#[ effort and energy into what other didn't see that I saw ]

[stayandcozy]

Reflection of Us

Hyunjin X Reader Oneshot

WORDCOUNT: 3833

Masterlist

MATURE THEME ADVISED (Smut Focused)

These celebrity parties normally never bothered me. I was used to smiling and just nodding my head as big name idols rambled to me about a lifestyle I completely didn't understand. But that was okay. I didn’t mind and often I enjoyed getting to know more about the life Hyunjin lived. 

When we first started seeing each other two years ago, I made it clear that I didn’t want to share that type of lifestyle with him yet. I wanted something quieter, more romantic. But of course that only got to last a while, luckily we both knew it would happen. That Hyunjins relationship with me would get leaked. It was horrible at first, with fans sending death threats and him needing extra security. But now things have settled down and as my punishment I get to go to these parties. 

Worse was that these were not just social events for the boys but also work. Which meant Hyunjin was off playing the politics of his life. And I was forced to listen as Changbin listed off all his reasons for getting the idols to play a baseball tournament. 

“Oh come on, you have to see it right? All of us in those cute little outfits running around? The fans would eat out of our hands! Imagine how cute Hyunjinnie would look.” 

“Bin, your fans would be too focused on how bad you all are to pay attention to the outfits.” I said while taking a sip of champagne. It was expensive and still tasted like shit. 

“Where is your boyfriend, I need someone to team up with,” and with that he started whipping his head around to look for Hyunjin. I was completely unbothered by his antics so I just shook my head and looked down to check the time on my phone. But when I looked back I saw that his eyes had grown three sizes bigger. I followed Changbins gaze to the corner of the room where Hyunjin was sitting on a chair with two girls on each arm rest. They were giggling at something he said, and touching his shoulder flirtatiously. 

Not here. Don't make a scene, anywhere but here. 

As if he could feel the jealousy radiating off me, Changbin turned to me trying to diffuse the situation. “I’m sure he doesn’t even realize what they're doing.” 

I took my glass of champagne and swished it down in one gulp. “No, maybe not, but I’m not sure that makes it any better.” 

I couldn’t stop myself from staring at them. The way both girls would lean into his sides. It was driving me crazy. It made me even more sick when I saw Hyunjin look up and smile at one of them. What kind of game was he playing? Did he want cheating rumors to start, because this is exactly how you get into that kind of scandal. Or maybe he just genuinely enjoyed the attention. The thought he was enjoying himself started a deep burning in my chest and before I knew it my vision was blurring. 

Sometimes it felt like Hyunjin knew something was wrong when he shouldn't. There have been too many days after work where I couldn’t find the energy to make an effort, and before I could even tell him, he’d be calling me. Telling me how much he loves me, and that no matter what he’d be there for me. That sixth sense he had, must have been the reason his brows scrunched and he looked up to meet my glare.

There was no way from that distance he could have seen me on the verge of crying. But I guess from my deep set frown he knew something was wrong. He started to get up but one of the girls started pouting, put a hand on his chest and pulled him back into the chair. I saw him say something to the girl but then the other put her hand on his thigh. Way too high for it to be innocent. And that was enough for me. I wasn’t going to sit here and watch my boyfriend get felt up.

“Hey Bin, can I take your dorm key? I left my car keys there and I’m not feeling too well.” I let the lie slip out even though I knew he was going to call my bluff. 

“It’s pretty cold outside, do you want me to call you a taxi?”

“No really, I’d rather walk. Give me a chance to ease my stomach.” He gave me a sympathetic look before digging into his pockets to retrieve a key. He dropped it in my hand before walking off in the direction of Chan and Felix. 

I didn’t waste any more time, and rushed to grab my coat and head for the doors. The air outside instantly nipped at my nose and cheeks. Changbin wasn’t kidding, it was unbearably cold. But the temperature was helping cool down the fire burning inside of me. Every time I thought of her fingers grazing his thigh it ignited stronger. Why didn’t he stop them? Was he really enjoying it like I thought? I know that he’s surrounded by beautiful idols every day but never once have I ever felt insecure. Not until then at least. That definitely made me insecure, hyper aware of every flaw on my body. 

Three quick beeps from my phone pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts. 

From My Love <3 

9:52 pm

Hey sweetheart, where did you go? I saw you one second and then you were gone.

9:52 pm

Please tell me you aren’t walking home.

9:53 pm

Changbin told me you left and then called me an idiot…? Did I do something????

I didn’t have the energy for it. I just wanted to get back to my apartment and sleep. I clicked my phone off and instantly another text came through 

From My Love <3 

9:54 pm

I know you saw those. You’re making me anxious. Can you please tell me what’s going on baby? I can’t leave for a bit more, will you at least let me know you’re okay? 

A petty thought came to me, one that I knew wasn’t right but I wanted to hurt him like how I felt hurt. If he was fine with having two random girls flirt with him all night, then he would be perfectly fine not knowing if I was okay or not. Imagining him panicking over me made me feel a little better, which also made me feel insanely guilty. Whatever, he could handle one night of worrying about me. 

The rest of the walk didn’t feel real. I couldn’t recall a single thing from my walk, only that my insides were too numb for me to register any of the numbing on the outside. But when I walked into the dorm building, my ears started to hurt from the cold. I really needed a shower, something to warm me up and calm me down. 

It was rare that the dorms were this quiet. It was nice. 

I figured I still had a good few hours before any of them came home, and Hyunjins shower had one of those waterfall heads that dropped soft water. I opened the door and turned on the water as hot as it would go. A smile crept onto my face as I thought about how Hyunjin has screamed and called me his demon in the past whenever I got in first. But that smile soon disappeared as the thought connected me to everything from tonight, and it hit me again like a train. A scream was threatening to spill past my lips but instead only a choked sob came out. I let my legs give out as I sat and nothing could stop the onslaught of tears. 

What was wrong with me? Was I not enough for him? Did he want something more than what I could give? I couldn’t compete with those girls, who am I even kidding. Maybe it would be easier on everyone if he dated someone from the celebrity world. He shouldn’t even be with someone like me. I should take some space from him. 

The waves of thoughts were exhausting me more and more. I needed to get home. Sleep would bring clarity, surely it would. 

When I stepped out of the bathroom, the steam shrouded around me. Looking up from the ground, I was met with the red and puffy eyes of Hyunjin. I nearly screamed, not expecting anyone home, and feeling all too vulnerable in only a towel. 

“He told me you left because of me…” he started but trailed off when he had to wipe away a few stray tears. It took everything in me not to caress his pretty face. 

“Yeah...” 

He just nodded, and sat looking even more devastated. I couldn’t handle it, I needed him to leave or I was going to lose my resolve. “Please, can you get out? I need to get dressed.”

“Since when have you ever been shy about your body with me?”

”Since now Hyunjin.” 

“B-but I’ve literally painted your naked body before. I’ve stared at it for hours. Thirty seconds of changing is nothing compared to that.” 

I’m not sure why it upset me, but it did. “Mmhm, and that was before I felt like I was competing with other women. Now I don't want you to see me naked.”

His eyes softened a bit but there were still more tears threatening to spill, and I absolutely hated how beautiful he looked with the added sparkle. “Baby… Is that what this is about? About Seoyun and Jiwoo?” So he knew them? I didn’t know if that should have made it better or worse but I felt the familiar burn start in my chest. He shouldn’t have left, I didn't want him to follow me. Seoyun and Jiwoo would make better company. 

“Hyun, please leave.”

“No.”

“Why are you being so difficult? Can’t you see you’ve upset me and I want to be alone?” 

A small, exasperated giggle fell from his swollen lips. “I didn’t upset you. You got jealous.”

I rolled my eyes extra hard at that. “I don’t get jealous.”

“Then why did you leave the party so suddenly?” 

“Because I felt sick.”

“Because you thought I was flirting back,” he said more as a statement rather than a question. 

“No because watching you with them made me realize how terrible we look together!” It exploded out of me before I even had the chance to think. I regretted it immediately. 

“Come here.”

“Hyun no I don’t—”

“Sweetheart. I said come here.” 

He said it with such authority I felt like I had no choice but to listen. I let my legs carry me over to stand in front of him. But that wasn’t enough for him, he wanted, needed me closer. His hands came to my back, and pushed me to sit on top of his lap, straddling him. 

My eyes were closed, I knew I couldn’t look at him. I felt his soft hands push a strand of my wet hair behind my ear and his hand lingered a bit longer, swiping at the remains of old tears. 

“There is only you…” He whispered as his lips ghosted under my ears, “there will only ever be you.” I hated how easy it was for him to affect me. The evidence of goosebumps spread across my arms gave him the push he needed to keep going. “Look at me, my love.” 

And I listened again. I opened my eyes and stared into his. He was searching for something, but I didn’t know what. I stayed quiet hoping he would continue so I didn’t have to reply. I knew if I opened my mouth, I wouldn’t be able to control what I said. 

“When I have interactions with other women at parties like that, it means nothing to me. Truthfully it makes me quite annoyed but this is my life. I can’t risk coming across as rude even if I’m uncomfortable. I let them delve into their little fantasy because it’s easier. Seoyun and Jiwoo are the nieces of one of the big donors of JYP. My managers would have killed me if they said anything about bad manners.”

“It's not fair… I don’t want them to fantasize about you.” 

A shit eating grin spread across his face when I said that. “You do realize what our fans fantasize about right?” God, I really hated him sometimes. I lightly slapped his shoulder and tried to push away from him, but his arms wrapped around my waist and wouldn’t let me move. I kept struggling to slip away and it was useless because his hold was concrete. “Hey don’t try to wiggle out of this!” He laughed and started kissing my neck. It instantly sent shockwaves through my body and my groans of displeasure turned into moans of contentment. I was embarrassed of how quickly the anger melted off of me. 

The anger disappeared completely when I felt him harden in response to my moans. 

“Hyunnie…” 

“When I look at you love, I see art. It’s why you're the subject of most of my paintings. No flowers, oceans, or fields of green could compare to you. Those girls are nothing more than a business transaction. You are my muse, not them. There’s no reason to be jealous because you don’t belong in the same world as them.” 

“Ah—No more, no more… I feel like I’m going to explode from too many emotions.”

“Then is it okay with you if I show you how beautiful we look together?”

I couldn’t do anything but nod my head weakly up and down. He moved me off his lap and walked over to his dresser before shoving it roughly in front of the bed. “Baby what are you—” I asked but I was met with a sly smile and a shushing sound, so I did nothing but sit there and watch as he moved his large full body mirror to lean on the dresser. Excited panic started to rush up my spine. Oh my god he wasn’t going to. Was he? 

My question was answered quickly when Hyunjin came behind me and sat on his knees with me in between them. If the fandom knew him from one thing, it would be his cocky confidence. The way he was able to turn anyone into putty in his hands was a divine gift. One that he used often against me. I couldn’t help but blush as I realized what his intention was, so in order to take a chance to breathe I looked down and stared at the floor. But he wasn’t having any of that, and his beautiful fingers clenched my jaw and forced me to look him in the eyes through the mirror. All too soon he removed his fingers carefully as if to gauge if I’d try to look away. When he decided it was safe he pulled away fully and his fingers went to the buttons of his shirt. 

When I thought earlier that Hyunjin shouldn’t be with someone like me, this is exactly what I meant. He was too pretty for his own good. As if he was made to be looked at. And I couldn’t look away. The way his brows scrunched in focus as he finished unbuttoning sent tingles to my thighs and I subconsciously pressed them together trying to ease the ache he was creating. After discarding the shirt on the floor he nimbly removed his pants, throwing them across the room. 

“Now,” he started. “Look at how beautiful you are.” And he hovered over my hand that was desperately holding onto the towel. I gave in immediately and let him pull the towel down. We were both staring at each other through the glass. His eyes darkened and a hungry look took over his features. It was rare for Hyunjin to get this possessive, this dominant. Staring didn’t last long, he was getting impatient I could tell by the way he subtly arched his hips into my back. Suddenly, he pushed me down so my face was pressed against the bed and my ass was up, all of my intimate parts on full display to him. No matter how many times he saw me naked, I couldn’t help the blush that would paint my cheeks. 

“I’m going to make you cum on my fingers, and you’re going to be a good princess and watch how pretty you are when you cum, okay love?” 

“O-okay.” Was all I could stammer out before I saw him take the band around his wrist and throw his hair half up out of his eyes. Fuck, he was doing it on purpose. His eyes met mine again as he twirled a strand out of the pony tail and let it fall. He knew this hairstyle made me flustered. Whenever he did it at practice he would purposely send me a picture to tease me. And that’s what he was doing right now. That cheeky grin was back, and a groan slipped past my lips. 

“Hyunnie, if you’re going to tease me all night, I’m going to go back to being mad at you,” I said. 

“Oh? Is that so…” He trailed off and I felt those godly fingers slip between my folds. “You’re too wet to be mad at me sweetheart. You would dare leave.” 

The feeling of his fingers dancing on me was making me dizzy and if I didn’t get more soon I was going to pass out. I started grinding myself back onto him. Thankfully he finally listened and those sweet fingers pushed inside me. He was slow at first, taking his time as he eased a second finger in. I caught a glimpse of us in the mirror and moaned at the sight. Hyunjin had one hand placed on my ass, and the other pumping in and out of me at a fast pace. The way he stared, captivated by me sent another shock to my brain and I could feel my orgasm bubbling. 

“Fuck… God.. Ugh baby look at you. I’m going to cum just from looking at you. You wanna cum baby? You wanna cum on my fingers?”

“Yes, god please, please, please, yes.” 

“Give it to me then baby. Cum for me.” 

And as if his every word held some supernatural force over me I did. I screamed out his name as I came around those stupid fucking fingers. 

“Did you see how pretty you looked, love?” 

Oh fuck. “I’m sorry, it felt so good baby I closed my eyes.”

He tsked, and I felt him shed his underwear. “I guess I have to do it again then and make sure you’re watching huh?” This side of Hyunjin made me weak in every way. I felt drunk on the dominance he was feeding me. I loved taking the lead with him normally but I couldn’t lie to myself. It felt insane to let him use me however he wanted. 

Before I knew it, I could feel him plunge himself into me in one slick thrust. The remains of the previous orgasm made it too easy for him to slide in. He let out a breathy moan and I snapped my eyes to the mirror to watch him. The image was so lewd. Hyunjin had both hands on my hips as he set a quick pace. I stared in awe as I watched him fuck me. Both of our moans joined together. He was right, we did look beautiful together. I nearly came when I saw him let out a light laugh and swipe his tongue over his teeth as he let out a vulgar moan. 

Watching him was bringing me closer and closer to another orgasm. 

“Mmm feel so good baby, I’m not gonna last much longer if you keep clenching me like that.” He said breathlessly. 

He was fucking me at a ruthless pace now, chasing his own high as he took quick deep thrusts. I couldn’t take it anymore, it felt so good. I let my head rest on the bed and closed my eyes for only a moment. 

“Nuh uh, we’re not doing that again,” he said as he reached forward and pulled my hair back towards him. The pain forced another loud moan out of me and it only encouraged him to go harder. I could tell he was closer from the way his eyebrows knit together and his thrusts become sloppy and greedy. He looked completely fucked out.

“Need you baby, need you to cum in me.” I managed to get out.

“Oh fuck…” and he fucked into me impossibly deeper. He still had a fist full of my hair forcing me to look in the mirror. I came instantly when I felt the warm jets of cum fill me. Clenching around him in flutters. 

He pulled me closer to his body and I felt the sticky sweat cling to my skin. His head was resting on my shoulder and I felt him watching me through the mirror, breathing heavily. I took a breath before I looked to meet his gaze. 

“See? Beautiful. We belong together. You fit me like a puzzle piece.”

I felt a pang of guilt wash over me and quickly slid off of him and turned to sit in his lap. 

“I’m so sorry I was so cold to you. I just got so insecure.” 

“It’s okay sweetheart. I understand completely. But no more being a brat to me over jealousy okay? That’s my thing.” I could help but giggle at him. He was truly the best, and I couldn’t have asked for a more caring boyfriend.

“Yeah I’ll leave the dramatics and brattiness to you. I don’t wanna feel jealous ever again.”

“Really? Not even after I fucked the jealousy out of you?” 

“Hyunjin!” 

“What! It’s true.” He giggled. God I loved him. I never hated him. I pressed my lips to him and felt him melt into my touch. 

“I love you.” I whispered. 

“I love you too.” He replied. 

His eyes looked at me so innocently and I felt that school girl crush creep up on me. What did I do to ever deserve him?

“You deserve me.” 

“How did you even—“

“I told you, you are my muse, love. I know you better than you know yourself. Come on, let's get you cleaned up and go cuddle. I expect two hours of back rubs as an apology for thinking I’d ever choose anyone but you.” 

And with that he stood and took my hand leading me back into the bathroom. A smile crept onto my face and I thought about how beautiful we looked together. I felt all of the worry melt off of me and something warmer, softer spread throughout my body. 

Author Note

You may have seen this before! I posted it on my private account, but decided I should post it here too. No I’m not stealing anyone’s work haha, I’m the original author. Thanks! Hope you enjoyed it you dirty freaks. <3

[jellybonbons]

KISS CAM!

Kenji Sato x gn!reader

CW: pure fluff, established relationship, possessive kenji, best friend (Mio).

Words: 1.0k

AN: gave a name for reader's bff becus I got sick of writing 'your friend'. comments and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to New Tokyo Dome, home of your Giants! Tonight, the Giants face off against the visiting Swallows in what promises to be an exciting matchup.”

It was your first time experiencing your boyfriend’s game live, a significant change from watching him on screen. Ken had given you two tickets, inviting you to see his baseball game in person and you decided to bring your best friend, Mio.

As you and Mio made your way through the bustling crowd to your seats, the excitement of the game day atmosphere surrounded you. The stadium was a sea of team colours, with fans cheering and the scent of popcorn and hot dogs wafting through the air.

Ken had been clear about keeping your relationship private for now, given that it was still new, and he didn't want to stir up any media attention. You understood his concerns and were content with supporting him discreetly, even from the stands.

You finally found your seats and settled in, the anticipation bubbling inside you. As you took in the scene, the field looked well-maintained under the stadium lights, and the crowd's roar was almost deafening. Your eyes instinctively scanned the field, searching for Ken among his teammates. When you finally spotted him, you couldn’t help but beam with pride.

Ken's tall figure was unmistakable, and as if sensing your gaze, he turned towards you – he had purposely given you tickets close to his dugout so he could see you from there. His eyes met yours, and he gave you a wink that made your heart flutter. The crowd that witnessed the interaction erupted in cheers, mistaking it for a playful gesture to all the fans.

Mio nudged your shoulder playfully. "Did he just wink at you? Oh my god, he totally did!"

You laughed, trying to keep your excitement contained. "Maybe he did," you said, your cheeks warming.

"Dude, if anyone noticed, you're going to be all over the sports news tomorrow," she teased.

"Let's hope they just think he was winking at the crowd," you shook your head, smiling.

"Well, either way, it's pretty amazing. Look at him! He's totally in his element."

As the game commenced, you watched Ken with admiration. The way he effortlessly swung his bat, the precision in his throws, and the commanding presence he had on the field – it was clear he was born for this.

You could hardly contain the pride and joy swelling within you as you saw him in action. Being a part of his world, even if only from the sidelines, felt like a privilege. If only he knew how much you itched to scream, “Yeah! That’s my boyfriend!” proudly with your chest, you might have made your presence even more known. 

Occasionally, the stadium's giant screens would light up with the infamous "Kiss Cam," zooming in on couples in the crowd. Each time it happened, the fans would cheer and clap, urging the featured pair to share a kiss. 

Some couples laughed and played along, while others blushed and waved shyly at the camera. You and Mio watched the spectacle with amused smiles, sharing knowing glances whenever the camera swung close to your section.

After a few rounds, the stadium's energy shifted as the game went into a brief break. The "Kiss Cam" made its rounds again, eliciting cheers and laughter from the crowd. This time, to your surprise and slight horror, the camera zoomed in on you and the guy sitting beside you. The giant screen displayed your faces for all to see, and the audience erupted in cheers, urging you to kiss the stranger.

Mio sensed your discomfort and immediately tried to defuse the situation. She leaned in closer, putting her arm around you and making exaggerated gestures to draw the attention away from the awkward scenario. However, her efforts came to an abrupt halt as she caught sight of Ken sprinting towards you from across the field.

—

Just as the chants grew louder, Ken, who was about to take a sip of his water in the dugout, glanced at the screen. His eyes widened in shock as he saw you on the Kiss Cam with another man. "Hell nah," he muttered under his breath, dropping his water bottle without a second thought.

With determined speed, he sprinted across the field. The crowd's cheers turned into gasps of surprise as Ken vaulted over the net and made a beeline for your seat. In one swift motion, he pulled you into his arms and pressed his lips to yours in a deep, passionate kiss. The stadium erupted in a mix of astonished silence and wild applause.

As he broke the kiss, he glanced around at the crowd, a smug grin on his face, clearly enjoying the attention and the statement he had just made. You stood there, stunned and speechless, your heart pounding in your chest. 

Huh?!?!

“You alright, babe?” he chuckled softly at your reaction, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Then, his gaze shifted to the guy sitting beside you, his eyes darkening with possessiveness. The guy raised his hands in surrender, nervously shifting in his seat before quickly changing places with the person next to him.

Before you could respond, Ken peeled off his jersey, revealing the snug turtleneck underneath. He draped the jersey over your shoulders, its warmth and his scent enveloping you. "Way to make an entrance, Ken!" Mio, who had been trying to help you deflect the situation, burst into laughter.

Still breathless from the kiss, you managed to find your voice. "I can't believe you just did that," you said, a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration in your tone.

Ken grinned, pulling you close. "I couldn't let anyone else have you, not even for a second," he replied.

The crowd's cheers and the flashing cameras faded into the background as you focused on him. "You're going to make your PR team work overtime with this move," you quipped, a playful edge in your voice as you finally caught your breath.

"Let them work. They should get used to it," he replied confidently. 

You chuckled and pulled him into a kiss. The cameras flashed even more intensely, capturing every moment of your embrace. From the sidelines, Mio let out a loud wolf whistle, her laughter ringing out above the noise.

You smiled against Ken’s lips, thinking to yourself, so much for keeping things lowkey.

Dividers by: @anitalenia

[deadghosy]

I didn't know we could request readers getting hurt. In that case can I request the hotels cast reaction to dogday reader getting the game dogday treatment as an exterminator cuts them in half. Like game dogday they're still alive but ouchy

TW: GORE AND BLOOD MENTIONS (not detailed but it’s there)

HAZBIN HOTEL X DOGDAY! READER

prompt: during the fight against the Angels, you let your guard down at the wrong moment…..

You used your 8ft frame and to slap and crush the angels as Angel dust shoots the angel from your shoulder as husk throw explosive dice and sharp spade cards around you three. It was a good them effort as you had his stomped out an Angel with your huge paw. You were helping the hotel defend against the angels as you never saw this actually coming.

You heard a whimper seeing one of the egg boiz be chased by an angel as you ran over and crushed the angel’s head in your paw that had angelic metal in it. The egg boi immediately cuddled up to you as you picked it up.

You must have been so worried that you didn’t noticed an angel behind you and the egg. But it was too late as the egg boi’s eyes widen seeing an exterminator behind the two of you.

You felt a stab in your abdomen as you looked down to see an angelic spear stab you. You felt blood trickle down your mouth as it burned inside of you.

A piercing scream rang out the battle field as you felt you lose the strength seeing blood pour out. Your friends perk up at that knowing scream of yours. Charlie looks down from the roof with her father to see what was going on. She gasped covering her mouth lookin at you. The angel takes the spear out of you as she slashes your body in half.

Your upper and lower body collided to the ground and blood spill from your mouth hearing foot steps and an evil laughter as you heard someone’s voice. “DONT WORRY! WE’RE COMING SUNNY!” It was all muffled due to the blood loss as you couldn’t hear who it even was.

Blood filled your nose, screams, the feeling of blood loss, and the sounds of bombs blowing up. It all rang in your ears as the last thing you see is the angel who cut you being shot. Before you passed out.

You wake up seeing the crew look down relieved but some had a disturbed face as you tried to move your “legs”…..

Your legs….wait….

You look down to see your bottom half to be gone only to se a bandaged half. Your eyes widen shaking as the white pupils of your eyes disappear. You sob painfully looking down as your dog ears over your face. Charlie covers her mouth seeing your sadness at the lost of your legs as she hugs you .

Angel and husk joins as well as the other as they all crowed you trying to show that they are here for you. You felt loved, but what will you do now…….

Months has passed and you are in a wheel chair. At the loss of your legs, it’s like you became a new person who doesn’t smile much but still grant a smile towards a friend who needs one. You have the slight scent of vanilla but mixed with blood due to the blood in your body at times. Your voice also had changed as the scream you let out ruined your normal vocal cord. So now you sound a little depressed.

But still Charlie helps you to walk with you using your arms. You got the hang of it quickly but you’re use to the wheelchair since it doesn’t take your energy away.

Angel helps you move around in your wheel chair as he makes joke with you as you smile or with either grumble jokingly at his dirty jokes.

Lucifer, he’s trying to find a way to heal you as he feels like he failed to protect you. One of his own people. Even his own friend that he felt like you were as you always was friendly to other and him.

Alastor lets you sleep in your wheel chair as he plays soft jazz in your room or if you want to listen to his radio broadcast

Husk still snuggles again you but not like a cat in your lap type snuggle. Nah he just lays down with you on the couch as you snore while he purrs.

Niffty decorated your wheel chair to your liking as she smiles seeing your grateful smile as she hugs your fluffy arm.

[futurewdclandonorris]

Friends Don't | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Summary: you go out to celebrate George's home race win, not even imagining what the night will bring

Warnings: smut, drunk driving, unprotected sex

A/N: you will maybe have to necessarily read part 1 and part 2 hehe. For the sake of the plot, we'll pretend some things already happened. I've spent the whole week writing this and only got it to all click together from the third attempt. Third time's a charm, right? But at least had a blast while editing, which is a rarity. I actually enjoy writing these 'chapters' and building this world sm <3

Sundays were a day for rest and relaxation. A day for sitting down with a good book and a cup of coffee. A day for cuddling up with a loved one and watching a movie. A day for taking some time for yourself; a day to reflect and recharge.

That was, of course, unless your best friend was George Russell. And that your Sundays didn't consist of spending most weekends a year at different race tracks around the world. Not all of them, but you tried to be there for him at least once or twice a month, as much as the opportunity allowed.

That afternoon, George took the checkered flag in Silverstone in P1 and now you were in your room, preparing for tonight's celebration. The victory party was going to be wild, and you knew it. You had seen how George celebrated previous wins, and tonight was going to be no different. Especially because it was his home race.

You took a deep breath and glanced at yourself in the mirror. You had dressed to impress, wearing a sparkly blue dress that fit you perfectly. Finishing your look with a pair of strappy heels and a silver necklace, you couldn't help but think about how previous events with George brought you even closer together.

Your friendship kind of became more... intimate. No pun intended. Guess you were both afraid not to lose each other over the past experiences, and that deepened your bond whether either of you wanted to admit or not. Now your only fear was that your closeness wouldn't tear you apart.

A soft knock pulled you out of your thoughts and you turned around to see George standing at the door with a sheepish grin on his face. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants, his hair tousled in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

"Hey there, gorgeous," he said, his voice low and husky. "Ready to party?"

Never before have you paid any mind to the nicknames he called you, but now a thrill ran down your spine. The way he looked at you made you feel like the only person in the world.

"I am," you said, smiling at him.

As you stepped out of the door, George took your hand in his and led you to the car waiting outside. The drive to the club was short, but the anticipation was high. The party was in full swing when you arrived; loud music, flashing lights, and the smell of alcohol filled the air.

George led you to the VIP section where his friends and family were already celebrating. You saw his siblings and a few of his close racing buddies. You could hear their loud cheering as they saw George walk in with you and feel the envious glares of the other women in the room.

George handed you a glass of champagne and raised his own in a toast. "To the best damn team in the world," he said, looking at you and his friends.

Everyone cheered and clinked their glasses together. You took a sip of the bubbly liquid, feeling it go down smoothly. The night was young, and the energy in the room was electric.

The party kept going on as the night deepened, and the noise of the songs blasted through the room. Glasses were filled up with drinks constantly, making it more of an effort to ignore the effects of the booze. You found yourself on the dance floor, surrounded by George and his friends. The bass of the music throbbed in your chest, and you let yourself get lost in the rhythm.

Throughout the night, each person had a chance to take their turn with you on the dance floor, and eventually you were spinning around in George's arms. The heat of the club mixed with the buzz of the alcohol made your skin flush against his. You could feel his muscles flexing as he twirled you around, his hand firmly holding onto yours. The closer you danced, the more the tension between you grew.

For a moment, you forgot where you were and who was watching. You moved on him like it was just the two of you in the world, your hands moving over his body like never before, and hips swaying in perfect synchronicity. You were so close to him that you could feel his breath on your neck, and the scent of his cologne filled your senses. You felt yourself getting lost in him, and something stirred inside you.

And it seemed like George caught up on your odd behavior as the song faded away. He grabbed your arm and started leading you away from the dance floor until you reached a quiet corner. But your drunken mind wasn't understanding his intentions.

You threw yourself onto him and he had to secure your hips with his hands to stop you from slipping. You let out a hazy chuckle as you started grinding against him once more before he pushed you back against the wall.

"Stop it, that's not why I brought you here."

But you didn't listen. You pulled yourself even closer, letting your lips brush against his neck. "Then why did you bring me here?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, your breath tickling his skin. "The drinks have gone to your head. I brought you here to take a break and cool off a little." he avoided telling you that you were drunk and not acting like yourself, afraid to provoke any unnecessary argument between you two.

Still, you weren't paying any attention. You were too inebriated to realize that your behavior was a little out of character, and you certainly weren't considering the consequences of your actions. You clasped your hands around his shoulders and pressed yourself against him again.

George tried to keep a respectable distance between you, pushing his hip backwards as you pushed yours forward, fighting the urge to get too close. That got you into an interesting position; you were leaning against the wall in between his arms with your shoulders as he leaned into you with his upper body. Your hand naughtily ran down his side, poking him. You knew you probably shouldn't touch him, but you couldn't stop yourself. His muscles strained as he let out a shaky breath.

"You're getting awfully close to me," he murmured, unable to bring himself to look you in the eye. His fingers slowly slid from their grip on the wall.

"Then don't push me away," you said back.

His face was just inches away now, and your lips unconsciously moved closer. The atmosphere between you two was thick with anticipation, a feeling that you currently relished in. Your lips were only a breath away from his when he spoke.

"We can't." his eyes locked with yours.

"Why?" you asked breathily.

"Because we're best friends." his voice was barely a whisper.

He hoped the reason he gave you would remind you of everything you asked from him that first time. But he didn't tell you that he feared you'd regret it when you sobered up, and that it would be his fault for not stopping it.

"And?" in the state that you were, did he really think that would stop you? He couldn't have been more wrong. You wanted to push him to feel something. Anything. "Best friends can do a lot of things." you smirked.

He clenched his jaw, his eyes still on yours. "No, they can't." he gritted, shaking his head.

"You're right." you said, the alcohol clouding your judgment. "They can't do this." and your hips finally met his.

He swallowed hard, trying to stay level headed. "What am I going to do with you?" he said in desperation, his hands pressed flat on the wall behind you, trying their best not to touch you as they dangerously started slipping down.

You placed your hands on his chest, feeling his heart hammering under your palms as you glided them down his torso. "Remember how you said you can read my body language?"

"Yeah," he breathed, nodding his head.

"What is it telling you now?" you whispered against his lips.

"It's telling me we're going to be in big trouble if you don't stop this," he replied. "You have no idea what you're doing to me right now."

"Then don't fight it. Show me." you murmured.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours. Your arms snaked around his neck and fingers twined through the hair at its nape, pulling him closer. You couldn't believe that you had done all those other things, but never kissed. And when ultimately his mouth closed on yours, it was like finally locating the elusive jigsaw piece on a seemingly ordinary Tuesday while tidying up your home that you thought had been lost forever. It made you almost not want to kiss anyone else ever again — almost, because deep down you knew you shouldn't have been doing this in the first place.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as his head tilted to get a better angle. The kiss was soft, tentative, like both of you were very aware of what might happen. You pressed your mouth against his more firmly, tasting him. Parting your lips slightly, you felt the silky wetness of his tongue on yours. You bit his lower lip, letting out a deep moan when he groaned in response, hands that were in his hair tugging on the strands slightly. He groaned into your mouth again, pulling you even closer against him. You had no idea how long you were kissing, but it was definitely not enough.

The kiss broke, and you leaned your face against his neck, panting heavily. He glanced down at you, his lips so close to yours that if you had merely lifted your head, they'd be touching again. The warmth emanating from your body made him want to do things he knew he shouldn’t. He placed his forehead against yours, trying desperately to get control of himself.

"We should get back." he said between breaths. Your head was spinning from the alcohol and his scent and the magical kiss, it took you a moment to realize you were no longer kissing him. You opened your eyes and met with him.

"We should, before they realize we're missing." you nodded. He frowned, but his eyes were smiling. He was relieved, but he was also worried for you and what tomorrow might bring when you sobered up.

"Lets go," he said, turning around, but kept an arm around your waist so as to not let you get lost. You looped one arm around his neck, holding onto his shoulder, and gently hit his other shoulder with your head.

The night was still young and the party was still going. Music was playing, people were dancing, and laughter filled the room. Your friends cheered when they saw you two come in together, but neither of you paid any attention to them; all that mattered was that you were here, with him. Guys grabbed drinks for the both of you from different parts of the room and put it in your hands.

You found a spot on the couch and George sat next to you, his arm around your waist protectively. The conversations flowed easily between you two, and soon enough you both forgot what had happened earlier as you joined the rest of the group in drinking, singing along with music and laughing.

He later found you on the dance floor swaying around completely out of rhythm with a drink in your hand. Your face lit up when you saw him.

"There you are, my champion." you leaned into him, dropping your head onto his shoulder.

"I won the race, not the championship.” he chuckled.

“Mm, don’t care. To me you are the champion.” you slurred, pouting.

“Hey, is everything alright?" he asked, supporting you.

"Mmhmm." you mumbled. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine." you could hear the frown on his face. "You're drunk." he spat as he attempted to take away the half empty glass from your grasp.

"I'm not." you said, feeling yourself lose your balance a little as you swayed back and forth. He put his arm around you to help you balance.

"Yes, you are. I should've taken you home the first time around." he sighed, somehow not surprised you managed to get even drunker. You were both intoxicated for that matter, it's just that George knew how to hold his liquor. And he looked to never go over his limit in case something like this happened.

"No." you tried to pull away from him.

"I'm taking you home." he tightened his grip around you, leading you out of the party. You mumbled something in response, not quite sure what you were saying.

He helped you into his car and buckled your seat belt for you, before getting in himself. He drove slowly, carefully navigating the roads while you were almost passed out in his passenger seat. Every now and then he'd take a hand off the wheel to reach over and brush your hair away from your face or wipe away a stray tear from your cheek if one escaped your eye. As he turned into your street and parked the car, your eyes fluttered open.

"Um, could you walk me to the door?" you asked.

"I was planning on it," he said, unbuckling his seat belt.

Both of your arms wrapped around his left one, holding on for support, as he walked you to your apartment. Your little nap helped clear the haze from your head, but you were still tipsy. When you reached the entrance of your flat, you propped yourself against the door and blinked up at him.

"Do you want to come inside?" inviting your best friend into your home have never before seemed more dangerous and George should've known better than to say yes.

"Do you want anything to drink?" you asked to break an awkward silence that fell among you the moment he shut the door.

Before even waiting for his answer, you made your way towards the kitchen, but he extended his arm and grabbed your waist, preventing you from moving further.

"I think we both had enough to drink tonight," he said.

"Then what do you want to do?" you whispered.

"I want to claim my prize." he must have had a few more drinks than usual at the club to summon up the courage for that sentiment.

You could feel your heart racing in your chest, the alcohol still fogging your mind but not enough to miss the implication of his words. You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his intense gaze. His hand still rested on your waist, his fingers tracing small circles over the fabric of your dress.

"Is that what I am, a prize?"

"No, no." he said quickly, his eyes softening. "You're so much more than that, you know that." his hand cupped the side of your face. "When I saw you looking up at me on the podium today, I realized I couldn't have done it without you. You were the one who had been cheering me on from the sidelines all this time. You've been there for me when no one else was." he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You've been my lucky charm all these years and I want to show you how much you mean to me."

The way he was looking at you made your chest heave with a mixture of emotions. You were both under the influence, and you knew this was not the best time to make decisions, but you couldn't resist him. You leaned in and attached your lips together again, only this time with more passion, more desire. You could feel his hands running through your hair as he kissed you back, his tongue playing with yours, his body pressing against yours.

He pulled away, looking at you with a hunger you had never seen before. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

You nodded, unable to say anything. His lips crashed onto yours, hungrily claiming your mouth as his own. Your body responded to his touch, your hands roaming over his chest and tangling in his hair. He lifted you up, your legs locking around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom.

He laid you down gently on the mattress, his eyes never leaving yours. Climbing on top of you, his lips trailed kisses down your neck and collarbone. You moaned softly, your hands gripping tightly onto his muscular back. He pulled his lips away from you, looking into your eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked again.

You nodded, reaching up and pulling him back down. He gently kissed you again and you responded in kind, but he pulled away again.

"I'll stop if you tell me to." he whispered. "I don't want to do this unless you want to." 

"I want to." you murmured. The alcohol may have distorted your judgment, but it surely helped your courage.

"Are you sure?" he asked a third time. You laughed softly, trying to push him off. He had you pinned to the mattress, still pressing you down.

"Yes, I'm sure." you said, no longer laughing.

That was all he needed to hear. He kissed you hard, his fingers lightly tracing over the fabric of your dress. He ran his hands underneath, gently resting them on your ribs, and pulled your dress upwards. You lifted your hands above your head, freeing him of the task of removing your dress as you squiggled out of it and freed yourself from the restriction that was your dress.

He kissed you again, letting his hands run over your bare skin. His lips kissed down your throat and chest, his hands undoing your bra. He pulled it away and tossed it aside, taking in the sight of you.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he said. You blushed, and he smiled. His lips traveled down your leg, gently caressing the outside of your thigh. "But I'm a little jealous, you know?" his lips traveled back up, his tongue tracing over the slope of your breast and hands kneading them softly. "You got to taste me, and I..."

He kissed his way down your body, his hands going over every inch of exposed skin, reminding you how skillfully he handled you that very first time. He reached your inner thigh and slid his hand underneath your underwear. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his fingers brush against you before a long finger slid inside you. You moaned loudly, spreading your legs apart for him. He smiled against your neck, his teeth taking in your skin, his tongue leaving a trail of fire behind.

His finger slowly moved inside you, circling you before sliding in and out. His hand pulled your underwear down, you kicking them off to the side. His mouth moved down your figure, hovering over your breasts. He teased you for a moment, blowing against your nipples before drawing the tip of his tongue over one. He did the same with the other, his fingers never ceasing to move. His kisses continued further down, over your stomach until they reached your mound.

"Can I?" he asked, peeking at you.

"Please..." you tried to hide the shake in your voice.

His tongue slid between your lips, gently licking you. You could feel his breath, hot and heavy against your sensitive skin. He teased you, his tongue circling your clit before sliding inside you. His tongue flicked over your clit, his hands holding your thighs apart. You spread your legs even wider, your body arching up to him. He leaned in, gently sucking on your clit and you moaned loudly, his tongue moving faster. You cried out in pleasure, your hips bucking against his face.

You were nearing your end, your moans growing louder with every movement of his tongue. You could feel his lips smile against your skin, enjoying the sounds you were making. You cried out, your body tensing as you came, shaking against him. He pulled away, slowly kissing his way up to the top again. He placed a gentle kiss on your lips, not hurrying you up as you sucked in his bottom lip, squeezing out your own juices.

"Taking that trophy is the second best thing that has ever happened to me." he whispered. He kissed you again, this time with more passion, your hands reaching for the buttons of his shirt. "The first, of course, being you. You're my greatest reward." he continued as you trailed kisses down his neck, removing the shirt off his shoulders.

"Stop talking, George."

"Sorry," he whispered as he closed his eyes, surrendering above you.

You kissed his chest, your nails raking up and down his sides, feeling his muscles tense. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and could sense the urgency in his touch. His hardness pressed against you, begging to be liberated. You pulled away from him, reaching for his belt buckle and his eyes shot open, hands reaching for yours.

"Are you sure?" he asked again. He knew if you go any further there would be no going back and some irreversible things would be done.

"Are you sure?" you asked back, smiling mischievously. "I thought this is what you wanted." your nail dangerously circled around his lower abdomen, causing his breath to hitch with every word he spoke.

"I-I do. I'm just making sure you're not doing it just because I want it." you could tell he was really struggling to hold himself back.

"I think we've already established that..." you whispered against his lips and prompted your body more to his.

"Okay," his hand moved away from yours, and you undid his belt.

His pants fell around his feet and he kicked them off. His boxers were the last thing left, and you reached for them, slowly pulling them down. His hand held the back of your head as he kissed you, his tongue twirling around yours. You moved to pull away but he held on tighter.

His boxers hit the floor and you looked up at him, his hands resting on your frame. Gently taking your hand, he placed it on his dick. You gasped, feeling it grow even more underneath your touch. He pulled away, his lips planting kisses down your neck as his hand guided yours up and down his length. You felt him shiver as you grazed the tip with your nails, his breath hitching. He removed his hand, and your eyes shot open when you felt his tip brush against your entrance.

He teased you, running it up and down your slit. You threw your head back in pleasure, your back arching against him. The more he prolonged what you needed the most, the more your neediness grew. You tried to guide him inside you but he resisted, placing a finger on your lips instead. He dragged it over them before he made you suck on it, his eyes never leaving your face as he blew a stream of air out. Your eyes widened when you felt his head brush against you again, making you gasp audibly, his name falling from your lips.

"Please," you remembered what he told you the first time he had you in his arms like this. "Please, please, please, please, please, please, please..." you chanted over and over again.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath. Hearing you beg for him made his head spin again. It was like you'd put him under a spell every time you'd utter that word and he'd not be able to deny you anything. Not that he ever wanted.

He slowly pushed inside of you, stopping at every inch to wait for you to adjust. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

You nodded, your breath hitching as he began to move again. He kissed you, your nails digging into his back as he stretched you more. He was so gentle, it was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. This was not the normal rough, lustful sex. This was the man who loved the sight of you, the sounds of your pleasure. This was the man who wanted to make love to you, to show you what true pleasure was.

Your fingers sank into his back again, and he responded by thrusting into you harder, your moans getting louder. His lips traveled down your chest, his tongue flicking a nipple as he pushed into you again.

"Oh, god." you moaned, George's name falling from your mouth repeatedly. Your hands dug into the sheets as his thrusts grew harder, deeper.

"You feel so good... so damn good," he kissed your skin. "Making me feel like I don't ever want to take anybody else again."

"Don't stop, please, whatever it is that you're doing, please, just don't stop." you cried, twining your legs around him to press him deeper.

He moaned in pleasure when you did, his hands tightening their grip around you. His breathing grew heavier and faster, your bodies reacting to each other. He was so close, and he could feel you held right on the edge.

You cried out his name, your form shuddering under him. He had no intention of stopping, and he continued his movements as you kept shaking, your voice loud enough to wake up the whole apartment complex.

"You, George, only you…" you whispered into his ear as you were coming down.

You felt his whole build shake, his cock pulsing inside of you, but it wasn't enough. You wanted to hear him as he climaxed. You wanted to hear the sounds he made, the sweetest song in the world.

"George… George…" you panted, your breathing coming out in jagged breaths.

He cursed, as his body trembled with pleasure. His hands tightened around you, pulling you closer as he came. You buried your face in his neck, your fingers playing with his hair. He kissed you, holding you close to him. He wanted to stay inside you forever, to feel the sight of your face as he pleased you. You did that to him. You were the one making him see another reality where only he and you existed.

But he pulled away, your eyes searching for his as you slowly came back to reality. He kissed you again, his lips landing on yours.

"That was amazing… you were amazing…" he whispered, stroking your face gently.

"So were you." you said back, playing with the bangs that fell over his forehead.

He rested his head on your chest, finding a comfortable spot, your hands moving into his hair.

"Are you going to stay?" you whispered, uncertain.

"Only if you want me to."

"Always."

He hugged you tightly and rolled over so that you were now on top of him. His fingers softly ran along your back as your body let go and fully relaxed. The peaceful sound of your heartbeats and his breath seemed to take over the room. You drew near to him, feeling the up and down movements of his chest gently rock you to sleep, matters of your friendship left for tomorrow's morning news.

Next part

[enwoso]

a blurb where Lovie is as clumsy as alessia is and keeps falling over and bumping into things and spilling stuff but she hops back up so quickly and is like I’m ok

NOT SO ELEGANT — alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

there were many things you had inherited from your mum, like your big blue eyes, your hair colour, your infectious little giggle and your mother's clumsiness. or as alessia liked to rephrase it as being not so aware of her surroundings.

you were forever bumping into things, dropping things or even just falling over. alessia was forever trying to make sure that there were no serious dangers around especially when you were known to bump into even the smallest of things.

it was getting to the point where even the arsenal girls had noticed your clumsiness.

"lovie, do you still wanna show beth your dance?" your mummy asked as you sat at a table, a cup of juice dangerously close to the edge of the table as you watched your ipad. the team was filitering back into the canteen from the afternoon gym session.

"yes, yes!" you jumped up, a big smile as your arms went into the air, on their way knocking your cup of juice into the seat. "oh... it's okay mummy, just a little bit of juice" you frowned looking at the juice dripping onto the floor moving your feet so that they didn't get wet.

"your alright, you show beth your dance and i'll clean this" your mummy reassured you, lifting you out from the seat to ensure you didn't get wet, beth looking on shaking her head a slight snicker coming from her.

"what you like tiny!" she ruffled your hair as you wondered near beth who was in the middle of asking your mum if she wanted any help, alessia waving the girl off as a big grin was plastered across your face. a lot of work had gone into your dance. "let's see this dance then!"

"wait, i need music!" you moved from your starting position, pointing towards beth's phone.

"what song would you like tiny?" beth asked as you mulled over it for a few seconds before a song name came into your head.

“that one viv likes, the one about summer” you smiled, viv had introduced you to taylor swift last week when you were on the road to an away game, her telling you her favourite and for the past week all you had wanted on the radio or the tv was taylor swift.

beth pulling a puzzled face as she tried to quickly remember which song you were talking about, “ah cruel summer?” she asked as you nodded quickly.

beth tapped away at her phone as you got into your starting position in a bit of space in the middle of the canteen, beth giving you the thumbs up that she had pressed play.

you began to do your dance, which was more just you kicking your leg around and flaying your arms around in a time that wasn’t really in rhythm with the song but you were just little so it was cute.

a few more of the girls had come through from the gym stopping in the doorway, their faces lighting up with smiles as they saw you performing your dance, which you had made sure to tell and show all of the arsenal girls.

“yes tiny!” katie hyped you out from the side a few of the other girls, like leah, caitlin, vic and viv clapping you on. alessia was watching on with a small giggle having watched you do this countless times around your living room in past two days alone.

it was going so well, you had put even more energy and effort into the movements but it of course was going to well. you getting a little close to the chair and as you turned to kick your leg out again, your leg got stuck on the chair.

making your trip, a loud crash sound echoed through the room, you landing straight on your knees. a loud gasp coming from the girls watching as the music continued to play. the girls unsure weather to laugh or be seriously concerned or if it was part of your routine.

but coming from the concerned look that had risen on your mums face. it ruled out the possibility of it being part of the dance routine.

“well that wasn’t very elegant-“ katie mumbled as caitlin slapped the girl on the shoulder giving her a stern look as katie held her hands up defensively.

“beth! turn the music off?” viv called out from the side of the room as beth scrambled to turn it off.

“lovie?” your mummy called out with caution, unsure if you were hurt and if the tears were going to start. the girls still looking on not knowing how to react.

“i’m okay!” you jumped back up, a big grin on your face as the girls cheered. you wondering off to your mummy who wasn’t as convinced.

“are you sure you okay?” she asked as you stood inbetween her legs, your mummy fixing the clip that was in your hair as it came loose when you were dancing around.

you nodded, a smile still on your face. “yes, it didn’t even hurt mummy” you played off so confidently as the rest of girls had settled into the canteen and sat down not that your little intervention was finished.

“think you may have to retire the dancing shoes tiny!” vic joked as she took a seat next to your mummy as your eyebrows furrowed a little.

“noo the chair was just in my way, pavlova” you giggled, as you dragged out your words a small giggle coming from your mummy as you used the nickname she had given vic.

you began to wonder off to talk to the other girls, but not without bumping into emily and tripping over another chair leg that was poking out.

“she’s definitely your child less!” vic laughed as alessia rolled her eyes sighing at the fact you had in fact inherited alessia’s clumsiness, and in fact you might actually be worse…

[tornioduva]

Dungeon meshi and body proportions

Ok, i'm feeling the rush i got from binging the manga this last week is starting to fade away, i'll be back to being a normal person soon i think. at least, that is before i find a new something for me to dive into uhuh.

Before that happens, i want to praise Ryoko Kui for one last think. The design of the characters!

For years i've expressed (maybe not so much online) my hate towards the "anime style", this homogenization of traits and beauty standards to an artificial degree, and the mass spread and consumption of it. yes, trends exist for a reason, this is not the first nor the last art current to be popular and i'm not the first detractor of one in history. I do think there is something uniquely harmful in this one though, and that is why i'm able to find the energy to be such a pretentious dipshit about it. That is a discussion for another day though.

All this to say that going through Dungeon Meshi and seiing these characters, plus (and in a way because of it) all the additional sketches of the daydream hour bonus sections, was such a breath of fresh air! (at least for what concerns japanese exported stories)

All i could say and praise in regard to character designs in general is perfectly expressed in this video, which i recommend you to watch if you want to hear my opinions (and the video author's too, uhuh):

I want to leave you though with at least one specific praise for me: Falin.

i've seen countless time people (online) just not understanding how people's body work, how much differences there can be and how proportions do distribute and affect the body. in anime I see a lot of short and tall people (mostly women girls) that share the same proportions despite their actual height, and that often leads to think "yeah, she is short" and than she's tall when around someone, or (most often) the contrary. same lenght of limbs, same head to body proportions, and little details like this.

Falin you can tell at a glance she is a tall woman before she's around anyone, even when she is standing near her brother who is taller than her.

Kui did her homework in studying bodies and variations, and, whether consciously or not, she differentiated her in body in subtle but fundamental ways: her head being slightly smaller than her body, the neck being fairly long, and her having somewhat broader shoulders.

I accept that there might be an element of suggestion at play here, considering also how she is dressed most of the time, but I really do think there is a direct effort at differentiation here.

This is the first time in a long time (in a series like this at least) where i've seen a woman carrying herself around others and the space around here kind of like a person like me, tall, would; at first i didn't think much of it, but then i saw her near other characters and....i don't know, i felt a warm, joyful feeling, seeing that i was right in recognizing that trait and being right.

I was especially happy in seeing her next to marcille. not so much for the height difference, but for how different they were in proportions and mannerism. A lesser manga i fear would have used marcille's body type and way of moving and interacting as the default for most other girls, but here she was uniquely herself!

Now, i could've used more extreme exemples to show how this author rocks in body types representations (while aknowledging there could've been even more diversification still), given there are far larger, taller and stranger women, but to me, nailing the little, most subtle details in such a chirurgical manner shows a greater level of mastery and comprehension. As such, Falin left me with a deeper fascination than most other characters.

Sorry for this wall of text, but i needed to let my happy thoughts go, so that i could be free again uhuh.

Feel free to tell me that i'm wrong, or that i should just accept anime media as is. i'm just really happy Dungeon meshi exists as is and i want Ryoko Kui to keep refining her craft, and drawing beautiful women and dwarves.

Plus, this was very much a stream of consciousness, i didn't go into technical details about what i think conveyed what i described, but if someone is interested, or does not get what i'm saying (while expressing it in a curious and gentle way, i won't respond to spiteful assholes), i'll be happy to make a follow up post in which i try to dissect this! For example, i didn't reread the whole manga to find examples of her, i just went to the wiki uhuh. in a follow up post maybe i'll try to go through chapters and pick more specific examples of her.

Anyway, have a good day!

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Come Home With Me (part 1)

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x reader

Warnings: angst

a/n: was sorta crying while writing this, i love this sm..there’s going to be part 2! hope you enjoy it!

From the first moment one of your close friends told you she was getting married, you knew you'd have to mentally prepare for the fact that on her wedding day, your ex would be there.

It wasn't just any ex. It was Carlos Sainz. Your first true love. The boy you thought was the one. The boy with whom you were the happiest ever and for whom you thought there was no one else after him.

But things don't always work out the way we want them to. There is no greater pain than when two people who are made for each other meet at the wrong time.

Even though you both knew it would be difficult, you didn't want to give up on each other at first. When you met, you were 23 and he was 28. You were in the middle of finishing college in Madrid, which meant a lot of responsibilities, a lot of sacrifices, a lot of hard work and effort, a lot of suffering. And he just signed the contract with Ferrari and wanted to prove himself, show what he can do, show that he deserves to be where he is, he focused all his time and energy on his career.

You pushed together for two years, you tried somehow to find time for each other, but over time it became too difficult. He had no understanding of your needs, he devoted himself too much to work and, if you were the one to ask, in the end he gave up too easily on you, on the two of you.

Being with him was difficult at times, but being without him was countless times worse.

Even though you were very young when you first started dating, you wanted everything with him. You didn't see yourself with anyone else but him, nor did you want anyone else but him. And he, 5 years older than you, for him you were not his first love, but you were his greatest. You were his niña. That's how he used to call you. His niña bonita.

You were the one who ended things with him, but that didn't ease your pain at all. On the contrary, you expected him to fight for you, to say okay, we'll find a way to solve this, but he didn't. Therefore, you couldn't wait to finish college and return home to Monaco. You adored Madrid, you fell in love with that city as much as you did with Carlos, but after the breakup it was simply impossible to stay where every street, park, square, every corner where you were together reminded you immeasurably of him.

And so two years later, when your friend Isabella told you she was getting married and that Carlos would be at the wedding, you knew you weren't ready to see him. Two years later you had a new boyfriend Andrew, but deep down you knew you never got over Carlos.

Isabella was the one who introduced you to Carlos. The two of them have always been good friends, so it was logical that he would be invited, but you didn't think about it at all because you tried to suppress every thought about him. You knew you weren’t ready, but there wasn’t nothing you could do about it.

When that long-awaited wedding day came, as you all watched the bride walk towards the altar, you couldn't help but search for his face in the crowd of people in the church.

You shifted in place the whole time, your knees rocking back and forth. Even Andrew noticed something was going on with you.

“Are you alright, love?” He startled you when he asked. You almost forgot Andrew was standing right there behind you.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.” You gave him a fake reassuring smile just so that he doesn’t ask any more questions.

You searched and searched and suddenly your eyes stopped at the last row of benches. There he stood, in a dark blue suit, his hair brushed to the side and freshly cut, more beautiful than ever. When you saw him, you didn't know that his brown eyes had already been watching you ever since he entered the church.

Your eyes immediately filled with tears as your gaze met his. It was the perfect moment to pretend you were crying for Isabella walking down the aisle.

“You sure you’re alright?” Andrew whisper-asked again.

“I’m just emotional, everything’s okay.”

In the evening when you arrived at the hotel where the wedding party was, your idea of ​having a good time was long forgotten. The venue was beautiful and luxurious. Everyone was happy, dancing and enjoying the newlyweds' day, only you were extremely nervous because you could feel Carlos' eyes on you all evening.

You tried to ignore him, to relax with a few drinks, but it was simply impossible to pretend he wasn't there.

“I'm going to go out on the terrace for some fresh air, okay?” You turned to Andrew who was talking to a friend that was sitting next to him.

“Okay, love. Give me a kiss.” He said. You leaned down to peck his lips before taking a glass of champagne and heading out.

There were a few people on the terrace, but you found an empty corner for yourself. You leaned your elbows on the fence and took a deep breath, closing your eyes in front of the night lights of beautiful Monaco.

Feeling the cool breeze on your skin, you wished it would take away all the pressure and sadness you carried with you. You wished that it would clear up everything cloudy in your mind that has been preventing you from moving on for two years already.

After about 10 minutes, you pulled yourself together and wanted to go back inside. Just as you finished up the champagne from the glass, you turned to go inside, but suddenly your breath stopped when you saw none other than Carlos standing behind you with his hands in his pockets and watching you with tilted head.

Your heart started pounding like crazy and your body froze in front of him.

“Carlos..” You barely spoke in a whisper.

“Y/n” He said quietly taking a step closer to you making you take a step back until your back hit the fence.

You didn't know what to say, what to do, even if you wanted to run away, your feet were as if glued to the floor. You just stood there in front of him looking straight into his eyes.

“What are you doing out here alone?” He asks breaking the silence between you two.

“I just needed to get some fresh air, that’s all.” You weren’t lying.

“Did my presence make you nervous?”

“No, your presence here doesn’t have anything to do with me.” But now you were.

“How have you been?”

“Good, very good actually.” Another lie.

“You’re not gonna ask me how I’ve been?”

“That’s none of my business anymore, so no. I don’t care.” He nods his head at your untrue words looking down at the floor.

“So who is that boy you came with?”

“That’s Andrew. My boyfriend.” You say biting the inside of your cheek. You almost felt guilty for calling him your boyfriend. Andrew. You were sure he was gonna go look for you if you don’t come back soon. “I should go. He’s probably looking for me right now.” You say trying to walk by past him, but he stops you by pulling you back by your elbow.

“Don’t go yet.”

“Why not? We have nothing to talk about.” You pull your elbow out of his grip, but you don't leave.

“Because you never left my mind.” He says. “Or heart.” He adds.

“It’s a little too late for that. You should’ve thought about that before you let me go.”

“Y/n, you were the one who broke up with me. I never wanted to end things between us.”

“You didn’t want to end things between us yet you gave up on us without a fight, so easily Carlos..” You fought with yourself not to cry. You didn't want to look weak in front of him even though you wanted to let him know how much he hurt you.

“That doesn’t mean I stopped loving you.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better or what?” You asked with a sneer. “I have a boyfriend now, I moved on Carlos. I’m happy.” You say hoping you sound convincing at least to him if not to yourself.

“You’re lying, I know you are. I can feel it.” He takes another step closer until you can feel his breath on your skin as he looks down at you. He puts his hands on the fence on either side so that you are between them. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but you know you’re always gonna be mi niña. Mi niña bonita.” Your heart aches and trembles at the same time at your forever favorite nickname. He puts his hand on your cheek as he leans very close to your face.

“Carlos, stop..” Your voice cracks as you lean your cheek into his hand.

“Come home with me, baby. Please.”

“And where is that Carlos? Where is my home?”

“Your home is in Madrid, with me.” His hands move from your face to your hands taking them into his and bringing them to his lips.

“You know, while Isabella was walking down the aisle, I couldn't help but imagine that it was you, and that I was there waiting for you at the altar.” Tears just flowed down your cheeks as you listened to him say everything you once wanted to hear.

“Remember how we used to fantasize about it. I still want all of that, y/n. Letting you go was the biggest mistake ever. I am so sorry baby.”

“Yet you never cared enough to look for me. Your words don’t match your actions, Carlos.” Once again you pull yourself out of his grip and step away further from him. Listening to him was causing you too much pain especially because you still wanted all of that as well, but your pride did not allow you to surrender to your emotions.

“Because I knew you were suffering and I didn’t want to be the reason of that! I’m sorry, y/n, I wish I could go back in time and make you stay.” He says flustered, waving his arms.

Right in that moment, Andrew’s voice interrupts you breaking you from your bubble in which you found yourself in completely forgetting where you are.

“Y/n?” You quickly wipe the tears from your cheeks and the smeared mascara under your eyes.

“Well, I’m sorry too, Carlos.” With that you leave him standing there on the terrace as you turn around and head towards Andrew.

part 2

[barcaatthemoon]

misunderstanding || alexia putellas x reader ||

alexia shuts you out after a loss, failing to notice how pressure you had put on yourself to win.

your team was supposed to have the game in the bag. this was supposed to be an easy win. still, alexia and jonaton had reminded you that it was important to play your best. you weren't sure when, but slowly throughout the game, everybody started to relax a little. it seemed that two goals conceded were no big deal whenever everyone knew that it was only a matter of time before barcelona pulled ahead. unfortunately, that moment never came and the bus was eerily silent as everybody filed on to go home.

alexia sat by herself on the bus. she had placed her bag in the seat that you had planned to take before you even had a chance to get on the bus. you had stared at the spot sadly until lucy and ona pushed you towards the back of the bus. not getting to sit by alexia was bad enough, but the look of disappointment that she had shot you was even worse.

"chin up bebita," mapi told you. like alexia, you had taken a whole seat to yourself. if you couldn't sit next to your girlfriend, you didn't want to sit next to anybody. mapi knew this and respected it, even if she did want to comfort you. she hated seeing you upset, especially when the loss wasn't even really your fault. it had truly been a team effort, and alexia shouldn't have solely looked at you like that as you passed her.

"mapi, just don't," you said softly. everybody around you frowned at the defeated tone in your voice. you put your headphones on and leaned your head against the window as you stared out at the scenery. spain was absolutely beautiful, which was one of the main reasons that you had followed lucy to barcelona whenever she told you about it. photography was one of your other passions, and there was ample opportunity to capture some truly beautiful pictures in the foreign country.

halfway through the ride, you felt someone slip into the seat next to you. a part of you was hopeful that it was alexia, only to be disappointed when you saw your older sister sitting next to you. lucy knew that she wasn't who you wanted, but she couldn't just sit there while you were so upset and do nothing. she slipped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into an embrace. it took everything for you not to start crying. when the bus arrived at the stadium, you wanted nothing more than to just go home, but it seemed alexia had other plans.

"team meeting in the locker room before anyone leaves," alexia announced. she was the first in, quickly followed by most of the other girls. you contemplated not going in, but you knew that alexia would rip into you if you did. so, you stood by the door, ready to make a quick exit if you got upset.

alexia hadn't even begun talking yet whenever it hit you. all she had to do was look at you before you had bolted out of the locker room with a quick, "no."

"shit, (y/n)!" lucy called out as she chased you out of the locker room. you may not have been at the club as long as her, but you had found out a couple of good hiding spots that most of the team didn't know about. your favorite was the place that alexia had shown you for clearing your head. you could get quite emotional sometimes, and she knew that you didn't want to appear like a crybaby to everybody else.

"what is her problem?" alexia asked as she caught up to lucy. lucy turned towards her captain with a look of barely restrained anger. alexia quickly matched the energy, not caring whether or not it was helpful in the moment. "she wasn't dismissed."

"check yourself before you go to her. if she comes to me later upset because of you, we're going to have problems," lucy threatened. she poked her finger into alexia's chest, causing the captain to scoff. "i'm serious. i don't care if you are the captain, if you hurt my sister, i'll kick your ass."

"whatever," alexia huffed. lucy walked back to the locker room, leaving alexia to stand there. she was still angry, but lucy's words were replaying again and again in the back of her head. alexia found you with ease hiding in one of the empty closets in the gear room. she opened her mouth to say something, but stopped when she noticed the sniffling. "did i do this to you?"

"ale, leave me alone," you told her. alexia didn't listen to you, ignoring the glare you sent her as she bent down next to you.

"i'm trying to check on you. what is wrong?" alexia asked you. she tried to put her hand on your shoulder, but you jerked away from her. "(y/n), come on."

"alexia, just go!" you winced at the harshness in your voice. trying again, you softened it as you pleaded with her, "please, just leave me alone."

"how can i leave you here like this? why won't you talk to me?" alexia was trying to fight her frustration, but it was definitely a losing battle. she was angry about the near loss of the game and allowing herself to sit and simmer with her anger did not make anything better. she had put herself in a bad mindset to comfort you, but alexia felt like she owed it to you to try. there was no doubt that you had taken the loss as hard as she had, and alexia knew that you worked so hard to prove that you deserved to get minutes in these games.

"alexia, i can't handle you looking at me like that, so please just leave." you were on the verge of sobbing, glad that alexia couldn't see the tears in the darkened closet. she sighed as she stood up, finally deciding to let you be. she really did need to talk to the rest of the team, and if you were going to be difficult, she wanted to be less angry when she tried talking to you again.

"do you still want to come back with me?" alexia asked you.

"i don't know, ale." alexia felt her heart sink as she walked away from you. the walk back to the locker room wasn't a very long one, but it seemed to be long enough for tears to form in the corners of her eyes. the stares from her teammates triggered something inside of herself and the moment she sat down on the bench, alexia started crying.

"you're all dismissed," alexia said without looking up. the room was tense as the team dispersed, none of them sure of what to do. mapi stared longingly at her best friend with an ache in her heart for the woman's obvious pain. she waited until everybody else was gone before she decided to talk to alexia.

"hey, stop that. don't cry, i hate it when you cry," mapi said lightheartedly. she tapped alexia with her foot, causing the captain to look up and glare at her. "what happened with (y/n)?"

"she just wanted me to leave. i didn't even do anything!" alexia's voice rose as she spoke. mapi sat down next to alexia and started to scratch lightly at her back. "why is she mad at me?"

"she's not mad at you, she's probably just scared. everybody is upset about how today's game went, and she doesn't want you to be disappointed in her. think about what happened between the game and now, and think hard, ale."

"she walked right past me on the bus," alexia said. mapi knew that it wasn't that simple. alexia easily could have moved her bag, but she had it sitting right in your seat before you got there. it was a small and seemingly insignificant detail to alexia that meant everything to you. "she went to the back of the bus."

"there was nowhere for her to sit next to you, and she thought you were upset. think about what you would have done if jenni had done that to you when you were still coming up," mapi said. it was a bit of a low blow, but also the only way that mapi knew to get her point across to alexia. mapi could tell that it worked from the way that alexia's face dropped and she shot up from the bench.

"i have to go!" alexia yelled as she ran back to where she had left you. everything was exactly how she had left it, except now you were getting up to leave. "i think that we had a misunderstanding. i'm not mad at you, not specifically. you did good today, you tried your best. i'm sorry for the bus, i was in my own head."

"alexia, you don't have to lie to make me feel better. i played like shit today," you said. alexia's face dropped as she backed you up against the door. you weren't sure what to expect, but her gently cradling your face to speak to you was not it.

"we are good, but we cannot win every game. sometimes, other teams will pull one over on us. even if i am upset, you can always come to me after. i am sorry for making you think otherwise, i truly am. i was an idiot, and i can't promise that it won't happen again, but i will always try to fix things after. forgive me, please?" alexia said. you nodded, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. "te amo, mi carina."

"i love you too, ale," you told her. alexia pulled you into a tight hug, one that hurt just a little, but you didn't mind it. "can i drive us back?"

"i'm sorry mi carina, but you are far too pretty of a-," alexia paused as she struggled to remember what lucy and some of the other girls had been teasingly calling you, "-passenger princess."

[axelakim]

Broken Pieces

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!reader (20 ish something)

Genre: angst and angst 

Warning: age gap, not proofread, use of Y/N

Summary: You got a crush on Logan while he is still overshadowed by Jean's death. The love journey between you two gets on a bumpy path.

Xavier school has been busy because of the new entrances. Young, hopeless mutant which Professor X found out through Cerebro. The teachers feel a bit overwhelmed by them. It is kinda hard to control the youngsters to face their fear. Fear of losing control. Ororo, Raven, Hank, Logan, and Professor put so much effort changing the youngsters mindset. Saturday night feels a bit lay low now, the students are partying in Xavier's backyard, including you. The only class five mutant student in the school. telekinesis, energy manipulation, and some form of neuroelectronic interfacing power

all united in the body of an 18 year old girl. 4 years ago Professor accompanied by storm came to your house offering a safe place, you'd call your second home now. What about the parents? they still visit you once in a while. At the beginning you thought they were the one who called Professor to take you out but turned out wrong. Charles who's the one tracked you. They never abandoned their little girl, the reason why your mom and dad let you go is for the reason that you will be able to accept your gifts and harness it for the better use like X-Men did. So here you are now. Being an exemplary student after 4 years of practicing in this gifted school.

Logan is one of your favorite teachers. He teaches history. You two share quite strong bonding whether in usual or defense class. Always has his eye on you, protecting you even though he knows it's just a practice. That's how you develop a crush on him since last year. After Jean's death, Logan has been a different man, he mourns for almost 6 months fully. But when he was told to teach history to fill his days by the professor he got better. That's the moment he met you.

The party is almost done, several of your friends went back to the dorm already. You and Gina and Hector are left behind. Enjoying each other's company till almost midnight. 

When you got back to your room, you saw logan and Ororo chatting in the living room. They didn't hear you coming, you were about to say hi but it stopped your intention when you heard Miss Grey's name in the conversation.

“So how you feeling logan?” ororo asked

“Great, the kids are quite a handful but i always manage it i always do”

“No, not the kids. I mean jean. Still dreamed of her?”

“O-oh yeah still the same. It's always about the wars and her, every night”

“You have to move on logan. That was not your fault. Try to make peace with it. I hate to see my friend suffer” she sighed

“It is what it is storm. At least I get occupied with the kids. Leave me struggling just at night” he answered while sipping the beer

You were still there, knowing it was wrong to eavesdrop on your teacher's conversation. That's all because of Logan, your curiosity increases when it comes to him.

“I see you close with Y/N. You two seem to share a special moment in every class you taught. Would you tell me about that?” 

“Y/N?” he chuckle, “Nah she's a sweet kid but I just care for her as a student”

“Maybe caring for someone can mean something logan. You act differently around her I can see that. Smile more often. She able to dissipate your scowl face instantly and the school is not against it let me tell you”

Little did you know,you smile hearing her chatter

“No storm, she wasn't even near to Jean” logan almost snapped and bowed his head in frustration.

You've heard it all. Heart breaks into pieces knowing he doesn't feel anything for you after all he does the whole damn year. Feeling you shouldn't be there since the beginning, you stupidly stepped back, hand hitting the vase on the table near you. The vase breaks into pieces resembling how your heart feels right now. Logan and Storm are taken aback with what happened. You ran fast but carefully to your room, hoping they would not see you in the first place. 

“What was that?” logan asked

“I don't know. No one's here. The hall is empty too” while looking around

“Maybe the pets did it” she adds

“Yeah maybe. Let's just clear this up” was the last thing you heard from your room.

Crying silently, you want to stop but you just can't. There's agony and rage inside of you.

“Why you feel hurt Y/N? Why? he's just try to be a good teacher, nothing more. Accept it, accept it you stupid pathetic girl. You're not Miss Jean Grey” talking to yourself like a lunatic. 

The crying is getting uncontrollable. You become bad at controlling your power if you were filled with so much negative energy but forcing the dark power inside to not come out is hard. You don't want to wake everyone up. So, you decide to go to the backyard in a hurry. Near the lake u keep trying to hold it all but your body can't lie. Your face is numb, can't feel anything. Body floating in the air and is circled by the red light which is your power. You were struggling, and couldn't catch a breath.

Professor woken up by the energy of yours. He awakened all the teachers and told them to go to your room but you're not there. All of them went directly to the backyard but they found nothing, you were drowning in the lake at that moment. Logan saw a vague red light from the water. He knew it was you, he jumped into the water to save you.

You are all wet and unconscious. Storm doing CPR so that the water you swallowed spat out. You woke up for a moment and saw everyone.

“Jesus kid, are you okay?” he asked, full of worry in his voice. 

“I'm s-sorry i…” said you faintly

Before you could continue you ran out of energy and blacked out. They finally bring you to the lab. Logan was the one carrying you there without you realizing it.

I will make several part of this story. I've rarely seen angst for Logan, so I try to write it myself. Let me know your thoughts about this. Hope you guys enjoy it!

[coolemmasulivan2]

Clumsy Woman

Pairing: Rúben Dias x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend doesn't like how clumsy you are, afraid you might seriously injure yourself.

Word count: 1976

Can't pretend to understand I'll be here to hold your hand I will wait for you, I will wait for you

You had been clumsy from a young age. Falling from trees, falling off bicycles, or simply tripping over your own feet seemed to be your speciality. It was during one of these graceful performances that you met your boyfriend, Ruben. You were barreling toward a magnificent face-plant when his strong arms caught you, saving you from certain embarrassment.

"I want to paint that wall!" You announced over breakfast one morning, your eyes sparkling with determination. "A deep blue, maybe."

Ruben raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and the wall. "That bookshelf has to go first." He pointed out. "It's heavy. We can do it together this weekend." He kissed your forehead and grabbed his keys. "I have to go!"

"Bye." Your attention was still on the wall and Ruben knew what you were thinking.

"Don't do it!" He called out as he reached for his bag. "Wait for me."

"But it's my day off!" You protested, already picturing the transformed wall. "I can at least start." Ruben gave you a look. "Fine." He gave you one final kiss on the lips and then left for training.

You didn't like to stay still at home. There was always a compulsion to be busy, so when boredom crept in, your eyes fell on the wall, then the bookshelf. Maybe it wasn't that difficult. With a burst of energy, you dashed out the door to buy the paint and everything you needed to paint the wall.

At home, you slip into old clothes and turn up the music. The bookshelf was packed with your books and Ruben's trophies. He'd be furious if he saw you right now, but you would prove you could handle it alone.

The bookshelf, a dark wood monster that dominated the room, had been a custom order. You started by emptying it, a task that required more muscle than expected. Then came the acrobatics. With much effort, you managed to slide a rug under one end. But as you attempted to repeat the same on the other side, disaster hit. Your hands slipped and the bookshelf came crashing down on your bare foot. A scream ripped through you as pain exploded.

"Don't do it!" Ruben's words echoed in your head. He was so going to kill you.

With a grunt of effort, you lifted the bookshelf off your foot. Pain shot through you as you collapsed to the floor, cradling your injured limb. It looked horrific, swollen and red. Trying to stand was a mistake, as a fresh wave of agony crippled you. You couldn't walk.

"Oh God, oh God!" Panic set in. Your phone was fumbled out of your pocket. You needed help, and you needed it now. Ruben wouldn't be home for hours. Calling an ambulance was the only option.

Ruben stepped into the locker room, and he heard the insistent vibration of his phone. "That thing hasn't stopped ringing." Bernardo commented, a grin spreading across his face.

Ruben's brow furrowed as he glanced at the caller ID. It was Lily, your best friend. "Hey, Lily, everything okay?"

"Hi Ruben, sorry to bother you, but I was supposed to meet Y/N at your place, and she’s not there and a neighbour mentioned seeing an ambulance at your building." His blood ran cold. "Do you know what happened?"

"I can't believe her!" His voice rose in frustration. "She wanted to paint the wall, the one with the bookshelf. I told her not to touch it!" A wave of dread washed over him.

"She probably didn't listen. Oh God." Lily knew you better than anyone. Your stubborn independence was legendary. "I've tried calling her, but no answer."

"Let me take a shower really quick and then I'll call you back."

Bernardo and Walker exchanged concerned glances. "What's going on, man? Your girl in trouble again?" Walker asked, his tone laced with disbelief.

"Looks like it!" Ruben replied, his voice rough. "She can't stay out of trouble for five minutes. Fuck." He desperately searched for the contact of his friend Eric who worked at the hospital. He answered on the fourth ring.

"Hey, mate, what's up?"

"Eric, man, sorry to bother you, I know you're working, but I need a huge favour." Ruben rushed out, his voice was laced with urgency.

"Shoot!" Eric replied, his tone professional.

"Can you check if Y/N was admitted to the hospital? I think she might have had an accident. Again." He quickly explained the situation, his voice rising with each word. Eric promised to check and call back in a few minutes.

"I'm gonna be quick in the shower." Ruben said, turning to his friends. "If Eric calls, can you answer? Please." Walker and Bernardo nodded.

He'd never showered so fast in his life. Emerging a few minutes later, Bernardo was already on the phone.

"I'll tell him, thanks, Eric," Bernardo said, hanging up.

Ruben's heart pounded in his chest. "So?"

"She's there. Broken foot, but she's okay." Bernardo reported.

"For fuck's sake."

You rolled your eyes as Ruben burst into the hospital room. His face was a mask of irritation. Lily, who'd arrived earlier, squeezed your hand in silent support before stepping back.

"Seriously, Y/n?" Ruben’s voice was dripping with disbelief. "I told you to stay put."

"I'm fine, thanks for the concern." You replied, your tone dripping with sarcasm. You loved him and knew he was worried, but sometimes it felt suffocating.

"A broken foot means you’re not." He disagreed. "Can’t you just stay still for one day?"

You didn’t want to argue, especially as he seemed to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed. "I’m a grown woman, Ruben. I don’t need you to tell me to sit still."

"Well, you don’t act like one. Sometimes I feel like I’m dating a child." His response was harsh and unexpected.

Shock washed over you. Had he really just said that?

"Maybe you should break up with this child then. I wouldn’t want to keep the great Ruben Dias from the real women in the city." You retorted, your voice trembling with anger.

He ran his hand through his hair, frustration etched on his face. He knew his words had been cruel, but his worry often manifested in this way. But breaking up with you was the last thing he wanted.

"You know that’s not what I meant-- what are you doing?" He began, but you cut him off as you tried to stand, to reach for the crutches. He pushed you back down, but you quickly pushed his hand away.

"Lily, can you take me home, please?" You asked, ignoring Ruben completely.

Lily, who had been a silent observer, helped you up.

"I can take you home!" Ruben offered.

"I don’t want you to take me home." You replied coldly. "You don’t have a car seat for a child, remember?"

Using crutches was something familiar. This wasn’t your first rodeo. You had broken other body parts before.

In the car, Lily broke the tense silence. "You know he’s just worried about you."

"I know, but that doesn’t give him the right to treat me like a child. "He has known since the beginning how clumsy I am. If he can’t handle it, maybe we shouldn't be together."

"Don’t say that!" Lily replied, her voice firm. "You two can't live without the other." Through the rearview mirror, you saw Ruben’s car following you. "I know it’s hard, but try to understand his point of view."

You looked away, trying to focus on anything but the conversation. You knew Lily was right. Ruben loved you, and his overprotectiveness came from that love. But it was hard to accept when it felt like he was suffocating you.

As the car pulled up to your apartment building, you felt a pang of sadness hit you. Lily opened your door, and carefully you stepped out. "Thanks for everything, Lily. I really appreciate it."

She smiled. "Anytime, Babe! Call me if you need anything, okay?"

You nodded and the the help of the clutches you walked towards the building entrance. As you turned around, you saw Ruben's car waiting for the garage door of the building to open up. You hesitated, looking at his car for a long moment before turning and going inside.

When you entered the house, you realised that your books were scattered like confetti, Ruben's trophies were still on the dining table, and the monstrous bookshelf stood there, a mocking presence in the room. It was impossible to clean it up. Not with your foot like that.

A few minutes later, Ruben entered the house and he looked around it. You were nowhere to be seen, but by the sound of the water running, he knew you were taking a shower. Without his help.

What if you fell? He shocked the thought out of his head. You needed space and he was going to give it to you. Kind of.

Jumping from the shower with only one foot and the other in the air, you dried yourself and put on your pyjamas. You felt like everything was hurting, but you had to prove a point to Ruben. You could do things alone without needing his help.

As you opened the bedroom door, the smell of the food hit you and your belly made a noise, not realising how starving you were. However what surprised you the most was not Ruben cooking but the fact the bookshelf was no longer on the wall that you wanted to paint, but the wall in front of it, with all his trophies and your books. Everything was really clean and the small lamp you had on the corner where you sat reading was welcoming.

The table was set, and Ruben was busy tossing salad at the kitchen island. When he saw you emerge from the bedroom, he paused, his expression softening.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was gentle, laced with concern.

You met his gaze with a cold stare. "Fine."

You grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, walking around the kitchen with surprising ease on your crutches. Ruben watched your movements with a mixture of relief and worry.

He sighed, setting down the salad bowl. "Can we talk?"

You scoffed. "Are you sure you want to do that? You think talking to a child is easy?" Your voice was sharp, but a pang of hurt shot through you as the words left your lips.

Ruben rinsed his hands and pulled out two chairs. Gently, he guided you to one and sat down across from you. His hands rested lightly on your bare legs. "I'm so sorry for calling you a child. I didn't mean it like that, and you know it."

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "It still hurt." You mumbled.

"I know, I know. I've been overprotective." He admitted. "But every time you get hurt, it feels like my heart stops. I worry about you constantly. But calling you a child was wrong, and I'm truly sorry."

Your anger was slowly dissipating. You couldn't stay mad at him for long. He always knew how to break through your walls. "You're an idiot if you think this is the last time I'll hurt myself." You retorted, trying to sound tough.

He chuckled softly. "Let me be an idiot, then. I love you, you know that, right?"

Ruben's eyes held yours. Slowly, he leaned forward, his hand reaching out to gently cup your face. Your heart pounded in your chest as his gaze lowered to your lips.

With a hesitant touch, his lips met yours. It was a soft and passionate kiss. As the kiss deepened, you felt a surge of relief and happiness wash over you. In that moment, nothing else mattered.

A small smile crept onto your face. "I know. I love you too."

[kryannoy]

Hey, can we have a Yan!Andrew Graves with Reader?

genre: sfw, headcanons + fic

characters: yandere!andrew graves x reader

warnings: manipulation, gaslighting, obsession, possessive andrew

a/n: i don't normally write yandere characters so this was a bit of a challenge. hope this suits your request and enjoyed reading!

He's so obsessed with you but he's subtle with it—more like whatever stupid thing he does, he'll make sure you don't see it.

When he loves you, he'll make sure to keep you happy just so you will always come to him whenever something happens. He'll open a bottle cap for you without being told, he'll wipe your mouth with his fingers if it's messy—totally not putting them in his mouth afterwards. He'll open the door for you, let you cry on his shoulder, gives you hugs when you need it. Every subtle thing to manipulate you into coming back to him when you need support.

If someone talks to you, he'll be right behind you with arms wrapped around your waist while glaring daggers at the other person.

"No, no. Continue. Don't mind me, pretend that I don't exist."

To you, his tone sounds normal but to the poor guy, it's like a cleaver skinning them alive.

If someone even looks at you without you knowing, it's gonna be hell for them. He somehow won't be afraid to kidnap that person, tie them up and threaten them with Andrew's favorite cleaver until the person is diagnosed with PTSD.

He will shamelessly go back to you with a smile on his handsome face as if nothing happened.

Andrew would kill anyone for you but if you tell him not to, he won't.

Although, he knows you would be scared if you saw him murdering people, he won't do it anyways. The last thing he wants is you running away from him.

You have no idea why people start to turn their backs on you and you would think that you've done something wrong. So, you ask Andrew for advice or if he knows anything, exactly what he planned for.

And he would smile innocently from his success and spread out his arms. You would dive into his comfy sweater without knowing the hands that are holding you are the hands that have done so many questionable and criminal acts.

"C'mere you. Aw, you poor thing! I'm sure no one hates you. Who would? They're probably out of social energy from a rough day or something. Don't you worry!"

He'll kiss your forehead, then your nose, and lastly, your lips. You would smile and he would smile into the kiss while thinking how naive you are.

He admits sometimes that he feels guilty for deceiving you but what can he do? How could he come up to you and admit to all the crimes he's done? You wouldn't look at him the same anymore, would you? Would you still love him despite knowing what he did or what he ate? He wouldn't take any risks. If he has the person he loves the most in his arms, why would he easily throw you away?

If the truth hasn't been told, he'll keep you for himself. He'll keep you forever.

You knew he acted differently than normal people. He's a little different because of his upbringing, and that's normal for kids with neglected parents growing up with a weird habit of theirs and that was just his charm, right?

Because you think it was just a charm of his, you didn't run when you had the chance to. Besides, if he was so sweet to you, so kind to you, so good to you, he wouldn't hurt you, would he?

There's a reunion dinner later tonight with your old high school mates and of course you're coming. You haven't seen your friends in a long time. You've already informed Andrew of this and for the past week he was okay with it, but why is his tone now sounded . . . different?

"You're going?" He asked from the couch. One of his legs propped up on the other and an arm over the couch. His green eyes look up and down at your fit that he knows you chose the best from your closet. You're going to meet some nobodies with that outfit? You didn't even wear something so pretty when he's around! Not that you aren't pretty. It's just you put a tiny bit less effort when going out or being with Andrew.

"I've already told you, haven't I?" You're putting on your shoes at the front door and you hear some shuffling. Your hand is at the doorknob now. "I'll be back before ten. I prom—"

The door slams shut again before you could even open a crack. You can feel him behind you. His hands on the door, caging you between him and the solid wood.

"You are not going." His voice is low, almost threatening.

You turn around to face. You do not want to have this conversation right now. You're going to be late, that is if you find a way to stir this around to go your way.

"Andrew, this is unfair. Last week, you told me I can go so why are you backing out now? Tonight of all days!"

It wasn't his intention to upset you nor ruin your night but why are they taking you away from him?

"Why are you still excited about going? Don't you remember what they've done to you? They isolated you . . . remember?"

They isolated you. Yeah, right. He was the reason behind it anyways, but poor you who loves him too never suspected your own boyfriend was the culprit.

"They . . . didn't. You said they didn't have the energy to talk," your voice was almost a whisper. You weren't even confident of your own answer. You're starting to reminisce about the old days at school. Sure, they didn't talk to you anymore, but the reunion dinner is going to be different, right?

His hand moves down to lock the door but his actions made you take a step back, hitting the door. You forgot you're kind of trapped right now with no way out unless reasoning with him first.

"You don't really have to go . . ." The same hand moves up to your hair, tucking some strands behind your ear ever so gently it's almost . . . unnervingly creepy. "Do you?"

His eyebrow raised in question.

Your heart is starting to pick up its pace. Your fingertips are running cold. You don't understand yourself why you're so nervous in front of him. I mean, you had been nervous around him but this is a different kind of nervous. It's fear. Fear of him. However, he never hurt you yet. He never raised his voice to you. He's always been nice and sweet to you. But you really can't help this weird feeling.

So you slowly tell him how you feel.

"You're scaring me."

And there it is. It hit something in him. It's the last thing he wants, but the first thing to make you listen to him.

You can see his facial expression changes from demanding to guilt.

"Love, there's nothing to be afraid of. It's just me!" His caging arms now freeing you while backing away a bit, most likely a tactic to show you he's innocent. "I'm just saying, wouldn't you be left out at dinner? I don't want my pretty girl coming home sad and disappointed when the past week you've been so excited about this dinner."

Andrew takes your silence to continue. "Stay here. With me."

You really want to insist on going yet you don't want to risk starting a fight. But it's unfair! You always let him win you over, now he needs to listen and let you go. Maybe a small chance could probably lead to a huge success.

"But please!" You drag the word longer, hoping he'll give in. "I haven't seen my friends for I don't how many years. It's just this once."

You seem energetic again. He takes this chance to step closer, a hand on the side of your face. His thumb brushes along your glossed lips you put on earlier, smudging it. His gaze move up from your lips to your eyes.

"I'm sorry, darling, but no means no." He said it so softly before he kissed you longingly. You somehow melt into him despite your disagreement. He's really not losing—like always.

He broke off the kiss to continue persuading you to stay. "I'm doing this for your own good. Sometimes you're too naive to be staying around them. You're too nice. I've seen it. And it hurts to watch you being used and throw you away."

You exhale a deep breath from the stress. Maybe Andrew's right. Maybe you are too naive to realize. They asked you for homework and notes, but then one day, they stopped talking to you. Maybe they really did see no use in you they've fulfilled their satisfaction.

But Andrew . . . Andrew never stopped talking to you. Andrew never threw you away. Andrew was always there through it all. Andrew never left you by yourself.

Like right now.

"Okay," you spoke softly, like a whisper, before nodding your head. "I'll stay in with you."

Good thing you were looking at the ground because now, Andrew can't hide the big smile on his face. He successfully manages to keep you by his side. His heart beats rapidly from the excitement, his skin was buzzing. He can be with you tonight. He can stay with you. Just the two of you!

He pulls you in his arms and strokes your hair. "That's my good girl. Always so obedient." He kisses the crown of your head before leading you to your bedroom so you can change to a more comfortable clothes.

He dreams of having you by his side forever but he doesn't want to go to extreme measures such as locking you in or tying you up. Maybe not just yet. Since you're so good to him and love him too, you deserve to roam around freely until you start to disobey.

He wouldn't want to do it but tonight, he was close to doing so just from how persistent you were.

[just-jordie-things]

I’m in love with the idea of yuuta being with a reader that has healing abilities

Imagine him coming back from missions with such MINOR injuries and having to go to shoko’s clinic for it, and always asking for you to be the one to look after him 😂

“Yuuta I don’t think you need to have this checked… and don’t you know how to use reversed curse energy too?”

“….no”

Or one time he shows up without any injuries so he has to fake a migraine or something lmaooo that simp would use any chance he could get just to see you

obsessed. lovesick yuuta is so stupid and i love him sm for it <3

yuuta only ever saw shoko in passing, and always away from the infirmary. he admired shoko well enough, and the feeling was mutual (or as mutual as shoko was capable of feeling) but he simply never had a need to visit her for her abilities. having mastered rct not long into his first year as a student yuuta was capable of taking care of his own injuries.

but after a few years, shoko began to notice an uptick in the younger sorcerer's presence in her infirmary. and it was no secret what it was that brought him around.

"okkotsu, back again so soon?" your voice is a sweet coo- it always is when he comes staggering in to present you with yet another injury. you tilt your head and pout t him with worry. meanwhile shoko has to excuse herself for a smoke so she won't vomit from the sickening sweetness.

yuuta never questions shoko's disappearance when he comes around. he's too grateful to have you all to himself.

he's cradling his broken wrist poorly, letting his hand flop outwards at an angle it wasn't meant to be bent. its gruesome, the bone showing and blood staining his white jacket. but the difficult part isn't managing the pain. the difficult part is holding back the natural instinct to fix it himself.

"this looks nasty," you tut, replacing his hand holding the ugly injury with both of your own. you barely examine it for a minute before you're using own technique, and like magic his wrist repaired and his hand is facing the right direction again. "there we go" you give the fix a smile, squeezing his wrist first and then reaching for his hand and prodding your fingers around that too. you tell yourself you're only double checking to be sure everything healed properly.

it takes all of yuuta's efforts not to snatch your hand in his own and hold on tight. he can feel every muscle in his body relaxing as he gazes at you.

"thanks, doc" he says, and just like the last hundred or maybe thousand times he's said it, you smile just a little bit.

"anytime, okkotsu," you tell him, and you mean it, but something about this visit has you questioning him for once. your fingers finally still on his hand, a few wrapped around his own fingers, others pressed into his palm. your pinky stretches out to the inside of his healed yet bloody wrist, hovering against his pulse point. "but... it must be tiring, coming 'round here to get fixed up..." you trail off, catching his eyes even though he was clearly trying to avoid yours. "...when you could just heal yourself"

yuuta's face begins to flush with color and you can't help but squeeze his hand with your delight. did you think he was an idiot for pulling this stunt over and over again for the last few months? maybe... but were you the idiot that watched him waltz in here with every excuse under the sun- from his organs nearly spilling out to a minor headache- who was more than happy to sit and heal him anyways? perhaps...

"...suppose it can be"

yuuta's answer comes closely, and without much explanation to you at all. you only smile at him, dropping one of your hands from his so that when you leaned in closer to him, you could swipe his messy bangs away from his eyes.

"if i didn't know any better, i'd think you were looking for an excuse to come see me" your voice is a whisper, and also the sweetest thing yuuta's ever heard in his life.

"maybe every once in a while..." he admits, and in his mind, your giggle outranks your whispered voice.

"so you think using up all my band-aids for your nicks and paper cuts was necessary?" you tease, tilting your head at him ever so slightly.

"i mean... i'd say mission accomplished" he replies with a grin that could only be described as shit eating.

you roll your eyes at him, but your own smile is nothing short of fond.

"okkotsu yuuta, the next time i see you in here, it better be because you're coming to ask me out properly, and not while you're bleeding all over my floor"

his grin softens as he melts before you.

"noted"

[kimaswork]

A challenge. That was your solution. So many men in Sumeru wanted you for your beauty, so what was a young witch like yourself to do? Thats when you saw a stray cat in the distance and an idea hit you.

Putting up a notice on the commission board, you wrote that whoever could get a bell from a stray black cat, would be given the chance to date you. A simple challenge right? No.

For there was a catch- you were the cat.

Being a witch, a chaos witch in particular, you weren’t restrained to any rules in the magic world. Other witches like Mona, are bound to astral magic. But you could use any kind you wished with bor limits. Chaos was yours to wield and that involved having all the magic arts at your disposal.

There were many attempts made as men dashed, leaped, and chased after you. Some even resorted to traps, of which you were displeased with as you occasionally tripped just for the fun of it. You snickered as you watched the men exasperatedly groan as their traps were found empty or torn to shreds.

In full honesty this was more for your entertainment, but having the males leave you alone was a major bonus.

One day you saw a tall male with large fennec fox like ears wander into town. He gathered supplies and stopped by the board, most likely because your commission was the talk of the town. His ears perked as he saw your picture on the commission,Like all the others, your beauty captivated him, and that was when he decided to take part.

A few weeks went by as you tricked the men of the city. But only one caught your eye. The green stripes in his hair mesmerized you, seemingly glowing in the darker areas of the underground market.

You saw him disabling traps that once were laid out for you. Seeing him do this made your heart melt. He seemed to really care for the condition the cat, well, you. He was rather kind, kind enough that he tried to feed you at times. Unlike the other men around, Tighnari, as you had learned was his name, was a sweet soul. As you observed him work and continue with his duties when he wasn't gaining your trust. You found he was both a forest ranger and a healer of sorts.

His smile was like a sweet treat. His voice smooth and calming to your ears. You knew he was the one when he kneeled down before you and gently pet you, not even going for the bell that laid on the collar.

You leaned into his hand, enjoying the attention of the sweet man. It was at this moment that you had made up your mind, you'd choose him.

The only problem? You only had to get him to take the bell. The challenge you once set for the men was now a challenge for you. He didn't even seem interested in the bell, only you.

Time and time again he seemingly didn't notice the bell. No matter how many times he stroked your soft fur, gentle fingers grazing the collar, he neve took the bell.

Growing mildly impatient you sook him out each time he returned to the city. As he was in the markets, you found him and sat beside him. Only moving to follow him around the area. You nipped your sharp teeth at his puffy pants to get his attention.

Your efforts only brought a smile to his face every time he gazed down at you.

;&───⇌• :🌷: •⇋───&;

After nearly a month of trying to get him to take the bell you grew impatient. Deciding he was the one and you were going to have him.

In your natural form you decided to approach him whilst he was in the city collecting supplies. If he wouldn't take the bell then you would just take him, simple as that.

But before you could even get in a word he turned from his trade and saw you. "Why hello there, you must be ____." His cheery tone took you by surprise. It was still so early, yet he seemed to have all the energy in the world.

"Yes, that's me. And you are Tighnari, correct?" You asked, if only to keep up a more formal appearance rather than admitting you had essentially stalked him while in cat form.

"Correct. Can I help you?" He asked, his sweet smile curling his lips. "Ah, yes." You replied, clearing your throat as you put your mind back on track. "I was um..."

God, how were you supposed to ask him out? Technically this was your first time meeting. Speaking with him only now seemed difficult.

His head tilted and his large ears flopped to the side as he looked to you expectantly. You cleared your throat once more. "Ahem, I was wondering if you would perchance go on a date with me?"

Your hands clasped behind your back as you looked to your feet bashfully. Hearing a snicker you looked up to him.

"I was wondering how long it would take for you to ask!" He chuckled, leaving you confused. Was he so confident in himself that he knew you would want him? Or was there something he knew and you didn't? Before you could say anything more than a soft "How?" He began to explain.

"Your scent, I knew you were that cat. Despite the form you take your scent remains the same." He states matter-of-factly. "O-oh..." You mumbled thinking you should have seen that coming.

"So is that a no?" You inquired sadly, feeling your hopes begin to fall. "Of course not! I would love to go on a date with you." He chirped. Heart soaring you looked up to him. "Really?!"

He responded with a nod before setting his hand on your head, giving it a gentle ruffle. "Of course, I'd love to." You grinned from ear to ear as he spoke his next words. "I'll pick you up tonight around 7, sound good?" Words falling short, you nodded happily.

"Alright then, I'll finish up here and see you tonight." He said as he waved you goodbye. You returned the gesture as you waved him off and returned to your home, preparing your best outfit for the night.

;&───⇌• :🌷: •⇋───&;

That's all for today, wrote this while in the psychward lmao.

Send in a request if you have any ideas for me to write!

Have a lovely day babes ❤️

[lacollectionneuse1967]

slip of the tongue part 4 - the last train home

Theseus Scamander x Reader

summary: you are kidnapped by grindelwald and theseus is stranded alone, unaware, at a train station--he's left to believe that you do not love him and you are left in enemy custody with no one coming to save you. the world always had a way of finding out what you loved and taking it from you. but you always found a way to hold onto hope until your hands were bloody, and you always hoped you'd still make the last train home...

fem!reader. theseus scamander x reader.

category: hurt-comfort. romance.

warnings: none

part one / part two / part three / part four

author's note: yeah i wrote another long chapter again sorryyyyy! also there are no sexy times in this one haha.. this is actually the last part of this fic! taking requests for other theseus fics after. hope you enjoy :)

November, King's Cross Station

"Don't come. Don't come," Theseus thinks. "Be safe and happy and do not come."

And then, with a selfish tug of panic, he relinquishes the hideous truth of his desire:

"Come. Please come."

Theseus is standing at Platform 9 3/4, craning his neck over the crowds of wizards in their mismatched regalia, some in whimsical velvet robes and long caps and others in London business suits. The existence of the magical world alongside this one always did seem to him an impractical, impossible thing. Clunky and disjointed parts clacking together.

Until, until...

You. Muggle girl, born and bred, but you were the best wizard he'd ever met. The whole world seemed to make sense, suddenly, with your introduction into his life, these two worlds, magical and unmagical, were contained within your very existence, perfectly.

For the first time in his life, the thought of you brings him pain.

"She'll come," he thinks again. Banish the pain. Banish all that isn't useful or good.

The train whistle blows, his wristwatch reads 7:14. There's hardly anyone on the platform anymore.

He knew, knew that you wanted him too. Loved him. He saw it in your beautiful, hopeful face every time he reached out and touched you, you were so willing to fall into his touch, to surrender yourself. Sweet angel in his bed, in his arms.

"Last call!" A train attendant leans out from the car up ahead to shout it. Misery snakes around his heart. It's an icy and menacing revelation, that you might not choose to be with him.

He has never asked much of you, was always afraid to as your boss and your friend. But in these last days he's realized he's underestimated you, critically. He was so afraid of scaring you off he hadn't recognized that you don't scare easy.

He glances at the train attendant's cinched expression and then around the platform again, with blind urgency, eyes darting to every face, hardly seeing the strangers at all.

"I didn't push her too far this time. She'll come. She'll come."

"Last call!" The train attendant calls again, irritably. She's doing him a favor by waiting at all.

When Theseus steps up into the train car he politely apologizes to her. He even smiles charitably. She returns it with a blush, but rolls her eyes, taking his ticket.

He settles down and pulls out his book to read. Orders a coffee. Nothing is out of the ordinary.

Theseus has always been a sensible man, a capable one. He'll tell Newt you didn't want him. He'll put his energy and efforts into the resistance against Grindelwald. He looks fine, and maybe one day he will be.

He knows, logically, that you will be too. But he cannot deny that part of him was left on that platform tonight, and he cannot deny that it might remain there for good.

----

January 

The woman lingers in the shop, her gaze flitting from shelf to shelf without much intention.

Theseus knows that he's ceased to be a novelty. Small as Hogsmeade was, he's been living there for a little over two months. The village's residents no longer looked to him or Newt, or Newt's "friends," with any curiosity or suspicion. If the woman is loitering around, it's because she wants to speak to him.

"Mrs. Beaumont," he inquires, trying to be as patient as he can, wiping his hands off on a rag before placing them flat on the counter. "Can I help you with something?"

"Oh!" She seems relieved he's broached conversation, walking eagerly to the front counter that he's behind. "Mr. Scamander, I just wanted to say how very happy we are to have you and your brother here. Apart from the students, it always gives me hope, seeing young people and newcomers moving here."

He nods warmly, offers a closed-lip smile, but says nothing. He knows Mrs. Beaumont is one for long, chatty, pointless conversation. If he struck one up he'd never hear the end of it.

Theseus wants to close up for the evening. He wants to return to his living quarters at the inn. The potion shop was supposed to have closed ten minutes ago.

From Head Auror to humble assistant shopkeeper. If he thinks about that disparity too much he starts to go insane. Veritably insane. But he tries to rid himself of useless pride, something he'd been so occupied with before. Tries to remember what he's doing here, what's at stake. The position at the potion shop was just a cover. The evenings and long nights--that's when he, Dumbledore, and Newt did their real work.

Mrs. Beaumont shuffles out of the shop, made shy by her confession.

It's unseasonably warm for mid-January, the snow patchy, in wet-looking, thin sheets of ice spread over yellowing grass. Most days the sky is mercifully blue, bright and pale. But the sun still sets early, and it's a purple evening by the time Theseus locks up.

"Dammit," he curses softly. The key gets jammed in the lock sometimes. He's sure there's some way this could be made more efficient through magic.

The potion shop where he works is at the very edge of the village. The back window overlooks a white, roaring river that crumbles rockily down the hillside towards the Black Lake. Theseus starts his walk back towards the inn, back into town, unseeingly.

He knows the way so well by now that sometimes he just winds up in his room, with no memory of the walk at all.

Theseus looks forward to meeting up with his younger brother tonight.

Their relationship has improved, considerably, within the last two months. At nights when they have no other work to do and no Grindelwald-related assignments from Dumbledore, Theseus helps Newt on his book about magical beasts. Newt's notes were these soul-crushingly disorganized collections of writings and sketches, his findings all haphazardly piled together in a barely-bound journal. Theseus had been helping him turn his work into a more readable format, maybe something that could one day be published. Theseus had forgotten how much he enjoyed working with magical creatures in school, had forgotten that he was quite good at it too.

A loose paper currently adhering itself to his boot breaks him out of his reverie. It crunches when he tries to walk. He stops to kick it off, unsuccessfully. It looks quite old, half-torn and filthily brown, and a bit frozen as well. He leans down to pick it from his shoe with a grimace, lifting it up in curiosity.

WANTED.

The image of your face on the paper is enough to make him stop walking completely, stop breathing. At first he thinks he's hallucinating, he'd always known you'd come back to haunt him.

He's in an alleyway, one he doesn't take often, he doesn't know what compelled him to take this route today. He looks up in horror at the grey brick walls. They're plastered with the same, tattered poster of you, the one calling for your arrest, who knows how long they've been up.

WANTED: Have You Seen This Witch? Y/N Y/L/N.

Contact the Ministry of Magic immediately if you have any information concerning her whereabouts.

The posted reward money makes his stomach turn. But the sight of your face, that does something far worse to him.

The photo they used of you is from your first day at the Ministry. A cropped and zoomed-in image of you smiling, with eye-welling pride, in front of the huge wooden door to the Auror Office. In the image you move after smiling for the picture, you look around with an anxious, unsure sort of happiness. He draws his thumb over the dirty paper, the picture of your face.

This isn't possible. This can't be real.

He runs to the inn. His lungs are burning from the cold, dry air, but he doesn't stop. He pushes through the doors and Aberforth stands up from one of the tables by the bar, startled.

"What do you think you're-"

Theseus ignores him, breaking into the back room and falling to his knees before the fireplace. Wand shaking in his hand, he places a Floo Call to Thatcher Birchen. He's an Auror. More importantly, he was Theseus's friend from his Hufflepuff days. He wouldn't betray Theseus, not willingly.

When Thatcher's face materializes in the coals of the fireplace it looks unhappy to see him.

"Theseus, you shouldn't be calling me here. You didn't leave us on the best terms-"

"I know, I'm sorry. I wouldn't reach out if it wasn't an emergency."

"I'm not keen to talk to you regardless," Thatcher snaps. But he doesn't end the Floo Call.

Theseus realizes with a pang that Thatcher is scared. But Theseus doesn't understand why. He's diligently avoided all news press and talk about the Ministry these last two months, hoping to avoid you. No Ministry talk, no new editions of The Daily Prophet, just work with his hands. Moving a rag over the wooden counters at the potion shop, running the numbers and taking up accounting. Restocking boxes of ingredients.

This seems to him, now, to have been a great and careless mistake.

He thought you'd be running the Auror Office now, taking names, that Newt could reach out to you at a crucial, appropriate time.

"Did..." He has to ready himself to say your name aloud. "Thatcher, did something happen to Y/N? I saw a flyer today that said she's missing, that she is wanted under suspicion of espionage. Did something happen while she was working as an Auror?"

Theseus doesn't want to reveal too much. He's worried bringing you to the gala in Berlin and the Mausoleum in France that weekend in November might have already incriminated you.

"Theseus," Thatcher explains in a hushed tone. "Y/N Y/L/N never filled the post at all. I-I heard something about a potential offer the day you quit, but she disappeared that very night."

Theseus can hardly hear the rest of what Thatcher is saying, his whole body has gone numb.

"No one saw her in the weeks after her disappearance. It was assumed she'd taken up with Grindelwald. It had already been proven that she'd stolen some important documents from the Ministry Archives-"

"How?" Theseus's voice breaks on the word, miserably.

Thatcher sighs sympathetically.

"They found her wand and analyzed it. Found a spell that made copies of documents associated with the Ministry Archives. Hence the assumption, hence the wanted posters they put up a while ago..."

Theseus knows this could never be true. You and Grindelwald.

"What do you mean by 'found her wand''?" He asks with sudden, horrific clarity. You've been missing this whole time. Without a wand.

"That same night you resigned. They found it in front of Kings Cross Station."

The air is sapped from the room, Theseus unthinkingly flings some fresh coals onto the Floo Call with a limp palm, it collapses the shape of Thatcher's face and the call crumbles into nothing. He didn't say goodbye, he has to get some air.

He's so taken aback, reeling with nausea, that he has to brace himself against the wall with both hands. He keels over and dry heaves for a few seconds.

Two months you'd been missing.

And they'd found your wand at the station. You'd been coming, coming for him. This whole time he'd thought...

Newt bursts into the room, Aberforth is standing behind him looking uncertain, alert.

"Theseus! Aberforth told me--But... What's going on?!"

Theseus stands and closes the door so it's just the two of them. He's wearing the apathetic, half-conscious expression of a sleepwalker.

Newt takes a seat in the wooden chair.

"Newt... Grindelwald has her. He's had her this whole time. Since the day I quit the Ministry."

"I..." Newt's reaction doesn't satisfy Theseus. He looks troubled, but only vaguely.

"Newt," Theseus starts again with newfound frustration, passion. "While we were laying low, writing your book, restocking shelves, while we were brought up to the castle at Christmastime, Y/N has been in his custody! Tortured, starving, alone, I don't know. When I think about it, it kills me. I can't handle it-"

"We don't know if she's even alive, Theseus," Newt says this rationally, albeit unhappily. "Grindelwald doesn't keep prisoners unless they are valuable, important. She might be dead. When I heard she wasn't promoted to an Auror in November-"

"November?"

Cold rushes into Theseus's veins. There is no silence as deadly as the one that follows. He can feel his blood crystallize and crack, it’s too bodily a sensation to even call it shock. It’s betrayal. 

“You knew?” 

All those months collapse into nothing, they mean nothing to him.

For so long Newt kept his distance, felt misunderstood by Theseus and their mother for the path he chose in life. And yes, perhaps Theseus did misunderstand, did judge him for it, never took his career or his interest in magical beasts seriously. Maybe he was berating at times, suffocating with his good, brotherly intentions, and they’d drifted apart as adults. 

But these last eight weeks in Hogsmeade they’d mended that, delicately, bruisingly, as one mends small bones, with small intrusions and concessions. Quiet conversations, sessions where Theseus helped him turn his work into something resembling a book, living together for the first time since they were children. 

But that means nothing to Theseus now, nothing. 

Newt doesn’t meet his eyes, the shame too heavy to lift his head. He’s sitting, hunched over in his chair like it is mounted to the floor.

“No,” Newt breathes out. “No, Theseus. I knew she never became Head Auror. I knew it went to… to someone else, but I didn’t know she was missing.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?" His voice is torn-sounding. More hurt than enraged. "You didn’t even suspect—you didn’t reach out once?! I don’t believe you.”

“I swear it to you—“

“You should’ve told me.”

“You told me she didn’t love you!” Newt looks up at last, eyes wild with the panic of a cornered animal. “That she didn’t choose you! I-I don’t know what we could’ve done for her even if we did know…” 

That there is a new wound, it blackens Theseus’s heart to hear it.

“I know Dumbledore knows where Grindelwald is. Christ, it was Y/N who stole those documents from the Ministry archives, those maps! We can go to her."

Newt just keeps shaking his head at the floor. It makes Theseus want to go up to him and shake him.

"If it were me, Newt, you would’ve come for me….”

“That’s different. We don’t do these sort of rescue missions, they’re too dangerous. Grindelwald, he—he’s untouchable.” 

“You make me ashamed. You have always, always been braver than me. I didn’t realize it before, when we were kids, but you have. You were never a coward, Newt. Don’t let this fight change you.”

“Theseus, if we try to rescue her we will lose everything. I cannot risk this, cannot risk them.”

No one else is in the room but Theseus knows who he means. Jacob. Tina. And the other ragtag insurgents who have found their way into Newt’s crew over the last two months, who have decided to set aside their lives to fight.

Newt is staring at him pleadingly. Theseus feels he doesn’t recognize him anymore, feels as if he is standing in the room all alone. The space between them stretches and stretches until Theseus speaks again.

“No,” Theseus’s throat is dry, his voice subdued. He shakes his head. “No, I wouldn’t ask you to… I’ll go alone.”

“Theseus, please don’t—“

He turns and leaves, cutting the conversation short.

This has never been negotiable. He let you slip away from him once, asked you to, encouraged you to in his last letter.

He would not let you be lost again.

——— 

You almost miss being tortured. Well, no, that isn't true.

But anything seems preferable to this ever-expanding, engulfing nothingness. After that first week of torture and questioning in which you revealed nothing they wanted to hear (thankful that Newt had kept you in the dark), none of Grindelwald's followers entered your cell. They don't even feed you often enough to keep you alive, but it seems more like carelessness, derision for your muggleborn blood status, than like they are trying to kill you.

If it weren't for Queenie you would've starved to death.

The first time Queenie slipped into your cell to sneak you some bread you tried to kill her. Her reading your thoughts and reciting them aloud, frantically, as if they would save her or prove her allyship, actually did save her. She stunned you into a dumbfounded stupor. You'd never met someone with her abilities before.

She was a funny woman. A devoted follower of Grindelwald who revealed little and had an oversensitive disposition, but you soon grew to appreciate her clandestine visits. She was kind. Remarkably so. Not only for feeding you, but for sitting and talking to you at all. That was its own kindness.

You thought you knew loneliness before, but this...

You knew your mind was a hostile place, even before you were brought here. But being left alone with yourself was the worst torture Grindelwald could've thought up.

You distract yourself with your less injurious thoughts, and avoid thoughts of Theseus at all costs.

Those are so painful you dare not think his name. In your mind, a blotted, blacked-out figure remains in his stead, a hole you've torn out yourself. In those first days, you'd repeated his name out loud, like a mantra, and thought of him liberally and without pause, even while you were being tortured.

"Theseus. Theseus. Theseus. Come save me. Please, come find me."

What waste. No one was coming. All you had ahead of you was this nothingness.

Sometimes, lights move outside the slit in your wall--too pathetic of an opening to be called a window. You can’t even see out of it, it just lets in cold air. Those shadows and flashes of light are the only color in your world. Sometimes when you look down at yourself, even your hands look black and white, made sepia and sickly gray.  

The lights are sometimes orange, swooping lights, like arcs of fire being dropped overhead. Sometimes green, watery, glowing darkly like moonstone or bioluminescence. What you see aren't the spells themselves, but just the brilliance they cast into your room from the courtyard.

You don't know what Grindelwald is doing, what sort of spells are producing these bursting, sporadic hues.

You lie sideways on the floor and stare at them playing out against your wall, soft glowing spots sinking and rising.

They remind you of the magical lights, bobbing and hanging mid-air, that the Ministry decorated the Atrium ceiling with for the annual Christmas party. That was one year ago, though it feels like a past life, or a dream...

----

One Year Ago, December

You'd never heard the Atrium so full of people and life. It was usually bustling with conversation and noise, but this sort of noise, the happy noise of laughter and popping champagne bottles and high-spirited chatter, that was new.

You crossed your arms, glass in hand, watching contentedly from the sidelines. You never knew how to conduct yourself when Theseus was with Leta, you strangely felt as if you'd be caught doing something wrong. So you endeavored to avoid them both.

And besides, it had shocked you, the dull knife-turn of pain you felt watching him with her, talking to her in the corner at the beginning of the party.

You'd gone mute for the night, head swimming, gazing at the decorative lights floating overhead. All your thoughts felt buoyant, distant and hard to grasp, bobbing in and out. You knew you were spacing out, but you couldn't stop, maybe it was the mulled wine.

You had just turned down the promotion earlier that day.

"We're going to you directly to ask if you want it. We wanted to ask you first," the department head had said with great satisfaction, like he was delivering you a personal gift. "We know if it were up to Theseus he'd have you by his side 'till he retires!"

The last part was said with a half-joking laugh, but you'd tilted your head in confusion.

"Sorry, what?"

The man scoffed.

"He likes you very, very much, Y/N," the man said, like it was obvious. "He's made that explicitly clear to his colleagues who were hoping to share you as an assistant early on. It was his express wish that you work with him alone."

'He likes you very, very much.'

The idea of being liked, chosen by him... It was like a shooting star crashing over your head, light falling around you in bright shards, fatal, dazzling, undeserved.

You startled when you felt a hand on your forearm.

"Y/N," Theseus said, pulling you out of your thoughts. "There you are."

He'd been looking for you. The thought made your heart soar, felt like being chosen all over again.

There was a wild merriment in his eyes. You couldn't tell if he was tipsy or just happy to see you.

"Here I am," you echoed in confirmation.

"Dance with me?" Before you could answer he cautiously pulled both of your hands, winding his fingers through yours and slowly guiding your arms in and out to the rhythm of the song.

You couldn't help but give into him, smile, laugh, you were never not going to say yes.

"Where's Leta?" You didn't want to ask, to ruin the moment, but it seemed right to.

Theseus shook his head and made a tutting, disappointed noise, twirling you around.

You dipped your head back and the lights whirled overhead, too radiant to be stars.

"She left. She doesn't like to dance. Doesn't like parties, actually."

As if afraid you were going to leave him, as if just to hear your laugh again, he spun you once more, more vigorously.

"Dance with me, Y/N," he bemoaned.

You laughed again and let yourself be spun and caught by his arms.

"Aren't I doing that now?"

"Good," he said resolutely, pleased. His smile was infectious. "Don't stop."

You felt like a girl again, weak in the limbs and susceptible to all sorts of hope, the dangerous kind. His hands in yours, the dazzled look in his eyes as they beheld you.. You regretted nothing.

"I won't leave until you tell me to, sir." You added in the honorific sarcastically, to keep the tone light, but the look on your face was terribly earnest. "I promise. You'll have to send me away."

----------

You don't remember falling asleep while looking at the lights on your wall. You didn't mean to think about the Christmas party, about him.

More often than not, more often than even the nightmares about rabid dogs and black water rising and the orphanage, you dream about the last train home. About the night your parents died.

Your family was poor. You did not hold this against them. You were too young to do anything but love your parents dearly, indiscriminately. You were barely seven years old, but you worked most days in the factories of East London and were happy to help, to not be burdensome like the hungry, needy children in story books.

That evening after work you'd been distracted, playing with a stray dog with some other children, and you missed the last train home. You resolved to sleep at the station, flat on the ground of the platform, and take the first train in the morning.

Your parents had gone out looking for you and were killed in a nondescript alleyway, found with their empty pockets turned-out. You dream about that night, that platform on the London Overground, you fear missing that train.

And, now, that is not the only missed train that haunts you.

Someone's here.

You wake, instantly. Your eyes open with a dispassionate immediacy.

There's no train. Fingers twitching, you instinctually reach for your wand for what must be the thousandth time, to protect yourself. Its absence feels full-circle almost.

You remember how you couldn't sleep your first year at Hogwarts, you'd stumble to class with tormented little dark circles under your eyes. You were too terrified to sleep, kept fearing you'd wake up and be back at the orphanage, that it would all be taken away from you if you didn't keep your eyes open.

Strangely, since you arrived in this cell, you haven't had any trouble sleeping at all. You sleep most of the day away curled up on the floor like a baby.

"Queenie," you mutter, sitting up falteringly. "Watching me sleep, are you?"

Queenie is standing with perfect posture in the corner of your cell, by the door, wringing her hands.

"I don't know how you sleep like that, on the floor..." She seems genuinely upset when you look up at her. “You must miss all your things. Your home. Your family… I’m so sorry this has happened to you.”

You shake your head slowly.

“No. I was born with nothing, nothing. This room it feels…” You glance around, as if seeing it through Queenie’s eyes, seeing it for the very first time.

Metal chair with a missing leg in the corner. Filthy blanket on the floor. It’s more barren than awful, anyone could’ve lived here. 

“It feels familiar to me," you admit.

Queenie says nothing, eyes wide. Since you met her here, she’s never seemed at ease, never seems to know what to say. For a moment the two of you just sit there in vacant silence, neither of you really present.

"You don't say his name anymore."

You don't even want to acknowledge the comment, you stare at the corner of the wall and hope what she's said will just go away if you don't.

"Theseus," she says explanatorily, as if you didn't understand her. The word is an affront from her mouth, worse than a slap, it makes your stomach twist. You feel exposed. "Do you...Do you feel betrayed by him? That he hasn't come..."

You close your eyes to gather your bearings.

"No," you say. "It would be very strange, almost a pleasure, if anyone in the world could betray me. Stab me in the back. I don't trust or know anyone well enough for that. I wish."

You're trying to sound self-deprecating, maybe even funny, but there's no energy behind it.

Queen looks at you sadly, sympathetically. Sometimes you forget about her ability to hear your thoughts. How futile it is to lie to her now. It embarrasses you, that you still care what she thinks. That you're still attempting to shirk off your pain for her sake.

“But Queenie,” you turn your head to her, defeat written all over your face. “Queenie, my God, what am I doing here?”

Your life is in tatters again and you don’t even know why. They tortured and questioned you when you first arrived, but you hadn't seen anyone but Queenie since.

“You’re a spy. You were working with the Scamanders,” she recites this as if reading off a rap sheet. It’s clear it’s what she’s been told, and is the flimsy, defensive logic she’s using to justify you being here.

“So why hasn’t he killed me already?” You can’t help how lifeless your voice sounds, almost bored.

Too much pain is a deadening, desensitizing thing. At some point, it ceases to be effective. Grindelwald’s followers have pushed you past that point. 

Queenie’s expression shutters closed.

She always seems so conflicted, whether she’s helping you or following Grindelwald’s orders, there’s some secret turmoil eating her up inside.

“Please,” you say.

“Grindelwald thinks you could play an important part in his plans, in the Spring. It’s… Do you know The Predictions of Tycho Dodonus?”

You know it from school. You think back to the Lestrange Mausoleum, to what Newt told you. 

“Prophecy 20? But Credence he can’t be-“

“No, Prophecy 21.” 

You stare at her, not following. 

When she speaks it’s as if her voice comes from behind her, not from her. The prophecy tumbles from her painted mouth and fills the desolate cell:

“Come bleeding springtime,

come new leaves, come bone:

A lone daughter destined,

Without bloodline or home,

To transform darkest skies,

With great power, unknown.” 

She looks at you meaningfully. 

You scoff.

“Kill me then. That I am living…. Your Grindelwald is a fool.”

Queenie bristles defensively. “No! H-He is a great man who-“

You wave her off, weakly.

“There are plenty of muggleborn witches without homes, Queenie. Just head to the orphanage Hogwarts plucked me from in North London and you’ll see. The prophecy is not about me. I’m nothing special. I’m nothing…” 

You know your fatigue isn’t natural. Despite Queenie’s best efforts, you are malnourished. Made simple-minded and irritable because of it. Frail.

You don’t hide your spell of faintness as well as you hoped to. Your eyelids are low, sedated.

Ever the mother hen, Queenie rushes to your side, kneeling.

“Let me sneak in more food, honey. Just give me a moment, I can-“

“Wand,” you say, your voice battered and forceless. It’s a strain to lift your eyes to meet Queenie’s then, to open them. But you make a point to.

Your voice is feeble, but your eyes are challenging, fierce.

“Queenie, if you really want to help me, get me a wand.” 

“Y-You’re too weak. Even if I could get one to you, it would be too difficult for you to escape, to fight them, there’s—“

Your laugh is so deranged sounding, so sharp and unhinged that it silences her, cuts through the empty room bright and blade-like.

“Queenie,” you sigh. “Why do all wizards talk like that? Magic is the easiest thing in the world. Besides, you haven’t seen me fight.” 

-----

No one expects it.

You've been so docile and half-alive after being tortured, the guard who brought your meal is so confused he doesn't fight back at all, merely tumbles backwards with astonished, wide eyes until you're able to knock him unconscious.

When Queenie brought you the wand earlier that day you'd tried in vain to convince her to come along with you. To escape and return to her sister, Tina.

She hadn't even said no, she just said, "I'm sorry."

Your legs wobble with every hurried, barefoot step. God, you don't know when the last time you walked was, nevertheless ran. It doesn't help that the castle is foreign to you. Queenie's succinct directions did little to capture the sheer, gargantuan size of the building.

Turn left. Down the staircase. Turn right. There's a locked door at the end of the hall. There might be guards on the other side.

You recite the instructions again and again, more to stay sane than to memorize them.

You round a corner too fast and are met with three men, dressed in dark tailored-suits. You unleash three spells, one for each, quick, tearing through them before they can even turn. You don't breathe, you don't miss.

You feel sorry for it, but you can't afford to be delicate or careful or merciful. Every second you're here is a moment Grindelwald could realize what's going on and come kill you in a heartbeat.

Hearing the ruckus, another man comes flying down the main hall, snarling.

"Avada Kedavr-"

You spot the exit and don't stick around, ducking your head and tumbling out into the courtyard, twisting your ankle but not missing a beat.

You keep running forward, stumbling, half-delirious, out towards the main iron gate.

You're shocked to find yourself at the summit of some snowy mountain. The world is blindingly white. The building you've come from is some stony fortress, more grand than you'd imagined from the bleak confines of your cell.

The air is arid, thin and dry with brutal cold. It burns to breathe in. Cuts like sandpaper in your throat.

You have to get past the gate to surpass Grindelwald's anti-apparition charm.

Almost there, I'm almost-

With a jolt you turn around. You can feel him looking at you, feel the strength of his gaze with the same recognition of a prey animal realizing they're being watched, hunted.

Grindelwald.

From the high tower window his face has gone serene with fury. Almost blank. The look in his eyes is beyond angry, it is rage in its purest, most distilled form, he hardly moves.

You tear your gaze away and lurch your body through the front gate.

You don't know where you are, you thought about apparating to London, but that's the first place they'd go to find you again.

Then you think of Hogsmeade, but it fell under the same anti-apparition wards that guarded Hogwarts.

"Nearby, then." You direct your magic, channel and funnel it all in the direction of the place before the image of it is even fully formed in your mind. "Feldcroft."

In a cutting, dizzying whoosh you are spelled away.

Feldcroft was an inconsequential village of wizardfolk, small, rural, not too far afield of Hogwarts. You'd spent one summer holiday there rather than go back to the orphanage, after your first year.

You'd helped a farmer work his land during the long summer days in return for meals and lodging. You were twelve and it was the hottest summer of your life, you hadn't known Scotland could be so hot, but anything was better than going back where you came from, terrified you'd never find your way back.

Before you've even landed you realize your folly. You were too weakened by the torture and starvation, and too far away.

You hit the ground bone-breakingly hard, but you hardly notice that dull, throbbing pain over the sharper, louder pain of being cut to slithers. Your skin twists and tears away from itself, from your muscles, in spirals and stripes. You couldn't fully stick the landing, it's an imperfect apparition, and this is the consequence.

You cry out, a crumpled heap on the frozen ground, limbs twisted and bloody.

With a rapidly blotting vision you strain your neck upwards.

"Did I make it? Am I safe?"

You don't even recognize Feldcroft. Winter had stripped all the fields and mountains of life. Summer, your childhood there, it's all long gone.

Some prophetic witch destined for greatness.

You see the blurred legs of a man approaching. When he leans down to look at your face, your limbs twitch in agonizing protest, but you're too injured to move.

"Y/N?" He says.

You inhale sharply, in pained horror.

"Y/N, I didn't recognize you."

You still can't see very well, but the liquid panic in your veins dissipates at the sound of his voice. You know him.

You hadn't recognized him at first, but it was the farmer, Mr. Howell, from what must've been a decade ago. The old man who had taken you in that summer when you were twelve. You remember him being old then, but he looks impossibly older now, ancient, really.

You don't know what to do with the recognition, with this information, but it doesn't matter because you are bleeding out and, within seconds, you feel a sweet and pain-sapping unconsciousness take you.

----

When you wake your consciousness is a flimsy, fragile thing, like trying to float a feather in air. Your vision is black and brown around the edges.

You're in a bed and Mr. Howell is putting a kettle on. You feel worse than you ever did in captivity of Grindelwald, closer to death.

"It still looks the same," you say, rasping. "I didn't recognize the village, but this house..."

A swell of weakness overtakes you again and your vision almost blacks out completely before returning in a soft vignette.

You can see the farmer, Mr. Howell, staring at you from across the room, at your starved body, your bloodless face.

"What happened to you?" It's so direct a question it's almost startling, almost rude. But it's said with such genuine remorse and concern that your heart softens.

"I..." He licks his lips before starting again. "When I told Minerva I'd agree to take you in that summer... Well, I thought your life was so sad. It was sad you had no one to go home to for the holiday. That your life had been so hard, she told me, about the abuse... But you were so young, such a skinny, hopeful thing. So talented. And good. I was sure it had to get better."

You smile at him, it pains you to do so. The old-you would've bristled, pride scorched, at anyone pitying you. But now you can only smile.

"I always thought the same too, sir."

"Are you in some sort of trouble?" he asks earnestly. "If you are, you're always welcome back at the farm. You know that."

Your heart seizes, your eyes well. You haven't spoken to him since that summer when you were twelve, that September when you thanked him hurriedly and spirited off with badly concealed eagerness to rejoin your friends at Hogwarts, without a glance behind.

"Thank you. It's more than I deserve, but thank you... And, yes. I'm afraid I am in trouble. I've just been a prisoner of Gellert Grindelwald. I'm sorry, I should be leaving, he could come after me."

The man looks taken aback, but ignores your words and asks instead: "Oh, Y/N, you look so unwell. Should I call for someone up at Hogwarts? The hospital wing is obviously reserved for students, but I'm sure-"

"I believe I am going to faint now, I apologize." The words come out of your mouth in an embarrassed rush. The dark edges close in and swallow you up, life itself extinguishes like a candle.

------

Theseus towers over the students at Hogwarts, he tries his best to push his way through the crowded halls without trampling them.

"Professor Dumbledore!" He calls out, giving up. Getting the man's attention must be easier than reaching him at this point.

Dumbledore looks up, startled, from across the sea of black-robed students. He's standing in the doorframe to his classroom.

Theseus imagines how he looks in Dumbledore's eyes--helpless, drowned. Maybe insane.

When Dumbledore waves him over he continues to gently push his way forward.

"I love her, I love her," he's thinking with a plummeting urgency, each internal admission of "I love her" bringing him closer to tears.

"She's not dead. If she was I'd know. I'd feel it. I'd feel her leaving me for good."

"Theseus," Dumbledore shoos the remaining students out and shuts the thick wooden door once Theseus enters. "What is this about?"

Theseus swallows hard and holds Dumbledore's gaze, trying to effuse authority.

"I need you to tell me where Gellert Grindelwald is. Right now."

Dumbledore opens his mouth in a stunted exhale, at a loss for words.

"Pardon?"

"Y/N has been taken prisoner."

"So, what, you're going to charge in there, alone, against Gellert Grindelwald and who knows how many of his supporters?"

Theseus tries not to waver, but the panic is beginning to set in. What if Dumbledore denies him?

"If I have to," he says, purposefully.

Dumbledore walks over to his desk and sits on it, stunned.

"Theseus," he says. "I've known you since you were a boy. I-I'm sorry, but I hardly recognize you. Have you no appeal to reason?"

"None at all, sir."

Dumbledore laughs, and the sound confuses Theseus, upsets him.

"You love her? God, you really do..."

Theseus is willing to destroy himself for it, for you.

"Help me. Tell me where to find her, or I'll find her on my own."

The heavy creaking sound of the door being pushed open causes Theseus to turn in agitation.

A woman in a nurse's uniform glides right past him and up to Dumbledore.

"Albus," she says in apparent distress. Theseus can't make out the rest.

After a moment of the woman's whispering, Dumbledore turns to Theseus, looking at him in sharp alarm.

"What is it?" Theseus says, unkindly. He doesn't care. He just wants to know where you are.

"Fate," answers Dumbledore. The line of his mouth is grave but his eyes are twinkling. "We've had a request from a farmer out in Feldcroft. He says a former student has apparated onto his land and is in dire need of medical care, and protection. That there could be followers of Grindelwald's coming after her shortly."

Theseus doesn't dare breathe. Doesn't let himself feel the acute bite of hope nipping at his heels, at his heart.

"He says her name is Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N."

--------

"Wake up, Y/N."

There are hands on your shoulders. Someone is touching you. Someone is-

Your whole body jerks awake. Your limbs are lashing out, fighting, before your eyes are even open.

"Get off me! Don't fucking touch me! Don't-"

"Y/N! Y/N, it's Theseus," Dumbledore is shouting. "It's okay you're safe-"

"What's happened to her?!"

Even his name didn't stall you, but the sound of his voice, pure and surreal, reaches you through the din of panic roaring in your ears. You exhale.

Once you've stopped kicking and struggling, the room comes into vision.

There are four people surrounding your bed. You're in Mr. Howell's house, of course, of course you are...

There in front of you are Professor Dumbledore, an older woman in a Hogwarts nurse uniform, Mr. Howell, and, impossibly, Theseus Scamander.

Theseus is staring at you, wide-eyed, like he doesn't recognize you. A dot of blood marks his temple, you wonder if it was you who did that just now.

"What's happened to her?" He repeats, his voice cracks. "What--Who did this to her?"

"She's been tortured, Theseus. And starved, maybe worse," says Dumbledore in a clipped, hushed way. "Please, understand, and give her some time to-"

"You're real," your voice is so quiet, so full of wonder, but it captures his full attention.

Theseus is holding his breath in apprehension. You're still staring at him in horrific fascination.

"This isn't--This is real?"

Theseus comes forward and kneels beside the bed, reaches for your arm. You can hardly look at his face, it's so startlingly beautiful. Dark blue eyes. The curve of his lips. It's really him.

"Y/N." He retracts his hand when you flinch, involuntarily. "Y/N, I'm not going to hurt you. I swear, I'm not gonna hurt you..."

You remember that you secretly love when he talks to you like this, whispers like he would to an animal he's trying to soothe, or like he's trying not to wake you. He's speaking so delicately, but you can hear in his voice how his heart is crushed.

Everyone is staring down at you in the bed. You figure you've already been treated from the wet rag on your sweaty forehead and the way every second more and more sensation returns to your fingertips and toes. Your body itches and tingles with a crawling warmth that feels like fever where your flesh has begun to stitch itself back together--the nurse's work, no doubt.

With every breath you return more and more to yourself, the dulled sensations of the world come back in startling pinpricks of color and sound and vividness. The parts of your consciousness that make you you flood back into the frail animal of your body.

"Oh," you say, with a groan, pinching your eyes closed.

Theseus looks startled, turning from the nurse to you frantically.

"Y/N! Are you okay, what's-"

"Oh, Theseus!" You sigh at last, and he looks back to you, his brow still furrowed. You smile at him, not caring how wretched and sickly you look, you're just so happy to see him. "Theseus, you came! I love you, I love you, I love-"

He throws his arms around you, leaning over the bed.

Tears spring to your eyes, but you can't stop smiling.

He won't let go of you, so you don't realize he's crying until you feel his shoulders shaking, the gentle rocking of his frame.

"You're supposed to be the one who is good at being in control," you murmur fondly.

When he pulls away he's collected himself, sniffles once and then groans.

"Oh, God. For a second there I thought you didn't recognize me, that you were scared of me."

"Not of you," you shake your head. "Of...."

The reality of your situation settles like ash in your mouth.

"Albus," you say, turning to others. "We need to go now. I escaped as quickly as I could, but they could follow me here any second. Please."

Dumbledore nods, and then whispers something to the nurse.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. But I don't believe you'll be strong enough to stand. Not yet."

"I've got it," Theseus says cooly, before you can even respond.

"Too weak to stand," you want to snicker but can't summon the energy.

"I knew that was some bullshit prophecy," you mutter, lifting your arms to help Theseus, who is leaning by the bed to pick you up.

He stops. So does Dumbledore. They're both frowning.

"What?"

"Oh," you huff. "Grindelwald thinks Tycho Dodonus's twenty-first prophecy is about me. I'm supposed to be this great witch with the power to transform the world, didn't you know?"

There is a beat of shocked silence before Theseus begins to laugh, heartily so.

You scowl. "Why is that funny?!"

"It's not funny," He caresses your face affectionately with the back of his hand. "It's just that I knew it. I always knew you were destined for greatness. Of course there's a prophecy about you. Of course the world saw you coming..."

Your heart sputters dutifully, weakly. You're torn between leaning into the feeling of his hand on your face and turning away, protecting yourself from what you cannot have.

It still feels so ruined to you. You know he must be doing this out of pity. Out of guilt.

It had been more than two months since he asked you to come with him. Who knows what he's been doing, what he thought of you now...

Your eyes prick with tears at this realization.

You see him through the lens of the memory even as he stands before you. You remember shaking his hand on your first day at the Ministry, dancing with him under twirling lights at the Christmas party, his booming laugh, his gentle chuckle. The warm, growing feeling in your chest knowing you were the cause.

You remember laying naked with him in bed, his broad hands, the barely-there freckles at his temple, the light-colored hair trailing down from his navel, the way he held your legs up when he made love to you, when he was inside you, spreading them, always trying to get deeper, closer. It should be vulgar, the memory, but it doesn't feel that way to you. Every moment of it felt clean, bathed in light and goodness.

Your heart pounds heavily, pathetically. As he helps you up from the bed you have the sickening feeling that you are saying goodbye.

Your vision swoons, sways like an overhead light. Your legs tingle, half-numb.

"I-I can't stand," you whisper. In a swift motion Theseus scoops you into his arms, bridal style.

He has to hold you sideways and duck his head to get through the narrow doorframe, he's so tall. You're asleep again, this time safe in his arms, before you're out of the village, before you can even tell Mr. Howell thank you.

Goodbye! You think. Goodbye...

------

You’re on a train again and Theseus is holding you. You hardly feel the rumble of the train car on the tracks, hardly feel anything at all but his arms around you.

“Where are we going?” You don’t even care, it’s almost perfunctory that you ask. But some distant part of your brain tells you that it does matter where you are, where you’re going in the world. 

“London. You’re weak, we need to take you home.”

Home. You feel so little affection for your apartment that you’re barely able to make the connection.

“I don’t have a home.”

“We can go to mine. We can go anywhere you want.”

“I want to go…” You feel breathless, feeble. Delusional. “I want to pretend that we’re on a different train.”

“Hm?” Theseus strokes your shoulders, your back comfortingly. Since he met you, all he’s ever wanted to do was hug you, hold you. It’s as if he was meant to, how good it feels to be doing it now. 

It's a terrible thing, how badly he wants to kiss you. But he's willing to wait.

“Can we pretend that I made it on time?" you say. "That I made it to the platform, got on the train that day in November and we’re in it now… Pretend that you’re still asking me to love you and that I said yes.”

He turns to you then, you’re still slouched in his arms. You’re looking up at him so brokenly, there’s hardly any of you left. No sign of that headstrong girl who withheld herself from him so vigorously, who built up walls around herself so high no one could hurt her again. 

“Y/N…” The words have been stolen from him, his heart swiped from his chest at the sight of you, at the knowledge that any part of you believes that he might not want you anymore, might not feel the same.

“Y/N, will you love me?” His voice is a quiet, determined plea. “Will you say yes? I am asking you now. The offer still stands, it always will.”

It's Theseus, your handsome, wonderful Theseus, asking you this. He was the best man you knew, but, even if he wasn’t, you couldn't help but love him. It wasn't a choice for you anymore.

Your lip trembles, but you somehow manage to get the words out without whimpering, without collapsing into him outright.

“Yes,” you say. “Always.”

--

taglist: @karashaw99 @gracieroxzy @mystic-mara

[milf--adjacent]

serious voting question: I'm an ml and generally I don't vote. can I ask what your reasoning is for voting third party? I'm curious to round out my opinion a little better

Seeing just how many people voted socialist back in the 19-teens was an inspiration to me as a baby leftist growing up in a deep red state. Even if they didn't win, I saw that I wasn't alone like I felt I was, that even the 'stupid' people of the past had some sense in their heads and supported policy and politics we still need even today. So no. 1 it's for the baby leftists to come who will feel trapped and alone and need a tangible connection to their beliefs: The number of people who simply didn't vote doesn't show up in textbooks, but minor party votes do.

Second: the democratic campaigning apparatus only serves to seperate those willing to organize from meaningful organization. By convincing people to put that same energy into the third party of their choice, we have countered at least a little of the Democrat's anti-revolutionary strategy. If you can convince a progressive to actually act and vote like a progressive, that's someone who might actually help when you need to set up a soup kitchen or protest in the future.

Thirdly: Many of these "I'm gonna vote anyway so I might as well vote blue" folks have never engaged in organizing. Getting involved with 3rd parties puts them in touch with others who are of a similar political slant, the first (and often most difficult) step in organizing. At least with the Greens in most places, they actively ask for help of all sorts, giving people experience in organizing they can build on as they become more politically involved. More people who know how to organize is never a bad thing.

Fourthly: If a third party can get just 5% of the national vote in an election, they are entitled to national campaign funding and a space in the official debates in the coming election. This would be a much needed shift in American politics. Democrats sound much more like republicans than leftists, and that's part of why they never get involved in the free and equal debates: the democrats are to the right of the fucking libertarians on a number of policies.

Finally: if a 3rd party candidate did win the presidency, a lot of the good things the democrats have held over our heads like bait for decades would get done, and people would have more time and energy to commit to political actions. I support 3rd party politics because at the very least it shakes things up a little. The status quo is what's killing us and any effort to change that disorganizes and spreads our true enemies thinner. Center-left socialism will not save us, but it will at least address the social ills of our society in a helpful way and attempt to tackle crisies like climate change, policing, and ending foreign policy fiascos via slashing the bloated military budget (even the fucking libertarians are running on that).

The general population of the US will refuse to even consider actual leftist politics without some sort of shift in our electoral politics. Instead of apathy and middle-finger-hoisting inaction, I chose an action with lasting strategic value. If we want a real "the revolution will not be televised" moment, we have to slap the soma of blue-tie lies out of enough hands to get people to pay attention. 3rd party electoralism is a step in the correct direction for them and a path I have started many people down already. I plan to continue until there is no need for it.

[kanansdume]

What's crazy and really shows off how impeccably awful this show managed to be is how DIFFERENT Anakin feels between the Kenobi show and the Ahsoka show, despite the fact that he's being played by the same actor probably within a year of each other if that.

And it's so clearly not the fault of the performer, Hayden Christensen is doing the absolute MOST to give an authentic and familiar performance of Anakin in the Ahsoka show and on a STRICTLY acting standpoint, I think he succeeds. People have pointed out that the Anakin that Hayden is playing in the flashbacks, despite being in the TCW costumes, does not at all feel like TCW Anakin. There's nothing suave or charming about him. When he tries to joke and Ahsoka pushes back against it, he immediately gets defensive, which is perhaps one of the most in-characters thing about the entire performance. And obviously his performance as Sith Anakin is pure perfection.

But it's not just the performance that creates a character. It's the way other people discuss the character, it's the way that character impacts the world around them, it's what we as the audience are allowed to see of them.

In the Obi-Wan show, Anakin at his best is still a whiny little asshole. In the flashback scene, he's arrogant, he's overconfident, he's a little bit of a bully, he's stubborn, and he's a sore loser. It's left a little ambiguous as to whether this scene was a true flashback or something Else, but the dialogue of the scene and who is currently "winning" the match clearly are intended to parallel what's going on in the actual plot between Obi-Wan and Anakin. Which means you can just as easily interpret this as saying that the whiny little asshole you remember from the prequels is still the person behind that mask. Yes, he's got a vocoder changing his voice into something more menacing, his expressions hidden behind an emotionless mask, but that whiny teenager is still calling the shots here. That's precisely what motivates him. Even if it's intended as a more legitimate flashback, that's supposed to be Anakin at his BEST and he's... whiny. He's arrogant. You can say he can grow out of it at this point and that's clearly what Obi-Wan believes in the moment, but the best he's got is... still this.

And he never grew out of it, he never left that arrogance and entitlement behind. He decided to let it define him instead. He might've had promise if he'd chosen to outgrow his more negative traits, but he didn't. He just stayed forever in the mindset of that annoying little 19 year old asshole.

And at his worst, Anakin's a literal unhinged MONSTER. He's casually walking by and murdering innocents just to get Obi-Wan's attention, he's stabbing Reva just because he can, he's ripping open ships, he's burning Obi-Wan alive out of vengeance. His face when that mask comes off has a manic GLEE as he talks about having "killed" himself just to try to manipulate Obi-Wan and the way he screams Obi-Wan's name at the end is so intensely disturbing. So many people saw that moment as Anakin having this moment of mindfulness, but I didn't see or hear a single sane moment in the entire scene. The whole thing is off-kilter and it feels pretty intentionally off-kilter, both in the writing and the acting and directing. Anakin's made his choice. This is it.

In the Kenobi show, Anakin might've once had promise. But he also had immense potential for monstrous evil, that was ALSO there as well. And whatever promise used to be there is now squandered in favor of the arrogance and cruelty and entitlement, which means that it's not worth Obi-Wan's time and effort and energy continuing to wonder what if about it. Because, quite honestly, it doesn't MATTER. Obi-Wan isn't fighting for Anakin anymore by the end. He's not fighting to destroy Anakin, but he's not fighting to save him, either. And the whole point of his relationships with Luke and Leia is that he has to learn to care about them for who THEY are rather than because he cared about their biological parents. He has to see them for who they've become and allow them to grow without worrying about how much like Anakin or Padme they might end up being. They're not Anakin and Padme, they're Luke and Leia, and his relationship with them is ultimately better for letting go of seeing them as anything other than who they actually are.

The people who were in charge of the Kenobi show clearly understood that in order for Obi-Wan to stand on his own as a main character of his own story, they needed to clearly differentiate him from Anakin and FREE him from Anakin. Yes, Obi-Wan is built to be Anakin's narrative foil and has been since day 1. Yes, Obi-Wan's story is very tied up in Anakin's. But this was OBI-WAN'S story and just for this one moment, they could let Obi-Wan be more than just someone who revolves around Anakin. He's his own person who makes his own connections and relationships that have nothing to do with Anakin and he only truly starts to feel like himself again when he walks away from Anakin and leaves him behind and accepts that Anakin has chosen to be someone that Obi-Wan cannot change. No one writing the Kenobi show wanted Obi-Wan to be more IMPORTANT to the narrative than Anakin, but they were able to allow Anakin to take a back seat so that Obi-Wan could actually grow and develop into his own character.

The same cannot be said for the Ahsoka show.

In the Ahsoka show, Anakin is portrayed IMMENSELY positively. At his best, Anakin is a wise powerful sage watching over someone he cares about and pushing her to be better. At his worst, he's... pushing her a little? They MENTION he's intense, and we see visions of him as a Sith, sure, but if that was Anakin at all, then it leaves you with the impression that he only pushed Ahsoka because he cared about her and she needed it and he was ultimately right to do so anyway. Was it tough? I guess, but nothing that would ultimately truly hurt her at all. Anakin's worst sins aren't touched on at all. Anakin is constantly remembered as someone who was GOOD without really acknowledging that while he might've been good at times, he wasn't always. Even when Ahsoka remembers him as a good master, he was still someone who believed in fascism and had massacred an entire village down to the last child. That person Ahsoka remembers was still a bad person and this show desperately wants you to forget that any of that is true about him.

And via proxies like Sabine and Ahsoka herself, this show DEFENDS Anakin's choices across the board. It's not even just that he was a good master, but that he ultimately did the RIGHT THING by choosing Padme over the galaxy because he did it out of "love," turning the genocide of the Jedi into something that was caused by their OWN failures instead of Anakin's failures.

There's zero recognition that Anakin was, ultimately, a failure. He was a failure as a Jedi, a failure as a master, a failure as a husband and a father, and a failure just as a generally good person. Anakin was a bad person who did bad things. Maybe he wasn't always, maybe he had his moments, fine, but overall? What's the legacy he leaves? What are people going to truly remember him for most? Despite his choice to save Luke in his last moments, his impact upon the galaxy is still a net negative.

And Ahsoka can have good memories of him and still recognize that Anakin's impact upon the galaxy was a bad one. She can choose to focus on the good memories she has without pretending like he was in actuality a good master who did nothing wrong. It's not like those two things can't co-exist and that is, in essence, exactly what Obi-Wan has to do. It's why he can say honestly and genuinely tell Leia at the end of the show that her father was "passionate, fearless, and forthright" even though just a day or so ago he'd accepted that Anakin himself had chosen to be an evil person now. He can remember Anakin as the friend he'd cared for AND recognize that the person Anakin is now is not that person anymore. Anakin NOW is evil, Anakin NOW doesn't deserve Obi-Wan's time or focus or grief, Anakin NOW needs to just be let go of. They aren't two separate people, obviously, but people do grow and change, and Obi-Wan once loved Anakin, but the boy Obi-Wan loved is gone because Anakin has chosen not to be that kind of person anymore. He's not kind, he's not compassionate, he's not merciful, or thoughtful or any of the good qualities he used to have. The Kenobi show forces both Obi-Wan and the audience to recognize that no matter how good someone might once have been, it's important to recognize when they're not acting like that person anymore and it's better to let them go and walk away.

And the reason Ahsoka can't do that is because the writers can't. The people in charge of writing Anakin in this show see him so differently than the people who wrote Kenobi. The the writers of the Ahsoka show, Anakin is "the greatest of all of the Jedi," not even just for raw power reasons, but because he understood what love was all about and felt it so deeply. So instead of that love twisting him and being in so many ways his greatest flaw, it turned into his greatest strength, something the Jedi just didn't understand. They're coming at Anakin from a WILDLY opposite direction here and so the way he gets depicted and spoken about comes across so unnervingly different.

You CAN see it as Ahsoka just... viewing Anakin differently. Obi-Wan knew Anakin as a child and was a Jedi Master before the betrayal, so he is more capable of viewing Anakin as the whole of what he was and letting him go. Whereas Ahsoka was a lot younger, she barely got any training before the betrayal, so her perspective on him is intensely skewed by this. She can't truly conceive of Anakin as both the good master she remembers AND the nightmare monster she knows he became, so she just... picks one. She chooses to see him as a good master and that's it. Nothing else he ever did matters. She never has to think about the genocide, the murders, the enslavement, the betrayals. He was a good master, and that's the end of the story. This is the best way she can learn to cope with this particular trauma is to just... ignore it and decide it didn't happen and so her version of Anakin is the ONLY version of Anakin.

But the narrative itself sort-of presents this as the honest truth of Anakin rather than just Ahsoka's perspective on the matter. It's not that Ahsoka just can't cope any other way, it's that this is, legitimately, who Anakin was. Anakin WAS a good master and the fact that he abandoned Ahsoka to die and tried to kill her and genocided her people and desecrated her home apparently doesn't change that at all. Because he did all of it for love. And the fact that Anakin was the "greatest of all the Jedi" because of this means that Ahsoka gets exalted even more so because of that.

But Obi-Wan doesn't need that. He doesn't need to be exalted as better than everyone else, he doesn't need to be made important by manipulating the narrative. He already IS important and the people writing his story know that. He's not important because he's better than Anakin, he's important just because he is. He's baked into this story and can't be removed from it without completely undoing it and telling a totally new story. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka are, in some ways, total opposites. Obi-Wan is a massively important character to the narrative who's never been the main character of his own story before the Kenobi show, while Ahsoka spent a long time as the main character of her story but has never and will never be that important to the narrative. She can be added to it and give some extra dimension to it, but she can be pretty easily removed from it, too.

And their relationships to Anakin in their respective shows seem to reflect the way the writers feel about those facts and their understanding of the characters themselves.