#we're never escaping steam

[kesslersymbolic]

Years after first contact is achieved the first humans to get a tour of the known galaxy are witnessing ever greater wonders, today they are seeing a true marvel, a working Dyson sphere. It's a collosal structure gathering almost the entire energy from a star, how such a system can possibly turn that into energy is a burning question and the exchange goes as follow;

Elizabeth (earth head liaison) "so, how exactly do you convert the power of the sun into energy? Is it some advanced form of solid state power or something even beyond that?"

Yi'awa (alien liaison, name chosen based on misunderstanding of human societies views on aliens) "the system is simple, the Dyson sphere focus the light via gigantic lenses to a facility at the L1 point of the third planet, there the intense light boils water into steam which drives turbines to generate electricity"

[entire human delegation screams]

[pbnbucks]

word count : 807

warnings : smut, reasonably emotional

summary : paige’s graduation party leaves you emotional and horny for your childhood best friend who commonly teases you

request : “Can you please do a Paige x y/n one shot for prompt number 8/9 in the smut prompts? llysm your work is so good!!!”

your hands clapped together along with others when paige walked out into the back yard coming back from her graduation seeing the large tables filled in her yard along with the grills that are steaming with burgers and hotdogs as she hugs each one of her family members saving you for last pulling you in for a hug as she pulls away you place a lingering kiss on her cheek

“looking this good just for me mama?” your best friend teases you as her jokes never fail to put a smile on your lips

“well i had to since you want to leave me in minnesota so you can go to Connecticut to be with all your fangirls” you laugh messing with her as she fakes a pout “you know your the only one i got eyes for” she takes her graduation cap off as it leaves her hair all frizzy as you run your fingers through her hair fixing her hair,

once your finished you take a step back eyeing her frame and her curves making her blush at your focus on her “We're in public, you know?” she retorts trying to seem flattering “oh shut up playboy”

your helping her mom when the blonde comes back behind you asking you to help pick out a outfit as she wanted to take you for a walk downtown tonight.

you follow behind her up the long slim stairs walking into her room carefully shutting the door behind you.

her familiar room that was once cleaned was now filled with card board boxes that was packed with clothes and gear for her college years as your eyes lingered on the frames filled with pictures of memories over the years that where now stuffed into the boxes as well.

your facial expressions didn’t slip past paige with her giving you a worried look “what did i do mama? how can i fix it?” she sits on the edge of her bed as she pulls you in to sit on her lap as your head lays on her shoulder as you sulk in your feelings

“your leaving me p” you coo as the blonde was now going to be hours away since you decided to go to the university of minnesota and she decided to take her dreams to the university of Connecticut.

her thumb come down to your chin moving it for you to look up at her “im always going to be there for you, i promise” she whispers as her words send the shivers down your spine “i love you paige”

your softened tone must of flipped a switch in her because now her face inched closer to yours leaving barely an inch before you moved into her embrace as your lips fought for dominance as your body inches closer to her.

you bit her lip softly making a moan escape from her lips as she flips your back on to the bed hovering over you as the necklace you gifted her now dangled over your face as the heart shaped diamond shined over the dark room.

“you should know im not going to let you be in charge mama” she tries to convince you but you know one day she will let you top as her kisses linger from your neck to your lower stomach as she looks up for consent as you give her a quick nod for her to hurry up.

her tongue licks a long stripe between your dripping folds as your legs slightly squirm from the pleasure feeling making her smirk in pride while she continues to lap at your cunt while her tongue teasingly slips in your hole often not failing her teasingly playful manner.

her finger slips into your core slowly adding another one as moans begin to slip out from the feeling “Quiet. We don't wanna get caught now, do we?” she reminds you as some of her family are sitting inside away from the heat.

her attack on your clit never faulted as your lower stomach began to burn making you wince at the close feeling of pleasure as your hand is placed on her head.

“your worth the long wait princess” she coos as her moans send a vibration through your core as you feel the knot begin to collapse

“paige, need to cum” you force out as you can already feeling it break as she speeds up her movements as your liquids come crashing on your tongue as your head pushes in to the pillow you once rested innocently on muffling your moans. she licks up every last bit of cum she can as she pulls herself up over you

“so you wanna tell me how good i am or just keep staring at me?” her playfulness returns as she gives you a quick peck “paige” you whine as her spark comes back.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Oh Dearest Horror I would love to go on a multi day winter hike with you ❤️❤️❤️

"warm?"

Horror's voice was so very soft. With your back against his chest, you could feel it pleasantly reverberating through your whole body.

How could you be any warmer? Though your breaths escaped in puffs of steam, you were cuddled in his lap, your hood pulled down over your head. You wore a heavy knitted sweater lined with fur and cotton, a blanket Horror had carried the whole way wrapped snugly around you, his own huge arms tucked around your middle, and his massive thick wings laid over the top like your very own fluffy down blanket. Snowflakes still speckled the mottled browns and blacks. He was so comfy - he felt so secure, he smelled like delicious cooked meat and home. With how snuggled you were against him, you couldn't have possibly felt more secure or safe.

"Yes." You assured, rubbing the thumb of your gloved hand over the forearm locked around your middle. "I'm very very warm."

He purred, gently. It was like sitting in a massage chair. "ok."

You looked up, admiring the scenery. Horror always knew the best places. But this place was particularly nice. He'd led you into a forest of willow trees, their branches frozen in a way you'd never seen before - rather than being loaded with snow, they were laden with droplets of clear ice that twinkled like a sea of hanging crystals. He eventually settled into a clearing, laying down his bags and setting out a tarp so he could sit with his back against a tree.

He had invited you to sit beside him. You picked his lap instead.

"This place is beautiful." Years of wandering in his free time had made him intimately familiar with a landscape not many dared to see. You felt flattered every time he expressed that he wanted you to join him on his hikes. "I'm glad you brought me here."

"just wait," he murmured. "trust me."

You didn't need to be told twice. You nestled against him, eyes getting heavy. Comfortable silence covered the two of you, like just another lovely blanket.

After a little while, the aurora started to emerge from the sky. It snaked across the darkness above you, a ghostly flickering slowly gaining power and colour - a trickle increasing into a stream, then a river, then a silent rushing current of green fire full of its usual glory. You watched it in quiet, cosy delight.

Something in the corner of your vision. A twinkling. At first, you thought it might just be the aurora into the backs of your eyes. But it was too sharp for that. You stopped watching the sky, glancing down to the surrounding forest instead.

The ice hanging from the trees was beginning to glimmer. You drew in a breath. The light was catching in the icicles; they were all beginning to twinkle, new stars emerging from the once-dark woods surrounding you.

... Then the aurora gained strength. And the icicles started to reflect.

You gasped; every icicle that could see the sky was shining, casting sparkles of blue and green onto the snow below, a ring of coloured flecks that slowly shifted and circled as the aurora moved. Like a sunrise, the collective glow of the reflections began to set the whole forest alight - all around you, light and colours, rainbows as far as your eyes could see. A sea of stars across the snow, casting away into the distance.

There were two night skies. One above, and one all around you.

Horror seemed to like your reaction. He nestled his chin onto the top of your head, purring just that bit more.

"knew... you'd like this."

"I-I do," you replied, unable to look away from the lights. It was like being inside a gemstone. "I really do. How did you... know about this place?"

You felt his warm breath across your hair. "found it. thought of you."

"So we're the only ones who know this is here?"

"mhm."

"It's magical."

"s'ours."

You leant back against his chest, breathless. "Can we stay here until the aurora sets?"

A hum of affirmation.

You wriggled somewhat - you tugged one of your gloves off and poked your bare hand out from under the blanket. Still beneath his wings, you found the large clawed hand of the big comfy arm wrapped around you, touching the top of his palm.

He let out a sound you'd come to call his 'happy grumble'. To the untrained ear, it seemed like a growl. But it was a sound of unfiltered delight.

He turned his hand over, and enclosed yours in his own.

You stayed like that, as close to 'hand in hand' as the two of you could get... even well after you'd already fallen asleep.

[saphirafoxgirlspost1]

(Open Rp) "How to Create a Perfect Man"

A Long time Ago In the Good Neighborhood, Saphira had been married to A Decent man name "Daniel Landus Rooster" For Seventeen years..Or So She thought..During the Seventeen years of marriage, Saphira Caught him Cheating On Her With her Neighbor Name Lydia and Lydia is too Married as well…and Saphira Scolded Daniel So harshly..that she will threaten him to call his parents about this..Daniel Knew what His parents is Capable of, He Knew His parents "HATES" Cheating and all..So Daniel begged Saphira forgiveness and all..Saphira decided to Give him a Last chance..but one condition..He has to Wear a chasity belt as Punishment, She asked How long is he and lydia had been having an affair and then he said 3 Months..so she said to him as punishment, He has to wear a Chasity belt For 3 months and Daniel look defeated.. Lydia's Husband however began to dragged Lydia out and Made a huge Scolding and began to Divorce her clean out.. Three Months Has Passed and the chasity belt is off from daniel. On the Seventeenth Year, Saphira was ready to Have a Seventeen Year Anniversary Dinner set up..until She heard the Ruckus.. Then she went upstairs and began to take a look of whats going on And There Saphira Saw him and Her other Neighbor name "Claudia" is making love..Then She began to Slammed the door Open as the two in bed Froze in shock when they see Saphira with a Wrathful look on her face..and She said,

Saphira: "DANIEL! WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE SMILING DEVIL IS GOING ON HERE!!!??"

Daniel:"Saph! I Can explain!! This Isn't what it looks like!"

Saph:" Oh I Know what it Looks like! It Looks like you and My Neighbor is Making beast with two backs on OUR WEDDING ANNIVERSARY!!!"

Daniel yelped as Claudia was trying to escape..but the Husband Came in and he said,

Husband: "CLAUDIA! WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MR. ROOSTER!!??"

Claudia: "Honey I can Explain!"

Husband: " Your making love with a Married man!! How could you do this!?"

Claudia: "Don't put this on me! Your the one who's sleeping around with other Women!"

Then saphira Cut in

Saph: " WHOA WHOA WHOA!! What!? Do you really tell me that The Neighbor hood Husbands cheats on wives, And Now Wives Cheats on husband! AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO'S FAITHFUL HERE!!?"

Saphira was Hell raising Angry when her face turns red..and steaming coming out of her head clean..

Saphira:" Since When the Whole Neighborhood Became a FUCKING NEIGHBORHOOD WHOREHOUSES!!!?? Turns to daniel Daniel! Is there Something I should Know about it? Hmm?!"

Daniel: looked defeated and ashamed "Yes..I've Slept with 55 Different women..plus claudia..including the 5 others before marriage."

Saph: eye widen and began to go into rage " You…WHAT!??? How Could you do this to me!? Your telling me..that you've been sleeping around with 61 women this whole time!!??"

Then Daniel Nodded with shame and defeat, Then Saphira said Something that Everyone will be shocked

Saph: " THATS IT!! Daniel Landus Rooster! We Are getting a DIVORCE!! And I'm going to Sue Your 61 Whore of yours and I hope you Will Pay the Settlement Fee along With your 61 harlots!! You better be Lucky that we don't Have Kids..because I'm going to be Feeling guilty about this..and every child who is Born affair..WILL NEVER BE HAPPY! And Also Daniel..I'm Calling your parents and tell Them about this..and Boy…You better be Prepare what Will happen When I'm Done with you!"

Daniel: " Oh god! Please Not my parents!! They'll Sent me Away to Gentleman School again! It's Like hell!"

Saph:" Well Thats Too Goddamn Bad! You Shouldn't Cheat on me in the first place, and Yet you did! with 61 Different women! Enough is Enough! I regret Giving you a last chance and I should've Divorce you when I got a Chance, So We're getting a Divorce and THATS FINAL! and I'm Selling this House and Move away from this.. Neighborhood of Infidelities! I will Not Live with anyone Who would became a Serial Cheater!"

After the Confrontation, Saphira Called His parents and Told Them everything. When They Heard Saphira about Daniel and all, they were So Livid that they head there and Made Daniel Sign the divorce Papers Which Daniel was so Stubborn to sign it until His Father Threaten him to Cut ties if he Didn't Sign it…So Next day, She sued 61 different women for settlement fee..All of them paid her in Huge Lump sum and So does Daniel whom he's the Source of all the troubles.. After She Sell the House..She Moved away to a Nice Country Side where they Have a Nice Big Small town Full of good decent people.. But 4 years had passed, Saphira Felt a bit empty in Her heart but..She Blamed Herself For giving her "Ex" Husband a Second Chance, However this Doesn't Stop to find a Good decent man better than Daniel Rooster. Meanwhile at the Lab that Saphira made a great Buisness there..but There was a Slime Creature that was sealed up in the glass chamber and sees the Picture of Saphira as the Daughter of the CEO On the wall..it can't help but fell in love with her..but then Her father complain that She needs a man who would love her,,a man who is strong and kind and very Protective to her..and be there when she needed the most…as the slime creature heard what he said, He had a plan to escape and that night..he Broke out and began to see the Absorbing elixir and then he drank up and began to hunt down a good strong men..and went to the small town..and found alot of good looking and strong men..as one by one..it absorbs them..and when it went behind her home..and suddenly..the skeleton hand emerge from the slime..and the rest of it..and the slime began to cover the skeleton and transforms into a One handsome Man that saphira's father wanted Saphira to have…as He comes to the door..and knocks on it..as Saphira opens the door..and she said," hello?" Then he answered…

[golden-ebony]

To Love You Is To Know You ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

♡ Pairing: Logan Howlett/female!Reader

♡ Word Count: 7.3k

♡ Rating: Explicit 18+

♡ Warning/Tags: smut, minor dni, good mix of fluff & angst, brief mention of mutant abuse, no use of y/n, unprotected sex, p to v sex, fingering, oral sex, FLUFF FLUFF, cross-post from AO3

♡ Summary: "Logan has never been an open person. Despite you wanting to love him with everything you had, how could you if he continuously kept you at an emotional arm’s length?"

♡ Note: I haven't written in FOREVER and I got locked out of my old writing account @printedpeterparker from 2 years ago! But dare I say?? We're sooo back! Might even post some revised posts from my previous account.

The sounds of the city seemed amplified tonight. You were drifting in and out of sleep, never finding a rhythm. You were close to finding that rhythm until the sounds of old floorboards and the creaky bedroom door filled the room as well.

He was home.

3:56 A.M.

Heavy steps slowly waltzed into the room. The door was softly closed behind them. Logan never liked to wake you, yet he always did. The blame wasn’t entirely on him and his inability to be discreet in this old apartment. Logan’s apartment was particularly loud. If it wasn’t the furnace rattling, it was police sirens flooding the night. You couldn’t stand being here alone. But with Logan? There was a sweet comfort when you got to hear his heart rate slow when you lay on his chest.

At this point, you had spent multiple nights at Logan’s while your apartment building was being fumigated. Your night would be going well until you saw him get a text or call from Wade. He’d tell you that he had to leave and would be back as soon as he could. Every time, he got better at dodging your questions. You would try and wait for him, but you never could make it past 1:30.

And just like all of the nights before this one, he would immediately head toward the bathroom for a shower, not wanting you to see him in his present condition, you assumed. The shower ran, steam and light slipping into the room from the crack door. He never wanted to get into what he was doing with Wade under the cover of night. Wade would jest that they were simply partaking in the world’s oldest profession as “men of the night.” Logan would snark, but it was always clear that he didn’t want to talk about it— not with you, at least.

“I don’t want you to know me like that.”

“And if I did?”

“It’s not something I like to think about.”

The conversation rang in your mind like a broken record as the shower ran. Pressing the issue during the witching hours didn’t seem like the time then. Then again, it never felt like the time. You weren’t native to what Logan could do or had done. You could only imagine what he was actually doing. There were times where he selected to be more forthcoming about his past, probably still sparing you the worst of it. The worst of him, maybe. 

But you’ve seen the remnants of blood, never sure if it’s his or not, in the bathroom, despite Logan’s best attempts to not leave a trace of his night. As the water stopped, you could always listen for the inevitable groans of Logan and the ripping of paper towels, an unique part of his night shower regiment. The bathroom light eventually turned off, only the glow from the street lights outside draped the room. You felt the slight breeze on your back and Logan lifted the comforter, shifting the weight of the bed as he climbed in.  He instinctively pulled you close to his bare chest, wrapping his arm around your abdomen At this point, you both knew you were awake.

A deep and throaty sigh escaped his lips, one he had probably been holding in since he made it home. You melted into his embrace, the city only seemed to whisper— finally feeling at rest.

You lifted his hand from your abdomen, softly laying two kisses in gaps between his knuckles. Your hand laid over his before placing it back on your abdomen. An act that made Logan flinch the first few times you did it had now fully stripped him of every defense. 

No words were spoken. Yet, his words still rang.

Logan hadn’t fully woken up. His eyes still remained shut, but he was alone. His hand lazily swept where you had laid; warmth still radiated next to him. With furrowed brows, his eyes tried adjusted to the gleam of the sun

“I was going to let you sleep a little longer, Lo” your voice was barely above a whisper His eyes swiftly found you standing in the doorframe of his bathroom, fully awake now. Logan propped himself up to admire you in your red shorts, white t-shirt, and the sweetest smile as you sauntered over to his side of the bed. “You got in pretty late.” 

“Yeah, didn’t think I’d be out that late…” His words dropped off as he watched you take a seat next to him, running your hand across his defined chest. “It’s mostly Wade and his damn mouth that holds us up.” 

“Hm, wanna talk about it?” you hummed, perking yourself up a little. 

Logan’s lust-filled eyes had been unchanged since he spotted you in the doorframe. A look that made you think he would tear your shorts off with his teeth if he had to.  He wanted to.

He sat up further before snaking his arm around your waist, fingers pressed into your side. “Now why would I talk about that bum when I got the sweetest thing right here? C’mere.” A short gasp escaped your lips as he swiftly pulled you onto his lap. As you straddled his hips, he steadied your hips with one strong hand while the other ran under your tee and up your spine. You felt like a schoolgirl with the way he made you blush. 

Before you could mutter a word, Logan’s hungry lips were already on yours. You couldn’t help but to cup his breaded cheeks into your hands. Soft moans and grunts mixed between your lips, but your mind began to drift, knowing Logan evaded your question without missing a beat. Regardless, your body felt like it could only react to his touch, especially while his lips slipped down to your pulse. You felt your breath hitch in your throat.

Sometimes, you hated how good he was at getting you going.

“Logan…” Every part of you wanted that to come out sternly. It definitely didn’t. You were still trying to catch your breath. In fact, hearing his name fall from your lips only lit a flame in him

“C’mon, baby,” Logan’s voice was low against your neck, tracing your pulse with his lips, “tell me what you want.”

“I-I want…” You couldn’t even think straight, but if you didn’t get this out now, you might as well just surrender, “I w-want you to tell me why-y there are so-o many bloody towels in the garbage.”

Logan paused for a moment. You took the moment to lean back to meet his furrowed eyeline. He was shrugging, “Just from cleaning up this morning. I’ll take the garbage out, alright?” He pulled you in again, but pulled back, still eyeing him.

“Logan, what were you doing last night? Or any of those other nights?” you softly asked, trailing your hands over his shoulders. His hands still lazily sat on your waist and, now, your lower back. 

“Baby, I don’t wanna get into it this morning,” he matched your tone while slowly rubbing your lower back. You sighed before rolling off of him. Logan groaned due to the loss of contact. “What? C’mon, sweetheart.” He reached for you, but you swatted at his hand. 

You faced Logan, sitting criss-crossed on the bed. “Then when? When can we get into it? This afternoon? This evening? At least before you leave again tonight?” You knew you were tuned up just from our own thoughts at night. You had played this conversation over and over again in the head last night.

To your misfortune, unlike your surprise, it wasn’t going how you had wanted.

He wiped his face with a groan before crossing his arms. “I work. I get paid.”

“Doing what?”

Logan’s face was now firm as was yours. Every ounce of romance had been replaced with tension, but your question hung in the air like a cloud threatening rain.

“I told you, I—”

“Don’t want me to know you like that,” you finished, “but I want to know you, Logan. All of you! You’re my boyfriend and my favorite person to be with, and I don’t even know what you do for work! Doesn’t that sound a little ridiculous?” your voice was slightly raised, your tone short. You were digging your heels in.

But so was Logan.

“Wade gets us jobs; they’re all different. Do you want me to detail every still job I’ve ever done?” his voice was raised slightly higher. “You don’t trust me or something?”

You rolled your eyes before completing getting off the bed, “I trust you to be you and trust that you’re trying to sell me some version of the truth in order to make me feel better or at least shut me up. And I know it’s because you care, Lo. I can only imagine what you’re doing, there’s literally bloody towels in the bathroom, for Christ sake! More than I’ve ever seen. But I wouldn’t have to imagine if you just talked to me! I want you to trust me enough to talk to me, confide in me,” you felt like you were begging; you ought to be on your knees at this point.

“Well, if I need ya, I’ll let ya know.” As soon as the words whipped off his lips, he regretted it. You huffed, frustrated tears quickly brimming your eyes. Logan immediately got up, but you were already heading toward the bathroom. “Look, baby, I’m sorry,” Logan was able to catch your arm. You immediately pulled it away and turned to face him. Despite your best efforts to hold in your tears, one broke away.

“I want to love you so bad, Logan, so fucking bad, but you make it so goddamn hard sometimes.” You didn’t even want to wait for his response. You stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door in Logan’s dejected face. He wanted to follow you, but it would only make things worse.  All he could do is listen to your back slide down the door while soft sobs left your lips.

You wish you could’ve stormed out of the apartment, not face Logan for the rest of the day. You ended up taking a shower, mainly because you needed one, but also to drown out any remaining frustrated, tearful sniffles. You knew Logan could hear you before, but you meant what you said.

Despite you wanting to love him with everything you had, how could you if he continuously kept you at an emotional arm’s length? 

Although you never wanted to push him, getting Logan to open up by any degree was like pulling teeth. When it came to his past, you didn’t expect him to tell you everything overnight. It was obviously painful; some nights, he was still plagued with nightmares. But every time you soothed him after a nightmare,  with every comforting hand kiss, you thought Logan was learning to trust you, finding comfort in you. 

But if you didn’t have trust, you weren’t sure what the two of you had. Maybe you weren’t ready to admit that to yourself.

The comforting warmth of the shower was running cold now. After hopping out, you slowly moved into Logan’s room. He wasn’t there but the bed was made. You got yourself dressed but stopped and wondered if it would be best just to pack your things. Maybe it’d be better to stay with a friend for a while. For now, you just needed to leave.

You could hear Logan rattling on the other side of the door. You began dreading the imminent conflict. If it wasn’t going to be confrontational, it was at least going to be awkward. After throwing on some jeans and a black t-shirt, you took a breath before opening the creaky door.

You didn’t immediately see Logan, only the empty living room. You walked out toward the door, but his voice calling your name stopped you dead in your tracks. The call was soft; nevertheless, he called for you as if he had been nervously preparing for your arrival. You turned toward the kitchen to see Logan, also in jeans and a t-shirt. He had two large coffees in front of him and a white paper bag.

“Are you trying to bribe me into staying,” you asked lowly, but Logan could sense the hint of humor in your voice. 

“More like a bribe to get you to talk to me, again, “ he lifted one of the coffees toward you with a nervous chuckle, “well, me talk, you listen. But if you still wanna leave…I won’t stop you either.”

You nodded with a mumbled okay before moving to the coach. Logan silently joined you, handing you both the coffee and the bag. You took a peek into the bag to see two cinnamon muffin tops— your favorite. You took a sip of the coffee. Sure enough, that was perfect too. You placed the bag and coffee along with Logan’s on the table for the time being.

“You have my attention,” you slightly smiled. A part of you wished you could stay mad at him for longer. 

Logan smiled too as if he could breathe a little better. A part of him wished he could stand you being upset with him, even just a little bit.

You both sat silently for a moment, waiting for the other.  Logan leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees and rubbing his palms. After seeing him take multiple short deep breaths, you realized what you were witnessing.

Logan was nervous. 

You had only seen Logan nervous on one other occasion. When he picked you up for your first date, he didn’t realize that the camera in front of your apartment door activated when someone approached it. You watched him run the same routine from the breathing to the palm rub.

“Look, I’m not good at this,” Logan began, “Not just the talking bits but making the right choices like what I tell, what I don’t tell you— how much versus how little. Because the last thing I want is to scare you off and lose you. But this morning, for a second, that’s what I saw happening.”

You stayed quiet, not wanting to interrupt what probably was a conversation Logan ran through his head multiple times over this morning. Instead, you provided a reassuring smile.

Logan leaned back onto the couch with his arms crossed, “So, what do you wanna know? Whatever you wanna know, I’ll tell ya.”

Despite having questions running through your mind multiple times over for the past few nights, your mind drew a quick blank. You took a quick sip of your coffee, hoping the caffeine would guide your mind a little better.

“You say that Wade gets both of you these jobs. Typically, what are the jobs?” you asked, leaning back onto the couch with him.

Logan cocked his head back, staring at the moving ceiling fan instead of you. “They really can be anything. Everyone’s got problems. We don’t accept every job. Still, it can be small like scaring off an intense ex for a girl to something not so small like uh, taking down a trafficking ring. The one with the ex, no one gets hurt; it really doesn’t take much to scare punks like that, y’know? The other? It can get…messy.”

You nodded and leaned back with him, turning to face him instead of the fan, “And last night?”

He took a deep sigh and shook his head. The room fell silent again for a beat too long. The question obviously hit a sour spot in him; it probably hit worse when he was unexpectedly asked this morning.

Your hand snaked down to your side. You wrapped your hand over Logan’s, rubbing your thumb over the very visible veins. His head tilted to the side to meet your soft stare with another reassuring smile.

“If it’s too much right now, Lo, w—”

“You know that there are actual mutant trafficking rings?” Logan bluntly asked you. Your reassuring smile lessened; Logan could read the concern all over your face as your hand gripped his. 

“Not just adults but kids. We got this job to bring this mutant kid back to his parents. The money seemed like a lot upfront but hey, if I had a kid, I’d do anything to make sure they were okay. But when we found this kid, what he told me and Wade…the kid showed us where they’d really take him, not the bullshit address we were told to bring him. All these kids…” His eyes closed as the memories flashed before him. His jaw was clenched, his hand fisted under yours. Your sympathetic hand moved up his forearm, hoping to soothe his thoughts. Once Logan's eyes opened again, your gaze was still on him. Logan found himself a little more grounded not only by your touch but your eyes— eyes that never had to see the horrors that he had but were understanding, nonetheless. His fist relaxed back into an open hand. 

“I think I just lost it. We got ‘em all out, but everyone else there, the guy that hired us? I killed them. Not me and Wade; just me. I saw a version of myself, one I haven't seen in years.” Although Logan had admitted to details about his life, situations that he had found himself in, you couldn’t remember a time that he was so blatant about his actions. There were no assumptions to be made this time; just the truth. And it was clear that sitting with the truth was hard for Logan. Whether it was the action itself or admitting that he alone committed a slaughter, his continuously clenched jaw was proof of the struggle to discuss it.

“And you deserve to know the type of guy you’re with, sweetheart.”

You furrowed your browline and removed your hand from his, placing it on his cheek. Reactionarily, he leaned into your touch. This didn’t stop him from still scanning your face for any hint of hesitation, disgust, horror— perhaps originate to your plan of leaving. He didn’t find any of that.

“I do, it’s all I wanted to know,” you sighed, slowly caressing his jaw. “And I got the best guy, no question.” You softly kissed his cheek, a small smile crept on Logan’s face, but part of him didn’t believe you. As much as you meant it, he struggled with believing it himself. 

“I’ve hurt more people than I can count, sweetheart.”

“I know,” you sat up next to him, slightly leaning over him, “but I also like to think that you have helped more people than you’ll ever realize.”

You pressed a small kiss to his lips before lifting up one of his hands, “And these,” you pressed two kisses around the knuckles like this morning, “they’ve also helped more people than they’ve hurt…and on occasion, the hands themselves have been know make a girl feel good.” You received a genuine, deep laugh from him only causing you to laugh as well.

Again, it fell silent. This silence was comforting. You kept his hand in yours again as you gazed upon your gruff man. His face was now more relaxed and soft. You’d swear that you had memorized every detail of his visage in the months you had been together. You hadn’t even realized that Logan was studying you as well.

You lightly lifted the peaks of his hair before tracing his hairline, “You’re a good guy, Logan. Complicated but good.” Your lips shortly met his for the second time that day, this time with no alternative motive or your mind racing— just Logan’s slow lips against yours.

The coffee and pastries on the coffee table were long forgotten, both warming and cooling to the same temperature. Reminiscent of earlier, your legs hugged his bulky thighs as you straddled him. His hand traveled from your lower back to the tops of your thighs, wishing you had opted out of putting on jeans for the day. You gripped his shoulders for balance, but it was hard not to have at least one hand travel to his solid chest. Even the slightest movement felt nothing short of perfect to Logan. A throaty moan escaped his lips but was quickly drowned out by your own moan.

“Logan,” you muttered against his lips, your words almost being drowned out as well. He positively hummed in response. You paused for a beat. You lifted Logan’s chin with your fingers, effectively removing his lips from yours. His uncertain eyes looked into yours as he was sure he was about to be teased again today.

“I love you,” you whispered as if it was a secret between the two of you. On the contrary, you would love to scream it to the world, too. Logan was taken aback.

He didn’t think it would take three simple words strung into one of the most common phrases to put him at a loss for words. It wasn’t the words that left him awestruck— it was the woman saying them.

You.

Logan knew he could be abrasive, cold, distant, frustrating. Regardless of his best efforts, you saw those sides of him, especially in the beginning of you knowing him. Like today, those traits he tried to deeply bury when with you would rear their ugly heads at times. 

When that would happen, Logan would give you the same spiel, along the lines of ‘I’d understand if you wanted to end things’ or ‘You deserve some who…’ . Not because he didn’t want you; you’d become everything to him in such a short amount of time. He just wanted you to be sure.

Despite those conversations, you didn’t leave. Despite Logan’s fears that you’d wake up one day and realize you were making the worst decision by being with him, you straddled his lap, hands rubbing his shoulders, and telling him that you loved him. 

Him.

It wasn’t until now that Logan realized that he was probably staring at you like a dumbfounded idiot for way too long. You sat up a little straighter, the shame of rejection started to creep into your mind. You offered a soft smile anyway.

“You don’t have to say it back, but you should know. Even when you don’t, I love you, all of you.”

Logan couldn’t even stand the fact that you thought, even for a second, that he didn’t feel the same. He caressed your cheek before quickly pulling you into a passionate kiss that sent a chill down your spine and to your core. Even if he didn’t say it, you could feel it in the kiss. The slowed down tempo was different as if Logan was savoring both the moment and taste of your lips. You slightly pulled his t-shirt, pulling him a little deeper.

His hands traveled down your back until they were spread across your ass. You couldn’t help but to grind your hips against his growing cock. You tugged his shirt upward, feeling Logan’s broad, haired chest. With a short separation, you lifted his and your tops, forgoing your bra as well, tossing them in a direction you paid no mind to at the time. With your bare chests pressed together, your lips joined again. Logan guided your hips against his. Each snap of your hips made the strain on his jeans tighter, increasing the contact with your clit. Your hips, your moans— they danced with each other in harmony.

With a quick hoist, Logan lifted you with his stance, his hands more firmly on your ass. Your legs instinctually wrapped around his waist while gripping his shoulders. Your laughing lips vibrated against his. 

Logan mumbled something against your lips that you can’t quite seem to make out. It was short, maybe your name. You break away from his lips, his forehead resting on yours. Before you could tease him as planned, Logan planted one more kiss on your lips.

“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, baby. Y’know that?” Logan whispered, his lips dangerously close to yours. This felt like a secret of his own— one that made your heart flutter, and more surprisingly, your panties soaked. 

“It’s not just the fact that I’m a topless girl that you have by ass right now making you say that?” you teased with a hand running through the back of his hair.

“Doesn’t hurt,” he huff looking down at your exposed chest, nodding to himself. Smart ass. You playfully snorted before slightly tugging at his roots causing Logan’s eyes to roll back with a groan. Slight pain, all pleasure. Your lips were immediately attached again.

A mix of messy open mouth kisses and moans had you both feeling like teenagers as Logan moved you both to his bedroom. The creaky door to the room bounced off your back. Logan was quick to gently lay you onto the center of the bed but even quicker to join you, his knee pressed between your legs. With his lips attached to your neck, hands palming your breasts, and the slight pressure to your pulsing cunt, you whimpered. You scooted yourself further onto Logan’s thigh, temporarily satisfying the ache between your legs with a slow grind. You were cursing the denim the both of you were wearing. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” Logan warned against your warmed skin. He peppered kisses from your neck to your collarbone to the tops of your breasts, nipping your skin along the way. His flattened tongue dragged down to your nipple, wetting and flicking his tongue against it. He paid the same attention to your other breast, alternating between both. “Hmm, so goddamn beautiful,” he breathed between your wetted mounds

You were a whimpering mess as you watched him, arching into his touch. You still couldn’t help but to ride his thigh, the denim hitting your clit just right. You let your head fall back onto the mattress, taking in every sensation. Your hands choose to grasp the flexing muscles of his back, riding his thigh a little less than haphazardly.

Logan’s attention moved away from your chest when he began to notice you trying to get yourself off again. He moved further off the bed, causing you to lose the desired contact with his thigh. Your head shot up with a groan only to see Logan undoing your jeans.

Logan shook his head as if he was scolding you. “If you’re even thinking about coming,” two fingers on either side rimmed the waistband of your jeans and underwear. The slowness of his action only grew your impatience and neediness, “I wanna feel it all, baby.” 

He was slow to pull down your jeans, knowing the pace was agonizing, knowing your pussy was pulsing with anticipation. Your breathing was ragged, your mind foggy. You quickly shuffle your jeans past your ass, keeping your legs lifted, but Logan only wanted to tease you and watch you wither.

“Baby, please, I need you.” It felt like your whines were falling on deaf ears as Logan was admiring each inch of your newly exposed skin from your stomach to your hips to your thighs. Wet kisses were placed on each area, inching closer to where you needed him most. You couldn’t even focus on the dirty whispers he lied behind each mark.

It wasn’t until your jeans slid down toward your knees that you felt Logan’s grip on your thighs ever so tightened, his breathing becoming uneven, and a throaty ‘fuckin’ christ’ escape his lips. He could smell the sweet scent of your arousal on your cunt ever since you were grinding on his cock on the couch, but with every barrier surrendered and centimeters from his face, every primal instinct in his body came alive. 

Logan made quick work of removing both your jeans and underwear, to your surprise and pleasure. “The sweetest fuckin’ thing, I swear.” It came off like a growl from his lips as he hiked both of your legs over his shoulders.

Before another begged whimper could leave  your lips, Logan’s tongue was desperately lapping up the wetness from your slick core just for it to remplish with the same speed. There was no sweeter taste in the world to him. 

Your volume was lost on yourself. His neighbors would just have to understand. The brief contact had you embarrassingly close to your climax already, and it sounded like it.

With his lips on your clit, you felt his index finger slick up against your folds before plunging into your soaking heat. Logan’s lust-filled eyes made contact with your needy ones. Without even thrusting his finger, just like his thigh, your hips grinded against his finger. You were practically begging him for another digit. 

He hummed against your clit, the vibration sending shockwaves to your core, “That’s it, baby,” With the addition of his middle finger, the pace of your grind quickened, riding Logan’s fingers and tongue, “show me how bad you want it.”

“Bad…I need you so bad, baby,” you cried, feeling you were mere seconds from bursting like a dam. Your juices were streaming onto Logan’s fingers and into his palm as you gripped around his fingers; the dam was already burst at the seams, “S’close, baby.”

Logan already knew, allowing his fingers and tongue to get you off exactly how you needed now.

“S’fucking pretty when you’re drippin’ all over me,” Logan muttered between licks, curling his fingers to reach your spot, “Give it to me, baby.”

That was all you needed before you felt the dam burst. Your hands were all throughout Logan’s hair, bracing yourself. Your road Logan’s fingers through your high, knowing you were making a mess all over his hand and mouth. A mix of profanities and his name fell from your lips like prayers— prayers that had finally been answered as you came down from your high. Your knees relaxed over Logan’s shoulders, letting your legs fall to his sides. You came out of your daze to see Logan sucking the remnants of your orgasm from his fingers, the visual made your pussy pulse again.

“Don’t worry about the mess,” Logan jested before planting a kiss to the inside of your thigh. He stood up from the bed, reaching for his belt; you could tell his cock was aching.

Feeling your second wind, you sat on your knees on the bed, reaching for Logan’s belt as well. Always more than willing— really loving— to return the favor, Logan knew exactly what he needed. Yet, he let you work.

You looked up at him through your lashes, undoing his belt, button, and zipper anyway. Your hand brushed over her constrained cock, earning a moan from Logan. He softly gripped your wrist, your innocent-looking eyes still gazing upon him. By the tilt of your head, he knew that you knew what you were doing; you always did. It still made his cock twitch.

A smirk crept on your face as you rolled your wrist out of Logan’s hand, “Then you tell me what you want, Lo,” you softly spoke, running your hands on his chest and pressing a kiss between his pecs.

He lifted your chin, capturing your lips into his, “I think you can taste what I want,” Logan muttered against your lips. You definitely could. You pulled him closer by cupping his cheeks, feeling remnants of your juices bedded in his beard. 

The ache between your legs returned. At this point, it felt greedy to want Logan this bad after the intense finish you just had. 

Your lips never left his as Logan finished pulling off his jeans and briefs. It took more than willpower not to reach for his cock, knowing it was already leaking with pre-cum.

“Lay back, sweetheart.” You were quick to comply, but Logan was quicker to join you. Before you could even fully position yourself, Logan’s face was in the crook of your neck, leaving marks he’d probably pepper sweet kisses on later. He propped your legs for you, his cock slightly grazing your folds. Felt like he was at heaven’s gates.

He wetted his cock on your slicked cunt, running against your clit. Your knees fell to your sides, opening yourself further to him. Your breath hitched in your throat before bracing yourself, arms wrapped around Logan’s back. He removed himself from your neck. If there was one thing Logan needed to see, it was seeing every part of your face fall into pleasure when he slid in you.

“I know, baby, I know,” Logan cooed before slowly beginning to slip into you. No matter how many times you felt his cock inside you, it felt like he was splitting you like a log. Yet, it was the sweetest sensation. No matter how much you tried to relax, you would immediately start gripping around Logan’s thick cock. 

“Holy fuck, Lo,” you gasped as your nails dug into his skin. You wished you could see those marks, but already, they were simply a memory.

As he bottomed out, Logan’s lips met yours again in another searing kiss. He could fully appreciate the pulsing of your velvet cunt, just warming him. For you, the feeling of being stuffed to the brim? You were bound to make another mess.  

Slow and steady, Logan began thrusting into you. Every inch of your body responded, particularly your hips that began to find a groove with Logan’s. With your eyes closed, you felt like you were blindfolded with pleasure. Your ragged breathing, soft moans— they were music to Logan.

Only dressed by the morning sunlight streaming through the window, you were a vision to Logan in this moment. Your mouth gaped, never finding the words that were so clearly written all over your face. Your hair was disheveled all over his pillows— the pillows you insisted Logan needed when he finally got his own place. 

His hand steadily moved up your abdomen, smoothing over the valleys of your breasts. Logan had been inches deep in you more times than he could count. But today, he never felt closer.

“Look at me, baby,” he lowly grunted, his hand caressing your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open again, met with a smirk of a man who knew he had you hooked, “I need to see you.” 

Like a reward, his hips snapped a little deeper, hitting your spot just right. “Oh my god,” you cried out with an arched back. Logan placed a supportive hand onto the middle of your back, making you sit on your legs and lifting you up to his chest. His hungry eyes met your lust-blown ones. You felt weightless as he dipped you on his cock. You gripped his shoulders, taking control of your bounce.

“Fucking made for me, baby.” he groaned, watching you practically bounce on his cock, quickening the tempo. With his other hand on your back, the other gripped your hip. “Take me so goddamn well.”

You were running like a faucet, feeling your own arousal run down your thigh. You savored every inch of his cock as Logan pumped into you, feeling that familiar pit in your core grow.

Logan could feel you tighten around him, chasing your own finish, “Fuck, sweetheart, if keep doing that, I won’t last too long.”

You wrapped your arm around his neck, nodding with a breathless smile, “I’m counting on it.” 

That’s all Logan needed to hear. With a long growl, Logan removed his hand from your hip to ass, taking control of your movements. Your other hand reached for your clit. The pressure on your clit combined with the rhythmic plunges of Logan's cock was sinfully over stimulating. Your mind was hazy, your legs were beginning to tremble.

Logan was not far behind you, his thrusts becoming sloppy and moans hard to contain. “C’mon, baby, love seeing you come all over my cock. Fuck, I just love you, baby. Always you.”

Both of you were done for. A few final pumps later, the last deep in your cunt, you unraveled all over Logan’s cock, locking in the ropes of cum currently painting your walls. It took everything in Logan to not have his claws unsheathed themselves but coming with you that close to him was worth it. With every pulse, you knew you were milking every drop. You practically collapsed onto his chest, the ache between your legs officially satisfied. 

Panting was the only sound filling the old bedroom. Logan was still buried deep in you. You knew if you didn’t move soon, he’d be rock hard again. It was hard to leave the moment though. Compared to the early events of this morning, this was bliss.

You felt Logan softly press kisses on your shoulder as you leaned against him. You smiled, pulling yourself up to meet his softened stare. You caught a quick kiss from your man before pulling him off. You both sighed at the loss of contact. 

You pulled the navy blue blanket— another item you told Logan he just needed to have in his room— off the end of the bed, wrapping yourself in it. With a mouthed c’mere, you pulled Logan down to lay with you. You covered the both of you as you made yourself comfortable. 

“I need you,” Logan sighed as you placed your  arm and head on his hard chest. 

You huffed and giggled in disbelief, looking up at him, “Again? I’m gonna need a minute…or 30.”

“No, no,” he chuckled. It wasn’t the worst idea though, Logan thought. “Earlier, I said that if I needed you, I’d let you know. And…I need you.”

Your lips tugged into another smile as you rub his chest, “I need you, too. And when you leave, I know you’ll physically be fine, but here?” Two of your fingers pressed between his brows, causing him to furrow them, “Sometimes you get stuck in there, and I don’t want to lose you, in any way.”

It never occurred to Logan that you could have the same fears he had.

“You won’t, sweetheart,” Logan pulled you closer, planting a chaste kiss to your forehead, “You won’t because I do love you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, sending vibrations through Logan’s chest. His head tilted with narrowed eyes.

“You have a real nice habit of telling me that when I’m naked.”

“Put something on, and I’ll tell you again.”

You both were laughing now. The sounds of your laughter were soon joined with the ringing and vibrating of Logan’s phone from the floor in his jeans. Besides you, Wade was the only other person who had Logan’s number. It was comical to you how annoyed he could get by a simple call from someone you knew he considered a friend; Logan wouldn’t admit though.

You began reaching for his jeans on the floor, stealing his vibrating phone from the back pocket.

“C’mon, I’m sure he wants nothing,” Logan grunted as he sat up. He grabbed your arm to stop you and the blanket from falling off the bed. When he pulled you back up, you sat up with him and were already answering the phone.

“Then he can bother me with it,” you smiled at Logan before raising the phone to your ear. “Morning, Wade!”

“Oh, it’s Mr. Wilson if you’re nasty,” he quipped. Logan rolled his eyes as you chuckled, “And what a pleasure to be greeted in a way I won’t have to tell my therapist about. Is the hairy guy around?”

You looked up at Logan with a small smile, “He’s actually a little preoccupied at the moment.” Logan laid on his forehead on your shoulder, muttering a soft thank you. “Can I take a message?”

“Nothing crazy, just a little bit of work I think he’d be interested in.” You looked over at Logan again. It was clear he could hear Wade as well as his head shot up from your shoulder. “But you tell him that there’s no shame in you being the breadwinner in that relationship; he’d make a great trophy wife. Really has the tits for it.”

“Couldn’t agree more, but uh, let me see if I can get him,” you muttered before muting the phone. “It’s work,” you jested.

Logan gave you a small smile before running his large hands over his face, preparing himself for the impending conversation with Wade. You handed him the phone but not before placing a kiss on his cheek. You rolled off the bed, only leaving Logan under the blanket. Vocalizing a loud groan from his chest, he’d prefer watching his girl get dressed than talk with a man who was currently whistling the Jeopardy! think song.  

With your underwear on, as you pulled up your jeans, you shot a playful look at Logan who was clearly just ogling you at this point, “Talk to him!”

Annoyed, Logan immediately took Wade off of mute, “What?” his tone was a 180 compared to a few minutes ago.

You smiled as you left the room to find the rest of your clothing and finally eat something. You didn’t hear much coming out of Logan. You assumed he was just listening to whatever ‘work details’ Wade had. 

After slipping all your clothes back on, you delved into the muffin tops you had neglected this morning. You didn’t know how hungry you were until you took a bite of your favorite pastry. It was enough to make your eyes roll. 

With your coffee, a pastry, and Logan’s shirt, you leaned against the counter, on your phone. Truthfully, you were listening in on what Logan was saying, but he was a man of few words in the conversation. Most of his words were ones of confirmation and insults hurled at Wade.

The only thing you heard that truly mattered to you was what he said at the end, “Yeah, see you in 20.”

You heard Logan shift off the bed and grab his jeans, preparing to leave again despite only being home for about 5 hours. Although you were in a better place than you were earlier in the morning, it still made you a little sad to know that he was leaving again so soon. It would’ve been nice to have the morning together.

Logan called for you as he exited out of the bedroom. It was your turn to ogle him as your shirtless man adjusted his belt before turning toward you. He smirked when he saw you because you weren’t being very subtle. You dangled his shirt in the air.

“I’ll be back in like an hour or two,” Logan told you as he took his shirt back, swiftly throwing it on. You straightened out the wrinkles on it, but you both knew it was just an excuse to have your hands on him.

Logan wasn’t complaining. It gave him an excuse to place his hands around your waist.

“This mom— her ex is getting out of prison today, and she thinks he could use a, uh, reminder to not come around anymore.”

You nodded, picking a piece of lint off his shoulder, “I imagine you’re scarier than any restraining order,” you joked.

He huffed with a chuckle, “Probably.” Logan had to admit that this felt a whole hell of a lot better than sneaking out of the apartment, vaguely stating that he’ll be back. It was definitely better seeing your smile up at him than with disappointment.

“And now you have all your clothes on,” he teased, pulling you closer to him. You rolled your eyes, but you could feel your cheeks reddening, “I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too, Lo,” you smiled before pulling him down into a kiss. It was supposed to be quick, but Logan couldn’t help deepening the kiss. You smiled into the kiss, amused by how those 3 words seemed to really get Logan going.

“Someone out there needs you, babe,” you muttered against his lips before pulling away. “Now, go be the man I know you are.”

He smiled before leaving a kiss on your forehead, “Yes ma’am.”

The goodbye was quick; you knew he’d be back sooner rather than later. But you were right: you had the best guy, no question.

note: the inbox is always open for requests♡

[siffrins-therapist]

👾censoredmandibiles Follow

OK time to settle something

EDIT: this post WAY ended up breaking containment. GO CLUTCH YOUR PEARLS ELSEWHERE

🦑tentacleovi Follow

YO FREE BLOCKLIST IN THE NOTES HOLY SHIT

#RIP OP's notifs #i don't go here but i suggest making popcorn before diving into those notes #some of it is puritan bs you'd expect #some of it is discourse i never even knew existed

41.6K Notes

🕷️friendofcharlotte

I think a painting my friend got at a thrift store was painted by Mr. Italy Veneziano? Is there a way to authenticate it? Google isn't helping.

⭐wishonadeadstar Follow

Try here. Turns out my nan's portrait of her farmhouse was originally painted by Mr. Romano when he was living in NY during the 1920's.

🕷️friendofcharlotte

THANK YOU

8 Notes

📽️bisexuallightinggoggles Follow

hey yo so the US rep put like 100 hours into playing that game Spiritfarer just this week... anyone want to go check on the guy??

💿newagepirate Follow

There are literally government workers who's literal job it is to check on him

⛰️lesbianmothernature Follow

how tf do you know he put 100 hours into playing a game anyway????

📽️bisexuallightinggoggles Follow

We're friends on Steam. He adds like everyone who asks.

And for everyone in the notes asking what Spiritfarer is it's one of those cozy simulator games here's the trailer.

#isn't the 'deathiversary' of his friend Davie this week? #i'm definitely not the first person to think of that #okay looking at the notes was a mistake #like i'm not one of those ppl who puts #'DNI if your username makes fun of davies death' but #immortal or not #even if it happend centuries ago #you can still be sad your FUCKING FRIEND DIED

12.3k Notes

🥾hikingawayfrommyfeelings Follow

So if I become a citizen of Ladonia can he just... visit me through my computer?

🦝trashypanda Follow

He gets mad when you summon him :(

🦘callmejoeythewayi Follow

"summon him" Like a fucking demon?

🫒shrekbignaturals Follow

We are NOT rehashing that old discourse.

🎱magic8saveme Follow

Oh god I just revived my blog after escaping x/twitter and last time I saw that disk hoarse, my dash was just post after post of this for DAYS

🪄magictrio-dropout

#was there actual discourse about whether the nation-people were demons? #cuz the discourse i saw on my dash was #whether tales of things like demons vampires and #other immortal or 'came back to life' creatures #were born from when the nation-people resurrecting #or like #doing creepy stuff

IDK about tumblr or the first bit (I've personally never heard that at least not from anyone being serious) but the other stuff has been debated in academia for decades! One of my literature professors is ADAMANT that the vampire myth can be traced to old folklore about the reps and them reviving and possibly the blood-drinking comes from an evolution of the myth when before, old stories talked about blood soaking the earth where vampires rose. If anyone's interested, here's where you can find my professor's paper about it.

🎃warongayxmas

So like. *grabs a bat and slowly approaches a hornet's nest* Then does the Jesus story have the same roots then?

🫒shrekbignaturals Follow

WE 👏 ARE 👏 NOT 👏 RE 👏 HASHING 👏 THAT 👏 DISCOURSE👏

🥾hikingawayfrommyfeelings Follow

Wtf happened to my post???

#so did OP become a Ladonian citizen or what?

187.4k Notes

🐦‍pinchforawish Follow

MY DAD GOT TO SEE MR ENGLAND LIVE BACK WHEN HE WAS IN A PUNK BAND

🐦‍pinchforawish Follow

TUMBLR WTF HOW TF DOES THIS VIOLATE GUIDELINES

🏴dinotonugget-deactivated

Finally. Proof that the site runs so shittily bc Mr. Eyebrows works for staff

🫎moosecrossing Follow

Spoke the truth and got fucking killed for it

67.9 Notes

[milksuu]

❝ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ❞ ─── ☾⏺☽

pairing: yandere!aphelios x solari!priestess!reader (LoL)

warning: non/con, fem!reader, possessive/obsessive behavior, mentions of blood/violence, religious/fanatical behavior, unhealthy coping mechanisms, minor drug use, implied kidnapping, implied forced relationship, semi-public sex, unbalanced power dynamic, runeterra au

notes: sorry besties, he's a 10 but he's bat shit insane. (so an 11) also any mention of 'her' is the moon goddess, not alune. (we're leaving that sweet summer child out of this.) and for those who aren't aware, phel can speak when not under the influence of noctum, but unable to communicate with alune, which is uh...great in this case. (also not me wanting to write a second part like how why help?)

You never thought you’d stare into the pale visage of the Lunari man the village whispered about.

The one with a vacant face but deadly occupation. Your naïve belief in your own safe keeping was nothing more than an illusion. The sun always faded below the misted cliffs, only for the moon to take its place above the mountain’s highest peak. An endless cycle of hierarchical dominance that rinsed itself in blood and repeated in constant turmoil. Tonight would be no different.

“Don’t come any closer.”

A failed attempt to embolden your voice beyond a meek plea. You stiffened at the thunderous closing of the temple door. A clambering echo vibrated through the marble floor and pillars, past the rows of worship, up to where you stood at the crest of the ceremonial altar. The remaining resonance rattled and sang up your spine, shaking the candle light pinched between your fingertips. 

The figure sauntered forward, stepping into the drapes of moonshine filtering from the glass atrium above. Before you stood a deadly beauty; a handsome face rapt with enticing secrets. With a painted crescent that mocked your own solar marking of gold. His lips were a perfect horizontal line, and it was difficult to imagine the ability they possessed beyond lethal silence. His hallowed expression screamed danger—but there was no running away—not when the black abyss of his eyes invited you to stay.

 Not as a guest, but as his permanent resident.

“I’m warning you. Take one more step, and I’ll scream. The guards will come and they won’t hesitate to kill you—”

Your voice went taut inside your throat. Your breath sewn shut against your lungs. The weapon he carried listless at his side drenched itself in various hues of red. Fresh enough to steam in wisps around the sharpest point of the blade.

He stalked forward. The clack of his predetermined steps quickening the pace of your heart. When he stood at arms length, you felt the coldest touch of night. The veins layered beneath your skin pounded, flooding every inch of you with mortal dread. It was sickening to think the flush of your flesh would only make the spill of it all the better. The ‘Weapon of The Faithful’—titled by his own blasphemous people—spoke true. His name…you wished you could cleanse it from existence.

“Aphelios.” You damned the name like a plague upon all of Mount Targon. “Murderer. Blight. Heretic!” 

You jabbed and swung your candlelight in a pitiful attempt to create distance. His free hand quipped against it, sending it clambering to the ground, banishing the flame to the surrounding night. Creating a hazier veil of darkness where there was only one true light—his moon.

Out of sheer disdain, you attempted to slap his face in recoil. His unarmed hand caught you by the wrist, remaining still as you struggled to free yourself from his trained grasp. With force, he pried your hand open, palm exposed. He brought the skin of it to his stiff lips. Unmoving, he lingered there. His lashes fluttered closed; taking a moment of peace, a moment of prayer. 

A moment for sanctum. 

His eyes then winged opened, boring into you, through you. Body, bone and soul. And all you could do was tremble within them. Sinking without escape into those black depths of…nothing. 

In one swift motion, he brought the blade upwards, slicing through the thin linen of your garments. In a precise vertical line, your gown split into two equal halves. The insignificant barrier between you and him slipped to the ground, splaying like rags at your feet. Your head pounded for you to scream, but your own voice felt lost to you. Knowing it was all meaningless. 

No one would hear you. 

No one would save you.

Weakened by the surmounting despair of it all, if he hadn’t already had a hold on you, your legs would have given to the earth.

“No—“ you choked out, eyes brimming with tears. It must’ve looked pathetic; the way you placed your only free arm across your exposed breasts. As if any decorum of modesty would spare you. “Please—just kill me. Do nothing else but that. I beg of you.”

Your final sob for mercy reached ears that may as well have been carved of stone. He stalked closer, forcing your lower back to meet the mantled altar behind you. He’d sheathed his weapon, and took both of your hands within one tight grasp, in case you had half a mind to oppose him. You dipped your chin, heaving through a prayer with mournful hics and sniffled utterances. His advancing weight forced your trembling legs to part, and slotting himself between, created a space where your faith could never exist. 

You didn’t want to look at him, or rather, you couldn’t. Tears scorched your vision and seared down the round of your cheeks. You flinched when he took your chin, raising your blurry gaze to meet his. In those darkest of pools, something gave. An insignificant speck of light gleaming into a faint existence. His lips moved, but there was no sound. Instead, you traced the words from the bow of his mouth.

‘Forgive me.’

Your heart clenched. Diluted blood spiked with fear drowned your consciousness. It left no room for thoughts to linger; whether or not you imagined even an ounce of sympathy reflected in those sedated eyes. Whether or not you imagined he said anything at all. 

The entire world scattered away when he brought your face closer, and kissed away the tears staining the corners of your eyes. You fought to pull away, but he held firm, both your chin and hands locked in the cage of his fingers. From your cheeks, he skimmed his ghostly lips to your mouth. He muffled your protestive moans by filling up your mouth with all of his tongue. 

He gave you the salt taste of your own tears. That, and the taste of something else. A saccharine flavor with notes of floral and bitter earth. 

A reaction flourished; a slight tingle of your lips at first. It made his tongue feel hotter against yours, as parts of your upper mouth went numb. A stream of lukewarm paralysis seeped past your soft palate, filling every nook and cranny of your mindscape. Yet, the secondary symptoms didn’t stop there. An opposite wave traversed down your throat to your stomach, spilling fire throughout every layer of nerves. You clenched your lashes tight, shuddering a gasp into his open mouth.

When the pain settled into a dull simmer, you wondered briefly, had he felt it too? Had he consumed such a substance by choice? If that was a taste, what pain did he endure if he drank it like an offering of wine?

You didn’t want to imagine the terrible effects it might’ve had on his person. Not if it gave you even a single drop of sympathy. It was revolting enough his saliva was poisoning your pure sense of self. The fog of it sullying your inhibitions, stripping away your layers of moral preservation. To the absolute vitriolic parts of yourself, it made you consider…

What would it be like to be touched?

It was too sick and cruel of a thing to do to you. Since birth, you’d devoted your body and soul to your divine Goddess; The Golden Sister. You wanted to be disgusted by allowing the gift of yourself to become tainted by some awful man. No—he was worse than that. Or any word you could craft and cut the corners of your mouth with. He was, by biblical history, a Lunari man born from the cataclysmic eclipse of two moons. A day that marked the day of reckoning of the Solari faith and your people.

Your clouded senses and busied mouth made you unaware that his hand left your face to trail the mounds and curves of your body. A light touch drifting to your inner thighs. You jolted when a finger graced the sensitive hood of your exposed clit. Your thighs squirmed at his side as you attempted to jerk your knees. It did nothing and stirred nothing from him. Except bolster his conviction, tempting a finger lower, teasing your folds already glistening.

Although light-headed, you ripped your mouth away and nipped at his lip. It sprang forth droplets of blood, enough to taste his iron on your tongue. A trivial satisfaction. 

“May you burn at dawn,” you condemned and spat at his lips.

Unflinching, he withdrew his hand and brushed over the blood mark you left. Sweeping it across his bottom lip, along with your saliva, he rolled the consistency between his fingers in private contemplation. Before he looked you dead in the eyes and stuck his fingers inside his mouth. Sucking and licking till his fingers dripped. Watching sent a lightning strike coiling down your spine.

He loomed his weight forward until your back met the altar mantle. With your palms pinned above your head, and legs coaxed wider. His coated hand repositioned down to your entrance, and you writhed with any strength your body could lend. His hold wrapped around your wrists squeezed, gentle in its reprimand. He leaned down to brush his face at the side of your cheek.

“Please…for your own sake.” 

Your eyes widened at his frayed whispers stringing together. Breathing life into what seemed like an empty shell of a person. The frigid space between his mouth and your ear kindling with the slightest bit of warmth. It was what you feared the most. Forced to accept he was every bit human, with a horrid courtesy to use polite words and a pleasant, sickening tone. More insult to your injury. You wished he hadn’t spoken at all. Letting you believe in your mind that he was more aberration or phantom. Or anything else that carried not a single hint of a beating heart.

“I don’t want to hurt you…not anyone, really.” Again, comforting yet noxious. And it made whatever was inside you throb so terribly. As if he could sense it, he reached for it. His salivated finger split through your folds, sliding into the heat of your cunt. It elicited a drawn out whimper as you felt the sensual brush of it against a bed of tingling nerves. Gradually revealing a hidden desire you hadn’t wanted to gratify him with.

“But you…and your people…need to accept what can’t be denied any longer.” He punctuated his words with each thrust of his finger as it curved into that crescent shape you despised so much. Yet, you couldn’t deny the way it made your most feminine parts unravel at the seams. ”No matter how high your sun rises, my heavenly moon will always eclipse it. And fill the sun with Her beauty for all to see.“

A hitched whine fluttered past your lips as he easily slipped a second finger. While the heel of his palm pressed in circles, spreading your arousal and stimulating your plumping clit. Your cunt unashamedly sucked on his long fingers, encouraging him to mold and form you into what he needed you to be—a conduit for the undying affections of his faith.

“You might not see it, but the divine path has been shown to me. The one that’s led me to you. You can feel it at least, can’t you?” He flexed his digits and plunged a third finger. Deeper than the last, fuller than before. Your hips rolled forward on their own accord, craving every bit of attention from his touch.

With deliverance, you answered the question with a wail and arch of your back. Your whole body washed its nerves in a blinding heat. His fingers curled and flexed at your hungry walls clenching around him. It pushed a gush of sticky fluid from your twitching hole into his circling palm. Coming down from the spasms, you sobbed at the humiliating response of your body. 

“So you do feel it.” There was a hidden sentiment of relief in his otherwise placid delivery. As if he’d purged the last blot of doubt that restrained him. You swallowed a mouthful of whines as his probing fingers continued undulating inside you. “Your body…it’s begging to devour me in all its warmth. And mine, yearning to take all your bright stars and bathe you by moon glow alone. Wanting us—and only us—to become one.” 

Without warning, he emptied you of his fingers, a filthy squelch following with it. You sucked in a gasp at the crippling cold he left you with. But he wouldn’t abandon you for long. Shifting in the dark haze above you, he unsheathed his length from his garments and pressed himself against your sopping cunt. He dragged his fullness against your swollen and slicked folds. He wasn’t even inside you, yet you felt an agonizing cramp fisting in your stomach. 

“By Her orders, by Her design…” he spoke through tight whispers, strained by his own anticipation. Pressing his full weight down, he hovered mere inches above you, panting bouts of aroused breaths against your lips. “Let us Converge.”

You squirmed and bucked underneath him. “Nn…not with you…anyone but—!”

You broke off into a high-pitched cry as he stretched you open, filling you up till he bottomed out, and pressed up to the hilt of his hips. He silenced both of your newly coupled hymns with his mouth, and each lap of his tongue matched the tempo of his generous thrusts. The sharp, intrusive pinch died as quickly as it came—the insignificant remnants of toxin dulling bits and pieces of certain pain receptive nerves. A gift, perhaps, in this instance. He had also prepped you well enough to accept all of his adoration, as intended. Another gift, as someone of his ‘giving’ nature may phrase it.

Pulling away slowly, the tip of his head rubbed graciously against every ridge of your swelling walls, before languidly pushing back, going past where you seemed to end. Beyond your farthest points you hadn’t thought existed. Pressing and rubbing all your soft spots and cervix with careful deliberation.

Then again, and again, and again.

“Can you feel it…my devotion…” he groaned into your open-mouthed kisses, continuing to work himself inside you. You weren’t even sure if he was speaking to you, or through you to his false Goddess. 

His free hand found the round flesh of your breast, rolling your budded nipple delicately between the pad of his thumb and index. The other hand, squeezing at your captured wrists, but never tight enough to bruise. He had you lulling in a spellbinding rhythm underneath him, your hands fastened above your head, and hair spilling over the opposite side of the altar. When his mouth left your full lips, he possessed the nape of your neck, sucking the delicate skin above your life line. Your mewls, laced with the chasteless sounds of his base squelching at your entrance, leapt your pulse to an unreturnable pace.

“So warm,” he moaned low, staving off a growing need to revel in his own whines of ecstasy. “This pure sunlight of yours…I’m blessed to be the one who takes it. And you should be too. What an honor it is to be of service to my moon.”

You wanted to hate everything about it. The way he kissed you, the way he moved inside you—but you couldn’t. Every stiff and engorged part of him pressed almost lovingly against your most vulnerable parts; but that wasn’t the proper word for it. His affectionate caresses were zealous in origin. Not even for you. And boderlined a hedonistic doctrine you couldn’t describe. It would’ve been better if he were a man of barbaric qualities; rough and brutal. Not purposeful and diligent and—dared you admit it—tender. If he were the former, then your disgust could be justified, and your body would refuse him in its own rightful way. But it defied you, the lecherous thing. Insisting you melted beneath him and reduce to nothing but a drenched mess. Completely at the mercy of this Lunari man’s act of worship.

“Are you finally realizing it now? How generous my Goddess is compared to yours.” He abandoned the curve of your throat. Within the flush of his face, his eyes were suppled in absolute vindication at your shameless image. “How willing you are to accept me—to accept Her.”   

“N-No…I’m…not…I won’t,” you pried your tongue for words.

He drawled out a quivering whine from your mouth. His body picking up to an impassioned pace, rutting into your sweltering heat. Tethering on his own abandoned pleasure. Your legs pushed themselves wider, opening yourself up more for him, drawing him deeper to pound against the tender knot growing in your belly. 

Choked moans tightened in his throat. Your radiance gripped him with conviction, burning him so divinely from tip to base. Dragging him closer to your complete consummation. His fingers caught the contour of your face, tilting your head back. Your already swimming eyes rolled to follow, and watered at the sight of your Solari Goddess. Carved out from the temple wall, her sacred marbled gaze met your disgraceful expressions. 

“That’s…hn…alright. You can lie to me. I’ll—we’ll always forgive you. But can you say the same for your deity? As she watches her little sunlight being pleasured by the moon’s devoted weapon. I—ha…doubt it very much.” An airy laugh cut through his thick moans intertwined with yours. He continued, inhaling and exhaling his words, raspy and down right broken. “It’s—almost our time…as reverence…your insides…with all of my…”

You couldn’t refuse the vile implication of his words. Not when his thickened, throbbing cock lapped achingly against your muddled core. Your blood boiled, draining out from your collapsing bodily veins to well up inside your stomach. Applying a pressure that made you want to burst into unmendable fractals of yourself. And you did—that tight knot broke in an instant, dilating your insides in a blaze of heat. Flooding you so wholly, you almost forgot to breathe through your delirious sobs of release. 

When the smooth ridges of your walls clamped down, you heard it first as a moan of afflicted surrender on his part. Then, the cock buried inside you pulsed. A stream of white-hot fluid poured into you, shooting well past your cervix, bathing your womb with his warmth. But he didn’t stop there, continuing to indulge. He pumped and pushed the concoction of unified fluids till it poured past his base, and dripped in milky heaps from your hole. His pelvic and abdominal muscles shuddered as his hips rolled slowly but needingly, nursing himself through his over-stimulating climax.

From your tearful, half-lidded gaze, you witnessed a wet glisten in his own eyes. Whether induced by overwhelming pleasure or pained remorse, you would never know. You didn’t want to know.

It didn't matter.

They evaporated the moment he blinked again.

When the heaves and pants subsided, only the echoes of your whimpers remained. Unfastening his grasp from your wrists, his icy hands cupped your sulking face, idly running his thumbs across your soaked cheeks.

“I understand your pain. Believe me, I do. But no amount of tears will keep the celestial cycle from shifting in the moon’s favor. Like any phase, there will be a moment when you won’t hate me as you do now. You might even come to...love me.”

The way he paused made it seem he had no sense for the word. Or what the difference was between what was love and obsession. The look he possessed didn’t instill solace, either; his eyes mere slits of black against his porcelain face. Promising the moment you dared turn away from him, the back of your neck would bleed.

”I swear to you. From this night on, you’ll burn brightest by my reflection. And only my reflection. So long as there's breath and blood in this body, I’ll protect your sunlight from ever fading in the hands of anyone less deserving than mine. By cosmic fate, you’re my entire purpose, my entire existence...” he bent and kissed the solar marking painted on your forehead. “My orbit.” 

[kentobb]

PRESAGE | CHAPTER THREE

Characters: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Female Reader

Genre: Angst

Warning: Foul Language

The afternoon sun filtered through the large windows of the quiet café, casting long shadows that mingled with the soft murmur of conversations. Ushijima sat opposite to Tendo, his large frame looking almost uncomfortable in the delicate chair beneath him. His brow was furrowed, the intensity of his gaze focused on the steaming cup of coffee in front of him.

Tendo's eyes widened as he leaned closer, the laughter that usually danced in his eyes replaced with a mixture of disbelief and concern. "You're telling me, Ushijima," he began slowly, "that you think her kid looks exactly like you?"

Ushijima nodded solemnly, lifting his gaze to meet Tendo's. "Yes. The eyes, the face, even the hair... It's uncanny."

Tendo shook his head, a chuckle escaping his lips despite the gravity of the conversation. "Look, if her kid was yours, she would've told you. You were pretty close back then."

Ushijima's eyes darkened with frustration. "We were until…” He paused. “I just, those eyes, Tendo. They look exactly like mine. I can't just ignore that."

The gravity of Ushijima's conviction weighed heavy in the air. Tendo sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew his friend's frustration well enough; this was a man who needed answers, not assumptions. "I have never seen the kid before…but… alright.”

The decision made, they found themselves standing outside the restaurant where you worked. The place was bustling, filled with the sounds of clinking glasses and laughter. Through the window, they could see you moving gracefully between tables, unaware of their presence.

"Look at us," Tendo muttered, shaking his head with a wry smile. "Two grown men standing here like stalkers."

Before they could take another step, a familiar voice rang out behind them. "What on earth are you two doing? You? Again? Here?”

Asami stood there, arms crossed and eyes blazing with annoyance. Tendo groaned inwardly. This was going to be good.

"Asami, I should be asking you the same thing. You’re here again, aren’t you the one spying?” he began, but she cut him off.

"I work here you dip shit.”

Tendo threw up his hands in exasperation. "Oh, come on! We’re just trying to—"

"Trying to what? Ruin her life?" Asami shot back. "She doesn’t need this kind of drama."

Ushijima, usually stoic, added, "We just want to talk to her."

"Talk? Is that what you call lurking outside her workplace like a couple of creeps?" Asami's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Tendo leaned in, his eyes sparkling with mischief despite the situation. "You know, Asami, you should try decaf sometime. It's supposed to be good for reducing that stick up your—"

Asami's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Finish that sentence, Tendo. I dare you."

"Alright, enough," Ushijima interjected, his deep voice cutting through the argument like a knife. "We're here for answers, not to fight."

Before any more could be said, a ripple of silence spread from inside the restaurant. You stood by the door, face a mask of shock as you stared at Ushijima.

Five years had passed, but the connection between you two was instant, a palpable force that seemed to electrify the air.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Ushijima and you locked eyes, and the world around them faded away. Your eyes, wide with surprise and a myriad of other emotions, were mirrors of the storm brewing within him. The memories of your time together, the unspoken words, the distance that had grown between them—all of it seemed to hang in the balance.

Ushijima took a step forward, his usually stoic face softening with an expression of pure euphoria. He hadn't seen you in years, but now, in this fleeting moment, nothing else mattered.

"Y-Y/N.” he breathed, her name a whisper of longing on his lips.

Your eyes shimmered with unshed tears as you took in the sight of him. "Ushijima," you replied, your voice trembling.

The tension that had built between Tendo and Asami dissipated in an instant, their argument forgotten as they watched the reunion unfold. There was something profoundly beautiful and bittersweet in the way Ushijima and you looked at each other, as if the years apart had been but a moment, and yet an eternity.

Slowly, you stepped out of the restaurant, your movements hesitant yet resolute. You stopped just a breath away from Ushijima, your eyes searching his for answers, for understanding.

Ushijima reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he touched your cheek, as if to reassure himself that you were real. "I have always wondered how you looked…” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion.

You finally broke the silence, gaze flickering between Ushijima and Asami, "What are you doing here?” You asked, voice steadying.

Ushijima nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Is he mine?”

Your breath hitched, and you looked away, silence speaking volumes. Tendo felt his heart clench in his chest. This was more complicated than any of them had anticipated.

With a deep breath, You turned back to Ushijima, eyes filled with a mix of fear. “No" you whispered. "He's not.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of revelation. "Don’t lie to me" he murmured, his voice breaking, “He looks just like me.”

Tendo and Asami exchanged a glance, their earlier animosity completely forgotten.

“Well, he’s not. And you can leave.” You said as you turned around and walked back inside the restaurant, leaving him speechless.

“I told you to leave her alone.” Asami hissed as she looked at both of them.

Outside the restaurant, the air was thick with tension. Ushijima's face was set in its usual stoic mask, while Tendo's eyebrows were knitted in frustration. Asami, her eyes blazing with determination, stood like a guard dog between them and the door.

"Leave her alone," she demanded, her voice a low growl.

Tendo threw his hands up in exasperation. "Oh, come on, Asami! We're just trying to—"

"Trying to what? Create more chaos? You wanted a closure? That’s your closure. Now leave.”

Before Tendo could retort, a small voice cut through the tension like a knife through butter. "Aunty Asami!"

All eyes turned to see a small boy with a backpack approaching. His dark hair was neatly combed, and his eyes were wide and clear—eerily similar to Ushijima's. His expression was serious, almost stoic, like a miniature version of the volleyball star himself.

"Aunty Asami, can we get ice cream?" the boy asked, his tone dry and devoid of typical childlike enthusiasm.

Tendo's jaw dropped. "Holy... Ushijima, he looks exactly like you!"

Ushijima's eyes widened slightly, a rare display of emotion. He stared at the boy, the reality of the situation hitting him like a freight train.

Asami moved quickly, taking the boy's hand with a protective fierceness. "Come on, let's go inside," she said, her tone softer but still firm.

The boy glanced at Ushijima and Tendo, his expression as blank as ever. "Goodbye" he said, his voice flat and detached.

Tendo blinked rapidly, trying to process the surreal encounter. "Did that kid just—"

"Yeah, he did," Ushijima interrupted, his voice tinged with a rare note of defeat.

As the door closed behind them, the reality of the situation settled in. Ushijima's shoulders slumped, his usual air of confidence replaced by a heavy disappointment.

Tendo, seeing his friend's distress, quickly rallied. "Hey, don't look so down, Ushijima. We've got this."

Ushijima glanced at him, a mixture of hope and skepticism in his eyes. "Do we? This is more complicated than I ever imagined."

Tendo grinned, determined to lift his friend's spirits. "Of course we do! Besides, how hard can it be to win over a kid and a couple of angry women?"

Ushijima raised an eyebrow. "You make it sound so simple."

"Because it is simple!" Tendo exclaimed, throwing an arm around Ushijima's broad shoulders. "We're going to figure this out. First, we'll come up with a plan. Second, we'll avoid Asami until she cools down. And third, we'll make sure she knows you're here for her and your son."

Ushijima managed a small smile, appreciating Tendo's unwavering support. "Thank you, Tendo. But… she says is not mine.”

"Well, you don’t have a twin brother." Tendo replied with a wink. "We know that kid is yours.”

[lulublack90]

Prompt 14 - Voice

@jegulus-microfic April 14, Word count 703

It's happened again. We're having a series. But only for a couple of prompts this time.

First part

“What’s happened to you then? That tall chap was easy on the eyes.” Sirius snickered as he perched on the sofa’s arm next to Regulus’s head and ruffled his curls. 

“Get off you twat!” Regulus pushed his brother’s hand away. He hissed as the movement jolted his ankle. Sirius’s jolly grin turned to concern. 

“Are you hurt? Oh my god, Reggie. What happened?” Before he could explain, James returned with two steaming cups of hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows. Regulus felt his mouth begin to drool. 

“Hi,” James grinned at Sirius. “I’m James.” He held out his hand. Sirius considered it for a second before taking it and giving it a firm shake. 

“Sirius, Regulus’s brother. Do you know how he hurt himself?” Regulus watched as James’s face flushed when he stuttered out an explanation that confused Sirius even more. 

“Wait, what do shrinking trees have to do with Regulus?” Sirius asked cocking his head to the side as he tried to figure out James’s mess of a story. 

“He was on a run he didn’t have any business being on, and he took me out,” Regulus explained. 

“What, like on a date?” Sirius waggled his eyebrows at him. 

“No, as in he’s a buffoon who can’t ski and nearly killed me!” Regulus’s voice rose. A few of the guests in the lobby looked over at the trio. Regulus shuffled down, hiding his face. “Great, thanks for that, Sirius.” He ground his teeth. 

“Hey, don’t blame me. I wasn’t the one screaming.” Sirius was having the time of his life. Regulus had had enough. He put his untouched drink onto the coffee table and tried to stand. He immediately sat down again. This was going to be harder than he thought. Then, those strong arms gathered him up. 

“Which room are you in?” James asked him. His mind had gone blank.

“210,” Sirius answered for him. James turned and walked over to the lift. He shuffled Regulus slightly so he could press the call button and then settled him back against his chest. Regulus still couldn’t think of a good protest. 

James stopped outside Regulus’s room and didn’t move. It took Regulus longer than he cared to admit to figure out he needed the key card. 

Regulus wiggled in James’s arms as he tried to dig his wallet out of his pocket. 

“Damn it, I can’t quite,” He gave up. “Can you put me down for a second?” James carefully put him on his feet against the wall so he had something to lean on. He dug his hand into his snowsuit and pulled it free. 

James wrapped his arm around Regulus’s waist and helped him hop through the door. He stopped, unsure of where he wanted to sit. The bed would probably be best as it was close to the bathroom, and he could prop his ankle up, but he didn’t know how he felt about having a stranger see his bedroom.

“Where’s your bed?” James asked, looking around the room. “Did they only give you a pull-out?”

“What are you on about? The bedrooms through there.” He pointed at his bedroom door. What’s a pull-out?” He asked, bewildered. 

“It’s a sofa that turns into a bed.” James smiled at him. Regulus was about to thank him for his help when he was suddenly in James’s arms again. 

“Why do you keep picking me up!” He cried as he tried to escape. 

“Dr Lupin said you shouldn’t put any weight on it, and this is the easiest way to move you. I’m just doing what a good boyfriend would do.” James smirked at him. Regulus was not impressed. 

“You do know that we’re not boyfriends, right?” Regulus said as James opened his bedroom door. “Right?!” His voice cracked with nerves as James leaned over his bed and dropped him on the soft mattress. 

“Yes, Regulus. I’m not an idiot. We’ve only just met. Anyway,” He said, standing up. “I’ve got the whole week to win you over. No need to rush.” He blew him a kiss as he left the room. Regulus was stunned. He’d never had anyone be that forward with him, and he couldn’t say he wasn’t intrigued. 

Next part

[motherlvr]

okay so idk if you’ve watched gilmore girls but i would love to see a miles morales (earth 42) w a reader who’s like lorelai gilmore (rambles a lot, is very funny/witty, says a lot of obscure pop culture references a lot and teases people a lot lot) idk i feel like the two would have some very silly interactions 😈 (love ur work btw 😘🙏🏼)

this req was so fun to write, tysm for the req! sprinkled in some stuff so she isn't exactly lorelai, but hopefully i did the prompt justice!

wc: 1.6k

pairing: Earth-42! Miles Morales x (lorelai gilmore!) f! reader

warnings: friends with lots of tension, cursing, this has the iconic "will you just stand still?" scene from gilmore girls, possessiveness

-----------

"Lucy, I'm home!" You loudly announced as you swung the door open and let yourself into Miles' dorm. Apparently, both of you were past knocking.

Looking up at you, who had broken into his dorm, he pointed out "You ain't even room here."

"What do you mean? We're like Troy and Annie at this point." Aside from the fact that their relationship was more one-sided and they never ended up together. You were hoping your story would have a different outcome.

Miles was tranquility laying on his bed with his back against the wall before you let yourself into his room. Making yourself at home on his bed with him, you sat next to him. He pulled your legs on top of his and said, “What're you here for, ma?" You thought he sounded like a fellow convict asking you what crime you committed. You stated, "Conspiracy, apparently."

Usually, when you came by, you always wanted to sneak off campus. He was too familiar with you to not know what your intentions were from the minute you stepped in. You couldn't tell if you hated or loved how he could see through you. He narrowed his eyes at you and you defended yourself, "What? I can’t come see my favorite guy? You always think I'm schemin' some diabolical shit."

Shaking his head at you and giving you a small smirk, he asked, "You tryna go out or sum?" "Yeah, bet you'd like that huh." You cheekily teased, suppressing a snort at your own joke.

He already knew why you barged into his dorm, so he said, "Yea, I would. Let's go, ma." He guided you up and you both walked through the door of his room. You had to stifle a giggle as the both of you ran down the hallway and snuck past the security guard. Exiting out of a side door of the dormitory, you both successfully escaped. After all the times you've snuck out together, the route out just became muscle memory.

Walking down the bustling streets of Brooklyn, you felt alive. Holding Miles' arm, you noticed a new bakery had opened up. "Oh, let's go try it out, Miles!" You exclaimed, pulling him along. As Miles opened the door for you, the sweet aroma of newly baked goods filled your senses.

Stepping up to view the large menu that was hung up, you were distracted by all of the options when someone called out your name. It was a worker of the bakery, a friend of yours. Beckoning you over, he greeted you. "I haven't seen you in a hot minute. You look as good as ever." He winked at you. This made Miles' eye twitch subtly. Miles slowly unwrapped your hand that was resting on his arm and set his arm on your waist instead. To which your little guy friend didn't get the hint Miles was sending him.

You giggled at him, "It's been forever. How've you been?" Miles tuned out your whole conversation with him. He stood protectively next to you, as stoic as ever.

As you finally wrapped up your conversation with the other guy, you ordered take-out rather than dining in. Sitting down next to Miles, you waited for your orders. You swore you saw steam coming out of Miles' ears. "What's with you?" You asked him. "Nothin'." He said. It was bullshit, and you knew it.

Your orders came up and Miles couldn't wait to bolt out of there. Picking up the order, Miles wasted no time in putting his hand around your waist and rushing you out the door. "Damn Miles, stop movin' so fast. Usually, I'd be into that, but-" He shut you up before you could say anything outrageous by stuffing a piece of a Churro into your mouth. You muffled a "What the hell?"

As you both sat on the ledge of the student dormitory's rooftop, you watched the sun slowly set. You both sat shoulder-to-shoulder, eating the churros that you had picked up earlier. Miles seemed to be in a better mood than earlier. Swinging your feet over the edge of the building, you said to Miles,

"I was taking this quiz on the internet, right?" Turning his head to you, he asked, "What quiz?"

You responded, "You know, one of those 'What Movie Are You?' quizzes on the internet." Miles nodded his head in acknowledgment and you continued "And guess what it said," He tilted his head at you and hummed, urging you to continue.

"Marley & Me!" You chuckled, "Which is crazy, 'cause I don't even have a dog. Then I was thinking. And maybe I'm reaching here, but I figured out the meaning!" Taking a bite of your churro, you said, covering your mouth. "You're like, my Marley."

Furrowing his brows at you, he said, "Mami, Marley was a dog."

"Yeah, but just overlook that for a second. Although Marley drove John batshit crazy, he brought out the best in John. I'm like John, and you're Marley!" You exclaimed like you had just discovered a new species.

Miles deadpanned at you, pretending like he didn't find you amusing. "I ain't a dog though, ma?"

Honestly, that was debatable in your mind. You replied, "I've said 'down boy!' more times to you than I have to an actual dog."

"Ion know what you mean." He shrugged. But you knew he remembered. He always looked like he was going to attack whatever other guy you spoke to. What was his deal, anyway?

Dropping the subject you said, "Okay moral of the story, I'm trying to say you bring out the best in me." You mumbled the end of your sentence and he teased you, "What was that? The last part." You only rolled your eyes and enunciated,

"Marley was the missing piece of John's puzzle, y'know? Like, what is John without Marley? John's better than me though, 'cause I don't think I could go on if I lost Marley." You tried to subtly say. This had to be the strangest analogy you've ever made, you thought.

He was silent for the majority of your rambling, so you turned your head to glance at him to see if he picked up on your words. But he was already staring at you. "Are you even listening?" You annoyedly deadpan at him. "Course I am. Continue." He said, encouraging you to go on. You shrug and said, "Alright. As I was saying," But as you glanced at him again,

He was leaning into you and the words died on your tongue. Your heart was pounding in your ears. He gently moved your chin towards him, and you anxiously waited for his next move. He leaned closer to your lips, a sly grin slowly growing on his face. You could reach up and connect them right then and there.

And then he swiped your bottom lip with his thumb, brushing off crumbs. He turned his head away from you and resumed your previous conversation. To which you had forgotten what you were previously speaking about. Your eye twitched slightly.

“So, what movie you think I am, ma?" He casually asked, crunching on his churro without a second thought.

Man, screw that.

You'd fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the book. What was this tomfoolery? "Oh fuck you, Eric Matthews." Angrily mumbling under your breath, you glared at him.

He pretended not to hear you as he swiped his hand over his mouth to conceal a laugh that threatened to come out.

Focusing back on reality, you said, "I think we should head back to the dorms now. You know, in case they catch us up here." He agreed and you both hopped off the ledge and onto the rooftop. Heading down the stairway to the dorms, you walked side-by-side with him.

On the walk back to the dorms, you couldn't explain how the topic of love came up. Then again, you couldn't explain most of your conversations with him. But who would've known love could be so controversial? You told him,

"Love's a bitch. But speaking of love, you ever notice how you can always tell when someone has a crush on someone else?" It was exhausting seeing two people who liked each other just beat around the bush.

You continued before he could even open his mouth, "You know what they say, if someone likes you, you'll know. But if they don't, you'll be confused."

"How would y'know though?" He queried your statement. "The eyes, they never lie." You said.

He found it almost ironic how oblivious you could be. "Yeah? What are mine sayin' then, ma?" He said softly.

You both arrived at your dorm's door. Turning to him, you tried to analyze his gaze. His gaze was intense, like your eyes were the only ones he could see. You swore your heart stopped for a moment. And suddenly, he was getting closer.

"Hey, hey." You nervously blurted out, raising your arms in your defense. "What are you doing?" You questioned, your eyes widening.

His patience was running thin as he sighed, "Mami. Will you just stand still?" He grabbed onto your waist and tugged you into his hold. Your hands lay on his chest, unsure. His head tilted down towards you and you just about liquified in his embrace as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His lips stopped inching towards yours, they merely hovered over each other. His eyes had a playful glint in them. He was teasing you. If he didn't kiss you right now, you were sure you'd go insane. "Miles-" You started to complain until he cut you off with a kiss.

Your senses were overwhelmed, solely by him. His comfortable and familiar smell, the warm feeling of his lips on yours, and his fingertips that held onto your waist. His breath was tickling yours. You were sure that if he wasn't holding onto you, your legs would crumble completely. Your hands slithered onto his braids, playing with them as your lips moved together.

The beat of your heart played a song so loud you felt like he could hear it. As your eyes fluttered open to look up at him, you knew he could read the obvious affections you held in your eyes. Looking into his eyes, you hummed and pretended to ponder it. Grinning at him, you said,

"I think they're saying that we should do that again."

--------

Lucy, I'm home - I Love Lucy

Troy and Annie - roommates from the tv series Community

Eric Matthews - love interest from Miss Congeniality

the eyes, they never lie - scarface

lmk if you wanted to be added to the taglist!

a/n: i said my reqs were open and then i forgot to turn them back on very sorry LMAO

[valeriianz]

For the fic writer asks:

4. Obviously you did research for BitB. I'd love you to ramble about it if you like I'm sure you've got STORIES

5. Did you outline it?

7. How'd you decide it would be Hob's pov?

25-27 I'd love to know a/some favorite lines, details, and any lore you might want to share

omg TJ what wonderful questions! thank you!! this is going to get LONG!

4: Rambling about research!

do you wanna see a screen shot of my bookmarks under my "band au" folder?

man, and that's only what could fit on the screen.

there is... SO MUCH i chose to ignore for this fic. ideas that i had to drop, lines or extra details about the other band members equipment. more logistics, what Lucienne actually does, what Mervyn has to put up with as the new touring stage manager... i realized very early on that i couldn't possibly cram all this (super cool and eye opening) information into the fic and still keep reader's interest and, most importantly, to not stray away from the fact that this is a dreamling fic. whenever i felt myself getting carried away with a side character or job or even social media numbers, gossip, outside POVs, i had to reign myself in and get back on track. there will be time for exploring everything i missed in side stories after BitB is finished. i just hope i still have the energy to write it all.

once, i was so deep into research that after publishing chapter 2, i went into work and when my chef asked what "GA" meant on my prep list, i answered with full confidence, "general admission."

(it means "get ahead.")

the worst part of this entire writing process is im still learning new shit. i havent rewatched or read a lot of what i've saved because, to be very honest, i was feeling a little burnt out. it's why we're kinda full steam dreamling now. it's why ive been glossing over a lot of technical stuff and being vague about conversations amongst the crew/not including it at all. i don't prefer ignoring my research, but at the end of the day i want to still enjoy writing this fic and finish it. even if i can't be as descriptive and detailed and nuanced as i used to be.

5: Did you outline the fic?

(also asked by @hardly-an-escape!)

i wouldn't call what i have a proper "outline," it's more like a 20k word document filled to the brim with notes that i skim at least a dozen times while i'm writing a new chapter (being in my brain is literally hell). i live multichapter life very dangerously. i copy and paste lines or sections (always scattered, never together! augh!) that are meant to go together and plop them in a new document titled "band au ch.#" and then i structure the chapter around what i want to happen.

but to answer this question in the plainest of terms: yeah. i know exactly what's going to happen up until the very end. even if its all in my head and the only concrete shit that's written down are beats/plot points. i'll figure out the rest later!

7: How'd you decide it would be Hob's POV?

i actually never even considered writing it from Dream's POV. this was my first fic in the fandom (which is so nuts to think about lol) and writing in Dream's POV sounded so scary lol. i also just thought Hob's would be easier because i have worked a few backstage shows, back in my college years. i figured eh, i can make this work. and i loved exploring how weird and mysterious musicians can be, from a normie's POV. making Hob a fan first and having him worry about developing a parasocial relationship... it was fun to explore.

25: Share your favorite line

oh god, i have so many haha.

“What are you thinking about?” starting in ch.2 and onward lmao

“It’s–” Dream laughs quietly, bitterly. “I don’t like change.” He says each word with emphasis, eyes trailing down to fixate somewhere past Hob. “And I still hold onto the things I can control, like my instruments–” his eyes swing up to regard Hob apologetically. “Or my clothes or my–” he brings a hand up and wiggles his fingers around his head. “My hair.” ch.4

"His majesty is pleased." ch.5

“You are obsessive,” he states, slow and cool and with a quiet smile cracking through his composure. “Just like me.” ch.7

“You look good.” Hob has to lean in to say so, unwilling to raise his voice amongst the roar of the fans. ch.11

“Del looks like porcelain, but she’s actually made of steel.” Desire swirls the contents of their glass before pushing their shoulders back with a deep breath. “She's tougher than all of us.” ch.11

“Everything. I want…” his fingers tighten in Hob’s hair, pulling him closer, speaking against his lips. “…Everything.” ch.14

26: Share your favorite detail

how intentionally coy Dream behaves. i love keeping him a mystery and deciding when and how much to allow his intentions to peek through has been so fun lol.

Despair is in fact covered in tattoos and piercings! i say this because i feel like sometimes i forget lmao. (but also her and Hob don't interact much so. my bad haha).

Delirium's constant explosion of color in the way she dresses <3

Hob's dedication to his job, Dream, and the people he cares about the most. i don't care if people think i'm making him too soft and good, im gonna project on that man and make him a sweet, sweet simp lmao

and ah, this doesn't matter anymore, and i kinda regret doing it but. i originally had Dream's favorite bass all black but the pickguard was white. so it actually looked like Jessamy. not gonna lie when @designtheendless drew it all black i decided i liked it better that way. and truly i do. that's when i went back to ch.1 and changed it haha. to actually see the guitar with Dream, all done up sparkling black and purple flecks... gosh it's just so him. but then i got up to the reveal that the guitar's name was Jessamy and i was like, "oh, right." lmao. no one seems to care so i'll leave it be.

27: Share a piece of lore you made up for the story

i have a lot lmao. and this post is already so long... im hoping i can get to some if not all of it in side fics in the future. but for now, here's some that's more like headcanons but:

Dream hates flying. he can full on go into panic attacks on the plane if he allows himself to get into his own head.

this was mentioned briefly in ch.4, while Dream was discussing the formation of the band, but Despair was in another band before joining Endless. she is the only character in the fic who gets to keep her English roots (lol sorry) and is the oldest in the band (30).

all of the band members ages: Dream, Desire, and Death are all 28 and Delirium is 22.

Dream can experience subdrop after going too hard during a performance.

Dream paints his own nails, it's very therapeutic.

as an exercise, i explored my own headcanons for Dream in this verse in a word doc, and one thing i will share from it that you might find interesting: If I were to ever give Dream a theological values, I would describe him as a satanist. He is a physical and pragmatic person, nonconforming, and although he is introverted, he enjoys being a part of a community (he loves his band).

also found this in my notes: How Desire and Dream got along was Death making them fight it out. Hob raises an eyebrow “like in a brawl?” He couldn't imagine Desire throwing hands. “No, in a pillow fight that escalated in hair pulling and verbal taunts.”

fic writer asks

[agoodfictitle-shadowban]

From Vormir, With Love - Part 1

Summary: As you're being chased you crash on Vormir. So far, so bad. But things take a turn when you come face to face with a marooned Black Widow.

Tags: strangers to lovers, love in space angst on earth, slavery mention, alien abduction, post Endgame, will add as we go on

Word count: 3.4k

A/n: I hate tumblr and its stupid shadowban function, but i love you guys too much so here you go! Hope you like that one

Taglist: tbd

You look up from the helm, where the lights are flashing warnings. Shit, that's bad, you think, the thrusters are about to die.

"Y/n! You need to finish that shit NOW!" You hear the voice coming from behind you, a metallic clang the only indication that your co-captain is trying to keep your spaceship afloat. "The thrusters are gonna crash in two minutes, top!"

Definitely bad, you remarks uselessly in your mind. You almost look back to tell her that you're doing your best but the ship shakes under a new hit from the enemy, and so, you keep your mouth shut for now.

"Alright, alright…" you mutter as you navigate closer to the planet.

It's a barren rock with bodies of liquid across the land, and a sun constantly eclipsed. You'd never been here before, but as you approach, you feel a profound dread knot in your stomach. You ignore the feeling and focus on the descent.

You feel the winds change around the ship as the resistance increases, and you find cover from the next burst of lasers that breaks some rocks clean off. You're far from it already when the rumble of the mutilated landscape reaches your ears. You fly through a narrow pass before the opportunity you were looking for presents itself. You shot two blasts towards the ground where steam escaped from rocky cones. The crusty dirt flies around you and heavy plumes of steam escape from everywhere under the sudden pressure and destruction, offering you cover and scrambling the heat sensors of the enemy ship. You make a brutal turn to face them once you reach the other end of the geysers' field, and as it appears in front of you, you fire, destroying it and flying through the debris it leaves behind.

"Hell yeah! June! Have you seen that?!" You turn around, and your eyes go wide when you notice black ashes appearing in the cockpit. As it happens, the thrusters start to fail.

"We're gonna crash, Y/n, look at the damn road!"

"There are no roads in the sky!"

There is screaming, and you manage to stabilize your ship before it finally crashes. You groan, feeling like every bone in your body is about to break, and you look around you.

"Everyone okay?" You ask, and you're answered by various sounds and confirmations that no one is hurt. "Perfect. Now." You get off your seat and unholster your blaster, pointing it at the head of one of the newly appeared people. "What the fuck just happened?"

The newly appeared people you don't recognize, but you know what they are. Aliens. Slavers. And now the question is: will you have to fight for your life, because those assholes look very well equipped, better than you and June after you spent years in space with little resources. You look in the fully black eyes of the alien with long saber-tooth cats-like fangs.

"You tell us, human," he answers. "We're just the maintenance crew."

"Very well armed for a maintenance crew," you sass and he growls.

"This is just a vacuum." As he says that, he reaches for the weapon strapped to his back. "Look." He pushes a button and the very distinct sound of air being aspirated resonates between the walls of the ship. Your brows knit together, but you put your weapon down.

"Weird place to keep a vacuum but okay…" you mutter as you look at the rest of the crew in overalls. They seem harmless enough, besides from the predator teeth guy. You offer him a hand and he takes it to help himself up. "My name is Y/n."

"I'm Tim," he says in a rumble, and you frown.

"Tim? That's a very human name."

"Don't insult me. It means great warrior in my language. Tim."

"I swear, it's a human name."

"Are you sure your translator isn't broken?" He groans and shows his teeth, his ears falling flat against his cranium, so you decide to drop the subject. No need to antagonize your new guests.

"Anyway, guess you were taking care of the ship when you got dusted."

"Dusted?"

Oh boy. You had to catch those aliens about everything that happened, that was going to be a pain in the ass, so you decide your best course of action. "JUNE!"

There, that should get you out of trouble. Your best friend and crewmate finally emerges from the ship's entrails and looks around. "What the–"

You shrug. Her problem now. You let yourself fall back on your seat while you consult the star map.

LMC-H 13g.

Or at least that's what the translation is giving you. In any case, it clearly isn't Earth. You let out a deep sigh, and it gets the attention of someone in the ship that you barely noticed until then. One of the aliens that reappeared stops listening to June's explanation and approaches. She's less threatening than the others, with a tall body but frail members with three joints, like those of a praying mantis. She also sports the features of an insect on her face, and you suspect she might not be as frail as she appears. You eye her suspiciously, her fully black eyes staring at you with a chilling intensity. You can't help but put your hand on your weapon.

"I don't mean any harm," she reassures you with a raspy, almost tantalizing voice, mandibules clicking around her mouth. "I just want to know where we are."

You still your hand, but don't move it away, simply orient the arm on which the coordinates' screen is suspended to show it to her. You don't even want to attempt to pronounce it.

"Vormir…" she whispers. You feel the fear in her voice, see it in the way her mandibules move nervously.

"Vormir?" You ask back, looking for information. During the last few years, you learned that information held lots of power. Before that, you thought it was a saying that only made sense in books while you lead a peaceful life on Earth.

Her black scleras and irises turn back to you. Her lateral lids close in a microsecond. "It's a bad place, I heard whispers of people disappearing around this system, or weird frequencies coming from here. We should go as soon as we can."

"Wish we could, but the bastard after us fried our thrusters. We're gonna need to get them working again."

"Are people after you?" You wince at her question, but nod. The insect-like alien nervously rubs her eye with her arm as she looks away. Not the most disturbing sight you witnessed before. "Who?"

You point at the insignia on her overall, a circular patch with a blue 'x' with a white star on each bronze section it makes. It's the flag of an alien race living on the edge of known space and civilization, nomads slavers with barely anything to scrap by because they are chased around by most known authorities.

"Those guys." You decide to keep the reason why to yourself, since you know nothing of your stowaways for now. "We bought something under their nose and they didn't like it," you lie. The alien's mandibule seems to nod at the explanation.

"Explains why you threatened us. But we're nothing like them."

You adjust your position and the screen you moved earlier as a sign that you were getting back to work. "We'll see about that."

The conversation is over, she understands, and you look at the star chart. This was supposed to be your last mission before you could get back to Earth, so of course you had to get unlucky. You let out a new sigh and got up to grab your exploration material. The ship already told you outside was safe to breathe, but the gravity was slightly higher than on Earth. Seems like I'm getting my workout in, you think and giggle to yourself before covering it with a cough.

With that, you equip your toolbelt and your protections, in case an enemy survived your attack and subsequent crash.

"I'm gonna check the enemy crash site," you tell June who is recounting to the others what happened the previous five years. The door's pneumatics hiss when you press the button to open it, and soon you have a platform to get outside. When you touch down on the ground, you look around. This place really is just a rock with a few big puddles. That's going to make walking around a lot more annoying.

You set out into the unknown.

Walking around the planet is hard, but you quickly get used to it. You find a good rhythm and settle into it, which allows you to arrive only after twenty minutes to the other crash site. Bits and pieces of the ship litter the ground around you, some on fire, along with some body parts. You approach a charred body and give it a small kick, almost to make sure it's truly dead, before you keep walking around. It's easy to find an opening inside the ship through a hatch. The metal floor resonates under your feet when you land inside, and you look around. The dying lights flash like a gas station neon tube about to surrender, so you get your flashlight on before you set to look around the silent ship. You see a few more bodies around, and after taking anything useful they have on them, you keep walking. You're quick to find the command room, and once there, you approach an operating workstation. It takes a few minutes for you to get it running - after working with that technology for five years you're used to it now - and you navigate the applications, where you find the one giving you the general state of the ship. You save that information so you can bring it back to June, and if you're lucky, it will save you time on repairs.

After a quick round on the ship and no enemy in sight, you go back to your own ship.

*

"A week," June announces, her eyes on schematics you can't even begin to comprehend.

"We don't have enough resources to survive a week here," you whisper to her. "Not if we have to take care of those guys too." You point your finger to the sleeping aliens in the ship. They had to find whatever spot was available, as there were five of them, and only four beds - two belonging to June and you.

"Why are we even helping them? You've seen their uniforms, they're the enemy," she comments and finally looks at you.

You look at them.

"I mean, they're not really like them, so, they were probably slaves too. And they haven't been hostile."

Your friend sighs, and you shrug. She always says you have a soft heart, and maybe she's right, but right now what else were you supposed to do? Leave them there to their own device? They would die.

"I looked at the other ship's schematics, their rations should have survived the crash. At least their water."

June opens a plan for you to look at, and you lean closer to get a better look. You remember walking by the door she's showing you, but it was locked and you had no way to open it.

"Alright, I'll go back tomorrow to open it." You declare. "Or at least try to," you add, less assurance in your voice while the plan disappears in favor of some ship's part.

But as you discuss repairs with June, you fail to notice the slitted pupils staring at your back.

*

The feeling of dread never goes away, no matter how long you're staying on the deserted planet, no matter how hard you try to ignore it, it stays at the back of your mind, like an itch you can't scratch.

The good news is that with some of your new friends you manage to salvage enough resources to repair your ship. The bad news is that you keep failing at opening the food compartment, and your rations are dwindling way too fast. After three days, you're starting to see the end of it and the urgency to open that damn door is weighing heavily on your shoulders. You kept working on it the last few nights, and tonight you're going back to it. You're now used to the small trek across the wasteland and can do it without any trouble, but as you do this time, you feel like someone is staring at you. No matter how much you look around, you don't see anyone, so you put it on the account that you're tired and walking at night. You reach the crashed ship, then the door, and to your surprise you find it open. Immediately you reach for your weapon. The now familiar weight in hand, you take a step inside the room.

Packages of dehydrated food litter the room, with some jugs of water. They probably fell from the shelves during the crash, but they still seem intact. You look around, your heart beating against your ear and your breath heavy with adrenaline despite your attempt at not making any noise. You reach a corner at the end of a line of shelves, putting your back against the left one before you surge in the corner, weapon pointed in front of you to look both right then left. No one is there, and you let out a sigh of relief.

"Guess whoever was there already left," you tell yourself in an attempt to regain your composure, letting your weapon lay low. You briefly wonder who else could be there. Was the planet inhab–

You swallow hard when you feel the cold metal at the back of your head.

"You guessed wrong," the cold, feminine voice rings in your ears. Fuck. You should have been more careful, now you're fucked. But not dead, you think as the firearm recedes. "Put your weapon on the ground, your hands up, then turn around, slowly."

You do as you're told, slowly reaching to the ground where you put your weapon, before you stand up and put your hands in the air. With fear in your guts, you turn around. The stranger is in the shadows, and you can't see her beside her silhouette.

You finally gather the courage to speak. "Who are you?"

Despite your best efforts, your voice shakes slightly when you talk. The woman steps forward, out of the shadow, and for a second you forget all your fears. Not only are you surprised to see she's human, but she's also gorgeous. Her red hair is tied in a braid, the strands degrading to blond towards the end. She has the bluest eyes you've ever seen before, and her face is perfect, with a pretty nose and full lips - too bad she is frowning and pointing a gun at you currently. You can't help but feel like you've seen her somewhere before.

"I'm the one asking the questions," she says, and you're not in a position to negotiate, so you nod. "What are you doing on Vormir?"

"I was on a retrieval mission, but I got tailed and now I'm grounded here," you answer, leaving out the small detail that you aren't alone. "I'm just here to get some supplies."

You know you have to look as little of a threat as possible if you want to get out of here alive. You see the cogs turn in her head before she speaks again. "What happened to the ones who were after you?"

Your eyes wander away from the woman. "They're a bit everywhere around us," you answer with a grimace. So much for looking harmless. She squints her eyes at you.

"Does that mean you have a ship with you?" You can see where she's getting at, and you frown. You answer with a simple nod right before something moves at the corner of your eye.

Suddenly, a massive form tackles the woman in front of you and pushes her against a shelf in a roar, her gun being thrown away in the impact.

Tim. Did he follow you here? Shit. You don't have the time to say or do anything, the woman is throwing Tim away with barely any difficulty. One of the shelf topples and you have to jump away so you don't get crushed. You look around and see she's reaching for her weapon. By reflex, you jump on it and grab it before she can reach it, pointing it at her. She kicks it out of your hands in the air and her hand reaches up, but before she can catch it Tim is back up and charges at her. She has to put one hand on his shoulder before she jumps above him and falls back on her feet gracefully, almost like a dancer.

You flap your hand once or twice, to shake off the pain, looking at Tim and the mysterious woman having it out. She clearly has the advantage, but if Tim manages to actually hit her even once he would probably do a lot of damages. You have to find a way to stop them, because you were pretty sure the woman just needed a ride, and Tim intervened only when he saw she was a threat - but was she, really?

You grab your own weapon while no one is paying you any mind, and fire a round to the ceiling. It bounces back, almost grazing you. You manage to keep your face calm and barely avoid a yelp, but still you clear your throat.

"Okay, that's enough you two!" They pause, Tim his claws up in the air, ready to strike, the woman in a low, close to the ground fighting pose. You point at Tim. "First, what are you doing here?"

"I followed you. You were acting suspicious," he explains, and you sigh.

"I was looking for food, trying not to have people panic."

"You did so good…" he mumbles sarcasticly and the redhead snickers. You send him a glare.

"You, do you need a ride? Cause if so, no need to threaten me. Sheesh." You roll your eyes, and she arches an eyebrow.

"I had to make sure you wouldn't try to kill me."

That makes you groan and you pass your hand on your face, bringing your loose strand of hair back only for them to fall around your face again.

"I think I can try to contain myself," you say with a hint of sarcasm while you holster your weapon. "Tim?"

He groans and crosses his arms, ears still halfway flattened on his head. "I won't attack you again." There is a growl coming from the back of his throat, but it seems to be more out of annoyance than a threat.

"Perfect. Everyone grabs as much food and water, and we're going back to the ship."

You turn your back to the both of them and start throwing everything you can in your backpack and pockets. The other two follow suit while they avoid each other. As you're stuffing your pockets, you feel a presence next to you and then hear the woman playing with a crackling packet.

"What's your name?" She finally asks, and you scoff.

"An apology first would be nice," you mumble, then sigh. "Y/n Y/ln. What about you?"

"Natasha," she answers simply, and that's when it clicks.

She's Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow. Shit. Fuck. You decide to play it cool and not reveal right now that you know who she is.

"What are you doing on this rock?" You decide to ask, even though you feel she won't give you an honest answer. "It's not exactly a great holiday destination."

"Tell me about it." Something flashes in her eyes and you barely catch it before it's gone. "I was trying to find something here."

"What were you trying to find?" You find yourself pushing.

"Solace." Her eyes navigate the darkness in front of her, but you feel like she's contemplating a very different one, something inside of herself. That makes you tilt your head, and you decide not to push much more. You close your now full backpack.

"We should head back now. Tim, you got everything you could?" You ask when you find him between two rows of shelves. He linked a few jugs of water together and is now carrying them around with his muscular arms.

"Water for weeks." He eyes the redhead. "What about you, humans? Found anything?"

You nod. "Let's get back to the ship." You start to walk towards the door. "June really won't like what I'm going to tell her," you mumble to yourself as you exit the ship.

[jessnotfoundd]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭?

Finding out you're pregnant and telling them.

(You can send me ideas or thing you want me to write about them or some one specifically)

Dad!verse masterlist

Masterlist here!

Dream

After the talk, you both decided to be calm about it, so within two months you were waiting for your period, last month it came, so no baby, this month, you felt more tired than ever, so in your mind, you were hoping that now it's positive.

The test was taking longer than needed or you just didn't want to see it?. But when you open your eyes, test in front of your eyes, your mouth open wide, as well your eyes. It was real, it was not another negative test. It's a positive one. You smile and run to Clay's steam room, where he was editing some vlog. You wanted to give the news in a special way but with the extreme amount of excitement, you couldn't take it.

-Babe.- you move his chair so he is now facing you.

-Yes?- his eyes take a minute to see your happiness and he smiles too.

-I am- it's all you say and now tears of joy are escaping from your eyes- I'm pregnant- he jumps out of the chair and hugs you, turning around with you.

-We are gonna be so good, we're gonna do good.- his forehead on yours. Both of you smiling.

Sapnap

You knew. You know your body so bad. It's been 4 months since you decided to do this and you were so upset you haven't missed your period in none of those months. But war is over, you knew this time was right. The test is now hidden in the gift you prepared for the year anniversary of being married. A teddy bear customized as sapnap. Under it. The positive test for pregnancy.

-Open my gift- he says super happy, when you do so, you melt, a necklace with a picture of you two.-Hopefully one day there will be a picture of our family.- his hand is on yours, and your smile.

-Open mine- you smile, tears already coming. He laughs the minute he sees the teddy, but his eyes go a little down, noticing there's something else in the bag.

-I knew it.- he says eyes watery. Smiling big.

-How?- you're surprised, how did he find out?

-I guess i really pay attention to you and this week you were feeling sick, we had so many rushes to store for cravings, and laziness, I mean, you never were lazy.- he smiles wide and you let the tears run down your cheeks, he is so kind and perfect.

George

He was super into having a baby, so it wasn't a surprise that 4 weeks later your last period (which finished one day before having the talk) you were late on it. So you just waited two more days, just in case, but after those two days, the British boy and you rushed to the closest pharmacy to get a pregnancy test.

-So we might do a baby and I can´t see you pee on the stick?- he says annoyed.

-Exactly, now, let me pee, or do you want to pee for me?- I smirk.

-If i could i would.- he jokes and closes the door in front of him.

The waiting turned agonizing for both, but it was worth it. You both run to tell Dream and Sapnap they were going to be uncles.

Karl

This man would be desperate to have a positive pregnancy test, he would ask you every other day if you want to take one.

-Karl, babe, we have to wait at least a month to see if my period comes or not- he looked sad.-We have to be patient, remember?- he nods and goes back to whatever he was doing.

After your period date is late on his calendar (he insisted on knowing when it's supposed to be) he rushes to your work and after your shift is done, he takes a pregnancy test out of his pack.

-Your period is late, you know what that means?- he smiles and you do so, taking this moment and being sure to keep it forever in your memories.

-Fine, let's go home, and then I'll do the test.- you take it and lean to kiss him.

When the test turns out positive he's so happy, he wants to tell everyone, so you both just decided to find a good idea to tell everyone.

Quackity

This special occasion needed some special effort so you practice how to say it in Spanish.

-Babe- you get into the kitchen with the positive test on your pocket

-Yeah?- he's there making coffee for both, the cold morning asks for it.

-mhm- you hesitate but you are proud of your effort, so you just say it.- Estoy.... embarazada- you finish with doubt and he's already seeing you like a gosht.

-You sure you mean that you're pregnant?- you nod and take the positive test out of your pocket to show him. He's overwhelmed, but runs to your side to bring you in a hug.- oh god, you are.- he assures, and you both smile. He pulls you in for a kiss and the rest of the morning is basically you both telling you're families on facetime calls

Punz

You did the test and hope in the shower for a super quick shower before heading to your morning classes.

-Oh my god.- you heard luke on the other side of the curtain.

-What?- you have your eyes closed, enjoying the warm water falling on your head.

-We are pregnant- he says holding the test with the curtain a little open so you can see him.

-Luke!- you close the curtain so he can't see you.

-You mean that we are going to have a child but you don't want me to see you in the shower?- he laughs.

-Shut up, I'm pregnant.- you smile.

-We are darling, we are.- he jokes, resting on the door and looking at the positive test.

-I am the only one pregnant, Luke.- he signs.

-I'm Luke now?- he mumbles.

-Babe, why are you so dramatic?- you appear in his sight vision, a towel on your head, and others around your body.

-I'm gonna be a dad.- he brings you for a kiss and smile.

Foolish

He was there all the goddamn time, he was so sweet. You text him if he could come over because he was at Karl, who is both neighbors haha. He was going thru the door a second after you texted.

-You okay? something happened?- he checks on you and you show him the little box of the pregnancy test. -Oh- he's speechless.

-Want you to be here if it is positive, and I'm pretty sure it's gonna be.- you said with a smile. He takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom.

-Come on, piss on it baby- you both laugh.

When the positive was there, you couldn't believe it. Spent the rest of the night talking about the baby's stuff and just enjoying the presence of each other.

Wilbur

You were sure you were pregnant, and the negative tests were fake, so you decided to get a blood pregnancy test, you decided to keep it to yourself in case it was negative, but when the results were in your email box, you didn't want to open it. You did, and you're glad, cause it is a positive test, you are pregnant.

You call Will right away and told him that you both were going to have dinner for a big surprise. So when you're shift was over at the office, he pick you up.

-I cooked, i didn't feel like going out he says the moment you sit in the car.-Hope you're okay with it.- he kisses you and smiles. You are smiling so wide that he feels strange.-You have a big surprise I guess- he laughs and you nod.

-But ill have to wait until we are home.- he pouts and gets the car going.

At home, you are both almost eating now, and he is about to serve you wine, but you hold the bottle before he could pour it into the glass.

-You don't want wine?- he looks strange at you, you always had wine with big surprises and good news.

-It's not that i don't want to, it's that I can't.- you smile wide and he keeps it without picking it up.

-Why? are you taking medicine and i don't know?- he feels like a bad husband now.

-Will, I'm pregnant.- you hold his cheeks and he smiles wide like you are.

-No more wine for you- he leaves the bottle forgotten on the table and picks you in a hug, planting a kiss on your lips, smiling in the middle of this.

The celebration is long and you both feel like you're now complete.

-So i can talk to them?- he points at your stomach.

-Will, there's a group of cells, growing them will take a time.-He looks offended.

-There is our son!- he laughs, the wine kicking in.

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter VIII.

GIF CREDIT

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Exploring the complexities of their relationship, revealing past traumas and personal struggles that deepen their connection.

WORD COUNT: ~10k

RATING: 18+ Mature topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: masturbation (m), gun mention/use, substance use (weed and alcohol), mention of suicide, mention of religion, mutual pining, other things that I'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: oh boy… everyone grab a snack and get cozy because we're getting into the thick of it! a lot of character exposition this chap but i promise it's fun :p also couldn't help myself from making javi and helena a thing (?) 🙈 it just felt right™ lol anyways feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

Javier leans forward, allowing his forehead to gently meet the chill of the shower tiles. Steam envelops the entire bathroom, swirling around him as the warmth of the cascading water embraces his skin.

Every fiber of his being screams against the temptation, but it’s too overwhelming to resist. His mind has been hijacked by lascivious musings since his first flicker of consciousness, and it only intensified with each passing second. The rational part of him had urged for a cold shower to extinguish the smoldering fire, but the primal instinct within demanded something more.

His cock has been throbbing with want since the moment he woke, the crimson head moistened with a droplet of precum. A deep moan escaped his lips as he reached down to ease the tension, but just as he began to feel a rush of pleasure, thoughts of her invaded his mind.

Her laughter a symphony of sensuality.

The warmth in her eyes like a glowing ember, making him feel hot with a desire he’s never experienced before.

The curve of her ass a work of art, a masterpiece that he longed to caress and gently bite down on as he worshipped her body.

And those magnificent tits of hers, god how they had looked that night at the fair, teasing and tempting him with their lusciousness in her corset.

The way she wore low-rise jeans, clinging to her hips like a second skin, had him yearning to leave bruising marks with the press of his fingertips; preferably as he took her from behind, her ass bouncing against his thighs while his dick pistoned into her.

He had halted immediately, his hand retracting swiftly from beneath the sheet as if scalded by its touch. Muttering curses under his breath, he rose with a sense of urgency, the need to cleanse both body and mind propelling him towards the shower to prepare for the day ahead.

Now he’s here, doing his worst to keep the fantasies away. Javier imagines her joining him in the shower, he can almost feel her wet body pressed against his. He envisions her sinking to her knees, wrapping those pouty pink lips around him and taking him deep into her mouth. Feeling her tight throat clenching around him as she gags and struggles to breathe, eagerly swallowing every drop of his release. The temptation is too much to bear, and he surrenders to the sensual daydream.

Fuck, in a slow and deliberate movement, Javier’s hand glides down the contours of his chiseled chest, trailing his soft abdomen until it reaches its ultimate destination. Wrapping his hand around his impressive girth, he begins to stroke himself with a gentle, yet purposeful motion. But no matter how hard he tries to push her from his mind, the thought of Paloma lingers, taunting him. He desperately tries to conjure up memories of past lovers, but none of them compare to the fiery passion that she ignites within him.

She would look so pretty pinned up against the wall, resembling a riveting piece of artwork, as he stuffed his cock deep into her. He wonders whether she could handle him all at once or if he would have to indulge in the slow pleasure of opening her up with his skilled tongue and fingers, coaxing her into a frenzy of orgasmic bliss.

She must taste heavenly, like nectar from a honeysuckle on a warm spring day. Javier’s mouth waters at the thought of exploring her so intimately, getting lost in the sensation of her warm and feeling her wetness smearing all over his lips and jaw. He could almost hear her sweet moans of pleasure as he licked and sucked on her most sensitive spots, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy.

He’d do it over and over again until she was whining that it was too much and she couldn’t take it anymore.

But she would, he’d make sure of it. He’d be determined to make her succumb to his every desire. Javier would talk her through the waves of pleasure, whispering the filthiest things in her ear and savoring the sound of her dulcet whimpers and melodic moans as she unraveled under his skilled touch.

He knows she’d make the prettiest faces, her swollen lips parting and repeating his name over and over, eyes shut close in which he’d tell her to open those pretty eyes of hers so she could watch him get her off for the umpteen time. He wouldn’t fuck her with his dick, not until he’s made it clear how generous of a lover he is.

He tenses briefly, heavy cock still in his hand as his pace moves from languish movements to quicker flicks of his wrist.

He’s so close, the familiar spark of arousal causing him to shudder as his balls clench with anticipation; images of Paloma, stripped naked and spread out before him in a myriad of sensual scenarios and positions flood his mind, driving him to groan with unbridled passion. His orgasm racks through him harshly, his release coating his fingers in a sticky sheen before vanishing down the drain.

Javier pauses to regain his composure and gather his breath. His forehead remains firmly planted against the tile, and he can’t resist lightly tapping against it as he chastises himself for giving in to the temptation of masturbating to her.

Certainly it’s not uncharted territory for him, yet following the surge of tension between them, he had ceased such indulgences altogether. He hadn’t even had the urge to pleasure himself in weeks.

Today, for some reason, was an exception; marked by the persistent stiffness of morning arousal. His thoughts were fixated on her and his willpower was unwavering.

Javier finishes his shower, emerging from the mist and he envelops his lower-half in a towel. With toothbrush in hand, he diligently tends to brushing his teeth when there’s an unexpected rap at the door. His brows furrow in mild annoyance, curious as to who was seeking him out on his only day off this week.

He lets the towel fall to the ground in his bedroom and he grabs his jeans, sliding them up his legs and foregoing any underwear. In true Javi style. He zips them up yet the button remains unfastened, a deliberate omission.

As he lazily holds his toothbrush in his mouth, he strides towards the front door. It yields to his touch, his initial annoyance gives way to a self-assured smirk, his expression a subtle blend of amusement and satisfaction.

On the weathered porch of his modest trailer, Javier is greeted by Paloma, looking gorgeous as always in a enticing sundress that’s short enough to expose her beautiful long legs. Her hair, styled in a playful half-up, half-down look, frames her face like a delicate masterpiece. 

She had hesitated, contemplating turning back when the silence lingered, a creeping doubt whispering that she might have the wrong address. Yet, just as uncertainty began to sway her resolve, Javier emerged, clad in nothing but snug denim, confirming she had indeed arrived precisely where she needed to be.

She couldn’t give a damn if he spotted her ogling him, he had opened the door flaunting his half-nakedness so shamelessly. He’s obviously just stepped out of the shower, his locks damp and tousled in all the right places, droplets of water cascading down his glistening, honeyed torso. It is the first time she’s seen him in such a bare state.

Her intuition had been spot on— he is a chiseled, sculpted hunk of a man.

Seeing him in the flesh is making her legs tremble with desire and causing a delightful dampness to form between her thighs.

Only when her gaze traces the tantalizing tuft of hair that begins at his belly and vanishes beneath the fabric of his jeans, does she feel the heat rising within her. The bulge of his cock is unmistakable, and she can’t help but gulp audibly as she takes in the impressive girth straining against his left thigh.

Her mouth waters, literally.

“Nena, ¿qué haces aquí? (Baby what are you doing here?)” His voice oozes with smugness, relishing the familiar thrill of eliciting such reactions from women. Yet to provoke such a response from her, in particular, sends his ego soaring to new heights.

“The library is having a bake sale…” She starts, eyes still fixated on his crotch before it snaps up to meet his lustful stare. “I’m goin’ door to door sellin’ my cookies to help out.” Which is true, yet when she had seen his home address on the list of places to visit— obviously she’d made sure to stop by here first.

“Is that so?” He muses, just now realizing that she’s got a small container in her hand, “Do you want to come in?”

The question hangs between them, both insatiably horny yet dead set on not crossing the sexual threshold of their friendship.

“Sure.”

With a gentlemanly gesture, he moves aside, granting her entrance. She mutters a soft thank you, gripping onto the container in her hand to keep herself together.

The aroma of his body wash, infused with hints of mint from the fresh toothpaste, envelops her senses; a potent concoction that she finds herself inexplicably drawn to.

While she’s always appreciated the fragrance of a good cologne, the impact of Javier’s scent surpasses any previous encounter, leaving her captivated in a way she’s never experienced before.

“Gonna finish gettin’ ready. Be right back.” He tells her plainly, walking off into his room and this allows her to have a second to breathe, steadying herself on the back of his couch as she gives herself a little pep talk before she hears him coming in again.

“ Santa María por favor dame the strength not to fu— sleep this man.” She whispers in a sacrilegious prayer, straightening her posture when he re-emerges.

“So… you baked?”

Javi’s sporting an old DEA t-shirt, the lettering a bit faded due to time along with those cursed tight jeans. He looks so hot, she begins to wonder if not fucking him is even worth it at all.

It is worth it. You have a date coming up with a guy your age and getting involved with Javier will just bring you more problems than peace. Plus, you like being his friend. Sleeping with him will only fuck that up. Her conscience reminds her, following after him as he leads her deeper into the small home.

“Mhm, stayed up all night putting blood, sweat and tears into these. There’s a point in between batches where I blacked out and fell asleep at the counter so I don’t claim the ones that are slightly burnt. I didn’t have the heart to toss ‘em.”

“Not only are these made out of blood, sweat and tears— but they’re burnt too. Huh...”

Now in his kitchen, the confined space amplifies their proximity. She perches on a stool beside the compact counter, her gaze fixed on him as he unlids the container.

His eyes flicker between her and the tempting contents of her baked goods. “Some bake sale you’re putting on.”

His teasing has her playfully rolling her eyes, “Not all of them. Just some of the oatmeal raisin ones.”

“Good riddance.”

“I think you purposefully hate on all the snacks I enjoy.”

“No, querida, you just have shitty taste in snacks.” Javi remarks, tempted to include a jab about her taste in men as well, yet opting to withhold that comment. For now.

“And you have shitty taste in decorations. Jeez, cowboy, are you even a real person?” She quips, critiquing the lack of character in his living space. It resembles a generic model home, seemingly plucked from a showcase and deposited in the midst of nowhere.

“Sometimes I ask myself that same question.” He shrugs, reaching for one of the more inviting looking desserts but she slaps at his hand.

“You have to pay for them first.”

“How much for the whole damn thing?” Leaning in on his elbows, he meets her halfway, their gazes locked in a silent exchange, each peering into the depths of the other’s brown eyes.

With a subtle narrowing of her own gaze, she communicates a silent message, her expression betraying a hint of playful challenge.

She gives him the price, he nods.

“Let me go get my wallet.” As he turns away and strides into the living room, her gaze remains fixed on him, engrossed by the way his shirt hugs his muscular frame and accentuates every ripple of his back. She can’t help but feel a flutter in her chest as she watches him go.

She lets out a dreamy sigh, feeling as if she’s fawning over a celebrity heartthrob.

Paloma looks around the plain space, a little disappointed that she won’t be able to decipher his character based on the decor he had.

When he returns, she can’t help but ask why it’s so empty. 

“‘Cause I don’t plan on bein’ here long enough to call this place home.” Javier responds, his words carrying a straightforward, pragmatic tone. Yet, despite their simplicity, they strike her with unexpected force, shattering the illusion she has harbored.

Why did she assume he would just… stay? Surely after helping her father out as much as he could, he’d be packing up and moving on to his next assignment.

The weight of reality tightens its grip around her heart, yet she maintains a composed facade, her outward demeanor a mask of serenity as she nods in understanding.

“Right, right. Makes sense… how long do you plan on stickin’ around?” She attempts to pose her question with an air of nonchalance, though beneath the facade, a creeping sense of dread begins to take hold as she awaits his response.

He doesn’t offer it immediately, sensing the subtle change in her demeanor, prompting him to pause and consider his words carefully. “Not sure, hermosa.” It remains simple and nebulous, as he too finds himself uncertain of the answer to that very question.

In an attempt to change the subject, he slides the money over to her, “Now can I have one?”

She exhales slowly, releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, offering him a tentative smile, “Knock yourself out.”

She takes the bills from him while he casually selects one of the cookies, indulging in a bite and emitting a contented hum of approval at the flavor. “ Not bad, “ He remarks succinctly, and she can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment at his underwhelming critique.

“Really? That’s all I get? ‘Not bad’? I stayed up all night making these— I think I deserve more than just ‘Not bad’.”

A chuckle escapes him at her reaction, finding her response utterly adorable. With a playful twinkle in his eye, he takes another deliberate bite of the cookie, adopting a thoughtful expression as if pondering its flavor with exaggerated seriousness. “The flavor profile is so… decadent. The richness of the chocolate is just superb—”

“Okay, well, if you’re going to be an asshole about it then never mind.” She crosses her arms against her chest with mock indignation, though a playful glint dances in her eyes; amused by their banter.

He shakes his head at her, finishing off the treat with a satisfied smirk.

“It was very delicious, muñeca. Is there anything you’re not good at?” Javier asks, genuine admiration coloring his words since she seems to excel at any task that’s presented to her.

With a snort, she retorts, “Yeah, how much time do you have?” Her mind swirls with a litany of frustrations—her failed attempts at nurturing a fucking vegetable garden, the relentless battle to suppress her feelings for him, her inability to stand up to her father.

The list goes on and on, but she keeps her struggles to herself. The version of herself that lives in Javier’s mind, the one that’s perfect and can do no wrong, one she’d like to preserve as long as possible. Especially since he wasn’t planning on residing in Seminary long-term.

Javier chuckles in response, letting his gaze soften, “You’re too tough on yourself, Paloma. You should give yourself more credit.” She can’t help but feel a hint of bashfulness creeping over her as he says this, twirling a tendril of her hair around her manicured fingertip absentmindedly, her gaze fixed on Javier with a mixture of amusement and affection.

Their playful conversation weaves through the air like a melody, punctuated by laughter and laced with a subtle undercurrent of flirtation, creating an atmosphere that feels as light and comforting as a summer breeze.

“Ever held a gun before?” He asks, noticing how her gaze had trailed over to where his pistol and badge sat on the opposite side of the counter. 

Paloma’s eyes had only lingered on the objects because she remembered how sexy he’d looked last Sunday while apprehending Mr. Thorton.

She has to keep herself from squeezing her thighs together to release some of the pressure of her arousal as she recalls it. Her lack of underwear having some of her wetness smear against her inner thighs.

At his question, though, a very mischievous idea suddenly pops into her head.

“Nope. Daddy has always been paranoid about all that.” It’s a lie that slips effortlessly from her lips, despite the fact that her father had been very serious about gun safety and had taught her how to shoot at a young age. In fact, she’s quite capable of disassembling, cleaning, and reassembling a weapon with precision.

But Javier doesn’t need to know this. Not yet, at least.

“Then I guess I shouldn’t offer to teach you a thing or two.”

Paloma snorts, “Oh c’mon. I’m a grown woman livin’ in an open carry state. I should learn how to use one… all things considered too…” She alludes to the homicide cases and the current missing girl.

Javier wets his lower lip, contemplating his next move. She makes a good point, it wouldn’t hurt for her to know her way around the weapon and he’s surprised that her father hasn’t at least given her a few pointers with how paranoid he is that something is going to happen to her. 

Still, he doesn’t want to overstep the elder man… but really, he’s already overstepped when he came all over his hand earlier while thinking of fucking the sherrif’s daughter.

She’s also proactively requesting for him to teach her, showing her own determination and initiative in the matter.

“Fine. I’ll meet you in the backyard.” He acquiesces, pushing himself away from the counter. He snags one more cookie from the container before disappearing down the hallway.

Her eyes sparkle with excitement as his agreement sinks in, eager to see his reaction when she unveils her little secret to him. She springs off the stool, sliding open the glass door leading to the backyard. Shielding her face from the intense sunlight, she steps outside, ready to embark on this unexpected activity with Javier.

From the back porch, Paloma observes him as he arranges an assortment of targets, using miscellaneous items he had gathered from around his home: empty beer bottles, a vase that had long irked him with its presence, and other odds and ends.

Once he finishes, they stand side by side, facing the trunk of his police cruiser, which he had pulled around to park in the backyard. The trunk is open, revealing the duffle bag of firearms issued to every officer. Javier gestures for Paloma to make her selection, his expression a mixture of anticipation and encouragement.

“Hm,” Paloma muses, tapping her chin as if in deep contemplation before pointing to the double-barrel shotgun.

Javier is slightly taken aback by her choice, but he swiftly retrieves the shotgun from the bag, along with a handful of shells. “ This one’s pretty heavy. Sure you can handle it, palomita?” he asks, a condescending tone lacing his words.

“Trust me, I can handle it.” she responds confidently, her tone carrying a subtle salacious edge. With a sweet smile directed at Javier, she turns and strides confidently towards the shooting area he had prepared.

He stills, muttering how fucked he is before following after her.

“The kickback is stronger with these. You’ll need to get used to the weight and recoil.”

His movements with the gun are graceful and assured. Her breath hitches as she watches in awe, her lips parting slightly as she bites down on the plump flesh, trying to contain the moan that threatens to escape.

Javier’s hands look massive as they wrap around the gun, and she can’t help but imagine those same hands wrapped around her body, exploring every inch with the same precision and mastery. The way he breaks the shotgun open and loads the shells, his fingers flexing and tensing with each movement has heat rising within her, aching for his touch. 

It’s not just the scorching southern temperature that has her feeling hot all over, but the raw, primal desire that he ignites within her with just a simple gesture.

He possesses an effortless confidence that Paloma finds undeniably alluring. As he adjusts his aviator sunglasses and gestures towards the items scattered across the horizon, his gravelly voice resonates with authority and charm.

“Take a deep breath in, then slowly exhale. Point at the target, squeeze the trigger and shoot. Remember, the kickback can be pretty intense so brace yourself for that.”

He looks so handsome following his own instructions, easily shooting down that hideous vase and a beer bottle, causing them to shatter in pieces. The shots echoes out into the vast area, a few birds flying by.

Javier looks over at her, reloading the shotgun before handing it to her carefully, the safety switched on. “Your turn, nena.”

Paloma, with her piercing gaze and a mischievous smile playing on her lips, feigns innocence as she takes the gun from him. Though she is well-versed in handling firearms, she willingly allows Javier to guide her, relishing the opportunity to draw closer to him under the guise of naivety.

She purposefully handles it oddly which has him pressing flush against her back as he guides her hands into the right position. It takes everything in her not to lean back against him, the breeze that passes by paired with his proximity sends a shiver down her spine, the scent of gunpowder mingling with his rugged masculinity and cologne has her damn near whimpering; but she’s able to suppress the noise before it slips up her throat.

“Remember: Aim, squeeze and shoot.” He nudges her leg apart slightly with his knee, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering wildly at the gesture, “And keep yourself grounded. You’re not stupid, so handle this thing carefully. Don’t want you blowing off half of that pretty face.” 

He takes a few steps back, partially to watch her shoot but also because he felt his cock hardening when he pressed himself against her. Feeling the softness of her ass against his crotch was derailing, and it didn’t help that the flimsy fabric of her sundress is thin so he could feel that she wasn’t wearing any fucking panties. He digs into his back pocket to retrieve his pack of smokes, in desperate need of one.

Under Javier’s watchful eye, Paloma raises the shotgun, feeling the weight of it in her hands as she aims at the first target. She switches the safety off, following his instructions (ones she was already aware of) and she keeps the act up, studying the items before her.

After a few moments of doing nothing, Javier speaks up.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to shoot?”

His words spur her into action, a determined glint in her eyes as she readies herself to take aim at the remaining bottles.

But just as she is about to pull the trigger, a sudden flurry of birds burst into the sky, their wings slicing through the air with graceful precision. A smirk dances upon her lips as she swiftly adjusts her stance, the shotgun now pointed skyward with a fluid motion that bespoke her expertise.

In a seamless display of skill and confidence, she tracks the path of the birds with unwavering focus, her finger poised on the trigger. With a steady breath, she squeezes it, unleashing a resounding crack then another that echo across the open expanse. Two birds plummet from the sky in a graceful arc, their feathers ruffling in the wind as they spiraled towards the earth.

Javier watches in awe, unlit cigarette hanging from between his lips, his admiration for her prowess evident in the curve of his growing smile. In that moment, he can’t help but feel a newfound sense of admiration for her.

She wasn’t eager to learn; she was already a master of the fucking craft.

And as she lowers the shotgun, her eyes sparkling with triumph, Javier knows that he has found a kindred spirit in this enamoring woman named Paloma.

He realizes he’s been played a fool, yet his amusement outweighs any sense of annoyance. There is something oddly endearing about the way she had outsmarted him, a playful gleam in her eye that he can’t help but admire.

Her laughter rings out like music in the warm morning air.

“Beginner’s luck, huh?” He says as she beams back at him, pride evident in every line of her expression.

“Daddy’s been on the force since before I was born.”  She explains, her voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. “‘Course he taught me, his only child, how to shoot.” Turning to face him fully, she deftly flicks the safety on the firearm before extending it back to him with practiced ease.

“And we used to go duck huntin’ all the time,” She continues, her words carrying the weight of memories shared with her father. “S’how I got good at shootin’ moving targets. You ever been?” Her question hangs in the air, accompanied by a curious tilt of her head.

Javier feels a sense of déjà vu wash over him at her words, a fleeting flashback to that day outside La Catedral with Steve playing out in his mind vividly.

No I have not been duck hunting…. You… fucking hillbilly.

He won’t call her that, though.

“Nope, never been.”

“We should go one day. Y’know, if you stick around long enough.”

Javier senses that their earlier conversation about his impending departure from town did not sit well with her. A small, narcissistic part of him takes pleasure in the knowledge that she will miss him when he eventually leaves.

Their flirtatious banter fills the air like the crack of gunfire, each moment building upon the next as they continue to spend the rest of the morning in each other’s company— shooting at empty beer bottles to pass the time. With each shot fired and each shared smile, the connection between Javier and Paloma deepens, their playful teasing masking a burgeoning attraction that neither could deny. 

As the sun reaches its high point, harshly casting its rays across the landscape, they find themselves lost in each other, the shotgun forgotten as they head inside to escape the merciless Seminary summer heat.

“Why do you keep your gun against your lower back?” Paloma asks, sitting on top of the kitchen counter as Javier pours both of them a glass of water.

“Outta habit. Feels more comfortable and secure back there.” He hands her the glass and she thanks him softly, taking a large gulp.

He finds himself unable to tear his gaze away from her, his own glass in his hand as he observes her. She tilts her head back ever so slightly, the sun-kissed sheen of sweat adding a ravishing glow to her skin after spending all morning outside.

As Javier’s gaze falls upon Paloma’s exposed forearms, his heart sinks at the sight of the bruises marring her delicate skin. The memory of the chaotic scene at the church floods back—the ramblings of Mr. Thorton, consumed by grief and intoxicated by sorrow, as he roughly seized Paloma in his anguish. The bruises now serve as a reminder of that harrowing encounter, igniting a protectiveness within Javier.

“I didn’t know he grabbed onto you so harshly.” While Javi is sympathetic towards the drunken man considering the unfortunate circumstances— he shouldn’t have put his hands on her the way that he did.

Paloma’s fingers drift absently towards the bruised area, her movements gentle as she brushes over it, her shoulders lifting in a subtle shrug. “It’s nothin’ compared to what they’re going through,” She murmurs softly, her voice trailing off with a tinge of melancholy. The memory of the man’s shattered demeanor weighs on her, reminding her of the profound sadness that had consumed him that day.

Despite the drunken ramblings, the accusatory tone, and the way he laid blame on the entire town for failing his daughter; she didn’t harbor any resentment towards him for his outburst.

While she acknowledges that aggressively approaching her was not the wisest choice, she understands that it was a momentary lapse fueled by grief and alcohol.

Her father had sternly lectured her when she revealed her lack of animosity towards Mr. Thorton and her willingness to forgive him despite his lack of apology. Romeo had been infuriated by his daughter’s empathy, unable to comprehend her capacity for forgiveness in the face of such an incident.

“Still, he was out of line for even—”

“He was drunk out of his mind, Javier. His daughter was brutally murdered and mutilated. Do you all just expect him and his wife to snap back to normal after a few weeks?” Paloma’s words carry an edge, her tone unintentionally sharp, but Javier can see the underlying pain in her eyes.

His own demeanor relaxes slightly, reeling as he realizes she’s not aiming her frustration at him specifically. His gaze reflects understanding rather than irritation as he silently reassures her that he had no intention of pissing her off.

“A death like that breaks families. It’s happening to the Thortons right before our very eyes.” She reflects after a pause, briefly considering the idea of confiding in Javier about her own experiences with loss, particularly concerning her mother.

She recalls the turbulent times following her mother’s death, the strain it placed on her relationship with her father, and the wounds it left in their family dynamic.

Fortunately, Romeo had managed to pull himself (somewhat) together before things escalated too far between them.

However, discussing her mother remains a sensitive topic, one that Paloma avoids whenever possible. Her suicide was a painful and perplexing event, leaving Paloma grappling with unanswered questions and a sense of profound loss.

As a confused and grief-stricken teenager, she had immersed herself in psychology texts, searching for understanding and consolation on the topic of depression and suicide, but finding nothing that truly resonated with her mother’s peculiar situation. 

She blinks, dispelling her thoughts, realizing she has no intention of burdening Javier—or anyone else, for that matter—with her baggage. The memory of her last attempt to confide in someone, the priest at church, surfaces, and she suppresses a sigh of frustration. His well-meaning yet ultimately dismissive response, a canned platitude about finding solace in God, had left her feeling even more isolated in her grief.

It honestly pissed her off.

“That’s just how it is sometimes, querida. A shitty fucking side effect to the whole thing. We can’t do anything about it.”

There’s a depth to her that she keeps carefully hidden, yet Javier can discern it with ease. It manifests in the subtle shifts of her body language, the fleeting emptiness that briefly clouds her gaze, and the sudden defensiveness she displayed when discussing the situation.

Despite her attempts to conceal it, her words are laced with emotion, carrying a weight of sentiment and understanding that hints at the complexities that lurk.

There’s a story hidden behind that guarded stare, waiting to be unveiled.

He won’t grant himself the selfish desire to be the one to unveil it. He doesn’t feel worthy of being the person Paloma entrusts with her deepest vulnerabilities, believing he doesn’t deserve such intimacy from her.

Javier’s pragmatic nature is deeply ingrained, a fundamental aspect of his character that permeates every aspect of his life. It’s a quality that serves him well in his profession, enabling him to approach his duties with efficiency and precision.

Yet, this same pragmatism often proves to be a barrier when it comes to offering comfort to others. He struggles to connect on an emotional level, his rational mind grappling with the intricacy of human emotions in a way that feels foreign to him.

While he excels in navigating practicalities, he finds himself struggling when faced with the nuances of empathy and compassion.

It’s not that Javier is devoid of either emotions; rather, he has a hard time navigating them. He possesses a depth of feeling, but lacks the finesse in managing and expressing them.

A contemplative silence settles between them, each absorbed in their own internal musings.

She feels his stare but she doesn’t waver, instead changing the subject,“I’m sure you’ve heard about Jonah Abbott’s birthday party?” 

Ah, Jonah Abbott, the remarkably young Mayor of Seminary, Texas. Descending from a lineage steeped in politics and law, his ascension to office undoubtedly owes much to familial connections and the influence of nepotism.

Javier’s disdain for him is palpable, despite only encountering the man once. Jonah had stormed into the station, insisting that everyone attend his birthday celebration. His subsequent demand for case updates and entitled behavior when things didn’t align with his expectations had left a sour taste in Javier’s mouth, solidifying his opinion of him as nothing more than an insufferable individual.

Javi had intended to skip out on the party altogether, but after Romeo practically demanded his presence there, he quickly realized that dodging the event was simply not an option.

“Unfortunately I have,” He says sardonically, finishing off his water, “Though I’d rather be anywhere else. Big parties have never been my thing, especially when the night is centered on schmoozing with asshole politicians.”

“Asshole politicians….” She smirks at him, “So you’ve met him? He’s… a piece of work. I have no idea why or how daddy tolerates him.”

Paloma doesn’t mention the many advances the man has made on her and how she’s had to politely decline him each time. He wasn’t unattractive, he held some kind of Kennedy-esque handsomeness but man was he ignorant and flashy as all hell.

His opulent mansion and foreign cars speak volumes about his personal wealth, yet she can’t help but wish he would invest as much in supporting his town as he does in his own pursuits. 

“I’ve had to deal with men like that too many times over the years. Just when you think they can’t get any worse— they do. It’s like they outdo themselves. Fuckin’ annoying pricks. They only get worse with age, too.” 

Javier’s verbal outpouring inadvertently provides Paloma with an opportunity—a chance to delve deeper into his past experiences, particularly his days with the DEA. Sensing an opening, she seizes the moment to probe for insights into his former life, hoping to gain a better understanding of the man behind the badge.

“Who’s the worst one you’ve met?”

The first name that pops into his mind is Bill Stechner. “CIA asshole back in Colombia. But you could really trade in any fucker from either government and it’d all be one in the same. They’re all contenders for worst human beings on the fuckin’ planet.”

Her brows raise in interest, “It still amazes me how you’ve literally worked such an important and uppity job. How the fuck did you end up here, cowboy?” It’s a rhetorical question but it still has him sucking in a breath.

As always, Paloma’s keen observance doesn’t go unnoticed. The spark of curiosity ignites within her, kindling a desire to unravel the layers of Javier’s enigmatic persona. Yet, she exercises caution, mindful not to overstep boundaries or pry too deeply into his guarded past.

She sets down her empty glass, hopping off the counter and smoothing her dress down. “I guess I should get outta your hair and head back into town. I had a lotta fun this mornin’. Thank you for supportin’ the library… and for teachin’ me how to shoot.” She remarks playfully with a wink as he walks her to the door.

“Well, you were a very easy student. A natural.” 

Leaning casually against the door frame, Javier’s gaze remains fixed on Paloma as she retreats backward towards her car. Despite the distance between them, their eyes never waver, locked in a silent exchange of unspoken sentiments.

“I’ll see you around.”

Javier’s gaze drifts idly over the scattered papers before him, the weight of boredom evident in the blank stare he casts upon them.

With a heavy sigh, he resigns himself to the monotony of the graveyard shift, flanked by two younger deputies who share his weary disposition. The quaint confines of the department offer little respite from the tedium, with the only source of distraction being a TV cart positioned at the center of the room, broadcasting an old Astros vs. Mets baseball game.

As the flickering images dance across the screen, Javier’s mind wanders, yearning for something—anything—to break the dullness of the night.

He’d lost interest in the game fairly quickly, turning his focus to the mound of paperwork that has steadily amassed on his desk over the past few days.

However, even the prospect of tackling the administrative tasks failed to hold his interest for long, leaving him adrift in a sea of ennui.

As he rubs at his tired eyes, preparing to rise and seek respite in a smoke break outside, the shrill ring of the phone slices through the quiet of the room. His movements freeze, instinctively drawn to answer the call that interrupts his escape.

“Seminary Sheriff’s Department.”

“Those damn kids are on my property again!”

Javier has to pull the receiver from his ear slightly as the loud yet croaky voice of Arthur Reynolds reverberates through the line.

The elderly man boasts a lineage that traces back to one of the town’s founding families. As a result, he holds vast swathes of land across the area, including a picturesque field of sunflowers that has become a local attraction.

The vibrant blooms draw the attention of passersby, who often linger to admire their beauty. However, Reynolds views their presence as an intrusion, and he isn’t shy about expressing his discontent.

Constantly vigilant, he frequently calls upon the authorities to address the perceived trespassers. Due to his advanced age rendering him incapable of intimidating others into compliance, it falls upon individuals like Javier to enforce Reynolds’ will, ensuring that his domain remains undisturbed.

“Can you be a little more specific, sir.” Javi says in a monotone voice

“How specific I gotta be? S’a group of them drinkin’ and smokin’ around a campfire. Gonna light my goddamn field ablaze. You besta come shut it down and arrest these punks before I go down there myself and cause a ruckus.”

That’s the last thing Javier needs, for the town to burn down on his watch. He begrudgingly acknowledges the validity of the old man’s complaints, recognizing that there is merit to Reynolds’ concerns for once.

“No need for that, an officer will be there soon.” As the phone call concludes, Javier briefly considers dispatching the deputies to handle the situation, viewing it as an opportunity for them to gain some experience.

However, a sense of caution tugs at him, wary of the potential risks involved in sending inexperienced officers into the field late at night. Ultimately, he opts to take matters into his own hands in case anything goes awry.

Donning his department-issued bomber jacket and ensuring his utility belt is fully equipped, Javier swiftly heads for the door. With a sense of purpose, he offers a brief explanation for his departure to the two deputies engrossed in the baseball game before stepping out into the night.

Not much after does Javier find himself navigating the winding dirt path that cuts through the heart of the sunflower field. Towering stalks of golden blooms loom on either side, casting elongated shadows in the dim light of the moon. With a flick of a switch, he illuminates the headlights of the cruiser, their beams slicing through the darkness ahead. The soft glow of a distant bonfire comes into view, beckoning him forward as he makes his way towards the source of the disturbance.

As the piercing lights of the cruiser illuminate the scene, a sense of urgency grips the group of young adults, prompting them to scatter in all directions like startled deer fleeing from a predator.

Amidst the chaos, Paloma lies sprawled on the ground on her back, her gaze fixed upon the expanse of the dark sky overhead, where the full moon casts its radiant glow upon the night.

She’d successfully snuck out of her house and into old man Reynolds’s sunflower field. August assured her they were just eight feet shy of his property line—technically absolving them of any trespassing allegations.

The appeal of an impromptu bonfire, fueled by August’s persuasive phone call the night before, proved irresistible to Paloma. It didn’t take much convincing to coax her into joining the group, the thrill of rebellion emboldening her for the night that lay ahead.

Paloma found herself indulging in more alcohol than she is accustomed to, her inhibitions loosened by the camaraderie of her friends. Peer pressure led her to experiment further, as she hesitantly joined August, Sloane, and Gabriel in sharing a joint. The unfamiliar sensation of the smoke tickled her throat, triggering a fit of coughing that betrayed her novice status in the realm of smoking weed.

“Easy, little dove.” August’s voice was gentle, his hand tracing soothing circles on Paloma’s back as she recovered from her coughing fit. With patience and care, he guided her through the process, demonstrating the proper technique for smoking. His gaze lingered on her lips as she tentatively wrapped them around the filtered tip, his attention a mixture of guidance and something more difficult to discern.

The combined effects of alcohol and weed have her feeling as if she were floating outside of her own body, disconnected from the reality unfolding around her. Time blurred and details became hazy as the evening wore on. Before she knew it, August and a select few had departed, leaving her to her own devices— a directive she barely recalls amidst her altered state.

“We’ll be back later. You just stay put and enjoy yourself.” August’s voice echoed in her mind as she found herself lost in a swirl of sensations. 

The alcohol infused her with a sense of giddiness and warmth, while the weed enveloped her in a cloud of lightness and euphoria.

The mention of cops jolt Paloma out of her intoxicated stupor, sending a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. With a sudden burst of urgency, she propels herself into a seated position, cursing under her breath as she struggles to gain her footing. Every movement feels sluggish and disjointed, as if she were wading through molasses in her attempt to confront whatever impending threat was approaching.

Had her father discovered her absence, realizing she had slipped out into the night and now found herself high as a kite?

Amidst the flurry of activity, someone had hastily extinguished the crackling flames of the bonfire, leaving her disoriented and stumbling in the darkness. With nothing but the ethereal glow of the moonlight to guide her, she found herself left in the eerie stillness of the night as she navigates the shadowy landscape.

Javier steps out of his cruiser, the beam of his flashlight cutting through the darkness as he surveys the deserted scene. The group had scattered like leaves in the wind, leaving him with an empty field and a sinking sense of slight frustration.

With a resigned sigh, he turns to head back to his vehicle, his mind already drifting towards the paperwork awaiting him back at the station.

But then, a faint sound catches his attention— a soft shuffling emanating from the darkness nearby. Instinctively, he whirls around, directing the beam of his flashlight towards the source of the noise.

His eyes widen in surprise as he catches sight of Paloma, tentatively emerging from the sea of sunflowers with her hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” His voice cuts through the night, tinged with concern and exasperation as he surveys her unsteady form. His gaze narrows as he takes in her swaying movements, a frown etching across his features. “Are you drunk?”

Her relief is palpable at the sight of Javier standing before her, his presence a welcome reprieve from the uncertainty that had gripped her moments earlier. She offers him a sheepish smile, grateful for his familiar face and not that of one of the jackass deputies.

“Er... just a little,”  She admits with a giggle, her hands lowering slowly as she squints against the harsh beam of his flashlight. “Could you, like, point that thing elsewhere? M’gonna go blind.” Her words are punctuated by a hiccup, her steps unsteady as she inches closer to him.

As she draws near, Javier catches a distinct scent in the air— the familiar aroma of smoke from the bonfire mixed with something altogether less innocent.

It’s a scent he knows all too well from his days as a DEA agent, the unmistakable odor of marijuana lingering on her. With a sinking feeling, he takes in the bloodshot, droopy eyes of the girl before him, irritation welling within him.

“Are you high, too?” He knows all too well the allure of drugs, having spent years chasing down those who peddled them on the streets. Yet, seeing her caught up in such activities strikes a chord within him, stirring up a complex mix of emotions that he struggles to reconcile.

“Maybe,” she drawls the word out, her voice laced with a playful edge. “Why? Are you a narc? Oh, wait... you are. A certified and official narc.” Her words are punctuated by another bout of giggles and hiccups, the sound grating on Javier’s nerves. It’s a familiar insult, one that cuts a little too close to home given August had called him the same thing not too long ago.

“Who were you out here with?” Javier demands, his frustration evident as he flicks off the flashlight, plunging them into darkness save for the soft glow of the moon overhead and the headlights of his car.

“Some friends,” Paloma replies with a careless shrug, her tone nonchalant. “Come on, officer, why does it matter? We were just having fun… and technically we’re eight feet from the property line so we weren’t trespassing.”

Some friends. The implication hangs heavy in the air, a not-so-subtle reminder of her recent association with August and his clique. A storm of conflicting emotions that threatens to cloud his judgment as he struggles to maintain his composure in the face of her nonchalant demeanor.

“Why does it matter?” He scoffs, “Public intoxication. Illicit drug use. Disturbance of the public peace or the peace of others. I can keep going.” His jaw clenches tightly, his words laden with the weight of authority as he lists off a litany of potential charges. Many of them are familiar to him, recurring offenses he’s seen in the files of the company she’s recently decided to keep.

She rolls her eyes dismissively, her confidence undeterred by his stern demeanor. “Oh please. We both know you’re not really going to bring me in for any of that.” she retorts, her voice dripping with of sarcasm and self-assurance.

The idea of Javier restraining her sends a thrill coursing through her veins. The image of his body pressed against hers, the sensation of the cold metal restraints encircling her wrists— it’s all too tantalizing to resist. Yet, even in her intoxicated state, a small voice of reason whispers in the back of her mind, urging her to exercise caution.

A fleeting impulse tugs at her to reach out and touch him, to feel the solid warmth of his chest beneath her fingertips. But a sobering sense of restraint holds her back, the knowledge that such a gesture would only complicate an already precarious situation.

“I’m not entertaining this. Get in the car, I’m taking you home,” He asserts, his tone firm as he turns away from Paloma, intent on ending the conversation then and there. But before he can take a single step, her hand shoots out to grasp at his elbow, her acrylic nails digging into the fabric of his bomber jacket.

“Wait, not I can’t go home yet. Not like this,” Paloma pleads, her voice tinged with desperation as she realizes the gravity of her situation. Though she’s sobered up somewhat since Javier’s arrival, the thought of sneaking back into her house in her current inebriated state fills her with dread.

His gaze flickers down to where she’s holding onto him, his expression unreadable as he weighs his options. “Shoulda thought about that before you came out here and fucked yourself up.”

Feeling a surge of annoyance bubbling up within her, she retracts her grasp, her fists clenching at her sides as she meets Javier’s gaze with steely determination. “Okay, fine. Whatever— I’ll just wait for August to come back and he’ll take me home,” she declares with defiance.

The mention of his name sparks an unexpected surge of possessiveness and jealousy within Javier, if he tightens his jaw any further; he might dislocate it. Though he tries to mask his emotions, the tension in his stance betrays his inner turmoil, leaving her to wonder what thoughts are swirling behind his unreadable facade.

“That’ll be worse for you in the off chance that you get caught. Now get in the car so we can get you some food and sober you up. I’m taking you home.” Javier asserts, his tone brooking no argument as he gestures towards the passenger seat of the still-running police cruiser.

He watches intently as she hesitates for a moment before reluctantly stomping her way around the car and sliding into the seat.

The ride into town is filled with an uncomfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional crackle of static emanating from the police radio as Javier relays updates to the officers back at the station. She sits with her arms crossed defiantly, her body angled away from him as she stares out of the window, lost in her own high thoughts.

Pulling into the diner parking lot, Javier instructs her to stay put as he exits the vehicle and disappears inside the restaurant. He quickly places an order for a simple meal, then returns with a takeaway bag in hand, his expression unreadable as he hands it to her through the open window.

Now parked at the further end of the driveway, the silhouette of the Leighton family home looms in the distance.

“Thanks for the food..” she murmurs gratefully as they lean against the closed trunk of the police cruiser, the aroma of the meal enticing her high senses as she quite literally begins to devour its contents.

Javier remains silent, allowing the tension from earlier to gradually dissipate as they stand together in the quiet stillness of the night. The only sounds that fill the air are the soft chirping of crickets and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Feeling more like herself now, she greedily slurps the remaining contents of her root beer through the straw before setting it aside. She waits for a moment, studying Javier’s side profile before offering an apology.

“I shouldn’t have gotten such an attitude with you back there. You were just doing your job... and if it makes you feel any better, this is the first time I’ve done anything like this.” She confesses, her tone tinged with sincerity.

He runs his knuckles along his jaw, briefly glancing over at her and meeting her gaze. He can’t help but soften at her words, releasing some of the tension that had been coiled within him.

“Just looking out for you. You never know what kind of mess you’ll get into with a crowd like that,” he admits, his tone gentle yet firm. 

“A crowd like that?” She repeats, brows furrowing slightly and feeling a twinge of offense on behalf of August and the others.

“Let’s not be daft, querida. Your friends like trouble— what lost twenty-something-year old doesn’t? I’m not trying to piss you off, I’m just being realistic.”

She just hums in acknowledgement, choosing to focus on the remaining fry in her container to avoid further confrontation.

“You ever been in love, cowboy?” Paloma’s sudden question feels like a punch in the gut, catching him off guard.

He stumbles over his words, trying to make sense of the sudden shift in conversation. “I— sorry, how did we go from that,” he gestures vaguely to their previous discussion, “to this?”

“By changing the subject. I’m just curious. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” she replies nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders as she crumples up her napkin and tosses all her trash into the takeaway bag.

Javier pokes his tongue against his cheek, contemplating her question for a moment before reaching for the cigarettes in the inside pocket of his jacket. What the hell, he’ll indulge her. “Yes... no... I don’t know,” he finally answers, lighting his cigarette and taking a long drag.

“All of the above?” She tilts her head, adjusting her denim mini skirt and straightening her cropped camisole.

Javier inhales deeply before continuing. “Before I left for Colombia, I was set to get married.”

Her eyes widen in surprise, and she leans in closer, eager for more details. “What happened?” she asks, her curiosity palpable as she watches him intently.

The Javier Peña, known for his charismatic ways and romantic escapades, suddenly bound to one woman in the most profound display of commitment. Oh, she’s intrigued beyond measure.

“Couldn’t go through with it. I thought I loved her, Lorraine, but then I realized that I just loved the idea of her. Couldn’t see myself spending the rest of my life at her side so I spared her all the bullshit and drama and just left…” He cringes slightly, flicking off some ash. “Left her at the altar the day of the wedding. Drove straight past the chapel and to the airport. Flew to Quantico for training and a few months later I was in Colombia.”

She listens intently, her heart aching with empathy for the man who stands before her, baring his soul in a rare moment of vulnerability.

His story hangs heavy in the air. The ember of his cigarette glows in the darkness, casting shadows across his face as he speaks.

She recalls her own brush with heartbreak, the sting of abandonment still fresh in her memory. The parallels between their experiences are both eerie and comforting.

“So you were her George,” She murmurs, her voice soft with understanding.

Javier nods, his expression a mix of regret and resignation. “Yeah. I guess. When you told me what you had gone through that night, I felt so bad. I still do. Me and Lorraine have talked things out since. She’s actually married now. Has two kids and a loving husband. He was able to give her all the things I knew I couldn’t.”

“It’s funny how life works out,” she muses, her voice carrying a hint of empathy. “You both found what you needed in the end, I suppose.”

He nods, exhaling a cloud of smoke that dissipates into the night air. “Yeah, I guess so.”

They fall into a comfortable silence, the weight of the shared revelations hanging between them. It’s moments like these that reveal the depth of their connection, beyond the surface banter and flirtation.

“And after Lorraine? Was there anyone else you fell for? A lover in Colombia?”

Her name echoes in his mind like a haunting melody, each syllable laced with memories of their tangled past. Helena. Their relationship had begun as nothing more than a transaction, a simple exchange of information for physical intimacy. But as time passed, their bond deepened, evolving into something he never expected.

Helena had been different from the others, a beacon of light in the darkness of his days in Colombia. She listened to him, truly listened, offering comfort and understanding when the weight of his job threatened to crush him. In her arms, he found refuge from the storm raging within him, a sanctuary where he could lay bare his soul without fear of judgment.

But their idyllic bubble was shattered by the harsh realities of their world. The fallout from the Gacha debacle had left Helena broken and vulnerable, a stark reminder of the dangers they faced every day. Javier wrestled with his feelings for her, torn between his duty and his desire to protect her. Yet, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t shield her from the horrors that awaited her.

As he recalls their tumultuous journey together, Javier is plagued by a sense of guilt and regret. He had failed her, failed to keep her safe from the darkness that had consumed the country. And now, her name serves as a painful reminder of his shortcomings, haunting him like a ghost from his past.

“No. Just a long string of meaningless sex. Didn’t have the time or energy to date anyone. The job was too demanding for it.”

She reaches out tentatively, resting a hand on his arm. “Well… Thanks for sharing with me. I know how difficult it can be to open up like that,” She says softly, flashing him a small smile.

He meets her gaze, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “Of course, hermosa.”

As she straightens up from leaning against his cruiser, a soft sigh escapes her lips, carrying with it a hint of resignation. “I think I’m ready to sneak back in now.”

He nods in acknowledgment as he takes a final drag of his cigarette. Exhaling a plume of smoke, he crushes the butt under the sole of his boot. “Right. We’ll keep this night between the two of us, yeah?”

She responds with a nod, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. She gets back in the car, ready to get into her bed.

He starts the engine, the soft purr of the car’s motor blending with the nocturnal symphony of crickets and cicadas. As they roll down the driveway, he keeps the lights off, wary of getting caught.

It’s not the first time he’s had to sneak a girl back home.

Just as they near the end of the driveway, she curses softly, a sudden realization dawning upon her. Slapping her palm against her forehead, she lets out an exasperated sigh, prompting Javier to glance at her quizzically.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need the ladder to get back upstairs. The lattice fence broke when I snuck out earlier.” She completely forgot about the mishap, it had almost woken her father up.

“Do you need help getting it?”

“…Yeah. If you don’t mind.”

So they sneak around to the backyard, the metallic finish of the elongated ladder gleaming beneath the growing grass that surrounds it. It reminds Paloma that she needs to mow the lawn soon.

As she bends down to grab it, she feels a sudden, unexpected sensation slithering against her leg. Panic rises within her, her muscles tensing in preparation to let out a guttural scream, but before any sound can escape her lips— a strong hand clamps over her mouth, muffling any noise.

She freezes, heart pounding in her chest, as she glances wide-eyed at Javier.

“It’s just a garter snake, nena, it’s not going to hurt you.”

A warm glow then spills from inside the house, casting long shadows across the backyard.

Paloma’s heart leaps into her throat, her pulse quickening as she envisions her father stepping out onto the porch, his stern gaze piercing through the darkness.

With a sense of urgency, Javier gently pulls her back into the comforting embrace of the shadows, his touch a reassuring anchor amidst the chaos of their clandestine escapade.

Their bodies press close together as they hold their breath, hoping to remain unseen.

Her lips are still against his palm while his other hand has a firm hold on her hip. His thumb instinctively traces slow, soothing circles against her skin. It fires up every nerve of her body.

After what seems like an eternity, a soft, distant sound of a flush is heard, followed by a click as the light flickers off.

In unison, they both release the tension they had been holding, his hand gently sliding away from her face as she exhales deeply.

Neither of them attempt to move for a split second, and it’s not until she pulls away that he’s brought back down to Earth.

“Fuck— that was close.”

An electric tension crackles between them, infusing every movement with a heady rush of anticipation. Wordlessly, they resume their task, the air thick with both desire and apprehension.

Each touch, each shared glance teeters on the precipice of control.

It’s a delicate dance, teeming with an unspoken longing that threatens to overflow, begging to be unleashed in the quiet intimacy of the night.

Once Javier is sure that the ladder is steady enough for her to climb, he takes a step back to make room for her.

“Alright, princesa, up the tower you go.”

She doesn’t say anything, her gaze remains fixed on him, a silent exchange of emotions passing between them before she begins her ascent up the ladder.

She makes it up a few steps before she stops and turns to face him fully.

In a bold move, Paloma reaches out, her fingertips delicately curling around the collar of his jacket. With a gentle tug, she draws him closer, her lips meeting his in a fervent kiss.

Caught off guard, he momentarily freezes, but the warmth of her touch and the intensity of her kiss quickly erases any hesitation. In an instant, they’re lost in each other, their lips moving with a fiery urgency, igniting the flame that has been smoldering between them.

Everything else fades away, leaving only the two of them lost in a sea of passion and desire. With each kiss, they explore each other’s mouths. Licking, sucking, biting; it’s better than anything either of them could have ever imagined.

She can’t help but moan softly into his mouth at the way his hands move over her body. Every caress feels like a promise of pleasure to come, and she surrenders completely to Javier.

His muscles tense as he pulls her closer, his touch becoming more urgent. His fingers trace her curves, lingering on the places that make her gasp with pleasure. She can’t help but arch her back, pressing herself even closer to him, desperate for more.

As their bodies meld together, there is sense of completion that they’ve never experienced before. It’s as if they were always meant to be together, two puzzle pieces finally clicking into place.

Reluctantly, she pulls back first leaving him yearning for more as he reaches out, chasing after her lips.

Their fervent kisses have left his mouth slightly swollen and lips glistening, adorned with remnants of her saliva, evidence of the passion with which they had indulged in each other.

Her eyes are swimming with lust as she brushes some of his hair to the side, “I had to,” she whispers softly, her voice barely above a murmur; filled with affection and sincerity,  “just once.”

Her words carry a weight of longing and vulnerability, a confession of the depth of her emotions for him.

“Buenas noches, Javi.”

He’s so bossy, He makes me dance. Tryna sit in the back of his whip And just cancel my plans. Sweet like candy, But he’s such a man. He knows just what it does When he’s holding me tight And he calls me “Moonlight” too. 

[tbmunson]

Escape - Gareth Emerson x Reader pt.2

Summary: You attend Corroded Coffin's practice and feelings are confessed.

Warnings: Talks about diet, talks about absentee parents... A little steam but not much, yet.

Word Count: 5,619

Notes: Honestly this is less slow burn than I intended, but we're not there yet. Thank you guys for your patience in my writing. I'm a perfectionist and I like to make sure everything is done right

Taglist: @depressedacidtest @nana90azevedo @alanamarie @lizzziekatt and of course @ashes-writing Bestie you are the love of my life. Thank you so much for always being there and helping me. You're amazing.

1 / 2 / 3

Once you’d gotten up to your room last night you did as you promised and called Gareth. Though it had been a short conversation, you learned a little more about him, like he actually enjoyed watching his sisters and he volunteers to watch them on Friday’s because, and you quote, “I’m their best friend, they don’t need some random teen that doesn’t know or care about them to watch them.” That line made you smile a little.

Gareth picked up on how much you enjoyed watching his sisters too and that made it harder to convince himself that you were too opposite and it would never work. Once he hung the phone up by the kitchen door he went up to his room to get ready for bed. His eyes went immediately to the pile of clothes at the end of his bed. More specifically, the pale pink bra. He stood frozen in the doorway of the room, just looking at it. Many thoughts raced through his head, the most prominent being you’d been in his shirt without a bra on for the last hour and a half, as if his previous fantasy needed anymore fuel. He let out a shaky breath and stepped over to the heap, debating on what to do with it. The perv in his brain told him to pick it up, keep it, and never give it back. You left it after all. The rational part told him to fold your shirt, put it in his chair, and hide the bra under it so he wasn’t tempted to let the perv part win.

He went with the second option, although the feeling of the silk and lace between his fingers had the perv side going insane. He still put the bra into the folded cotton and went to bed.

Gareth was woken by the sound of knocking on his bedroom door. He knew his parents took his sisters to Lori’s gymnastics competition in Indianapolis so he wasn’t sure who it could be. “Yeah?” He called out, which was answered by the door swinging open and a smug looking Eddie walking in.

“How was your date, Emerson?” He quirked a brow as he walked across the room to sit in the chair.

“Whoa! Don’t sit there!” Gareth jumped up and made it over to the chair to move your clothes from it.

“I sit on your clothes all the time in that chair.” Eddie rolled his eyes at his friend and finally sat down.

Gareth settled at the end of his bed and held the neatly folded fabric up. “Not mine.”

Eddie’s brows raised but what dropped his jaw was the bra falling out of the cotton. “Dude! Did you guys..?”

Gareth scrambled and grabbed the item in question before shoving it under his comforter. “No! No, we didn’t. She uh, she helped give the girls a bath and got splashed. I gave her one of my shirts.” And he knew he shouldn’t have said it because as soon as the words left his mouth Eddie’s face split into the biggest grin Gareth had ever seen.

“You gave her the Crue shirt, didn’t you?”

Gareth turned so red that he was practically glowing like the neon signs around town.

“Didn’t you?” Eddie prodded, leaning closer with the most shit-eating grin he’d ever had.

“Stop talking, Ed.”

“I knew it!” Eddie yelled as he pointed and pushed himself back into the chair excitedly, his boot clad feet stomping the floor repeatedly.

“Fuck off. Where are Jeff and Grant? Aren’t we supposed to be practicing?” Gareth stood and walked over to his closet.

“We’re supposed to be practicing at 12. It’s 11.” Eddie pointed to the alarm clock on his side table.

Gareth groaned and flopped back onto the bed. “Then why are you here?”

“Gareth, I'm nosy. And more than that, I like to prove I’m right. I told a certain someone we were practicing today and that she should come by.”

As if on cue the doorbell rang, signaling someone’s arrival.

“I hate you.” Gareth grumbled, getting out of bed again. He opened the door and just about had to pick his jaw up from the floor.

You stood there in the shirt he’d given you last night, only now there was a knot tied in it just above your belly button. You’d paired it with a pair of jean shorts that were cut dangerously high and a pair of white sneakers. What caught his attention the most was the red plaid bandana wrapped around your head to keep the baby hairs that fell out of your bun at bay. It was the same red plaid of his battle vest. “Morning, sleepy head.” You smiled, lightly glossed lips shining in the sun.

“Morning.” He replied almost breathlessly.

Eddie came up behind him and smirked. “Nice shirt, short stuff.”

You beamed and looked down. “Thanks. Gareth let me borrow it. My mom won’t let me have one because Crue is ‘unholy’ or some shit.”

Gareth couldn’t see your eyes roll due to the sunglasses on your face, but he knew they had by the tone in your voice. “You actually listen to them?” He was surprised to say the least.

“There’s a lot that you don’t know about me. I’m more than short skirts and pom poms.” You reached out and patted his chest as you stepped into the house, brushing your body with his as you did so.

Gareth tried, he really did, to keep himself at bay. He was unsuccessful. “I need to go shower. Eddie, entertain, please.” He was pleading, which gave Eddie an ungodly amount of satisfaction.

“Yeah, of course.” Eddie’s face was taken over by a shit-eating grin.

Gareth groaned and walked away. He regretted giving you the shirt and even more so, asking Eddie to hang out with you because who knew what he was going to say.

“Eddie, what am I doing here so early? He obviously just woke up.” You asked as you settled onto the sofa.

Eddie shrugged, sprawling himself over the recliner. “Figured I’d give you two some extra time together. Get to know each other more, for the project, of course.”

You knew he was lying, or at least not telling you the full truth. You thought about calling him out on it, but you also didn’t want to be wrong, let alone have Gareth hear that you liked him. “Thanks, buddy.” You replied sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

The two of you sat silent for no more than a minute before you spoke again.

“Can we smoke later?”

“The Princess of Hawkins partakes in the devil’s tobacco?” Eddie raised a brow at you, honestly stunned at the request.

You laughed and shook your head. “Never have, but I think it’ll be fun. I hear it lets your true self out and I kind of want a reason to get some heavy shit off of my chest.”

“Gonna let your secrets spill, Princess?”

“I don’t have secrets, just things not everyone knows.” You replied, picking at your nails before looking up to Eddie’s smirking face. “Grow up Munson. You’re not right about everything, okay?”

“But I’m right about this.” He replied, pushing himself to stand so he could walk into the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink?”

You rolled your eyes and got up to follow him. “You’re smug, you know that?”

He laughed as he grabbed two cups from the cabinet. “I can afford to be smug, Sweetheart.”

“Just don’t say anything else about it.” You rested your elbows on the counter and watched Eddie scoop the ice into the cups.

“So, I’m right and I can’t say anything about it.” He pretended to think hard about it before speaking again. “Fine, but you're both stupid and blind.”

“You really know how to make a woman swoon, don’t you Munson.” You pushed off of the counter and grabbed one of the cups. “It’ll happen if and when it’s supposed to. Don’t meddle in it.”

“I won’t, but it’s so obvious, just so you know.”

“What’s obvious?” Gareth walked into the kitchen scrubbing his head with a faded blue towel.

Eddie glanced at you before looking at Gareth. “The Princess's crush.”

“Munson.” You glared at him, eyes squinted in a way that dared him to say another word.

Gareth nodded and walked through to drop the towel in the laundry room, leaving you to glare at Eddie until he returned. “Well, that’s her business.”

“See!” You more or less yelled, glad Gareth wasn’t going to press for details.

Eddie rolled his eyes and jumped up on the counter as he mumbled something about “blind and delusional” under his breath.

It was your turn, again, to roll your eyes.

Gareth walked back out and rested against the counter as he looked between the two of you. “Well it looks like you two had a great time. Scowling is usually a good sign right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, frown turning up into a smile and eyes lighting up. “Yeah, absolutely. He just thinks he’s right all the time.”

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean, Doll.” Gareth chuckled, sending you a smile that made you melt.

Before anything else could be said the front door swung open and the two other members of Hawkins most metal band walked in.

“My men! We ready to get started?” Eddie asked, drawing all of the attention to himself.

Grant and Jeff share a confused look which made you laugh a little. It was obvious that they hadn’t expected you to be sitting on the kitchen island with Gareth leaning next to you.

Gareth, who gained bravery by his friends' presence, pushed himself up and rested his hand on your thigh. “Ready?” He asked, giving it a quick squeeze.

You swallowed down the whimper you wanted to let out and nodded.

Gareth gave you another squeeze before offering you a hand to help you down, which you took before mumbling a small “Thank you” to him. He rested his hand on the small of your back to lead you to the detached garage where their practice was held. “There’s a couch if you wanna sit.” He nodded to the old floral couch that had no doubt been in the house previously.

“Thanks, Gare.” You smiled as you stepped away from him. You settled onto the couch as he and the boys took their places to start practice. You watched Gareth twirl the drumstick in his hand and subconsciously squeezed your thighs together, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Eddie.

“So I think we can start with the cover of Live Wire. Yeah?” Eddie looked around as the boys nodded in response.

You loved that song, it was the one you played and danced to alone every time your parents were out. You bobbed your head and mouthed the words along with Eddie but your eyes stayed on Gareth, watching the sweat glisten off of his cheeks and nose and how his hair bounced as he headbanged along.

Gareth felt your eyes on him the whole time which encouraged him to do his best to impress you, making this one of the best practices they’d had in a while.

Once practice was over and they started packing up Eddie watched Gareth walk over to the couch, pick your feet up and sit with your feet in his lap. Gareth rested his hand on your shin, rubbing his thumb over the smooth skin. “I think you’re our good luck charm, Princess. These fools haven’t made it through a practice without a fuck up in weeks.” Eddie smirked, carefully carrying his guitar case out of the garage.

“I’d be happy to watch you guys anytime.” You replied before turning your attention to Gareth. “You were amazing, Gare. Watching you is fun, the way you get so into it. Like nothing else matters. That’s passion.” You wanted to tell him how attractive it was, but you held off on that for the moment.

“Thanks. I love it. It gets the emotions I don’t know how to express out in the open somehow.” He squeezed your leg, something you could get used to for sure.

You giggled and sat up to scoot closer with your legs still over his lap. “That’s really deep. I’m glad you have a way to express everything on the inside. It gives me an idea for our project.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” He reached over with his other hand and tucked a loose hair behind your ear.

“Well, I think most people are going to just do something that shows the other person. I think we should do ours to show we’re the same, but we present differently. Like on the outside you’re this scary metal head that’s into the dark and scary stuff and doesn’t care about anything but on the inside you’re sweet and funny and caring. And I’m the opposite. On the outside I’m all sunshine and rainbows and happiness but on the inside I like all the same dark and scary stuff you do. So I propose that we do paintings. Mine for you would be dark around the edges and as it fades into the middle it gets lighter and happier. And yours for me is the opposite. I’ll be all dark on the inside but it gets lighter and brighter as you go out.” You explained, waving your hands and changing your face in ways that Gareth thought was absolutely adorable.

“That sounds really great. We could do actual rainbows for the color and fade it all into each other and use the whole scale from lighter pastel shades to the darker ones.” He replied, hand resting on the side of your thigh close to your knee, far enough down to be respectful.

You squealed and threw your arms around him. “That’s genius. I was thinking we would just use our favorite colors but that gives it so much more depth! Like every color provokes an emotion and no one feels the same all the time. I just know ours is going to be the best.” You hadn’t even realized that in the process of hugging him you had drug yourself more into his lap, in turn making his hand slide up your thigh. When you did realize it, you made no move to separate or create any kind of distance.

Gareth didn’t either, he instead looped his free arm around your back to keep you close. “You’re the genius, Doll. You came up with the idea, I just built on it.”

You looked up at him and smiled before resting your head on his shoulder. “Stop it. I’m not good at taking compliments.” You mumbled before hiding your face in his neck.

He chuckled and rested his head on yours. “Hey, the truth is the truth.” It’s all he could think to say that wasn’t over stepping any imaginary boundaries that might be set.

The two of you were so wrapped up in each other that you didn’t notice Natalie’s car driving by or the way she was watching you cuddle up to Gareth. But Eddie noticed. And he watched her drive by, flipping her off when she noticed him. 

“Well, Princess, looks like your cheer buddies are gonna hate you on Monday.” He stated as he walked into the garage, seeing what Natalie must have seen to cause the twisted look on her face.

You lifted your head and dragged one of your arms from around Gareth’s neck. “Fuck ‘em. There’s five weeks left in the school year and I’ll never see those uppity bitches again.” You replied with yet another roll of your eyes. It was one of the habits you’d picked up from the cheer team and the only one you didn’t mind. Attitude could be a great asset.

“Whoa, Princess, those are some really mean words. Didn’t know you were so angry.” Eddie teased lightly.

“I’m just sick of being told what I can and can’t do. Who I can and can’t hang out with.” You sighed, resting your head once again on Gareth’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be, Doll.” He pulled you the rest of the way into his lap and held you as the other two members joined you in the garage.

“What’s the plan for the rest of the day?” Jeff asked, stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

“My parents will be getting home with the girls soon. They’re gonna throw a fit to show me the routines so I’m stuck here. You guys are welcome to stay and hang though.” Gareth said, resting his chin on your head. The scent of your shampoo was intoxicating to him.

Grant and Jeff shared a look. 

“Yeah I think we’ll go hit up the mall for a little bit and come back later. You coming, Ed?” Grant asked as Jeff fished the car keys from his pocket.

“Yeah, but we’ll come back for Princess’s first smoke sesh tonight.” Eddie said as he reached out to flip the hoop in your ear.

You raised your hand and flipped him off, which caused Gareth to laugh a little.

“Sounds good.” Gareth then looked down at you. “You staying or going?”

“I’ll stay. I’d love to see the girls and we can start on the project since we have an idea.” You replied with a smile before turning your attention to the other guys. “You guys are really great, by the way. Like I know the people I hang out with are assholes to you so I’m thankful you didn’t just write me off with them.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. You stopped them from coming after us more times than we can count. We knew you weren’t like them.” Jeff said, twirling the keys around his finger.

“Yeah, you hung with who you did for survival. It’s not like you were the one chasing the freshmen down in your car.” Grant stated, which caught your attention.

“I’m sorry, what? Who chased them down in their car?”

The guys shared a look, one that said he probably shouldn’t have said that. “Jason, Andy, and I think Tiffany and Natalie were in Jason’s Jeep last week and the freshmen were biking home.”

You nodded, deep in thought about what exactly you would say come Monday morning practice. None of it was pretty.

“I think on that note, we’re gonna head out.” Eddie clapped his hand over Grant’s shoulder and the three of them walked off towards Jeff’s car.

“You didn’t tell me about that.” You said softly, turning to look at Gareth.

“I know, but the kids didn’t want anyone to know. It hasn’t happened again, and if it had I promise I would have told you. The kids were embarrassed, I think.”

You nodded and moved to stand, only Gareth’s grip on your hips tightened and he pulled you back down, making you giggle a bit. ”Gare, we gotta go get the painting stuff.”

His arms wrapped around you, keeping you pressed to him. “I know, but this is really comfortable.”

You couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Eddie had been right. Maybe Gareth did like you. Maybe it would be okay that you liked him. You laughed when he buried his face into your neck and relaxed into him.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, thoughts buzzing around your heads about the other.

You ran your hand down his arm before you slipped your fingers through his. “You know once the girls get here we aren’t going to be able to go.” You hummed into his ear as you squeezed his hand in yours.

“I know. They’re gonna take you away from me.” He mumbled into your neck. He felt the way your lips morphed into a smile against his ear. “But I bet you like them more, huh? It’s not like you cut up my food for me last night.” He teased, snuggling into you a bit more.

His voice vibrated against the sensitive part of your neck causing you to sucks in a fast breath, which he didn’t miss. “I would have fed it to you if you'd have asked.” You moved so your lips were against his ear. “I’d do anything if you asked.” You smiled, hoping more now than ever that Eddie was right and not just saying it.

Gareth picked his head up and looked down at you. “All I have to do is ask, hm?”

You nodded and opened your mouth to reply, only to be cut off by the sound of a car coming into the driveway. “Well, looks like we missed our opportunity for a quick escape.” You chuckled, moving just enough to get off of his lap and settle next to him. You didn’t miss the pout on his face when you moved.

He laughed at the joke and watched the girls run from the car, yelling about how Lori’s team won their division and showing off her sash.

“Ooh! You look fancy with that, girly. Why don’t you show me your favorite trick!” You beamed at them.

Lori took her sash off and handed it to you before showing you back walkover.

“Wow! That was perfect, baby doll! What about you, lil bit? Are you in gymnastics?”

Clara perked up at her new nickname and nodded before she did a cartwheel.

“You guys are so good. You’re way better than I was at that age.” You smiled as they climbed onto the couch.

Gareth watched you with pure adoration.

“Can you do tricks?” Clara asked, looking up from her spot on your leg.

You smiled and tucked a loose hair behind her ear. “I actually can. I do gymnastics on Mondays and Wednesdays after school. It helps with cheerleading.” You replied, watching the girls' faces light up.

“Can you show us something? Please!” Lori asked, latching onto your hand.

As much as you would have loved to, the jean shorts you were wearing were so tight, you thought you wouldn’t be able to move properly. “I can’t right now because I’m not wearing the right clothes, baby doll. But when Gareth and I get back from the supply store, I’ll show you a few things. I promise.” You held up your pinky to her.

She wrapped hers around yours and smiled. “Okay!”

Gareth slipped his hand behind your back and rubbed his thumb up and down the exposed skin between the shirt and your shorts. “Why don’t you guys let us go ahead and go so we can come back faster? Huh?”

“Okay bubby!” Clara said, sliding down from your lap and reaching out for her sister's hand, which Lori took.

“We’ll see you guys in a little bit!” You called after the girls as they made their way inside.

Gareth, against his better judgment, wrapped his arms around you and settled his chin onto your shoulder. “You’re so great with them. They love you.” He said in a low voice that sent chills down your body, which he noticed and smirked at.

“I love them too. They’re the sweetest kids.” You replied, resting your hand on his.

“I love them, but I can’t wait to have my own, you know?” His hand subconsciously rested on your stomach for a moment as he pulled his hands back.

You watched him stand up, lost for words for a moment as images of Gareth and your kids playing in the yard swam through your head. “You want a big family?” You asked, taking his hand that was waiting.

He nodded, letting you pull yourself up. “Yeah, four or five, maybe more. There’s just something about taking care of another person, showing them how to be people that gets me.” He looked down at you, a soft smile on his face. “What about you?”

You nodded, resting your hands on his shoulders to keep yourself up. “Yeah, I want a huge family and a job so I’ll always be around. My parents are always gone on business and I never get to see them.” You explain, with a bit of a somber look.

“You’re going to be an amazing mother one day. Any kid would be lucky to have you, Doll.” Gareth instinctively wrapped his arms around your body and rocked you a bit.

You buried your face into his neck and fought the urge to kiss the skin under your lips. “Thanks, Gare.” You slowly pulled away from him and smiled. “You ready to go?” You asked as you gripped his hand in yours.

“Yeah, Doll. Let’s go.”

***

Once the two of you finished gathering the supplies you decided to go back to your place to paint since it would be quiet.

“So, the spare office is my studio. Upstairs, end of the hall to the left.” You said as you opened the door. “I’ll grab us some snacks and bring them up.” You smiled as he looked around.

“I’ll go get set up. See you in a bit.” He almost stepped up to kiss the top of your head, but he caught himself. He went up the stairs and into the room you’d directed him to. Paintings and drawings hung around the room. He took time looking at each one, stopping on a pencil drawing of him. He smiled, knowing that you’d looked at him long enough to draw him.

You made your way into the room with a tray of small sandwiches, grapes, and a sleeve of Oreos. “It’s probably not the best combo, but it makes my brain work.” You followed his eyes and blushed. “Oh, um…”

Gareth turned and smiled at you. “It’s really good. When did you do it?” He reached out and took the tray for you.

“Last year, chemistry. I finished an exam early and the way the light was hitting you was perfect. I’m sorry if that’s creepy.” You cringed a bit, clutching the Oreos tighter.

“It looks great. You got my good angle.” He said, looking over at you.

“Thank you.” Your voice was small, timid.

“What’s wrong?” He stepped over and put his hands on your upper arms.

You scanned the floor and shrugged. “I guess I’m just not used to people telling me my art looks good. When I was a kid I’d show my parents and their response was usually ‘That’s nice honey.’ and then they would go back to whatever they were doing. It’s just different I guess?” You explained, bringing your eyes to finally meet his. “Plus, I don’t want you to think I’m some weirdo for drawing you.”

Gareth couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped at your last comment. “I’m flattered you decided to draw me. You have a real talent for this stuff, Doll. You just have to find the right people to appreciate it.”

You smiled up at him and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Thank you.” Everything inside of you was telling you to kiss him, but you stopped yourself.

“Any time, sweet thing.” He couldn’t have stayed like that for hours, your body pressed against his, your scent lingering around him.

“C’mon, let's get started on these canvases.” You smiled as you hesitantly pulled back.

He nodded and let go of you to empty the bags filled with tubes of paint, brushes, and palettes.

“Do you mind if I put on some music? It helps me focus.” You looked over at him from next to the small stereo.

“Yeah, go ahead.” He was organizing the tubes so that it matched the color wheel, making it easier to grab what was needed. He was a little shocked when Quiet Riot started playing through the speaker. “She just keeps getting better and better.” He mumbled as he watched you bob your head to the beat as you began setting up the canvases on easels.

“Come on, feel the noise. Girls, rock your boys. We’ll get wild wild wild.” You sang under your breath as you measured the canvas, looking for the exact middle. When you marked it, you worked your way around making lines that lead from the middle to the edge, to make sure the brush stroked wouldn’t look wonky and crooked. When the lines were done you grabbed an Oreo and marked where the colors would fade into one another and transition from darker to lighter.

Gareth sat back and watched you, deciding that he would marry you on the spot if you would have asked. The focus on your face, the attention to detail, the mumbling of one of his favorite bands, even the Oreo that was between your lips and you figured your next mark, it was all driving him crazy in the best way.

“Do you want me to mark yours too?” You asked, peering over at him to see him leaned against the desk with his arms folded over his chest, eyes on you.

“Uh, yeah, if you want. It’ll probably be better, like if we want them the same, you know?” He was nervous that you’d just caught him staring, you didn’t seem to mind as you agreed and went to work on the second canvas, following the marks from your own.

Once you’d finished you walked over to the desk and grabbed one of the sandwiches. “Lunch break, then we’ll get started.

Gareth chucked and grabbed one of his own. “Good, I thought you were just going to have Oreo’s for lunch.”

You laughed and shrugged. “Wouldn’t have been the first time. My diet isn’t the best.” You replied with a smile.

“Mine either. Honestly, last night was going to be pizza, not that Benny’s is any healthier, but that’s on you.” He joked, making you roll your eyes.

“Fine, next time I’ll bring salad and water.” You replied with a teasing smile.

Next time. You wanted there to be a next time. “You can bring whatever you want as long as you come back.” He replied before popping a grape into his mouth.

“I’ll come back anytime you want me to.” You don’t know what made you brave enough to say it. Maybe it was the fact that it was just the two of you, or maybe it was because you were tired of keeping your feelings at bay and you just wanted to know how he felt.

“You could live there if you wanted to, I wouldn’t mind. I know the girls wouldn’t either.” He reached over and grabbed your hand, which you took and let him pull you close.

“You mean that?”

“Yeah, Doll. Can I be honest with you?”

You nodded and looked up at him.

“I like you. A lot. I have for a really long time. I’m sorry if that makes this weird.”  He looked down at your hands that were intertwined with his.

You smiled and let go of his hands, which scared him until he felt your hands on the side of his face. “Thank god. I was gonna go crazy if you didn’t feel the same way.”

His eyes darted up, looking at you, trying to figure out if this was some joke. “Are you serious?”

You rolled your eyes and pulled him to you. “I’m serious.” You whispered, your lips brushing over his.

He grabbed your hips and pressed his lips to yours, savoring the feeling of the kiss along with your hands slipping down his neck and around him, bringing him closer to you.

You felt his tongue lick across your bottom lip, prompting you to open your mouth at the same time his hands slid around your hips and settled into the back pockets of your jean shorts. You whined into his mouth when he squeezed the fat of your ass.

He pressed kisses down your jaw and onto your neck before latching on at the base and leaving a mark that wouldn’t be easily hidden.

“What are you doing?” You asked, words coming out in a rushed breath.

“Making sure everyone knows your mine.” He answered as he pulled back to examine the mark.

You reached up and smiled when your fingers slid over the tinder part. “I thought they would get it when they saw me kissing you in the halls, but I can go for this too.” You giggled, letting that hang drop down to his chest, the other arm was still hooked behind his neck.

“Yeah? So you wanna be my girl, officially?” His hands migrated from your pockets to your sides, thumb running over the exposed skin. 

You nodded and moved to stand on your tiptoes to give his nose a kiss. “Yeah, I do. I always have.” You replied.

“Honestly, I didn’t think that I’d thank Mr. Greely for anything, but I think he deserves a gift or something.” Gareth stated, taking your hand from his chest and slipping his fingers between yours.

“Yeah, I think he does.” You smiled, laughing as Gareth used his hold on your hand to spin you around. “What are you doing?”

“Just seeing what my girl looks like all the way around.” He answered, scanning over you with a satisfied smile.

“Your girl. I like the way that sounds.” Your hand rested on his hip and your eyes flickered between him and your hand. “We would get started, yeah?”

Gareth nodded, mouth gaping open. He was shocked when you pulled away and walked over to the canvas. “Oh, right. Yeah. Let’s do… that.” He took a few deep breaths and followed you to his so you could explain your vision for the pieces.

[wifelinkmtg]

Wifelink: Murders! #sponsored

Welcome back to the best dumb idea I've ever had! Murder has come to the City of Guilds. Well, murder lives here, but it's crept out of the shadows, crawled up from the undercity, slunk through steam and oozed its way out of the breeding pools, and guild leaders are dropping like coins from a debtor's mouth. Who could be responsible? Who could be next? Who was that woman slipping furtively into an alley, and what's her deal? Is she single? Some of these questions and more will be answered on today's episode. Live from Ravnica, this... is Wifelink.

But first, a word from today's sponsor: picture this - it's your turn to host the monthly meeting of your true crime book club, and you maybe haven't finished Massacre: the true story of Ravnica's bloodiest killings and the woman behind them, and now you're trying to decide whether to finish it so you don't look like an idiot in the discussion group, or to spend time whipping up hors d'oeuvres so you don't have to serve everyone the same stupid veggies-and-ranch plate you did last time and suffer once more through Joanna's veiled disapproval. But what if I told you there was a way to get professionally-made charcuterie shipped directly to your home, leaving you the time you need to finish your last few chapters and craft a trenchant discussion question just in time for the doorbell? With Hello Flesh, it's just that easy: the incredible chefs at Hellbender will provide you with a mouthwatering selection of their finest meats: prosciutto, summer sausage, capicola, pastrami, and much, much more! Go to helloflesh dot com now, and sign up using offer code KNIFELINK to get your first month absolutely free! That's helloflesh dot com, offer code K-N-I-F-E-L-I-N-K. Hello Flesh: Don't ask where the meat comes from.

WAIT, WE'RE DOING RAVNICA? DIDN'T YOU SKIP A COUPLE SETS

What are you, Azorius? I've never felt any fondness for Eldraine, and I really didn't vibe with the new Ixalan set, so we're doing the Ravnica Murder Mystery set. I'm not going to do every single set that comes out or this will be my full-time job by 2026.

Cold Case Cracker (art by Wayne Wu)

Some things are very simple. Good cheekbones and the classic trench coat with the wide belt. I particularly enjoy the way her hair looks more like strips of fabric or parchment.

Merchant of Truth (art by Carissa Susilo)

"Goth angel" works on me every time, and this piece is particularly gorgeous - the composition and that dress, my goodness. You don't see a lot of angels from behind in Magic, on account of you would have to figure out what the anatomy and clothing situation is where the wings connect to the back, and Carissa has solved the clothing problem rather elegantly, and refused to engage with the anatomy problem at all. I can respect that.

I've never quite understood what's going on with Orzhov angels - I think they're mostly supposed to be disillusioned ex-Boros, but they don't really get much of a voice in story. You've got the flavor text on Angel of Despair, "it is as if their duty is to an empty void," but that's a quote from the most Boros of all the angels. Perhaps it's simply that the Orzhov don't labor under the same illusions as the other white-aligned guilds - the Boros and the Azorius and as we see in this story, even the Selesnya are all firmly entrenched in the idea that they stand for what's Right and Good on Ravnica, but ultimately they stand only for themselves and their own power and pre-eminence. The Orzhov, at least, make no secret of this. Maybe that's a comfort, to an angel.

Experiment Twelve (art by Michele Giorgi)

Oh baby girl the Simic fucked you right up, didn't they. Claws and scales and some sort of muzzle - do you feel like an animal, now? Do you hate what they did to you, or do you glory in your new sharpness? Did you escape, or are you on their leash? Are you hunted, or am I?

Bubble Smuggler (art by Leesha Hannigan)

This is Glovax. I've only had them for a day but if anything happened to them I would kill everyone in the room and then myself.

Honestly I'm disconsolate that this isn't a real animal that exists in the world and that I'll never get to rescue one from an aquarium and have an octopus fish best friend for life. You know that soul-sick feeling you get when you remember that Anomalocaris has been extinct for 500 million years ago and that you will never be able to pet one? Yeah. Goddammit they're going to make this a pet on Arena and I will spend real earth dollars on it.

ALL THESE TENTACLES AND STILL THE BIGGEST SUCKER IS YOU. NOW MAKE WITH THE LEGENDARIES

Etrata, Deadly Fugitive (art by Livia Prima)

I have looked at a whole lot of Etrata art, and do you want to know my considered opinion? This outfit fucking rules. It's got one and a quarter sleeves, thirteen visible buckles, a circular collar that connects only at the sternum, and a clingy ankle-length skirt with a slit damn near up to the thigh to reveal more buckles. It is the least practical outfit I can imagine an assassin wearing short of an inflatable dinosaur costume but god, it looks like it's meant for deadly stealth, and I am in love. Etrata is broody and gorgeous and has a big knife and extraordinarily naked shoulders, and what else could you want?

Judith, Carnage Connoisseur (art by Jodie Muir)

A look specifically crafted to elicit "step on me mommy"s from the general public. I'm on record as saying that there's no way Judith does any sort of aftercare, so maybe have a Selesnya cleric on speed-dial if you're gonna run that risk.

Judith, Carnage Connoisseur (alternate art by Alex Dos Diaz)

I think Loxodon Hierarch is screening my calls.

Honestly, I would do stupid, stupid things for a pretty girl with red eyes, sharp nails and facial scarring. I'm not sure what kinds of things I would do for a pretty girl with gold flame decals on her arms, but based on prior evidence, they would probably also be extremely stupid.

Izoni, Center of the Web (art by Justine Cruz)

It's weird how people get locked in your memory at the point in time you knew them. You know you've changed a lot since then, and if you thought about it you'd agree other people might well also have changed, but you don't think about it, and then you run into an old friend or an ex and the things you knew them for, the things you've tied their memory to in your mind, aren't even still part of their life.

So Izoni, my beloved Izoni, Ravnica's foremost bug girl and finder of beetles, has moved on with her life in the past six years. She's into spiders now, that's her thing. She's a spider girl. And that's cool, spiders are cool, too, but the way this went in my head I was going to tell her about the mantis-riders of Tarkir and the dune-beetles of Amonkhet and the behavioral quirks of giant ants on Innistrad and now, instead, I'm not sure what to say. "You're looking well," I suppose, or something about, "so, leading the Swarm now? How's that going for you?"

Analyze the Pollen (art by Anna Christenson)

It's not even that big a change, really. Hardly noticeable. She still has that same intensity, that same curiosity. Her brows still furrow in concentration. She's still covered in crawling things, and she is still the most beautiful woman on Ravnica. Spiders or insects, what's the difference? All it means is that six years have passed. All it means is that the places and people you love continue to move in your absence. All it means is that you're both talking past each other to your echoes, to the people you used to know, who no longer exist. Time has eaten them both.

And if you, like time, get hungry, don't forget to use our affiliate code KNIFELINK at -

HEY. HELLO FLESH IS A RAKDOS JOINT, RIGHT

- in the middle of the ad read, dude?

YOU SAID HELLBENDER CHEFS DO THE CHARCUTERIE. THAT'S JUDITH'S PLACE

Yeah, what about it?

DO YOU THINK SHE'S GONNA BE GOOD WITH CONTENT SHE SPONSORED CALLING SOMEONE ELSE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IN RAVNICA

Ah.

OR LIKE DO YOU THINK SHE'S GENERALLY COMFORTABLE SHARING THE SPOTLIGHT

...so thank you all so much for listening to this episode of Wifelink! I'm going to lay low for a bit, and if my body turns up face-down in an undercity canal, y'all know who did it.