#I have so many questions who are you people why are you w/ the 3 sillies

[deus-ex-mona]

such is the tale of a ✨chronically online hypocrite✨

[thecheesyboi1315]

????while old cartoon nostalging I found out that pj masks have like 15more people in their team now?????

[sophrosynesworld]

Yeah, Best Friends (Pt. 1)

Katsuki Bakugo calls you during a panic attack seeking comfort.

“Hello?” I mumble groggily as I answer my phone, rolling over and fumbling to switch on the lamp beside my bed. The sudden brightness stings my eyes, my eyelids droop heavily as I wait for a response.

Silence.

I rub my eyes, blinking at the screen to make sure the call hasn't been disconnected. Bakugo’s contact name and photo glare back at me.

“Bakugo, are you there?” I ask, my voice still rough from the early morning wakeup. I sit up slightly, my curiosity piqued. The other line remains quiet. Just as I’m about to end the call, I hear it—a muffled cry from the other end.

“Bakugo?” I repeat, “Is everything okay?”

There’s a pause, followed by a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he finally replies, but his voice is uncharacteristically soft.

“What’s going on?” I question him again, my concern growing. The silence between us stretches thin, filled only with his ragged breathing.

“I… I didn’t know who else to call,” he admits, his voice cracking. “I didn’t want to be alone.”

My heart aches. “I’m here, Bakugo. I’m not going anywhere. Just talk to me.”

“I can’t,” his voice breaks off as he struggles to keep his composure, “I keep seeing it. The explosion, the screams… I can't get it out of my head.”

I throw the covers off and get out of bed, balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder as I pull on a pair of jeans. “It’s okay, Suki . You’re safe now. It’s just a memory.”

“But it feels so real,” he whispers, his voice strained. “I can’t breathe, I can’t—”

“Listen to me,” I interrupt, “Focus on my voice. Take a deep breath, in and out. You’re not there anymore. You’re here, with me. Just breathe.”

I can hear him trying to follow my instructions, his breaths shaky. "That’s it. Keep breathing. You’re doing great.”

I quickly pull on a sweater and grab my keys. “Why does this keep happening?” he asks, “I’m supposed to be strong. I shouldn’t be like this.”

“You are strong,” I assure him, pulling on my shoes and heading for the door. “How many times a week do I call you crying? That doesn’t make me weak, does it?”

There’s a long silence, then a soft “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” I lock my apartment door behind me. “I’m always here for you, Bakugo. We’ll get through this together.”

His breathing steadies further, “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Together.”

“Stay on the line with me,” I say, heading down the stairs and out into the cool night air. “I’m coming over.”

“What? You don’t have to—” he starts, but I cut him off.

“I want to,” I insist. “You don’t have to be alone right now.”

There’s a pause, then a quiet, “Okay.”

I pick up my pace, eager to get to him. “What’s on your mind?”

He hesitates, “It’s just… everything’s been piling up. The expectations, the pressure… I thought I could handle it, but tonight it just… it’s just harder tonight.”

“What happened?” I ask softly, turning a corner and quickening my steps.

“Everything started flooding back. The memories… when I was a kid,” his voice wavers. “I was always told to be strong. My quirk was so powerful, everyone expected so much from me. I couldn’t show weakness, not ever. And the explosions… they weren’t always under control.”

I listen intently, offering words of comfort and encouragement as I make my way to his place. “You were just a kid, Bakugo. It wasn’t fair for them to put so much on your shoulders.”

“I know that now,” he says, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “But back then, every mistake felt like a failure. I couldn’t control it… I saw the fear in their eyes, the way they looked at me like I was a monster.”

“You’re not a monster,” I scold him. “You’ve grown so much since then, I mean, I am quite literally best friends with the number 3 hero.”

“Thanks for reminding me of that,” I can’t see him, but I can feel his eyes roll. “Sometimes it feels like I’m right back there. I can hear people screaming my name, begging me to save them.”

I reach his building and buzz his apartment. “You’re not alone in this anymore. We’re all here for you.”

Moments later, the door buzzes open and I hurry inside, taking the stairs two at a time. When I reach his door, it opens slowly, revealing Bakugo looking more fragile than I’ve ever seen him.

Without a word, I pull him into a hug, feeling his tension melt away as he clings to me. “Thank you,” he whispers again, his voice muffled against my shoulder.

“Anytime,” I reply softly. “I’m here for you, Bakugo. Always.”

He steps back, his eyes glassy. “I didn’t want to be weak,” he confesses, his voice barely audible.

“You’re not weak,” I assure him. “You’re human, and humans need each other. We’re stronger together.”

He nods, a small, smile forming on his lips. “Together,” he echoes.

“Now, let’s get you settled,” I say, guiding him back into his apartment.

He squeezes my hand, his grip firm and reassuring. “Thank you,” he repeats, his voice steadier now. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to find out,” I reply with a smile. “I’m your best friend for a reason.”

His smile falls, an unknown expression forming in his eyes. “Yeah, best friends.”

Part 2: Out now

[bethanydelleman]

One criticism of Jane Austen is that she ignored the lower classes. I find this kind of dumb on multiple levels, primarily because not every work of fiction or social criticism needs to include every single social ill, but also because she does talk about servants/the lower classes quite a bit more than people realize and what she says is important.

The overall theme: kindness to servants/the lower classes/the poor is a very important mark of character.

We all know that Elizabeth Bennet changed her mind about Mr. Darcy after hearing a positive character reference from his housekeeper, but that is just one example of many. The Dashwood girls are better employers than John & Fanny since they easily find servants to move across the country with them: Her wisdom too limited the number of their servants to three; two maids and a man, with whom they were speedily provided from amongst those who had formed their establishment at Norland. Also, servants tended to brag about having wealthy employers, these three servants wanted both a far away and a less prestigious job. John & Fanny were really that bad!

Another mark against General Tilney's character is that he gets irrationally angry at/scares servants:

To such anxious attention was the General’s civility carried, that not aware of her extraordinary swiftness in entering the house, he was quite angry with the servant whose neglect had reduced her to open the door of the apartment herself. “What did William mean by it? He should make a point of inquiring into the matter.” And if Catherine had not most warmly asserted his innocence, it seemed likely that William would lose the favour of his master forever, if not his place, by her rapidity.

“Why! How can you ask the question? Because no time is to be lost in frightening my old housekeeper out of her wits, because I must go and prepare a dinner for you, to be sure.” (Henry, on his father coming to his house for a visit. This may be half a joke, but General Tilney is very critical of the meal)

Mrs. Ferrars's character is made quite plain in this complaint about paying annuities (basically a pension here) to some of her husband's old servants:

I have known a great deal of the trouble of annuities; for my mother was clogged with the payment of three to old superannuated servants by my father’s will, and it is amazing how disagreeable she found it. Twice every year these annuities were to be paid; and then there was the trouble of getting it to them; and then one of them was said to have died, and afterwards it turned out to be no such thing. My mother was quite sick of it. Her income was not her own, she said, with such perpetual claims on it; and it was the more unkind in my father, because, otherwise, the money would have been entirely at my mother’s disposal, without any restriction whatever.

Mrs. Ferrars is loaded, and she begrudges paying a few pounds to 3 servants. She is greedy and ungrateful.

Mrs. Norris's treatment of the servants is similar to her treatment of Fanny. It shows the depth of her miserliness (how much could one boy really eat?) and also cruelty:

"I had been looking about me in the poultry-yard, and was just coming out, when who should I see but Dick Jackson making up to the servants’ hall-door with two bits of deal board in his hand, bringing them to father, you may be sure; mother had chanced to send him of a message to father, and then father had bid him bring up them two bits of board, for he could not no how do without them. I knew what all this meant, for the servants’ dinner-bell was ringing at the very moment over our heads; and as I hate such encroaching people (the Jacksons are very encroaching, I have always said so: just the sort of people to get all they can), I said to the boy directly (a great lubberly fellow of ten years old, you know, who ought to be ashamed of himself), ‘I’ll take the boards to your father, Dick, so get you home again as fast as you can.’ The boy looked very silly, and turned away without offering a word, for I believe I might speak pretty sharp; and I dare say it will cure him of coming marauding about the house for one while. I hate such greediness—so good as your father is to the family, employing the man all the year round!”

It also highlights her hypocrisy, as Mrs. Norris has moved in during the play to help with the preparations, so she is getting free meals all week but she won't let this kid eat when he's helping his father (who is building the stage for the play)

Mr. Knightley considers the common people of Highbury before moving a path, even though he likely owns all of the land and can do whatever he wants:

"But John, as to what I was telling you of my idea of moving the path to Langham, of turning it more to the right that it may not cut through the home meadows, I cannot conceive any difficulty. I should not attempt it, if it were to be the means of inconvenience to the Highbury people, but if you call to mind exactly the present line of the path"

The kind Musgroves, who have given their nursemaid a retirement plan instead of turning her out:

A chaise was sent for from Crewkherne, and Charles conveyed back a far more useful person in the old nursery-maid of the family, one who having brought up all the children, and seen the very last, the lingering and long-petted Master Harry, sent to school after his brothers, was now living in her deserted nursery to mend stockings and dress all the blains and bruises she could get near her, and who, consequently, was only too happy in being allowed to go and help nurse dear Miss Louisa.

And who clearly are rewarded for this kindness.

Anne Elliot showing kindness to Mrs. Smith, who has nearly fallen right out of the gentry, vs. her fathers disdain for charity:

“Westgate Buildings!” said he, “and who is Miss Anne Elliot to be visiting in Westgate Buildings? A Mrs Smith. A widow Mrs Smith; and who was her husband? One of five thousand Mr Smiths whose names are to be met with everywhere. And what is her attraction? That she is old and sickly. Upon my word, Miss Anne Elliot, you have the most extraordinary taste! Everything that revolts other people, low company, paltry rooms, foul air, disgusting associations are inviting to you. But surely you may put off this old lady till to-morrow: she is not so near her end, I presume, but that she may hope to see another day. What is her age? Forty?”

Added to Sir Walter and Elizabeth's idea to cut expenses:

“Can we retrench? Does it occur to you that there is any one article in which we can retrench?” and Elizabeth, to do her justice, had, in the first ardour of female alarm, set seriously to think what could be done, and had finally proposed these two branches of economy, to cut off some unnecessary charities, and to refrain from new furnishing the drawing-room; to which expedients she afterwards added the happy thought of their taking no present down to Anne, as had been the usual yearly custom."

Vs. how the Crofts treat the poor:

She could have said more on the subject; for she had in fact so high an opinion of the Crofts, and considered her father so very fortunate in his tenants, felt the parish to be so sure of a good example, and the poor of the best attention and relief, that however sorry and ashamed for the necessity of the removal, she could not but in conscience feel that they were gone who deserved not to stay, and that Kellynch Hall had passed into better hands than its owners’.

Henry Crawford's moral fall begins with ignoring the needs of his tenants:

"I have half an idea of going into Norfolk again soon. I am not satisfied about Maddison. I am sure he still means to impose on me if possible, and get a cousin of his own into a certain mill, which I design for somebody else. I must come to an understanding with him. I must make him know that I will not be tricked on the south side of Everingham, any more than on the north: that I will be master of my own property... I have a great mind to go back into Norfolk directly, and put everything at once on such a footing as cannot be afterwards swerved from. Maddison is a clever fellow; I do not wish to displace him, provided he does not try to displace me; but it would be simple to be duped by a man who has no right of creditor to dupe me, and worse than simple to let him give me a hard-hearted, griping fellow for a tenant, instead of an honest man, to whom I have given half a promise already. Would it not be worse than simple? Shall I go? Do you advise it?”

Of course, Henry does not go to Everginham, as he knows is right, but instead goes to the party in London, where he again runs into Maria...

Yes, Austen didn't write servants/the lower classes as full characters in general, they are in the background and around the edges of the scenes, but over and over, we can sort characters into moral and immoral by their treatment of those less fortunate around them.

[explorevenus]

doll parts ♡ leon kennedy x f!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 3.6k

description: leon may not take the best care of himself, but he certainly takes care of you. it's his favorite pastime.

tags/warnings: vendetta leon, established relationship, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dollification, daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), mirror sex

a/n: this piece was commissioned by my lovely bestie @dollfacefantasy, who knows me so well in that she knew i was foaming at the mouth for an excuse to write dollification w leon >:3 AND it's based off of that one scene in euphoria where nate dresses cassie up LIKE GET OUTTA TOWNNNNN I WAS SO JUICED TO WRITE THIS !!!!!!!!!!!!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

You were mad. You were so mad, all the time lately, and you were past the point of wondering if you had any right to be. 

It was late, nearly half past midnight, the only sound in the dim house being the unrelenting patter of fat raindrops on the windows. Leon, too, was late, like he so often was. Of course, you weren’t allowed to complain or ask questions about his high paying job, or his whereabouts, or the secrecy, where all those injuries came from or why he didn’t return when he said he would for the hundredth time.

All your life, you thought relationships like this existed only in fiction, the trope of the distant workaholic who dismisses his partner’s concerns with nothing but his wallet and his sexual prowess, piling diamond encrusted bandages upon months worth of neglect, bottled up grievances and novels left unsaid. It was a concept confined to old movies and paperbound romances as far as you were concerned, before you met Leon.

You weren’t unreasonable, and you weren’t dumb. You had gathered that his mysterious government job really was important and strictly confidential, and you trusted that he was telling you as much of the truth as was permitted by the powers that be. You knew he cared about you, you knew he would rather be home with you than running around at the beck and call of the most powerful people in the country. You knew it was never his intention to hurt you.

But your awareness of his love for you didn’t make it any easier to swallow the unending cycle of broken promises, nor the visible deterioration of his mental and physical health while his ‘work trips’ became increasingly frequent until they all started to just blend together. 

You became numb to it after a while. It seemed selfish to demand his time and attention when he couldn’t help his circumstances. Even bringing it up made you feel like a monster, and it was all because you loved him so completely.

And you loved him so completely. You had seen him cry with laughter and sob with grief. You had seen him burn toast, fall asleep with the TV on, forget how to tie a tie, dread a mundane phone call, mumble to himself when he thought no one was listening. You knew his philosophies on life and love and death, you knew him heart and soul, and so too did he know you.

Thus, you just ate it, wore yourself down until you finally accepted that all those bottled up grievances, novels left unsaid and extravagant bribes were worth the privilege of being his lover.

Your eyes felt dry as you stared at the clock, counting in your tired mind exactly how many hours had passed since he was supposed to be home. It had been a long, rough day that would have been draining enough on its own, but the evening proved to disappoint even further. 

Leon heard about the karmic disaster that was your day through a handful of rant texts you’d sent over the course of it, each one more unfortunate than the last. Sympathetic to your senseless string of rotten luck, he promised to cut away from work an hour early to return home to you with your favorite dinner and enough doting on to make your teeth rot. He did not, of course, come home early, and not only that, but he didn’t come home at all, and you couldn’t get ahold of him.

If this wasn’t such a frequent occurrence, you might have been more worried about his safety, or even more angry at him for leaving you hanging on a day like this one, but you had become so familiar with this whole song and dance that your feelings around it were dulled.

You were just about to give up and go to bed when your phone lit up with a notification. Following the several undelivered texts you tried to send asking if he was okay, he’d given a simple response that you knew would redirect the course of your whole entire night.

Headed home in 15. Be in the dollhouse

You had long since garnered that the dollhouse was more for him than it was for you, even if he seemed to believe it was the other way around. It was nice to be pampered and doted on and styled like a Barbie, until it became a way for him to avoid talking to you about anything important. But that was neither here nor there. Dolls don’t talk, and they most certainly don’t complain.

With a deep, measured breath you exited the bedroom and turned down the hall, to what used to be a spare room but was now more aptly describable as a boudoir. The door creaked open to reveal the delicate, feminine space, heavy satin drapes blocking out any potential prying eyes. Between two solid oak wardrobes was an ornate standing mirror, the walk-in closet to the right overflowing with opulent clothing that hardly ever saw the light of day, just the familiar warmth of Leon’s cerulean eyes. 

At the other end of the room was an antique, three-mirror vanity, stocked carefully with luxury makeup, designer perfumes and every last tool one might need to style your hair, down to a box of satin ribbons in every color with which to tie it back. Leon was never one to do things half-way, and dolling you up was no exception.

Piece by piece, you stripped yourself of your clothes, hands moving as slowly and purposefully as his own would, as if by instinct. Just like a doll would be, you undressed to nothing but a pair of delicate lace panties, and you took your place at the vanity, your posture straight and your hands folded neatly in your lap.

All there was left to do now was wait for Leon, to stare at yourself blankly in the mirror and ruminate, to let your thoughts scream and echo around in your head until it would all collapse into silence, putting you in the proper headspace of an empty-headed little Barbie for Leon to play with.

You didn’t so much as flinch at the sound of the garage door opening, or move a muscle at all at the muffled thudding of his footsteps ascending the stairs. Your lips parted with a slow, deep breath, your posture straightening up one final time before the knob turned, and you watched the door open behind you through the reflection in the mirror.

He looked tired. To be candid, he looked like shit. It was evident he had left immediately from whatever dangerous, world-saving thing he was doing to rush home to you, not taking the time to change or freshen up.

Leon approached you gently, reaching over your shoulder to let his rough fingers cup your neck and throat, tilting your head up just enough to make you look at yourself, and to adjust your posture.

“Such a precious little doll, sitting so pretty for daddy,” He whispered, stooping down to plant a kiss at the crown of your head. His hands smelled like iron and gunpowder, and his breath smelled faintly of malted liquor poorly masked with mint. If only you could have confronted him about it. You just swallowed, staring straight ahead where he was directing your gaze.

Reaching over your shoulder, Leon’s steady hand plucked a detangling brush from the vanity, running his fingers through your hair carefully with his other hand. He felt through the length of your soft locks, mindful as always not to tug at any of the little knots he discovered here and there. Shortly after, he was running the brush through your hair with gentle veneration, delicate, even strokes that nearly threatened to put you to sleep.

Leon watched your expression in the mirror as your lashes fluttered, your head lolling back as if mindlessly chasing the attention. A low chuckle fell from his parted lips. “Feels good, huh? I’ll bet it does. Your hair is so messy, baby… You weren’t playing by yourself all day while daddy was gone, were you?”

He was teasing you. A subtle grin begged to tug at your lips, and you let it. Still, you were sure to shake your head ‘no’-- after all, you couldn’t have him thinking you had taken advantage of his extended absence to be naughty, even if you had been awfully tempted to. 

Carding his fingers through your freshly brushed hair, he hummed in mock consideration for a moment, like he couldn’t decide whether or not he believed you. Finally, he turned you around in your chair to face him, tilting your chin up so he could give you a kiss. “I know my baby would never. Always the perfect princess for me, even when I’m not always the perfect daddy.”

That last part came out a little quieter, like he was ashamed to even say it out loud, but somehow still, it was the loudest part to you. You softened.

He noticed, and he, too, softened. The tension in the air dissipated a bit– it was still somewhere around here, likely waiting right outside the door, but it was no longer actively present, at least. Leon gave you another sweet kiss, this one to your forehead, before gently correcting your posture again.

Pushing your hair back with a soft, fluffy headband, he opened up one of the drawers in the vanity and began to take a few things out. First, a light moisturizer, which he massaged into your skin with a jade roller that was cool to the touch and just as relaxing as always. Your moisturizer was followed by a gentle under-eye balm, a thin layer of primer and a hydrating lip oil.

The way he moved was so fluid, so methodical, like a conductor before an orchestra, and you were his masterpiece. In Leon’s eyes, you might as well have been carved out of the finest, most expensive marble, and you were to be treated no less delicately.

He stepped out just for a moment to wash his hands, a clean slate for the next step of the process, your makeup.

You honestly don’t know how he did it. Judging by some of the techniques and products he would use, you could only guess he must have been doing his research online or something, though where he found the time to do so was another question entirely. His lines weren’t always clean, his blending wasn’t always perfectly smooth, yet somehow you always still felt he’d managed to upstage you with the finished product– perhaps it was because he could see you in a way you couldn’t see yourself.

“Daddy?” You chanced a whisper, but he was quick to press a finger to the plush of your lips, ever so gently.

“Shh… Just sit nice and still for me, alright, sugar?”

You nodded, and he resumed his work with a careful touch.

Soft brushes and plush sponges worked their way around the surface of your face, applying shadow and powders and liner, with Leon holding his breath now and then to ensure a steady hand. Your cheeks were rouged, your lips were glossed, your lashes were carefully curled and it was all topped off with a cooling mist of setting spray and a gentle kiss to the forehead.

“There you are, hm? My beautiful baby dolly,” He mused, reaching forward to tilt your head up by your chin, then to the left, then to the right, checking over his handiwork from every angle. Adding a dash of blush to the tip of your nose, he deemed your makeup complete. “Just perfect.”

Slowly, Leon turned your chair around again, allowing you to look at yourself, and yeah. Wow.

You looked gorgeous, you were glowing even. All of your best features were adorned with purposeful swipes of blush, shade and highlight, your eyes dreamy and sweet, your skin smooth and radiant. He let you look at yourself for a moment, just admiring the expression of awe on you– you were always exceptionally stunning, of course, but you looked all the sweeter in these sacred moments in which you recognized your own beauty.

Leon rested one hand on your shoulder to recapture your attention, his other hand coming forward to stroke your cheek. Your long lashes fluttered as you met his eyes in the mirror, a silent signal that your focus had returned to him. Now the hand that caressed your cheekbone was coming forward to take your own. He helped you up from your seat at the vanity and across the room, to the plush chaise lounge in front of that standing mirror.

The room filled with the quiet noises of rummaging, Leon sifting through drawers and racks of hangers stuffed with what had to have been thousands of dollars worth of designer, a stark contrast to his own attire of largely plain black shirts and jeans that had seen better days.

But you were his princess. Leon was just Leon, and Leon couldn’t possibly deserve as much as a princess.

Turning over his shoulder, Leon approached you with a simple pair of white stockings in hand, sinking to his knees right before the chaise lounge to put them on you. Your ankle looked so slight and delicate in his strong hand as he lifted your leg, drawing a line of kisses up the inside of your calf to follow while he rolled the stocking up higher and higher, until the hem reached just above your knee.

He repeated the action with your other leg, the movement of his hands fluid and practiced, but his breaths were becoming shorter, his kisses a little wetter and needier on your skin. Your own breaths were quickly falling in sync with his own just by watching him dial in on your sex, his calloused hands propping your legs up onto his shoulders so he could shuffle closer.

Gripping you by the hips to angle you up to his liking, he buried his nose into the seat of your thin lace panties and breathed you in deep, as though he were starving for oxygen. The tip of his nose nuzzled forward to brush your panties aside, and just as soon as your slit was bared to him, his tongue was darting out to taste it.

He spread it flat in a slow, languid stripe from your weeping hole all the way to your throbbing clit, his lips closing around the little bundle of nerves to coax it from beneath its hood. You sucked in a breath, your manicured nails printing into the lush material of the furniture you were perched on, trying as hard as you could to keep quiet and still, to allow him to guide you, to play with you as he so desired. Luckily, he wasn’t in too stern of a mood this evening anyway– you weren’t likely to be reprimanded for small errors like that, especially not while he was otherwise occupied.

“Fuck,” He growled lowly into your cunt, leaving white prints where he gripped your pillowy thighs just to ground himself. You could feel his body growing warm as he lost himself in you, lapping up every drop of your arousal with greed. For just a moment, his dilated, denim eyes flicked up to look at you, his rosy cheeks gently squished between your quaking thighs as he puffed out, “Just look at you, my dolly… Daddy’s favorite little toy…”

Your eyes screwed shut with pleasure as his hot mouth met your center again, and when they fluttered open, you caught sight of it all in the mirror. It nearly knocked the wind out of you.

Your dainty legs spread out over your gruff boyfriend’s broad shoulders, adorned in delicate white stockings that looked pure and bright against his tight black t-shirt; his sandy blonde hair damp and messy as he wedged himself between your thighs and drank from you like a fountain; your hair and makeup fit for a gala as your expression contorted with rapture… it could have been an oil painting.

Every swipe of his tongue up the length of you, every flutter along your swollen bud, every deep, wanton, needy groan had your eyes rolling back in your head, your thighs trembling and tightening around his jaw. Every inch of you felt featherlight with electricity as he worked his magic on you, more than capable of making you cum in three minutes flat, but opting not to for the fun of it.

Not that you were complaining. At times he could get carried away in his teasing, but tonight was not one of those nights. Leon wasn’t going to waste your time dangling you over the edge much longer than was strictly necessary. As soon as he noticed you were having trouble sitting still, quiet whines and sighs of pleasure occasionally slipping out from between your glossy lips, he knew it would be unfair to string you along any further.

Leon was practically making out with your folds, the room quiet aside from the slick sounds and lustful whimpers that accompanied his dining of you. Soon it was joined with the low, husky timbre of his voice as he groaned into you, “Gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna make a pretty mess all over daddy’s face?”

In all honesty, you barely registered his words, but all it ever took to get you nodding like a bobblehead was that upward lilt in his tone that indicated he was asking you something. That was all you needed to know that the correct answer was yes.

Smirking briefly to himself as he witnessed your eager and rapt approval, he doubled the intensity of his efforts, his hands wrenching tight into your thighs to pull you flush against his face, but more importantly, to keep you from wriggling away. He didn’t bother to shush you when a shocked yelp bubbled out of you, your body jerking in response to the added stimulation. After all, it was the response he was expecting, and the response he yearned for.

Your shaking hands darted forward to claw at his hair, half-lidded eyes catching your reflection in the mirror once more. Your skin was warm, your breasts heaving as your spine drew into a fine arch and your lips parted to gasp in all the oxygen you could get to your dizzy brain, heels digging into the prominent muscles in his back. He felt every quiver and twitch of your muscles and it only spurred him on. He ate you up like you were his last meal.

Your vision went white as your climax crashed over you hard– the sounds he made were obscene, a satisfied groan vibrating from deep in his chest at the syrupy sweet taste of your arousal. It was an essence he couldn’t possibly get enough of.

As you laid there panting, your legs shaking after the tension in them released, Leon’s eyes dragged up the length of your body with pride. He carefully pulled your panties back into place with a sweet kiss to the bow in the center of them and an affectionate pat to the thigh. 

“There’s a good girl,” He hummed, crawling up from between your legs to kiss you, his mouth still warm and slightly slick with your own spend. “A perfect little doll. All I have to do is pull the right strings to get you to sing for me, huh, princess?”

Once more, you nodded, eyes fluttering shut just for a moment as he kissed your forehead. Then, he stood to his full height again, one hand taking yours and the other steadying you by the dip of your waist as he raised you up to join him, wobbly knees be damned. After all, he wasn’t finished playing dress-up yet. He took a moment to ensure you had regained your balance enough to be able to stand without assistance before opening up one of the wardrobes in search of the remainder of your outfit.

Moments like these only piqued your curiosity in terms of how his brain worked. Sure, you’d been dating for a long time and it was safe to say you knew him quite well, but his penchant for compartmentalization never ceased to astound you. He possessed the sometimes frightening ability to just switch his brain from one mode to the next.

You were brought back to reality once more by the feeling of his lips on your neck. He murmured into your ear, “Arms up, darlin’,” and he barely even finished saying it before you were complying.

You lifted your arms, and he slipped a new dress over your head. There it was, the compensation for being home late, for dropping off the face of the Earth again. The dress was flattering and soft, a delicate blush pink color with embroidered details along the bust and white lace hemming. He drew up the zipper without resistance, and as it reached its apex, the fabric hugged your form perfectly, as though the garment itself was made with you in mind.

Leon kneeled down to straighten out your stockings, and then the skirt of your dress, his eyes scanning over you meticulously in search of any little imperfections that might need fixing. Finding none, he wandered over to where he’d left his jacket, fishing a baby blue box out of the pocket. You had become quite familiar with that blue lately– Tiffany.

Nestled in the slender box was a dainty diamond necklace that now rested right at your collarbones, the clasp in the back secured with a smooch. He carded his fingers through your hair one last time before turning you around to look at yourself in the mirror, his hands rested on your hips, head stooped low to smother the crook of your throat in kisses.

“What do you think?” He whispered in your ear, nibbling gently at the shell.

“Beautiful,” You replied just as quietly, “Thank you, daddy.”

[st4rtar0t]

Your love story and the movie it resembles

With your future partner

ever wondered how would your love story be with your future spouse? and what movie would it be similar to? I will be honest as someone who romanticizes love this question as kept me awake on many nights and has made me daydream a lot. SO as a result I have decided to make a pac on this topic. I hope you enjoy this reading and support my blog so that I can come up with more interesting pick a cards.

These pictures belong to their rightful owners.

please like and reblog, I worked hard on this one

Picture 1

Okay so as soon as i started this reading i got the message that most people who chose this picture may not have had an actual relationship in a sense that you might have felt as if something was always lacking or you may not have been treated right in a relationship. And i do see that you have a unexplainable fear that maybe the person you will fall in love with wont fall for you? or you may doubt their affection for you as you seem to have severe trust issues. You may be the kind of person who doubts love but is also dreaming about it. you may show as if you don't believe in love or that money matters more for you but you know deep down that is not true.

I also sense that this group is divided into two subgroups as this group seem to have two similar yet different love stories.

group one : you guys may be a Virgo, cancer or Sagittarius sun moon or rising. You guys can have medium to short curly hair. you may have a mole on your arm or right shoulder. You may have a small friend group consisting 3-4 people including you. one of your friends can be of different race or religion. Some of you may be in high school or 1st-2nd year of collage. Pumpkin and grapes may be significant for you.

your love story : There may be a sense of "saving the other" in your love story. you know how a person is suffering and the other person comes into their life and saves them that is the vibe that I am getting from your love story. Your future spouse may enter you life when you will be dire need of help or when you will be suffering or vice versa. You may be the damsel in distress, but i see that You wont ask your future spouse for help intentionally. You are someone who wont ask for help no matter how much they are suffering and your future spouse is someone who WANTS to help other no matter what but they have been used by a lot of people because of this. They are well aware of the fact that people only approach them because of their personal benefit and this makes them quite upset. But but but i also sense that they would want to help not financially but emotionally. They would want to help you with everything they can and this may be the one of the majors reasons why you will fall for them. They will help you find purpose in your life again. They will make you fall in love with life.

SO the movie that resembles your love story is EK VILLAIN. This is an Indian movie and I would suggest you to watch it. i wont spoil it for you if you have not watched it yet, but leave out the parts that don't resonate with you.

Group two : You guys can be a Taurus, Leo or Aries sun moon or rising. you may have a mole of your back or on one side of your neck. You guys may have long dark hair or dark brown hair that reaches past your armpits. You may have a fear of lizards or any kind of reptile. i sense that some of you may be studying business or you plan to start you own soon? You may have gold jewellery that you wear regularly.

Your love story : As I said earlier both these groups will have a similar yet different love story and the sense of "saving the other" is also present in this group but the only difference is that you will be the one who will save your future spouse/partner. They may be really popular or into music because i see that they have a good singing voice. You guys can also work in the same field or profession. I see that you guys will encourage them to give their best when they may feel low or when they may doubt themselves. I see that you will be their biggest supporter and this will make them fall deeper for you. They will admire how passionate you are about what you do. If you are in a creative field, they may use you as their muse. I also sense that they will be writing songs and poems for you because they seem to have a talent for writing. You guys will work together and earn a lot of money and fame.

So the movie that resembles your love story is AASHIQUI 2. This movies was released in 2013.

Noticed how the actress in both the movies is same? so you may have something in common with her.

Masterlist PAID SERVICES

Picture 2

This is the group of misunderstood people lol. I see that people always try to find flaws in you or blame you for the things that have nothing to do with you. But i also sense that you someone who jumps into conclusions and overthinks their situation. Things may not be as they appear. You are someone who has lost a lot of people that were close to you and you don't want to go through the same pain again, so as a result you have put a wall between you and other. And now you don't care if people misunderstand you or spread rumours about you. I also sense that you are independent, you don't like asking anyone for help, You would rather do the things by yourself than ask for help.

Okay so for the people who chose this picture I see that and your future partner may not have a good first impression of each other or there may be some past experiences that you both share that are not so ideal. Or you guys may meet in an environment that is not to ideal for a first meeting? but whatever it may be I sense that you guys will remember your first meeting and laugh out loud.

Do you guys have a one sided love story or have you ever been in this situation? because I see that most of you have liked somebody who already had a girlfriend/boyfriend or somebody they were talking to OR I see that you had a huge crush on one of your friends and he/she were already into somebody so you thought is would be better to forget them.

I am getting friends to strangers to friends to lovers. Its really complex and complicated. But yes it seems as if somebody else was involved in your love story and no I am not talking about third party situation. its more of a "yes I like this person and I am talking to them" from their side and "you are my friend and I like you but wont tell you because you like somebody else so I wont tell you" OR "yes I like you but wont tell you because I don't want to ruin our friendship" from your side. But I sense that they will realise their feelings a lot later and when you wont be talking to them. I also sense that you may move away from them to forget them or you may even move to another country for job or education.

But we all know how the universe works in strange ways that you may have never considered. So you will end up meeting them again but in a different way as compared to before. And they will be the one to express their love for you and will do everything to win your heart.

So the movie that resembles your love story is KUCH KUCH HOTA HAI and a little bit of DDLJ. Both these movies have the same acter and actress. But the plot is not same its similar with slightly different storyline.

Masterlist

Picture 3

Some of you may also be interested in Picture 1

Are you sure you are interested in this love reading? because your energy is telling me otherwise. I am shocked to see you reading this because it seems as you are starting to hate the word love, and honestly I don't think you are at fault because if I was going through the same things that you have been through/are going through, I would hate it too. You have experienced love and I am not talking about romantic love, I am talking about platonic love. The kind of love you are supposed to receive from your family and friends. And now as a result of that, your perception of love is completely messed up.

But I have a good news for you, you have been blessed in money sector of your life and this abundance in money sector will be the love you yearn for. Now you are only focusing on your work and career, you are taking all the required steps to achieve your dreams and goals. And while you are focused on this sector of your life you wont notice how the universe will bless your love life with a partner that will move mountain for you. And the most beautiful thing is, YOU NEVER HAD TO ASK FOR IT. yes there were times when you cried yourself to sleep because you could not feel loved but unknowingly it all made you stronger.

Now lets talk about your love story with your future, So as I have already talked about how you will meet them when you will focusing on yourself and your dreams. And I also see that they will be the first one to fall in love and realise their feelings. And the most interesting thing is they will make all the efforts needed to prove their love for you. They wont approach you with a love offer first and wont shove their feelings into your face as in "Hey i love you, lets get married" no it wont be like that, in fact they will approach with the offer you helping you or being your friend first. They will admire how sweet and caring you are despite the things you have been through, You will fill them with inspiration and hope that there are still nice people in this world who make this world a better place with their existence. They will support you in you work and offer new ideas. Some of you are really intuitive so you will know who person may be or will be. Your future partner will admire the way you handle tough situations and problems thrown your way with ease. You are someone with hard exterior and really soft interior and this will intrigue your future partner as it is really hard to find genuine people with good intentions these days.

You love story gives me the trope of black cat and golden retriever energy with you being the black cat here and them being the golden retriever. Its honestly so cute!! and I am so happy for you guys. You guys deserve the world. okie I think i am getting distracted, so lets get back to the reading, Your love story will be something that will remind people of a fairy-tale.

So the movie/movies that resemble your love story is RAMAIYA VASTAVAIYA 2013 and GHAJINI 2008. Yes as i said this wont resonate 100% with your love story but there will be similarities.

Masterlist

[stall1iion]

champions love - six

liked by maxverstappen1, logansargeant, bsf1, bsf2, and many others 

y/n.jpg nice to be back home for the weekend

tagged: bsf1, bsf2

view all comments

logansargeant happy fourth y/n 💀🤣

⤷y/n.jpg Logan! Pull up man

⤷logansargeant am I being invited to the cookout?

⤷y/n.jpg I- 💀🤣sure Logan, just text me 

bsf1 we look so hot omg 😍🥵

⤷y/n.jpg we do 🤭

⤷bsf2 was that even a question? 🤭🤭

lilymhe 😔i miss you wifey  

⤷y/n.jpg i miss you too! Don’t worry I’ll be back next week 🫶🏾

⤷alexalbon um? Wifey? 😐

⤷y/n.jpg call me Mr. Steal your bitch 😋

maxverstappen1 will you bring me back some food? 

⤷y/n.jpg so needy 🙄😂 yeah I’ll bring you a plate but you do know you could just come? 

⤷maxverstappen1 oh- you so right 

username5 happy Fourth of July Y/n! 

username9 omg will we potentially get pictures of Logan finally being around people who care about him? 

⤷username12 💀moot what you being messy for? 

username7 stop this friend group is so hot and for what? 

liked by maxverstappen1, logansargeant, f1wags, and many others

y/n.jpg no one told me I would be dealing with two unhinged blondes 😭😞free me 

tagged: bsf1, bsf2, logansargeant 

view all comments 

bsf2 we are not unhinged 

⤷logansargeant agreed 😁

⤷bsf1 yes you two are 

⤷y/n.jpg you both decided it would be a good idea to climb into a baby swing and got stuck 💀😐

⤷logansargeant that did not happen?? 

⤷y/n.jpg tell that to the fire station that cut you out 💀

username4 omg 🤣he actually pulled up 

maxverstappen1 help is on the way dear!! 

⤷y/n.jpg did you just 😍quote a meme to me 🤭

⤷logansargeant oh good god 💀plz keep this pg 13 there’s kids on here 

⤷y/n.jpg girl…fuck them kids 🤭and fuck you too 🖕🏾

username7 and where’s max? Like how is some guy who can't even drive around my girl alone?

⤷username88 ooo yeah it's giving insecure, good luck to any person you date

username76 are we just going to ignore that Logan and Ashley got stuck in a baby swing 💀

⤷username103 and the fire department had to cut them out 💀

⤷logansargeant yes

⤷bsf2 yes we are

username9 see if I was max i wouldn’t let some guy be all cozy with my girl like that 

⤷username5 friend what are you talking about? What cozying you see bc i see logan getting cozy with Ashley if that’s what you mean 

username2 so um, anyone else getting chemistry from Logan and her best friend??

⤷username10 oh my god yes, thank you, I thought I was the only one 😭

⤷username23 stop 😵i hope not, they lowkey look like siblings 

⤷username55 STOP WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT LMAO??

53,351 likes 

y/n.jpg Proud to have introduced the boys to the y/n version of 7/4 🫡happy 7/4 to america 💋

view all comments 

username7 NOT AMERICAN BUT HAPPY 4TH OF JULY! 

username9 not the max picture cuz ppl was talking shit on the last photo 💀

⤷username2 logan looks like he’s either third wheeling or being babysat 💀😂

username10 HAPPY 7/4

username4 HAPPY 7/4

username33 HAPPY 7/4

username69 HAPPY 7/4

username74 HAPPY 7/4

username99 RAWWWW 🦅HAPPY INDEPENDENCE TO THE BEST COUNTRY 

⤷username98 they gon get you girl but real💀

bsf1 AHHH WE LOOK SO GOOD IN THE LAST PHOTO, W AURAAAAAA

bsf2 WHERE ARE YOU?? WE’RE TRYING TO TAKE A TRIO PIC WITH THE FIREWORKS?? 

⤷bsf1 OH MY GOD TURN AROUND!!! 

⤷username77 WHAT’S GOING ON?? WHAT ARE WE MISSING?? 

⤷username61 SHOW IT TO US PLEASE!! SHOW IT TO US RACHEL! 

caption: look at these lovebirds over here 💀

⤷bsf1 she’s gonna kill you once she sees this 

⤷bsf2 she was the one who kissed him 💀and she can’t even lie and say she was possibly drunk this time 

⤷bsf2 miss “I don’t date drivers” 

comments 

F1lover stop ✋ maybe she’s just busy and will fly in the day of the race

loveuy/n she looks good tho 😭what was she even doing??

lo3vmax maybe she has practice? 

⤷mrssainz yeah but max hasn’t said anything about her not coming yet 

y/nhater I don’t know maybe she finally realized their little pr relationship isn’t working anymore 

winter<3 she looks really hungover, maybe she was waiting before flying so she wouldn’t have to deal with that

→ DUH DUH DUH!!! We have names for our best friends now! 💀(I did not mean for that to happen lol) 

→ If you want, we can vote on the other best friend’s name! Send in a request for names and we can poll!! 

Anyways back to normal programing 

→ Yes the cookout is a reference to a black cookout but you can take that as a normal bbq 

→ Logan x Ashley? 👀we’ll see 

→ Logan is officially a part of the gang yay!!  

→ Yes, Y/N did in fact block Max after the kiss (she left immediately and screamed in her pillow for at least 30 minutes) 

→ Is Y/n going to Silverstone?? I guess we’ll never know…..jk you’ll know in the next chapter mwah 💋

Author’s note! 

I finished this up faster than I thought I would 💀I originally planned to wait till July 4th to actually post this but then I was like…nahhhh next chapter will have the race, max and y/n talking (more denial yay! 😁) I now get why writers love the good old miscommunication, it’s so much fun to write 😈 

taglist: @boiohboii @ale-522 @ietss @theseerbetweenus @jaxx-7 @sainzluvrr @the-untamed-soul @ashy-kit @hc-dutch @nichmeddar @delululeclerc @sweate-r-weathe-r @dhanihamidi @tellybearryyyy @luvsforme @samantha-chicago @theblueblub

༉‧₊˚  CHAMPIONS LOVE ༉‧₊˚

⤷ Following the messy breakup between Max Verstappen and Kelly Piquet, Max’s manager comes up with a solution to divert the attention – a fake relationship. His new girlfriend? Two time olympic gold medalist figure skater, y/n for the USA team. Easy? Well…

[thatnonameuser]

A Wonderland Of Yanderes

Intro, Part 1,Part 3 here Tagging for the first time @blue-rae18 Minors DNI Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Rape and Non-con but it's a subtle.

You'd bitten your tongue bloody all the way through Crewel's opening lecture. There were so many questions. So many sick and twisted answers.

One class filled you with so much dread

A class about kidnapping, murder and brainwashing some poor innocent soul into Stockholm Syndrome. All shoved underneath the the guise of true love.

A 'darling', the name for someone who was the object of a yandere's unwanted affection. An innocent who spend the rest of their lives living in fear, while someone smothers and controls them with their obsessive love against their will.

And this is all being taught and treated as a normal.

As if it's fine to take someone hostage because you love them.

As if it's fine to kill someone they love if you love them more.

As if it's fine to do unspeakable acts to them and their bodies against their will.

With how much nausea and bile coursing through your stomach and throat it was a miracle you didn't throw in the middle of the lecture.

But that's not what scared you.

What scared you was how bored Ace was as Crewel spoke, how enraptured Deuce looked as he heard about this. How curious some of the other students were about the methods they could use to steal innocent people from their homes, families and lives. How excited some were hearing about some of the ways they would learn about the ways they would use to break the desire for freedom in their future 'partners'.

It was terrifying.

That your friends would kill for someone they love.

Would they kill you?

You don't want to think about that right now. Right now, you needed answers. Fast.

"Crowley! Crowley I need to talk to you!" You shout as you storm in Crowley's office. As soon as the lecture ended you got the hell out of dodge and headed straight to Crowley's office, ready to demand answers.

The door opens to reveal a smiling Crowley, but that doesn't soothe your nerves. "Ah! My dear, what has your feathers ruffled?"

You swallow roughly, "Crowley.......Why didn't you tell me about the fact that I could be........legally murdered here?!"

He tilts his head, "Oh. That must've slipped my mind." You look at him, bewildered.

"I could-" Crowley interrupts you.

"Fear not though. As I am gracious, I already have ensured that will not happen!"

You want to feel relief but you can't, instead suspicion fills you.

"H-How?" According to Crewel's lecture only one crime wasn't pardoned. Darling Murder, and you weren't a darling. You got here on accident and you're not apart of this world so there's no way-

"Crewel was kind enough to inform me of your reaction to his lecture, and I've seen you this past week, how you've tamed your fiery little familiar so quickly." The smile he makes while he speaks fills you with fear, "Only darlings act the way you do~"

"What?"

"As a result, I've had you registered as Darling on and off this island. No one will raise a hand against you." He pauses, "At least not enough to kill you," he laughs at that.

"B-but I'm not from here! What if someone tries to kidnap me, or drug me, or....anything else!? I have a family, friends, and a life back in my home world!" You reason, but Crowley just laughs.

"Ah, the usual darling spiel~ Fear not, I will continue to find a way for you to return home." You feel a sigh of relief bubble into your throat, but before you can release it, what Crowley says next makes your blood freeze.

"But if someone takes you as their own, I cannot and will not try to intervene."

"What!? B-but-"

"I'm afraid after someone stakes their claim, a duel must be done to relinquish that claim to another. You must understand, it would be such a hassle to do every time someone stakes their claim."

"W-wait a second-"

"Of course, I'll leave a way for you to return to your world, but whether you're allowed to leave is another story. You must understand."

"I-I didn't ask to be here, Crowley, you c-can't just-"

"My dear, perhaps the reason the carriage came for you in the first place was for you to belong to another here. Regardless of how you feel about it, my and your hands are tied."

"B-But-"

"Oh, and I should give you fair warning. Many of our students are well aware on the traits a darling like you tend to have. Some may already have their eye on you. Your little friends Ace and Deuce seem to."

You're stunned silent. Ace and Deuce might be, what?

"Y-You're lying...." you whisper.

"I'm afraid not, but as I am gracious I'll inform the ghosts in Ramshackle to keep an eye out for you. They seem to have taken a shine onto you." Why because, you lived with them or because they're obsessed with you too?

What's wrong with this world?

[santrrl]

Logan Howlett with Metalhead!reader, face piercings, tattoos, dark clothes - the whole get up.

i need grumpy x sunshine too, like reader actually being a cute little thing :')

L.H X METAL!HEAD READER

Author says; Thank you so much for your request!! I love doing them,l so this is gonna be the first of a few hopefully !<3 I LOVE this idea, and thus this is gonna be so fun to write !! HEHEHEHEH

The first and second part are split between bullet points, and then the actual story so i hope i got this right!! I'm so sorry if I didn't as i have only seen few x-men and dp+w, so i apologise if it's not good!!

BULLETS :

-Once he meets you at first he physically stops. Like, physically, shuts down for a moment.

-Bro was born in 1832, and somehow, this was his first time seeing so much piercings in so many...visible places. He was fine with ears, as long as it wasn't too bad, but more than three? He's gonna shake his head like a dad and shrug it off.

-At first he would probably think you're some emo, hormonal meanie, so when he finally takes a jab at you, he stops dead AGAIN. You? You wearing layer after layer of black n white are more energetic than he thought? What?

-at some point during your years of knowing each other, of course youre gonna be in his contacts. He never saw ':3' before, but..you learn something new every day.

-The first time he sees so many tats on one limb, he doesn't know whether to be amazed or turned on. So he opted for both.

-"Hey, you okay?" He'd smell the freshness of your new tats, and always find a way to let them be a excuse for him to talk to you.

-You look so....different, so mean, yet, you're so nice? He couldn't understand it. He loved being mean to the people that deserved it, why you felt bad and guilty? Over his head. But the pure fact you looked like a meanie, but weren't? God he wanted to destroy you.

FIC; (Kinda? Im so sorry if its bad, not correlating to the above)

"Welcome to Charles Xavier's school for gifted youngsters. I am Charles, by the way." The man in front of you would grin, opening the doors to the busy entrance. Some students were walking, others chatting and others were showing off their mutations.

"This is where you'll be spending, ah, the majority of your time." Charles grinned, snatching a paper plane out of the air. "Easy, Rodger." He smiled at the boy, who flushed red. As quickly as he turned red, he also turned as white as your eye shadow. And blush. And everything else that you had on that was white currently.

He quickly scurried off, whispering to his friends. "They'll get used to you in time. They think you're cool." Charles chuckled. As you made your way through the tour of the school, you eventually landed back to where you had started. "Any questions?" Charles asked innocently.

"I got one. The fuck Casper the ghost doin' here?" A gruff voice perked up, as I looked behind Charles. The man coming down the stairs practically had a halo on him with the way he had descended the staircase, white wife beater stained from God only knows what.

"Logan." Charles warned. "This is Logan, Logan, this is our newest addition." He introduced. "Keep this one away from magneto, all those piercings." He grimaced. "Oh, my god hi! I've seen so much of you! You're so cool my family adores you so much-"

Logan was confused. He didn't know what to be more confused about, the fact you looked so mean but were sweet, or the fact your rambling went on for eighteen minutes. He wasn't mad about it though. If anything it was...pleasant?

After a few days at the mansion, seeing what you could do, you ironically became quick friends with the rugged man. Even people who had never seen him smile were asking you what it was like. The press had deemed you two - 'Bumblebee team.' Mainly due to your black attire, and his majority yellow view.

And also because it sounded like grumble and hee, implying his grumpy nature and your happy outlook. The media seemed to love you more than hate you however, the nickname ghost, and vampire among others being thrown around, alongside your chosen name.

It only took a few months before the man found himself being more attached. Demanding he be with you on missions, protecting you at all cost, it only took so much in him to not flip you under him when he saw how truly tatted up you were, when after a fight majority of your costume had ripped.

He even went to such lengths as waiting for you every morning to walk you to breakfast, lunch, whatever. "Bub can't the makeup wait?'' He'd sigh, before turning around, already knowing he wasn't winning this fight as your music played in the background, drowning out the sound of a shoe hitting him.

Eventually, he got so fed up of waiting at one point, he just leaned over your desk, and wiped your lips with his thumb, before kissing you and walking away, obviously making you follow. "Just a way to make you hurry up." He'd laugh. LIES.

Those kisses eventually led to heated makeouts, and safe to say, you'd be fixing your makeup more than a few times a day.

IM SO SORRY IF ITS BAD LEMME KNOW AND ILL REWRITE <33

[incorrectbatfam]

Types of obnoxious batfam stans

Written by an obnoxious batfam stan

Not really a rant but something I've noticed over the years interacting in different spaces and I've decided to make your problem now.

Please note that I'm not saying there's any "right" way to be a fan because we all suck by virtue of being comic nerds, but there are certain kinds of batfamily fans that stick out to be in particular.

Anywho, here are 12 kinds of annoying batfam stans that you've probably run into and you better get a laugh out of it *points gun to your head*.

1) The Newbies Who Never Heard of Google

There's no shame in being new to something. It's a phase that we're all guaranteed to go through, whether we're 11 or 101. However, in this day and age, so many things can be easily googled that you don't need to shout every question you have into the VVorld VVide VVoid. If you need comic recs or a reading list, google it. If you wanna know a character's origin story, google it. If you need to know the color of Batman's underpants in a particular issue in 1965... well that's probably too specific for Google but Reddit will definitely have an answer.

2) The Middle School Authors

Before the 13-year-olds get up in my notes, I'm not saying everyone that age writes like this. Middle school is a state of mind. These fanfic writers usually stand out in a few ways.

They're oftentimes first-person POV or reader-insert. Give Y/N a break, she's tired.

The grammar is stunningly atrocious. I get if you're inexperienced or if you're writing in a second language, but we are in the prime era of autocorrect. If you need help, it's right there. Also, fuck c*nsoring b*d w*rds and fuck "unalive."

The characters do things that are out-of-character because the author is projecting their own personality. Bruce Wayne is a lot of things but he does not listen to the fucking Mountain Goats.

There's a lack of experience or research when it comes to certain topics. That's not how physics works. He can't walk that injury off. And that's definitely NOT how you do the horizontal hokey pokey.

3) The Neckbeards

Unfortunately, these basement-dwelling mouth-breathers tainted the image of what a comic fan is, though that's been changing recently. Still, we've all seen them. They gatekeep via pop quizzes, 'cause obviously you're not a real fan unless you know what page 10 of Batman #138 smells like. They give unsolicited commentary on people's cosplays, nitpicking the guys and being gross toward women. And heaven forbid the comics add a little diversity.

4) The Moviegoers

Nothing inherently wrong with getting into the fandom via the movies, nor is there anything wrong with sticking to that. I just feel like we're two different species of Galapagos finches, you know?

5) The Christopher Nolans

Separate from casual fans of the Nolan movies. I'm calling them the Christopher Nolans because these people have a tendency to reach for the grimdarkest thing possible. It's like they cannot fathom Batman having any other emotions besides punching and gargoyle brooding.

6) The Canon Purists

Wanna share a fun headcanon? NO, because Stephanie Brown never used cherry lip balm in the comics so therefore that must be the absolute truth. These people are a stickler for comic accuracy to the point where it's like... why bother interacting with the fandom in the first place? The worst part is when they're adamant on following a single continuity and refuse to consider anything else. This is comics we're talking about. Everything either has been or will be canon at some point.

7) The Fanon Worshippers

On the opposite end of the spectrum, we have the people who base their entire perception of the characters on something either they pulled out of their ass or that their mutual with 16 followers came up with, despite evidence directly contradicting it. I love WFA, but I feel like that's partially responsible for further perpetuating certain popular myths. Also, these fans tend to focus solely on the batfam/their ships. It's one thing to have some people in the foreground vs. background, but put some respect to Bart Allen's name you goddamn cheesecakes.

8) The Golden Age Dads

These guys aren't really obnoxious. I actually find it kind of cute how they think Jason Todd is still dead.

9) The Chronically Online

I have a rule of thumb when it comes to discourse: if it's not something I'd hear about at a bar, it's not worth my mental energy. Some people haven't gotten the memo, though.

These are either the well-intentioned but misinformed teenagers or grown-ass adults beefing with children because they don't have a life. They have takes that are oversimplified, rage-inducing, TikTok algorithm attention-grabbers that no one cares about in real life.

Don't get me wrong, we've got a bunch of issues in comics and fandom that are worth discussing. However, there comes a point where you're splitting hairs and need to go the fuck outside. I'm not gonna link the post 'cause I don't wanna call them and their 7 notes out, but the other week I saw someone saying Stephcass was a racist ship because something something colonialism parallel. You gotta be Elastigirl to have that kind of reach.

10) The Corporate Simps

I love comics. I appreciate the writers and artists. However, you will find my carcass in a ditch before you catch me licking the boots of DC/Warner Bros. Basically, these fans, fewer as they are, can't seem to fathom that their favorite franchise can (and does) put out some steaming motherfucking garbage.

11) The Hot Cosplayers

Not actually annoyed, I'm just a little jealous. Stop being hotter than me, please and thank you.

12) The One With A Punchline For Everything

Wait–

[bbyquokka]

fizzy pop

– yn has a habit of bottling up their emotions, chan comforts them & explains the importance of communicating about feelings/emotions.

pairing | bang chan x gender neutral reader

genre | angst w comfort – 18+ is strongly advised!

cw | established relationship, mental health (low moods, low/no motivation, lose of interest in hobbies/things), pet names.

words | 2k ~ ( 2,042 )

notes | idk why but i've been putting off on posting this for months, maybe bc im nervous 🤔 don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

m.list — wips list — you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

it's just another day. another day of just being there. another day of feeling like you have no purpose in life except to please others. another day of wondering “what is the purpose of me being here?” you fake smiles, say you're "ok" because saying how you actually feel is exhausting.

aside from it feeling exhausting, you also don't want to draw attention to yourself and when you do speak, you feel stupid for doing so, so you keep it all in, bottle it up until it's too much for you to handle. some days you wonder why you even bother to get out off bed.

is it because of the birds you hear outside? the sun's heat that you want to feel on your skin? could it be the laughter and chitter chatter of others? or maybe you want to hear the rain on the leaves–who knows. all you know is that everyday is the same and it's tiring.

the days merge into one. what day is it even? monday? tuesday? oh wait, it's saturday morning. time doesn't exist anymore. in your mind you see no point in getting up out of bed because again, what's the point? 

so why is it that your boyfriend is gently shaking you, asking, no, begging you to get up.

“darlin'. please get up.” chan whispers as he gently shakes you by the shoulders. you sigh deeply, a tired sigh that causes chan to swallow and his suspicions to come to light.

you pull the duvet over your head, body curled in a small and fragile ball. the curtains are still drawn providing darkness despite the morning rays that wish to peak inside. 

chan has been up since the crack of dawn. he has showered, made breakfast and managed to get dressed. he gave you some extra time to sleep in because he knows you're not a morning person but when the number nine on his watch turned to twelve and you're still not up and out, does he grow concerned.

he's had his suspicions for a while. he's noticed how defeated you sound. how there is little to no energy in the words you speak. he's tried everything to cheer you up, thinking, hoping you were just having an off day. but that off day turned into an off week which slowly, but surely, turned into an off month.

you lost your passion for being creative, lost the will to make anything which you despise. being creative is one of the many pleasures you have in life, to be able to make something and share your creations with others is exhilarating but when you feel like this, your mood turns bitter and cold towards everything you do which results in you resenting everything you create.

you lost the energy to speak to people. to pick up the phone and just talk. you're not deliberately ignoring nor trying to be difficult but keeping conversations flowing is just too hard right now and when you think they're giving you the same energy back do you feel so guilty. 

what have i done to deserve this? why am i forced to feel like this. you find yourself questioning everything late at night. your head loud as soon as it hits the pillow and no amount of music you blast down your ears can silence those thoughts.

everything is so exhausting. everything is the same. you just want to disappear whether that be for a few days or forever, you're not quite sure, but certain people around you wont allow that to happen. they are keeping you afloat, head above water. you desperately and silently wish they never let you go, no matter how hard you fight and push them away.

“baby, please.” chan's words dripped with desperation. his knees on the bed behind you as he kneels causing the mattress to dip. his hands on your shoulders gently as his eyes bore into the duvet, burning holes into it until he is burning holes into you. tears threaten to spill down his soft cheeks as he becomes increasingly worried for you.

“chan..“ you whisper, your words shaking. “please.. leave me alone.” 

he swallows. those three last words he hates to hear. now he is left in a difficult position. should he do as you say and leave you? leave you to fester and rot in your own thoughts and feelings. watch you melt into the mattress and become nothing but a lifeless shell. or should he force himself, force you to acknowledge him. show you, tell you that's it's going to be ok–even if you don't believe him in the beginning.

but this is chan and you know more than anyone how stubborn chan can be.

“lets go take a shower yn, together! and maybe we can go out and get lunch at that café you love so much?”

silence. 

“or how about we go to that art shop! pick up those water colours you've been eyeing up for months?”

silence.

“ok well, what about some new cloth–”

“chan please!” you snap, causing him to jump. “what part of leave me alone don't you understand?!”

you don't mean to sound harsh and you hope chan doesn't take it to heart. the last thing you want is to hurt the one person you adore so much. luckily, chan knows you don't mean it but it doesn't hurt him any less.

“all of it.” he softly speaks. you feel the weight being lifted up off the mattress and footsteps against the wood flooring before the bedroom door squeaks open at the hinges.

your heart breaks. hot angry tears finally being set free and rolling down the bridge of your nose and cheeks, soaking into the material of your pillow. you sob, curling up into a ball even more as your heart aches in your chest. you grip onto the pillow as you silently cry out for chan, thinking he has completely left you alone.

but you did ask for it so why do you feel so guilty?

the duvet gets pulled back from you, the cold air hitting your hot and sweaty skin. the mattress dips once again as an arm snakes over your midriff. chest being pressed against your back as chan spoons you.

“don't cry, darlin'. i'm here, your channie is here.” his soft words provide you with a sense of comfort and an indescribable feeling of warmth as well as relief. his hand strokes your soft stomach, his lips kissing your neck so tenderly you worry that he isn't really there. 

“c-chan…” you sob through your words as a way of confirmation. you can't breathe, the pain of everything that's built up over the past months is making it impossible for you to breathe. your mind fogs over as your chest heaves up and down.

you struggle to take breaths as tears stream down your face. your pillow becomes soaked with your tears. chan strokes your unwashed hair gently, hushing you and singing softly to help ground you.

“sh sh sh. you're ok, you're safe.” he whispers.

“sorry! i'm sorry!” you repeat over and over again in your fits of tears. chan continues to hush you, noticing that it's not working so he gently rolls you over to face him and pulls you into his naked chest. 

the warmth and softness of his skin calms you down in an instant. his natural scent hugs your nostrils and sinks into your heart, soothing your heartbeat as well as your mind. you grip onto him, desperately trying to cling onto something before resulting in wrapping your arms around him tightly. 

he gives you a bear hug. arms around your shoulders gently, fingers raking and massaging your scalp. his chest wet with tears as he continues to hush you through your episode.

there isn't much he can do when you're crying like this except wait. wait for it to pass–and it does, fifteen minutes later.

“better?” he gently asks. you peer up at him to notice that his own cheeks are wet with a few tears slowly falling.

“you're crying..” you whisper as you reach up and wipe the tears away. chan laughs softly before leaning into your touch. “why?”

“because it pains me to see you like this, my love.” that guilt comes back, settling in your stomach and wrapping itself around your heart, like black fog. you look down, tears falling from your lower lash line.

“sorry..” you mumble.

“hey.” chan unwraps his arms from you to gently lift up your head. “it hurts because i can't do anything about it. it hurts because i love you! seeing you in so much pain is rough darling. and it's not physical pain either, it's not like i can put a band aid on your wound.”

“i'm sorry i'm like this, chan. sorry i'm so difficult and such a disappointment.”

“oi.” his tone of voice turns stern which causes you to look up at him. his brows furrowed together as he reaches and strokes your cheek. “you're not a disappointment or difficult baby. it's ok to feel like this, to have off days and feel like nothing is right, however, you have to come to me when you feel like this! or if you can't come to me, talk to a friend.”

“but i hate talking about my feelings, chan.. i feel like a burden and that it just bores people and when i do confined in people, it feels like i don't get the comfort i expect to get so i'm left thinking if it's worth it and if i just expect too much from people.”

“what have i told you about bottling things up, mhm?”

“that it's just going to keep building and building until i explode.” you mumble to which chan hums and nods too

“imagine you're a bottle of fizzy pop. your body is the bottle, your feelings are the fizzy liquid. what happens when you shake a bottle of fizzy pop?”

“it bubbles and explodes, creating a huge mess.”

“and what happens when you bottle your feelings up?”

“i get shaken up by the smallest of things, which causes me to bubble and explode..”

“mhm. you have to remember, my darling, that how you feel is valid. your feelings are valid. you might seem like it's something so small or stupid, but that something small could build and build and build.”

“so i should come to you whenever i feel negative?”

“yes.”

“even if i'm frustrated at a piece of work? even if i can't get a recipe right and it annoys me?”

“yes.”

“but that is so small and not as important..”

“yn, if it's bothering you then it's big. if it's bothering you, it's important to me. if you feel angry, upset, energy less, i beg that you come to me or to a friend! it's important that we voice these things, let it be known because you'll feel better.” he tucks your hair behind your ear gently before you nuzzle into his chest, thinking about what he's saying.

he is correct. he always is and that's the thing that sometimes bothers you, but in a good way! it just means that you can't hide anything from chan, whether it's good or bad and when you are feeling down, chan is always there to pick you back up and dust you off, providing you with love and comfort.

“shall we go shower together to start the day?”

“isnt it a bit late for that? besides, hasn't your day already started?” you mumble against his chest.

“it's never too late to start the day and besides, i don't mind ‘restarting’ my day if it means i get to do it with you.” he kisses the top of your head gently, stroking your back as you tangle your legs with his.

“soon.”

“soon?” he questions.

“i just want to spend some more minutes with you..”

“we can spend as many minutes together as you like, my darling. as long as you're happy and content.”

“i'm always happy and content with you, chan. you're my safe space.”

“and i hope i continue to be and provide you with that safe space, yn.”

[ozai-the-bonsai]

Memento Mori

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: loads and loads of tension in the air!!!!

A/N: I absolutely loved writing this chapter, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did - I am excited to see what you think about it!!!

After supper, Daemon found her lurking around Caraxes, she shined like a beacon in the dark of the night.

During the meetings with the riverlords, Lúthril had been by Daemon’s side, keeping her distance from everyone around her, only interfering to offer Daemon her wisdom or when Daemon asked her to provide her opinion on certain matters. Even though she kept saying that she had no King, in front of the little lords of the Riverlands, she did indeed act as if she had pledged her loyalty to Daemon as her king.

In everything she did, she was just too perfect: the way she carried herself ever so gracefully, the way she talked, her choice of words… It felt somehow wrong, making Daemon feel uneasy around her. Of course, at such moments, he would remember that she was no human and the uneasy feeling would go away. Deep down, he knew it only made sense for her to be perfect after having spent many years with the Gods.

Others in Harrenhal were mesmerised by her beauty the moment they saw Lúthril for the very first time that day – Daemon could swear he had seen Simon Strong drooling. Many tried to question her about where she came from and who she really was but Lúthril had a way with words – before they even knew it, she would brush the questions under the table, changing the subject or offering her wisdom about something completely irrelevant.

Before supper, Simon Strong had ordered the servants to prepare a room for the Lady to use as her chambers. Daemon could only imagine how different it had to feel to finally have a bed after hundred years of imprisonment.

As he approached Caraxes, the memories of the conversation earlier haunted him once again that day. Lúthril’s knowledge of his darkest deeds unnerved him. She was not just an advisor. She was a force—one he could not yet comprehend. But whether she was his salvation or his undoing, only time would tell.

“You give me the feeling that you enjoy the presence of my dragon more than my own, my Lady.” Daemon said, causing Lúthril to raise her head to meet his gaze. Throughout the day, he had got used to addressing her as my Lady to make the riverlords believe that she was some lady from somewhere. “Have you ever seen one this close before?”

Lúthril nodded as she placed her right hand on Caraxes’ scales. To Daemon’s surprise, the dragon was actually allowing her to touch itself, to come near itself. Daemon had no information about the Valargon’s relationship to the dragons; however, the view in front of his eyes was enough to intrigue him.

“We lived in Valyria amongst the dragonlords for a long time,” she responded, “but long before Daenys the Dreamer had her visions about the Doom, our Seers told us that we had to move to Westros.”

“So you can speak High Valyrian,” Daemon swiftly switched to his mother-tongue, causing Lúthril to giggle as she walked towards him.

“Of course I can,” Lúthril responded in High Valyrian. “Back then, the wealthiest dragonlords of Valyria could also speak the language of my people.”

Daemon took a few moments before continuing the conversation – the way Lúthril spoke the language had him mesmerised. The way the words rolled off her tongue, how High Valyrian added even more grace to her (as if it was possible) made Daemon want to stay there and just listen to her speaking in the language of his ancestors for the rest of his life.

“What about the dragons? Why do they know you?” Daemon asked, trying to gather his thoughts on the present moment but it was hard not to drift away. “Your people were no dragonlords, yet Caraxes seems to recognise your blood somehow.”

“Do you know how Targaryens became dragonlords, Daemon?” Lúthril asked, switching to the common tongue. Her intense gaze was causing different emotions to rise within Daemon, which had been confusing him ever since he met her. He didn’t really know her and yet, he was feeling the strongest attraction he has ever experienced in his life. It was exhilarating and also unsettling.

Daemon followed her when she started walking. “Of course,” he said, trying to understand where she was headed with this question. “They used blood magic – even Targaryen babes know about this.”

Lúthril sent him a confident look as she slowed down her steps. “And who do you think taught them how to carry out the blood magic to bind the dragons to the descendants of Valyrian blood?” Upon seeing the change in Daemon’s expression, she laughed. “I believe you now know the answer.”

“So it was your people?” Daemon asked, he found it hard to believe that the Valargon had played such a huge part in shaping the Targaryen dynasty – by teaching them how to be dragonlords. “That made us kings?”

She shook her head, causing her long hair to sway. “No, we simply taught you how to bind the dragons – the rest, you have accomplished yourselves.” Taking a deep breath, she rested her forehead against Caraxes’ scales, her feet stopping. It was astonishing that Caraxes was allowing her to get that close to him and that Lúthril was not getting any burns since the scales of a dragon tended to get very hot, even steaming during cold nights. “We gave you dragonfire, which eventually became our death. Destiny works in funny ways.”

Standing behind her, Daemon kept still for a moment, trying to decide whether he should listen to the wicked whispers crowding his thoughts. His reason was screaming at its lungs, telling him it was wrong, flashing him memories with Rhaenyra to make him feel awful about himself. However, the yearning after Lúthril and the desire to touch her skin was way stronger, coming from his very essence. The moment he laid his eyes on her, he would forget about Rhaenyra in a heartbeat.

At that instant, all Daemon wanted was to have her.

Listening to the whispers, Daemon took a big step towards Lúthril, resting his hands on either sides of her head, which still leaned the warm scales of Caraxes. The dragon’s hard scales were warm against Daemon’s skin, still leaving his hands unburnt. Upon realising the movements around him, Caraxes raised his long neck in an uneasy manner; however, upon seeing Daemon, the dragon let itself rest again.

“How interesting that might be, it still doesn’t answer my question – why does Caraxes recognise you?” Daemon whispered in her ear in High Valyrian. The way Lúthril shivered when his warm breath reached her ear was visible to Daemon as well, causing the edge of his lips to curl upwards.

“It is not just Caraxes,” She responded in High Valyrian, still her back was facing Daemon. “All dragons recognise us – the Valargon blood has been known to them ever since the first hatchling flapped its wings. They can smell our magic and realise its similarity to theirs.”

With slow movements, Daemon raised his right hand for a brief moment to gather Lúthril’s hair on her right shoulder. Then, he leant in for his lips to be on a level with her ear. His warm breath licked her exposed neck, causing her to take a deep breath. “In that case, I am certain Caraxes would gladly let you fly with me.” Daemon’s words were lower than a whisper. “Have you ever ridden a dragon?”

Lúthril paused for a moment before speaking, Daemon wished he could know what she thought at that moment or how she felt; however, she had a strong grip on herself, trying to show Daemon as little as she could. Well, the Rogue Prince always welcomed a challenge – the harder it was to unravel her mysteries, the more satisfaction the prize at the end brought.

“Flown I have,” Lúthril switched to the common tongue as she slowly turned inside Daemon’s arms to face him. The small distance between their bodies felt like it could burn any moment with the tension heavy in the air. “But not on dragonback.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow at her, looking down to meet her gaze. She seemed to know how to play this game as well; however, her moments of hesitation were more visible to the naked eye than his. “I believe you have to provide me more details as to how it is possible to fly without a dragon.”

A smirk found its way to her lips as she pushed back a strand of hair falling in front of her eyes. “Daemon Targaryen, you do forget who I am often enough,” she spoke with a playful tone. “Why should it puzzle you that a being able to see your past, present and future can fly too?”

“I have never seen a person floating on their own in the sky,” Daemon responded with his quick wit, following the same playful tone Lúthril has set. He leaned in even further so that his lips were brushing against hers when he spoke, “have you?”

Even the brief touch of their lips in that single moment sent a shiver down her spine, Daemon had to try hard not to put on his victory smirk. He wanted to make her desperate for himself for he enjoyed this little game more than he could put into words.

He felt… alive after a long, long time.

Lúthril’s response took him by surprise. “It saddens me that your mind insists on restricting me to the fragile human body.”

“Ah,” Daemon spoke as he took a step back. “A shapeshifter, then.” It was a thought which has not occurred to him before; however, given everything the enchantress could do with her magic, shapeshifting was really not so surprising. “Which body does my Lady prefer for a pleasant flight?”

A giggle escaped her lips as she followed Daemon on his way to Caraxes’ saddle. “An eagle,” she responded, “a white eagle.”

[POV change]

You wrapped your hands tighter around Daemon’s waist as Caraxes flew through the night sky. Even though you had flown yourself, dragonback was a far different experience – far more thrilling and far more terrifying – even for someone like yourself.

In Valyria, conquering the skies amongst the dragons used to be one of your greatest pleasures in life – but that was another time, another life, when fire had not yet consumed your world, turning everyone you once held dear to ashes.

The wind tugged at your hair, the cold air biting against your skin and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to feel the warmth of Daemon’s body through the leather garments he carried. Strange, you thought. He had a fire burning within him, one that not even the flames of his dragon could match.

And yet, he did not know how easily he could be consumed by it.

Perhaps I myself, too, do not know how easily I can be consumed by it. The fire burning with the dragon.

For centuries, you had been untouchable, even in your imprisonment. Men, mortal or otherwise, held no sway over you. Yet, this one—Daemon Targaryen—made you question your restraint. His touch was a flame you didn’t wish to extinguish, though you knew it was dangerous to let it burn too brightly.

Your fingers, so accustomed to cold distance, now gripped him as though clinging to the last rays of the eternal light. Vulnerability, once alien, now crept beneath your skin like an uninvited guest, and you wondered how long you could allow yourself to burn.

Knowledge made it even more sweeter, the taste of the fruit. Knowing that the connection between you and Daemon had been woven into the very fabric of the time.

Is this why I find it impossible to walk away from him? you thought as you inhaled his scent, which somehow brought peace to your mind. Or is it something else?

Being close to him was becoming more intoxicating each time – you could not even recall the last time you had experienced such feelings towards another person, Valargon or human. It felt… exciting, in a different way. Despite knowing his past, present and future; Daemon was still a mysterious new book needed to be read – you had to let yourself get lost between its pages to taste its mysteries.

Desire was, indeed, quite hard to put a leash on.

“You have been quite,” Daemon spoke, breaking the silence. “Is everything alright?”

“I am simply enjoying the skies,” you responded with a content tone, “it is truly wonderous – exploring the night sky on dragonback.”

For a quick moment, Daemon looked over his shoulder to meet your gaze, his purple eyes shinning with joy. “I am glad you are enjoying yourself, my Lady.”

After a short pause, you spoke. “I do enjoy your presence, too, Daemon Targaryen.” A soft chuckle followed. “Not just your dragon’s.”

Daemon’s laugh sent shivers down your spine, you found it hard to believe how much you had grown you like that sound. It was utterly enchanting, leaving you wanting to crawl into his arms.

After dismounting Caraxes, you both stood next to each other, looking at the cursed castle of Harrenhal in silence. The night was still calm but the wind was getting colder and the full moon was slowly leaving its place to the waning crescent, its light reflecting from the diamonds on your dress.

Upon feeling his gaze on yourself, you turned your head to the left, Daemon’s purple eyes awaiting you. The flirtatious aura he normally had around himself was quite thin at that moment; all you could see in his eyes was… adoration. You couldn’t recall the last time someone looked at you that exact way.

“The diamonds on your dress,” Daemon spoke slowly as he raised his right hand. His fingers brushed against the diamonds adorning the neckline of your dress. “They make me feel like as if they have captured the light of the stars inside.”

A small smile formed on your lips. “You are not entirely wrong,” you responded, causing him to raise an eyebrow. “These diamonds were forged under the light of thousand stars, during the brightest night in the Land of the Gods.”

Daemon’s hand moved up to your shoulder, the ghost of his fingers trailing down your left arm over the fabric of your silver dress, giving you goosebumps. You took a deep breath. The effect of his touch on you was terrifying – your heart was on a race, breaths getting deeper, your body aching for more.

“So they did capture the light of the stars,” Daemon muttered as he gently held your hand. “Any less wouldn’t do your beauty any justice.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

The distance between your bodies seemed to get less and less, until you stopped yourself – you knew today was not the right time. Upon seeing the confused look in Daemon’s purple eyes, you placed your right hand on the side of his face, your left hand holding his right one.

“Not today,” you whispered, your lips slightly touching his as you spoke. “The stars move in their own time, Daemon. Let us not rush what’s already written.”

Standing on your fingertips, you left a kiss on his left cheek, a chuckle leaving Daemon’s lips. “You are a strange kind of woman,” he spoke as you stepped back.

With a smile on your lips, you turned around to head back to the castle. “Good night, Daemon.”

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[punksocks]

Astrology Observations: No.29

*only based on my observations, only take what resonates

(Oml I didn’t realize that I haven’t written out a proper observations post since May?? I’m so sorry y’all life has been crazy b u s y and the world has been on fire due to colonialism, but I’m going to write more again 🙃 I love astrology but existence is wild y’all)

-I had a client say Geminis always get Gemini tattoos.. while getting a Gemini tattoo lol (and they were right!!) (Leo suns are second most likely imo)

-mutable venuses like changes in fashion a lot, they tend to go through fashion phases



-Every Pisces sun I’ve met has said they don’t really like being a Pisces at least once. Which is so interesting because Pisces sun isn’t a placement in determent, Libra is ! And I think 9 times out of 10 Libras will say they love being Libras (or it’s a huge part of their personality fr)

-My favorite thing I’ve heard from a Libra sun I knew was that they hated doing all of the things that made them appear socially functional so I said “why do you do it? why not just stop doing what you hate?” and they just looked blank like they couldn’t even imagine not conforming (even though they were an aqua moon)

-Ok so I’ve been wondering why I’ve had repetitive instances of some people being passive aggressive and w e i r d at my main job when I literally own the business and I’m their boss?? But it’s that Lilith in 10th. No one is neutral about your energy and you can rub folks the wrong way just by minding your business. I don’t like it but especially at work bc I’m a Capricorn and this isn’t productive >:/ lol

-Oh another Lilith touching Asc observation is when people start a conversation with me like 60-75% of the time they try to challenge me or ask lowkey rude questions (sneak diss shit lol) like 3 different people asked me what tattoo I regret the most and I was like ??? Hello? Who are you? Lol these streets oml…

-cancer placements can be really centered on defending their self, their perspective, their family, their community (they don’t have to be but it can be a common trait). I just noticed the pattern after ages of wondering why cancer was associated with nationalism on a wide scale. (Pluto in Cancer generation and the rise in nationalism after ww2 for example)

-I feel like Sagittarius placements (especially the big 3) will always be ready to do something new and life changing at any age (moving abroad, going on vacation and exploring new places, getting their first tattoo, anything that seems like it’ll open the door to a set of new experiences)

-Strong mars and mercury energy can make someone brutal in arguments (air mars, Virgo and Gemini mars, even Kendrick is an example he destroyed Drake- and Kendrick has mars conjunct Mercury and a Gemini sun)

-Sag Venus culture is being clingy because you need a lot of attention/stimulation and suddenly ditching when you don’t get enough attention/stimulation to keep your interest 🥴 (even more with sag mars since they’re action oriented, they’re in the same camp imo lol)

-I blame America’s Aquarius moon for the cultural phobia of being too “irrational” or “emotionally expressive” ….while being known as being too passionate and irrational in many non US cultures (also the US and the emotional detachment for the sake of “progress”, dark side of this placement but thematic nonetheless)

-imo when sun’s transiting your Lilith you can feel like a lot of attention is on you, sometimes good but often pretty scrutinizing. I also feel like you can achieve some impossible things during this transit due to Lilith’s energy (she’s built for rebellion, so when a lot of criticism is pointed her way she finds an unconventional way to come out on top)

-I have so much writing to do but if there are specific placements you want me to do observations on, let me know in the comments and my inbox!

[hearts4skywalker]

why don't you bring your girlfriend? // robby keene

materlist!!

summary: robby keene had always been cobra kai's top fighter. when kyler decides to throw a party, kenny and the others all bombard robby on why he doesn't bring his girlfriend to the party.

pairings: you and robby!!

warnings: pet names (baby), you're literally such cutie, fem prns, probably cringe, takes place end season 3 (except it doesn't really make timeline sense but for the sake of the one-shot bear with me), hawk and devon being cobra kai, it didn't not come out the way i wanted to so i might make another robby one-shot idk 🤷‍♀️

w/c: 1100

robby had been punching the dummy for what felt like hours. his knuckles hurt and had blisters all over them. nothing cobra kai's top fighter couldn't deal with, however. next to the brunette was tory. she had just finished nis sparing with kyler when she sat down to take a drink.

seeing everyone grabbing water, robby followed. he twisted the cap off of a plastic water bottle, flicking it into a corner to never be found again. robby wasn't one to chat during practice. he found it disrupting and the last thing he would want to do is upset silver or kreese. truth be told, the boy was terrified of his senseis.

"party at mine tonight. be there by 7 or i'll open the kegs without you guys." robby didn't have to look up from staring at his bloody knuckles to know who's voice it was. kyler's voice annoyed robby to no end. robby listened to the people who said they'd be there. tory spoke up. "keene, you going?"

robby shook his head. "can't make it." kyler's face went from being full of pride to slightly offended. "why not? you too good for your friends now?" kyler rolled his eyes. robby cocked an eyebrow, standing up and walking over to the group. "sorry man i told my girlfriend i'd come over after practice." tory looked surprised.

kenny's eyes widened. "wait, robby, you have a girlfriend? since when?" this was news to everyone. even though robby and y/n had been dating since before he was on the run last year, the two never told anyone. partly because they were both very private people and partly because y/n was scared of samantha larusso. "uh about a year and a half now." robby looked around the room, realizing his mistake.

"why don't you bring your girlfriend?" tory interrogated. it was a pretty solid idea. robby just didn't know if y/n was all that of a party person. it couldn't hurt to ask he supposed. "i'll ask her. but no promises we'll show." and with that, robby left to head over to his girlfriends.

robby softly knocked on y/n's front door, knowing she was home alone and he didn't want to scare her. y/n quickly opened the door. her face lit up when she saw that it was robby. she threw her arms around his neck, giving him the biggest hug she could.

"hey, baby, i have a huge question to ask." robby started. the two had been laying in y/n's bed for quite some time now. it was around 6, an hour before the party started. y/n hummed in response. robby sat up, subconsciously scooting y/n up so she was still laying on his legs. robby took a deep breath. "kylershavingapartytonightandimayhaveaccidentallyletitslipthatwe'vebeendatingforayearandnowtheywantmetobringyousoyoucanmeetthem." (kylers having a party tonight and i kinda let it slip that we've been dating for a year and now they want me to bring you so you can meet them)

y/n was taken back by how quickly he attempted to get that out. "sure, seems fun." y/n patted robby's leg reassuringly. "wait really?" robby pushed his hair back, a sign of relief escaping his legs. "really. it's been a year and i think it's time for me to meet them." y/n sat up, shrugging. "you're actually the best." robby smiled, planting a soft kiss on her lips.

an hour later the two had arrived at kyler's house, already hearing the music blasting from a few houses down. there weren't many people there, just the cobras. tory described it as a "inner circle only" kind of thing. robby opened y/n's car door, offering his hand for her to grab. of course she couldn't pass on that offer. she took robby's hand. robby slammed the door shut with his free hand.

the two didn't know whether to knock or to just walk in. judging by how loud the music was, the two just walked in. the chatter stopped when the couple came into sight. "holy shit." kenny whispered to kyler, pointing at robby. "yo, keene, your girl was real?" kyler raised an eyebrow. y/n flipped him off. "this is y/n. y/n these guys are kyler, kenny, hawk, tory, devon, and....stingray?" robby pointed at each person, pausing at stingray.

y/n nodded towards everyone. her and robby went to go sit on the couch. "so, y/n, how did you and robby meet?" tory questioned, trying to help y/n ease into the group. (we love a polite queen) "oh.. uhh.. i think the first time we met he was working at larusso's car shop and i was picking up my car. right?" y/n held robby's hand a little tighter. she looked up at him for confirmation.

"pretty sure that's what happened." robby nodded. tory smiled at y/n. "c'mon, y/n. me, you, and devon can just talk while they do... whatever the fuck they're doing." tory had a weird tone in her voice when she said the last part. kyler had been trying to get stingray to chug a beer without spilling drop. "be back, baby." y/n kissed robby's cheek before taking tory's hand and running outside with her and devon.

devon took a breath of fresh air. "those people piss me off so much." devon laughed. tory nodded with her. the three girls sat in the grass, staring up at the stars. "you look good with robby. he's been a lot happier." tory reassured y/n. not like she needed the reassurance, but it was still nice to hear.

the girls talked about themselves, as well as cobra kai as a whole, for a good hour and a half before people started leaving the party. robby came outside, car keys in hand. "you ready?" he asked. y/n nodded, brushing the grass off her knees. she held her hands out for tory and devon to grab. she pulled them up within seconds. "it was so nice meeting you guys." y/n smiled at the two. the girls smiled back at her.

robby opened the car door for y/n, then closing it when she was fully in the car. he got into the driver's side, starting the car. "so, how'd you like them?" robby reached a hand over the gear stick to hold her hand. he rubbed his fingers over he knuckles. "it was good. they're sweet girls. especially tory." robby snickered.

y/n looker over at him confused. "it's nothing, baby. just never heard the words 'tory' and 'nice' in the same sentence."

[saturnsfather]

ANY. LITERALLY ANY. HELLO? AM I IN A FUCKING SOUNDPROOF BOX? DO LITERALLY ANY OF YOU HAVE CRITICAL THINKING SKILLS? I FEEL LIKE THE ONLY PERSON HERE

a Little bit of competency on the part of my coworkers would be. yk. like it feels like a small ask. just a tad bit? a small amount? any amount really. you would think it wouldnt be too much to ask and you would be wrong

[rindough]

thinking ab boothill being seduced by someone working with the ipc so they can capture him... take the money and run by tamer... :3 - 💫

cw. gn! reader, fluff mixed w/ angst, strangers to fwb to lovers- then to enemies >:(, implication of suggestive themes

wc. 3,130

notes. STAR ANON IS HERE AGAIN :DDDD and wow this song, i LOVE IT, plus i think it rllyyy goes with the trope u gave. it gives the whole idea some sexy mysterious touch to it UGH but u know what makes it hit in the feels more worst? for this trope to take the "i shouldnt be doing this, but i must" typa route 😈😈 i actually edited the whole draft over the past few days, so i hope it's... understandable??? but oh man i rlly got carried away with this 🫨🫨 so have a seat star anon, get comfy n get something nice to drink and i hope u enjoy this AAAAAAAAAA

This song really, really goes well with the trope- so mysterious, much alluring so that Boothill does not pry his eyes away from your back as he approaches. His thoughts run on how many glasses would it take for him tonight to drown the tiredness that's slowly creeping up to him.

All the running, all the shooting. Boothill definitely needs some touch up here and there later but it's all worth it. His thirst tonight could never beat the thirst for revenge he has for the IPCs, especially for that shitbag named Oswaldo.

Through the waves of people and memos, he observes as he walks. The way Siobhan smiles at you, the way the bar's lighting illuminate your features, how you're dressed, it all suits you, he thinks.

Who is this all too unfamiliar person in his all too familiar bar?

"Usual?" Siobhan asks from the other end of the counter, eyes fixated on the syrup she's pouring into the cup.

"Usual, two big glasses."

As she begins to make your drinks, he finally plops down and takes in the stranger beside him, prompting you to turn to him as well.

It all suits that hard wall he's come to face when you meet eye to eye.

"Why do ya got a wall up like that?" Oh Aeons, it took a while for him to process what he had blurted out. Yet, seeing your eyes widened like that, it intrigues him.

You had felt the way this man has pierced holes through the back of your skull. Even until now does it sting, it burns to be under his gaze like that. Dangerous, yet so tempting.

You study him.

From the boots on his feet to the awfully tight pants he's wearing, there was no denying that those iconic target in his pupils had took your breath away.

He was more attractive in real life than the pictures you've seen in your office and reports.

"Huh, cat got your tongue I supposed..." He pouts and turns to Siobhan, who's just finishing making your drinks.

Finally you spoke, "Where are your manners, mister?"

With how your words slid past your lips in a sly, hushed tone, it pulls him in. Scoffing, he turns to face you again. "Asking me why I got a wall up high instead of my name?"

He rolls his eyes, getting a bit more annoyed since the fact you've taken his usual seat. "Says the one eyein' me down like no one's business. Care to explain yerself?"

What a hypocrite, it was his turn to eye you down now. Going from the crown of your head to the the curves of your shoulders, he comes back to face the color of your pupils and the shape of your nose. Your lips.

He thinks he could spend all his free time looking at you.

"You two know each other?"

Two heads now turn to the bartender, the question lingers in the air but she quickly cuts it off, "Anyways, enjoy your drinks, Gallagher's not here so I can't stay and chat all the time."

Watching as the lady slides off to her next customer, your eyes now fall back to target pupils that have already rested on yours. A smile creeping on your lips at the feel of your knees touching each other, now that you're both facing each other.

"Name?"

"Y/n."

"Y/n... very fitting for a person like you." He coos, smiling as he swirls the malt in his glass. Excitement boiling in him at the shy curl adorning your face. "Boothill."

There begins your interaction with the wanted man. He's a regular in here, yet from your studies there had been some days where the man in question does not come to the bar. However, the days you've picked out last week to visit Siobhan had became fruitful. Knees pointed to one another as you both engage in deep talks and quiet, flirtatious banter. Unsure when he'll see you again, Boothill offers you two days of each week for a rendezvous.

As selfish and attention seeking it may sound, he finds solace in your company, wanting nothing more than to bask under the light of your attention each night you two meet.

Hence, it's now the third week that you're here to visit him. It's a new routine you've been looking forward to in comparison to your work and other things in life. Now you're both here, knees once again touching, smiles exchanged while throwing in some flirtatious comments from time to time. But...

You have to push further. You have to lure the man in further. Partially due to your need to push the progress forward, and also to your dying urge to know him better, you asked:

"Do you feel anything, Boothill?"

He hums, his first drink already downed, leaving his hands to rest on the cool counter by your side. Through his side bangs, he blinks, having caught off guard by the question you've laid out to him. Yet, all he could do was reminisce that time whilst staring at himself through the reflection of the glass in his hands.

Boothill.

What has he come to?

Having put himself on the surgical table back then just to feel alive. Not an ounce of determination left him when he forced the request onto the poor doctor. But regret? Perhaps he did, he regretted back then knowing after the procedure he could not feel anything but pure weight.

"I don't feel anything, I suppose..."

Perhaps he had too much tonight now that he's running high on energy and feeling so many things, or was it the room that's getting more crowded by the second tonight and how vulnerable and alone he feels under your soft gaze?

"I don't exactly feel anything, more like can't feel much."

But what could he do, he drifts away from the glass and turns to you. It's better to look forward to things in his current state than to dwell on the past. It's something he tells himself from time to time, right now being one of them.

"I did it to maself," he puts up a hand between you, a playful look on his face. "But see? I do many cooler things now, this hand of mine's can do and has done many things."

The light weight of your fingers on the palm of his hand brings him to hitch his breath. He can't feel it yet he could tell despite being partially human, you still took into account how sensitive the topic was and to treat his hand like glass. The tension around you grows thick, air inside the bar getting hotter. He no longer feels timid and vulnerable, but more like he's determined to put a brave front for you to see and for you to seek comfort in. Your delicate dance on his metallic limp allows him to soften his gaze, but turns dark after hearing the words that leave your lips.

"What else can it do?"

Push.

"You do not what to know, angel."

"Oh, don't I?" Your gaze falls to how your hands lined up to one another, laid on the countertop. Even the cool countertop couldn't beat the heat that spread along the veins of your arm.

Push.

"What if I want to?"

"Fudgin' hell, ya sure don't give up eh?" He slowly sighs out the air he didn't know he's kept in, the smell of malt waves over your lips. He stood dangerously close, face daringly inching closer as if he was trying to tempt you, to scare you.

Yet, you know what he wants to do, and to be fair you wanted it too. It's hard to keep yourself in check when all you see, all you need- you want- is him. Maybe, you can let yourself go in this one. This one time.

There wasn't any time limit into how long you should capture him but definitely it should be done as soon as possible. That laughter of his that booms just loud enough for you to hear, that grip he indulges when you tug him out of the bar right then and there, and that praise and touch he leaves by the end of each coming rendezvous leaves you falling deeper into Aeon knows whatever this hole is.

Boothill knows he can't feel anything, but he does know that whatever's going on during your rendezvous is addicting. Not in the sense that he could drown himself in pleasure every week but he finds himself turning into someone he doesn't really know, or maybe someone he's lost a long time ago.

The cyborg himself knows he's different.

With a different body unlike his previous one, he could charge himself up to sleep, or be like a normal person and sleep in a bed. He could run on days without sleep and still be busting the IPC's asses and Aeon knows whatever stupid plan he has to ruin someone's day. Malt juice is now his go to for some sleep top-up and quick boost of adrenaline... but he realizes this later that it's unhealthy.

However, ever since this began he finds everyday to be less... taxing. To be less dull, less redundant, and he looks forward to it. Meeting you, catching up with you, ending the night with you, this whole thing is basically like a reward system for him. But because he knows this new routine is starting to change him for the better, he's happier. He's more pumped, getting more sleep, even he begins to try to be a little bit more careful during his fights or shenanigans.

And as the cyborg finds change to be an exciting challenge, he indeed loves it when it benefits both sides. He finds comfort in the way you turn in your sleep to curl into him, how despite you had to rush and leave for the morning you still find time to brush your finger along the scar by his eye. He finds solace in the words you speak and the secrets you shared amongst yourselves.

And tonight, there laid you in between the sheets in the all too familiar bedroom.

You study him.

The way the metallic surface rises and falls in rhythm to his breathing, his mouth slightly agape and head tilted aside in his sleep. How he without fail folds whichever leg in that's equivalent to the side of bed he's sleeping on.

Today, tonight, this time, you do not trace his chest. You mustn't, no matter how strong the urge was especially tonight. Silently cursing at how this had developed into a habit, you slip out of the sheets and into your pants and top.

Quietly into the night you ventured, feet in sync to your quick beating heart with fingers already dialing the familiar digits on your screen.

"Hey."

This mission was a curse. Meeting Boothill is a curse. Being with the IPC is starting to become a curse because this right here? It's self sabotage, but you know deep inside you can no longer keep up the facade.

"Two days from now, 20th system hour at Golden Hour's Dazzle Motel. Got it?"

The first day since the call was less painful, guilt was slowly creeping up to you at the back of your mind but it was bearable. It was easy to stay distracted thanks to Boothill's banter and finally (to the man's luck) trying out his favorite malt drink.

Day two though, was the beginning of your torture. Thoughts flood your mind and focus; it was silent tonight. The cyborg doesn't speak either, simply thinking it's one of those moments where you both fall into deep silence, listening to the crowd and enjoying in each other's presences. So, he finds comfort in the silence and never questions it. But he however questions your choice of seating today, leaving his old seat for him to sit as you sit in his 'new' seat.

But the silence tonight that lingers in the air leaves your heart to ache, it will be hard to end tonight. Especially noting the way his eyes glimmer and shark teeth beaming wide when you chug his usual down like a champ to drown your guilt. But he doesn't know that. He doesn't have to know that.

"Wasn't expectin' to see ya today, Y/n." He tries not let out a laugh, but fails when his amusement finally takes over. Peering through the rim of the tall glass, you smiled at him while swallowing the last bit of malt juice.

"I guess seeing you has become my favorite routine, wouldn't you agree cowboy?"

"Can't say that I disagree there-"

"And Boothill, maybe I want to discover more things about you, inside out." You confessed swiftly, turning back to face the glass in your hold, word vomiting without a care if he's able to catch up to what you're saying.

Eyes widened with a gasp flying out of his lips, your smile widens.

Jackpot.

But oh the pain does not only accompanies your cheeks but also grows in that tear in your heart.

Perhaps you could make it count, now that damage was done.

With gaze so intense he watches the way you lean back slightly, eyes traveling up and down his figure but it's different this time. The weight in your gaze holds such sincerity and fondness, Aeons! He could feel his lips wobbling in happiness.

Was this a move? Is this how you finally make the move on him?

"So, what do you say?" The pair of twinkling eyes he adores comes back to meet with his, the skunk-haired man could only blink, trying to process it all deeply.

He wonders how long has it been since you've been 'seeing' each other... A month? Two? Your meetups for sure have occurred every week.

"No?"

He snaps out of it, your face now turned towards the wall of soda and syrup bottles opposite the counter you both shared. "Well, too bad on my-"

"Y/n..."

You froze, cold fingers slip through strands of your hair and brush along the side of your cheek. Slowly you turned towards him, feeling his thumb rub the skin near your ear, his other fingers resting by your nape. He's got you trapped now, his body hovering slightly over your seated figure.

From his looks alone do you curse a million times again to yourself. From the soft plush and taste of his lips do you know it adds up to the tears that threaten to fall, that would accompany you on your days right after.

By the time you two step foot into the same place you spent every week, the front desk lady knew at this point what you've been up to and no longer pauses to hand Boothill the keys to the room.

You watch him, you study him, you remember him. The tight grip on your hand, the flow of his long locks under the cool hue of the dreamscape.

"Tonight Y/n, let's be honest with each other."

Your lips crash and the door closes with the help of your foot. You both turn round and round with eagerness to lead, hands coming up to pull his jacket with hands coming down to tug the hoops of your pants whilst moving deeper into the room. Each push and pull leaves you hoping, begging for this to be a nightmare that you'll both wake up from.

You'll remember every single part of this, even though it is short-lived.

You hold him back, resting your hands on the edge of his jacket. Catching your breath before you speak, "Wait." The softness of your voice elevates the running of his mechanical heart. Your gentle push right after causing the cowboy to fall back a little as he watches you turn your back and walk away.

"Where ya goin'?"

"Gonna lock the door." You glance back at him. "I want to start slow."

"How slow we talkin', angel?" His voice remains low yet it manages to bring a smile on your lips, just the tone alone could you tell the man was grinning as he spoke those words. "We don't got all night, I know you gotta leave for work by dawn."

"You can't stay back just for the day?" He asks out, despite being by the front of the bed looking all messed up and rowdy, he sounds as if he's holding onto the last ray of hope.

"I can't, Boothill." You turn to him, smiling but he catches how odd it was.

"You know I want to, but I simply can't."

He catches the force in it but oh it was all too late.

Arms now cuffed with the tight grips of the IPC guards, he watches as you exchange a few words with the 'front desk lady'. He don't have to ask what's going on, that look on your face was a dead giveaway to what you had done.

Guilt.

Shame.

His engine runs harder, his fuel boils hotter. The clanks and screech from his thrashing could leave the guards' ears bleeding but he could careless. The noise grew as you stood forward, coming face to face with him.

"Darn it!" He barks at you, pushing forward only to be yanked back in place, his eyes squint with so much focus you're certain it'll pierce through someone.

Not that it hasn't pierced through you already.

"When I get back at ya- Oh, ho ho ho...."

You don't flinch when he jerks forward again, but this time, he stays silent. You don't dare to reach out to touch his face, his eyes bear so much of dying hope and light you couldn't help but to utter out to him in hopes he could forgive you.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah right yer sorry." He growls through his teeth, his words adding to the final weight on your shoulders. "I was lenient with ya, I was careful for ya. Oh Aeons, I knew I shouldn't have let 'em guards down."

"May we meet again, Boothill."

"Don't ever come in my sight." He spits, eyes falling into despair as your figure disappear by the doorframe.

It is your fault.

You could have make this happen in a week's time, but hell- this was four months worth of visits, adding on a confession to a man you know so well could be a step closer to being lovesick. Adding on a confession that could make your dreams and longing come true.

But... what is there for you to do? What could you do now?

Meet him again? The audacity of yours.

The only question you could ask yourself day and night after this was how could you?

What were you doing?

©  2024 rindough, do not repost or plagiarize.