palms.

“This dress—fuck!” his voice broke as another hand slipped into his pants, cupping his balls as the other twisted with each stroke of his cock. “Sweetheart,” he chuckled breathlessly. “You look like a fucking siren.”

Your soft lips pecked at his toned chest before pulling away and looking up at him through your lashes. Euphoric delirium was prominent in his eyes. “You should’ve seen everyone staring at my party,” you said. “I wish you saw how badly the men wanted to fuck me right there on the dancefloor; how they undressed me with their eyes. Maybe then you would understand the mistake you made by never showing me off.”

Aggravation blazed in his aroused eyes which only made you so much hornier. Before you could pump another stroke, Finnick had ripped your hands from his pants and spun you around, pinning your body against the wall with his own, his hard cock pushing against the plush of your ass.

“I do understand,” he growled into your ear.

He abruptly started sucking hard kisses onto the side of your neck which had you gasping for air and tilting your head to allow him further access. One of his hands cupped your breast, massaging it with rough fingers and pinching your peaked nipples between his fingertips. His other hand travelled around your hip, wandering beneath your revealing dress and slipping into your lace panties.

You cried out when two fingers plunged into your soaking hole without warning.

“Know what I wish?” he asked, fingers curling in and out of you at such a rapid pace that the wet noises could be heard throughout the entire room. Blissful tears threatened to spill down your face. “I wish those guys could see how you looked right now with my fingers fucking you.” The hand on your breast moved to your throat, applying enough pressure on your carotid to make your head pound with dizziness. “I wish they knew you only enjoy being fucked by me.”

Your walls squeezed around his fingers, pulling him even further inside. Your untouched breasts were squashed against the train door and the fabric of your dress rubbed against your sensitive nipples. Finnick’s cock twitched against you and his hand was constricting the blood flow to your head. Yeah. Nobody else could make you feel better than this.

Finnick plunged his fingers inside again with a hard thrust which forced a broken moan from your lips. “Isn’t that right?”

The heel of his palm dug into your clit and your entire body was overcome with pins and needles; your knees buckled and hit the metal door. That would definitely bruise. You hoped it would—you wanted a reminder of this night.

“Yes!” you gasped. “Finnick, only you. Only you.”

“That’s right.”

Your moans started to rise in pitch, signalling the orgasm which was rapidly closing in. But right before you could come, Finnick’s fingers slipped out of you and out of your now-drenched panties. Your orgasm began to fade due to the lack of friction until it disappeared completely, leaving you feeling frustrated and neglected.

Turning back around with a flushed face, you witnessed Finnick sucking your juices off his fingers with a pop. His grin was conniving, self-satisfied with his actions which proved how desperately you wanted him to fuck you. That smug bastard. You would give anything to wipe the amusement off his beautiful fucking face.

And, well, you did.

“Fuck you!” you exclaimed, shoving him backwards.

“Fuck me?” He raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching at his lips. “I already know you want to.”

With a frustrated cry, you shoved him again, but this time he caught you in his arms and fervidly crushed his lips to yours. You squirmed and writhed and resisted but eventually melted into his embrace when you remembered you wanted this. You wanted this so badly.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as both your bodies continuously curved into one another, neither of you being able to remain still for more than a few seconds. The taste of brandy and you were on Finnick’s tongue as it swirled around your mouth; the flavours, which were polar opposites, sweet and savoury, mixed together to create something utterly carnal.

With the knowledge that this was probably a one-time thing, your kisses became bruising and frantic. Finnick alternated between kissing your lips, your neck, your jaw, and any place he could possibly reach. You hung onto every sound he made, every hot breath he took.

The two of you stumbled around the train car, lips never leaving one another, hands grabbing at every inch of flesh they could reach. You bumped into walls and multiple glass ornaments and laughed together when Finnick just barely caught one before it shattered on the floor.

Eventually, you ended up down the opposite end of the train car. Your back hit something hard and you gasped in surprise. The dining table. Finnick gave a quick glance at the table before pressing another kiss to your lips, this time a little more tenderly.

“Turn around,” he said, and you did.

You immediately felt him press himself against your behind. You stared ahead, chest heaving and swollen lips tingling, waiting for any more commands. His hand walked around your thigh, over the mound of your pussy, and then grazed up your stomach. He left a trail of warm tingles between your breasts before continuing upward to move your hair from your shoulder where he placed another warm gentle kiss.

Finally, he splayed his hand flat between your shoulder blades and pushed, bending you over the table until your torso lay flat on the cold wooden surface. Finnick hiked your dress up to your hips and crouched down, caressing your outer thighs before sliding your panties down to your ankles.

The air hit your bare skin and you exhaled a shaky breath as you anticipated his next movements. As he rose to his feet, he trailed kisses up your leg, ending with a soft bite to your ass which earned him a small giggle.

You could hear him tug down his sweatpants which hit the floor with a muffled thud. Your breaths continued to shake with nerves, coming out in soft pants. Finnick held onto your hip with one hand and held himself in the other. No words were spoken. Both of you wanted this—needed this.

Next thing you knew, your panting breaths had stopped altogether. Finnick’s cock had slid between your folds, filling you up in one single movement, and you both released a relieved moan in sync. Your hands pressed against the tabletop as your body began to rock with his thrusts. You weren’t going to make love or whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears. No. This was pure unadulterated fucking.

Finnick started off fast; neither of you had the patience for a slow build-up. You didn’t even bother caring about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom. His hand had lowered to your mid back and the other gripped your hip as your warmth swallowed him over and over.

“Oh god,” you gasped.

The sensations that overtook your body were eagerly welcomed. You had tried to replicate the sex Finnick gave with other men after your relationship ended, but none seemed to compare even the slightest. You weren’t sure how a single human being could provide the sensations of nirvana, how one could master the skills of bringing another person to such an incredible high, but Finnick could. He always could.

It was only at this point that you realised how badly your body had been in withdrawal from his touch. The feeling of him inside you was like a drug. Addicting. Definitely not healthy.

You had tried fingering yourself to replicate his cock, but it was a pathetic attempt. Finnick could hit a deep spot inside you that no one else could like it was some secret forbidden location that only he held the key to. He made your body feel full. Stuffed. Complete. In a way that made you feel like you were going to burst into an explosion of white heavenly light.

Your nails scratched at the wood as he continued to pound into you, cock gliding against the ripples of your inner walls. There wasn’t a single inch of space left inside you. He fit like your pussy was where he belonged.

“Always feel so fucking good,” he muttered between thrusts.

His pleasure was always vocal, voiced with heavy breaths, grunts, and groans. Sometimes he even whimpered, especially when you edged him. He didn’t mind you being more dominant at times, but right now was not one of those moments. Being bent over and fucked into a table was not in any way, shape, or form you being dominant. This was Finnick being in control and it felt incredible.

“Finnick,” you said. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop!”

In response he grabbed your other hip and pulled you back into him, burying himself even deeper inside you with each thrust which had you crying out his name again. He hunched over your body, hips still pounding behind you, and sucked harsh kisses on your shoulder. He left behind red and deep purple marks on your shoulder, moving to your neck, and then grazed your earlobe with his teeth.

He returned a hand to your throat, forcing the both of you into a standing position. His fingers squeezed, reducing the blood flow into your brain which enhanced the explosion building up inside you.

“Harder!” you cried.

Both his cock and his hand increased their vigour. Stars were sparkling in your vision. You were almost completely sober now, yet you felt entirely drunk. Drunk on Finnick. He reached his free hand between your legs and your body fell back into his, only remaining upright from his support.

His fingers rubbed side-to-side on your clit, so hard and fast that his hand almost blurred in motion. Your moans rose an octave as your stomach began to tighten. A fire burned within your muscles, so pleasurably excruciating that you thought they would liquefy inside you. Your pussy clenched around Finnick’s cock, walls fluttering with each of his pounding thrusts.

“Come, sweetheart,” he purred into your ear. You could hear how much he struggled to contain his moans as he talked. “Come on, I know you're close. I can feel you.”

You nodded mindlessly and curled your arm backwards around his neck, in need of something to cling to. As the feeling inside your stomach intensified, your eyes squeezed shut and your hold around his neck tightened until you were almost choking him. With every ounce of strength that he had inside him, Finnick increased his pace until he fit multiple mind-destroying thrusts into each second that passed.

He was almost animalistic with his pounding and unrestrained groans of pleasure. And you were so close, so, so close to falling over the edge. His hand was constricted around your throat; the other assaulted your clit, and his cock was mercilessly hitting that swollen spot inside you. Any second and—

“I’m go—I’m gonna come!”

A potent cocktail of pleasure, ecstasy, and release washed through your body, unravelling the tension inside your stomach and exiting through your stuffed hole. Your juices coated Finnick’s cock with warmth as you repeated his name over and over.

You could feel him twitching inside you, spilling himself onto your clenching walls whilst bending you over to senselessly fuck you into the table. His moans were so loud, so fucking attractive, but may God have mercy on both of you if the room wasn’t actually soundproof.

Neither of you could stop. You came an immeasurable number of times; your hands left marks on Finnick’s body as he did on yours, and every surface in the room had been tainted with your sin. You clung onto one another, desperately prolonging your night together that would most likely be the last. Ever.

*********

“Don’t leave again.”

Your fingers stilled as you strapped on your high heels. You glanced up at Finnick—who now had his sweatpants back on—from the gold-lined leather chair you sat in.

“Finnick…” you sighed.

“Please,” he said. Crouching down in front of you, he gently took your hand into his own. His face, which previously reflected nothing but pleasure, now looked at you with pained desperation. “I’ll explain everything to you. Why I was always in the Capitol. Why it was too dangerous for us to be seen together in public. All of it.”

The mention of danger took you aback. You had thought he never wanted to be seen together because he was embarrassed, not because it was… dangerous. Brows furrowed together, your eyes flickered between his, searching for any hint of deception, anything that might reveal malicious intentions. But when had Finnick ever been malicious towards you? Never. All you found in his eyes was sincerity.

“I can’t lose you again,” he whispered, lowering his head.

After a few seconds of contemplation, you realised there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to walk out on him again. Life would mean nothing without Finnick beside you.

Your fingers sat under his chin, lifting his head to meet your gaze. The two of you exchanged a look of vulnerability, signifying an era of newfound understanding and reconnection.

You whispered in response. “You’ve got me, Finn.” 

tags: @tayrae515

[pitchsidestories]

when grumpy met sunshine II Kika Nazareth x Reader

part 2 I masterlist I word count: 2382

It was the first day of training after the summer vacation marking the start of pre-season. With the new players coming in on the one hand and on the other hand the familiar faces it almost felt like the beginning of a school year. Everyone was buzzing.  

One of the fresh signings approached you quickly once she recognized you, her face lit up with joy and excitement.

“Hi y/n, I love your playing style and can’t wait to play with you!”, Kika Nazareth greeted you. God how you hated that footballer and her stupid smile. Also how dare she is saying that after what happened a year ago.

“Uhu, sure. It seems like you forgot what you did during the Champions League group stage games.”, you answered coldly.

“Huh, what do you mean?”, the Portuguese woman frowned confused.

“Forget it.”, you waved it off and rushed off leaving a very bewildered Kika behind.

“Don’t take it personally she never forgets anything really. Come on you need to meet the rest of your new teammates.”, Mapi padded empathetically the shoulder of the young forward.

“But I don’t get it, Mapi. What did I ever do to her?”, the brunette asked the defender, while her brown eyes followed you across the room. S

he was genuinely excited to play with you, if you hadn’t stopped her so abruptly the Portuguese might have said even more. How Kika loved the way you looked and.. she should stop thinking any further you clearly were mad at her, but why?

“I don’t know.”, the older Spanish woman shrugged equally as clueless.

“Weird.”, the forward mumbled.

“Let’s go the others are so thrilled to see you.”, Mapi tried to cheer her up.

“Hey, everyone.”, Kika begun anew, beaming at the teammates. Hoping, no praying, she wouldn’t cause a reaction like yours earlier. The dark haired forward didn’t want to ruin the first day at the new club anymore.

“Hi, welcome to the club.”, Claudia replied grinning.

“And thanks to special agent Aitana for this transfer who sadly can’t be here right now.”, Mapi continued, trying to soothe the fresh signing. It worked Kika did feel more relaxed in front of them.

“Guys calm down she still hasn’t proven herself in the team.”, you commented rolling your eyes, suddenly appearing next to Ingrid.

“I’m aware of how good this team is. But I’m sure I can help.”, the Portuguese swallowed hard, trying to sound as optimistic as possible.

“We’ll see about that.”, you shot back.

“Don’t worry you’ll.”, she promised. The football player was waiting for a response but once more you vanished without a trace. What a strange behaviour Kika thought to herself.

Thankfully Ellie delivered a much-needed distraction.

 “Kika? Ewa and I wanted to ask you if you’d join us for a coffee sometime soon? As we’re all new to the city.”  

“Yes, sure, I’d love that.”, she nodded happily.

Ellie beamed: “Wonderful.“

“Can’t wait.“, Kika smiled back at the young goalie.

Once again, you rolled your eyes and turned away from them to focus on your warm up.

You were one of the last to leave the pitch two hours later, thinking that you would have the dressing room for yourself. You did not expect Ingrid and Mapi waiting for you there.

“So?“, Ingrid said with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

You didn’t want to talk about your new team member so you decided to play along: “So what?“

With a half smile she finally formulated a question: “Why are you pouting?“

“I’m not pouting. Just annoyed by that smiley…“, you stopped yourself. You couldn’t come up with the right word for her anyway.

Mapi shook her head: “You’re not annoyed.“

At this point, you were starting to get annoyed with these two as well.

“Yes, I am. We didn’t need her in our team.“

“That’s not our decision though.“, Mapi shrugged.

You were about to say something but Ingrid was faster: “Y/n?“

You turned to her: “Yes?“

“Tell us why you’re mad at her.“

You heaved a frustrated sigh. They were worse than your parents.

“Remember when we drew against Benfica in Lisbon?“

Both of them nodded. Of course they would remember last years UWCL games. “Yeah?“

“What happened there? Why can’t you move on from it?“, Mapi asked.

Her girlfriend added: “Come on. It can’t be that bad. You can tell us.“

They looked at you with those soft eyes, all parent-like. Almost like your team psychologist.

The sudden urge to tell them disappeared completely so you just shrugged and grabbed your bag: “Whatever.“

You could feel their eyes on you as you left the dressing room, still in your workout clothes.

Ingrid looked at her incredulously: “Well, that was strange, Mapi.“

“Very.“, she agreed slowly.

As you went back to your own place, Kika and the other new players sipped on their coffees at a tiny little coffee shop.

“No, I’ll win her over with my charm, Ellie.“, Kika announced confidently. Even they had noticed the awkward tension between the two of you.

The English goalkeeper nodded slowly: “Sure you will, Kika.“

“Anyone wants some cake with their coffee?“, Ewa changed the topic. She had been eyeing the tasty looking sweet treats on display right from the start.

The Portuguese striker nodded: “Of course.“

“Can’t say no, they look delicious.“, Ellie laughed.

“We have to celebrate. It’s our first coffee date in our new home.“, Kika laughed.

Ewa stood up and agreed: “We do.“

She quickly returned with three different slices of cake so all of them could try.

“Knowing we play for such a prestigious club now feels great, right?“, she said as she sat the plates down on the table.

“This feels like a dream come true.”, the goalkeeper agreed with a dreamy look in her blue eyes.

It has always been something the blonde fantasized about since she was a little girl, playing for that club and now the fantasy turned into reality which she was forever grateful for.

When Ellie continued, she sounded serious. “Especially after the last year that I had.” The other two women knew about the stroke the English player had suffered.

That was why Kika pulled her into a soft hug whispering into the ear. You deserve to be here so much, Ellie.”

“Thanks. I’m happy that I got to start with you two.”, the goalkeeper smiled at her new teammates.

“Same. I’ve a feeling this will be a fantastic first season for us.”, Ewa replied enthusiastically.

“And we got each other if it’s getting hard.”, the Portuguese striker added.

“Yes, plus I’m sure even grumpy will like you eventually, Kika.”, Ellie remarked.

Immediately the smile vanished from the brunette’s face. “Not so sure about this. Apparently, I must have done something to her during our UWCL match last season.”

“But you don’t remember?”, Ewa questioned curiously. Quickly Kika shook her head.

“No.”

Although she tried her hardest to think what the striker could have done which made you hate her so much. Usually everyone warmed up under Kikas positive radiance, but you were her first exception, following her into her dreams.

In training Kika and you were much to your dismay supposed to be partners.

“Kika, I think Ill swap with Esmee.”, you declared.

“You can’t swap training partners.”, Mapi interjected in a tone which didn’t allow any dissent.

“Fine.”, you groaned. Even though you had played a few years in the first squad of Barca now aged 21 the defender was still like the big sister you never had, and you didn’t want to disappoint her. Even if it meant you needed to work with the person you disliked.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me.”, Kika observed, wearing a huge smile on her lips.

“Yes, with the one who showed me the middle finger last year.”, you muttered under her breath. Unfortunately, it was still loud enough for the striker to understand the words you were saying.

“I never did that!”, she objected loudly.

“Yes, you did.”, you responded.

“No way, I’d never do that.”, Kika insisted.

“And when you said something about the way I played.”, your voice trembled.

“That’s not true.”, the striker denied strongly.

“What’s true?”, you wanted to know.

“Nothing of what you think happened is true!”, she stated passionately.

Hearing her statement made your heart pound hard against your chest. “Are you saying that this is all a huge misunderstanding?”

Obviously!“, Kika said with emphasis and the slightest undertone of anger.

“Oh.“

You didn’t know what else to say. Was she telling the truth? Did it really only look like it at the pitch? Was it a gesture to you or her own teammate?

All the Champions League games seemed to blur together in front of your inner eye. Now you weren’t sure anymore.

“Wait… so you don’t hate me because I’m here and could potentially take your place in the starting squad?“, Kika asked.

You frowned at her: “No, we play two different positions. So why should I be afraid of that?“

“Because I know that you like to push forward too.“, she explained.

You stalled once again. You found it impressive that she had already analyzed your playing style.

You shook your head: “Yes. But I don’t hate your for that. I’m used to tough competition, Barca is my childhood club.“

“Okay… wow.��

“What?“

Kika started laughing: “I really thought you hated me because you had a good reason.“

At first you just glared at her for making fun of you but her laugh was incredibly infectious and you suddenly found yourself laughing with her.

“Stop laughing. This is a good reason!“, you told her as you playfully hit her arm.

“That’s not a good reason.“

“Come on. Focus on your exercise.“, you reminded her, still smiling.

Kika raised her hands defensively and grinned: “Okay, okay. Can’t make you mad at me again.“

“No. Also I have to maintain my grumpy status.“, you replied and tried your best to keep your face serious again.

Kika giggled: “Sorry, of course.“

“Good.“

“Don’t worry. I think I can handle your grumpiness.“

You squinted at her: “Might need some sunglasses to deal with your sunshiny attitude.“

“I know you love it.“, she winked at you. She really dared to wink at you!

You shook your head: “No, you’re still the most annoying person around here.“

“You don’t mean that.“

She was right. You didn’t.

Still, you continued to tease: “Are you sure?“

She flashed you a confident smile: “Yes.“

“Dream on.“

Kika shrugged casually and focused back on your partner exercise: “If you say so, y/n.“

After your talk, you didn’t feel that intense anger towards Kika anymore. Everything was a bit lighter once the misunderstanding was cleared up. It went even so far that you didn’t react with pure disgust when she asked you to room together at your first pre-season match against Hoffenheim.

“Can’t believe we’ve to share a room, Kika.“, you joked as you sat on one of the beds.

Kika threw herself onto the other one: “Quit complaining, you grump.“

You shrugged with amusement: “At least it’s just for one night.“

The Portuguese striker smiled: “You will survive. I’m a quiet sleeper.“

After you both changed into your pyjamas and brushed your teeth you happily let your head fall on to the soft pillow.

“Good night, Kika.”, you mumbled.

“Night y/n.”, the striker hummed.

Yet something was off, the heat in that southern part of Germany still hung in the room, plus Kika hasn’t stopped moving in her bed. 

“Can’t you sleep?”, you asked her with a heavy sigh.

“No, what about you?”, she returned the question, directing her gaze straight at you.

“Me neither.”, you admitted. There was some restlessness and tension between the two of you, it was almost unbearable.

“Do you want to talk?”, Kika offered kindly.

“Sure.”, you agreed softly.

“So, what keeps you up?”, the Portuguese wanted to know.

Even though the moonlight enhanced her features and made you think thoughts again you tried to avoid you started with a less heavy confession.

“The adrenaline of the win. I think I’ll never get tired of that feeling, what about you?”

You waited for her response, did you imagine it or did her cheeks turn red, it was hard to tell in the dark.

“Oh, yeah, I get that. I love it too. But there’s something else that keeps me awake.”, the brunette replied nervously.

“There’s? Are you missing Portugal?”, you listened up.

“A bit yes, but that’s not it. This might be a bad start for the new season, but there’s someone in this team that I think I’ve a crush on.”, Kika confessed.

“You do?”, you answered stunned.

“Yeah.”

For a moment you paused before the realization hit you hard.

“Wait, it’s me, right?”

“It’s yes.”, she confirmed quietly.

“That’s too bad because I.”, you begun.

“Oh, you don’t have to say anything, I get that. I didn’t want to ruin anything.”, the striker interrupted you quickly.

“No stop talking for a moment.”, you begged her, placing a finger of yours onto her lips. God, that woman really loved to talk, even though now the time clearly was for listening as you tried to demonstrate to her.

“I fell too.”, you added in a whisper.

“You did? Am I not way too annoying for you.”, Kika frowned.

“Yes, you’re and yet I’d like to kiss your mouth who loves to annoy me with it’s yapping.”, you grinned.

“You should give it a try maybe.”, she smirked.

“Maybe you can sleep better afterwards.”, you suggested playfully.

“Maybe we both can.”, your teammate wiggled her eyebrows.

“I’m sure of it.” First the kiss was cautiously before it was getting more intensely until you heard the door open loudly.

“Oh my god!”, Mapi yelled.

“Mapi, get out!”, you shrieked.

“I didn’t see anything. Promise!”, the defender gesticulated wildly. With that said she was gone as quick as the older woman came.

“This news will run like a wildfire, right?”, Kika chuckled.

“Yes, by tomorrow morning everyone knows.”, you groaned as she pulled you into a hug.

“I don’t mind that. They can know that grumpy and sunshine always belong together.”, she announced solemnly placing a soft kiss to your forehead.

[girlgenius1111]

screaming underwater

barça x teen reader. r is dealing with mistreatment on her national team. the barça girls find out. warnings: descriptions of aforementioned mistreatment by national team.

------

The news came out of nowhere. One minute, Alexia, Pina, Patri, and Mapi were at a restaurant eating lunch, and the next, Pina was staring at her phone in horror, all the color drained out of her face. 

“Clau? What’s up?” Patri asked, catching the look on her best friend’s face. This halted the conversation between the other 2 girls, and Alexia and Mapi both turned to their younger teammate in concern. 

Claudia shook her head, remaining silent as she handed her phone to Patri, standing up and leaving the table. 

“I need some air,” she said shakily. Alexia and Mapi exchanged looks, focusing their attention back on Patri for the moment. Patri had a rather similar reaction to Pina’s, practically shoving the phone into Mapi’s hand, and taking off towards the door her best friend had left through. 

“My god. Mapi, let me see.” Alexia complained, moving over so she could read over Mapi’s shoulder. 

She read the whole article, finishing just after Mapi did. The defender was looking up at her captain, distraught. 

“Fuck.” Alexia said. “Shit. Okay. We’ll go find Clau and Patri, and then we’ll call pequeña.” 

Alexia was always a voice of reason, and Mapi nodded gratefully, rising to her feet, throwing some cash on the table, and heading out of the restaurant. 

There was no longer any question of why her teammates had reacted the way they did. The contents of that article felt eerily similar. And if they were true, they had a lot to be worried about. 

-----

You’d finished your morning training session, pulling out your phone the minute you returned to your hotel room, and saw the article. First, though, you had to scroll through the messages upon messages from your teammates expressing their concern. You didn’t spend too long reading those, knowing it would likely be too much for you right now. 

It wasn’t as bad as it could have been; there were a lot of details omitted, some of the more worrying details. Still, it was more than the people in charge would want leaked to the media, especially when it painted them as the villains. 

In short, the article detailed, via anonymous interviews with some of your teammates, the conditions that your u23 national team was under. Your coach was vile, the training staff always following his lead. There were recovery specialists that many of you guys refused to work with. The personnel themselves were an issue. More than that, though, what they did was the biggest problem. The team hadn’t been performing very well, and as a consequence, you and your teammates were being worked half to death. Running until you dropped, scrimmaging until you couldn’t feel your legs anymore. You were woken early in the morning for extra workouts, and kept up late to go over film. It was constant, exhausting, and completely demoralizing. The way you were spoken too was no better than what your body was being put through. Your coach had apparently decided that the right way to motivate the team was to rip everyone to shreds. He hurled cruel insults at you and your teammates. He didn’t just go after your playing abilities; he went after your fitness, your weight, your personal life, your personality, your appearance, your relationships within the team. There were no boundaries. There was no way to say no, no way to make it stop. 

You were determined to handle it. You didn’t know any different when it came to your national team. Granted, it had never been this bad before, not in all your time with the team. You wanted it handled internally. You saw what your Spanish teammates went through when they tried to make a change, and their suffering wasn’t something you were willing to bring upon yourself and your teammates. You guys were all young, under the age of 23. If your Spanish teammates that were full adults couldn’t do it without winning a world cup, what chance did a bunch of kids have? No one would listen, it would only make it worse. Although, somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew you were suffering far more than you would be if you refused your call up. You didn’t give up, and you didn't ask for help. You’d never had the ability to do so, always wanting to be independent. International breaks became something you dreaded deeply, and something you attended all the same. It was a stagnant, constant torture, constant weight on your shoulders. Nothing really seemed like it would cause a change. 

Until the article was published. 

You didn’t know who’d spoken to the journalist, but you didn’t fault them. Though you’d never admit it, you were secretly glad that someone had been braver than you. Still, the verbal lashing you and your teammates got later that day was borderline abusive. The following punishment was worse. Your coach led the team to the stadium, into the stands, and instructed you all to begin running the stadium steps, until he felt you’d “learned your lesson.” 

No one spoke up, no one argued. Everyone just set off with a resigned sigh. You all ran for a while. What must have been at least an hour, in the hot sun. Up and down and back up again. Until the world was spinning around you, and even though everyone asked for a water break, one was not given. You all kept going. 

You went until you dropped, literally. Until you missed a step, fell forward, and smashed your head on the seat next to you. The pain in your whole body ceased, briefly, before it erupted again in your head, and then everything went black. 

-----

At least you could leave early without seeming like a coward. No one could argue against the decision the team doctors had come to; you had a large gash on your forehead that needed stitches, a black eye, and a mild concussion. Your coach sneered at you, but dismissed you all the same, leaving you with a warning to remember to keep the team’s best interest in mind. You knew this meant that he expected you to remain silent, as you had been until this point. You planned to. What you didn’t necessarily plan for was your club teammates. You should have considered them, but you didn’t. That was your second mistake. The first was barely responding to anyone’s texts and calls after the article was published. You didn’t even tell anyone you were going home. Deciding the medical announcement from the team would be enough, you boarded your flight to Barcelona, completely ignoring the flood of messages you were receiving. 

You just wanted to go home. Lay in your bed where you were safe, and far from the people that seemed hell bent on making your life a living hell several weeks out of the year. You didn’t want to talk, you didn’t want to see anyone. You ignored the multitude of texts from Pina, Patri, Mapi, Alexia, and Marta, asking you if you needed a ride home from the airport. You Ubered home from the airport instead, barely making it through your door before you tossed your bag aside and collapsed into your bed. 

In order to avoid a break in from your teammates, you pulled your phone out before you fell asleep, opening your text thread with Alexia. 

Nena, I saw the article. Call me.

Are you okay?

Please respond, nena, we’re really worried about you.

Jona called, I heard about your injury. Are you okay?

When are you coming home?

When does your flight land?

Nena, please. Just message something to let me know you got home okay. 

You sighed. You didn’t want to talk. Talking would only make it worse, you were sure. It hadn’t been that bad, not really. It was normal, a little harsh, but the team had been playing so poorly, what did you all expect? Rationalizing it was all you could do, really. 

Hola Capi. I’m okay, I’m home now. Everything is fine, really. Don’t worry. 

Alexia responded barely a minute after you’d hit send. 

Okay, nena. If you need to talk, we’re all around for you, okay? Please, please call me if you need me, for anything. We can talk more tomorrow when you come for your medical eval. It’s at 9am and Mapi and I have media stuff then, but Pina and Patri are going to pick you up. Rest a lot, I’ll see you tomorrow. 

Even though you were comfortably curled up in bed, incredibly sleep deprived, and concussed, you couldn’t fall asleep right away. You were rather busy trying to figure out how to act tomorrow. You felt so… weighed down from everything that had happened. You looked in the mirror barely recognizing yourself, and it had nothing to do with your injuries. You didn’t feel like you. You felt like the empty version of yourself that always returned from national duty, but 10x worse. You didn’t think you could smile if you tried. Convincing your teammates that you were okay was going to take a lot of energy that you simply didn’t have. You couldn’t do it, you were too exhausted, in the very core of your being. You fell into a fitful sleep, setting your alarm for the next morning even though it was only early evening and you hadn’t eaten anything. You weren’t sure how to act, or how to play this. All you knew was that letting anyone see how badly you were hurting was not an option. 

-----

Your car ride to the Barça training grounds was painfully quiet. Pina and Patri had given up all attempts at making conversation; you’d made it clear that you didn’t want to talk. Neither of them were sure what to make of you right now. Your voice was steady, your body language rigid. You had a pair of huge sunglasses on, though, and a hood tugged up over your head. Neither of them could get a good glimpse at your face, to check on your injuries, or to see how you were really feeling. They supposed this was the point. Their worry only grew when you caught Patri’s arm before heading to the medical center. Her and Pina were headed for the locker room, but they both stopped in their tracks, looking back at you. 

You wanted to thank them. Not just for picking you up, but for bringing you coffee and a granola bar, and the comforting way they both squeezed your hand when they saw you. 

“Thanks for driving me. I really appreciate it.” You said softly. You never spoke quietly; you were incapable of doing so, normally. Today, however, both girls had to lean in to hear what you were saying. 

“Of course.” Patri replied. Your eyes fell back to the floor underneath you, and you headed off without another word, leaving two very concerned teammates in your wake. 

Patri stopped Pina just before walking into the locker room, very suddenly pulling the younger girl into a tight hug and not letting go. 

“Patri. Why are you suffocating me?” Claudia asked after a minute. 

The midfielder didn’t let up. “She’s acting like you did. After the last international break. I really don’t like it.” She explained. 

Claudia pulled away, shaking her head. She didn’t like to think about that. “I’m fine, Patri. She’ll be fine too, yeah?” 

“Hope so.” Patri said, giving her best friend a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

-----

Alexia and Mapi knew it was just as bad as they were expecting when they saw the looks on their younger teammates' faces. They’d finished media up as fast as they could, practically running to the gym where Pina and Patri were working out. 

It only took a shake of Patri’s head for both girls to whirl around, and set off for the medical center. 

You finished your eval at around the same time. The team doctors hadn’t asked too many questions. Jona had been there when you arrived, and had asked if there was anything you’d like to talk to him about. You’d shook your head, and he’d sighed, but left the room. The doctors had received the report from your national team’s staff. They knew that you’d fallen, but that was it. Nothing that accounted for the deep exhaustion that was clear across your face, or the way you barely spoke to them. They told you the same things that your national team had, giving you a rough timeline of your return. Finally, they very obviously reminded you of the club psychologist, before telling you that you were free to go. 

You were planning on waiting around somewhere secluded until Pina and Patri were done with their workout, stopping briefly to fill your water up. Your sunglasses were back on, hood pulled back up, depriving you of your peripheral vision, not to mention your rather swollen shut eye. 

When you turned, you jumped slightly, finding Mapi and Alexia standing directly behind you, arms crossed over their chests like a pair of bodyguards. If this was their goal, they had arrived late. The damage to you was already done. You weren’t sure the scars would ever fade.

Alexia stepped closer to you slowly , as if you would startle and run away from her if she moved too fast, pulling your hood down, and reaching for your sunglasses very carefully. 

“Ay dios mio” She murmured, taking your sunglasses off your face and carefully inspecting your wounds. “How did this happen?” 

Her voice was uncharacteristically shaky and full of fear, and her eyes bore into your own, a dangerous glint to them. Mapi didn’t look any different, standing next to her captain and eyeing you very carefully. 

“Fell.” You said simply. Not completely collapsing into their arms and telling them everything was much harder than you anticipated, so you stuck to one word answers for now. 

“You fell? What, off a cliff?” Mapi asked, ignoring the elbow to the ribs she received from the blonde next to her. 

You only shrugged in response, causing both girls to exchange a look. 

“Amiga, did someone do this to you? You can tell us, I promise. We will keep you safe.” Alexia promised, words she’d been rehearsing all morning. 

“No one did anything to me, I just fell.” You reiterated, and it wasn’t technically a lie. You were getting annoyed, uncharacteristically so. You didn’t want to answer these questions, and even though it was completely unfair, you were angry at Alexia. Promising to protect you now did nothing. Nothing at all. It was too late for that. You weren’t sure you’d ever feel safe again. 

“I do not believe you. You are not clumsy, you do not fall.” Mapi cut in, her words wildly more aggressive than her tone. You didn’t respond, back to staring at your feet. “The article that came out,” 

“It’s an exaggeration. Everything is fine. Nothing is wrong, everything is fine, and I just want to go home, okay?” You spit back, showing the most emotion you had all day. 

And though everything you’d said was clearly a lie, it was also clear you weren’t ready to talk. Mapi and Alexia had already decided to back off if you didn’t want to talk right now. It could wait until later, until you were somewhere you felt safe, and somewhere much more private than the hall outside Barcelona’s gym. This wasn’t the place. 

The older girls let you go with Patri and Pina, even though all of their instincts were telling them not to let you out of their sight. You were so jumpy, so obviously terrified, they couldn’t justify making you do something you didn’t want to right now.

Alexia watched you walk away with your teammates, startling slightly when she felt Mapi wrap her arms securely around the blonde. Mapi was holding tight to her best friend, and it was no secret as to why. Alexia hugged her back, just as tight. 

“She’s acting just like all the younger girls did after the Euros. It’s happening again, to her this time, and we can’t do anything to stop it.” Mapi mumbled. 

Alexia wanted to disagree, but she couldn’t. She wanted to promise Mapi that they’d fix it, but she wasn’t sure they had the power to. Watching someone you love suffer is always hard, and this was no different.  It seemed so out of their control, and it was excruciating to watch the effects of whatever happened at that national camp wreak havoc on you, and know they couldn’t stop it. 

------

The ride home was just as quiet as the ride there had been. This time, though, the girls didn’t let you go without speaking. The tension in the car had been different this time, and you knew one of them was planning to say something. You thought it would be Patri; she was one of the captains, she was older, you were closer with her. To your surprise, it was Pina that spoke up. 

Patri had just pulled into your driveway when Pina turned around, looking hesitantly at you. Maybe it was her clear anxiety that made you listen, really listen to what she had to say. 

“I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I can tell you aren’t okay. I just wanted to say that talking about it is way less painful than keeping it all inside. Everyone wants to help you, and I know you might feel embarrassed, or like you can handle it yourself, but you shouldn’t have to. We’re all here for you, whether you want to talk, or you just need some company. Okay?” 

You could tell it had taken a lot for Pina to say all that. She didn’t talk about her experience, ever, unless it was to Mapi or Patri, and even then, she preferred to pretend it hadn’t happened. She was putting that aside for you, though, and you couldn’t ignore the significance of that. 

“Thanks Clau. Really, thank you.” You said, reaching out to squeeze her arm, before stepping out of the car. It was all you could manage right now, but you hoped it got your point across. 

It did. And even though tears welled in Claudia’s eyes on the way home, and she clung to Patri’s hand rather tightly, she was glad she’d spoken up. It was what she’d needed to hear all those months ago, and she hoped that it would make things easier for you. 

-----

You were curled up on the floor near your couch when you made the decision. Tremors were wracking your whole body, and you had been crying for so long that your chest hurt. It seemed that everything had caught up with you, but the breaking point had been the message from your national team coach, reminding you, again, to think of the team, and to stay out of the public eye until your visible injuries healed. There was no please, no thank you. It was just assumed that you’d do it. That really got you; that you’d been pliant for them for so long that they didn’t doubt that you’d go along with whatever they told you to. 

You just felt so alone, and so scared. So incredibly scared. It was this fear that had you reaching for your phone. You couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t keep it all in. You couldn’t tell another lie, and you didn’t want to. You just wanted someone to come and tell you that everything was going to be okay. You wanted someone to protect you, in the way you should have been protected this whole time. 

There were people that you trusted to do this for you, and you’d lost all the strength to deny yourself the comfort and the care you ached for. 

The phone had barely rung once before it was picked up. 

“Nena? Are you okay?” Alexia asked softly. 

“No,” you replied, your voice barely more than a sob. 

“Oh, cariño. What can I do?” 

“Come over, please. I can’t do this alone anymore.” You gasped out, wiping harshly at the tears streaming down your face. 

“I am on my way, pequeña, okay? Just sit tight, Mapi and I will be there in a few minutes.” 

“Okay,” you said miserably. You hung up the phone, curling up against the side of the couch once again, muffling your cries in the cushions next to you. It felt like you might never stop crying. 

-----

The sight that Alexia and Mapi were met with when they walked through your front door wasn’t one they ever wanted to see again. 

You were curled in on yourself on the floor, gasping and clawing at your chest as you cried, looking so panicked, and so terrified, neither of them were very confident that they’d be able to help you. Alexia was at your side in an instant, physically pushing your coffee table out of the way so she could crouch down next to you, and pull you into her arms. 

“Okay, okay. It’s alright. You are safe, nena, I promise you.” She murmured, allowing you to hide your face in her neck. You were still trembling, still sobbing, when Mapi sat down next to the two of you, looking helplessly at her captain. 

You couldn’t speak, even though you kind of wanted to. You were so overwhelmed and so exhausted, the only thing keeping you from really dissolving into an irreversible state of panic being Alexia’s arms around you, and her and Mapi’s voices in your ear. 

They promised, over and over, that you’d be safe, that they’d keep you safe. You supposed the only way they’d be able to do this was if you told them everything. And even though it terrified you to do so, the thought of going back to camp next break like nothing had happened was paralyzing. 

You had to trust Alexia and Mapi. You didn’t think you’d be able to keep going if you didn’t trust them, if you didn’t let them in. You resolved to talk, to be honest, as soon as you were able. As soon as you stopped crying. You weren’t sure when that would be, honestly, because it didn’t seem like you were calming down at all. For now, you gripped Mapi’s hand, focused on the feeling of Alexia’s hand on your back, and willed yourself to be calm. They had you. They’d keep you safe. 

----- 

[rottenpumpkin13]

Cloud's small hand wrapped around his mother's finger as he babbled. Claudia laughed, burying her nose in his soft blond hair and nuzzling him gently. "Happy first birthday," she whispered.

-

Cloud’s second birthday was marked by excited squeals when he saw the brightly colored toy train his mother presented him. “Tain!” he exclaimed as Claudia set it in his lap, laughing as she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Happy birthday, my darling.”

-

“Cloud!” Claudia laughed on the afternoon of Cloud's third birthday, watching the excited toddler dig his fist into his chocolate birthday cake and happily grab the candle between his messy fingers. “You're not supposed to do that!”

-

“Why is it raining today?” four-year-old Cloud huffed, upset as he sat by the window and watched the early August rain hammer against the glass. “I wanna go outside!”

“Think of the rain as a birthday gift!” his mother called back from the kitchen. “Now you can go out and play in the mud!”

Cloud grinned, lighting up as he leapt off the chair and bolted outside. It was going to be a good birthday indeed.

-

Claudia gifted him a small, blue backpack for his fifth birthday, perfect for his first day at the schoolhouse the following week. “I like it!” Cloud declared, slipping the backpack on.

-

“Woah!” Cloud mused as he ran into the kitchen on the morning of his sixth birthday. There, a wooden sword with a red bow tied around its hilt sat waiting for him. “It's exactly like a SOLDIER’s, right mom?”

-

Cloud's seventh birthday was somber as he sat alone with a small cake his mother made. None of the village kids showed up for his party.

-

“I wonder what Sephiroth did on his eighth birthday,” Cloud wondered aloud as he hung the poster his mother had gifted him on his bedroom wall.

-

“Hey!” Tifa waved to him as he was going back into the house after playing. Cloud blushed, self-consciously wiping away the dirt from his clothes. “H-Hey!” he called back.

Tifa smiled. “Happy birthday!” she said. “Nine is a big age!” And then she dipped back into her own house. Cloud sighed. Not big enough to join SOLDIER.

-

“Maybe everyone's just late,” his mother, ever the optimist, suggested on the evening of his tenth birthday. It was nine. Everyone was supposed to be there at six. Cloud shook his head, ripping off his party hat and looking at the cake his mother had baked with a mix of guilt and nausea.

“No, mom. They're just not coming.”

-

Cloud started his eleventh birthday by measuring himself on the door frame. “Aw, man” he groaned, stepping back to see that his height had not changed from the previous year.

-

Cloud spent the evening of his twelfth birthday on the water tower, looking up at the stars, wondering what it would be like to touch them, hearing the soft sounds of the piano drifting from Tifa’s room. It was the birthday he decided to stop trying to make birthdays special.

-

On his thirteenth birthday, Cloud's mother gave him a suitcase. “Woah,” Cloud mused, impressed as he picked it up, weighing it for size. “Mom, are you serious?”

Claudia smiled softly. "For the journey ahead," she said, pulling him into a hug.

-

Fourteen was the age Cloud stopped wishing for material possessions for his birthdays. He wanted only three things: to finally join SOLDIER, a friend, and to take care of his mother.

-

Cloud's fifteenth birthday gift was given to him early that morning, with chaos and laughter giving way into the moment his squad mates woke him up. They grabbed him out of his bed and dragged him into a cold shower. He pretended to laugh, to enjoy the seemingly harmless prank, but inside he was mortified. And now very cold.

-

On his sixteenth birthday, Zack handed Cloud a cupcake with a single, flickering candle. Cloud hadn't been expecting it, but he should've figured something was up the minute Zack walked up to him with his arms behind his back, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"What did you wish for?" Zack asked the minute Cloud blew out the flame.

Cloud huffed. “As if I'd tell you.”

“Hey!” Zack laughed, punching him playfully. “Don't forget, you can't talk to me like that anymore. I'm the adult here—eighteen trumps your sixteen!”

Cloud laughed with him, staring down at his cupcake. He wished all birthdays would be like this.

-

Cloud wasn't awake for his seventeenth birthday. Hojo's calculating gaze scrutinized him through the glass of the mako tank.

-

Eighteen came with a metaphorical slap to the face. "Subject approximately eighteen,” Hojo muttered, observing Cloud in his cell. Cloud's sense of time was warped. Zack was eighteen too, wasn't he?

-

Cloud was strapped to a table on his nineteenth birthday. The lab was filled with the sound of his screams.

-

On his twentieth birthday, Cloud watched through the mako tank as Zack was subjected to a torment familiar to him—strapped to the table, enduring agony under a knife, his screams piercing the air. Cloud couldn't do anything.

-

Cloud's twenty-first birthday passed in a haze as he lay comatose. But Zack was determined. He pulled him closer in the back of the truck they had hitched a ride in. "Happy birthday, buddy,” Zack whispered, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

-

On his twenty-second birthday, Cloud stood motionless as Tifa hugged him tightly. "Happy birthday!” she said, holding enough excitement within her to last him a lifetime. Twenty-two, he kept repeating in his mind. Was he really twenty-two already?

-

Cloud spent the early hours of the morning on his twenty-third birthday staring into a bathroom mirror. He traced his fingers over his face, looking at every line, every scar, his hair, his nose, everything. It was so strange. This was the age Zack was when he died.

-

On his twenty-fourth birthday, Cloud sat beside the Buster Sword, tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry," he sobbed quietly. He was now older than Zack would ever be.

[ethan-acfan]

Desmond head canons (with a few non desmond head canons thrown in) (I love desmond and all non-desmonds equally I swear)

Desmond once came out of the animus and tried to greet the others, but he couldn't figure out which language to use, so for about 5 minutes, he cycled through different languages trying to find the right one before just giving up.

Ezio has chronic pain from climbing buildings because he never learned the correct way to climb them, nor the correct stretches to stop the pain

Haytham once convinced Connor to come with him to a tavern, Connor ended up getting drunk and zoning out for 30 minutes before putting his head down and silently crying in the corner

Connor never processed his mom's death because after she died, he had to rebuild the village, then he had to learn to fight, then he had to worry about his villages safety, etc. So he never processed it

Altair and desmond suffer from migraines and not the "my head hurts" migrans I'm talking the ones that cause you to black out for a minute and get sick

Altair once was learning to do a leap of faith, but while it was being explained, he accidently turned on his eagle vision and nearly freaked out (his dad had to take him home right after and explain what Altair was seeing)

After a few days of reliving ezios' memories, desmond started to gravitate towards Shaun because (just like Leo) Shaun smells like books

Altair has the stupidest sense of humor

Ezio collected cats, Altair collected birds, connor collected dogs/ wild animals, and now all animals are just drawn to desmond

Desmond once fist fought a gang leader *and won.* He also got the leaders' respect. (Being a bartender in Manhattan does things to you)

Desmond with adhd

Connor doesn't like walking into new places without being able to scope out the area first

DESMOND WITH ADHD

Altair has severe attachment issues, so bc of this, he distances himself as much as possible, so he doesn't get attached

Desmond got into an argument with Bill and got so frustrated that he started talking in native American without realizing Bill then said something snarky and desmond snapped in a perfect native America accent. "Haytham, you are unbelievable"

Desmond can control his ancestors' ratatouille style

When there is a time jump in the animus (for example, the time jumps in the training montage in monteriggioni), it's super disorienting for desmond bc he gets the memories of his ancestor but if he focuses on them he can't remember them

Desmond once cried for an hour in his room bc he couldn't remember Rebecca's name when he came out of the animus

Desmond nearly attacked Bill on multiple occasions because his bleeds made him appear to be a Templar (Bill is no longer allowed near desmond as he is getting out of the animus)

While they were in the temple, a bear wandered in, and everyone freaked out, but desmond just helped the bear find its way back to his mom (they now get random prey left outside of the temple)

One time, desmond tried to reach for a throwing knife before realizing he dosent have throwing knives, and he nearly died, lol

Desmond called Rebecca Claudia once, and she never forgot it

I have so many more, but I don't feel like typing them out rn

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

since it's pride month, i want to highlight my favorite underrated/underappreciated queer characters and ships! (part 1/???)

(feel free to add more!)

Lake - Infinity Train (non-canon)

it's not canon but you cannot tell me that Lake isn't an allegory for trans/nb people. her arc is so beautiful and her character resonates with me so much!

i have to admit, i actually kinda hated her in the beginning because of how aggressive and rude she was, but she actually gets good character development and you can also understand why she was the way she was, being a good representation of a minority who is constantly suffering because of the social norms she’s forced into. also i don’t ship her with jesse but i do like the idea of them in a qpr or just being platonic besties.

(i use she/her pronouns for Lake because that's what they use in the series, but also because not all non-binary people use they/them, and it's kinda weird to see people insist on using they/them for Lake just because she's nb-coded. she has never shown an aversion to bring referred to with she/her pronouns.)

Le Chevre x El Topo - Carmen Sandiego (canon)

they are side characters who don't play a huge role in the narrative but they are a really cute couple and have been confirmed to be canon! even without the confirmation, it’s clear that they were written to be a romantic couple.

mild spoiler: after the series ends, they stop being antagonists and instead put up a food truck together! it’s the cutest thing, i swear

Ryan x Min-gi - Infinity Train (non-canon)

my OTP through and through! i say non-canon but the romance is so heavily implied, you cannot ignore it.

they're a good example of childhood friends who had a complicated relationship where both individuals did something wrong, but in the end, they grow as people and manage to mend their relationship together.

Moomin x Snufkin - Moominvalley (canon)

i have only read one of the books and watched a few clips of these two characters but from that alone, it's clear that they were written as lovers (and the author is queer too!)

they are a beautiful portrayal of long-distance relationship where both individuals have different needs in life, but still want to be with each other regardless.

Terrestrius / Terry - The Dragon Prince (canon)

Terry is canonically transmasc and they actually manage to explain this in the series, without making it sound too forced or expository. he's such a sweetheart too, and his relationship with Claudia is actually really sweet, despite the fact that she's one of the villains.

Carmen x Julia - Carmen Sandiego (non-canon)

again, i say non-canon but it is heavily implied that they have feelings for each other, especially in the extra interactive episode, where Carmen leaves a bouquet of red roses for Julia, and Julia is shown to blush when receiving them.

Amaya x Janai - The Dragon Prince (canon)

what’s that? it’s actually possible to write an enemies to lovers romance that is healthy and not extremely abusive?

Amaya and Janai have such a good relationship in S5 (and Amaya is also a great disabled representation!) Janai actually learns sign language to communicate with Amaya, and there are no unnecessary miscommunication plots or drama, they’re just a really loving wlw couple.

Benson x Troy - Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts (canon)

when i say we need more mlm ships in animated media!! i’m so glad us sapphics are getting a lot of representation but it’s time cartoons started including more queer men.

benson and troy are just a really sweet couple with a good relationship that doesn’t have a ton of pining or unnecessary angst. while i love complex and tragic queer relationships, i also think that it’s good to show teenagers just being teenagers sometimes.

this opinion seems to be scarce in the queer community, which really annoys me tbh.

Raine x Eda - The Owl House (canon)

i cannot believe that given the popularity of TOH, Raeda is still such an overlooked ship. this might be an unpopular opinion but Raeda is better written and has more chemistry than Lumity and Huntlow.

just within the span of Raine's introductory episode, they managed to establish a clearly romantic past between these two characters, and also an interesting dynamic. and even though they didn't have much screentime, they still turned out to be the best ship in the series. (again, just my opinion, don't come at me)

i think it's so important to show older queer people in media, just as it is important to show younger queer characters. it helps establish the fact that queerness has always existed and isn't some newfound trend that social media invented. not to mention, raeda is one of the very few canon ships that include a non-binary character.

[cbrownjc]

I too think Claudia's sexual assault by Bruce did happen. However, I DO think there is an aspect regarding what motivated her to come back home after that assault that is being hidden.

And that is that it was after the assault that Claudia fully decided on her plan that we read about in the book Merrick -- which is to pit Louis and Lestat against each other for her own benefit.

See, one of book!Claudia's issue was that, because she was turned at such a young age (5 years old) there was absolutely no way she could ever hope to venture out and find more of her kind -- which she desperately wanted to do -- without someone looking after her. And so between the two fathers that she hated for her predicament, she chose Louis over Lestat because Louis would be more "malleable" between the pair of them, and worked to drive a wedge between them so she could kill Lestat with Louis loyal to her.

And I think the same thing is true when it comes to tv!Claudia.

Because she was 14 years old when she was turned, going off on her own wasn't hard. She could travel alone on her own because, when it came to humans, she could look after herself.

But what Bruse showed her was that she couldn't look after herself when it came to other vampires. Against other immortals, she was no match; she wasn't strong enough because she had been made too young. She would need a stronger vampire by her side if she was ever to accomplish what she wanted to do, which was find other vampires like herself, but also be protected from those she finds who may be like Bruce.

Because even after Bruce, Claudia still didn't think all vampires could be like him -- or like Lestat.

Anyway, so I think Claudia came back to New Orleans with part of the Merrick plan already in her mind -- Louis was the more "malleable" of the two of them. Or, at the very least, Louis was the one she decided she had an easier chance of manipulating into going along with her plan to leave and find other vampires.

And I think, after the assault, that is a plan she wrote out in her diary -- likely the same diary Louis ripped the pages out of regarding the assault.

Trying to convince Louis to leave with her was, in fact, the very first thing she did after she walked back in the door of the Rue Royal house and reunited with Louis again. The fight in EP05 started because of Claudia's plan, her trying to manipulate Louis into coming with her.

But that the fight was when Claudia realized there was a huge flaw to her plan because she never knew how much of his power Lestat had been keeping from both of them until that fight. And leaving with Louis to protect her was not going to be as simple as she had likely thought it could be.

I think the pages where Claudia wrote about her plan to do this -- split Louis from Lestat and have him come with her for protection -- were taken out of the diary by Armand.

Just like Armand was likely the one who took out a lot of other pages from her other diaries -- all of which I suspect are pages that have Claudia not only talking about her hatred for both Louis and Lestat for what they did to her but also her growing plans to leave to find other vampires and then, after the SA, to go get and keep Louis by her side for protection in order to do so. And as time went on, that plan not only included trying to pit Louis and Lestat against each other, but finally killing Lestat in order to do it -- and getting Louis to help her do it.

The last part of that plan more than likely backfired on her however, given the flashes we see in the final episode of Louis' real memories of murder night: one of which was Louis screaming in pain as he held Lestat's body in his arms; and the other one being him grabbing Claudia by the neck and pushing her up against a wall in order to stop her from burning Lestat's body in the incinerator.

So yeah, I think that is what is being hidden when it comes to the SA -- that it was after it that Claudia began her plan that matches up with the one we find out Claudia in the books began plotting and that we find out about in the book Merrick. Louis ripped out the SA pages, but I'm better there are pages right after it that Armand removed as well, and Claudia writing out this plan, and it being the real reason she came after leaving is what those pages contained.

Claudia, even though she hated Louis for what he did to her, kept trying to get Louis to choose her by manipulating situations to break Louis and Lestat apart because she needed a stronger vampire by her side to protect her in her search for other immortals.

All of Claudia's plans to attempt to do this started right after her assault by Bruce. She didn't come back to stay, she didn't come back because she missed Louis. She came back to get Louis not because she loved him more, but because he was the one she felt would be easier to manipulate into coming with her. The one who was more "malleable."

(But Louis, true to form, always, always, chose Lestat over her. And her hatred of him only grew as he kept doing so.)

Do you think the SA of Claudia could be a misdirect? Not that it didn't happen, but it does occur in her diaries right around the time (iirc) she would be writing the pages that set Louis off in the books. SA brings about such a strong emotional reaction in us, it's easy for us to believe it must be the only thing written about on those torn-out pages, when it could very well be that the attack cemented her hatred against her makers and she went on to write about her plans directly after.

Mhhh.

I get what you mean but I do not think they would add that element to void it later.

For that it is too prevalent in the chronicles. This will be a theme. A discussion. One of the things that will be discussed.

That said, there are other ... lets say angles to "Killer" in "Prince Lestat", and it will be interesting how and where the hooks they planted will be taken up again. Because Killer's maker is definitely an interesting figure, and one I cannot really place yet. But there is a high chance that he will be someone important.

As per her hatred for Louis and Lestat - I alluded to that in the previous ask - but of course the pain she had to experience in the "American hinterlands", and the sheer fact that she experienced some of what Lestat tried to protect her from... had to fuel her anger. And I can understand that. It's bitterness, and hurt, and despair. Because with that event came realization. Reality, settling in.

Some of those realizations Louis will still arrive at in season 2. And they will be just as bitter, unfortunately.

[sunshine-theseus]

Inside and Out | Aitana Bonmati x Reader

Words: 1.7k Summary: you weren't a cheerful or outgoing person but Aitana has plans to change that. - I'm back! sorry for delays Warnings: apologies, once again probably poor Spanish. request for - @realsociadadferminofan

People were often afraid of me upon first glance. You come to expect it when you’re covered in tattoos and rather buff, my resting face rather unhappy. It doesn’t mean it hurt any less when I try to talk to someone, and they went running for the hills. So I became the person everyone expected me to be; grumpy and lonely.

Until her.

Aitana was the epitome of sunshine. Smiling and full of life, welcoming people wherever she went. That’s exactly how she greeted me on my first day as Barcelona’s fitness coach. No one else bothered to approach me until Jonatan introduced us but as soon as Aitana saw me, she had her hand out for me to shake and asking how I’m doing, smiling brightly up at me.

I tried to keep up the ‘dark and broody’ demeaner for as long as I could around her, but she made it so hard. Every day before training she’d come in with that same smile, like sun beaming through the clouds, and would start up a conversation. In the beginning I replied with brief answers to get her to leave as soon as possible. Once I realised she wasn’t giving up anytime soon, I warmed up to it. Even going as far as looking forward to the daily meeting.

“Bon día!” She comes bounding into the gym, at exactly 9am as usual (after she learnt I love routine).

Other people mill around us, but we don’t notice as we begin to talk, occasionally attracting their eyes when we laugh too loud.

“Joder! Voy a llegar tarde al entrenamiento.” I’m left to smile affectionately as the Catalan makes a run for the locker room to get ready. (fuck! I’m going to be late to training).

I quickly make the decision I need to ask her out, fawning over her from a distance was not working out like I’d hoped. Completely ditching the gym plan I was scheming; I begin to make a list of things I know she likes. Instantly removing football off the list, I eventually land on a picnic at a lookout. The sunsets have been spilling pockets of warmer colours and casting a golden glow upon the city, I want to see that with her.

When the time for Barcelona Femení to walk through the gym doors comes, I grow nervous. Making a plan was all well and good but executing it was much harder than it seemed.

Making sure everyone has enough water and had a good lunch, it’s hard to keep my eyes off Aitana. Her sleeves are rolled up after spending time in the sun and her shorts are similarly so. The muscles that are normally so softly defined, prominently flexing as she makes her way over to some weights and begins lifting.

“If you keep staring she’s going to think you’re insane.” Claudia whispers in my ear as I help her fix her stance.

“Shut up, I’m not staring. Just… making sure she’s doing the right thing.” The younger girl chuckles and continues her reps while I try desperately to distract myself.

It continued to prove harder than expected. Every bicep curl, lunge, bicycle rep, my eyes drifted to her. The way beads of sweat dripped down her face and over the divots and hills of muscle that never seemed to stop flexing. The way her head tilted back as she chugged water. The laugh that echoed through the gym when Keira tried to speak Spanish or told an English joke she didn’t quite understand but found funny none the less.

The last of which did spark a jealousy deep in the pit of my stomach that I had to push down as I helped the other girls. Eventually I had to excuse myself to “take a call”, rushing to my car to bang my head against the wheel to try and knock some sense back into myself.

Jona, coming back from his late lunch with his wife and kid, knocks on my window in concern. I jump in surprise as he questions me.

“Estás bien? Qué ocurre?” the muffled voice is comforting none the less. (are you okay? What’s wrong?)

“Estoy enamorado pero tengo miedo de decir cualquier cosa. Y no puedo pensar en nada más” I groan and slump back in my driver’s seat. (I’m in love but I’m afraid to say anything. And I can’t think of anything else)

“Ahhh Aitana.” A smile spreads across his face and I flush red.

“How do you know?”

“She broke your dark and broody appearance. Only someone in love would allow their disguise to stripped away.”

“Well what about her? How does she feel?”

“Hard to tell. She’s always such a kind soul. But she’s never been so adamant in getting close to someone, so the chances are high. She risks being late every day to talk to you.”

“Qué? She shouldn’t do that.”

“But she’ll continue to.” The coach leaves with a smile and a skip in his step as he goes to overlook the team I’m currently supposed to be training.

I wipe the sweat off my palms, check my forehead in the rearview mirror to make sure there isn’t a mark from the wheel, and make my way back inside. I take to my usual spot in the corner, arms crossed, displaying the muscles that tend to scare away most, and yell orders across the room. If Aitana was risking her work for me, I’d simply stop allowing it. No more lingering conversations, no more daily meetings at 9am. No more anything. Back to my old self, for her.

That plan didn’t last long.

~~~~~

“Bon día!” the Catalan makes her usual cheerful entrance at exactly 9am, but I don’t even look up at her as I reply with a simple “morning.”

“Estás bien?”

“Mmhm.” I can picture the frown that adorns her face. Eyebrows pinched together and the corners of her mouth downturned, an expression that should never appear on such a ray of sunshine.

“Talk to me. What’s wrong?” Aitana pulls out the chair parallel from me and sits.

“I’m busy, you’ll be late.” There’s a pregnant pause and I can almost hear the cogs turning in her head. I hadn’t been this blunt toward her since we first met.

“I always make it to training on time, even when our conversations last longer than normal. You haven’t had a problem with it before.” It’s hard to fight her when she’s right.

“But I will be late today if you don’t talk to me. In fact I’ll miss all of training, sitting in this chair, waiting for you. I’ll always wait for you mi quiera.” I pause and let out a sigh, leaning back in my chair and finally looking into the chocolate brown eyes in front of me.

“There’s this girl… she’s so amazing and kind and she made me lower my guard when no one else could. She didn’t stop until I crumbed. She’s always there for me. I really like her Ai, but I don’t know if she likes me back.” Another silence follows but I watch as the stoic expression blooms into a toothy grin.

“Sí, she likes you very much.”

“Would she like to go on a date with me?”

“Sí.”

Despite the simplicity of the conversation in comparison to how I’d originally planned it, I feel myself grow giddy, a word I do not use lightly for myself.

“I’ll pick you up at 5pm? Nothing too fancy.” Aitana nods and bids me goodbye, heading to training as I try and fail to focus on today’s session plan once again.

-

As promised, I pull up to Aitana’s small apartment building at exactly 5pm, finding her waiting out front. A peach linen singlet and white denim shorts adorn her body, black sandals comfortably on her feet.

“Hola! You look cute.” She’s confident in her statement as she slips into my passenger seat.

“Thank you. You look beautiful, as always.” I barely catch the dusting of blush that brightens her cheeks momentarily.

“Where are we going mi quiera?”

“It’s a surprise.” I lean my arm on the centre consol, simply a comfort measure, but Aitana slips her arm beside it and fixes her hand in mine.

“Everything is a surprise with you.” I simply hum in content and continue the drive.

I try to distract her any time we approach a sign with the name on it, pointing out things that weren’t there or cracking jokes only she would laugh at now she understands my humour.

“Mirador Sirriá?! This is like the best lookout in Barcelona! I’ve heard the sunsets are so pretty from here, but I’ve never seen with my own eyes.” She rambles as I find a spot to park. It’s relatively deserted for how popular it is, but I can’t complain.

“The best sunset for the best girl.” I tease as I hop around to her side to open the door.

“That was cheesy.” Aitana giggles as she follows me to the boot, grabbing the picnic blanket and basket of snacks for us to enjoy.

“A picnic? Aye you have a way to my heart.” She helps me lay down the blanket and takes a seat.

“No tenía ya una camina hacia tu corazón?” I let out a fake gasp as I set the food down in front of us. (I didn’t already have a way to your heart?)

We begin to eat and talk, laughing until our bellies ache as the sun sets behind the Barcelona skyline. The air starts to feel fresh and the orange hue that casts down on us makes Aitana seem ethereal.

“Hermosa.” I whisper and she turns her head. Her eyes seem to glow in the light.

I tuck a hair that flies into her face behind her ear and cup her cheek.

“You’re so beautiful, inside and out. I would still be an angsty, cruel, unhappy fitness instructor you all hated if you didn’t force me out of my shell. Thank you.” I barely finish my sentence before her lips are on mine. It’s a feverish kiss but still full of love and adoration.

My other hand grabs her waist as both hers fist my shirt. We don’t stop until air is no longer travelling to our lungs.

“I couldn’t let the grumpy, unhappy trainer stay that way. You’re too beautiful not to feel loved, inside and out.” I bump my nose against Aitana’s and smile one of the biggest smiles I ever have.

“Te amo.”

“Te amo.”

[gregrulzok]

Analyzing Interview with the Vampire is fun because going down one train of thought often leads me to a totally separate conclusion. Let me take you on the same journey I went through, real quick:

I started off thinking about the whole Claudia As a daughter vs. As a sister thing. I mean, it makes enough sense why she'd want to stop being their daughter so she could finally feel equal to at least Louis, if not Lestat.

But it's not that simple - she specifically requests to be called their sister after she witnesses Grace "bury" Louis. She even comments that she wasn't meant to be Louis' daughter, and that she was MEANT to be his sister. What's the significance here?

Louis specifically wanted a daughter when they made Claudia. Or rather, he proposed she be a daughter - Louis wasn't asking for a sister, in fact he HAD a sister and, at the time, at least some sort of relationship with her (albeit a tense one). If Claudia was meant to be a replacement for Grace, surely there have to be some connections between the two?

Well, there aren't. Grace's presence in the show is fairly understated, and they don't parallel Claudia almost at all - Louis and Grace are close at first, drift away slowly, Louis never struggles with her growing up, never feels like he has to take care of her, never feels bound to her like he does Claudia.

But... He does feel that way about Paul.

Paul, like Claudia, was fragile and needed care and attention. Paul, like Claudia, was chained to Louis. While he was alive, Louis was closest to Paul, and took care of him.

(And after all, both characters share a bird motif and the allusion to jumping off a high place to their deaths (and these things were put on Claudia, forced on her like a costume. Traits associated with Paul grafted onto Claudia)).

So, okay. Claudia isn't Grace, she's Paul - the reason the revelation comes to her after Grace abandons Louis is just because she never met Paul and had no way of understanding his and Louis' relationship.

In lieu of Paul, Louis is now taking care of Claudia - she's the family he has to look after, and therefore gives him purpose, and therefore chains him and restricts his freedom.

And all of this makes the lines where Louis cries to Lestat and laments never having a family of his own even more interesting, because... What family? Louis wasn't married, wasn't seeing anyone, wasn't even vaguely interested in having a family.

Had Lestat not come around, would Louis have gotten married? Had children? Does he really believe he would have, when the only woman he even shows a vague interest in is a prostitute he sometimes visits? When he all but laughs off the idea of marriage when Paul brings it to his attention?

No, Louis wouldn't have gotten married. He wouldn't have gotten anyone to take care of - because he already HAD someone to take care of. He was taking care of Paul. He couldn't, wouldn't have gotten married and had kids - not just because he was gay, but because if he had, and he moved out, what would have happened to Paul?

When he's lamenting no longer having a family, and being unable to have a family, he's lamenting the loss of Paul, and he's lamenting that now he has to leave an eternity without him, without anything to fill the void. He threw away his chance at marriage and kids for the sake of a man that he now has to spend eternity without.

...

And.

What if Paul was conscious of this?

On that rooftop, what if, on some level, Paul realized that he was holding his brother back from living a full life. When he urged Louis to get married and got immediately dismissed, what if he realized, or knew all along, the role he played in that dismissal, that decision?

...

What if Paul killed himself because he thought he was holding Louis back?

[murfpersonalblog]

Claudia's Celebration of Life: Spark in the Dark - Lines & Scenes

As the title suggests, this event is to celebrate the wonderful Claudia; her personality, her aspirations, her journey. The heart for the past two seasons of AMC Interview with The Vampire. This is to take the narrative back to her, proving she's not just a shingle roof for us. 8. Aug 25th & 26th: Favorite lines or scenes

This was REALLY hard. She's never done anything wrong in her entire life, your honor! Anyone who says otherwise can kick bricks.

1: "Oh I forgot! Love makes you STUPID! Make you fickle, and weak, and blind!... PICKED ANOTHER ONE, OVER ME!" Hearing her yell that in the first trailer had me gagged. I knew right then that Delainey was gonna kill it; perfectly depicting Claudia's PAIN, sick of being the shingle on their roof, caught in "the stormy romance of YOU TWO!" (Honorable Mention #1).

2: "I now know all your faces. If there is an afterlife, I'm gonna come back and f*****g KILL all of you. And if there isn't an afterlife, I'm still gonna find a way!" My daughter, ladies & gentlemen. 👸🏾

3: "Please, come with me! Let's meet vampires WORTHY of your love!" One of the most underrated & important lines in the whole dang show. Lestat wasn't worthy of Louis yet. Unworthy in NOLA, unworthy in Paris--disregard!

4: The park bench scene in 1x6 is so freaking sweet, she loved her Daddy Lou so much. But she knew there was no way she'd survive with that monster Lestat; and she knew Lou'd never leave him. (Honorable Mention #2: "You should've let that train go, Uncle Les!")

5: Claudia clowning Lestat in 1x7 effing SENT me, omg, that's my daughter. In S3 hope he hears her mocking wheezes in his dreams.

6: The look on her FACE as she realizes the fix she's in with the coven. I wanted to effing cry. DOOMED by the narrative. U_U

7: Claudia's "Massa Lestat" added years to my life! She said this Ku Klux Klan member better stop playing with me!

8: "Who are you, Louis?" Kids say the darndest things. She clocked his whole life in S2, knowing good and dang well he wasn't her effing "brother" & she wasn't his "sister;" she was just a placeholder until he was back with Lestat. (Honorable Mention #3: "If he can't take you ballroom dancing and tell you you're pretty, to hell with him!" 💀)

9: She was NOT 👏 HAVING 👏 IT 👏 with Antoinette. (Honorable Mention #4: "If that's the kind of desperate trash he wants to love, then let him have her!" Jfc, Claudia. 😅)

10: Claudia killing Madeleine's rapists was so dang good. I did NOT expect the vampire reveal to go that way, oml. The hype was real though, I was cheering and whooping the whole time.

[skywalkerrenthusiast]

Plz plz plz someone talk to me about how Lestat dragged claudia back home the same way his dad dragged him back home. I've been thinking about Claudia a lot because of the newest ep -and also because she's my bby girl- and I also rewatched season one, it hit me like a train but by God does the cycle of toxicity in the family go on.

Lestat left, he was almost free and his dad swooped in and stole that from him. Dragged him back to where he was unhappy to maintain some kind of fucked up family quo and then Lestat does the same thing later by dragging claudia back home because he knows that even though louis told her to leave that he'd just be miserable.

And lestat doesn't wanna go through the last seven years again! So he drags her back to keep their fucked up, has already fallen apart little family fantasy going for just a bit longer. (A small part of me does wonder if maybe he also did it because he knows what claudia would find in Europe or I guess it's more like who would find her. But thats just an idea I'm chewing on. Lestat is FAR FAR FAR from perfect and there are so many ways he could of done better with and by claudia but at the end of the day she was his child and they did have some years of peace and I stand by the fact that he DID love her. He just has no idea how to stop being his parents child.)

AHHHH SOMEONE RELEASE ME FROM THE FATHER(MOTHER)-DAUGHTER BRAIN WORMS THEY GIVE ME!!!!

[sulfies]

I'm curious to hear what your Altair and Ezio think of The Farm, should Desmond tell them about it!

I dont think my hc Desmond would outright talk about it unless they ask, but the other two would figure out bits from their convos.

Like Ezio would talk about big family dinners and how noisy it was and how he kinda misses it and Desmond would be like "Must be nice, my meals were mostly silent and quick" just bits and slips that hint on how isolated his childhood was. He maybe doesnt even realize how fucked up some things he says are.

I do love when in fics authors make it so Desmond was trained harder than anyone, but I find it funny that Canon Desmond barely had any idea wtf Assassins were or how they work till he got kidnapped, so maybe he talks about smthn and goes like "ooooh so thats why I had to do that *incredibly dangerous* thing as a kid"

Once they did learn/figure out tho,

Altair: would probobly be the person who understood the most since he grew up as a Assassin too, even tho his childhood was also crazy, I think he would almost Pity Desmond bc atleast he had a good father for a bit and the Assassins in Maysaf were still a community and not isolated from the town. Probobly would open up first about himself to get Desmond to talk about it but it might backfire a bit w desmond saying "oh god I got no right to complain their parents died infront of them😭"

Ezio: would be like "so u grew up with assassins whoa! Must be a huge family that has eachothers backs!" And Desmond is like 😬 "not rlly", once he learned he would be devastated, especially if its Ezio after brotherhood is established "thats not right! Its supossed to be a Brotherhood!" And just like be extra mad on his behalf and Desmond would appriciate him being loud for him. Might force him and Altair to family dinners with Maria and Claudia.

I think they would take the news of Desmond being made to genetically be a perfect cocktail of Assassins the worse out of everything and would have the "ur so much more than ur dna" group hug session

Overall I dont think they would Coddle him too much and Desmond wouldnt want to be coddled but It would strengthen their bond once he spoke about it, just regular old traumabonding

But If they ever saw Will for some rsn:

Ezio: his smile would drop as soon as he was talking or he looked towards Will, would give short answers which Will would think fo him being respectfull till Ezio disagreed with every idea he says (bad or good)

Altair: glares, silent, would use big words to show his superiority would say stuff like "oh thats what you guys do? Hmm we found that unnecesery and timewaste" "These swords? Hmm we dont use them due to bla bla bla but you do you" just find something bad about every single thing and like make jabs about it.

Bc he is sadly a Mentor they wouldnt like go punch him in the face but they would do their best to annoy him in a way he cannot call out bc thecnically they didnt do anything. And ofc they wouldnt answer any question he asked and just say "u dont know? Hmm👀"

One of them almost always would be next to Desmond even tho he would be like "omfg stop acting like guarddogs" and litterally not rlly give a shit that Will was there anymore (basically over it)

[demigoddessqueens]

First of all I just wanted to thank you for letting me know your requests were open. It makes me so happy to see people still giving Ezio the love he deserves! I don’t usually go for a lot of the more cliche lover tropes but I can’t stop thinking of Childhood best friend Ezio x reader.

What comes to mind is reader and Ezio having a strained relationship prior to his family’s execution due to readers newfound romantic feelings for Ezio and his infatuation with Christina. But once Ezio’s world is flipped on its axis after the murder of his father and brothers that he would seek reader’s help and comfort as he escapes Florence and trains to become an assassin.

I think at first he would be too shaken up and focused on revenge but after a while he would come to realize that he likes the reader. Maybe he would confess then, or perhaps after he kills Uberto.

It’s up to you to decide how you want to write all of this and what format (if you choose this request at all). You definitely don’t have to use my ideas if you don’t want to either, honestly I’d just love to see any type of Ezio x childhood best friend reader content. Thank you so so much for opening requests and for reading this 💗

Speaking my language with the Ezio angst!!! I need moar 💕💔

MASTERLIST 10

You cared for Ezio so much and it hurts. Growing up close with the Auditores was filled with the happiest memories of you, Frederico, Ezio and Claudia together, welcoming Petruccio, but your feelings always ran different with Ezio.

It left you dismayed at the unrequited feelings, and you felt your heart shatter when you heard of his late escapades of getting chased out with Christina.

Yet nothing could prepare you for the tragedy that struck when you heard of what happened to Giovanni and his two sons, your closest friends. There wasn’t time to grieve as you would have liked now that targets were on you and your family’s back, and you had to leave much of what you knew behind.

Only you didn’t expect to see Ezio at the same place of refuge at the end of things. He mentions that he was able to send a final goodbye to his father (with the help of Christina) but you ignore the pangs at your heart. You mourn along with him at the loss of the life you once knew together.

Being friends of friends (or family) of Assassins come with the perks of protection, but nothing you know of is ever the same again. Getting adjusted to your new life leads to unexpectedly wielding a blade, despite the constant wounds

Still, Ezio is there to see you grow and change as you both reach your respective milestones well into adulthood.

When Leonardo comes to see you both, it’s a much needed reprieve you didn’t realize you needed. A sense of normalcy despite all the heartbreak, and you realize how much you miss Ezio’s smile whenever you laugh at each other’s jokes.

Things feel…different. Upheavals so young and facing through them together does bring you closer. You and Ezio talk of the nightmares, seeking revenge, but try not to forget the good times as well.

In his quest against those who wronged him and his family, Ezio still thinks of you. You bring a tether and one close to him who knows what he’s feeling, going through.

There was one time you swore you felt him kiss you when you fell asleep at one of the desks, but you never brought it up since

Still, you heard of the visits he had with Christina and you didn’t think it would still affect you but jealousy works in mysterious ways. The day he lost her was the day you saw something shift in him, beyond the grief and pain from before.

He’s more urgent, stringent on whenever you go on missions or gather intel, and always wants to be by your side. Even Claudia begins to notice the change in her brother

It starts to annoy you at first, Ezio always hovering around you and whenever another person (let alone man) talks to you

“Ezio, this has gone on far too long now! Why are you always hovering near me?!”

“BECAUSE I WONT LOSE ANOTHER! Not those I CARE about!”

Speechless.

You don’t have anything to retort, especially since he still has more to say

“I’ve lost more than enough in one lifetime, and I can’t lose you too. I care for you…maybe even more than that.”

You can only hug him for now, but come the next day there’s still more to say

[her-satanic-wiles]

Kinktober Day 13 - Pregnancy

Sister Imperator x Reader

After realising just what Nihil was, Sister Imperator leaves the Ministry to go to a small Abbey down on the southern coast of France where she meets you, and she’s very pregnant.

Masterlist ⛧ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 11k.

Reading Time: 47 min.

Warnings: cunnilingus, mentions of cheating, pregnancy kink,

Taglist: @akayuki56 @alien-the-ghost @amazing-bobinsky @angellayercake @anonymous-appreciation @babydestinyinfluencer @bitchywitchygardener @blossomsea @call-me-little-sunshine84 @copiaspet622 @copiasslut @cosmixxdust @da-rulah @dolceterzo @dopey-fandom-girl @faithisyours @ghoulishxdelights @hauntedharmonic-ghoulishhaunter @high-above-the-city @howlingco @inkstainedrat @kaijukimchi @kenken-the-shoggoth @ledger-kaos @magopi @megachaoticstupid @meliza1001 @miss-leto @mommy-dust @neganwifey25-blog @piaart @saintbowie @shycardinale @sister-of-sin-claudia @sisterof-sin @sodoswitchimage @the-did-i-ask @xiyingly @zombiesnips-blog

Author’s note: Hi, all!

This turned out a lot more different (and longer) than I intended… but here we are. I kind of got a bit lost in this story and as I didn’t want to come back to it later, I thought I might as well begin and end it here. Oh… and wasn’t actually a great deal of pregnancy kink in the end. Please enjoy!

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Recommended listening: Love In The Dark - Adele.

The sea breeze was sharp but welcoming as Sister Imperator stepped off the train, her coat whipping around her in the biting wind of the southern French coast. It was a relief to stretch her legs after the gruelling, seemingly endless journey—a 6 a.m. start, boarding the early train from Rome Termini before dawn. The carriage had been old, with stiff wooden seats that groaned with every twist and turn as it crawled through the Italian countryside. Noisy and jarring, it had offered little in the way of comfort, but at least it had granted her solitude—a gift she had come to cherish now more than ever. Her journey had been punctuated by stops in Genoa, then Nice, each transfer a reminder of how far she was running, how deeply she needed to disappear. After two more trains, she finally arrived in Cassis, a town so small and quiet it felt like a dream. Compared to the suffocating halls of the Ministry, with its endless scheming and heavy shadows, this town was as foreign as it was liberating. She wasn’t sure if it would save her or bury her alive.

The cliffs rose in the distance, ominous and beautiful, their jagged edges mirroring the raw, torn feeling in her chest. The abbey, secluded and hidden, waited for her just a short walk away. The sea breeze tugged at her, its cold fingers brushing her skin like a cruel reminder of everything she was trying to leave behind. As her feet touched the platform, she felt the weight of her decisions. She was here now—there was no going back. And yet, even with the fresh air on her face and the calm that Cassis promised, doubt gnawed at her.

The twenty-hour journey had been both a blessing and a curse. In the silence of the train cars, she had been forced to relive it all. The agony of seeing the only man she had ever cared for, ever loved, buried between the thighs of another woman—another Sister of Sin, no less. The image of him, eyes dark with lust, thrusting into her, taking what was once hers, had played like a sick loop in her mind. She could still hear the Sister’s moans, wanton and triumphant, as she rode Nihil with the same wild abandon Imperator had once possessed. Once, she and Nihil had been like that—hungry for one another, insatiable in their lust and power. But that time had passed. Now, she was hardened, and he was nothing more than a stranger. The man who had once made her feel alive, like the centre of the universe, was now a vile reminder of her greatest mistake.

But it wasn’t only heartbreak that festered within her. No, it was rage. Pure, seething rage. The kind that simmered just beneath the surface, spreading like poison through her veins. He would never have her again. She would make sure of it.

Her hand drifted to the small, yet undeniable swell of her belly. Nihil’s child. The truth gnawed at her, twisting inside her as fiercely as the crashing waves below the cliffs. But she forced herself to push it down. She was here for a reason. To rebuild. To forget. And above all, to protect the secret she now carried. Her child would be the key. A weapon, even. No one could know the truth. There were already three legitimate sons bearing Nihil’s name, each one a pawn in the Ministry’s game, each one vying for the power they were promised. The cardinals surrounding Nihil—those treacherous, sycophantic men—plotted and schemed, already choosing their favourite son to inherit the Satanic throne.

A fourth child, another heir, would upset everything. And with her, it was even more dangerous. She had always been a threat in their eyes—too clever, too calculating. Too much like them. If her child were to live, to survive the ruthless power games that defined the Ministry, they would be hunted. The cardinals knew her well enough to fear what she could do, and they feared even more what her child might become. Another bastard, perhaps. But hers would be different. Hers would have true power, and she would make sure of it.

Let the cardinals keep their favourite sons and their political games. Let them play their petty power struggles. None of them would see her coming. Not until it was too late.

Satan forbid a woman should ever have true control in the Ministry. That was what they feared. But Sister Imperator had no intention of fading into the shadows—not after everything that had been taken from her. She would bide her time, just as she always had. She would survive, as she had always done. And then, when the time was right—when they had all grown complacent and arrogant—she would strike. Her child—his child—would ascend. They would take everything those pompous, self-satisfied men held dear, and she would watch with satisfaction as their carefully constructed world crumbled around them.

Revenge would be sweet. But it would require patience. The anger within her was enough to fuel her for years, if necessary. Let them scheme. Let them smirk in their dimly lit rooms, thinking they had won. She would let them believe it, for now. She had endured worse. She had been forged in fire long before they had tried to burn her.

Nihil. That man - that bastard. He would pay for what he had done. For everything. One way or another, she would make sure of it.

With a final, determined step, she began her walk towards the abbey. The wind howled behind her, but she didn’t flinch. The storm inside her was far stronger.

Her suitcase was small but weighed her down with every step, its worn leather handle digging into her palm. It was a pitiful thing, containing only the bare essentials—clothes, a few keepsakes, and the documents she needed to disappear—but it felt as though it carried the weight of the entire Ministry within it. Every step towards the abbey felt heavier than the last, as though the memories of what she had left behind were clinging to her, dragging her through the dusty streets of Cassis.

She hadn’t brought much with her. There was no need for the trappings of her old life—nothing to remind her of the man she had loved, the man who had broken her in ways she hadn’t understood until it was too late. It was as though, by shedding the layers of her past, she could escape the grip Nihil still had on her. Yet, the weight wasn’t just in her suitcase. It was in her heart. In the sharp sting of betrayal that stabbed with every breath.

She came to the Abbaye des Ombres Infernales (abbey of the Infernal Shadows) to have the baby, like a Catholic teenager sent away to keep the family from shame. This place was meant to be a refuge, a sanctuary hidden from the prying eyes of the Ministry and the cardinals who would see her child as an affront to their power. Here, she would be free from the judgments of men who deemed her too dangerous, too ambitious. Yet, as she stepped onto the grounds, a sense of foreboding settled in her gut, a reminder that secrets have a way of creeping out from the shadows.

The abbey loomed majestically against the sky, its silhouette stark and imposing against the backdrop of the darkening clouds. Built from ancient stones that had weathered centuries of storms and whispers, the abbey exuded a sense of timelessness. The gothic architecture, with its pointed arches and intricate carvings, drew the eye upward, while its tall, narrow windows seemed to gaze down with a watchful presence, framing glimpses of the turbulent sea beyond.

Gargoyles perched upon the edges of the roof, their grotesque forms both menacing and captivating, appearing as sentinels guarding the secrets held within. Ivy and wild vines clung to the stones, creeping up the walls like nature’s embrace, softening the harsh lines of the structure while also hinting at its long history.

As Imperator approached, the heavy wooden doors came into view, adorned with ironwork that hinted at both beauty and danger. They were slightly ajar, creaking softly as the sea breeze swept through the entrance, inviting yet foreboding. The courtyard beyond was a tangle of crumbling statues and overgrown gardens, remnants of a once-proud sanctuary now surrendered to time. Weeds intertwined with the stone paths, their wild growth echoing the chaos within Imperator’s heart.

The air was thick with the scent of salt and damp earth, mingling with the faint, lingering fragrance of incense. The distant crash of waves below resonated like a heartbeat, a constant reminder of the tumultuous world just beyond the abbey’s walls. Here, on the edge of the cliffs, the abbey stood defiant against the elements, a sanctuary steeped in mystery and shadow—a place where Imperator hoped to find refuge and reclaim her strength amidst the storm brewing within her.

As Sister Imperator stepped inside the Abbaye des Ombres Infernales, she was enveloped by a hushed silence that seemed to wrap around her like a shroud. The air was cool and thick with the scent of incense, mingling with the faint aroma of damp stone. Flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows along the walls, illuminating the rich, textured surfaces while leaving dark corners untouched, whispering secrets from ages past.

The entryway was adorned with tall, arched ceilings that soared above her, each curve and angle a testament to the skill of the artisans who had crafted this sanctuary. As she moved deeper into the abbey, her footsteps echoed softly on the polished stone floor, a rhythmic reminder of her solitary journey. The dimness seemed to press against her, a tangible weight that both comforted and unsettled her.

To her left, a narrow corridor led to the chapel, its heavy wooden doors slightly ajar. The soft glow of candlelight seeped through the cracks, inviting her closer. Intrigued, she stepped into the chapel, where the atmosphere shifted, becoming almost sacred. The altar stood at the far end, draped in dark fabrics that absorbed the light, while a multitude of candles flickered in reverence, their flames swaying as if in prayer. Stained glass windows adorned the walls, casting fragmented rainbows onto the stone floor, each shard of colour telling a story of faith and longing.

The chapel felt alive, filled with the echoes of prayers whispered in desperation and hope. Sister Imperator paused, allowing the silence to envelop her, grounding her amid the turmoil of her thoughts. Here, in this sacred space, she could almost imagine the weight of the world lifting from her shoulders.

Continuing her exploration, she found herself in the living quarters. Simple yet functional, the room featured a small bed draped with heavy blankets, a wooden writing desk facing the window, and a chair that seemed to invite quiet reflection. The window framed a breathtaking view of the sea, its restless waves crashing against the cliffs—a constant reminder of the turmoil that lay beyond the abbey’s walls.

As she sat at the desk, she traced her fingers over the rough surface, feeling the history embedded in the wood. The walls were bare, save for a few religious icons and symbols that seemed to watch her with solemn eyes. They were silent witnesses to her struggles, her hopes, and her fears.

She pushed her way into the chapel, fighting with the door and her suitcase. “Bonjour,” she called out, breathless from her hike. Her voice echoed back to her off the chapel walls, but as she studied the room, she found no one was in there save a statue of the Dark Lord Himself. At least He was a sight for sore eyes.

She pushed her way into the chapel, fighting with the door and her suitcase. “Bonjour,” she called out, breathless from her hike. Her voice echoed back to her off the chapel walls, but as she studied the room, she found no one was there save a statue of the Dark Lord Himself. At least He was a sight for sore eyes…

Just as she stepped further inside, the soft sound of footsteps approached from behind. Imperator turned to see a woman emerging from the shadows, her silhouette framed by the dim light filtering through the stained glass. The woman wore a simple habit, the fabric dark and modest, yet there was an air of grace about her.

“Bonjour,” the woman said, her voice smooth and melodic, tinged with a gentle warmth. “Je suis Sœur Élodie, la gardienne de l’abbaye.”

Sœur Élodie, the guardian of the abbey.

Sister Imperator took a moment to collect herself, feeling the weight of her journey in her bones. “I’m Sister Imperator,” she replied, her French laced with a slight American accent. “I’ve come to stay.”

Élodie nodded, her expression curious yet kind. “Nous vous accueillons. It is rare to have visitors here,” she said, glancing at the statue of the Dark Lord, then back at Sister Imperator. Hearing the accent, she switched to English. “You must be weary after your travels. The abbey can be a place of peace… or reflection, depending on what you seek.”

“Both, I suppose,” Sister Imperator replied, her eyes scanning the chapel once more. “I need to think… to find some clarity.”

Élodie’s gaze softened, understanding the weight behind her words. “Come,” she gestured towards a nearby bench, inviting her to sit. “Let us talk. There is much to share, and the shadows here hold many stories.”

As Imperator settled onto the worn wooden bench, she felt the heaviness of her journey begin to lift slightly, replaced by the promise of companionship and the hope of what lay ahead.

Sister Imperator settled onto the worn wooden bench, her suitcase resting heavily beside her, a reminder of the past she was desperate to leave behind. She glanced at Élodie, who regarded her with a gentle yet piercing curiosity that made her instinctively pull her shoulders back.

“Merci,” Sister Imperator said, acknowledging the invitation but keeping her distance, wary of the warmth radiating from Élodie. “I appreciate the welcome, but I’d rather keep to myself.”

Sœur Élodie nodded, her expression unwavering. “Je comprends. Many who come here seek solitude. But sometimes, sharing a burden can lighten the heart, no? What brings you to the Abbaye des Ombres Infernales?”

Imperator hesitated, weighing her words carefully. “A need for… discretion. And a chance to escape.” She kept her voice steady, revealing as little as possible, even as Élodie’s gaze bore into her.

“Discretion?” Sœur Élodie repeated, her brow furrowing slightly. “We all have our reasons. It is a place of refuge, yes, but the walls here have ears.”

Sister Imperator’s heart raced at the implication. “I’m not here to share my story,” she replied, her tone sharper than intended. “I seek only to be left alone.”

“Ah, mais pourquoi?” Sœur Élodie leaned forward, her hands clasped in her lap. “You do not have to face your demons alone. The shadows can be heavy, and it is easy to feel lost within them.”

Imperator narrowed her eyes, feeling the walls around her heart solidify further. “And what makes you think I have demons to face?”

Élodie offered a small, knowing smile. “Everyone does. It is what makes us human. We cannot escape them, but we can learn to carry them.”

“I didn’t come here for a lesson on humanity,” Sister Imperator shot back, her defensiveness rising. “I’m not looking for your understanding or compassion.”

“D’accord,” Sœur Élodie replied, her voice calm and soothing, unfazed by Imperator’s harshness. “But I am here, should you choose to speak. Sometimes, it is the simplest act of sharing a moment that can lead to understanding. Perhaps you carry more than just your suitcase.”

Sister Imperator’s grip on her suitcase tightened, her knuckles whitening. Siser Élodie’s words struck a chord deep within her, stirring a storm of emotions she had fought to keep at bay. “I’m not ready for that,” she admitted, her voice dropping. “Not yet.”

“C’est bien,” Élodie said softly. “Take your time. Just know that this place can be more than a hiding spot. It can be a home, if you let it.”

Imperator looked away, her eyes tracing the intricate designs of the stained glass windows. The flickering candlelight played tricks on her vision, casting shadows that felt familiar, yet foreign. “I don’t belong anywhere,” she murmured, more to herself than to Élodie.

“You do belong here, in this moment,” Sœur Élodie reassured her, her voice like a warm embrace. “Even the darkest night will pass, and a new dawn will break. You are not alone, Sœur Imperator.”

Imperator glanced at Élodie, searching her face for any sign of insincerity. All she found was the gentle resolve of someone who understood the burden of secrets. “Thank you,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I need to think. To figure out what comes next.”

“Of course,” Sœur Élodie replied, rising from the bench with a graceful nod. “I will be nearby if you need anything. Just remember, the shadows here can be both friends and foes.”

Élodie stood and clapped her hands, the sound echoing off the chapel walls. “Come, come. I shall take you to the abbess. She will help you more than I can. Then, I will… what do you say? ‘Get out of your hair.’”

Sister Imperator regarded Élodie with a mixture of curiosity and reluctance. “The abbess? I didn’t come here for guidance,” she replied, her tone firm, though she couldn’t quite suppress the flicker of intrigue at the mention of the abbess.

Élodie laughed softly. “Maybe you did not come for guidance, but you certainly need a room. And, we need to know you are here for your meals, non?” She held out her hand. “Come. The abbess won’t bite, unless you ask her to, of course.”

Imperator hesitated, her instincts screaming to keep her distance, to maintain the barriers she had built around herself. Yet, there was something about Sœur Élodie’s easy confidence that stirred a reluctant curiosity within her. Perhaps it was the way the light fell on the other woman’s features, casting soft shadows that hinted at the kindness lurking just beneath the surface.

“What if I refuse?” she asked, a challenge masked as a question.

Élodie shrugged, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Then you may remain here, alone, and I will have to bring you meals in secret like a wayward child. But I assure you, the abbess is not like the cardinals you may be used to. She is wise and will not judge you, I promise.”

The mention of the cardinals sent a shiver down Sister Imperator’s spine. The machinations of men cloaked in authority were nothing she cared to relive. But the idea of solitude in this unfamiliar place also filled her with unease. Perhaps she needed to engage with someone who knew this sanctuary better than she did.

With a reluctant sigh, she took Élodie’s hand. “Lead the way,” she said, her voice lacking the defiance she usually wore like armor.

“Voilà!” Sœur Élodie exclaimed, a bright smile illuminating her features. “This way, then.”

They stepped out of the chapel into the cool air, and Imperator felt a rush of trepidation mingled with anticipation. The abbey loomed ahead, a structure both foreboding and inviting. As they walked, Élodie began to speak animatedly about the abbey’s history, her voice punctuating the silence of the cloisters with snippets of laughter and anecdotes.

“…and the last abbess was a formidable woman, a true force of nature! They say she could silence a room with just a glance. But she was kind, always offering wisdom with her sharp tongue.” Élodie glanced sideways at Imperator, gauging her reaction. “You may find her quite… enlightening.”

“Or terrifying,” Sister Imperator replied dryly, her heart racing with both excitement and dread.

Élodie chuckled again, the sound warm and infectious. “Perhaps a bit of both! But you will see, she has a way of drawing out what lies hidden within. The abbess has an eye for understanding the unspoken truths.”

Imperator’s stomach tightened at the prospect. “And what makes you think I have anything worth revealing?” she asked, her guard slipping back into place.

“Everyone has a story, Sœur Imperator,” Sœur Élodie said, her tone growing more serious. “It is simply a matter of whether you are ready to share it. But you will find that the abbess is skilled in the art of listening.”

As they approached the heavy wooden door of the abbess’s chambers, Imperator felt a rush of uncertainty. What would she reveal? Would the abbess see through her carefully constructed facade?

Before she could voice her concerns, Élodie knocked lightly on the door. “Abbesse,” she called, her voice bright, “I have someone for you.”

“Entrez,” came a voice from within, rich and warm, imbued with authority.

With a deep breath, Imperator stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest. Whatever awaited her inside, she was determined to face it head-on—just as she had always done.

Months passed, and the bitter winds of winter gave way to the softer chill of spring, but the cold in Sister Imperator’s heart remained untouched. 1968 turned into 1969, and though the routines of the Abbaye des Ombres Infernales were now familiar, they offered little comfort. The quietness of the abbey, once soothing, now felt suffocating. She moved through the days with a practiced grace, settling into her new life among the nuns and acolytes, but the bitterness gnawed at her, a constant reminder of the betrayal she couldn’t forget.

Her body changed with the pregnancy, the curve of her belly growing more pronounced with each passing week. She caught sight of herself in the old, cracked mirror in her small room and felt a wave of conflicting emotions crash over her. Nihil’s child. The very thought still filled her with a toxic mixture of rage and sorrow. How had it come to this? How had she, once one of the most powerful women in the Ministry, ended up hiding in an abbey on the edge of the world, carrying the child of the man who had broken her heart?

The other sisters treated her kindly enough, but they kept their distance, sensing the storm that brewed behind her carefully guarded eyes. Even Sœur Élodie, with her light-hearted nature and occasional attempts to draw Imperator out of her shell, seemed to know when to leave her alone. There were days when Imperator would spend hours walking the cliffs, staring out at the crashing waves below, trying to drown out the haunting images of Nihil with that other Sister of Sin, their passion a cruel echo of what she had once shared with him.

The abbess, however, was a different story. Abbesse Margaux was a woman of few words, but her presence was commanding, her gaze sharp and all-seeing. She never pried, never asked questions that Sister Imperator wasn’t ready to answer, but she was always there, quietly watching, waiting for the moment when Imperator would be ready to speak.

And though Imperator resisted, there were moments—brief, fleeting moments—where she wondered if the abbess saw more than she let on. There were times when the abbess would catch her eye, a knowing glint in her gaze that made Imperator’s skin crawl with the sensation of being seen, truly seen, in a way she hadn’t been in years.

But she was far from trusting anyone here. The betrayal that had brought her to this place was still too raw, too painful. She couldn’t allow herself to open up, to show her vulnerability. Not again. The Ministry had taught her that lesson well—trust no one. The scars of those days ran deep, and even in the sanctuary of the abbey, she clung to her bitterness like a shield.

As the days turned into months, Sister Imperator found herself counting down the weeks until the baby’s arrival. Her plan was simple—give birth, recover, and then leave. Disappear, just as she had always intended. The Ministry, Nihil, the cardinals—they would never find her. She would make sure of it. And once she was gone, she would raise the child on her own terms, far from the poisonous influence of the Satanic throne and its political games.

But the bitterness lingered, an ever-present ache that clouded her thoughts. No matter how far she ran, no matter how deeply she buried herself in the solitude of the abbey, she couldn’t escape the betrayal. It was there in every quiet moment, in every whispered prayer, in the silence of the nights when the wind howled through the corridors. And it festered, like a wound that refused to heal.

She would never forgive Nihil. Not for what he had done to her. Not for what he had taken from her. And though the baby stirred inside her, a constant reminder of what she carried, her heart remained cold. She was alone in this. She had always been alone. And perhaps, that was how it was meant to be.

Sister Imperator may have settled into her new life, but the past was a shadow that followed her wherever she went. And deep down, she knew that no matter how far she ran, it would catch up with her eventually.

In all that time, she met you—someone else who had escaped the Ministry and sought solace with the Sisters of the Infernal Shadows. You had come to the abbey not out of guilt or shame, but as a rebellion against the life you once led. The Ministry had its grip on you too, though in different ways, and now you both found yourselves among the flickering candles and cold stone walls, seeking sanctuary in the unlikeliest of places.

Your paths crossed in the chapel one afternoon, the sunlight filtering through the stained glass, casting colourful patterns on the floor. Sister Imperator was lost in thought, staring at the statue of the Dark Lord, her expression distant and guarded. You approached her quietly, the soft rustle of your robe barely breaking the stillness.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” you ventured, nodding toward the statue, though your gaze was fixed on her. “He is always watching over us, I suppose.”

She turned to you, her dark eyes narrowing slightly, studying your face with suspicion. “Is that what you believe? That He cares?” Her tone was sharp, a defensive barrier she instinctively put up against anyone who dared to breach her solitude.

You held her gaze, unflinching. “I think it’s a matter of perspective. We’ve all come here for a reason. Perhaps He offers us more than we know.”

Her expression softened just a fraction, curiosity igniting a spark behind her guarded facade. “And what reason brought you here?”

You hesitated, the weight of your past heavy on your shoulders. “I was running from Nihil, too. I had to escape his grasp, his control. And all the women he could get pregnant. I thought I could find some peace among the Sisters.”

Imperator froze, surprised that you somehow knew her backstory.

“Relax,” you told her, “you’re not the only one he’s fucked and fucked over.”

Sister Imperator’s posture stiffened at your words, her dark eyes flashing with a mix of shock and defensiveness. “You don’t know anything about me,” she retorted, her voice low but taut, as if bracing for a fight.

“Maybe not everything,” you replied, taking a step closer, your voice steady and calm. “But I know enough to understand the weight you carry. Nihil leaves a trail of broken hearts and lives in his wake.”

Her expression hardened again, a flicker of anger igniting within her. “You presume to know my pain, yet you have no idea of the depths of my suffering. He took everything from me.”

“Did he?” you pressed gently, wanting her to see that you shared this bond, however tenuous it might be. “Or did you give it willingly? The Ministry, the power struggles—it’s all a game, and we were both players. The difference is that we’ve chosen to walk away.”

She regarded you with a mixture of frustration and intrigue, as if caught in a web of conflicting emotions. “Walking away doesn’t erase what’s happened. I still carry the scars.”

“Scars can be a reminder of battles fought and survived, not just wounds left to fester,” you countered, refusing to back down. “You’re here now. This is your chance to reshape your life, to find your own path.”

Sister Imperator’s gaze shifted to the stained glass, the sunlight illuminating her features in a soft glow. “And what if I don’t know how?”

“Then we figure it out together.” Your words hung in the air, thick with the weight of possibility. “You’re not alone anymore. I’m here, and the Sisters are here. We can build something new, something powerful.”

Her walls began to crumble ever so slightly, a faint glimmer of hope piercing through her hardened exterior. “And what makes you think I can trust you?”

You shrugged, a small, genuine smile breaking through your seriousness. “Trust takes time, but I won’t betray you. I know what it’s like to feel abandoned. To feel used.”

Her expression softened, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m tired of running.”

“Then stop running,” you urged, stepping even closer, closing the distance between you. “Stay. Fight with me. For what you want, for what you deserve.”

Sister Imperator studied you for a long moment, the storm within her shifting. “What if I fail?”

“Then we rise together,” you replied firmly. “We learn. We adapt. But I won’t let you fall alone. We’ll be stronger together.”

A silence fell between you, heavy with unspoken promises and shared burdens. Finally, she sighed, the tension in her shoulders easing just a touch. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Nothing worth having ever is,” you admitted. “But I believe in you. I see strength beneath that guarded exterior. Let’s unearth it together.”

Her lips curved into a tentative smile, the first sign of warmth you had witnessed from her since your arrival. “Perhaps I’ll consider it.”

“Good,” you said, returning her smile. “That’s all I ask.”

As you both stood together in the dim chapel, the shadows and light mingling, an unspoken bond began to form, a flicker of connection in a place where darkness had once reigned. In that moment, it felt as if you could both step away from the chains that had bound you, reclaiming your lives amid the flickering candles and whispered prayers of the abbey. Together, you would face whatever came next.

Somehow, some way, you got Sister Imperator to open up about what had happened. It began with simple conversations in the chapel, your voices mingling with the sound of distant waves crashing against the cliffs. At first, she was reluctant, her words laced with bitterness and guardedness, but gradually the floodgates began to crack.

You learned about her relationship with Nihil—how it had started as a whirlwind of passion and power, two souls entwined in a dance that felt unstoppable at first. But as she shared her story, you could hear the fractures in her voice, the way her heart had been shattered by betrayal.

“He was everything to me,” she had confessed one afternoon, her dark eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But now… now he feels like a ghost. A terrible, haunting memory.”

You listened, offering support without judgment, and she began to understand that it was safe to lay her burdens down. The more she spoke, the lighter her heart seemed to grow, even if just a fraction. And in those moments of vulnerability, a spark began to light between the two of you.

It was subtle at first—shared laughter over mundane tasks, stolen glances that lingered a moment too long. You’d catch her watching you when she thought you weren’t looking, her expression a mixture of curiosity and something deeper, something that hinted at the possibility of connection.

One evening, as twilight descended upon the abbey, you found yourselves side by side on a stone bench outside, wrapped in the comforting chill of the night air. The stars twinkled overhead, and the moon bathed the world in a silvery glow. The peacefulness of the moment enveloped you both, and it felt like a reprieve from the turmoil of your pasts.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, not wanting to break the fragile spell of intimacy that hung between you.

She hesitated, her gaze focused on the moonlight dancing across the cobblestones. “About how different my life is now. I was so consumed by anger and pain… but here, it feels like I can breathe again.”

You nodded, sensing the vulnerability in her words. “And what do you want to do with that breath?”

She turned to look at you, her expression shifting. “I want to reclaim what’s mine—my power, my choices. And perhaps… maybe even find a little joy along the way.”

There was a moment of silence, heavy with unspoken emotions. Your heart raced as you felt the weight of her gaze, the intensity in her eyes igniting something within you. “You deserve that,” you said softly, reaching out to place your hand over hers. “And I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me.”

She didn’t pull away. Instead, she seemed to lean into your touch, her fingers curling around yours. “What if I let you in, and I end up getting hurt again?”

“Then we’ll face it together,” you promised, your heart pounding. “You’re not alone anymore. I won’t let you fall. Not this time.”

Sister Imperator’s lips curved into a tentative smile, a flicker of warmth breaking through her hardened exterior. In that moment, the distance between you shrank, and the spark ignited into something more—a fragile yet undeniable connection, built on shared pain and hope for a better future.

As the night deepened around you, the air thick with unsaid words and the electric tension between you, Sister Imperator shifted slightly closer. The warmth of her body radiated against the chill of the evening, and your heart raced as you dared to maintain your gaze locked on hers.

“Do you really mean what you said?” she asked, her voice a hushed whisper, almost lost in the gentle rustle of leaves overhead. “That you won’t let me fall?”

You nodded, your breath hitching in your throat. “Absolutely. I promise.”

Her eyes softened, and for the first time, the walls she had built around her heart seemed to crack just enough for vulnerability to seep through. “Then maybe… maybe it’s time I stop running.”

With a courageous breath, she closed the gap between you, her gaze flicking to your lips, and in that instant, the world around you faded away. It felt as if time had come to a standstill—the moon hung low, casting a gentle glow over the two of you, the abbey looming in the background, silent and watchful.

And then, with a sweetness that took you both by surprise, she leaned in. Her lips brushed against yours softly, tentative at first, as if testing the waters of this new territory. A thrill coursed through you, a warmth spreading from your fingertips to the core of your being, igniting a fire you had thought long extinguished.

The kiss deepened, and you found yourselves enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and tenderness. Her lips moved against yours with a hesitant urgency, each touch a promise, each breath a quiet confession of everything you had both fought to suppress. The weight of her pain, her past, and your own seemed to melt away in that moment, replaced by an overwhelming sense of connection that felt both terrifying and exhilarating.

As you pulled away, your foreheads resting against one another, you could see the vulnerability reflected in her dark eyes, a mixture of surprise and a burgeoning hope. “Wow,” she breathed, a soft laugh escaping her lips, as if she couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

“Yeah,” you replied, your own breath slightly ragged. “Wow.”

The moment hung between you, pregnant with possibilities and the unspoken truths that lay ahead. In that kiss, you had shared more than just a fleeting connection; you had exchanged pieces of your souls, two fractured hearts finding solace in one another.

“He didn’t deserve you, you know,” you told her, matter-of-factly.

“Don’t talk about him,” she replied, “not now.”

Imperator leaned forward and captured you in another kiss, this one more passionate than the first.

The intensity of her kiss deepened, each brush of her lips igniting a fire within you that spread like wildfire. You could feel the world around you fade into obscurity as the warmth of her body pressed against yours, enveloping you both in a cocoon of desire.

Her hands found their way to your waist, fingers digging in slightly as if to pull you closer, grounding herself in this moment. The urgency in her kiss spoke volumes, a silent declaration that despite everything—despite the past, the betrayal, and the burdens each of you carried—this connection was something worth pursuing.

As she leaned into you, her body arching, you caught a glimpse of vulnerability behind her intensity. There was an undercurrent of desperation in the way she kissed you, an aching need that seemed to spill over from her heart into yours. In that moment, you wanted to assure her that she was safe, that you would protect her, both from the ghosts of her past and the unknowns of the future.

With a shiver of anticipation, she responded to you, her lips crashing against yours with renewed fervour. As the kiss deepened, her hands roamed from your waist to your back, fingers splaying against your skin, pulling you closer still. You could feel the heat radiating from her, the unmistakable tension rising between you, and it sent a rush of excitement through your veins.

In a moment of daring, you let your hands wander down to her abdomen, resting gently against the small curve of her belly. It felt like a gesture both intimate and daring, a spark of something primal and deeply intimate. The thought slipped into your mind—a wild fantasy, perhaps—but you couldn’t help but wonder how different things might have been if the circumstances were different.

The thought danced just on the edge of your consciousness, a tantalising whisper that hinted at what could be. The idea of her carrying a child—your child—sent a bolt of heat coursing through you. “What if…?” you started, breathless, but the words hung in the air, unfinished and heavy with implications.

Sister Imperator froze for a moment, the intensity of your touch drawing her focus away from the kiss. “What if what?” she asked, her breath catching, curiosity mixed with something deeper—a yearning perhaps?

You met her gaze, the weight of your shared desires pressing in on you. “What if we let go of the past?” you whispered, letting your hand linger on her belly for a heartbeat longer. “What if we opened ourselves up to the future?”

Her eyes darkened, filled with a mix of longing and apprehension. “You think it’s that easy?” she replied, though her voice lacked the bite it had held moments earlier.

“It can be,” you urged, your voice low and insistent. “If we choose to take that leap together.”

The tension in the air crackled like electricity, and as you leaned in to kiss her again, you could feel her responding to the unspoken promises that lay between you. It was a kiss that spoke of hope, of possibilities yet to come.

As you pulled away, breathless and charged with an energy that felt almost tangible, you caught the flicker of something new in her eyes—an ember of trust beginning to glow amid the ashes of her past. With each kiss, each gentle caress, the barriers she had built were slowly crumbling, allowing you both to step into uncharted territory.

You gently helped Sister Imperator off the bench, your fingers brushing against her waist as you led her away from the chapel, leaving behind the quiet sanctuary of shadows and stained glass. The dim light of the abbey guided your steps, a soft glow illuminating the path ahead as you made your way toward your room.

The air was thick with unspoken words, a tension simmering just beneath the surface. With each step, you could feel her pulse quickening beside you, and a thrill of anticipation surged through your veins. The walls of the abbey seemed to close in, wrapping you both in a cocoon of secrecy, a place where the world outside couldn’t intrude on the moment you were about to share.

As you reached your door, you hesitated for a heartbeat, casting a glance back at her. “Are you sure about this?” you asked, your voice a low murmur. The last thing you wanted was to push her into something she wasn’t ready for, but the desire burning between you felt undeniable.

She met your gaze, her eyes dark and inviting, a flicker of determination igniting within. “I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she whispered, her voice steady yet laced with a hint of vulnerability.

With a nod, you opened the door and stepped inside, holding it for her as she crossed the threshold. The room was modest, a simple bed covered in crisp white linens, a small desk in the corner, and a window that overlooked the sprawling cliffs. Yet, in that moment, it felt like a sanctuary—a space where you could explore the depths of your connection without the weight of the outside world pressing down on you.

Once inside, you closed the door softly, the sound echoing in the quiet room. You turned to her, your heart racing as you took in the sight of her. She stood there, silhouetted by the dim light, her expression a mix of longing and anticipation.

You stepped closer, the space between you shrinking, charged with electric energy. “I want to be here for you,” you said, your voice low and earnest. “I want to help you find peace.”

“Peace?” she echoed, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Is that what you think this is?”

“It can be,” you replied, taking another step toward her, your hands reaching out to cradle her face gently. “If we let it.”

As your fingers brushed against her skin, you could feel the warmth radiating from her, a heat that ignited your desire all over again. Her breath caught in her throat, and you could see the way her body responded to your touch—how the tension in her shoulders eased, how her lips parted slightly as if inviting you in.

Without breaking eye contact, you leaned in, capturing her lips with yours in a soft, lingering kiss. This time, it was different—deeper, more intimate, as if the world outside had completely faded away. The kiss tasted of promises unspoken, of a future that hung delicately in the balance.

Sister Imperator melted against you, her body pressing into yours as you deepened the kiss. It was a dance of exploration, a tentative yet fervent exchange that ignited every nerve ending within you. As you pulled her closer, you felt her hands weaving through your hair, pulling you in as if trying to erase the distance that had kept you apart for so long.

You took a step back, your heart racing as you regarded her. The soft light in the room danced across her features, highlighting the delicate curves of her body. A warmth flooded through you, an overwhelming desire to draw her closer, to peel away the layers that separated you.

“Let me,” you whispered, your voice low and inviting. You reached for the buttons of her robe, your fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. Slowly, you began to unfasten them, revealing the fabric that clung to her skin beneath. With each button you released, you felt the weight of your shared tension rising, the air thick with unspoken longing.

As you pushed the robe aside, your breath hitched at the sight of her. The fabric fell to the floor, pooling at her feet like the remnants of her past. There she stood, clad in a simple chemise that hugged her body, accentuating her curves in the soft glow of the room. You took a moment to admire her, your eyes tracing the lines of her figure, the way the delicate fabric clung to her.

With a sense of reverence, you reached out, fingertips grazing her waist as you brushed your lips against the hem of her chemise. “May I?” you murmured, seeking permission as your gaze locked onto hers, silently asking if she was ready to unveil the rest of herself to you.

She nodded, a breathless whisper escaping her lips. With careful deliberation, you began to pull the chemise over her head, your fingers gliding along her skin as the fabric slipped away. As it fell to the floor, you felt your breath catch at the sight before you.

Her body was beautiful, a testament to the life growing within her. The swell of her belly was captivating, the curves soft and inviting. The way her skin glowed in the dim light, the subtle rise and fall of her breath, ignited a fire deep within you. You couldn’t help but marvel at how incredibly attractive she was, a vision of beauty and strength.

“Holy shit, you’re stunning,” you breathed, your voice filled with awe. Your hands traveled over the gentle curve of her belly, feeling the warmth radiate from her skin. “This—” you gestured toward her form, “—is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

She looked down at herself, a mixture of pride and vulnerability washing over her. “You really think so?” she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty, but you could see the flicker of joy in her eyes.

“Absolutely,” you replied, your hands now resting possessively on her hips. “You’re a goddess. The way your body carries this life—it’s incredible. I want to worship every part of you.”

As you spoke, your fingers traced the delicate lines of her waist, savoring the softness of her skin. You leaned closer, your lips brushing against her stomach, planting gentle kisses along the curve. The intimacy of the moment was electrifying, and you could feel her shiver beneath your touch, her breath hitching as you explored the contours of her body.

You wanted to make her feel cherished, to revel in the beauty of what was unfolding between you. Each kiss, each caress was filled with a tender reverence for her, the life she carried, and the undeniable connection that drew you together.

You gently guided her to the bed, your hands cradling her as you laid her down on the soft linens. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in this sacred space. Her skin glowed in the dim light, and the sight of her—vulnerable and inviting—made your heart race with a mix of desire and tenderness.

You leaned over her, your body hovering just above hers, as you caught her gaze, a silent promise lingering in the air between you. “Just relax,” you whispered, brushing your fingers lightly along her jawline before trailing down to her collarbone, savouring the warmth of her skin beneath your touch.

As you explored her body with your lips, you felt an overwhelming urge to taste her, to discover every hidden pleasure she held. You began with her neck, kissing a delicate line from her collarbone to just beneath her ear. The soft gasps that escaped her lips spurred you on, a symphony of encouragement that filled you with confidence.

You moved lower, your kisses trailing down her body, taking your time to savour every inch of her skin. Your hands found their way to her belly, cradling the gentle curve as you pressed your lips against it, feeling the warmth and life within her. It was a profound connection—one that made you feel as though you were worshipping her, every kiss a devotion to her beauty and strength.

When you finally reached her core, you paused for a moment, looking up at her with a mixture of desire and reverence. Her cheeks were flushed, her breaths quickening as she anticipated what was to come. You couldn’t help but smirk at the effect you had on her, the way her body responded to your touch.

With slow, deliberate movements, you parted her thighs, revealing the glistening warmth that awaited you. You leaned in closer, your breath brushing against her sensitive skin, eliciting a shiver from her. You took your time, letting your tongue tease her, exploring her with a tantalising slowness that made her writhe beneath you.

Each taste of her was intoxicating, and you could feel the electric energy coursing through your veins. The way she arched her back, the little moans escaping her lips, pushed you deeper into a trance of pleasure and longing. You wanted to give her everything, to take her to the heights of ecstasy while enjoying the soft, sweet taste of her.

As you continued, your hands roamed over her curves, feeling the way her body responded to your every touch. The connection between you deepened, each kiss and lick a testament to the bond you were forging, the intimacy growing stronger with every moment. You lost yourself in her, in the way she surrendered to pleasure, in the way her body seemed to hum with desire as you tasted her, savouring every second.

You continued your exploration, fully aware of how sensitive her body had become due to the pregnancy. Every touch, every kiss seemed to spark a heightened awareness within her. The swell of her belly was more than just a physical manifestation of life; it was a source of incredible sensitivity, and you could feel the way it reacted to your ministrations.

As your lips trailed along her skin, you noticed how even the lightest brush of your fingertips sent ripples of sensation coursing through her. You kissed along the delicate curve of her belly, and she gasped softly, the sound a sweet melody that encouraged you to linger longer. You could feel the warmth radiating from her, the life within her thrumming with energy, heightening every sensation and amplifying her pleasure.

With each kiss, you felt the tightness of her skin, soft and tender, as though it had become more attuned to every sensation. You could see her breathing quicken, her eyes fluttering shut as you moved lower, your lips brushing against the fabric of her chemise before you pulled it aside to fully reveal her body.

As you tasted her, you noticed that even the most innocent of touches sent waves of pleasure through her. Her thighs quivered under your hands, and when your fingers danced along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, she gasped, arching her back as if to draw you closer. You took your time, relishing the way her body responded to every kiss, every flick of your tongue, the soft whimpers escaping her lips revealing just how intensely she felt everything.

You could feel how her nipples had grown more sensitive, too, the delicate peaks begging for attention. You made your way up her body, kissing along her sides and up to her breasts, lavishing attention on the soft curves that felt so inviting. Each caress drew out a gasp or a shudder, her body arching toward you as if it craved your touch, your mouth, everything you had to offer.

You could see her vulnerability shining through, how the pregnancy had made her more open to pleasure, and it both thrilled and captivated you. As you explored her body, your hands glided over her skin, taking in the softness, the way she seemed to bloom under your touch, reveling in the sensations that coursed through her.

“Is this alright?” you asked softly, your breath hot against her skin, wanting to ensure she felt safe in this moment of intimacy.

“More,” she breathed, her voice thick with desire, her body eagerly responding as if the intensity of her pregnancy had unlocked a new realm of sensation.

You obeyed, diving back into your ministrations, your tongue flicking against her most sensitive spots. You could feel the energy build between you, and you knew that this connection was far more than just physical; it was a bond that transcended the moments you spent together, a mingling of bodies and souls that felt sacred and powerful. Every brush of your lips, every flick of your tongue, only deepened the intimacy, forging a path of pleasure that would take her to new heights.

As you lavished attention on her, you could feel the pulsing heat of desire radiating from Sister Imperator. Every gasp, every shudder that escaped her lips fueled your own longing, and you lost yourself in the rhythm of her body. Her sensitive skin was electric beneath your touch, igniting a fire within you that demanded to be sated.

You pulled back for a moment, your eyes locking onto hers, searching for consent and reassurance. The way her dark eyes glimmered with need was all the encouragement you needed. You dove back in, your mouth exploring the swell of her belly once more, kissing a trail down toward her thighs. The weight of her pregnancy made her look both delicate and incredibly alluring, each curve accentuated, every inch of her body a testament to the life she carried.

You continued your descent, trailing kisses along the soft skin of her thighs, relishing the way she quivered beneath you. Her legs parted instinctively, welcoming you closer. You could sense how acutely aware she was of every sensation, the way her body responded to you was intoxicating. The closer you got to her core, the more she writhed, her breath hitching in anticipation.

With a gentle touch, you caressed her sensitive folds, marveling at how warm and responsive she felt. The slightest pressure sent ripples of pleasure through her, and you could hear the breathy gasps escaping her lips, urging you on. You took your time, relishing the way her body reacted to your every movement. Your fingers played with her, exploring the slickness of her arousal, and her body writhed in response, each wave of pleasure causing her to tighten around you.

“Please,” she whimpered, her voice laced with desperation, “I need more.”

Your heart raced at her plea, and you obliged, your tongue teasing her in slow, deliberate strokes. You felt her back arch in response, her hands finding their way to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands as she pulled you closer. Each flick of your tongue drew forth a moan, and you felt a swell of pride at being able to bring her such pleasure, especially in her state of heightened sensitivity.

You worked in tandem, your fingers joining your mouth, moving with practiced grace, coaxing her closer to the edge. Her body was a symphony of sensations, each note building toward a crescendo, and you wanted nothing more than to guide her through it. As your movements quickened, you could feel her thighs trembling, the tension in her body escalating with each passing moment.

“Almost there,” you murmured against her, the vibrations sending delicious shivers through her.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed, her voice a pleading whisper. The urgency in her tone pushed you further, the primal need for release palpable in the air around you.

Your fingers danced faster, your mouth working in a fervent rhythm, and you felt her body begin to clench around you, the build-up of pleasure cresting like a wave. The moans that fell from her lips were intoxicating, the sound driving you to continue, to push her higher. You watched her face, a mix of ecstasy and concentration as she surrendered to the sensations coursing through her.

“Let go,” you urged softly, your eyes locked onto hers as you felt her tighten around you.

With a final cry, Sister Imperator broke, her body quaking under the weight of her release. Waves of pleasure rippled through her, and you held her close, feeling the way she pulsed around your fingers, the warmth of her body enveloping you as you guided her through the aftershocks.

As she came down from the high, her breathing slowed, and she met your gaze, her eyes softening with affection and gratitude. In that moment, you both knew you had crossed a threshold together—one that intertwined your fates even deeper.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breathy and tender. “That was… incredible.”

You smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “You deserve it. All of it.”

As Sister Imperator came down from her high, her breath steadying, she looked at you with newfound hunger in her eyes. The warmth of her gaze ignited something deep within you, a shared desire that had been building between you both. Without breaking eye contact, she moved her hands to your waist, guiding you closer until you hovered above her, feeling the heat radiating from her body.

“Now it’s my turn,” she murmured, her voice low and sultry, sending shivers down your spine. She expertly wrapped her fingers around your thighs, pulling you down onto her waiting hand. You gasped as her fingers found your most sensitive spots, teasing you with a light touch that sent electric jolts through your body.

You instinctively began to move, riding her fingers as they worked in tandem with your own need. Her touch was firm yet gentle, every stroke coaxing you closer to the edge. You found your rhythm, the desire swelling within you as you moved against her, lost in the sensations she created. The tension coiled tightly in your core, every roll of your hips pushing you further into the blissful abyss.

“Just like that,” she encouraged, her voice thick with lust. “Let me feel you.”

You leaned into her, allowing her fingers to explore your body as you succumbed to the pleasure. The way she played with you was exquisite—her fingers expertly curling, drawing out soft moans that echoed in the room. You found yourself increasingly captivated by her touch, the warmth of her skin against yours igniting a fire within you.

With each thrust of your hips, you felt the pleasure build in waves, the sensation growing more intense as you became lost in the moment. Sister Imperator’s eyes never left yours, their dark depths filled with a mix of desire and admiration. You could sense how the pregnancy heightened her sensitivity; her fingers trembled slightly as they worked to bring you closer to the brink.

The world outside faded, and all that mattered was the rhythm you created together. With each motion, you could feel her heart racing beneath your touch, the connection between you deepening as you surrendered to the bliss. You reveled in the intimacy of the moment, allowing yourself to be vulnerable in her presence.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” she breathed, her voice thick with lust. “I want to see you lose yourself.”

Her words sent a thrill through you, igniting a primal urge to please her. You quickened your pace, the heat between you rising to a fever pitch. You could feel the tension coiling tighter within you, the pleasure building to an exquisite climax. Each glide of her fingers brought you closer, a soft reminder of her desire and the intimacy you were sharing.

“Please,” you gasped, your voice tinged with desperation. “I’m so close.”

“Then let go for me,” she urged, her fingers dancing expertly against you, guiding you to the edge. “I want to feel you fall apart.”

With her words echoing in your mind, you surrendered to the waves of pleasure crashing over you. The sensations swirled around you like a tempest, every nerve ending alive and pulsing with desire. You let go, riding her fingers as the ecstasy consumed you, the world falling away until all that remained was the bliss of your release. You cried out, the sound filling the room, as every sensation burst like fireworks behind your eyelids, a beautiful culmination of your desire and connection.

As you came down from the high, you collapsed onto her, your breath mingling in the space between you. Your heart raced as the aftershocks of pleasure rippled through you, a lingering reminder of the intensity you had just shared. In that moment, you felt truly alive, woven together by the strands of passion and intimacy that had blossomed in the sanctuary of the abbey.

Sister Imperator wrapped her arms around you, drawing you closer as if she wanted to absorb every ounce of warmth from your body. Her fingers gently stroked your hair, a tender gesture that contrasted with the rawness of what had just transpired. You could feel her heartbeat, steady and strong against your cheek, a comforting reminder that you were no longer alone.

“Are you alright?” she whispered, her voice soft and laced with concern, as if she were afraid that the moment had been too much.

You nodded, unable to find the words to express the overwhelming emotions swirling within you. The connection between you felt deeper now, a bond forged in vulnerability and shared pleasure. You looked up to meet her gaze, and in that moment, you saw not just a lover but a partner who understood the pain and the joy that life had to offer.

“More than alright,” you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I never imagined it could be like that.”

A playful glint sparked in her eyes, her confidence returning as she brushed a thumb over your cheek. “I can show you more, if you’d like.”

The spring of 1969 unfolded with a beauty that felt almost cruel in its brightness. Flowers burst into bloom outside the Abbaye des Ombres Infernales, the world alive with the vibrancy of life and the promise of new beginnings. Yet within the sanctuary of the abbey’s walls, a tempest brewed in Sister Imperator’s heart, a tumultuous blend of joy and sorrow that weighed heavily upon her.

The day of her delivery dawned bright and clear, but even the sun seemed to shine with a bittersweet glow. You stood by her side, a constant presence, holding her hand through every wave of pain and pleasure that coursed through her. The chapel, once a place of quiet contemplation, had transformed into a sacred space of labor and birth. Soft candlelight flickered, casting gentle shadows on the walls, while the scent of incense filled the air, mingling with the rawness of her emotions.

Imperator was a vision of strength and vulnerability as she laboured, her breath coming in sharp bursts. Each contraction drew her deeper into herself, and you watched as she fought through the pain, her face a tapestry of determination and resolve. The midwives, Sisters who had dedicated their lives to the care of others, moved around her with quiet confidence, offering words of encouragement and support.

“Breathe, Sœur,” one of them urged gently, her voice soothing as she wiped the sweat from Imperator’s brow. “You are strong. Just a little longer.”

With every push, you felt the weight of her struggle, the urgency of the moment hanging thick in the air. The joy of bringing new life into the world was underscored by the knowledge that this was only the beginning of an impending separation. You could see it in the way she clenched her jaw, the flicker of fear in her eyes as she considered the path ahead.

Finally, with a cry that echoed off the stone walls, the first baby emerged into the world, the midwives catching him with reverent hands. You held your breath, your heart racing as they laid him upon her chest, the warmth of his tiny body a stark contrast to the storm raging inside her. Imperator’s expression shifted from pain to pure, unfiltered joy as she gazed down at her son, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Oh, mon Dieu,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “He’s perfect.”

But as you watched the tenderness bloom in her gaze, your heart ached with the weight of what was to come. This moment of beauty was laced with an undercurrent of sadness, a poignant reminder that she would soon have to choose. The second baby followed shortly after, a squalling bundle of life that brought fresh waves of elation and despair. As they placed him in her arms, Imperator’s heart swelled, yet a shadow lingered behind her smile.

The days that followed were a delicate dance between joy and sorrow. Each moment spent cradling her sons felt like a stolen treasure, every coo and gurgle a reminder of the life she was building. You stayed close, offering your love and support, cherishing the fleeting hours spent together. Each smile she gave you was a balm for your heart, but the knowledge of her plans loomed like a spectre, darkening even the brightest moments.

As the boys grew, they filled the abbey with laughter and life, the echoes of their joy mingling with the solemnity of the surroundings. You watched Sister Imperator transform in front of your eyes, the fierce warrior you had come to admire softening into a nurturing mother. It was both beautiful and painful; every laugh, every milestone felt like a countdown to her departure.

On the last night before she would leave, you found her sitting in the small nursery, her gaze lost in thought as she watched her sons sleep. The moonlight filtered through the window, casting a silvery glow over the room, illuminating the contours of her face, revealing the sadness etched there.

“___,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if I’m making the wrong choice?”

You stepped into the room, your heart aching at the sight of her, the woman who had brought such light into your life now consumed by doubt. “You’re doing what you believe is best for them, Imperator. But… it doesn’t have to be this way.”

She turned to you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I wanted to keep them here, to raise them away from the Ministry’s grasp. But I cannot stay. I have my duty. I can’t abandon my brothers or the mission.”

“But at what cost?” you implored, stepping closer, desperate to bridge the chasm between you. “You’re leaving a part of yourself behind, and what if they need you? What if you need them?”

“I will always need them,” she replied, her voice breaking. “But my plans—”

“Your plans can change,” you interrupted, the intensity of your emotions spilling forth. “You have the power to decide your own path. We could be a family here. You don’t have to go back to Rome.”

The silence that followed was deafening, a chasm filled with unspoken truths. Her gaze fell back to the sleeping boys, her heart torn between two worlds. You could see the internal battle waging within her, the weight of her choices pressing down like an anchor.

She breathed your name, a mixture of longing and sorrow. “I can’t bear to leave them, yet I can’t let them be pawns in a game that could destroy them. I must take one with me. He will be safe under my care, but…” Her voice trailed off, thick with unshed tears.

You reached for her, your hand brushing against hers. “And what of the other? What will you do without him?”

“I can’t lose them both,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “But I must play my part. I must return to Rome, and when they are two, I’ll come back for one.”

Each word she spoke felt like a dagger to your heart, a stark reminder of the reality you both faced. The anguish of separation loomed over you like a dark cloud, threatening to engulf the fragile happiness you had built together.

“I wish things were different,” you whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sank to your knees beside her. “I wish we could stay like this, together, as a family.”

Sister Imperator leaned down, her forehead resting against yours, sharing in the weight of your sorrow. “So do I. So do I.”

The finality of her decision hung heavy in the air, an unshakeable reality that neither of you could change. As the moon cast its silvery glow over the nursery, you both held onto each other, cherishing the love you had forged amidst the chaos. In that moment, you knew that the bond you shared would never truly fade, even as the distance threatened to tear you apart.

As dawn broke, painting the world in hues of gold, Sister Imperator prepared for her departure. The boys cooed softly in their crib, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in the hearts of their mother and the woman who loved her. You stood beside her, your heart breaking as she held her sons, cradling them close, memorising every curve of their tiny bodies.

“I’ll come back for you,” she whispered, a promise laced with pain as she kissed their foreheads, sealing her love into their very beings. “I’ll return for one of you. You’ll never be alone. I’ll carry you in my heart.”

The moment felt suspended in time, an eternity captured in the embrace of a mother. But as she turned away, the weight of her choice settled upon you, and you knew that the love you shared would become both a beacon and a burden, a reminder of what could have been.

And as she walked away, taking a piece of your heart with her, you felt the ache of longing seep deep into your soul—a silent vow to hold onto the memory of the love you had shared, even as she forged a path that would lead her away from you, and towards an uncertain future.

Prev./Next

[howtotrainabraincell]

Nightmares

If any of the assassin's understand nightmares, it's these men:

Ezio Auditore da Firenze

Ever since he was 17, he's been plagued by nightmares of his brothers and father's murders. He's always right there and so close...but he never reaches them on time.

When he met her the nightmares began to gradually go away and eventually, they ceased. The last one he ever had seemed to give his mind the closure that he needed.

Ezio had realized that he was in another nightmare and instead of trying to stop what he knew was unstoppable, he closed his eyes and tried to think of his family as they were. Something his love had recommended to calm him. It worked.

He saw his father speaking happily with Frederico and his mother, Maria. He saw Petruccio laughing with Claudia as they fed a few ducks bits of lettuce. He saw Mario grinning at him, congratulating him on his work in training.

It brought him peace to see his family as they once were. As they should have been. If life had been fair. And then he woke up. It was morning and he could see the sun streaming in through the window of his shared bedroom with the one he loves most.

Yet when he turns to greet her, to thank her for her help because it worked...she's not there in their bed. He sits up in alarm searching for her but doesn't have to look far. She's sitting before the fire in her nightgown, slouching in exhaustion.

If she’s scared enough, he’ll play the few chords he learned on the lute for her - although he'll likely become the shyest she'll ever witness him become.

If she wants, he's always willing to 'distract' her in another way if she asks for him too. But his voice is what calms her the most and he tries his best with what he knows comforts her. Ezio will tell her about missions, funny things that the new novices did, the most recent squabbles between La Volpe and Machiavelli.

She laughs when she hears Ezio regal the tale of how La Volpe scared Machiavelli so badly it sent him flailing backwards into a haystack.

Sometimes they talk until the sun rises, a few times they've both distracted each other with a passionate encounter that lasts the entire night, and other times they lay there together whispering softly.

Ezio teaching her Italian to distract her has become commonplace and it warms his heart to hear her speak his native tongue, even if she is plagued by other things. He will take care of her the same way she has always taken care of him.

How could he not after all the blessings she's bestowed upon him? It is the least he can do for her and as long as she wants him to, he will.

Sempre e per sempre.

Arno Victor Dorian

What doesn't this man have nightmares about? His father, his adopted father, his mentor betraying him, the awful things he's seen throughout the revolution (and at this point it's still not over yet), losing the woman he loved after being abandoned by her twice, it never ends for him.

Sade and his God-awful jokes and sorry excuses of literary prose. But recently a new one has come to him...losing her. He wakes up and his heart hurts from the loss of her in his dream state. His throat hurts from how he screamed in his worst fear come true.

Only to find her sleeping peacefully next to him. Beautiful, safe, and completely unaware of the horrible things he had seen happen to her in his nightmares. From death to Napoleon trying to take her (damn that man for his affections toward HIS woman the connard...)

Not wishing to wake her the French assassin will often leave their shared bed, kissing her forehead gently, and trekking to the kitchen to see if something warm will do the trick.

She always knows when Arno leaves the bed. His presence disappearing wakes her up without fail every time. When she follows him, she finds her sweet snarky assassin in the garden with a cup of cocoa. Padding loudly enough for him to hear she approaches him from behind and wraps the blanket she brought for him around him snugly, kissing his head sweetly.

Every time. Without fail. For as many years as he was plagued with night terrors.

It is unexpected and heartbreaking for Arno to see his love fall apart after the Revolution. For almost their entire lives, she has kept him together without judgement and nothing but patience and love towards him. He's only too happy to return the favor now that she needs him.

He holds her the same way she held him for all those years, murmuring lovingly in French in both things she understands and things she's yet to learn. He tells her about spats with the French council, yet another mistress of de Sade whooping his ass with jewel encrusted slippers, Leon's excellent progress in swordplay (he'll be better than Arno if he doesn't watch out...).

Many stories are funny for her sake to keep things lighthearted and to distract her mind from darker things. It's for Arno too he'll admit. He loves the sound of her laugh and always has.

Reading to her is also something he enjoys. They both love to read and the way she relaxes into his chest to try and focus on the story makes him feel warm inside. They can read for hours or moments before becoming lost in one another, either embracing one another tightly grateful to have survived the Revolution, or Arno will show her just how much he appreciates her...

Either way the nightmares will always be defeated by Monsieur Dorian because he loves her enough to never do anything less.

Ratonhnhake:ton/Connor Kenway

He understands nightmares. He has them too and it took him a long time to be able to calm himself down from them and realize that they were his internal fears manifesting into nightmares. Or sometimes even nothing at all.

He'll tell her stories about his childhood - happier times and even stories of his tribe. Avoiding more tender topics she may even make a lighthearted jab at his father - something to the effect of his tricorn hat being pretentious - which makes the man laugh deeply underneath her.

Ratonhnhake:ton loves how she always knows what to say to make him smile or laugh. He just hopes he can do the same for her for the rest of their lives.

Sometimes they talk about their plans for the next day and what they'll do around the Homestead. She might plan to go foraging and visit Prudence and little Hunter, who is just learning to take his first steps. They both plan take a trip to visit Myriam and Norris after the arrival of their little one, a baby girl named Amara.

He'll mention the plans he has to secure game for their next meal, and she'll bring up where she saw a herd of deer grazing, ask if he has enough arrows and if he needs his dagger sharpened for skinning. The man smiles down at her grateful for her help and thoughtfulness towards him.

The excitement he feels when he hears her plans to bake again. He loves her baking and is sure to let her know anytime she creates something no matter how small or simple. Mulling over the ingredients she'll use and if she should do regular sugar or chocolate chip cookies, she can feel her cheeks warm at the way the assassin looks at her.

Warm and tender. Like she is the only thing tethering him to peace life and loving comfort.

She begins to feel better thinking about how happy her husband will look to come home to fresh baked chocolate chip cookies.

They'll lay there with him speaking softly to her until he realizes that she's drifted back to sleep against his chest. Connor will smile brushing her hair back from her face gently, as he admires the love of his life, before whispering to the peaceful room: "Konnoronhkwa."