#forgive me i have not posted here in forever i keep forgetting to

[reynemi]

☀️ 

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

You look like a fun place to sit.

Gif credits

Pairing: Neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader

Words count: 2667

Rating: + 18, MDNI

Summary: You decide to enjoy a night at the movies, your neighbor Frankie ruins it all. Or maybe not?

Tags: pov second person, no use of y/n, fluff, sort of romcom vibes (?), smut, enemies to lovers, age unspecified but they are both full grown adults, Frankie is annoying but also cute and lovely and fucking gorgeous, reader has hair, breasts and vagina, other than that no other description of her is given, fingering (f receiving), sexual acts in public places (again? Again. I'm not even particularly interested in doing that irl I don't know what to say to you, please forgive me), pet names (honey, baby, princess), arguing, kissing, no use of Spanish because I terribly suck at it and I don't want to butcher another language LOL. If by chance I realize I forgot something I'll add it right away.

It’s my first Frankie ff and I’m so incredibly nervous to post it you all! I really hope it doesn’t sucks because I had so much fun writing it today in one sitting ‘cause I’m just an impulsive impatient mess. (Leo sun and Aries moon, what do you expect from me if not chaos? I had nothing a few hours ago, I even skipped WIP Wednesday and btw thanks for the tag @almostempty 🩷)

Title comes from a gif of Karen Walker from Will and Grace that I saw last night, it made me laugh a lot and this thing was born LOL

As usual, English is not my first language so please be gentle, no beta and no proofreading, it’s tiny and it’s all my fault, I’m sorry 💀 Thanks to anyone who will read this!

“Excuse me, you should stand up, that’s my seat” 

Frankie turns, looking at you with a surprised expression “I don’t think so, you’re wrong” he replies. 

Ugh, your neighbor.

Frankie lives two houses away from you. Last winter you had a fight at a neighborhood meeting because you pointed out that he keeps forgetting to put the recycling bins back in, and he told you to mind your own business and called you an hysterical witch.

A stupid fight that ended up with you not saying hello to each other and various other arguments about your flashy Christmas lights or his overgrown yard. You and Frankie fight constantly, about everything. And now he's here.

You glare at him “I’m not wrong at all, look” and you wave your ticket under his nose “P10, see? It’s my seat and you’re rude”. 

A grin spreads across his face “listen, honey, I don’t know where you got this ticket, you probably made it yourself, I bought it a moment ago and it’s the same seat” 

He takes a card out of his pocket and hands it to you, remaining comfortably seated with a large popcorn box. 

You look at the ticket, him again, the ticket again “how the hell is that possible?! I booked it on their website a week ago” 

He sneers “I told you! It must be a system error, I don’t know, I’m not getting up from here”

You are furious. The theater is filling up and you absolutely don’t want to leave, you have been waiting for this movie for months and you have inspected the theater map choosing a seat that would guarantee you the very best view.

“I bought it first, so I have more right to be here than you do,” you say firmly and Frankie laughs. 

“Where are we, elementary school? Listen, honey, go buy yourself another ticket and leave me alone.” He replies crunching on popcorn.

The way he calls you “honey” irritates you deeply, it sounds like an insult.

“I’m not going anywhere, YOU get the fuck out of here” you hiss. 

“No” he simply replies and then he turns back at the screen pretending you’re not there. 

“Truly a gentleman, as usual. I have no words.” you roll your eyes and search for an usher to ask for help. No one is there. 

The movie starts in 5 minutes and you don’t want to miss anything you paid for. If you went to the box office right now to complain it would take forever to get back in. 

“Fuck” you exclaim and sit down next to him huffing. You are sure that someone will make you get up very early and it pisses you off.

Frankie continues to nibble on his popcorn and looks at you with an extremely amused expression, it seems like the show has become you.

“Why do you care so much about this movie anyway?” he asks you. “Does any of your relatives happen to be in it?“ 

You’re fuming. 

His teasing tone, his vaguely Spanish accent, his smirk, the sound of him chewing, everything bothers you.

“No. Shut the fuck up” you tell him with a death stare. 

You won’t tell him that your favorite actor stars in it, that you have every photo from the set of this movie saved on your phone, that you’ve read every article about it, and that you couldn’t wait to enjoy it on the first day of screening.

You can already hear his raucous laughter. No, you would never tell Frankie anything like that.

“You're not one of that guy's crazy fans, are you?” 

“What guy?” you ask him, pretending not to know what he's talking about. “Gladiator is one of my favorite movies, that's all. I just wanted to watch the sequel in peace. Someone is stopping me, though” 

“That guy, I bet you like him, what’s his name? Paul Pascal?” he stares at you searching for every little involuntary movement on your face that might give you away. 

“Oh for God’s sake, what are you doing here anyway? Do you even know what you're about to see? They are Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal, two different people, you uncultered swine.” You yell. This guy is impossible.

“Yeah, whatever, so which one do you fancy?”

“Fucking nobody” you lie “I just want to watch a movie after a horrible week at work, okay?” You try to play on his guilt. If he has one, you think.

“Well, I've had a rough week too, okay?” he shrugs without stopping to give you that annoying little smile. “And it's not my fault that this theater is having problems with its computer system.”

You glance at him, wondering if he's telling the truth, it's impossible to guess from his face.

People keep sitting in the front rows and you start hoping that luck will be on your side and that no one will make you get up.

“Okay, look, now we're going to watch this movie and then we'll go our separate ways, please don't bother me anymore"

“As you wish, princess” he replies ironically.

You don't even answer him, you're too busy checking that no other people come in.

Finally the opening credits start to roll and the doors close with a dull thud.

You made it, despite this unbearable guy, you feel victorious.

You begin to relax in your chair and you don't know why you turn to look at him, lingering on his face for the first time in months.

His eyes are fixed on the screen. In the dim light you observe his raven curly hair tucked under his baseball cap, his dark eyes, the line of his prominent nose, his scruffy beard, his mustache, just above a pair of lips that seem made for kissing.

Really, truly, gorgeous.

You're so busy arguing with him all the time that you never realized how handsome he is.

He's wearing a grey t-shirt and a pair of jeans, you can’t help but admire the way the fabrics hug his body so deliciously. 

He’s just your type, built up in all the right ways, you find yourself unable to take your eyes off him until the last second. Then the movie starts and you look away.

He’s still your number one enemy, what the hell were you thinking?

When Pedro first appears, you shift in your seat, crossing your legs.

“FUCK” you scream internally “here we go”

Unbelievably stunning in his armor, you’re basically drooling. 

You try to stay as composed as possible but Frankie is next to you and notices.

He comes closer to you and whispers in your ear “So it was all about this guy… the fuss before” You feel one of his large hand brushing your arm that is resting on the armchair and you try with all your strength to remain still even if he causes a storm inside you and especially in your panties. 

“Shut. Up.” You hiss, without moving your gaze. You feel his breath on your skin and it’s intoxicating. 

He chuckles “Yeah, that was I was thinking” and throws another popcorn into his mouth.

Your cheeks burn and you're thankful you're in the cinema, in the dark.

“What’s so special about this guy?” Frankie approaches again “is his penis platinum by any chance? All my female colleagues at work are crazy about him”

You turn to look at him with the desire to slap him “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” 

“Okay, okay, I was just asking”

You hate people talking at the movies. You wonder if you could have a more annoying guy than Frankie next to you. Probably. 

Hotter? Probably not.

This dude hits on your last nerve but he makes you horny at the same time. 

Terrible combination. 

Frankie settles back into his seat and resumes watching the film.

You can't help but look at him from time to time and your desire grows. even if you're offended that he didn't even offer you his popcorn. Rude. 

His mouth pouted and his eyebrows furrowed as he seems all focused on the movie makes you want to cup his face and kiss him.

You can still feel the warmth of his hand on your arm and his breath on your neck.

Concentrate, you tell yourself, it's the neighbor you hate, the neighbor you hate, the neighbor you hate. Fuck. You want him so bad. This revelation drives you crazier than Pedro half naked on screen.

At a particularly bloody scene you involuntarily turn around and hide your face on his shoulder.

You feel his arm around you “hey, it’s okay. I’ll tell you when it’s over” and he holds you tight the whole time.

He smells clean and fresh, like citrus and sage with a light hint of cigarette that you assume he smoked right before entering. 

Your mind goes fuzzy and your pulse races at an impossibly high rate. 

“You can look now” and it takes you a few seconds too long to register his words. 

“Th-Thanks” you mutter, shifting back to your place. 

Halfway through the movie the lights come back on and Frankie bursts out laughing looking at you. “What?” you ask him with wide eyes “what is it that makes you laugh so much?”

“Your face” he grins “it's clearly painted on it how much you want that guy. He turns you on, huh?”

You roll your eyes “Oh my God! Can't you go sit somewhere else? Two rows down, look how many free seats there are”

“I like it better here” 

You cuss, there’s no way to get rid of him.

He has something magnetic that destabilizes you, your eyes fall involuntarily on his neck, slide along his broad chest and stop at the crotch of his pants. From the way he sits you can clearly see that he is quite big.

“What are you looking at?” he asks you amusedly. 

You immediately look up. “Nothing” 

“Nothing my ass. Did you like what you saw?” 

Fuck. He noticed. You're done for. You hate to make him understand that after all, yes, you like what you saw. He seems pleased, proud, you would so much like to wipe that little smile off his face. As much as you struggle to admit it to yourself, you like him.

“Well, maybe…after all, you look like a fun place to sit” 

You can't believe you actually said that.

Frankie's response is not long in coming, his eyes immediately darken and his smile twists in a mischievous way.

The lights go out again and you feel him tug gently on your arm “come here, pretty”

He sits you down on his lap and as the movie starts again he whispers “was that what you wanted the whole time? Were you offended that I didn’t invite you?” you can clearly feel his smile spread across your skin just before he places his lips on your neck.

You would like to say something back but his closeness makes you confused and excited.

He sucks your skin like he's hungry and you moan in the dark "shh baby you gotta stay quiet while I give you what you want”

You don't know how but you find the strength to reply, "God, you're so arrogant.”

He tightens his hands on your hips, pulling you towards him, now you are practically sitting on his cock. You feel it pressing against your ass, trapped in his pants.

A rush of pleasure wets your pussy and you bite your lips to hold back another moan, you hear his hoarse voice in your ear “Maybe. You like it though” You hate to admit that he is right. 

The heat of his body envelops you pleasantly, he raises a hand to one of your breasts and squeezes it over your shirt. You like his hands. They are big, expert and eager to touch you, they make your head spin. 

You completely forgot about the movie, which seemed impossible to you, if they had told you you would have laughed in their face. In no universe would you have expected this.

“God” you whine “oh my God” His hand slides under your shirt and reveals your breast pulling down your bra, it is still covered but now you can feel his skin against yours. His fingers gently grasp one of your nipples, pulling and twisting it.

“Open your eyes, baby. Watch the movie like a good girl” his voice sounds authoritative, it irritates you and another rush of pleasure floods you at the same time.

“It’s not that easy” you mutter between your teeth as you feel his other hand dangerously approaching the hem of your skirt. He slowly goes up, as you try to hold back and make sure no one notices what he’s doing to you. Luckily, everyone seems enthralled by the film.

At this moment you don't even know why you started arguing so fiercely, if you had known before you would have tried to smooth things over a long time ago.

His fingers reach your panties, you feel them barely touching you and you already feel yourself burning with anticipation.

They move under your skirt, pushing your panties aside, grazing at your outer lips and then dipping inside you “Fuck, you’re soaking” 

He moves them up and down between your folds, gathering your wetness towards your clit.

You feel his heavy breathing on your neck, his tongue running over your skin and his teeth nibbling on you.

“Fuck, Frankie” you cry 

“Eyes to the movie”

You want to turn around and straddle him but there isn't enough room and Frankie holds you firmly anyway.

He applies pressure on your clit just right, starting to move two of his thick fingers in circle over it, the motion of his hand is partially hidden by the fabric of your skirt and your moans die in your throat one after the other. Frankie is rubbing away your sanity, you feel possessed and delirious under his touch.

Your last shred of control is torn by his fingers entering inside you, claiming your cunt as his, curling and scratching at your spongy spot.

Your eyes are still fixed on the screen but your vision is totally blurred, you see nothing, you understand nothing, you only feel Frankie pumping incessantly inside you while continuing to rub your clit with his thumb.

You feel the soft reverberation of his voice behind you, close to your ear “good girl, you're taking me so well”

The subtle Spanish accent in his voice now seems to you the most erotic sound in the world, sweet, melodious, addictive.

He takes you to the edge, you throw your head on his shoulder, shutting your eyes so everything goes black and you only feel him, until even biting your lips doesn't help anymore. He covers your mouth with his hand as you explode in a devastating orgasm, you moan against his skin, between his thick fingers that have just left your breast and you already miss them, feeling full and satiated by him.

He uncovers your mouth and kisses your neck, pressing his hand to your hip to keep you from slipping off his lap as your body trembles against his.

“Shit” you mutter “Frankie…oh my god”

“Do you think we can stop arguing all the time now?” He playfully says as he nuzzles at your hair.

“I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked, you know, I’m just like that” you reply, grinning and turning around to finally fix your eyes on his. 

“I noticed it”

You take off his cap laughing and put it on backwards and before he starts to protest you kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth, tasting butter and salt on his tongue.

“Take me home”

“The movie isn't over yet,” Frankie observes, and you reply, “that means you'll have to take me to see it again and you’ll pay”

“Fine to me, princess” 

[attic-club-sandwich]

How They are Handling your Disappearance Pt. 3

MC Returns

Ahh you guys i'm so glad you are enjoying this little series! I wasn't expecting so many of you to like it! But as requested by many, here is part 3 where MC returns to the present day timeline and reunites with the 7 brothers. This is a bit of a lengthy one because like... we are home! It's a little less angsty, a little more happy this time haha. Anyways, please enjoy! Reblogs and feedback are appreciated as usual!

Read Part 1: Brothers

Read Part 2: Side Characters

Word count: 3,057

Rating: T, slightly suggestive.

Taglist: @amberrskiies @obey-me-posts @sassykattery @delphi-dreamin @bite-sized-devil @flemmingbamse @a-hidden-gem @otomefoxystar @siofrantic @todothedodo @ihatecorns @exrellian @vernith @sus0daddy

Fill out this form if you want to be tagged in my work!

rose divider by @/firefly-graphics

It feels like it has been forever since the day that you went missing, but the brothers never gave up their search. How could they when you were out there somewhere, possibly alone and scared? The thought of their little human wandering around the unknown gave them the motivation they needed to keep going. But after a long day of once again searching the Devildom up and down with no results, the brothers are settling down for the evening.

Lucifer

The Avatar of Pride is in his room getting ready for bed after a long day of searching for you. 

His wings are terribly sore from flying all day, so he lays on his bed sprawled out on his stomach, allowing his feathery wings to stretch out behind him.  

He rests his head in his arms, and sighs.

Yet another day of searching, but no results. 

Suddenly, he begins to feel a familiar tingling sensation of magic in the air that brings goosebumps to his bare arms. 

Before he had time to process what was happening, a flash of light filled his room, practically blinding him. 

After a few seconds, the light dissipates and there you are, standing in its place. 

Lucifer forgets all about his aching wings, and jumps up from the bed. 

At first, he hesitates, terrified that you’ll disappear again at any moment. 

“M-MC…? Is it really you…?”

His crimson eyes are wide as he takes in your appearance. 

You appear the same, but he's confused by the horns that now rest on your head, as well as a few other demonic attributes.

Just where did you disappear to?

Your face scrunches up and your eyes fill with tears. “L-Luci… yes, it’s really me.” 

Suddenly, his arms are around you, a million questions in his throat but unable to speak.

You whimper, taking in his scent. He smells freshly showered, the smell of his soap sending a wave of comfort crashing over you. 

“Luci… I missed you so much…I’m so sorry…”

His shoulders begin to tremble and he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. 

You feel wetness on your skin as he begins to cry. 

Have you ever seen him cry before?

Just how much have they all suffered while I was gone?

Your arms wrap themselves around his neck and you squeeze your eyes shut. 

You stand there in his arms, his wings wrapping themselves around the two of you protectively. 

He will never let you go again. 

After a few moments, he pulls away, staring into your eyes.

“MC, the days I've spent searching for you were endless… but never once did I give up. I’m very glad that I didn’t. Every second was worth my time.”

Suddenly his lips are on yours and you accept his kiss greedily. 

Kissing him was the confirmation you needed that you were home. 

“MC, please forgive me. You can tell me the details later, but right now I just need you. I need to know you are here and…real.” 

He spins you around, guiding you to his bed so the back of your legs hit the edge, causing you to fall back. 

He hovers over top of you, his crimson eyes full of love, adoration, and desire. 

You giggle through your tears, placing a hand on his cheek. “I love you so much, Luci.”

He smiles, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“Words alone cannot express my love for you, little one.”

You give him a peck on the lips again. “We have a lot of time to make up for you know… where should we start?”

Lucifer gives you a mischievous grin. “I have just the thing in mind, darling. Something that has been long overdue.”

Mammon

Mammon returned to his bedroom shortly after arriving home. 

He had to check on his ravens who were also out searching for you while they were gone. 

His wings were sore as shit, and all he wanted to do was shower and go to bed. 

But you are more important. 

Throwing open his window, one of his ravens glides down to greet him. 

“Damn, ya didn’t find anything did ya?”

The raven hangs its head sadly, and Mammon sighs.

“Thanks anyways, I appreciate the help.”

Suddenly the raven begins to flap its wings wildly, cawing at something behind him. 

Mammon spins around, and his golden eyes widen in shock when he sees just who is appearing in the middle of his bedroom. 

It was you, clear as day. 

He’s speechless, unable to find the right words even though he’s been playing them on repeat in his head since the day you left. 

“Mammon!” you shout with tears in your eyes. You begin to run towards him, but he meets you halfway, scooping you up into his arms and spinning you around.

He sets you down again, and hugs you snugly to his chest. 

“MC…I… Shit. I-I missed ya so damn much…” he says with a shaky voice. 

You inhale his scent as he hugs you, which smells of sweat and leather. 

You’re home. He’s your Mammon. Finally…

“Mams, I’m so so sorry… I’ll explain everything I promise…”

He pulls you away from him, his golden blue gaze staring intensely at you.

“Damn right ya will! But for now…I don’t care..I just… I need ya so bad… I mean this can’t be real, right?”

You give him a small smile, taking his hand in yours. 

“I’m real, Mammon. I promise.”

His tanned skin is flushed as he pulls you with him to sit on his bed, hoisting you up onto his lap. 

He can’t hold back anymore as he plants a firm kiss to your lips. 

You accept it eagerly. 

Your tongues intertwine briefly before he pulls away, breathless. 

“I love ya MC, I’m so sorry I couldn’t do a damn thing…” 

You silence him with a kiss to the forehead. 

“It’s not your fault, Mammon. Please don’t cry…”

He notices your own lip quivering, and let’s out an amused snort through his tears.

“Don’t you go cryin’ on me either!”

His long, slender fingers run through your hair and you sigh.

His lips are on yours once more, a low growl rumbling in his chest. 

You can sense his overwhelming desire threatening to take over.

“Mammon’s got ya now, treasure. You’re safe with me. I’m never letting you go again.”

Leviathan

Throughout the search, Levi has been exploring every inch of the Devildom waters. 

From seas to lakes, he still could find no trace of you. 

Levi heads back to his room, a towel around his waist after Lucifer forced him to strip in the hallway so he didn’t track water through the house. 

Once he’s dried off and dressed again, he sinks down in his gaming chair, sighing as his aching limbs are finally able to rest. 

Tears welled up in his eyes, disappointed that he let everyone down again. 

Especially you.

I’m so useless, he thinks. 

A stray tear rolls down his cheek, and he wipes it away with his arm. 

A flash of light appears before him, and it sends a tingling sensation up his body. 

Wait a minute…that’s…!

His eyes are wide and his mouth gapes open as he looks up to see you standing there right in front of him.

“M-MC, I-Is it really y-you?!” Of course he’s a stuttering mess, but he can’t believe it.

He doesn’t know when he stood up, but suddenly you are slamming into him, wrapping your arms around his torso. 

“Yes, Levi. It’s me.” you sob, burying your face into his chest.

Your voice has him melting in your grip. 

He finally fully embraces you, burning his face into your hair. 

Your scent is slightly different,  and he can smell other demons on you. 

This sends a wave of envy over him, but he ignores it. All he cares about is that you’re home.

He, however, smells of the sea. 

“Levi, I'm so sorry… I promise I’ll explain. I just really need you right now. I’ve missed you so much…”

Leviathan only nods, his shoulders trembling from the sobs that are escaping him. 

You stay standing there wrapped in his arms, gently rubbing circles on his back. 

After some time, he calms down. 

His eyes are red and puffy and his face is swollen. Your heart aches for him. 

Suddenly, he grabs your hand, leading you over with him to his bathtub. 

You climb in together, and you sit in his lap. His tail curls around you, holding you in place. 

“M-MC…can I um, k-kiss you?” he asks, his tear stained cheeks becoming flushed. 

You nod eagerly, and he places a soft, gentle kiss to your lips. 

Your lips are the same as ever, soft and sweet. 

Levi is overwhelmed with affection for you. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you…” he mutters, rocking you gently in his lap. 

He peppers your face with kisses and you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“I love you so much too, Levi. I’m so glad to be home…” 

He rests his head on your shoulder, purple strands of his hair tickling your cheek. 

“Please don’t leave me like that again, MC. I-I was so scared…”

The tremor in his voice causes fresh tears to form in the corner of your eyes. 

“Never again, I’m staying right here with you.”

Satan

Satan steps over the pile of books on his floor before flopping down onto his bed. 

His bedroom is in quite the disarray due to his last tantrum. 

He can’t help that he’s just so damn frustrated!

They’ve practically searched the Devildom inside out, and still… nothing. 

He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares out the window, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. 

He almost doesn’t notice the burst of light filling his bedroom. 

The air was practically vibrating with magic when he spun his head around to see the silhouette of a figure in the blinding light. 

He squints, trying his best to make out the form. Once the light dissipates, an unfamiliar feeling washes over him. 

Satan thought he’s finally experienced every emotion in his lifetime of being in the Devildom. 

But what he feels when he sees you standing there in his bedroom is indescribable. 

He gasps, immediately jumping up from his bed and hurrying over to you. 

Your eyes are locked on him, and he thought he noticed you flinch the moment he approached you. 

“MC… are… you okay? Where in the Devildom have you been?”

His voice is soft, but it trembles slightly.

He doesn’t expect answers right away, of course. 

Not when you are standing here in front of him for the first time in what feels like an eternity.  

You nod, trying to wipe away your tears. “Satan… It’s me. I-I’m home.”

The sound of his name leaving your lips after so long pushes him over the edge. 

He pulls you into his arms and he squeezes you tight, finally allowing his tears to fall. 

“M-MC… I'm so glad you’re home safe… I was so worried about you…”

You relax against his chest, finally processing the fact that this wasn’t the past version of himself.

After a few moments, you sniff, pulling away from him to gaze into his eyes. You notice a scar on his cheek, still healing from a recent fight he must have had. 

You gently trace your fingers over it, and he winces. 

“I’m so sorry Satan…the pain that I must have caused you all…” 

He shakes his head, glancing away. 

“I’m just so relieved you are home, MC. I don’t believe that whatever happened was your fault.” 

His fingers run through your hair and he kisses your forehead. 

“Can I…kiss you?” you ask, your cheeks flushing slightly. Normally you wouldn’t ask, but it’s been awhile. 

“Of course, kitten. But just know if you do, I may not be able to hold myself back from you much longer.”

You give him a smirk, and press your lips firmly to his. 

To finally kiss your Satan once more. 

He slips his tongue past your lips, and you groan. 

When you pull away, his emerald eyes are shining with passion. 

“Every book I read told me how to find you, but they never mentioned how to handle your return.” 

He moves you to his bed with him so you are straddling his lap.

“But I don’t believe I need any instruction as to what comes next. I love you, MC. Please allow me to express the longing I’ve felt for you all this time.”

Asmodeus

Asmo had made his way to his room for the evening with the overwhelming urge to climb into his silk bed sheets. 

But first he really wanted a bath. The thought of the warm water soothing his aching joints was very pleasant to him right now. 

He had made his way into the bathroom to start the water, the noise of the faucet drowning out the sound coming from his bedroom. 

Asmo thought he heard something, and he lifted his head to the door that connects from the bathroom to his room. 

He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. 

Was that a flash of light just now? Is it storming?

He furrowed his brow in confusion, and stepped slowly over to peek through the door. 

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. 

There you were, standing right there in his bedroom. 

Your eyes were wide and looking around, still processing where you had appeared. 

Asmo gasps, forgetting about the bath and hurries over to you. 

“M-MC?!” he shrieks, pulling you into the tightest hug he’s sure he’s ever given. 

You begin to cry, tears falling down your cheeks and onto his shoulder.

“Shhh, MC. Don’t cry now, darling…” he coos, but his own tears are escaping him. 

He holds you close as you cry together. 

“Asmodeus…is… it really you? My Asmo?” you whimper. 

He’s confused by what you mean, but he doesn’t question it for now. 

“Of course my little lamb, it’s me. You’re home now…”

You sniff, pulling away from him slightly. “I’m so sorry Asmo, I swear I didn’t mean to leave you guys like that…”

Taking your hands in his, he shakes his head. “No no, hon, don’t blame yourself for this. I know there’s a very good reason, but you can explain later to all of us, okay?” 

You nod, wiping your eyes. 

“I was just about to get a bath. Would you care to join me, MC?”

The thought of taking a bath with Asmo right now feels…unreal. 

You couldn’t believe you were finally home with him. 

Smiling, he leads you into the bathroom. 

First, he steps out of his robe, and your face flushes. 

You’ll never get over how beautiful he is. 

Then it’s your turn.

You shiver as he begins to undress you, his fingers brushing over your skin. 

He smiles softly as he notices the goosebumps that begin to form on your body. 

“I’ve missed this so much. Let me get a good look at you, darling.”

His eyes tear up again as his eyes travel over your body, still in disbelief that you were standing right there with him again after so long.

“I need all the time I can get with you right now before my brothers find out you’re home.”

He takes your hand and helps guide you into the bathtub. 

You sigh as the warm water envelops you and he places you in between his legs with your back to him. 

You feel his arms wrap themselves around you and you blush.“I’ve only been dreaming of this moment with you, MC.” Asmo murmurs, attaching his lips to your shoulder. 

You whine as he continues to kiss up your neck. 

“I love you so much, Asmo…”

He smiles into the crook of your neck as he holds you close. 

“My dear, if anything came out of your disappearance, it’s how much I realized that I love you. Please, allow me to show you…”

Beelzebub and Belphegor

The twins were always together nowadays. 

They were both getting ready for bed in their room after their long day, neither of them wanting to speak about the disappointing results of the search. 

Belphie hugged his pillow to his chest as he climbed into bed beside Beel. 

He was struggling to stay awake, but he had a peculiar feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Of course, being his twin, Beel felt it too. It wasn’t hunger, or anything like that… It was…

“Belphie do you feel…”

Before he could finish, a burst of light filled the room, temporarily blinding them both.

The sensation of magic through the air sent shivers down their spines. 

Once the light dulled, they glanced up through squinted eyes to see… you. 

Wait, is that really…?

Despite the dull ache in their bodies, they both jump up.

“MC!” their violet eyes are wide as they gape at you, still trying to decide if this was real or a cruel hallucination.

But you seem just as surprised as they are. 

Suddenly, you feel yourself being pulled into a strong embrace. 

Belphie is squeezed into the hug next to you, and you both glance up to see Beel with tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“B-Beel… Belphie…I’ve missed you both so much…”

You sob, burying your face into Beel’s chest.

Belphie finally allows his tears to fall. I’m so lame, he thinks.

How dare you make him cry like this?

But he’s so happy. So relieved. 

Beel begins to move you both towards his bed, placing you right between him and his brother. 

You whimper as you feel their arms wrap around you. 

The thought of being able to do this again with them never even crossed your mind. 

You feel Beel nuzzle his face into your hair. 

You smelled…different. But there was no denying your familiar scent and it made his mouth water.

Belphie yawned, burying his face into your shoulder. 

“Beel and I had each other, but MC… you are our missing piece.”

His twin nodded, placing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“Belphie is right. It feels right again with you here in between us.”

Your heart was so full. 

You smiled wide as you kissed both of their foreheads. 

“My boys…I love you so much.”

As you laid together, they took turns littering you with kisses and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. 

The feeling of their lips and their hands on your body has your head spinning, and you whisper their names between breathless gasps. 

After sometime, Beel turned towards you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. 

“I’m feeling a bit hungry…but for something different. How about you Belphie?”

Belphie immediately sensed where his twin was going and flashed him a smile back.

“I’m all of a sudden wide awake. What do you say you join us, MC? We want you to ourselves before we have to go back to sharing you.”

[heartlesscorpse]

You Will Always Be Mine. ︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑

As I mentioned in some other post w/ my Ghostface hcs— here’s the mini fic w/ prosthetics from Slipknot as inspiration :)) I also used some other stuff from Slipknot like Vermilion and Iowa just to get the whole set in my head and it was fucking difficult at first for me to figure out the opening for this drkgenrgkjdgjnskdverlb my mind went places so fast I was internally giggling like some maniac while writing this 💀💀 Please forgive me this looks like shit even though I edited it over :”)) Before I forget I’ve also got the mini fic posted on my Ao3 which you can read here.

Danny’s eyes fluttered closed, his nose nestled in your hair as he deeply inhaled the scent of your shampoo that always clung to you. Exhaling sharply as his head reeled slowly from your personal space with a quiet groan of satisfaction escaping him. His arms tighten around your unconscious form cradled in his hold, his footsteps carrying confidence as he silently strides through the darkened halls of your home. He finally caved in after a handful of months, watching you from afar whenever he wasn’t busy tormenting some other poor Roseville resident on those nights. Hell, it felt like torture; you being so blissfully unaware of his presence as you’re going about your day-to-day routines. 

Fuck, everything about you just made it so difficult to do his work properly.

Danny never thought, a potential victim of his, would take root inside his mind and fester like an open wound. He adored and loved everything about you. The color of your eyes, your smell, the way you dress, your voice, the sound of your laughter, and that gorgeous smile of yours. Everything.  He can’t even find the words to describe how much he loved you, he was obsessed with you. He had some of your missing belongings, a shit ton of photos of you, anything of yours. Enough stuff to build a shrine completely dedicated to you, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted you, he needed to keep you all to himself. As he propped open the back door with his boot and stepped outside into the crisp cool night air with your body still tucked close to him, the neighborhood was fairly silent other than the faint barks from a dog on some other street as he made it over to his car and carefully set you down lying in the car seat at the back before moving around to climb into the driver’s seat. 

Car key in, ignition started, and he was slowly pulling out from the sidewalks with a grin marring his features behind the mask. Feeling a little giddy from his accomplishments, Danny couldn’t help but softly chuckle to himself. He finally had you, and he planned on keeping you with him forever.  You were his little mouse after all.  He can’t stand the thought of another being so close to you, it always left a sickening pit in his stomach and made his blood boil seeing strangers talk to you. But what’s adding another victim to his body count? He’s just doing his job in protecting you. 

You don’t need anybody else, just him. 

And now, Danny’s home was going to be your home too! Of course, he took into consideration that you were going to be upset or mad at him for this, and he’d have to tie you down to prevent you from leaving his place. He can’t have you escaping him after all that hard work he pulled off. But in time, he hoped you’d grow to accept your new life with him. Danny could feel his heart palpitating from the overwhelming amount of excitement when he pulled into the garage of his place, turning the engine off and moving around back to carefully pluck you out from the car and carry you on inside. Basking in the familiarity of his home to the few newspaper clippings lying around and placing his trusty camera on the counter as he made his way to his bedroom and gently laid you down, cuffing one of your wrists to the bedpost to restrain you from leaving when you wake up soon. 

Danny loomed over your still unconscious form, his head slowly tilted to the side as he pulled his mask aside with a smile slowly curling on his lips, admiring the peaceful expression written on your features. Oh, how completely oblivious you are right now. He leaned down, pressing a kiss at the crown of your head, turning away to leave you in his room to sleep off the effects of the drug. “Sleep tight, dollface.” Danny mused with a whisper, quietly pulling the door shut behind him. 

He had you in his grasp now, and he'll never let you go. You’re rightfully his, his everything. Nobody else gets to have you now. 

You solely belong to him.

☠︎︎༒︎✞︎🕸𖤐

[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter XII : Venus

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

A/N: I realized shortly after posting chapter 11 that I’d made a small mistake in the timeline I’m intending this to follow. I included a line from Din saying Paz had already tried to take the Darksaber from him and failed, but where we’re at now, chapter 5 of The Book of Boba Fett hasn’t happened just yet. So I’ve gone back and deleted that small detail from the previous chapter, and why am I even telling you this, idk, but if you guy could do me a solid and pretend to forget my fuck up, I’d love you forever for it. 

Writing Star Wars is hard

Also, the indomitable @dirtysouvenir has rendered the most gorgeous artwork imaginable of Din and Sithy, and I still can’t quite believe my eyes every time I look at it. Everyone please go show Jonis all the love and praise she deserves. 

Anyways… like always, forgive me for the wait. I love you all for being so patient with me. And shout out to chapter four of Someone’s Wife in the Boat of Someone’s Husband which served as inspiration for this. You will always be famous to me!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.1K

Read on AO3

Tip Jar

CHAPTER XII : VENUS

What are we doing here, and why are our hearts invisible?

Anne Carson, Kinds of Water

“Just like that, yes. Good girl–keep doing what you’re doing.” His hand slides to circle your wrist, leather and the thick weave of your tunic, the slight shake of your nerves caught between. “Grip it firmly, but squeeze it gently. Yes– yes, good. You’re doing so well.”

You suck in a trembling breath, too hyper aware of the feel of his chest plate brushing against your back, the cap of his left knee gently bumping the back of your own, his arms wrapped in a loose and careful cage around your frame where he’s helping you direct the blaster at the target he’d set up several meters away for practicing. He’s got one of your wrists wrapped in the leather of his fist, the other cupping the underside of your elbow to keep your shaking arms steady. 

“I don’t know why I’ve never been very good at this,” you whisper over the sound of the burning desert winds lashing you in the brow. “It’s just never come very easy.”

“That’s alright. That’s why we’re practicing again.” The hand cupping your elbow moves slowly to your waist, all his handling of you these past few days has been so intentional, cautious and patient and aware of himself and you and your reactions. Your heart beats, thumps and thumps hard enough to make you a little dizzy, a little sick. “Keep your right arm firm, but fluid. Try not to lock your elbow, let the recoil move through you steadily.”

He’d covered your hair and face in soft white linen wraps to keep you from being scorched by the sun and sand, and his voice is so deep, head pitched low so that the modulator is vibrating right at the level of your ear, the sounds of him sluicing through the linen to curl around your ear. You shiver again, squeezing your fist too tight around the butt of the blaster. You’d asked him if he’d help you practice just before you’d made planet fall a few hours ago, and now here the two of you are. A few clicks outside of Mos Eisley, he’d found a cluster of sandstacks to land the Crest amidst for a couple hours of target practice—near an area he’d told you is called Beggar’s Canyon. 

You’re not sure if it’s just an excuse to have him touch you, but here you are now, in the circle of his arms, shivering with nerves and heat and want. The sun burns, but the places where he grips you burn worse, and your heart rings in your skull. 

“Focus your gaze between the eyeline, eventually, it’ll come naturally, your aim, but for now, use the field the blaster sets. Squeeze gentle–” He grips your now healed elbow firmly, anchoring your arm, the hand holding your wrist moves to your waist, securing you in his hold so that when you pull the trigger, the zing of the blaster bolt leaving its chamber moves through your limb, into your chest cavity, electrifying your heart, and his hold is steadying all the way through. He’s there to keep you up, keep you strong, and so it’s almost thoughtless when you do it, a gut instinct or some muscle inside your brain desperate to flex and stretch or come awake because faster than you can blink or think, you take hold of that bolt of plasma with your mind, freezing it midway between where the two of you stand and the target he’d set. 

You feel his hands flex around you, but he keeps still and silent, watching, waiting for what you’ll do next. And your heart beats faster and faster, the bright of the sun gleaming and nauseating, refracting off the sand, the plasma, your eyes. The bolt screeches and writhes and defies the laws of nature by your hand, and it does not feel good, but it does feel right. 

The first time you’ve really wielded the Force since the night you escaped. 

There’s something painful and uncomfortable and familiar about it coming back to you. Your breath goes fast within your chest, the taste of the desert on your tongue and the grit of sand sneaking beneath your clothes, sweaty line of anxiety down your spine, and his steady, calm breaths up against your back every other moment, this power inside of you that’s always been the cause of everything bad and only some things good. It vibrates in everything, moves through all living things, the Force, within you, within him. 

“Let it go, cyare. It’s okay if you miss.” You shut your eyes and let it fall away and now it’s not the Force or you or anything else, it’s only him keeping you up against the rest of everything. 

The two of you, like grief and the mountain. 

-

“How did you meet this woman again?” You ask for about the third time, seemingly unable to keep your mouth shut and your nerves to yourself. 

“She’s been keeping up maintenance on the Crest for a while now. And she helped out with the kid, watched him for me a couple times—I trust her.”

“Peli,” you repeat the name contemplatively, taking in the sight of him as he checks the pre-landing codes, flipping switches and punching toggles a little too roughly. He’s agitated, covered and swathed in it. You know he’s worried about you, the way you’ll feel being around someone else, scared you’re still feeling fragile or tired or weak. And you’re accepting it for now because you are. You are tired and you do feel fragile and you do need taking care of. If only for the time being, if only for a little bit longer. A sort of end feels very near, and you’re still working out what that such end is going to be. 

“Peli,” he sighs, hitting the last button and finally swiveling in his chair to face you, and you eye him suspiciously, you know that sigh and head tilt. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Not tired?”

“No.”

“Your shoulder?”

Hurts. “Fine.”

“Cyar’ika.”

“Din.” Another sigh. Another shake of his head. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes at you beneath that stupid lug of metal he wears on his fat head. But you hope that he’s smiling too, and you give him a soft, small one of your own, twisting your fingers together tightly in your lap. You want to reach out for him, to go to him and sit with him and kiss him again like the other day. But you don’t feel ready again. Again, fragile, tired, a weakness of heart within you that you can’t understand the source of, or you can, but you don’t want to accept it, you want to be able to move on, to get over it, to be like you once were. But that you also know he’ll let you feel for as long as you need to.

“I promise I feel okay, and that I’ll tell you if I don’t.” The target practice had left you tired and awake, and there is something moving inside of you—a recognition of sorts you can’t pinpoint exactly, but which you know is going to show or tell you something about yourself soon, the Force, the things you’d done or the things you’d do. And there’s patience too, a waiting, a readiness to receive whatever this would be without pressure or urgency. You feel entirely strung tight, a knot about to be set loose, entirely at ease, as well. Something strange about the anxiety you carry within yourself, like it doesn’t really matter much anymore and is only waiting for the right moment to be expelled. 

He gives a soft grunt and turns back to face the control panel. The rolling golden sands of Tatooine like an ocean before you, and then there in the distance, the littered smattering of sand blighted little buildings that make up the spaceport of Mos Eisley. He directs the Razor Crest towards Hangar three-five, the ship jostling with the lowering of the landing gear. 

“What if she doesn’t like me?” You ask nervously, following him down the ladder once he’s eased the ship into the landing bay, fretting over this ordeal of having to meet someone else from his life, a friend, which wasn’t even something you were aware he knew how to have. You hear the heavy thud of his boots against the durasteel, and then his hands are circling your waist and pulling you down the rest of the way, paying no mind to your indignant squawking. 

He’d been strange with his touch, as well. As if he couldn’t help himself some moments, overcome by habit and familiarity, and then afraid and cautious in others. And you can’t understand how you feel about this either. Grateful, a sort of soft that makes your eyes smart and your cheeks bleed with heat. He’s so aware of you, so aware of what you might want or need, but then overcome, as well, needing you, wanting you. And you feel so afraid you won’t be able to give him those things—the ones he wants or needs, that you won't be able to find your way back to the way things had been between the two of you before. 

“You’ll be fine,” he says, little compassion to be found for your fretting. You stick your tongue out at the back of his head, rolling your eyes and steeling yourself as he lowers the hatch, and a chirpy little voice calls, Mando!

The plank lowers, and lowers, and lowers, and finally, a mess of springy dark curls come into view. The small woman, Peli, claps her hands excitedly and spreads her arms in wide welcome of him, and something in your heart throbs. 

A friend, indeed. 

“Peli,” he greets her, heavy, swaying gate stomping down the gangplank, voice serious and not all matching her enthusiasm. You roll your eyes at him again as the reverberations of his steps tickle your feet through the soles of your boots. 

“Hey, look everyone! It’s Mando,” she says to the chittering droids whirring around her. You follow him slowly, slinking directly behind him so that the breadth of his shoulders conceals you for a second longer before, “And who do we have here? Another unlikely companion?” 

He pivots, letting you step into full view and brave shyness, a hand coming up to hover around your waist, urging you forward, but not actually touching you. The sound of your name rings in tune to the thump of your heart through the modulator. Careful, so careful, and it makes you hurt at your own self. Wanting to touch you one moment, unable to stop himself from ripping you into his arms; another, afraid, feeling like he can’t even put a gently motioning hand on your body, and how will you ever fix this? How are you going to ever be able to get the two of you back to where you were? 

You take a hurt little step away from him, swallowing the heat in your throat several times before you can force a smile onto your face. 

His body shifts and sways towards your retreating one. 

But the small woman steps towards you, pit droids spinning and skittering frantically around her, and she claps a work hewn hand on your shoulder. “Let Peli take a good look at you.” Her gaze is cheerful, full of a youthfulness that belies her age and an even more cheerful, gap toothed smile. “Pretty girlfriend, Mando.” She waggles her bushy brows up at him. “Brought me another set of bright eyes, didn’t’cha?”

“It’s nice to meet you, Peli.” Your throat feels humiliatingly tight when she takes your hand in her smaller one, giving it a swift shake, no gentleness about the way she handles you, and there’s something comforting about the forsaking of the kid gloves. Your fracture isn’t obvious for the whole world to see, there’s still normalcy to be found for you. 

She looks up at Din as you avoid his burning gaze, laughing scowl on her sunny face. “Who woulda thought you had it in, ya, huh?” She thumps a fist on his chest plate, shaking her head and moves to take a look at the Crest. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Chasing down some elusive bounty? Carbon scoring’s worse than last time.'' She chatters a million miles a minute, pulling out some sort of electric scanner, assessing the old gunship. 

“We had a long trip,” he sighs, hands fisted on his hips as he watches her impatiently, turning his gaze back to your face every few moments. You want to bare your teeth at him in a snarl and tell him to stop fucking worrying. You want him to take you into his arms or hold your hand. 

“Long trip, sure. That’s what he always says,” she tells you over her shoulder with a roll of her eyes. “Turns out it’s usually a gun fight or something just as idiotic.”

You snicker, enjoying the easy way she handles your Mandalorian’s surliness, grateful for the cheerful buffer she provides between your own internal angst and his overzealous worrying. “It was a long trip this time, I swear. We’re coming from the Core,” he grumbles, and the two of you follow her while she inspects the damage on the ship, and in a moment of bravery or desperation for normalcy or closeness or just him, you reach up to grip two of his thick fingers in your fist. His hand immediately adjusts and curves to wrap around yours, intertwining your fingers and taking you securely in his grip. You feel him turn to look down at you questioningly, but you refuse to look back. This is normal, this is how it should be, this is what feels right even if you need the barrier of his gloves to feel like you can breathe. 

“The Core! Long way’s.” Hmm, she muses as she goes. “Got a fuel leak.” Again. He huffs. “Taking a vacation now?” She turns back with another smarmy smirk. 

“Something like that.”

“Nice little honeymoon?” She teases. “I could use one of those myself.” She scans something else, and the pit droids chatter and chirp around her, almost full her height, she’s so small. 

“Peli–” he grumbles. Your grumpy, shy boy; you wonder if he ever blushes under that thing, squeezing his hand in yours as tight as you can. 

“Yeah, yeah. No droids, I know. When are you gonna get over that nonsense, huh Mando? It’s about time, you know!” She bends to inspect something closer near the landing gear, covered in carbon scoring here too, examines her scanner again, then clips it back to her utility belt. “Alright, here’s the deal–” But he cuts her off, pivoting while pulling his blaster in one fluid motion to shoot at a poor little droid that's gotten too close. “Hey! Hey! What’ve I said before? You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it!” She shouts. 

“Din–” you scold, gripping the thick of his arm to pull the weapon down. 

“What’ve I told you?” He barks. 

“No droids. No droids. Blah, blah. You have got to get over that! I’m tryn’a make a deal with you here, ya womp rat.”

He jerks aggressively towards another little droid that wanders too close, sending it skittering away in terror, and you pinch his arm beneath the thick duraweave, frowning up at him, be nice, when he looks down at you, giving him a jut of your eyebrow and thrusting your chin at Peli. He groans, cursing low and grumpy in Mando’a. “Fine. What’s the deal?”

“If you let them work on the Crest–” She jerks her chin at the little pit droids quivering behind the crates strewn about the hangar in abject terror of the mean Mandalorian. 

“No,” he cuts her off, stubbornness in every line of his frame. 

“Din!” You scold again, bumping your hip into his. 

“Come on, Mando! I’ll charge you half price–”

“Deal,” he cuts her off again immediately, the cheapskate. 

“Ha!” She hoots and claps loudly. “Droids! Get to work on this lovely man’s ship. Lemme see the cash.” She holds out a grubby palm, wiggling her fingers. “He’s pretty easy, you ever notice that?” She says to you conspiratorially. 

“Constantly,” you can’t help the laugh in your voice. Your first laugh in what seems like years. 

“Loose knickered is what they used to call it back in my day.” And you have to turn your face into his arm to muffle your cackling, listening to him start up another string of curses beneath the helmet.

“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that before, ever,” he mutters sullenly. 

“Well, you’re young.”

“Not that young,” you provide helpfully, big cheesy smile that feels slightly unnatural and rusted spreading across your face. 

“Whoopee, Mando! I like this one! You really do know how to pick ‘em.” She claps him roughly on the shoulder, her little paw slapping loudly against his pauldron. “Anyway, I’ve got somewhere to be for the next couple of days, you see. I’m dating that Jawa again—the one I’d told you about,” she announces, proud as anything, big smile across her leathery face.

“A Jawa?” You repeat, making sure you heard right. 

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, bright eyes. They’re quite furry… very furry, but…” She clicks her teeth together, “You know…” Grins. 

You look up at Din, squeezing his arm in your grip. “Guess I gotta try it.” You’re pretty sure you hear him grumble something to the effect of over my dead body, before he’s agreeing to Peli’s deal with a clap and a shake, and the promise of two hundred and fifty Imperial credits and absolutely no harm done to her droids while she’s gone and they work on the Crest. 

“Treadwell, get in there!” She shouts, and the little pit droid chirps fretfully, trembling behind an R5 unit. “You can’t say no, you’re a droid. Oh, he’s not going to shoot you. Stop being a coward! What is this, a democracy all of a sudden?” Losing the fight, the droid wheels forward to get to work. “Yeah, thought so.” She turns back to you and Din. “You two can stay here, look after the shop while I’m gone? It’ll only be a few days.”

“We have some resupplying to do, but we’ll stay until you’re back,” he promises.

“And you’re not going to shoot my droids?”

“And I’m not going to shoot your droids,” he agrees, but later, you catch the too rough nudge he gives one of the little droids with his boot when he thinks no one’s watching. This man and his droid complex, you roll your eyes. 

“How’s the N-1 keeping up?” He asks as she’s packing up to go. 

“Just how you left her. That honey’s faster than a fathier. You should take her out while you’re here, give that baby a spin. Oh! And I added that turbonic venturi power assimilator I’d mentioned before. Remember? S’how I reconnected with my Jawa,” she nudges you with a wink. “You’re gonna be the fastest ship on the Outer Rim.” 

“You got a new ship?” You ask curiously.

“Just a side project we took up while I had some spare time.” But the way he says it is a little strange, making you pause to look up and try to read the blank face of his helmet. Ah, and he smooths that same hovering hand from before along the line of your spine, an attempt to soothe or quell your curiosity without actually giving you the gift of his touch.  

Peli leaves a few hours later, and she really does have a Jawa lover. The little critter comes to collect her right before the suns set, off to catch the sandcrawler before it journeys off into the desert, leaving you alone with only Din and the little pit droids for company. 

And suddenly, that shyness from earlier is back for some reason. The distraction of travel and the buzz of hyperspace lost to the calm silence of the quiet spaceport as the suns set over the horizon and night settles in, cool winds coming in on the sand gusts from deep in the desert. After hours of work, Din posing as the menacing overlord barking orders and complaints, intruding on their work when it isn’t up to his ridiculous standards, the droids finish up for the night, and Din engages the hangar security system, and then the ship’s, locking the two of you in safely for the night. 

“Dinner?” He asks as he moves slowly around the hull, pulling the cloak from his shoulders, a river of sand sluicing in a rain sheet onto the steel floor. The sound of it has a shiver moving through you as you lower yourself to the floor, crossing your legs beneath you at the edge of your makeshift bed. You desperately want to crawl between the covers without a shower and find the peace of evasion through sleep, secure in the knowledge that he won’t follow you into bed. He’d refused since you’d reunited, even though you’d invited him several times to share the much more comfortable pile of blankets than what you know his pilot’s chair or bunk provide. He’d not taken you up on the offer yet, and right now, fluttering heart and hot eyes and sweating nape, you’re glad for it. 

You don’t know what’s wrong with you—or you do. You’re overwhelmed with want and fear, of him, of his touch, of having lost what the two of you had before. And as you watch him start to pull his armor from his body, first one pauldron, then a vambrace, then a thigh guard, no sense of congruity to the pattern with which he divests himself of his Creed, it’s suddenly like he’s standing right in front of you, and yet you miss him anyway. Miss him in a way that makes you sick and devastated. 

You must make some sort of sound, a funny look on your face or a change in your breathing because he turns suddenly, a too worried, “What’s wrong?” on his tongue. 

“Nothing.” You look up at him from your spot on the ground, head falling back on your neck, and you can feel the wet of your eyes, trying to force yourself not to blink so that they won’t fall—the tears. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He comes to a slow crouch before you, long legs folding down, down. “What is it? Tell me.” Half missing his armor as he poses now, it’s like he’s half him, half yours, half only-man, half Mandalorian. A little bit like what you feel yourself; half, half, half. 

Pulling one glove from his hand, he lifts it, palm spread towards you, showing you his intention before he carefully cups the side of your face; thumb at your pulse, pointer and middle fingers giving your temple a soft pressure, pinky poised at the bridge of your nose. Your lashes brush against his index every time you blink, and his skin is smooth and rough at the same time, and warm—sun-hearted man. 

You press your face harder into his palm, letting him support the weight of your head, nuzzling against the rough of his calluses, blaster blister scratchy against your carotid, and heat pulses all through you from the crown of your head, sliding down the length of your, still yet, too long hair, the back of your neck, your chest, pooling to settle deep in the pit of your belly. 

And yet there’s something missing or different or off, like you feel empty but too full of trepidation to conjure up that old desire you’d always had, that need for him to fill, fill, fill you. Like the heat is there, but it’s remembered, not necessarily present. It all makes you want to cry and scream and go to sleep. 

The truth, and plainly: you’re terrified of anything that might hurt, can’t fathom the idea of it. 

Your heart beats in your throat, you taste it on your tongue, and it mixes with the sad when you say: “Do you remember when we were on Kashyyyk—when we sparred?”

“I remember,” he says, voice deep and low—through the modulator. You hate his helmet. You wish you could get beneath. You wish you were brave enough. The feeling of it coming on sudden and unexpected, thought, bitter and foul and not something you’d necessarily felt before, certainly not so viciously. It’s just that you hate that all this has happened—you want to feel the press of his lips at the crown of your head and the wash of his breath like heat moving through your hair—that you are not in the same place you once were, that you’re too afraid to move forward. 

“When we switched weapons—”

He hums: “Yes.”

“It was so green there.” You turn your face further into him so that you’re speaking into his palm now, words pooling there in the cup of it like a well of truths and fears. 

“It was.” The pointer and index stroke your temple, press once, twice, thrice—harder on the latter. It feels good, it feels real and reminding. He lets a heavy silence pass for a moment, he’s thinking of something, contemplating a push. “Do you remember—” He passes a swallow you can hear the thickness of, “Do you remember how I had you in the dirt—like a fucking animal? How you let me do whatever I wanted, however I wanted.” He gives the hardest press he’s given yet, at your temple, you think you feel the press against your brain, and you open your mouth to let the edge of your teeth dig hard into the meat of his palm. He growls a rough sound, a hungry sound, a sound like one he’d have made when he had you in the dirt like a fucking animal. 

You drag your teeth along the hill of his palm, closing your mouth at the end. You don’t give him the wet of your tongue, you don’t feel ready to taste his skin like that just yet—an assimilation of violence.

“Yes,” you finally say, realizing that he understands what you were thinking without having to say it, or knowing how to, that you’re full of memories of past desires and how badly you want them back and how out of reach that all feels, but also, that suddenly now, in a single blink, the heat in your belly isn’t remembered, but present, alive, awake. That you’re cunt clenches once, twice, thrice around nothing—harder, hungrier on the latter. That you’re wet for him. “I remember.”

“Good. I remember every single thing we’ve ever done.” You roll your face in his palm so that you can look up at him now, feeling something like brave. “Every word, every breath, I remember all of it. Alright?”

“Alright,” you say quietly. 

“And if you need me to help you remember too, then I will.”

“Alright.” And then: “What if I can’t, though?... What if we can’t ever have that again? What if I can’t remember? What if I can never give you that again?” A tear slides over the bridge of your nose, and now it’s not only truths and fears cupped in the palm of his hand but the saltwater of grief too.  

“Then we’ll find something new. A new way, a different way. We’ll do it however you want now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, cyar’ika.” It’s very much a promise, a new Creed being established here. 

“Okay.”

He nods, “Okay.”

-

The water is warm verging on hot verging on scalding. It feels incredible slithering over your tired and sore muscles, the ligatures in your arms still trembling from the blaster practice earlier today, from your overwhelm of emotions. 

You hate that you’re not good at it, that the only weapon that seems to become you is a lightsaber. 

The suds of his earthy smelling soap slide through your hair, slipping down your spine, over your ass and along your legs to pool around your feet and disappear down the drain. You shiver once, as though letting something fall away as you slide your hand down, over the swell of your belly, to cup the palmful of your cunt, wedging your hand between your thighs. You pet slowly at the wet curls there, realizing some of it is also the sticky slick of your desire. You were right, you’re wet for him and your clit pulses, slightly swollen and wanting. Your body is awake and hungry for him for the first time in what feels like eons. 

You explore slowly, your cunt slightly trembling at the feeling of being prodded and touched for the first time in you can’t remember how long. Moaning softly, you pull your fingers from between your legs, hands sliding up now to cup the weights of your breasts in each palm and squeeze tightly. Oh, you want him, you want him, you’re afraid. Your head falls back on a thump against the fresher wall, loud enough that you hear his lurking voice through the door, you okay in there? And instead of being annoyed at his overbearing caution, his hovering, you shiver again, something coming back to you now. 

Your desire. 

You shut the water off, grabbing one of the soft linens he’d slung over the warm pipe for you to wrap yourself in. He knocks a knuckle against the wobbly little door, “Cyar’ika?” 

Looking at yourself in front of the steamy mirror, too long, naiad hair, bright, strange eyes, you want him, you want him, you want to feel alive, awake, anything. You can’t deny your shortcomings, fears, whatever they might be called, but there is yet still a soft place inside of you that they’d not snuffed out, that wants Din still. 

You turn to slide the fresher door open just as he’s readying to knock again. 

He’d showered before you, after he’d fed you your soup and your disgusting fake bread he’d promised he’d find a real substitution for soon enough, and you’d needed a moment alone to sit in your grime and silence, digest your feelings. He’s clad now in one of his soft, dark undershirts, his flight pants and the helmet, opposite your towel and water dewed skin, steaming from the hot fresher. 

You watch a swallow pass through his throat, words caught, slow and heavy. He clears it once, twice, tilts his head down to take in the state of you, before he says, “You alright?”

You nod, wide eyed awake. He’s standing right in front of you and you miss him and you want to shock him wide eyed awake too. “The water was too hot. I got dizzy,” you lie, swaying towards him a little, letting your lashes flutter dramatically. 

Not all the way, but enough, just a little, as much as you can bear, that’s what you want from him right now. 

His hands come up to grip the sides of your arms immediately, his bare hands, soaking up the wet of your skin. He pulls you into himself, pressing you carefully against his chest, and you shiver and shake against him, teeth rattling with a sound entirely lacking temperance. Your blood feels like it’s boiling, there’s desire alive and writhing in your tummy, and you squeeze your thighs together tightly, shifting from one foot to another while you drip a puddle onto the cold floor. 

“Come here, sit down,” he murmurs, gently moving you to your bed, easing you down onto it slowly. “You need to take it easy,” he clucks over you, gripping your elbow to let you down carefully, keeping his hands on your bare skin until the last moment. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re still tired, you’re still recovering. And you never listen. You have to listen to me when I’m trying to take care of you. You don’t eat enough, and I know your shoulder still hurts, little liar. Your elbow is barely better, and I saw you making strange faces when you were walking up the plank the other day. Your hip hurts doesn't it? Or your knee, something. No, don’t answer. I know you’ll just say no.” He talks and talks and talks, and you love him and you think that— 

There’s a name for this…

He’d told you he loved you and he’d not said it again, neither had you, it felt too huge a thing to talk about again just yet while there was still so much left to discuss and bridge, but what does it matter if your body sings or screams in pain when you have the love of this beskar titan? What could you care for all the rest of everything?

Yes, Din. Yes, Din. Whatever you say, Din, as he huffs and puffs and arranges you, brings another pillow and blanket from the bunk, his only one in there, not that he cares, lovely man. 

And it’s not only that you feel like you need to give him the things he wants or needs, because of course you do. You love him, you need to be able to give him things, everything, you want to be able to give him the whole galaxy. But it’s also that you want to. That to give him what he desires is to feed yourself, to live together, to be together, to give each other the things you need to stay alive. 

You let yourself fall back onto the soft blankets slowly, this nest where you’ve always felt so safe and so protected and so loved, even when neither of you knew it was love that was holding you here. And you watch him for a few anxious moments as he pulls the covers this way and that, tucking them here and there, trying to avoid looking at the bare expanse of your dew damp legs. But then, taking hold of his hand, you still his nervous movements, and he finally looks up at your face, letting go of his fretting, taking hold of the bravery in the palm of your hand. 

Shy—but brave. Brave—and wanting. 

“We’ll take care of each other, won’t we?” You want to tell him you love him again, but there’s something slightly terrifying, gloriously intimate and fragile about the words. 

“Always.”

“And we’ll keep each other alive?” Maker, I hope we keep each other alive. 

“Yes.”

You take hold of the edge of the linen covering you, revealing your naked body to him slowly, exposing your soft underbelly. You hear his breath hitch, exhale on a groan that sounds like dying. His grip on your hand goes tight to the point of bone crushing pain for one brief, brief moment before he remembers himself and gentles again. You shiver at the pain, belly swooping and quivering with fear and nausea and lust. 

You wish you could see his eyes, his face, his want. 

“You—” he stutters, swallows, “You don’t have to, my love.” My love. He doesn’t need to say it out loud again now with teeth and tongue, he says it in all the things he does. 

“You have to know that I want you so much. That I want you more than anything, Din.”

“I do know,” he says immediately. “I’ve never doubted that.” 

“I want to show you.”

“You don’t have to. I know—” His other hand comes up to grip yours with both of his, caging your limb within the strength of his fists—to keep himself from touching you anywhere else, you think. But you can feel the intensity of his gaze along your skin, over your bare breasts, quivering with your hitching breaths, water droplets translating the frantic beat of your heart in their trembling on the surface of your skin. The line of your belly, the slope downward to the soft place between your thighs. 

He’d seen the scarring on your hand, it was inevitable as much as you’d wished you could hide the deformity they’d left. As much as you wish you could’ve kept it from him, held an illusion for the rest of your lives together to spare him from the reminder of the things that’d been done, happened, chosen. But now… now he is to be subjected to the whole truth of it. Scars like cobwebs, strangely shimmering in silver lights beneath the surface of your skin—they’d been clever and ingenious in their torture—covering the whole circumference of your left hand up to your elbow. But also, from the lowest point of your last rib, over your right hip, traversing lower down the contours of your skin to wrap around the uppermost swell of your thigh. 

They’d left their mark like they’d intended, and it wasn't something you could ever hide from him, the reality of what’d been done, what you’d chosen. It was obvious in everything, etched into your skin, a chasm in the still present distance between the two of you. 

You feel like a bruise; tender, vulnerable, incongruously desperate to press on it harder and feel that dull throb, dark and ugly and on display. 

His hands go tight around yours again for a moment, before he’s snatching them back to grip his bent knee, white knuckled, silent anger on display when his eyes reach the scarring. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, smoothing a hand over your hip down to your thigh to grip yourself there, digging your fingertips lightly into the plush softness. Your skin vibrates. “It doesn't hurt now.”

“What did they do?” His voice is like gravel, restrained fire-full fury. 

“They wanted to see what it’d take to leave a mark. They figured it out.” The helmet turns away sharply, a short, brutal curse spit from his mouth. The tongue of his mother, beautiful despite his violence. 

“It’s okay, Din.” You take hold of your thigh, pulling it up and apart, spreading yourself for him. Brave, wanting heart, be brave. He turns back immediately. “I want you to see how much I want you,” you whisper. “How much I still need you.” 

You let your fingertips flutter lightly over your swollen, needy sex, and you can hear the obscene, sucking sound of your wet lips spreading apart when you part your legs wide enough for your sex to bloom. Cunt hungry and weeping for him. 

Fuck, he spits, leaning closer, and his hand snaps forward to grip your ankle all the way around, pulling your foot up onto the uncompromising muscle of his thigh—your only point of contact. 

“Show me, cyar’ika. Show me how much that pretty cunt missed me,” he growls. 

You start slow, wide eyes fixed on the dark tee of his vizor, fingertips swirling around your clit slowly, it pulses and throbs and beats to the rhythm you can feel his own heart beating at within his own chest. But you pet it slowly, teasing both of you, and then feel lower down to the clenching mouth of your cunt—fuck, he spits again—slicking your fingers in your sticky wet. You start to rock your hips against the flat of your hand, the sound of your cunt, loud in the quiet hull, nothing to interrupt but the too desperate sound of your mutual panting. His fingers around your ankle are so tight they’ll leave a sore spot, and you can't think of the later hurt now, afraid it'll scare you out of this, all you can focus on is the beat of your cunt, the way it cries for him. 

You swirl your fingertips at your opening, again, again, “Put them inside. Let me see you fuck yourself.” And it’s a demand. 

You start with one, slow and tentative, a little, shocked gasp as you probe shallowly within the tight, little hole. Then further, wiggling inside until you’re impaling yourself with your own small finger, the first thing inside of you in so long, and suddenly, you wish it was him. Your eyes fill with tears at the thought, spilling over at the wish that he could’ve been the first thing inside of you after all this time, but the reality that you’re just not ready for it yet. The salted proof of your inevitable shortcomings slide back along your cheeks to drip into your ears. 

“Another,” he demands. “Oh, it sounds so pretty, little one. Give it another.” You pull your single finger out, sucking, wet-cunt sound that he groans in tune with, to press another one in, mewling at the pinch and stretch of it, the slick slide. Yes, just like that. You’re doing so well, he says, a mirror of his earlier words to you today during target practice. “Roll your hips, ride your hand.” You hitch another sob, “Don’t fucking cry,” he grits, pressing your heel hard into the meat of his thigh. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re going to come for me, you’re going to let me see it.” He spreads his thighs wider in his kneeling crouch, pushing his hips forward into nothing, drawing your gaze to the heavy bulge behind the plaquette of his flight pants. He’s so hard. 

You crook your fingers inside yourself, hill of your palm against the swell of your engorged clit, fingertips against the spongey ridge at the front of your cunt, rolling your hips faster, chasing the orgasm you need to give him. Your foot feels numb in his grip, your cunt, on fire, so tight it hurts. Your belly hitches and heaves, open mouth gasping and you cry his name, moaning and writhing wantonly, your stomach slick and glistening again with sweat now instead of water. One of your palms reaches up to take hold of your breast, nipple caught between your fingers, squeezing tight, tight, tight. And suddenly he’s surging forward, letting go of your ankle to lean over you and rip his pants open, freeing his furious erection. The tip is red-purple and swollen fat, drooling a thick string of sloppy, white precum, and he wraps one massive fist around the angry thing. Din, Din, Din. He beats at his cock furiously, the sound of your name, the slick thwack, thwack, thwack of it sends you spilling into your orgasm, belly pulling tight, cunt twisting even tighter. 

“Fuck, fucking come—fucking come,” he snarls as he twists his fist cruelly around the head and the thick white viscosity of his semen starts to spill from the fat head, bubbling up and over his fist and between his fingers, splattering heavy and hot onto your spasming cunt, coating your fingers so that you’re pushing the thick of his come into yourself, slicking you further. “Yes, yes, yes, like that. Let me fucking see it…Look at what you do to me.” And there's so much furious want in his voice, and he’s so big, long and thick, and you know it’s going to hurt when he puts it inside of you for the first time again—you remember how it hurt before, how you loved it—and you’re afraid you’re not going to be able to handle any sort of pain ever again, not even the sort you’d been so hungry for before. 

But your womb pulls tight, pulses and throbs, and suddenly your two skinny fingers arent enough, you want the thick heft of his cock fucking hard and fast and deep inside of you, punching at the deepest spot within you.

His orgasm ends on a fierce groan, panting, thick chest heaving, his head hangs low between his shoulders. You pull your shaking fingers from your clenching hole, and he gives a few last lazy strokes, squeezing the last drops of come from the slick tip to splatter against your pussy. “I fucking missed this—your cunt covered in me.” His dripping cock bobs so close, and you have the sudden insane thought of him just shoving it in, holding you down prone and fucking all of his spend into your sloppy cunt, forcing you to take it and be his again. “I can’t wait to eat it. I can’t wait to fill it with my come again and eat it out of you.” There’s a part of you that might want it, that might wish for it. 

“Maker, Din…” you moan, rubbing the thick semen into your overstimulated clit, your mound, up the curve of your belly, slicking yourself in him.

 If you can’t have his touch, this is enough, and you bring your sticky, soaking fingers up to your mouth, sucking the come from them. He groans, not fair, sitting back on his knees, spent cock hanging obscenely from his open pants, wet and glistening. He reaches behind his head to tug his shirt up and off, leaving his sweaty chest bare and gleaming. Your eyes flutter shut, cupping your cunt in the palm of your hand, covering the slick curve of it, and you arch your back, spreading your thighs further, putting yourself on display for him. 

“Gorgeous, cyar’ika,” he says between pants. “So pretty, my love.” He reaches down to squeeze his half hard cock once more. “I can be patient for you, I promise. You’re so worth it.”

-

He lays beside you in the dark, stretched out long and entirely clothed, but here with you, forced and convinced to share your bed with a line of pillows as a protective moat between the two of you at his own insistence.

You’re on your side, hands folded beneath your smushed cheek, wide eyes searching fruitlessly for the shape of him in the pitch dark. You want to say something else. You want to tell him you love him again, to hear the words fall from your tongue. 

“What are you thinking?” He asks.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” You hum a barely breathed laugh. And then, “I know you’re scared or regretful or worried that we’ll not get back to where we were,” he reads you.

“Yes.”

There’s a name for this…

He sighs long, goes quiet for longer, and then finally: “What’s happened’s happened, which is an expression of faith in the mechanics of the galaxy.”

“Fate?” You muse, a little unbelieving.

Dark red—

“Call it what you want. We met, we separated…you were—gone. We waited. Now we’re here again. It’s meaningful, isn’t it?”

“Yes. You believe in this—fate?” I didn’t think I believed in anything anymore. But I believe in you.

“Call it what you want, but yes.”

—String. 

There’s something about this that you need to consider, chew on. The fact that you’d felt, all your life, cursed to know how a thing would happen, be, end, always. Something like fate, perhaps, the whisper of it making a home for itself within the shell of your ear, and now the truth that he too believes in this thing you’ve always lived with. Destiny, what have you—you believe in the same things, you believe in each other. 

“Will you hold my hand?”

He turns over, reaching to twine his fingers through yours; large, rough palm against small, soft palm. You want to tell him you love him again, you want to hear the words for him, but they feel trapped, tender, timid. 

You’d always thought your destiny fixed, poised, on the tip of your tongue. A thing was what it was birthed unto the galaxy in perpetuity, and no amount of desire could absolve you of its sunken teeth. But this—this desire is like the creation of myth, that dark red thread that goes by the name of fate being pulled taught, humming in accord with a frequency heard only by the two of you. 

Now: “Will you kiss me?” A beat of silence, his fingers around yours going tight, tight. 

“Come here,” his voice blends with the darkness, and tugging you into himself, protective border between your bodies and his hand around your jaw, he slips a kiss onto your tongue. His mouth holds the hot recollection of being alive; the drag of his teeth against your bottom lip, the taste, your fingers weaving through his hair, your names sounding together, a pair because they belong on the same breath. 

You pull back, and it’s only a small brevity, but it’s enough, and that confusion from earlier, that shiver of letting something go or taking it back into yourself, settles. 

You’re afraid or regretful or both, yes, sure. You also find yourself to be, suddenly, forgiving, full of empathy. You won’t be able to have him unless you take possession of yourself first, and on the tail end of a comet breaking across the sky: I love him, but I must also love myself. He deserves someone who loves themself, but more than that, I deserve it too. To be able to give him the things he wants and needs: I deserve to be in love with myself. 

You let the Tartarian memory become nothing.

 Love manifests itself primarily in forgiveness.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

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[zeroducks-2]

This is quite random sorry but has Dick ever acknowledge (or as close to it) that a lot of things that Bruce did to him are abusive? (this is for a fic I’m trying to write)

Yes and no!

Dick knows Bruce is an assholes and WILL yell at him to stop being an asshole, or at least he used to. Dick would call him out on his BS and wouldn't let him get away with a lot of things, but this was once upon a time, before they rebooted everything and erased decades of character development. The closest he gets to that post reboot is after Forever Evil - everyone thinks Dick is dead, and Bruce wants people to keep thinking that, hence he forces Dick to join Spiral and become Agent 37.

Dick is, as you can imagine, not thrilled. He yells and fights and Bruce beats the everloving shit out of him in a very upsetting sequence, where Dick is half naked and Bruce is wearing most of his gear while he keeps hitting him to the point of leaving him bleeding on the floor of the Batcave.

Dick begs and tries to appeal to everything he can including the "things can never be the same between us after this", to which Bruce essentially replies that it's a sacrifice he's willing to make. Ha. I say that this is especially upsetting because Dick went through a horribly traumatic experience during the events of Forever Evil, in which among other things he was tortured by Thomas Wayne Jr AKA Owlman, who wanted to turn Dick into his own sidekick after losing his Talon. The way Bruce beats and humiliates Dick is drawn in a way which creates a clear parallel between Thomas and Bruce's actions towards Dick, in a way that suggests they're "not that different after all", but this narratively goes nowhere and I don't get why they fuck they even came up with that. But anyway.

All of this gets forgotten soon enough. Despite his own warnings Dick forgives Bruce after a very short time, pines for home and tries to communicate with Bruce in any way he can because he "misses his dad", which to be honest made my guts churn and my bile rise after Bruce nearly beat him comatose. Essentially the story forgets Bruce did all of that and so does Dick, but for the brief time Dick was allowed to be aware of it and angry about it, he was indeed aware that he was being abused even if he never used the word abuse.

This is the case for lots of stories in which similar instances happen, as I mentioned before especially pre-reboot. Dick does call Bruce out on his bullshit - especially if Bruce is being an abusive asshole to someone else, since Dick is way more prone to defend other people than he is to defend himself, like here

or here

But despite being obviously aware that there are issues in the way Bruce does things, to put it mildly, he never uses the word "abuse" (which is sort of a prohibited word for DC standards, kind of like "rape". They're way more likely to say non consensual than rape because it's a less upsetting word apparently).

There is an instance of this post reboot, and it's during a conversation Dick has with Tim. I believe it happens in the Pride comics of 2022, but I don't have the panels on hand at the moment. Basically Tim asks for advice on how to please Bruce, being the man demanding and prone to bad moods, and Dick flat out replies "I spent a very big part of my life trying to please him, and I left when I realized it was impossible" which to me is so interesting since it's the textbook reaction of a former Golden Child who fell from grace and became a Scapegoat (please note that tumblr's definition of Golden Child is completely arbitrary; golden child doesn't mean "good kid", it means a child who the parent holds to the highest standards, on which there are the biggest expectations and the strongest pressure regarding everything the child does. Sometimes a parent lives vicariously through them and perceives them as an extension of themselves, but not necessarily. If you watched Encanto, Isabella is the Golden Child of the family).

Something similar happens during Nightwing's run from the 90s.

Dick lives in Bludhaven and at this point he's gone essentially no-contact with Bruce. Tim, being the new Golden Child, is trying to reel Dick back into the toxic dynamic because he genuinely thinks it's going to be good for both Dick and Bruce.

I'm pointing this out not to fault Tim in any way, he's just a kid what does he know, but to show you that indeed yes, Dick is aware that he's been abused otherwise he wouldn't have left, he wouldn't be on a no talking basis with his parental figure, and he wouldn't reply to Tim that he spent so much time of his life deluding himself into thinking that Batman actually needed him. Of course this also goes nowhere and their relationship isn't allowed to grow or heal (things are just conveniently forgotten after a while), but as I mentioned, Dick knows what's up.

That being said, I believe it's also worth noting that many many times Bruce abuses the fuck out of Dick and Dick doesn't really acknowledge it, just takes it. Sometimes he doesn't have the spoons to fight back, sometimes he thinks he deserves it, sometimes he just doesn't know how to react because Bruce strikes like an unprovoked viper (this happens especially when Dick was still a kid but already a Titan). A very good example of this is what happens after Jason's death.

Bruce doesn't tell Dick that Jason died. When Alfred offers to let him know, Bruce says "I will handle it", and he doesn't. Then there's Jason's funeral and Bruce doesn't tell Dick about it, again Alfred offers to inform him, Bruce says he will handle it. He doesn't.

Eventually Dick finds out for collateral reasons and has an emotional breakdown in front of the other Titans, which are powerless to help him. For reference, this is how he reacts when he has definitive proof that the boy is undoubtedly gone, if there was any doubt that Dick did care about Jason.

So Dick goes to the grave with Kory but then decided to confront Bruce alone, and Bruce, in the abusive feat of the century, blames Dick for not having showed up to Jason's funeral, despite having refused to 1: tell him about Jason's death AT ALL, and 2: refused TWICE when Alfred very gently suggested to inform Dick.

Dick of course argues that he didn't know anything, and so Bruce reacts by gaslighting him, telling him they he never cared about Jason and in fact he was angry that Bruce adopted Jason and not him. Which is not true, Dick just wanted to know WHY Bruce adopted Jason and hot him. Oh and also punches him in the face when Dick tries to argue that Jason was an untrained kid. Please note that when all of this happens, Dick is hurt and can barely stand on his feet, having one of his legs in a cast.

Cherry on top, Bruce explicitly saying that he never should have had a partner and never will again, essentially "our partnership up to this point meant nothing".

In this instance Dick is too neck-deep in his own self guilt to see that he's been through a sequence of extremely abusive behavior, and never really faults Bruce for that, using the easy-coming rationalization that Bruce was in pain, suffering for Jason's death, couldn't see reason etc etc (quick PSA: someone suffering isn't entitled to abuse and gaslight anyone. And even if we really want to enable Bruce cut Bruce some slack because he was grieving, it doesn't make his behavior any less abusive. Regardless of the reasons why, the way he acts here is very damaging towards Dick who in turn did nothing to deserve it, and is grieving Jason too).

See, the problem with Dick and Bruce is the sysyphean nature of comicbooks. Dick is doomed to be the original Golden Child who falls from grace, becomes the Scapegoat, but ultimately can never be completely free of the clutches of the relationship he has and had with Bruce, for better or worse. And since he can't ever truly get out and can't ever completely be independent, the abuse end up getting downplayed. If Dick never truly gets away from Bruce it's because it's not that bad, isn't it? Nay, it's because Dick cant. He is quite literally not allowed to, same as Bruce is not allowed to truly grow from his mistakes and learn to treat his former partner, sort-of-child and dear friend with the respect and love he actually feels for him, because despite all of this and because this is fiction, Bruce does love Dick more than it can be put into words and would set the world on fire for him. But, alas, he also is doomed to keep treating Dick like shit and never really learn from his mistakes.

So again, the answer to your question is yes and no. Dick is aware of how much of a difficult person Bruce is. He's aware of the domineering aspects of his personality. But he will ultimately brush it off in the name of the good that there is and there was between them, and he will keep answering Batman's call every time, because he's not allowed to ever truly grow apart from him. It doesn't matter how much he gets angry and how much Bruce hurts him, they're indissolubly tied in this dynamic and unless there is a huge shift in the way DC execs handle things, I don't see how this dynamic can change in the foreseeable future. Sadly enough, because I'd really like to see something new.

[zarla-s]

Man it's been a long time since I've done an ask cluster! Let's see if I can get some down...

He's an extremely fun character to write for and play with! So in that sense I'm fond of him, haha. He's such a huge disaster of a person, there's always something fun to do with him. Well "fun" in a relative sense.

I don't have anything to forgive him for, he didn't hurt me. |D He hurt the brothers!

I do have an idea for a cute feature inspired by Six-Eared Macaque! I should really sit down and do that already... and finish the one I half started but never finished...

I don't think my opinion on any of them changed! I love them all, haha. Which ones I drew comics about just depends on which ones I get ideas for really. Sometimes I get Alphys ideas and sometimes I get Goatparents ideas! Inspiration is fickle!

I don't have any solid plans or anything. :B Just gonna keep chugging along with silly comics and art! Work on Defrag and such. I'd like to finish a Ladyverse comic I've had lying around forever, and I had vague plans for doing a doujin for them too I could work on... and also seeing if I could format Handplates into a book format... I've always got a bunch of projects, haha.

It works on that level! It wasn't intentional though. |D

I do enjoy speculation! I don't really have much of my own though, I didn't predict anything in chapter 2 so now I'm assuming I can't predict anything in the future chapters either, haha.

Emesis Blue is great! Some really beautiful visuals in there, very striking! Love the mood of it too and a lot of the surreal imagery. I think it helped spur me back into TF2 again, haha. Medic and Scout's relationship was so cute.

I have thought about this! It has its share of challenges though... I outlined them more in this post. A pdf would be more doable though... could even include some extra stuff as well! Hmm...

I can see that! He'd probably spend as much time out in the rain as he could just doing whatever to stay outside.

It was pretty much always going to end like that. I always wanted it to end on a hopeful note! Which might seem weird with how dark it is at the beginning. I DID for a brief period at the very beginning of Handplates think about stopping with the Pacifist run, but that was only because I thought going where I wanted to go would take too long and already the project seemed so dauntingly huge at the time, haha. But it was always going to end in a positive way!

Gaster talks about what he originally intended to create here, and he explains a bit about the physical experiments he runs on the brothers here. They aren't really a solution in and of themselves so much as tools to try and find a way to break the barrier. Really though, Gaster got stuck in the sunk-cost fallacy lol.

I don't really have opinions about what canon Gaster would be like. |D Handplates Gaster is his own thing really. Canon Gaster, who knows! Deltarune Gaster, who knows! I will say I hope Gaster stays a mystery in Deltarune and never actually shows up but I think the odds of that are really low at this point.

I thought about doing a script along those lines! I did a few rough drafts of one, but it never really went anywhere... it'd end up dead-ending or kind of meandering off. I might see if I can get an actual script down for a side-comic or something in the future... it might be better suited for a fic.

I was just thinking about this lately! I was picturing Gaster totally forgetting about that until he sees Papyrus squinting and is like OH GOD YOUR EYES THAT'S RIGHT D: and goes to get him looked at lol.

I couldn't come up with a good idea for Flowey which is a shame, I do like him, haha. If one comes to me though I might make a little side comic about it!

Gaster's LV is complicated... his stats in-game are ludicrous if I recall correctly. Did he carry the damage from his murders into the void, even if those murders weren't his in the new timeline? Deep thoughts.

He fed them anything he could find, haha. Which is why sometimes they just ended up with chocolate bars (which he intended as dinner for himself). He probably fed them more often than he fed himself lol. He did feed them fairly regularly though.

Not about skeletons, probably. |D

Man I know I had an explanation for this but it was so long ago... it's hard for me to remember. It could be that the Riverperson is just weird and has weird insight into elements of things, had a prophetic dream... I don't know! It bugs me now that I can't remember this, haha.

[jaysbraindump]

Dead Boy Detectives characters as Sleeping At Last songs: a very long post

Edwin – Nine

Who am I to say what any of this means I have been sleepwalking Since I was fourteen Now as I write my song I retrace my steps Honestly, it’s easier To let myself forget Still, I check my vital signs Choked up, I realize I’ve been less than half myself For more than half my life

Wake up Fall in love again Wage war on gravity There’s so much worth fighting for you’ll see Another domino falls Either way It looks like empathy To understand all sides But I’m just trying to find myself Through someone else’s eyes So show me what to do To restart this heart of mine How do I forgive myself For losing so much time?

Charles – Eight

I wanna break these bones 'til they're better I wanna break them right and feel alive You were wrong, you were wrong, you were wrong My healing needed more than time When I see fragile things, helpless things, broken things I see the familiar I was little, I was weak, I was perfect too Now I'm a broken mirror But I can't let you see all that I have to lose All I've lost in the fight to protect it I can't let you in, I swore never again I can't afford to let myself be blindsided I'm standing guard, I'm falling apart And all I want is to trust you Show me how to lay my sword down For long enough to let you through

Here I am, pry me open What do you wanna know? I'm just a kid who grew up scared enough to hold the door shut And bury my innocence But here's a map, here's a shovel Here's my Achilles' heel I'm all in, palms out, I'm at your mercy now and I'm ready to begin I am strong, I am strong, I am strong enough To let you in

Crystal – Smell

Is this the part where the brain scan shows where memories reside? Some ambiguous shape in me, suddenly producing light Triggered like a trip wire every time I breathe it in Isn't it strange that a lilac tree is what unlocks where I've been? Like a time machine rebuilds the past My memories return Like remembering the ashes before they burn It is the friction that lights a match Desperate attempts that make it last So I hold my breath for as long as I can But before long, the wind swells in I started a fight I could never win But I will hold on as long as I can

Niko – Some Kind of Heaven

I'm having trouble sleeping Keep thinking my phone's ringing I wake in a panic, what's wrong now? Nervous system's acting up I'm worried it's forever messed up Now being awake feels unsafe Please, help me remember The voice of my mother Reminding me everything's okay

She deeply believed it

Just a little longer Everything will make sensе Broken things will be remadе But what about the meantime? How do I ignore the signs That one day, everything I love will fade?

Monty – Wave After Wave

Wave after wave, I'm more afraid It's been a hard year, it's been a high tide I can make it make sense, but my body decides I keep telling myself again and again It's been a hard year, healing takes time Routine test results, I'm probably fine I know better I know better But it doesn't really matter My body decides One part at a time I am the sail, the plank The mast that breaks and gets replaced I am remade, repaired, reshaped But somehow still the same Even after every cell in my body changed I know my name

Jenny – Homesick

You spend your whole life Just to remember the sound When the world was brighter Before we learned to dim it down Call it survival Call it the freedom of wills; Where breath is borrowed Our compass needle stands still Our resignation only comes on beaten paths

When the world was flat We dreamt of its edges… If love’s elastic, then were we born to test its reach? Is it buried treasure Or just a single puzzle piece

The Cat King – To Be Enchanted

I see longing in its eyes I can't quite put my finger on it There's just something about its face That makes me sad It's as much afraid as it's haunted I've never related more To anything or anyone before I can't explain it Politely, I asked, "Are you real?" It said, "Here, let me prove it" It placed its hand in my hand And neither one of us could feel it "Don't kill the messenger", it begged "You're alive, quit acting like you're dead" Like a mirror, it spoke so clear "Don't you recognize the reason why you're here?"

[captain-uncharted]

My Little Princess - A Duskwood Fanfiction

Hello there! This is my first ever fanfic. I actually wrote it around 2022, but have never had enough courage to post it. But I'll give it a try. Hope you guys like it. Please forgive any English mistakes, it's not my native language.

:)

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Prologue: Three years after getting married, Jake and MC have a daughter. While spending some time alone with his baby, Jake reflects on the change in direction that his life took.

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I look at the little sleeping bundle, you, in my arms. The fruit of my love with MC. If someone had told me a few years ago what my life would be like in the future, I would say that this someone was delusional. I was alone and lost. An internationally wanted hacker, with no ties of blood or friendship in to support.

But then my half-sister was kidnapped, and then I met your mother. She was the one who saved me, who trusted me, even without knowing me. She showed me the love that I had long forgotten. Because of her, I had the strength to overcome obstacles that prevented us from being together. She made me feel alive again. I owe everything to her.

And now, daughter, you are here. Your mother and I waited several months to see your beautiful face. We spent a few sleepless nights, wondering together if you would have my eyes or hers (I won!), we made a long list of names for you. It took some time, but we found the right name: Emma.

You wake up suddenly with a grunt, move your fat little arms and open your eyes for me.

– Shhh...it's okay – I whisper while rocking you gently –, mommy went to sleep, but daddy is here with you. I'm looking out for you. I kiss your head, your smell is intoxicating. But you seem uncomfortable and nervous.

– Did you have a nightmare? I know how it is, I also have nightmares too, but about my past. I'm afraid I'm dreaming and realizing that nothing have changed when I wake up. One day I will tell you my story.

You blink and look at me intently, seeming interested in listening to me.

– I'll tell you a part. I was raised by my mother, but it was just the two of us. There was a missing piece, which my father should have filled in, but he didn't. And the pain that the lack of his presence caused me will never be extinguished.

– But I promise that I will be for you everything he wasn’t for me. You can count with me for anything. I want you not to forget that you are my precious one. I'm gonna take care of you and mommy forever, okay?

You yawn, but keep looking at me.

– I’ll take you fishing, eat ice cream with you and take pictures of you with your face smeared. I will be the best father in the world for you.

I keep rocking you as you yawn again, getting ready for a new sleep session. I feel a lump in my throat, a huge wave of joy spreads for my being. I quickly wipe my eyes and continually:

– It doesn’t matter how old you are. You will always, always be my little princess.

[hyunpic]

HAIIIIII HAIIIII HAIIIII II III II i hit a big milestone on skz comeback day so i decided to do a lil thank u post or whatever idk. ive never done one of these in my tumblr career . As u can see ….. and the quality of the banner is trash just like where hyunjin almost fell. Can u just think of it as 5 minutes of crafts and like this is sooo five years old child making a Mother’s Day card to her mom. It’s full of love anyway 😻 i was writing this post while taking hits of my vanilla vape and it ran out of nicotine juice so im struggling and can’t focuse anymore 👍 pls forgive me this is gonna be very messy 😄

anyway these are no in particular order and sorry if i forgot someone 😔😔😔😔 this is what makes me so nervy that i have never made a post like this before like 😔 i don’t want to forget anyoneeeeeee also tumblr wouldn’t let me add more so blame them and not me DUMBLR 😡🍅🍅🍅🍅 thank u so much for sticking around and u are all so very dear to me in all of your unique ways:

@woozis @woodziecup @christakisbang @y-eontan @hyuncheols @ughbehavior @londonsboy @minchanz @minhosblr @morgoth @leenope @theboytatu @shnryjn @yang-innie @snug-gyu @jinniebit @ttathinker @digitalgirls @agibbangs @haenglixie @bangzchan @megaversed @yangjeongin @hyunchanz @seungminhos @chanstopher @chanrizard @djxiao @possession1981 @yunwooz @hyunjinz @exocean @onedoors @seungmoes @geniaparadox @kimtaegis @hyunjinz @cowboybin @farascha @wooobinz @taedongz

@strayklds: em i love to see u in my notifications and in my dms and perceiving u content and and and and etc. seeing u here always feels like the biggest warmest and welcoming hug. you are simply just like jisung - the best friend shaped guy and ilu so much for that 💖

@hanarchy: WAAAAAAA my chris.. this is so different cause we have actually met. thank y for always taking care of me… u are so so dear to me. like i will never forget the feeling of breaking down in tears when we got to lolla area and i realized i will see skz and u made sure i was okay. it will be my core memory till im in my death bed. i love u and your company and that we can bitch to each other about stuff and u just get me and i get u… i hope we can keep holding hands and making many more memories together 💘

@wantbytaemin: MY FUCKING MAIN SLAYEEEEEER it’s no joke that u stan taemin and u are a queen yourself as well… like greatness recognizes greatness. a piece of my heart is still in that weird little airbnb i shared with you in paris and whenever im sad i wish i could be there with you. my forever destined roommate or whatever idek. but i love u with all of my heart. The way we clicked right away when we met is crazy to me like i felt like i had known u forever. U are just soooOoooo amazing words can’t even describe 💘 ilyilymwahhhh

@izayaki MYYYYYY CARLYBEANNNNNNN MY CARLYBEANNNNNNNN MY CARLYBEANNN I FUCKING LOVE U U ARE EVERYTHING TO ME!!!! you could only treat me as your local sandman if u wished but i wouldn’t care like i love u so much!!!! i know i can always count u to be so crazy with me when it comes to hyunjin. also i feel like it’s worth mentioning that u make me feel so comfortable around u. i feel like i can finally be like myself whenever i talk with you :(( like u accept me just how i am and it means so much to me… idk i just feel like i will love u unconditionally and 4ever or whatever katy perry said in that one hit song of hers.

@sunmisbf we will one day smoke together. like idec how many years it will take. we will sit at that porch when we are 80 years old grandmas and we will share a joint and talk about our good old kpop days. u are a delight here and i would feel so empty if i didn’t follow u.

@dowoonyoon: my favoritest penpal.. the way u are engraved in my heart forever. u are just as lovely as taylor swift love songs, i hope u know that. im so happy to scream about anything and whatever with u. WE WILL GET MORE OF THOSE TAYLOR AND SKZ CRUMBS NEXT YEAR 🕯️🕯️🕯️

@yonglixx my sun sunny sunshine!!!! you might be one of the most supportive people on tumblr and i think we as a community need more people like u around. your light and positivity doesn’t go unnoticed. im glad to call u my friend 🌞

@ortali my cutie ortal… my favorite hyunie stan ever. me and u are the same and i miss u so dearly everyday whenever u aren’t here. tumblr isn’t the same without your presence. you bring me so much comfort and serenity and im so thankful that the world brought you to me 😣💘

@seungs: ik u hate sappy things but i will still shamelessly admit you are one of my favorite people ever here. im always here for your thoughts like i neEEED to hear them u know. you are so wise and collected and talented (ggoat = greatest gif maker of all time) that i aspire to be like u in so many ways like i just adore u so much hehe. i hope to be like u or whatever woodz said. i hope we get to meet once skz all around the world drags their booties to here mwah 💋

@seo-changbinnies: my trusted pc trader like trust all of my bin pcs will come to your way every comeback. it’s a tradition atp to stress over the international mail but i wouldn’t change a thing. u are a joy to be around and a blessing to this hellsite. so much happiness and joy radiating your tags that i couldn’t imagine tumblr without your presence. love u sososoo much 💖

@hyunsung: hello HELLOOOOO reach out to me im one of your biggest fans. i see a gifset of yours and i will be getting that thing to at least 1k notes like that’s the minimum they all deserve. you make art here and i think everyone should acknowledge it and appreciate it!!!!!!!! your name is mona just like one of the most famous art pieces of this whole world. i think it tells so much ‼️‼️

@chrisbangs my liiii my little moon… u are one of my first stayblr friends and i love u to the moon and back. whenever we catch up it’s like catching up with an old childhood bestie. nothing changed and the connection and love is always there. u mean so much to me than words could ever describe. i will forever be here rooting for you thousands miles away but our hearts will stay always connected 💘

@young-jae my forever only love sohvi. u have been here for me since the day one like im not even kidding… u know me through and through and i consider u my family at this point. i know if i fall to a dark place, i got your shoulder to lean on and that means the world to me. and same with you. you own my heart forever and always. i need to hug u so badly, i know i have the bestest hug in the world stored for u that i have been holding bag just to save it for u 💘 esc2024 here we come

@ye-xiu i feel like me and u are a married couple at this point like we have been through so much together and separately too like WOWIUUEEEEEE u are like a solid rock to me. a constant force that i can count on and i value it so much. i feel like i have told u this before but i love when u write.. u have a way with your words that always seem to touch places in my heart that i didn’t even know were there. hmm.. whatever does it ever drive u crazy how fast the night changes but it will never change me and u (that’s literally 1d lyrics but it just fits us)

@huiracha omg i adore u so much like 😭😭😭😭😭 IM SIMPLY A PEASANT WHILE PERCEIVING UR CONTENT. the way i have like actually kicked my feet few times in my bed when u rebloged something from me.. idk u are like my tumblr crush marie.. i just had to let u know here publicly!!!!!

@mybodyfails my sweetest oli with sososooooo much love to give…. u are sooooooo special. always rooting for me and hyping me up like half of my self confidence comes from your kindness. i hope you that passionate love you give out to the world will find you eventually. im glad to act as a cupid in your life too like that’s one of my greatest accomplishments and i will be mentioning it in my next job interview 😼

@hyumjim my funny guy Emily… u are like one of the funniest and craziest (in a good day at) people i have ever met. your energy irl also is just so joyful like i for real feel like i would never be depressed if i could spend at least few days a week with you (maybe that’s why u are a therapist… woah 🫨)

[hiperacid2]

A letter from one's aching heart.

╰┈➤ nanami kento x reader ･ﾟﾟ･｡ wc: ~600

╰┈➤ post shibuya 2018 incident, spoilers for the recent s2 ep (18), gender neutral!reader, angst, mostly hurt/small amounts of comfort, grief, unedited . ･ﾟﾟ･｡posted on ao3!! ･ﾟﾟ･｡ @bitchcraftinc ੈ♡˳

"I've lived and I've loved, I've drank bitter and cold coffee, and I've drunk it warm and sweet too. Lately the world lost its color, and with it the respite of love went away. Maybe it's still there, in the way I still cook, make coffee, load the laundry, buy takeout, and more; everything for two. I keep forgetting I'm going to wake up in an empty, cold bed, that my towels won't ever be warm again when I get out of the shower; sometimes I speak waiting for a response, but what answers me is the silence of a hollow house. I keep saying 'I'm home!' with a smile every once in a while, but then again, hollowness is all I get back. Sometimes I wonder if things could be different, if we could have had an eternity of warm embraces and late sunday mornings. Wondering is futile, you taught me that, what matters is the present, the now. There's days where I buy myself a flower bouquet and put it in your favorite vase, the one that I think is boring and dull, and other days I treat myself to a dinner date, always pouring something for you too; I hope you're enjoying that. Don't worry about me, I'm doing good, it seems I was prepared to live without you, it's so hard, but I'm doing good. Though I loathe the day your clothes stop having your smell, I keep spraying your cologne in your pillow, hoping that the smell brands itself in my brain. I've had no luck yet, maybe if I try harder I will achieve it. I hope you forgive me, but I made one of your ties my lucky charm that I tied to my bag, and I had to cut it in half, with the rest I made a bracelet which I use almost every day, hoping to have a piece of you with me always, at least physically. Maybe I will adopt that little kitten, the one you insisted I should stop feeding. His mama vanished, and he's doing relatively good by itself. But I have all this love inside me that is for you, overflowing and drowning me; it seems to like the charm made out of your tie because they always play with it when I put my bag down. Even when you're not around you still are a magnet of strays. …I am making this longer than I planned, maybe I will write you another letter next week, or when I feel ready. I hope you don't mind the ink a little smudged because I'm crying. With love, always and forever, until we meet in another life, Kento."

You carefully folded the letter, chest full of sobs and tears completely clouding your vision. Nestling the pen you just used against your chest carefully, it's weight heavy in your hands, is Nanami's favorite.

After calming down enough to move, you take the folded paper and move it next to the plain cream vase that now holds half wilted flowers, leaving it there, with the pen over it as a weight.

Grabbing your bag as you take a tissue from beside the door, you put on your shoes. The keys on the door jingle, a solitary keychain with now no pair dances. Closing the door, your next destination is the pet store, the kitten is going to need a lot of new things… absentmindedly you wonder what name would suit them as the sounds of the city engulf you.

╰┈➤ a/n: this has been rotting in my docs since SEPTEMBER !! i'm so happy to finally release it here into the wild, it's not much but im thinking about grief and him allllllll the time. thank u for reading!! ♡

reblogs are greatly appreciated

[calliesmemes]

SENTENCE STARTERS FOR SWIFTIES

ASSORTED SENTENCE STARTERS pulled from the lyrics of Taylor Swift’s discography. (This post includes Reputation, Speak Now, Lover, and Debut)

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

❛ I knew he was a killer the first time I saw him. ❜

❛ I see how this is going to go. ❜

❛ Touch me and you’ll never be alone. ❜

❛ Are you ready for it? ❜

❛ I’ve got some big enemies. ❜

❛ I’m one call away, whenever you need me. ❜

❛ I don’t wanna hurt you. ❜

❛ You gotta leave before you get left. ❜

❛ For you, I would fall from grace. ❜

❛ My reputation’s never been worse. ❜

❛ I don’t like your little games. ❜

❛ I rose up from the dead; I do it all the time. ❜

❛ All I think about is karma. ❜

❛ I’m yours to keep and yours to lose. ❜

❛ You make me jealous. ❜

❛ You ruined my life by not being mine. ❜

❛ You’re gorgeous. ❜

❛ It was the best of times, the worst of times. ❜

❛ I’m better off being alone. ❜

❛ You are the one I have been waiting for. ❜

❛ I don’t want you like a best friend. ❜

❛ Why’d you have to rain on my parade? ❜

❛ Did you think I wouldn’t hear all the things you said about me? ❜

❛ I brought a knife to a gun fight. ❜

❛ I’m doing better than I ever was. ❜

❛ You love yourself more than you could ever love me. ❜

❛ There’s no time for tears. ❜

❛ I’m just sitting here planning my revenge. ❜

❛ I don’t know what I want, so don’t ask me. ❜

❛ I’m just a girl trying to find a place in this world. ❜

❛ I’m feeling lucky today. ❜

❛ I start fights ‘cause I need to feel something. ❜

❛ Every smile you fake is so condescending. ❜

❛ I’ve got nowhere else to go. ❜

❛ No one notices until it’s too late. ❜

❛ It’s hard to make conversation when you’re taking my breath away. ❜

❛ You shouldn’t be begging for forgiveness at my feet. ❜

❛ Was it worth it? ❜

❛ I dare you to kiss me. ❜

❛ Baby, is something wrong? ❜

❛ I don’t wanna live without you. ❜

❛ I’m only me when I’m with you. ❜

❛ You are everything to me. ❜

❛ You are the best thing that’s ever been mine. ❜

❛ I’m captivated by you. ❜

❛ I’m so glad you’ve made time to see me. ❜

❛ How’s life? Tell me, how’s your family? ❜

❛ I’m sorry for that night. ❜

❛ You’re not the kind of boy who should be marrying the wrong girl. ❜

❛ You need to hear me out. ❜

❛ Your time is running out. ❜

❛ My mother accused me of losing my mind. ❜

You made a rebel out of a careless man’s careful daughter. ❜

❛ Why you gotta be so mean? ❜

❛ You have pointed out my flaws again, as if I don’t already see them. ❜

❛ I’ll never impress you. ❜

❛ I just wanna feel okay again. ❜

❛ The story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now. ❜

❛ Why are we pretending this is nothing? ❜

❛ Don’t you ever grow up, just stay this little. ❜

❛ Everything I have is someday gonna be gone. ❜

❛ Have we met? ❜

❛ It was enchanting to meet you. ❜

❛ Now go stand in the corner and think about what you did. ❜

❛ I underestimated just who I was dealing with. ❜

❛ There is nothing that I do better than revenge. ❜

❛ Sophistication isn’t what you wear or who you know. ❜

❛ Minds change like the weather. ❜

❛ I can’t trust anything now. ❜

❛ I won’t lose you again. ❜

❛ Something’s gone terribly wrong. ❜

❛ It was the end of a decade, but the start of an age. ❜

❛ One day, we will be remembered. ❜

❛ People look at me like I’m a monster. ❜

❛ Promise me that you’ll stand by me forever. ❜

❛ I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you. ❜

❛ People throw rocks at things that shine. ❜

❛ My heart is yours. ❜

❛ You will never learn your lesson. ❜

❛ Don’t forget about me. ❜

❛ Just breathe, just relax, it’ll be okay. ❜

❛ This could break my heart or bring it back to life. ❜

❛ I’ve been watching you for ages. ❜

❛ Once, I had an empire in a golden age. ❜

❛ I used to be great. ❜

❛ I will just let you down. ❜

❛ Power went to my head. ❜

❛ You taught me some hard lessons. ❜

❛ I'm always waiting for you. ❜

❛ This is our place, we make the rules. ❜

❛ There’s a mysterious way about you. ❜

❛ I'd be a fearless leader. ❜

❛ If I was a man, then I’d be the man. ❜

❛ I’m ready for combat. ❜

❛ Can you see right through me? ❜

❛ All of my enemies started out friends. ❜

❛ I am an architect. ❜

❛ You know I adore you. ❜

❛ American glory faded before me. ❜

❛ Now I’m feeling hopeless. ❜

❛ You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. ❜

❛ My team is losing. ❜

❛ You are the only one who seems to care. ❜

❛ I’m feeling helpless. ❜

❛ The storm is coming. ❜

❛ I don’t really wanna fight. ❜

❛ I’d marry you with paper rings. ❜

❛ Darling, you’re the one I want. ❜

❛ I hope I never lose you. ❜

❛ I thought you were leading me on. ❜

❛ I can’t pretend that it’s okay when it’s not. ❜

❛ I see you everywhere. ❜

❛ I love my hometown. ❜

❛ All the rumors are true. ❜

❛ Soon, you’ll get better. ❜

[0shewrites0]

theory | Why Lucas brought Blake back

I was discussing this with a mutual Lucas stan a few days ago and I can't stop thinking about it because it just makes SO MUCH sense.

So, I'm just going to put it out there. Feel free to disagree with me or respond to it with your own interpretation, I'm so curious what everyone thinks. Especially Lucas fans...

@mercedesdecorazon ‘s fic reminded me that I wanted to post this so here you go 🤌🏽

More under the cut but prepare for a loooong post 👀

Day 7: Remember when the girls have to decide who is most vs least likely to leave with a girlfriend? We all know if you want to keep Lucas, you have to tell them you want to keep Henrik and vice versa.

Day 5: Remember when you return from your dates and the girls ask you if you like the new guys (Lucas & Henrik), you can tell them, "No, neither of them"? Let's say you go with that. Later, your LI tells you that he overheard Marisol say that "you fancy both of them", even though you said the exact opposite! This is going to get important in a second, bear with me 😌

Day 8: Lucas wants to have a chat on the roof terrace and says the following, "I know you wish it was Henrik who stayed instead of me".

Remember? Yes? Okay, well, have you never thought - How??? Where does he get that impression? Why does he think that? And how does he "know" that? That's a bit of a strong word, isn't it?

And then the thought occurred to me -

What if someone (probably Marisol, but we don't know that) told him that you told the girls the night before that you wanted to keep Henrik? (I mean, you had to because reversed psychology, but let's forget that for a moment)

And if someone told him that, of course he's going to think, wait, she doesn't even like me. It makes sense that Marisol is that person because she desperately wants that spark, and so far it hasn't happened. And Rocco got dumped. So Lucas is really the only option for her at this point.

Day 9: When you pick Lucas for your date, he reacts very confused and really surprised, which - again - makes no sense unless he thinks MC doesn't really like him. At least not as much as she likes/d Henrik. Because boy, my MC has been flirting with Lucas the whole time! And Marisol is pissed that MC chooses Lucas - "Hey! That's who I was going to choose!"

Day 10/ OP NOPE/ Gary and Lucas in the kitchen with the smoothie machine: Lucas says that maybe “he should and check on Hope".

Right? While your MC is standing right in front of him. That always bothered me and I didn't understand what his damn problem was, but now it makes sense:

He thinks MC chose Henrik over him, and now that Henrik is gone, he doesn't want to feel like a second option. So he feels he has to keep his options open - that's why he says that about Hope (who we know he fancies!)

Maybe - and I'm going out on a limb here - he even says it as a subtle dig at MC, like, "You don't like me? Well, I’ve got other options. Doesn’t mean I have to stay with you forever!"

Disaster Recoupling: if MC picked him on Day 9, he will "return the favour", as he puts it. He likes MC (probably more than he'd like to admit), but he's still so insecure. And instead of talking to her about it, he keeps it to himself, swallows it down and lets it eat him up inside.

Casa Amor: I guess Lucas wanted to stay loyal and didn't necessarily enjoy the kiss he shared with Blake in that challenge. (I agree with you here, @mercedesdecorazon ) Jakub just said it looked like he enjoyed it. But after seeing the video of the girls, insecurity about MC's true feelings caught up with him again and he thought (which he makes clear after the stick & switch recoupling when you talk to him on the roof terrace) that MC would switch "for sure". Which she obviously didn't.

Stick & Switch Recoupling: MC comes back alone while Lucas brings Blake back. I suspect that the moment he saw MC sitting alone, he thought, I screwed up so badly. She'll never forgive me for this and now I've lost everything.

And that's the exact moment he realises that not only does he really like MC (that he's actually falling in love with her - I mean, he's picked a girl so similar to MC, that says it all), but that MC likes him too. She came back single, she stuck with him.

Day 18: When you decide to save him from being dumped, he walks over to you without even giving Blake a glance. Because it's you he wants. Who he's always wanted. And now that he's realised you want him just as much, he's all in. 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Day 24: In that way, it also makes sense that he was so jealous and insecure again when Henrik showed up at the Villa again. He needed so much reassurance, although we could never claim that after how he did us so dirty with both Blake and then Elisa, but it's just the old fear of losing her to his buddy. The fear that's still in the back of Lucas' head telling him that MC likes Henrik more than him, which she clearly doesn't and never has.

But that idiot never opened his mouth, goddamn it! 😭😭

I don’t know about you but knowing this makes it so much easier to forgive him. He’s just insecure and wants to be prioritized. He wants to be loved by MC. 🥺

[niall-ate-mynamee]

note: well…here’s a little one shot for Nialler’s birthday (let’s pretend i didn’t post this 3 days after, yeah? ;))

hope you enjoy! <3

i haven’t proof read this, so any mistakes, please let me know!

It was Niall’s 30th birthday. He was alone. Sure, he had plenty of friends he could’ve invited over and drank until he passed out, but he wanted to be alone. He was missing his boys today. His boys.

Louis, the idiot, the prankster, his partner in crime. Oh, how he missed the laughs they had on and off camera. Louis was the one who could make him laugh in the midst of a breakdown.

Liam, “daddy direction” as everyone called him. His best friend. The man who had a heart of gold, but had demons he had been fighting and overcame. Liam would hold him tight when things got too much.

Harry, his younger-older brother. The man who Niall knew would always be loved by millions around the world and could be on tour every single day for the rest of his life and still have sold out shows. The man who would stay up all night when Niall couldn’t sleep.

Even Zayn, his brother from another mother. The man who protected Niall, no matter the circumstance or consequences. Who showed his love every single day. He would sit silently when Niall would rant and rave about the difficulties he experienced.

Niall missed them. Beyond anything. He knew they were all living their best lives and he was forever proud of everything they achieved. He’d follow their journeys. Their music was indescribable. He had all their albums, listened to them every single day. He’d watch back old interviews and One Direction videos just to feel closer to them.

But, all he ever wanted, was to see them again, hang out with them again, have a massive party, just the five of them. Was that too much to ask?

He was turning 30 now, and the only gift he wanted was them. Don’t get him wrong, the gifts, cards, texts and countless messages he’s received already from friends, family and fans are so amazing and he feels so cared about…but, there’s only four messages he’s yet to receive and if his heart is cracking every hour that passes with nothing, well, nobody has to know.

It’s nearing 5pm, the time his friends had asked him to be ready for because they have some surprise planned for him before they take him out for the night. Niall found it quite pathetic really, how a now-30 year old man was alone in his home moping about the past, but you’ll have to forgive Niall, because he’s never exactly been “normal”. He was always the odd one out.

When he was changed and ready, about to open up a beer to celebrate on his own before he would spend the rest of his day surrounded by people, there was a knock on the door. He bit back a groan, quickly taking a gulp from the bottle, while walking towards the door.

There was a second knock, and Niall rolled his eyes. Sometimes, his friends were so impatient. They knew he was in, and knew he was expecting them, so there was no need to knock more than once, dammit!

“I’ve told you before, if you keep knocking, I won’t-“ He froze as he opened the door, nearly dropping his beer, thinking he was going crazy, because there, standing right on his doorstep, grinning cheekily and arms full of gifts, and alcohol, were the only four people he wanted to see.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NIALLER!” They cheered, holding up various gifts wrapped neatly, cards with his name on, Louis of course had enough beer for them all to spend the entire next 12 hours drinking, and every single one of them had eyes sparkling with joy and love.

“Wh-what?” Is all he could choke out.

It was Liam who explained, “You didn’t think we’d ever forget your birthday, did’ya, Ni? Your mum had said you were celebrating alone this year, and we couldn’t have that, could we, boys?” Liam threw a wink to Niall as the boys nodded, “Thought we’d drop by and make sure you had some company. After all, you only turn 30 once!”

Niall was shocked. He couldn’t believe his boys were really here and standing just merely inches away from him. He could feel the tears gathering in his eyes and he thanked the gods his house was protected from any public passer-by’s.

“We love you, Neil, and we miss you…can we have the honour of celebrating your birthday with you?” It was Louis this time, and Niall choked on a sob before nodding frantically and launching himself on them and bringing them all into a group hug.

He could hear their laughter as their arms wrapped around him and held up tight. His nose was hit with all their scents and he breathed them in, making sure it was real and he hadn’t just gotten so drunk that he was hallucinating.

“You idiots…I miss and love you so much,” He whispered, not letting go. He felt a pair of arms under his thighs and he jumped slightly, wrapping his legs around whoever’s waist and feeling them carry him back into his house.

By the smell alone, he could tell it was Liam he was clinging onto, and he started to blush. It’s been over 8 years since he last was carried around by any of the boys like this, but he didn’t care in that moment, because he had his boys again and he’d be damned if he was letting them go now.

When they made it to the lounge, he lifted his head from where it was buried in Liam’s neck, and looked around. Louis was putting all the beers on the table (the one Niall had already was amongst the bunch and for a moment, he wondered how it got there because he didn’t remember putting it down or even letting go), Harry was placing all the gifts they had brought in a neat pile in the corner of the room, Zayn was putting multiple games (board and video), DVDs and CDs he had with him in separate piles on the other table and Liam still had a hold of Niall.

“What did ya wanna do first, Nialler? We’ve got films, music, games? Or we can give you your presents? The choice is all yours!” He heard Zayn ask, and Niall finally let go of Liam to look around at them all. He grinned and wiped at his eyes, making sure to take it all in and laughed, truly laughed, head thrown back and eyes sparkling with so much love and joy.

“You lads better have got me the most expensive gifts you could find, after all, I’m your favourite Irishman ever!” He joked, and everyone burst into laughter.

“Nah, I prefer Bobby Horan!” Harry smirked, earning himself a playful glare before being attacked by Niall and the two “babies” of their group ended up on the ground, and the laughter was even louder.

Five boys who grew into men back together. Their hearts beating as one, once again. Niall wouldn’t change anything for the world, because even though they’ve moved on from their past, and are all doing their own things, they’re family. No matter what life throws at them, they’ve always got four brothers ready to catch them.

Niall spent his 30th birthday with the people who meant more to him than he could ever describe. Niall would never celebrate another birthday alone ever again. He had his boys there for him, and he’d forever be grateful.

Maybe one day in the future, they’d make music together again, maybe they won’t, but either way, Niall had four brothers who he’ll forever love and cherish.

note: Happy birthday, Nialler <3

sorry it took me slightly longer to post, writers block has hit me hard lately!

i hope you guys enjoyed this, anyways! it’s slightly different to what/how i usually write, so let me know what you think! :)

i’ll be working on some prompts over the next few weeks, so there’ll be more coming very soon!

[ctrsara]

Things I've Been Reading

Some of these are newer, some are older and I just barely read them. This is not EVERYTHING I've been reading and liking, obviously, but just a quick share!

(Also, if you know these authors are on Tumblr, but they're not tagged, please let me know, or let them know or something, so I can be friends with them and tag them!) (RECS below cut)

Iron Dad: Coming Home by JAWorley:

This is one I didn't try a few times because I didn't think I was interested in Peter hanging out with Toomes. However, I'm so glad I finally tried it, because it was fantastic, and a really different take on the whole Homecoming era. Published:2023-01-02Completed:2023-02-26Words:114889

Shake My Hand (And I'll Forgive You): by Frogdottir: @frogdottirwrites

Post NWH, Peter has been doing work for the Bugle, trying to stay afloat, and suddenly discovers Tony is alive. However, it seems like even before everyone had forgotten him, everyone close to Tony had been aware of it except him. He is hurt and angry and freaks out just a little bit. Incomplete, but 13 chapters so far, and so good! Published:2022-12-20Updated:2023-03-03Words:40572

Atlas Held by Grumperella: @grumperella

After an explosion brings down a building on top of them, Peter is the only thing between Tony, Natasha and certain death. Trapped under rubble together, well... nothing builds bonds like shared trauma. This one was super angsty, but so, so, good! Published:2023-01-07Completed:2023-01-08Words:8401

Distracted By a Dime by happyaspie: @yes-i-am-happyaspie

This is an older story, but I just barely read it, and she's been adding to the series lately. :) Peter Parker thinks he has everything figured out. Where he can eat, sleep and make a little bit of money. What he needs to do in order to continue attending Midtown and being Spider-Man. The Stark-Rogers family throws a wrench in his plans.

Tis the Damn Season (for a Christmas Miracle) by peacockgirl

Yes, peacockgirl really did write an AU of her own story (Long Story Short (It Was a Bad Time) Or AIs Don't Forget,) which is one of my favorites, and it's amazing, too. Highly recommend! Morgan just wants her big brother to come home for Christmas. Tony just wants to figure out why being around his daughter is sending him into a tailspin. And Peter just wants to survive his first Christmas alone without freezing to death in a graveyard. Luckily Morgan Stark is very, very stubborn. And immune to Strange's spell. Published:2023-01-31Completed:2023-02-27Words:23468

Oxygen and Gravity by for_the_night: @imyoursavinggrace (also, btw, people who have different tumblr names and ao3 names make me think I'm going senile. I have the hardest time remembering who is who sometimes!😂 )

A really cool Irondad soulmates AU (Sentinels and Guides) that I just re-read and loved again. It's not complete, but close. n a world where Senintels and Guides are dying out, Guide Tony Stark was very happy just living life without the responsibility of some Sentinel, but when one touch awakens a soul bond with a scrawny vigilante from Queens, Tony’s life changes forever. Published:2021-11-15Updated:2022-06-24Words:28459

A Big Security Issue by FotiBrit: @fotibrit

Short, cute, and amazing! When Peter lost his Stark Industries Staff ID, Tony handed the kid his own. That was never an issue, until Peter had to check in at the front desk. Published:2023-02-01Words:1828

Make it a Good One! by zippe

This one was kind of a unique fix-it/time travel that I found looking through the @irondad-creator-awards categories, so here's another plug for those! Tony and his mess of a fairy god spider who can’t seem to keep himself moving correctly along the timeline. Published:2022-05-08Completed:2022-07-08Words:31435

Where the Love Is by SpaceCowboysFromMars: @spacecowboysfrommars

This one was super different and interesting, and I kinda wish it could have continued. I've never seen the movie, so it was a new story for me. The Way Way Back AU where Peter is reluctantly dragged by May and her new asshole boyfriend, Quentin, to spend the summer in Cape Cod. Summer gets a whole lot more interesting when Peter makes friends with the eccentric manager of Water Wizz, who seems to take a liking to Peter in all his teenage-awkwardness glory. Published:2023-01-12Words:12948

In a Different Light by kingdomfaraway: @asyouleft

An amazing short one! Peter is taken, and Tony finally uses the phone Steve sent him. He needs help, even if it means making night with his former friends and teammates.

And a bonus:

home (is where my heart found exactly where I'm supposed to be) by ironfidus @ironfidus

Another one I found looking through the Irondad Creator Awards categories. So, so sweet and hit all the irondad feels I wanted on that particular day! Six thousand miles away from the city that never sleeps, across continents and on the other side of the North Pacific Ocean, Tony relearns the meaning of home—as redefined in his eyes by a stubborn teenager with a penchant for recklessness.

[blonde-and-cat-suc]

27. it’s the least you could do

rating: m

wc: 1k

cw/tw: manipulation, mild dehumanization * 

desc: Catra is having a hard time settling into life in Bright Moon after the war. It doesn’t help that Adora does not want to stay in with her. 

(Post-Canon)

///

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Adora was once doe-eyed and scrappy, something like a loyal puppy, following wherever the highest powers would go... Eventually, that power, the glamour, the promise of victory—that was what had pulled Adora into the Rebellion.

Sometimes, Adora was redeemable. She was only doing what she thought was best at the time. She was only sucked into the illusion of becoming a true hero. There was no happy ending when Prime was defeated. Not really. When all was said and done and the weeks have passed, Etheria's moons are still rotating, the villages that have been destroyed are still destroyed, the scars where the Chipped had been inflicted are still soft and pink, unable to forget the damage for good.

Catra spent a lot of the new free time doing nothing more but relaxing in the dip of their bedroom's window sills, one of her legs and the tip of her tail hung on the side of the outer wall. Spring had come to Bright Moon all at once, the air thick and heady with fresh dew, tangy-sweet flora pouring onto Catra's face, on the tips of her whiskers... It was a really good day to stay in and not have to worry about getting ticks buried in her fur. Maybe sleep on the floor and try not to think about anything else but the heat simmering through the window. Catra spent so many days just like this until they all blended in together. Long, dull, meaningless days in Bright Moon.

Adora didn't like staying in all day like that, though. She was always moving. Too jumpy, her heart beat rabbiting when Catra pressed her ear against her ribs, trying to forget her own bad dreams in favor of Adora's reality.... They've always been like that. They were always bound to be together, feeding off of each other. Sometimes Catra was flustered at that thought. Sometimes she was pissed. She was not sure what to think of that. Not ready to unpack it.

They fought each other for years. She hated Adora. Sometimes it was like her body forgot that Adora was an ally now, and it would shudder and tighten and go madly hot with everything she swallowed away for Adora during the war. Before the war, even. 

That was miserable.

And this was... confusing.

The war was won, but Catra's head wasn't even clear enough to actually enjoy it.

"So... You're leaving?" she finally asked Adora, who stood akimbo at the door, pointedly.

"Just for a few hours."

Catra fought to keep the venom out of her tone. "And...you're going to hang out with Glimmer again, right?"

"Catra, why do you always—"

"It's okay if you are. Just go. I'm just going to stay here all day, and not cause any trouble, okay? ...That's what you want, isn't it?"

"Why don't you just come with us?" Adora was slightly flushed, never one to make Catra angry and leave her like that. Yeah. Adora was sweet. She even gave Catra those I'm really trying right now eyes, and Catra could almost believe her. "You guys can't have this fight forever. Honestly, you two just have different opinions, it's not enough to end an entire friendship—"

"Yes, it is", she snapped. "You don't get to tell me who to be friends with, Adora!"

"No, that's not what I mean! I just—"

"You just want everyone to get along because it'll make you comfortable! And that's always it, isn't it!? 'What's going to make this comfortable for me? What do I want Catra to do to make her better to meet my standards!?' God, Adora, you—you don't ever actually listen to me when I talk, do you?"

Adora was wide-eyed, her teeth working down on her bottom lip, trying not to speak too soon. That was so annoying, when Adora would hold out on Catra like this, still. She had always been the most frustrating person to argue with, because she had always been the person that Catra would forgive, eventually. If anything, the end of the war and the start of their romantic relationship together was as good a sign as any that Catra and Adora really couldn't be without each other. They really were just two halves of a whole, and maybe that's why Catra had hope that Adora would come around eventually. She would be that good, loyal puppy that followed orders again, like she used to. Catra had to figure out how to get that from Adora, like she once had. Then, she would really sink her claws in. Never let this relationship go, ever again.

Finally, it seemed that Adora had collected her bearings and the gears behind her eyes started working. But then, she only uttered, "Look. I'm sorry. I didn't know that you feel that I don't listen to you."

"You don't listen to me."

"I'll stay with you a little longer", Adora said hurriedly. "If that's what you want."

Catra rolled her eyes, "What do you think?"

That was all she had to do and say for Adora to come crawling back, shrugging off her jacket, the bright blue of her eyes looking at Catra for some other kind of approval. She patted the side of her leg, tail flickering wildly at her hip. Here, here girl... come back over here.

Adora was almost too easy, now. The war being over made her soft, so quickly. She wouldn't even kick off her boots before she met Catra at the window, frowning, shoulders squared, attention placed here and only here. Adora was no longer young, and no longer blind to the worlds around her—but she was ever loyal and obedient, still. 

For a moment, it was almost like they were kids again... Catra looking down at the only person she had ever loved, and Adora looking up right at her. For a moment, it was almost like they were back on opposite sides of a war again, and Catra wanted to kick Adora's face in again, just to get her to stop looking like that. So wide and blue and trusting. Adora was not that totally innocent, loyal girl that she used to be, all of those years ago, in the Horde, in the war. Now she was only a stark reminder of the worse parts of Catra's life... and sometimes the best.

"Good", was all Catra could bring herself to say, swallowing back her love for Adora. Her rage. "Staying with me... Finally. Thank you, Adora. Thank you."

///