#it's almost certainly okay for you as an individual

[ivyblossom]

Okay, but...this is a little fishy.

chatGPT can't remember 300K words. It has a memory, but it's for individual details that it learns over time, not 300K words of a story.

I'm not endorsing this or saying it's fine, I'm just addressing misinformation. I'm professionally required to understand chatGPT, so I have kicked its tires and monitor its progress to see what it can and can't do. It might be trying to write new chapters of your fic, but it absolutely doesn't save a copy of your fic.

If someone wanted to do this, they'd have to keep a text file of your fic and re-upload almost constantly. But 300K is way too many words for it to handle, and it certainly wouldn't produce anything close to what you'd write, even with less text to parse.

If someone asked chatGPT to produce a new chapter, it would blithely hallucinate new characters and plot points. It would mistake the dog for the protagonist and tell you about it's "canonical" tragic backstory. It would swap your characters' names and accuse some of them of being aliens or water buffalos. Even if it could accurately keep 300K words of content in its memory, it would forget them within minutes.

It would try to write a good chapter. I'm sure people are asking it to, but dear god chatGPT is awful at writing fiction. Why would anyone want to read a terrible chapter of something they love? There's no accounting for taste, I guess.

I get why you're mad and creeped out, but you don't need to fear chatGPT keeping copies of your fics, at least. It doesn't have that kind of capacity. The reader has your fic stored locally.

Be mindful and cautious, with AI, absolutely. But misinformation isn't ever a friend.

This is the worst timeline. (x)

[last-flight-of-fancy]

hey, hey, quick internet fandom ettiquete lesson; X has two hands jokes only vibe if you are talking to someone who is ALSO already talking about how X has two hands. Okay? Okay. It is in fact very rude to go onto other people’s posts where only one set of hands is involved to evangalise about two hands. When seeing ship art/fic of only half your ot3, it is proper ettiquete to simply enjoy the art/fic as it is, and if so inspired create/commission/seek out the ot3 content of your choice. This has been your quick internet fandom lesson, thank you for your time.

[fabiansociety]

da2 isn't the best dragon age game *because* it's openly a tragedy, but being a tragedy forces a level of narrative coherence that the other games in the series don't have, and *that's* what makes it a better game.

okay, so. dragon age 2 runs on nested foreshadowing and a limited set of themes that almost every character and plot beat fall into: love is not enough, wealth is not enough, power is not enough, good intent is not enough. the problems you run into are structural, rather than individual, and your ability to resolve them as one person is strictly limited. the arishok is a central figure for this, because he prefigures every other tragedy and makes the game's thesis statement as clear as possible. he doesn't want to be in kirkwall, but he is compelled to remain until he gets back what was stolen. he doesn't want to lead a coup attempt, but he is compelled by qunari codes of justice to act. he does not want to die and fail his duty, but but he is compelled to by the other two impossible demands. every tragedy in kirkwall is the result of too many people with wildly different definitions of justice crammed into one place specifically designed to maximize human misery and suffering, and so you get a wonderfully nested narrative onion where each quest reinforces that idea, where there are no good options, just positions you can take — even the affinity system plays into that, where constantly gassing up your friends or constantly pushing them to change are equally correct ways to go, but ones that won't ultimately make a huge difference in their lives or characters, because no matter how much they like you, they're not under your control.

this coherence is even justified by the framing device. of *course* the moral of the game is "insisting on a dogmatic, narrow idea of justice destroys individuals and societies," it's a yarn being spun by varric the con artist to a chantry cop!

neither origins or inquisition play with that sort of narrative complexity. origins is a jaundiced hero's quest, certainly, but it's still basically a hero's quest; inquisition has a number of characters who question what you're doing and why, but the multitude of voices pulls the game in too many potential directions. DA2 was so constrained in its production that it pulled on decidedly ancient theatrical traditions, and it worked so, so well

[baeshijima]

being married to duke!blade is a feat inconceivable to many.

overseeing the northern region where monster outbreaks are high and temperatures are low, he is feared by many for not only his undeniable battle prowess, but also his cold and dismissive demeanour. from all the stories and rumours passed down from those who battled alongside the duke, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say his mere presence alone is sufficient enough to take on an entire army.

but despite his infamous personality, the young duke had made rounds within high society when he first showed his face. he was handsome, having that rugged appearance expected of a blood-soaked warrior residing on the battlefied, yet beautiful with a haunting allure — those crimson-marigold eyes of his can simultaneously bewitch an unassuming victim and bring the most prideful of monarchs down to their knees.

and, as expected of someone with such descriptors, many of the nobility found themselves drawn to him in spite of the rumours which clung to his very being. noble ladies wished to be the first he ever danced with, while many families seeked to gain even a morsel of his power through arranged marriages. relentless as they were, none succeeded in swaying the stone-cold duke.

and stone-cold he was upon your first meeting, albeit in… less than fortunate circumstances.

having meandered around the foresty northern borders not too far from where your family estate is, you certainly were not expecting to stumble across a rotting corpse smack-dab in the middle of your path! okay, well, rotting may not be the most suitable term, but the slumped body, battered and bruised and bloodied, you accidentally kicked was very much a corpse.

you had contemplated leaving the body there but, upon seeing a bloodied insignia of an all-too familiar ducal household, you decided you wanted to live a little longer. of course, this led to you lugging a slumped, muscle-packed warrior of a man all the way to where your estate was, heaving and huffing with your body trembling under the weight.

(to say you were just about ready to collapse when the family knights spotted your emerging figure was no understatement!)

whisked away into a guest room near your own, your parents called for the family doctor immediately. when the blood was cleaned and his wounds were wrapped, the sight of his injuries mending themselves was sure to be a sight you would never be able to rid your mind of. it was a strange but intriguing phenomenon to see his skin stitched anew, that horrid sight of him collapsed in the forestry almost like that of a dream.

your father immediately sent word to the duke’s estate to notify them of the circumstances. in the meanwhile, the man of the hour was unconscious for three days. seeing as how you were the one to find him, you took it upon yourself to help look after his well-being. changing his bandages, regularly wiping the accumulating sweat with a freshly damp cloth, ensuring the room is well-ventilated — you did the lot!

(sometimes you would stare at his resting face, wondering just how much more handsome he would be with his eyes open; only to retract that sentiment when recalling the tales about how his eyes could burn a man alive. exaggerated or not, he is still a dangerous individual you would rather not further entangle yourself with.)

with his people having retrieved their master from your care, promises of hefty compensation for taking care of their lord ringing in your ears, you were ready to sweep the whole ordeal under the rug and never get yourself involved with a man like him again! after all, he is the fearful duke responsible for your region, while you’re just another noble within his domain.

so, naturally, when you first heard of your soon-to-be marriage, you thought your parents did something to offend him and were sending you as a sacrifice meant to appease his wrath.

because, well, why else would the very same duke infamous for having zero interest in romantic and political marriages be sending a letter for your hand in marriage of his own accord? being unconscious the entirety of the time made him unable to see you, let alone know your family, so of course that meant his staff had filled him in on what happened. but why would he initiate this proposal without even knowing who you are first???

(did you get a say in this? no. would you have refused? yes. did your parents care about you and your well-being? aside from their apologetic gazes at your slack-jawed reaction and somewhat rational reasoning of “his grace may have an infamous reputation, but he is not a cruel ruler nor man,” you would like to deny the parental affection they have given you thus far in favour of objecting the claim.)

well, no matter. there was little time to prepare for his arrival to your estate, as the letter stated he would be arriving to escort you himself.

after much fuss over your clothing and luggage, the day arrived; you were going to see him again, except this time, he would see you as well.

a regal carriage entered the estate’s gates. the door swung open. a black gloved hand was the first to appear, followed by a ducked head of long navy hair, a familiar figure donning a freshly pressed suit and black overcoat, and finally — finally — a pair of burning crimson-marigold met your own gaze.

you weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline of your fight or flight response kicking in or the butterflies which ruptured within you that caused your heart rate to increase, but you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from him.

he stopped in front of you, the features you once saw up close felt more complete than ever with the addition of his eyes open.

and thus, with your palm settled atop his outstretched gloved one, your fate was sealed.

(man. was this the compensation the staff were saying to you as they left…?)

that was two years ago.

savage. cold-blooded. inhumane. brute. monster. these were some of the ways in which duke blade was described. the man who currently sits on the edge of the bed watching you dress his wounds, however, is much different than the public opinion.

ever since exchanging vows at the altar and slipping sacred rings of matrimony onto each other’s fingers, you have come to know many sides of blade you never thought possible.

and while he rarely spoke in the beginning, his actions spoke louder than any voice could ever hope to measure up to. and, eventually, he became more vocal in regards to his feelings for you, just as you have with yours upon witnessing firsthand his true character.

from his battle-haggard, near manic state when on the verge of succumbing to the curse before falling into your healing embrace, to his tender fleeting touches and ever-adoring affection repressed within his gaze when in the presence of others, you have seen it all.

the process of getting to know and understand the intricacies of his life is almost like unravelling layers upon layers of thin bandage wrapped tightly around a gaping wound, hoping to block out the vulnerabilities which could be exposed. it was rocky at first, you being in an unfamiliar environment while he had his own inner battles to deal with first and foremost, but time carved its path for the two of you to partake in talks lasting late into the night, a subtle fondness growing more pronounced as familiarity grew alongside it.

and, of course, the time he returned from a subjugation battle-worn and mind having been overriden with mania. it was the first you’d seen him in such a loss of control. knights were rushing to subdue him while the servants desperately tried to usher your bewildered form some place safe, as though this had been a common occurrence well before you came into the picture. that hadn’t gone as planned, however, as the moment blade’s heaving figure locked eyes with you, a state of chaos ensued the moment he broke through the wall of knights with ease and appeared in front of you. no time was wasted when he lunged, a panic chorus of cries following suit as you remained rooted in place.

while you would never forget the blown-out, near-animalistic look in his eyes as he drew closer at an impossible speed, the gentle — almost reverent — manner in which he embraced you then, rigid body instantly relaxing against you, would forever be the turning point of your relationship, as well as a long-cherished memory of his first true feelings.

a dull sensation poking the space between your brows snaps you out of your thoughts. “stop frowning. i’ll be fine like always.”

your hands pause in their ministrations, hovering over his bare torso where you finished tying up a bandage. a blink and a sigh, another swab of disinfectant is in your hands working at the wound on his bicep.

“but that doesn’t mean i like seeing you return to me wounded,” you mutter bitterly, blatantly ignoring his stare. “i know you can take care of yourself, what with that regenerative ability of yours, but i still worry over you. you can still feel the pain, after all, and not to mention that curse—”

a swift tug forward abruptly cuts you off, your words fizzling on the tip of your tongue as a familiar warmth encases you in its entirety. instinctively, your hands grip onto his shoulders, the coarse material of bandages not unfamiliar to your touch, while blade’s hands are splayed across the expanse of your back as he holds you against his seated form.

his nose nudges along the slope of your neck, the shape of your jaw, the contours of your face, a trail of soft kisses leaving searing imprints in its wake.

a deep breath, a ticklish sensation, a thrumming heartbeat.

and when he rests his forehead against your own, crimson-marigold eyes dyed with devotion and seeping ardour, you think the world will be okay.

(even if it were to burst into flames and be reduced to ash, if it means you would be by this man’s side for a little longer, you think it will be okay.)

[glamourscat]

Literally love your Tim Drake works 🙏 so good to see him get some hype!!

Can I please request Tim Drake with Gn!reader teasing him about essentially being his sugar baby? Not using him obvi, but like as a broke college student myself, I know he would simply not be able to witness our conditions without stepping in. Idk if he's ever canonically gone to a dorm, but I think explaining the concept of having to wear a "shower shoe" to avoid communal shower fungus would be enough for him to just buy you an apartment for the next 4 years 😭 or looking in the fridge only to see the takeout box, bread, and ketchup combo cause groceries are toooo expensive 😭 The "damn bitch you live like this" meme personified

Sorry this became off-topic ramble-ly lol I just think it's funny how stressed he would be by his partner's early 20's ✨ broke era✨

a/n: when I tell I saw the request and immediately my fingers started writing😭 loved this! thank you so much, I hope it’s what you were looking for <3

cw: slightly suggestive towards the end

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“For the love of—babe?” Tim’s voice rang through your college dorm room.

You looked up from the bed where you were working on some assignments, meeting his eyes as he crouched near the mini-fridge under your desk.

“Yeah, hun?” you said, eyebrows furrowing.

“What in the actual hell is this?” he exclaimed, holding up a few boxes of Chinese takeout and random half-open sauce packets—most definitely “borrowed” from fast food joints and restaurants alike. His face was a mix of shock and genuine concern for you.

“Ah, yeah. That was my dinner yesterday, my lunch the day before yesterday, and my breakfast… yep,” you said casually, shrugging as you went back to your work.

After all, it’s not like you’re the only one in this situation. Sure, you would have preferred to eat a proper meal, but broke students have to survive somehow, right?

“Babe… you are seriously surviving off of scraps? This can barely keep you fed, not to mention the—” he stopped as he looked over at your desk. “Now what in the hell is this?” His voice was slightly high-pitched as he stared at the shower shoes on your desk that you had forgotten to put away before he came by.

“Those? You’ve really never seen shower shoes?” you said with a hint of an amused smile. “Those are shower shoes, Tim. I use them in the communal showers since we don’t have individual ones. To avoid getting shower fungus or athlete’s foot, ya know? Stuff like that.” Your words were so calm, so… like you were used to it.

Tim stared at you with his eyes almost bulging out of his skull, genuinely trying to make his last remaining brain cells understand how this way of living was even possible on college grounds. But more importantly, how the hell were you supposed to live like this for the next four years?

“Where are you going?” you asked, confused, seeing him rush to put his jacket on.

“Put your jacket on. We are going to look at apartments right now. I think I caught something just by thinking of you living here for the next four years, malnourished and worst of all, using communal showers. What if something happened to you? Yeah, fuck that, c’mon” he said frantically, almost dragging you out of your dorm by the hand as you tried not to laugh.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting—”

“No,” he cut you off. His expression was almost comical in how genuinely frantic he was. But, despite that, it was also cute seeing how much he cared for you.

“Tim, I know you’re concerned but, I mean—an apartment is a big thing. I—”

He stopped, turning you to face him in the empty hallway. His hands rested on your waist. “I have the money. You can’t live like this. Let me help my lover, okay? I will still do it, you know that. If not now I’ll gift you an apartment for Christmas since it’s around the corner.” His voice got lower. “Besides, we certainly can’t do anything in here, one moan from me—”

“TIM!” you said, flustered, a small embarrassed chuckle escaping your lips.

“What? It’s the truth. Everyone will be all up in our business…” he whined quietly as he got closer, his soft lips leaving a warm kiss on your neck.

“Besides—” he whispered in your ear, causing shivers to run down your spine, “I can’t sneak in with my Red Robin costume here. And you bet your ass I’m coming over after patrol so we can be together. Soooo, an apartment it is,” he hummed proudly, leaving another kiss, this time a soft peck on your lips. He pulled back with a soft smile that just made you want to squeeze his cheeks for how cute he looked.

“Still, I mean…” you sighed softly. “I feel like your sugar baby, hun,” you said half-jokingly.

“Yeah?” he said with a cheeky twinkle in his eye. “Then that just means I need to spoil my baby more. That’s the bare minimum I can do after all hmm?” He wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you close as you two walked off giggling to yourselves like fools, yes, but fools in love.

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[sagaduwyrm]

DCxDP Idea - Tucker x Tim Soulmate AU:

Now on AO3

So the Justice League believes the Fentons and the GIW. Not completely, but enough. That’s the bad news. The worse news is that they have Danny, and are apparently planning to use him in some kind of spell to banish all the ghosts from the living plane. Which, okay, sure, not the worst idea, except that trying to banish a Liminal is a great way to kill them instead, and guess what everyone in Amity Park is? Not to mention what powering such a ritual could do to Danny.

Tucker is not having a panic attack. He might have one later, but right now he has a job to do.

So the thing about the Justice League is that they’re powerful and together they cover each other’s weaknesses, but individually they are, if not manageable, then at least survivable. They can’t take on the entire league, but Ghosts and their ilk have fangs for a reason, and every predator knows how to divide and conquer.

Technus and Skulker are using Lex Luthor’s tech to deal with the Supers. Jazz has got emotional manipulation and FrightKnight’s sword to take down the Flashes. Desiree agreed to start a mage’s duel with the Justice League Dark. Sam, Ember, Johnny, and Kitty hopefully have the watchtower in hand, with Walker playing backup to get Danny free.

Tucker has two jobs. One, work with Technus to take down the Justice League communications without making it look like anything is up. Two, for the love of the Ancients, do not let the Bats realize something is wrong.

And you know what? He’s got this. Duul Aman was the most feared sorcerer of his time. Tucker isn’t him, not really, but he’s no slouch in the magic department. Egyptian magic, the way Duul Aman knew it, was almost like code. Relearning it was as easy as breathing, but the real reason Tucker’s job is to deal with the bats is because he took it further than his last life ever could. Sure, he’s a dab hand at illusions, his curses are almost as nasty as Sam’s, and instant sandstorms are never not useful, but where he really thrives is with tech. Afterall, if ectoplasm can be combined with computers, why can’t magic?

Tucker is the world's first technomage and he’s goddamn proud of it.

It’s his saving grace now. Infiltrating Oracle’s system took weeks, and he still wasn’t able to look at or do anything important, but it was enough of an opening for his magic. He wormed his illusion through every single piece of bat-tech he could reach, whispering in their ear, Gotham needs you. The Justice League is fine. Gotham is where the problems are. 

Weeks of work and sleepless nights, and he still doubts he’ll be able to keep them from noticing anything for more than a few hours. Luckily, by that time Danny will be free and Tucker will be long gone from Gotham.

This confidence lasts until he brushes hands with another guy in the cafe. He can feel the bond snap into place, a soulmark crawling across his body. Tim Drake stares at him, eyes wide but sharp. 

Tim Drake.

Red Robin.

Shit.

Time to see whether fighting ghosts extends to fighting humans, because he is not letting this asshole mess up Danny’s rescue.

+++

The first thing Tim notices when he meets his soulmate is the rage in the man’s eyes.

They’re really pretty eyes. A bright, glowing gold, lined in kohl. Almost certainly a sign of magic. 

They look at him like the man wants to turn him inside out and burn the remains. Tim’s a little offended, beneath the shock and awe.

“Fuck,” the man hisses. Tim’s offense is starting to supersede his surprise. He’s a catch, thank you very much.

He says as much. The man laughs, and it’s almost friendly.  The cafe is empty. The people of Gotham have good instincts, and there’s something in the air around this man that puts Tim’s hackles up.

“You know, I think that’d be more believable if you hadn’t started this.”

Tim’s brow wrinkled. He felt like he’d remember starting something with his soulmate though? What was he supposed to have started, anyway? Saying ‘this’ wasn’t very specific. 

He rolled and dodged to avoid the sudden lash of golden sand. Ah. A fight. He could do that. Figure out why his soulmate was angry later, defeat him now.

He reached up to call for backup and only got static.

Shit.

He was on his own. Time to show this bastard why underestimating a bat was a bad idea.

[esote-rika]

lazy Saturday mornings | Chip Taylor

Pairing: Chip Taylor x fem!Reader Category: smut 18+ MDNI Summary: just another lazy Saturday morning with your boyfriend. Content: mentions of choking, and sex while high, sleepy sex, somnophilia, unprotected p in v, use of baby and pretty girl, overstimulation, creampies, size kink, whiny Chip, hints of soft dom, reader is held down (gently!) Word count: 1.6k A/N: This was a request that Tumblr ate!!!! grrrr, but I remember anon specifically asked for a domestic, smutty size kink fic with boyfriend Chip Taylor so here it is! I love this man sm, I love writing about him living a life with the gf he deservesss. (I’m working on more requests for him so Chip truthers are gonna be fed <3)

Chip Taylor is far from your first boyfriend but dating him has opened an entire world of firsts for you. Firsts you never even considered before. First time getting high and then having sex. First time choking your partner. First time cockwarming a man. Of course, the firsts turned into seconds, and then thirds, fourths, until you’ve lost count. 

You’re convinced it doesn’t matter. You’ll be spending the rest of your life with him anyway. There’s no point in keeping score. 

He likes to make breakfast with you. Not for you, but with you. That had been another first too; your previous relationships expected you to cook for them, or they’d make breakfast for themselves without bothering to make some for you. But not Chip. Even though you’re both hopeless in the kitchen and the combination of your skills are only a step up from making breakfast individually. Maybe a half step—the food is less burnt but somehow always so much weirder in taste. 

You suspect he adds other spices when you’re not looking, and it clashes with the original flavor. Neither of you complain. He scarfs everything down like it’s gourmet and then promises to buy take out when he returns from work. It’s sweet. He’s sweet. You’d keep him tucked in your pocket forever if you could.

Saturday mornings are the best. It’s miraculously both of your days off, so both of you are allowed to dilly dally, to sleep in until noon, and be together the whole day. 

You had figured out another first when you’d slept over at his apartment too; it had been a couple of weeks into dating and you’d woken up to him pressing up into your ass, hard as a rock.

“Sorry,” his mouth on your neck, and his breath had been hot—it made sweat gather across your skin so much faster. Strands of hair cling onto the surface. You hadn’t been sure if it was your own hair or his curls, too distracted by the sound of his voice. Desperation had drowned out his sheepish apology. “Sorry, it just—you’re so—” 

“‘S okay,” you ground your ass against his a little harder before he could move away, “It’s okay, keep going.”

You’d never had sex first thing in the morning before him, but that morning awakened a craving inside you that you weren’t even aware was dormant. Something about the slow drag of his cock, deep and unhurried, driving into you from behind, had you twisting in his arms. 

He’d tightened his hold on you then, pulled you closer, mouth whining pathetically against your neck. 

“So good,” his teeth dragged over your skin as he praised you, over and over again, in a voice so slurred and heavy you almost worried he was drunk, “Feels so good, baby, taking me so well.”

Neither of you left the bed that morning. It was the first time you experienced morning sex, but it certainly wasn't the last. Not with Chip. 

With warm cheeks, you had told him he could fuck you while you're asleep, and given him permission to wake you up by thrusting his massive cock inside your tight heat. He looked like he'd been given the keys to the pearly gates of heaven, eyes wondrous and lustful. 

You can still remember the first time he made good on that agreement. Surprisingly, it had been the smell of him that woke you, not the feeling of his cock stretching you open. He'd come home from work, smelling of sweat and earth and engine grease after an extra-long shift at the auto repair shop—a job he'd found shortly after he moved into your city. It's a strong scent, musky and not entirely pleasant, but God is it hot. A reminder that his body is powerful, that he uses it everyday at work, but comes home yearning for you. 

You had groaned as you woke up, clenching your walls around his cock and gasping as every ridge and vein rippled against you. Strong hands gripped your hips, and, knowing you're awake now, began pulling you roughly into him with every thrust. 

You knew then that this would be a recurring activity.

That’s how you’re waking up today. Calloused hands on the fleshy part of your thighs, pulling you back to impale you on his large cock, over and over again. You whine, fists tightly gripping handfuls of fabric—the bedsheets or the covers, you don’t even know anymore. Whatever thing to keep you grounded as he fucks you into the bed.

“Morning baby,” he whispers into your ear as you shift. He pauses, letting you find a more comfortable position, “How’d you sleep?”

“Mhm.” you burrow your face into the pillows sleepily and push your ass back into him.

He understands the hint quickly. With a laugh, he resumes his thrusts, going at a pace that has you inching off the bed from the impact. 

“Oh god!” You tighten your fists on the sheets to stay steady.

“Too much?” he’s slowing down instantly, but you rock back against him in response.

“No, baby, harder.” You know this is going to have you walking weird all day—no, all weekend. Chip is not a small man by any means, and he’s already filling you so deeply. But you can’t help but want more, want everything. 

You feel his breath fan over your back; a sigh of relief. He continues to move, his hips slamming into your thighs. Going all the way to the hilt, burying himself inside your tight heat, “Fuck, baby, you’re taking me so well.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, honey. So fucking good, you feel that? I’m so deep inside you.” he drapes himself over you, body caging you in, pressing you into the pillow. One hand comes and presses over your lower belly, where the skin is distending with each of his thrusts.

You clench around him with a moan. You don’t know when his arms started feeling like home, only that now you can’t get enough of being engulfed in them. “God, Chip, yes!”

“Feels good?”

“Yes, yes, oh fu—” you bite into the pillow as he shifts, the new angle hitting a spot that forces you to wake up. This isn’t sleepy morning sex anymore; he’s fucking you, plain and simple.

“Can’t get enough of you baby,” he whines, his own face hidden in the crook between your neck and your shoulder. He inhales deeply, relishing in the sweetness of your perfume from the night before, “God, you’re so good, you’re so good—”

“Chip! Fuck, ‘m gonna—”

“That’s it, I got you.” he coos into your hair, one am coming to wrap around your waist. He pulls out slowly, then slams back in, repeatedly as he murmurs sweet nothings, “Come for me, baby, there you go, come all over my cock.”

You shudder in his arms, the pleasure washing over your sleepy body in waves. “Oh god!” 

He swallows your moans with his lips, kissing and fucking you through your orgasm with quick snaps of his hips. He’s chasing his own, and you’re molten in his arms, clenching around his cock mindlessly. He chuckles, nipping your lower lip, “One more, baby.”

It’s not a request. You try to catch your breath, mouth slack and chest heaving, unable to reply.

“Yeah? Can you give me one more, pretty girl?”

You manage to nod, a loud, needy whine leaving your lips as his rough fingers find your clit. He circles the bud carefully, going in directions he’s learned and memorized from weeks of dedicated practice. The combination of his fingers, his cock, and your oversensitive folds has you writhing again, legs kicking out under the tangled sheets. 

He hooks his own leg over both of yours, muscles clenching as he coaxes your limbs to a stop, “That’s it pretty girl, you can take it. Just give me one more, baby.”

Not that you’re keeping score, but Chip is also the first man to ever make you cum more than once. A fact that you’d admitted to him after the first time it happened, a fact that the bastard likes to take advantage of. Case in point, right now. He’s so completely attuned to your body, knows just how much pressure you need to cave until you’re reeling, hurtling headfirst into the sweetest oblivion.

“Yes! Chip, ah—”

“There you go.” he keeps moving, chasing his own release as your walls flutter and tighten around him, “OH god, baby, look at you, so ruined first thing in the morning.” he groans, thrusting once, twice, until the unmistakable feeling of his release fills you.

Catching your breath is almost impossible when he’s still on top of you, and his weight crushing your ribs oh so gently. He’s laying kisses across your skin, languid and tender, once again murmuring praises. “Love you so much, my sweet girl.”

You hum in response, still caught in the midst of pleasure and your dreams, arms looping around his torso. The silence that settles between you is humming with a sense of giddy contentment.

“What do you want for breakfast? We can make bacon and scrambled eggs. I won’t pour salt into it anymore, I promise.” he asks after a few minutes, hips still pressed against yours. He’s inside, still hard, and you can’t help but giggle.

“I don’t think I can even walk let alone cook, Chip.”

He laughs, “Did I wear you out?”

“You always do,” you pull him closer, kissing him with a sweetness that makes something in his chest ache, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Me too… let’s just order breakfast then?” “Make it brunch. I have a feeling you have another round in you.” you clench around his still erect cock suggestively, and laugh as his amber eyes turn almost black.

“Oh, your feeling is right, baby.”

[livin4woso]

Avoidance and Acceptance (mapi+ingrid x reader)

Summary- reader transfers to Barcelona where feelings develop for the only two people you shouldn't fall for, and in an attempt to not make them show, they are left avoiding the two people they want to see most. However maybe these feelings arent so one sided.

Transferring to Barcelona felt like a dream come true. The current champions' league winners were interesting in signing you for 300k from Manchester city. This wasn't your first time in spain after having a loan spell to athletico Madrid in the 22/23 season you found your preformances had gained you a first team place and you're performances between the sticks against Barcelona during the group stages of the champions league had earned some eyes on you. Enough for a Transfer over there while you knew you weren't going to be the starting keeper being the number 2 keeper to the best team in the world was an offer you can't say no too.

The move was rather fast in the January transfer window so your signing went rather under the radar while in progress until the big move which lets say some city fans were not the most pleased about your departure as many believed you were the next big keeper for England at just 23 making many first team debuts which is rather unseen in the goalkeeping community.

The first few days of training were rough, to say the least. Although the language wasn't new, the intensity and pressure to perform well that was definitely a big change for you. You had a few individual keeper sessions with Cata, and your performance was raising a few eyebrows as you looked like a promising threat to Catas' starting position. Then it was time to see if you were the real deal as stopping shots from the goalkeeper coach is very different to having the likes of Alexia Eva Claudia and Mapi taking shots and freekicks at you.

You were brought into full team training with being in goal when the girls would play smaller sided games and you had been blessed with ingrid and mapi as your back line for the game and thier chemistry off the pitch is as good on the pitch it was like they could read eachothers mind when defending and made your life a little bit easier. As you blocked each shot when you were getting up mapi or ingrid would come and pat your back or compliment you and while you know it was just them being friendly the way they looked at you with such passion you couldn't help but start to fall for them... both of them.

Maybe it was the Norwegians cerulean eyes that felt like they saw into you're soul or her nickname the princess of norway because right now you feel like you could get down at her feet and bow before her presence. Or maybe it was mapis intricate sleeve of tattoos each one you could so faintly make the detail out when she faced towards you and how the sun shone so perfectly on her face highlighting the light coloured freckles on her face.

You were quickly snapped out of thought when the ball came flying at your stomach, and without having time to react, you had been winded and were hunched over, trying to get some air back into your lungs again. "Shit y/n, are you okay?" Ingrid asked concern in her tone "mhm" you groan, sticking your thumb up with your face burried in the grass still. Ingrid helps you up off the floor, and you silently thank her as you tighten the velcro on your gloves and try to shake off the thoughts of the two women circling your mind.

Going home that night was certainly interesting lying on your sofa scrolling on social media you couldn't help but follow them as they were your new teamates so it was almost like a rite of passage however what you didn't expect was for them to follow back instantly you thought it would have took atleast a few hours. It was sad to say that this got your hopes up more than it should have and in hopes for maybe another sign you decided to post of your story to see if they would view it as quick as they followed.

Unfortunately the results wasn't the same however each time you clicked on there profiles and saw them together you felt guilty of your feelings and it was almost as if your conscious was trying to smack your heart back to sense and find someone else to like. However, every interaction with the two women had you falling hard and faster then you had expected even seeing them in the corridors would have your heart racing. It was an issue and one you needed to fix quickly.

It was dinner, and the night previous, you had decided to go on hinge and try and meet someone new and just completely ignore all feelings for your teammates. You were talking to aitana and keira who you had become close friends with "yeah i mean this weekend im going on this date with this girl but i think im throwing myself in too fast ive only been here 2 months" you say to keira trying to reason out the date " no but y/n this isnt like you, you normally love going out and dating and dont deny it ive heard the stories" keira said and you nearly spit your drink out from the mentions of your past actions "kieraaa you were not meant to mention anything about them" you said in a hushed tone. Aitana was looking at you with a glint of confusion but also curiosity as although her English wasn't great, she could tell that whatever was said had gotten a reaction out of you.

However what you didn't notice was two people who may have been snooping on your conversation was mapi and ingrid. They had took some keen interest on you when you were at city and had done some previous research on you before moving to Barcelona. But the mention of this date was not sitting right with either of them, but also ingrid had some digging to do from kiera from these stories she had just learnt about.

As you left to go and get ready for the gym mapi followed you down the hall and ingrid went to kiera and so the questioning began. Mapi was quick to get to you "so y/n i heard you have a date this weekend you excited" she said with a smile on her face however her eyes were piercing as if you were in an intervention. "Mhm yeah i mean just.. just trying things out" you could barley look at the defender even tho you were of a much taller stature than her "hmm alright you don't seem so sure but i just wanted to let you know we're having team building on Saturday at mine and ingrids if you need an excuse to get out of it" she said winking at you and walking away leaving your knees weak.

There was no team building at their house it was a setup to get you by yourself at thiers for a confrontation of your feelings as you weren't the most obvious at keeping them concealed. Meanwhile ingrid was still trying to pry the stories out of keira "please i heard you talking about them and she's so modest and quiet she can't have done anything that bad" Ingrid pleaded with keira "okay fine but you have to swear to not tell anyone because she'll kill me if i told anyone" keira responded giving in "i swear i won't" replied ingrid almost smirking knowing shed won "so basically a few years ago lets just say y/n was a bit of a party animal and we were out celebrating the end of the season and at around 11 we lost sight of where she had gone." Keira started with ingrid looking at her with pure focus " so we texted her and she said im back home im busy which everyone knew what that meant so the next day we sent lucy to go and bring her breakfast as she was probably hungover but as she opened the apartment and went in the bedroom to wake her up she found not one girl in her bed but two" keira said almost laughing at the embarrassment of your face when you knew you'd been caught "omg really didn't expect that from her" Ingrid said "yeah well from her reaction even now to this day you can tell it was not her first rodeo" keira said laughing and ingrid had gathered all the information she needed.

That night, ingrid and mapi were discussing their next move, although you were a few years younger that was not stopping either of them. "I told y/n that we had team building here on Saturday to get her out of that date," mapi said to ingrid while shuffling closer to ingrid to wrap her arm around her waist. "Mhm, well, i found out that she's slept with more than one girl before, and it wasn't just a one-time thing," ingrid said, almost proud of her discovery.

Saturday flew round for the three of you. You had an excuse to get out of a date and extra time to see ingrid and mapi, and they were excited because they had a plan to confront you. You had DMd mapi asking what time to arrive for the team building, and she had said around 5pm. After getting changed into some relaxed wear that still looked good enough for the occasion as neither of the older women very often saw you out of training clothes. You arrived at their apartment and as you opened the door you saw you were the first one thier which wasnt an issue but it meant you had to directly make small talk with them without trying to become a puddle.

"So when abouts are the others getting here?" You aksed sheepsihly while sitting at the kitchen island "hm oh sweetie no one else is coming we just have a few things we wanted to talk about with you" Ingrid said walking closer to you and it was if the whole world just stopped moving and you were frozen in your spot. "Oh right, yeah," you said, stuttering out.

"We've noticed that maybe you either have a staring problem or a crush on one of us and we just wanted to make this issue clear" mapi said in a spanish accent making you go feral but also struck with embarrassment "erm im sorry i dont really know what to say" you began to say trying to think carefully about your next words "no its okay cari keep going" mapi said the spanish pet name not helping your thought process. " okay erm maybe i have a crush on you well not just one but both and i know i shouldnt and im really sorry if it makes you uncomfortable i can leave" you began rambling trying to frantically apologise "hey hey no we never said it was a bad thing we just wanted to know before we did anything that was all" Ingrid said grabbing your hand from where it rested nervously tapping on the counter. "Huh, what? i dont understand what you're saying," you said, trying to wrap your brain around the suitation. "Cari, we like you too, and we want you to give us a chance," mapi said, looking directly at you. In this moment, you felt like you were in a fever dream it all felt fake.

"Yeah, i mean, yeah, of course, yeah, you can have a chance," you said, sounding way too eager. "Okay good we'll see you Tuesday night 8pm and we'll take you on a real date so you might want to cancel that other one" mapi said smirking knowing that you had only tried to go on a date as a distraction from them. " yeah course im gonna have to go now ive got a date to cancel on" you said leaving the kitchen and just as you're about to leave you shout down the hall "by the way you looked very good tonight, both of yous" "you too cari" mapi replied as you smiled and waved leaving their apartment.

"Well, that was successful,no?" Ingrid said to mapi once you had left. Meanwhile, you were skipping down the hallway. And since that night you're relationship had been great and still to this day you still didn't know that kiera had shared one of you're craziest stories atleast it wasn't the time youd been nearly caught with 3.

A/N- Sorry for the disappearance guys ive been super busy, so im sorry if this isn't the best as im a bit rusty as i haven't written in ages, but some recs would be nice.

[httpvomitello]

Pretty Girls Fight Like This! *⁠.⁠✧

April had brought you into the lair one night, insisting you’d be a valuable addition to the team. At first, Donnie thought you’d be like anyone else, but then he saw you.

Your bright, pastel-colored outfit caught his attention immediately, a stark contrast to the dim, industrial tones of the lair. And then there was your hair—long, flowing, and streaked with colors so vibrant it almost looked like a prism.

“Is your hair... naturally like that?” Donnie asked before he could stop himself.

You laughed, brushing a strand behind your ear. “Nope! It’s dyed. I like to stand out, you know?”

Donnie blinked, unsure how to respond. You certainly stood out, that was for sure.

He quickly learned there was more to you than your eye-catching appearance.

One of the first things that caught him off guard was your strength. During a training session, Donnie watched in stunned silence as you easily lifted a heavy training dummy and hurled it across the room.

“Impressive,” he muttered, adjusting his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

You grinned, wiping sweat from your brow. “Thanks! I’ve always been a bit on the stronger side.”

“A bit?” Donnie repeated, incredulous.

“Okay, maybe a lot,” you admitted with a wink.

Donnie didn’t say anything, but he made a mental note to measure your strength later—purely for scientific purposes, of course.

Then there was your appetite.

One evening, Donnie walked into the kitchen to grab a snack and found you sitting at the table with Mikey, the two of you demolishing an entire pizza.

“Wow,” Donnie said, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t think anyone could keep up with Mikey’s eating habits.”

You swallowed a mouthful of pizza and smiled. “What can I say? I love food!”

Mikey laughed, nudging you playfully. “Don’t worry, D. Y/N’s got a black hole for a stomach like me!”

Donnie couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head. “Of course...”

Despite your quirks—or maybe because of them—Donnie found himself intrigued by you.

Your bright clothes, your boundless energy, your unapologetic individuality... It was all so different from the calculated, methodical world he lived in.

One thing that particularly caught his attention was your socks—or, more accurately, your constant struggle to keep them from slipping. Every time you adjusted them during training, Donnie couldn’t help but notice.

“Why don’t you just get longer socks?” he asked one day, genuinely curious.

“I’ve tried,” you said with a sigh. “But they always fall down. It’s so annoying!”

That conversation stuck with him, and a few days later, Donnie found himself tinkering in his lab. He designed a pair of custom socks with reinforced elastic, ensuring they wouldn’t slip no matter how much you moved.

When he handed them to you, you were surprised.

“They're for me?” you said, holding them up.

“They’re designed to stay up during activity,” Donnie explained, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “I noticed you were struggling with yours, so I thought these might help.”

Your face lit up, and you gave him a beaming smile. “Donnie, that’s so thoughtful! Thank you!”

You hugged him tightly, catching him off guard.

“It’s nothing,” he said, trying to play it cool. But his heart was racing, and he couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face.

Over time, Donnie found himself growing more and more attached to you.

It wasn’t just your strength or your unique style—it was the way you treated him. You didn’t just see him as “the smart one” or “the tech guy.” You saw him.

And you had a way of surprising him with small gestures, like bringing him snacks while he worked or showing genuine interest in his inventions.

One day, you handed him a small bracelet made of colorful beads.

“What’s this?” Donnie asked, examining it.

“A good luck charm,” you said with a smile. “I thought you could use it in the lab.”

Donnie stared at the bracelet, his chest tightening. It was such a simple gesture, but it meant so much to him.

“Thank you,” he said softly, slipping it onto his wrist.

Donnie wasn’t used to feeling this way—flustered, nervous, happy. But with you, it felt natural.

You were a whirlwind of color and energy in his otherwise structured world, and he found himself drawn to you in ways he didn’t fully understand.

[inkpot909]

First Love Headcanons: Noriaki Kakyoin

↳ Fem!Reader with she/her pronouns. Reader is written as being on the shy, gentle side. Reader’s backstory, stand, and reason for joining the crusaders is left up in the air.

A/n: This was so self-indulgent. I hope it shows how much I’ve thought about this. I hope y’all enjoy! <3

Warning(s): Canon-typical swearing. Mentions of canon-typical violence.

Before being on the receiving end of a mind-altering flesh bud, Kakyoin would’ve raised an eyebrow at the prospect of falling for someone within the span of 50 days.

Experiencing romantic love? Him? Maybe in another lifetime.

Hell… simply making friends within that same span of time seemed absurd. Not because he deemed himself incapable of making connections, but due a lack of desire. No need to grow close with people he assumed wouldn’t ever fully understand him.

It’s a difficult concept to wrap his head around, without a doubt. Seventeen years of numbing isolation will do that to an individual.

That’s not to say he hasn’t daydreamed here and there.

Kakyoin’s certainly let his mind wander down a road paved with hopefulness. Looking to his parents and wondering what it’d be like to form such a strong connection. His thoughts growing indulgent and jumping on a particular train. Leading eventually to… whatever plane of existence lovers live on.

Okay, so Kakyoin didn’t even know how fully contextualize romance within his own mind.

It’s a difficult thing to grasp when you merely see it from a secondhand perspective… usually from one’s own parents, of all things.

At least his mother and father offered a positive idea of how relationships should function. Mutually supportive; partners through and through. It’s what he’s come to expect and wouldn’t dream of settling for less.

Experiencing the actual feeling involved? Not at all. He’s always been known as a ‘pretty’ guy, but that doesn’t mean much when he’s remained wholly uninterested.

At the very least, he harbored a general idea of what he wanted.

Beyond hoping for a mutually supportive dynamic, he’s confident over his preferred type. His likes and dislikes, whether it be shallow or far more personal.

Regardless of his own preconceived notions in regards to his own future, he does end up forming meaningful connections. While not under the most unconventional circumstances, he does form a tight nit group of friends.

And even more than that, he meets you:

Tower of Grey was the priority at hand… the first of DIO’s followers encountered after leaving Japan. The safety of sleeping passengers filling the seats being far more important than anything else in that very moment.

But just as Kakyoin laid stomach-first on the floor of the plane’s narrow walkway… blood trickling down his forehead and his expression stern… the bug-like stand boasted on. Believing in an assured victory, as if it had already won.

The gears in Kakyoin’s mind chug intently, his stand’s tendrils moving unseen beneath the seats. His eyes widening when he feels something in particular.

A stranger… who makes themselves known a second later. An observer watching silently from across the isles, jumping to action.

There was no time to wonder if you understood what was going on- no time to even warn -before you lunge forward. A stand fazing into sight behind you. Geared up and ready, almost taunting the bug with the shock of its own existence.

Your heart pounded against your chest when the bug directed its attention to you, the distraction proving to have worked.

Just being there was more than enough to catch the egotistical personality off guard for a moment, letting out a profanity. Merely a second or two of hesitation, but enough to offer Kakyoin a quick opening for a finishing blow. Finally getting the drop on the particularly fast-moving stand.

With the stand user fallen limp, his tongue split down the middle and eyes rolled back, Kakyoin turns his head to finally get a good look at you. His lips kept together, but his eyebrows raised.

Your own eyes have grown wide, fully turning towards the group of imposing men.

Just from quietly examining your raised eyebrows and agape mouth, you’re visibly just as startled as they all are. As far as they can tell, you’d merely witnessed the fight going down as an initial bystander. Assessing it quickly and not hesitating a moment further once you saw the shortest of them get hurt. To their credit, it was pretty much what had happened from your perspective.

The men size you up blankly, and without much to immediately say.

To tussle with a stand user so early into the trip, high above a body of water within a plane, is a heart-pounding situation. With hindsight, though, it’s to be expected. Taking such a public and compromising mode of transportation was mistake with absurdly dangerous consequences.

But to discover another… who’s seemingly detached from either side of the DIO conflict- now that is cause for surprise.

Your eyes gloss over the men. Flickering between each of them, until landing on the redhead you’d just assisted. Blood is still drying on his forehead. But his expression has shifted to a more thoughtful one… violet eyes looking at you in a way that makes you feel small.

Merely a moment passes before the oldest of the group takes initiative. Stepping forward, he lets out a huff of hesitation before saying, “Thank you… erm-…?”

“Y/n… L/n…” you responded, shifting your attention to him and taking a step back. You’re on gentle guard; hesitant. A contrast to your determined initiative moments ago.

Surely you’d seen a good chunk of what the group was capable of? That would be cause for cautiousness. None of them knew just how much you had seen before stepping in…

“Joestar, dear. Joseph Joestar,” Joseph smiles gently, a gleam present in his eyes. Hoping to defuse anxious thoughts creeping into your skull, if only a little. But your expression stays the same.

“I think… we could offer each other an explanation,” he suggests in a trying manner. His head tilts to the side, appreciative of the fire proved to be present behind eyes so apparently soft and hesitant on the regular.

Stand or not, the situation is overwhelming. Examining Joseph’s demeanor, and his two gloved hands held up in peace… you eventually nod in agreement. Answers… yes, you’d certainly like to know whatever the hell that was.

The old man opens his mouth again, preparing to make an attempt at a short explanation, only to be cut off by a stomach-dropping tilt of the plane.

You had your own reasons for being on the plane that day… the specifics of which were totally lost on Kakyoin and the others for a good while.

Discussions with Joseph after safely making it out of the plane wreck, Hong Kong’s hustle and bustle in the background, lead you to realizing you and the group held a common goal with the pursuit of DIO. Whether or not you’d even heard the name before the old man spoke it. In regards to your own pursuits, going after DIO was the answer.

That revelation prompted you into asking if you may accompany the group on their way to Egypt. A suggestion only disapproved by Jotaro.

And from the moment he saw you that day aboard the plane, you’d already earned respect from Kakyoin.

He holds himself to a high standard… something he holds others around him to as well. Sure, he’s a naturally polite individual, but he’s not exactly shy calling it how he sees it.

He harbors too much self-respect to think of settling for people he can’t trust or who hold no dignity.

The specific circumstances in which you joined the crusaders… helping a group of strangers with powers like your own in order to ensure the safety of both them and the passengers…

Safe to say he had no hangups about you accompanying them, to say the least.

Being a generally soft-spoken, pretty girl definitely helps too. Not that he’s inclined mention it out loud. He’s not that socially maladjusted. Mostly. He’d like to believe.

He is thinking it, though.

You were just so quiet that first day in Hong Kong. Every time he pointed something out to you and Jotaro, you nodded along gently with a soft smile. Even asking for elaboration once or twice.

It’s a lot better than the huffs and puffs coming from Jotaro.

Kakyoin eventually starts dropping facts from his bag of random trivia on you specifically. Immediately, you’re responsive to his informative brand of talking at you. Likely hoping to get past any initial awkwardness you feel throwing off the established dynamic.

All while you go along agreeably with the group’s decisions beyond his casual information dumping.

From deciding to tackle the journey any way other than by plane, to Mr. Joestar’s order of food in the restaurant the group ate at… you politely nodded along.

Your facial expressions are enough to pick up on how you’re feeling. Kakyoin can’t help but find it nice. Putting the pieces together inside his head on where you stand. Knowing when it’s best to let others take the helm in decisions you’re unfamiliar with.

So you’re situationally flexible too… that’s good.

As observant of a guy as Kakyoin is… he notices almost instantly that you gravitate towards sticking by him or Avdol. In both calm and stressful situations.

Mr. Joestar… his boisterousness makes you flinch. Even more so is the case with a guy like Polnareff, despite the Frenchman making a point to be gentle with a ‘nice little lady like yourself’.

And Jotaro… well… you’re expression sours, failing to hold back cringe each time the two of you interact. Acutely aware he doesn’t like you at all at the beginning.

Heh… so be it, Kakyoin thought.

If sticking close to him or Avdol is what you prefer, Kakyoin’s not about to complain. You’ve already proven yourself to be adaptable… and only more opportunities will arise from here on out. With each passing stand encounter, he grows more and more convinced you’re a really reliable individual.

Even more so, you begin involving yourself in conversations. Something that opens the door to less small talk and discussions holding more substance.

It’s freeing to feel less in the spotlight, despite it being as natural of a thing as talking. But with someone as unused to it as Kakyoin, the smaller things really get to him early on.

That’s what first floods his chest with warmth, genuinely enjoying a comfortable air developing through casual conversation. Not just that, there’s fondness in the tiniest input from you. Smiling at the others’ antics or laughing lightly when Kakyoin bickers with Polnareff.

Friendship is a necessary foundation to be established for an individual like Kakyoin to grow even remotely romantically interested.

And how long did it take for that to happen? For him to silently consider you a friend? Two weeks at most… it must’ve been. God, Kakyoin feels lightheaded just thinking about what that means to him.

You mean something to him already. How weird is that?

Kakyoin’s not necessarily avoidant of how he feels, merely perplexed. A rather new, but internally exciting position to be in.

His care for you making his heart race faster with each passing stand encounter.

There’s vigor in how he stands up for you if you’re hurt or are unable to fight for yourself. He keeps his temper, not the type to lose it, but his eyes speak to the emotions guiding his proaction.

And to his delight… you react the same whenever the role is reversed.

Now… yes, he knows you like sticking by him. And now that he’s thinking of it again, when was the last time you stick by Avdol too? You certainly don’t stand this close to anyone else. The physical distance having been growing smaller and smaller. You’re damn near hanging off his arm.

Kakyoin’s such an enabler, letting you do so without complaint. Head held up high.

Honestly… it takes weight off his shoulders. He appreciates the ease of recognizing mutual fondness. It furthers the comfortable air between you two.

All while Kakyoin’s kicking his past self for avoiding something that comes naturally to him when gazing into your eyes:

“And here I thought we’d finally be able to sleep in a bed.”

Kakyoin’s voice sounds gently, standing between you and Jotaro. The three students of the group… he often acted as a physical buffer you and the grump. There is reason for you to act cocky, considering Jotaro finally accepted the fact that you are even there just a few days ago.

You know better than to let it get to you, though. Especially since he still remains outwardly apathetic pretty much everything leaving your mouth. But he’ll listen when you speak and acknowledges your existence! Now, we’re talking.

Late into this particular night… none of the seethe radiating off him is directed at you.

The three of you are turned towards the lake before you, standing in a row. Conveniently looking away from both Polnareff and Joseph. Moonlight reflects against the water’s surface pleasantly. The smell of the cigarette Jotaro had smoked still lingering in the air, and invading your nostrils.

As sweet of a sight as the water may be, the scene doesn’t do much to ease any lingering wariness… only making eyelids feel heavier, if anything.

You glance downwards to your left, Polnareff still sulking by himself on the ground a few paces away. You felt a pang of pity looking at him. Just a moment of consideration later and you neglect to speak to him. Practically feeling the gentle annoyance of the two to your right. Not that… you don’t understand the sentiment.

Especially Kakyoin’s sighing mutter in particular.

“If the old man hadn’t screwed up,” Jotaro speaks up, his arms crossed as he responds. “We wouldn’t be out here hiding from the cops.”

Your gaze shifts away from Polnareff to nothing in particular a moment or two, your brows gently furrowed. Without contemplating it first, your head moves. Peering over at Kakyoin beside you.

“Least Mr. Joestar’s not in custody,” you comment lightly.

Just the idea of it is stressful… your heart hurting at the thought. Even more so, your brain stresses just from knowing how much precious time it would waste. Knowing full well by now you don’t even need to point that out to someone like Kakyoin. He just… gets it.

“Hmph…” Jotaro huffs, nearly a grunt.

Kakyoin’s eyes travel to meet yours, disregarding Jotaro’s dismissal of your trying optimism. The ghost of a smile appears on the redhead’s lips.

“Haven’t crossed the border yet,” he reminds you. His tone lacking the exhaustion it holds when pointing something out to the likes of Polnareff or Mr. Joestar. His pleasant smile… it lingers as well.

“Heh-…” you let out a lighthearted sigh and your trying expression fades a little. Not completely deterred by his words, your tone remains on the sweet side as you retort, “Way to spike my worry back up.”

To your relief, your lighthearted response only seems to amuse Kakyoin. The exact reaction you had hoped for.

“Mr. Joestar said he’s handling it… he owes us as much,” Kakyoin replies.

“Hmm… even after today?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. “Giving him that much credit now, Kakyoin?”

He hums softly, trying to momentarily suppress his smile while rubbing his chin with his index finger. Moving his hand away when he sarcastically figures, “Well… he managed to grab us a car.”

“Small victories…?” you giggle lightly, raising your eyebrows in a playful manner.

“Small victories,” he nods in agreement, allowing his grin to grow wider.

Kakyoin’s smile… I’ve been seeing it a lot more lately, you note. I really hope it’s-

“Don’t fret, you two,” Joseph speaks up from behind.

He cuts the moment short and your stomach drops, making space for a familiar disappointment to pool inside. Your brows subtly furrow, and you biting your lower lip less you pull a pout. Not spiteful towards Joseph… just wishing the short talk with Kakyoin had time to continue.

You turn, only to see the older man casually gesturing to the aforementioned car he’d gotten his hands on. “I took care of things.”

Kakyoin doesn’t point it out less you sheep away in embarrassment, but the disappointment you think you don’t show… he notices.

Quietly allowing you to sit a bit too close beside him at restaurant tables, for example. That same look on your face when the spotlight shifts anywhere else… it’s totally worth it.

Or when you rest your head on his shoulder while taking a bus or car. Polnareff or Joseph will often prompt conversation that demands and derails attention. Even Kakyoin feels a silent sigh escape his nostrils.

Luckily, even more than explicitly mentioning it out loud, he wouldn’t dream of teasing you over it either. Win’t even throw you a knowing glance. Anything to keep you from hiding that cute expression away.

Wait, cute?

So… okay, he can work with that. Mhm. No need for concern or anything of the sort. It’s not like the descriptor popped into his head so fast he couldn’t stop himself if he tried. It’s just one little word… that crawled into his brain and refused to go to the back of it the majority of the car ride.

Well, this is happening, he distinctly recalls thinking.

Really, that’s about as long as it takes for him to come to terms with how he feels about you. The span of an overnight car ride.

Kakyoin may have purposely isolated himself for most of his life, but he’s too self-assured to think of pushing the feeling down.

More than that… you’re just so lovely.

When was the last time being this close to someone felt so right? Never? Good god… it all feels so natural when it comes to you, in and out of combat.

For a stand user… your generally pretty gentle as well.

Not there isn’t any mental strength in spite of or because of that sort of demeanor… Kakyoin just hadn’t personally experienced that before meeting you. And he really admires that.

Then again, Kakyoin’s the type to find beauty in practically everything in regards to the subject of his affections.

… is it weird to be thinking about one person this much? For Pete’s sake, is this what it’s like? Had his father felt like a moron like this too? Did Mr. Joestar think himself going nuts as well?

Perceived weirdness be damned, as soon as he’s fallen, he’s loyal and all in.

It’s similar to the natural progression of learning to enjoy the others’ company. Similar, yes, but the same? Not at all, of course.

And Kakyoin’s not the only one who notices the difference in your dynamic together; he’s most definitely got mixed feelings on that.

Avdol seemed to be the first.

Before Kakyoin noticed he’d caught feelings, Avdol would peer at the two of you with a tiny smile on his face. Kakyoin had thought back then he’d been amused on a surface level… which ended up not being correct with hindsight.

Damn it all… how could I let him notice before me? Kakyoin thinks, feeling more than a little foolish.

Kakyoin was lamenting over a look… god bless him.

Once the others start noticing, all hell has broken loose. They make Avdol look like a damn saint.

Joseph and Polnareff are a duo conceived in hell purely to torture Kakyoin. He won’t lie, he can get rather short with either of them in the face of their teasing. He’s really good at flipping the script on them and offering a harsh dig, which hasn’t failed in changing the conversation thus far.

“We have some time to kill after breakfast… you and Y/n should go out on a little rendezvous!” Joseph will suggest, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Ha! I caught you staring again! You think you’re so slick, don’tcha?” Polnareff will laugh, nudging his arm a bit too harshly.

“You can pair with her while we separate and search… we know how much you like her!” they’ll both exclaim, no matter how inappropriate might be in the given situation.

… screw their feelings, Kakyoin’s going verbally nuclear.

Kakyoin would really prefer it they wouldn’t be so obvious with their teasing right in front of you. Unfortunately, getting on their case directly has proven to only encourage them further.

Worse of all… he can feel the judgement rolling off Jotaro’s body. Constantly. Uncomfortably.

He doesn’t say anything, and frankly, he doesn’t need to. As if Jotaro would need to do that to drive home a point.

Getting all close to you right beside or in front of Jotaro leaves Kakyoin dealing with the stink eye for a good ten minutes.

In all… it’s annoying, but not unbearably so. Nothing that warrants a conversation, anyway. You seem amused, at the very least.

What does make Kakyoin wary… is the situation you’re all in.

Never mind that in just the span of a month he’s got more people surrounding him than he previously thought possible. The circumstance in particular is what puts a strain on both his head and heart.

Definitely has an attitude of “Maybe after the journey…” for the majority of it.

You don’t seem to be the type to want to take much initiative, and he’s a touch too comfortable keeping things just the way they are. No need to rush when there are greater priorities.

Though, one could argue he’s procrastinating a little. Polnareff has certainly made the case.

The Frenchman couldn’t get him to budge… in fact, it’s a run in with a certain sleep-stalking stand that does.

The encounter solidified the update to his thinking the trip had been instigating, in more ways than one. It’s all to do with his returning confidence; growing fully reassured in himself once more.

Applicable both in and out of fights. As well as his approach to you, in particular.

The complete lack of control he had throughout most of the encounter… as well as how hard you tried understanding his position when no one else could… none of them are guaranteed to wake up the next morning, right?

And waiting…? Upon reflection, Kakyoin changes his perspective on it. How cowardly would that be?

He’s not about to face DIO again without letting you know how he feels first.

Too many possibilities could come from the inevitable confrontation, a good chunk of what he could think of not exactly being pleasant. He doesn’t want to plan for the worse… but he would prefer to step up and be there for you like he knows he wants to deep down.

Every day of the trip, as dangerous as it gets, were the better ones of his upbringing. That’s large in part because of you.

From assuming he’d never get close to wanting to speak about such a thing… to knowing he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t.

That being said, there weren’t many opportunities for a breather after crossing the desert. The boarder into Egypt moving closer and closer within the group’s reach with each passing hour.

And just as quickly as it was crossed… there was another attack- his very own sight put at risk.

In all honesty, he doesn’t remember much of the ordeal before waking up at the hospital with bandages over his eyes. He’d been going in and out of consciousness, enough to make his memory of the event rather hazy.

Kakyoin can recall the pain. That… and your presence at his side almost entirely throughout.

He didn’t know how to feel immediately about it.

Thankful for your presence, though not much could ground him in a situation like that one. Or guilt over you witnessing him in such a state.

He lands somewhere in the middle.

Fussing was pushed to the back of his mind the second his hospital room door was flung open not long after waking. Voices pooling into the clean yet bare space and footsteps making their way closer.

Booming and almost laughing, expressing relief to see him up and looking alive. Several hands patting him on the back or nudging his arm.

As well as a familiar hand gently touching his shoulder, a softer voice poking through the others.

He’s listened to it for hours collectively by now… but a part of him figures he could do it for days.

There’s a lingering warmth present, moral quite positive despite everyone understanding Kakyoin would be left behind for his recovery. Regardless… the fact that his eyesight wouldn’t be affected in the long run lifted a massive weight.

Kakyoin is too levelheaded to think otherwise, he knows you must move on without him.

But he finds himself hoping the moment will drag anyways:

“… I will catch up with you later,” Kakyoin assures with a smile. Bandages over his eyes… speaking to the group without the sight available to point his attention to anyone in particular.

Polnareff leaning forward, putting weight on his hands against the hospital bed mattress to his left. You sit facing him on his right, legs hanging off the side. The others circle around the bed as Kakyoin offers his words of encouragement in the face of his upcoming absence.

He’s too strong to sulk… you think, But it must sting to have to sit on the sidelines when we’re getting so close.

“It’s less than 800 kilometers to Cairo… and DIO,” he continues. “Everyone, you must be vigilant.”

Polnareff nods, giving Kakyoin a pat on the shoulder. The others give the redhead their well-wishes as the Frenchman offers you a glance before standing up straight, following Avdol and Jotaro out the door. The men shuffling towards the exit one by one.

You’re the last of the group to move, slowly sliding yourself off the hospital bed. Kakyoin’s head lowers, feeling the dip in the thin mattress vanish.

Joseph, taking up the rear of the group still diffusing out the room, pauses just before the doorway. Looking your way. “Y/n,” he mutters softly, halting you after taking only a single step.

“Hm?” you hum, biting your lower lip.

His lips curl into a smile, eyes glimmering with gentleness. “We’ll go and pay the bill. Could be quite the tedious process… we’ll meet you down in a few, alright?”

Thank you, Mr. Joestar, you think. Holding back a grin as you nod a handful of times hastily.

“Heh…” the old man huffs out a soft laugh, his expression shifting to a smirk before exiting the room. The door clicking shut behind him.

You turn back towards Kakyoin… noting how he’s lifted his head once more. The sunlight pools in through elongated windows, shining against his skin. Unharmed from what you can see… aside from pale bandages wrapped around his eyes. Anything to keep you from seeing his eyes a mutilated, bloodied mess like that ever again.

“Y/n,” he calls your name, lightly gesturing for you to sit down again and pulling you from your silent gawking.

With a smile, you accept the invitation. Plopping right back down where you’d been sitting… if not a little closer. Kakyoin turns his head a tad, close enough to your general direction.

“I have a favor to ask.”

“A favor?” you echo, humming in thought. Both your voices have quieted. Pleasant, but gentler in the comfort of one-on-one company. “Of course… what do you need, Kakyoin?”

He reaches to his right, fingertips searching for the surface of a tiny nightstand next to the hospital bed. When he finds it, his hand smartly slides down its top drawer. Opening it and shuffling around inside, taking a moment to find whatever he’s looking for.

He shuts the drawer with a clenched fist a moment later, fingers wrapped around the unseen object he had grabbed.

“May I have your hand?” he asks, his free hand lifting up with an open palm.

“Mhm,” you hum, gently placing your hand atop his.

Kakyoin lets out a soft chuckle when he feels your smaller hand rest in his hold. Having touched it enough by now to recognize it’s yours by the feel alone. Letting it sit that way a second before gingerly flipping your hand over. Guiding the movement via your wrist, so that he instead cradles your hand while it lies palm-up in patient expectation.

“Keep these safe for me while I recover, will you?”

Without a word of warning, his other hand reaches out and places what he’d retreated in the palm of your hand. Two little red marble-looking balls now sit there, attached to silver hooks that let them both dangle at a slight curve.

“Your… earrings?” you ask, voice dropping to a whisper. Peering down at the dainty set in your hand. “Kakyoin, I don’t under-“

“Keep them with you… and make sure they remind you to keep yourself safe, okay?”

You lift your gaze, taken aback by the gentleness of his tone. Aside from today, you’d hardly ever seen seen him without wearing the set. Only removed on the handful of occasions he’s traded with Jotaro or Polnareff.

“Are you sure…?” you ask, blinking dumbly.

“Yeah,” he confirms, nodding. “I’ll take them back when I see you again. How about that?”

Your fingers curl around the earrings, holding them secure. The backs lightly poke your skin, but your hand keeps its hold. Resolving to keep them safe and on your person. A piece of him that will continue journey on with you while he’s in recovery.

“Is that a promise, Kakyoin?” you ask him, knowing the answer as soon as the question leaves your lips.

“Heh…” he chuckles lightly, his head tilting to the side once again. “Certainly. I’ll be back before you know it… but really… I’d like you to promise me you’ll be safe.”

Kakyoin holds your hand tighter in his, and his free hand blindly reaches out. Bumping against your shoulder, before finding its intended destination on your face. As soon as his fingertips brush against your cheek, your heart skips a beat. Holding your jaw gingerly, as if he were handling porcelain.

“I promise, Kakyoin, I promise…” you assure gently. There’s really no certainty in safety from here on out, the fact that he’s in a hospital bed making it apparent.

Kakyoin, for once, doesn’t care if it’s silly. Just hearing you promise to look out for yourself helps him swallow the reality that he’ll be absent from your side.

“Thank you,” he sighs, shoulders dropping. “I couldn’t stand it if I heard of you getting seriously hurt-”

“Kakyoin…”

“-without me being there to have anything to do about it. Because I… really-“

“Kakyoin, should we even-“

“Noriaki,” he cuts you off gently, his hand squeezing yours. Not wanting to let you avoid the conversation. “Please, Y/n, call me Noriaki.”

“I-…” you hesitate, heart feeling heavy. Is this really happening? “It’s… not like you to… you know…”

“Be so forward?” he asks, a smirk creeping onto his face.

“No, no, you’re forward…” you admit, letting out a laugh. You feel pleasantly lightheaded; surprised by the turn the goodbye has taken. How right it feels. “It’s not like you to… be this forward. Understand what I mean?”

His thumb lightly brushes along the skin on your cheek, leaning himself forward. Careful as he invades your personal space, slowly ensuring his position is aligned the way he’s hoping it is.

“I do. Is it alright…?” he asks, listening intently for any hint he’s pushing you too much. Only receiving a beat of silence, his heart halts in place until he picks up on your bashful reply:

“It is… erm, Noriaki.”

He smiles again, nodding and keeping lips pressed together… and if you could see his eyes, you assume there’d be a gleam of amusement present within. You wait for his reply, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, he takes in a deep breath before leaning in further, taking you by surprise yet again. His lips pressing against yours.

They’re still chapped and dry from the desert heat, just like your own. But he moves slow and gentle, barely a sound in the room accept for hesitant lips interlocking in a bashful first kiss. He’s inexperienced with it, but the two of you follow each other and melt into the action with the angling of your faces.

His hand stays put on your cheek, and his other squeezes your fist, his heart swelling with the knowledge you’re still carrying his earrings. Letting out a sigh of relief into the kiss before hesitantly breaking it.

“Noriaki…” you whisper, following along and pulling away from the kiss when he does.

It made your heart do flips… leaving you with wanting more. But you know time is short. Your eyes flicker to the clock hanging on the wall, frowning at the realization you should’ve descended to the first level three minutes ago.

“You uhm…” you clear your throat. “You owe me another when you catch up with us.”

“Hmph,” he smiles, dropping his hand from your face. “You got a deal. I’d really like to see the look on your face after doing something like that. You get really red under casual circumstances, you know that?”

“… I wish I didn’t learn that just now, Noriaki.”

Kakyoin listens as your footsteps carry outside his hospital room, his smile lingering on his face long after you’re gone.

The coming days will be slow… but the idea there’s people eager for his return makes it all bearable. People who truly know him and harboring mutual loyalty… it’s still funny for him to ponder. Likely will be for a a good while.

The future looks brighter with someone like you a part of his life. Kakyoin cannot help but look forward to it without hesitation on his mind and merely flourishing hope in his heart.

He’s got someone at his side he truly loves, after all, and that means more to him than he’d ever know how to properly express.

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT. 7 ANGELS IN DISGUISE

Hello! Decided to dedicate this observation list to some pretty sensitive placements. If you have any of these placements or know someone that do, I hope you enjoy the list I've created !

Neptune 7th house people have a urgency to help others. Their compassionate healers who walk out into the world and people grasp on to their presence not knowing the reason why. In due time, they'll recognize that neptune 7th house person spirit is like no others. They have this Mother Theresa spirit to them. Very honest and vulnerable to the ones they love, they can almost certainly have a few tricksters walk amongst their path. Although they are incredibly sweet, they're discernment levels are to the T. Its unfortunate when they don't use it, they just want to see the good in you. They have a dreamy like quality to their presence that others notice right away. Captivating, but mysterious. People have no idea what they're getting into when being with them, but they know if they don't act right the cosmic forces in these people don't mind a cute lil revenge. ;)

Moon in Pisces see the beauty in everything. And it reflects back into their beautiful spirits. They're okay with being misunderstood, its just their empathetic bodies take on so many unwanted reactions and energy it's hard for them to feel accepted. They have a honest approach with life, and try their best not to belittle others with this truth. Their honest with themselves however can sugarcoat the truth a little to put less pressure on their wounds and others. therapeutic souls, they naturally attract others to tell them their deepest thoughts. It purifies them. Just being able to converse with moon pisces babes cleanses their auras and makes the skeletons feel a lil dance inside. No more hiding in their, they can take off their masks with them. Moon pisces babes can also be a little too generous with their funds, do not allow others sob stories to be the reason your wallets are being sucked dry. Tell them no. Boundaries are important with this group.

Venus in Pisces have this dreamy, ethereal nature to them its like a fairytale. Their desires tend to realize itself in practical realities more often then they think. When around others, they are like a dream come true. They have unreal personalities.Their gift in this lifetime is to share the joy and beauty of the inner child. They have a love for the universe and in return the universe gives them more than what they could of asked for. It's a beautiful placement. Venus in pisces must be careful because they attract a lot of narcissists in their corner. The narcs can see their beauty, power, and light and know that it can benefit them. Be smart about who you allow into your temple. You are literally a walking God/Goddess.

Mercury in the 1st House ; Believe it or not they have an innocence to them thats hard to ignore. Their like a youthful little child that never grows old. Their charm is impeccable. They can be little tricksters but in a way that it oozes a beautiful quality to it. Its funny. You can talk to them about anything and you can feel your mind soar because your mind gets to expand itself when your with them. They show you the way to relax and just be in the moment. Their a gift to this world when they're just being themselves.

Moon in the 3rd ; Natural healers. They connect with the community in a way that touches every soul they come in contact with. Very empathetic and need more alone time than most. They have to discern people way more than they would like. No matter how stand-offish they can appear, they still have a regal, likeable nature to them that attracts people like flies. We can naturally feel the sweetness off of them no matter what. Boundaries are something that's difficult for this placement, as their auric fields process information when they're not asking for it.

MOON IN THE 1ST are very likeable and are naturally open individuals. They can be secretive, but that mysterious charm is what pulls in others truest feelings towards them. People who do this to them just have a knowing that they will take what they say and not throw it in their face. They have a naturally sensitive personality so they can push others away easily. Its not by force it's just the way things flow. People with this placement can actually be pretty popular. Its the sweetness we feel off of them, and we just want more of it!

Neptune in the 3rd ; Its their voice. Their voice can soothe people. Its meditation for the spirit. They should consider doing asmr or even meditation videos using their voice! Oracles who learn to trust their gut at a young age, they use this gift to help guide others. They are attracted to the unknown, but this darkness is filled with so much light deep inside. The things that scare us can easily be heavenly to them. They walked that path in order to fight the light. It's just what they do.

ENJOY!

[theartofcollapse]

what about Alex Cabot x fem reader who just sweeps Alex off her feet with her words and charming demeanor and Alex just can’t get enough😫

reader is really a lover girl and maybe Alex isn’t used to that

ps: I love your writing you’re a great writer!!

a/n: thank you so much!🤍 and thank you for requesting. summary: read it above pairing: Alex Cabot x female reader warnings: none word count: 1K

masterlist

Princess Charming - Alex Cabot

The New York air was crisp as the late evening settled over the city. The buzz of Manhattan outside the courthouse windows was a constant hum, but Assistant District Attorney Alexandra Cabot was immune to it. She was a woman who lived by her schedules, her rules, and her carefully curated walls. That is, until you waltzed into her world like a burst of sunshine cutting through the rain.

It started the first time you testified as a key witness for one of her cases. You were eloquent, sharp, and undeniably magnetic. Alex was used to dealing with hardened individuals and cut-and-dry cases. But you? You carried a warmth about you that made her almost forget she was in court. Almost.

The first time you spoke directly to her outside of cross-examination, she knew she was in big trouble.

“You were brilliant in there, Ms. Cabot,” you said as you lingered in the corridor after the trial. Your voice was smooth, warm, and honeyed, like it held secrets meant just for her.

Alex adjusted her glasses, unsure why she suddenly felt flustered. “Thank you. It’s, uh, part of the job.”

You smiled, tilting your head. “Still, doesn’t make it any less impressive. I’m not sure if I should be more in awe of your legal mind or the fact that you kept your composure while Benson and Stabler’s suspect nearly imploded on the stand.”

Alex tried to suppress a smile, but you caught the faint quirk of her lips.

“You seem to have a knack for making people unravel,” she retorted, her tone teasing but professional.

You shrugged, stepping closer, just enough to close the gap while still respecting her space. “Maybe. But I’d much rather spend my time unraveling mysteries like you.”

Alex blinked, and for the first time in years, she felt her polished exterior crack just a little.

From then on, every interaction with you became a challenge for Alex to maintain her trademark poise. You had a way of slipping in compliments that weren’t overtly flirtatious but still left her heart skipping beats. You’d offer to grab her coffee during breaks or drop by her office with case updates that weren’t necessary, just excuses to see her.

Alex wasn’t used to being pursued so openly, and she certainly wasn’t used to the kind of unabashed affection you offered. Yet she couldn’t help but look forward to the way your eyes lingered a little too long on her or the way you’d always find something genuine to compliment her about.

One evening, after a long day in court, Alex found herself exiting the courthouse with you by her side. It had become somewhat of a ritual.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you said, turning to her. “Balancing the weight of justice, holding your head high, always staying ten steps ahead. It’s extraordinary.”

Alex stopped walking and turned to face you fully. “It’s not extraordinary,” she said softly, her usual confidence momentarily replaced by something raw. “It’s… exhausting.”

Your expression softened, and without hesitation, you reached out to gently touch her arm. “Then let me be the person to remind you just how incredible you are when you forget.”

Her breath hitched. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. People admired her, respected her, even feared her. But you looked at her like she was something precious. Like she was worth more than the cases she won or the sharp edges she projected.

“I’m not very good at… letting people in,” she admitted quietly.

“That’s okay,” you said, your voice as steady and warm as ever. “I’m good at sticking around. And I don’t mind earning your trust if that’s what it takes.”

Alex couldn’t help the small, genuine smile that broke across her face. It was rare for her, but with you, it felt easy.

Over time, you made good on your promise. You became her safe haven in a world full of chaos. Whether it was bringing her takeout during late nights in her office or sending her playful texts to make her laugh during grueling trials, your presence became something she craved.

And Alex? She found herself doing things she never thought she’d do. Leaving work early to meet you for dinner, letting you distract her with ridiculous stories when she was stressed, even falling asleep on your couch after watching an old movie she pretended not to enjoy.

It terrified her how easily you swept her off her feet. But it also thrilled her.

One night, as you stood on her apartment balcony overlooking the city, she joined you, a glass of wine in her hand. You turned to her with that soft smile that always managed to disarm her.

“You know,” you said, “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, amused. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Not at all,” you replied. “It’s just unexpected. You’re this powerhouse in court, but when you let your guard down? You’re gentle. Kind. Beautiful.”

She looked at you, her heart racing. “You make it sound like I’m some sort of romantic hero.”

You laughed, and the sound made her chest feel warm. “You are to me, Alex. You don’t have to believe it, but I’ll spend every day proving it to you if I have to.”

For the first time in years, Alex felt her walls crumble entirely. Setting her glass down, she took your hand in hers and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

“You already have,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions she felt.

And with you by her side, Alex realized she didn’t have to face the world alone anymore.

[archivofliv]

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷ » ℍ𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕔𝕚𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕣 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤 . . . ♡ˎˊ˗

contains hcs for characters and the world homicipher takes place

may contain spoilers for the game

a lot of character lore and world building (if you have different interpretations than me please let me know !!)

yes most of these are angsty asf i am SORRY okay

I'd like to make it clear that only the creator knows the truth of these characters and the world they're in, this is just my interpretation of it

» 𝚃𝙷𝙴 '𝙰𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙻𝙳' . . .

Most of the characters were originally human—except Mr. Scarletetta, who I believe created this entire world. He designed it as a trap and exists as an almost godlike glitch entity

The other characters went through the same thing as MC and fell into his trap, and the more monstrous they appear, the longer they've been trapped there

I believe Scarletetta—considering most characters and assuming my headcanon is correct—lures in individuals who are either deeply damaged or repressing their true selves to conform to society

Given that the story is set in Japan, where social norms emphasize politeness, humility, and cleanliness, these types of people would make ideal targets. Those who are damaged often have low self-worth, making them easier to manipulate, while those who suppress their true selves in such a structured society might be drawn to something raw and chaotic—like the decayed ruins surrounding the elevator and Mr. Scarletella’s striking red color scheme (as red represents violence and is psychologically an enticing color to the brain)

The characters were certainly in a better state when they first fell into the underworld. However, I headcanon that the longer someone remains there, it not only alters them physically but also affects them mentally, bringing out their most primal, repressed instincts and scrambling their memories

» 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 . . .

(Just Mr. Crawling and Scarletella because they're my favs and I have the most thoughts about them, but there are other characters in the next section !!)

Mr. Crawling:

Mr. Crawling is so unique because, at his core, he is genuinely a good person. Even as the underworld strips him down to his rawest instincts, thoughts, and emotions, his inherent goodness remains

However, he does kill—like when he takes the life of Mr. Stitch—showing that even he isn’t free from violence. But that brutality isn’t necessarily bloodlust or anything of the sort, but rather to protect MC out of the goodness in his heart

I believe Mr. Crawling descended into the other world more recently than some other characters— along with Mr. Hood, MC, and The Bride. While the other characters retain only a spark of their humanity, if you were to place him in a normal human body and remove his monstrous traits, he would still feel entirely human even as he is now

Mr. Crawling has very low self worth— he endures so much pain from MC: she nearly kills him, strikes him in the head with a crowbar, and dodges a flying chair, letting it hit him instead. And that’s not even counting the emotional pain she inflicts. She terrifies him, manipulates his emotions, and, despite everything he’s done for her, ultimately abandons him in multiple storylines. She makes him believe he is loved, only to leave him behind

Mr. Crawling protects MC and makes it his goal to get her home because he doesn't want her to transform into a monster the longer he stays down there

Mr. Scarletella:

Mr. Scarletella was never meant to be good—I don’t think there’s any reality where he is, even if he weren’t a glitch, a monster, or even if he were human

His nature is inherently selfish; he doesn’t truly care about the MC—he only wants her identity because he’s desperately grasping at anything he can

The reason Mr. Scarletella created the other world is the first place is because he just wants something to hold onto that even slightly resembles an identity and/or human connection but he doesn't understand those things so he does it all wrong

Mr. Scarletella is deeply lonely, as he never interacts with the other monsters (except for Mr. Crawling, but that’s not a positive interaction—Mr. Crawling just saves the MC from him)

In the Scarlet Rain ending, MC exploits Mr. Scarletella's obsession and isolation, making him her servant under the guise of giving him an identity—she names him

Mr. Scareletta, desperate for something to cling to, accepts it, misinterpreting it as love, because he doesn’t truly understand what love is—he just needs something to hold onto

(fine i'll give you a break from the angst, i guess, so have some random headcanons)

» 𝚂𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚈 & 𝙻𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝙳 . . .

Mr. Silvair gets his root touch up at the hairdresser and actually isn’t a natural platinum, he's a natural dirty blond

When Mr. Machete was human he used to bully kids on Roblox

Mr. Crawling loves when MC braids his hair or plays with it

Love Languages:

☆ Mr. Crawling- Physical touch and words of affirmation ☆ Mr. Scarletella- Quality time and words of affirmation ☆ Mr. Hood- Acts of service ☆ Mr. Machete- Acts of service ☆ Mr. Gap- Gift giving ☆ Mr. Silvair- Physical touch

Ms. Blue-Clad and The Bride were friends when they were human and shared a fashion Tumblr blog

Mr. Crawling would love taking bubble baths if they had bathtubs in the other world; he can stand for a short amount of time, but it's painful for him so showers don't work well for him

Mr. Hood is the oldest of all the characters and Mr. Chopped is the youngest (except for Hooded Child, of course)

ALL of the other characters know about the Mr. Crawling and Mr. Scarletella beef they all see it

Mr. Stitch finds it entertaining and Mr. Hood wants them to just shut the fuck up because he's sick of it (real)

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

i'll be adding more to this as i think of more headcanons, i just like rambling on about this game :)

[cloudshuffle]

the seelie court. yan!luocha

fae au

As it turns out, Faerieland is not as dangerous as you'd thought.

It’s more. Much more.

You cling to Luocha's fingers, shying away from bolder individuals who reach their clawed hands out to touch you. The fae are beautiful - beautiful and terrifying. The space shimmers with a myriad of cloth, of mud, of bare bodies, and the eyes that follow you are more often inhuman than not.

More than once, you catch sight of a tongue darting out to wet dry lips.

Your skin crawls. Luocha's walking much too fast for you to keep up, but tugging on him doesn’t seem like the thing to do.

Until your hand slips from his. And the crowd closes in.

There’s a heart-stopping, suffocating moment as the smell of mulch and wet grass envelops you, as fangs flash in toothy grins and the fae pinch at you like picking at wares in a market.

“Not very flashy, this one,” a goat-eyed man sneers.

“I think it’s pretty.” Another inhales deeply, something that could be a stick bug, with black bug eyes and gossamer-like pieces in place of ears. “And sweet.” He grabs your wrist.

There’s a screech and a sharp pain. The stick man is wrenched away, hanging by one gossamer wing, howling and struggling to get free.

The fae mutter and back away from his flailing limbs, lowering their eyes before Luocha - great and dark, the very shadows leaning toward him to emphasise the inhumane hollowness under his cheekbones and the cruel snarl on his lips.

"Move," he commands, and flicks the fae away from him, ripping wing from joint. Golden blood scatters out over the crowd, heads turning like vultures following prey.

Luocha takes your hand in his, distracting you from the sounds of carnage. "Come." His face has returned to the softness you're used to, eyes green enough to be otherworldly but not inhuman. He smiles gently. "Don't be afraid."

If you weren't afraid before, you certainly are now. But something about his grip implies that his words aren't up for debate; not to mention the wet, grisly sounds from behind you are rather deterring you from turning around.

The fae part like an ocean as you make the rest of your way to the foot of the dais. Luocha appears to float, almost, up the tangled root steps, while you cling to his fingers and stumble up, desperately trying not to fall.

"Be careful not to hurt yourself," he says, and you can hear the lilting tease in his voice, bordering on patronising. "Human blood is precious."

"I kind of have a lot of it." You chuckle nervously. Luocha maneuvers you into his lap, snapping his fingers. A fae brings to him a plate of glistening, golden fruit - fae fruit, soft enough to bruise upon the slightest wind but sweeter than the sweetest human candy.

He catches you looking. "Would you like some?"

"Um. No, thank you." You shift uncomfortably, unused to what must be a public display of affection. Yet from this vantage point, you can see much more carnal things going on in the revelry, and not a single eye batting at their shenanigans.

"Don't be afraid, pet." Luocha's voice is suddenly very close to your ear, lips brushing against your skin. "They won't hurt you as long as I'm around. Have a bite. I insist."

"I-" You shiver away from him, and you can hear his light chuckle. The fruit smells heavenly, like homemade pastries and crisp, ripe fruit all at once. Yet something stirs uncomfortably in your gut at the thought of biting into that. "It's... really okay." And for extra measure, you add, "I'm on a diet."

Luocha really laughs then like you've just made the funniest joke on the planet. The whole room flutters, and the fae laugh along with him, every eye trained on you.

He stops, and so does everyone else. The music and dancing resumes.

You want to go home.

"Humans are so amusing. I do enjoy your jokes, pet." He strokes the top of your head like he's soothing a little puppy.

You lower your eyes. And when you do, you see the distinct shape amongst the indistinct roots and brambles on the ground.

The shape of a casket. You gasp, lifting your feet up as if it can burn you.

[annabelle--cane]

I guess the thing that makes me not so fond of Jon's addiction allegory is that it's only coherent to a certain extent? Like I think people sometimes forget that he's actively violating these people

anon, through no fault of your own you have accidentally hit upon my sleeper agent trigger phrase. I have layers of answers to this.

so first off, yeah, it's not a 1:1 direct metaphor, it's a soupy dream logic fantasy plot device with flavors of a lot of different things. there's quite a lot of addiction in there, there's some abuse of power, there's some cyclical nature of trauma, there's a dash of disability, there's a few notes of gendered violence, there's a good bit of just. violence violence and being kind of a motherfucker because goddammit it feels good to be an active agent about something in your life, even if it's just choosing to be a worse version of yourself than you strictly need to be. a lot of tma's worldbuilding is very allegorical, but apart from aspects of individual statements nothing really matches up quite 1:1 with a real world counterpart, and if more things did then it probably wouldn't be a fantasy show anymore.

secondly. okay to contextualize this answer a little bit I have a kind of hypothetical video essay project about vampirism and addiction that I like to spend a few hours thinking about every so often but am almost certainly never going to make because the full research burden required is a lot higher than I actually have the time to properly do. but because of that I've spent a lot of time sorting through why framing vampires as addicts really works for me in a way that it doesn't seem to for everyone, and I think a lot of my thoughts on that also apply to jon. there's going to be a bit of a detour here before we get back to talking about tma, but we'll get there, I prommy.

I've seen a lot of people take issue with various paranormal addiction allegories because, a lot of the time, the act that is meant to metaphorically represent the act of use itself is something that is directly and inherently harmful to others, e.g. drinking human blood, handing over power to your hedonistic Evil alter ego, holding the cursed amulet and going crazy going stupid, slurping trauma out of the head of some guy you ran into on a boat to norway, etc., and yeah, I do get that. substance use is not inherently harmful like that to anyone except sometimes the user themself, and addicts are not inherently fucked up and destructive people; those are dangerous stereotypes that often lead to the demonizing of a whole group of sick people.

here's the thing for me, though: those are definitely truths I want explored and represented when it comes to portrayals of non-allegorical actual addicts, but fantasy fiction isn't for showing the world as it is, it's for showing a subjective fun house mirror version of reality where certain aspects are minimized and magnified depending on how it feels to live through it. and yes, absolutely in real life drug use is not an inherently evil act and it does not make you an inherently evil person, but... doesn't it kind of feel like that? sort of? absolutely no one is living their best life nor on their best behavior while experiencing any kind of major mental illness episode, and when it comes to addiction you've got a very clear tangible symbol of when The Episode is happening that it feels like you have much more control over than when it comes to other illnesses. it's also a thing where people are a lot more likely to be openly angry and distrustful of you if they find out it's happening. so you mix together the ideas of "I know I get worse as a result of doing this one specific thing" + "I act less like myself when I'm using, it rearranges my priorities and I care less about hurting people because that's what happens when you're experiencing The Horrors" + "society at large/people directly around me are pretty quick to say that doing this is evil," and you get the subjective emotional result of "I hurt people by using and it makes me monstrous." I tend to respond to those kinds of paranormal allegories like they're just cutting out the middle man of those subjective fears. "using makes me monstrous" -> "using is monstrous."

anyway. jon archivist.

don't get me wrong, I totally understand if this aspect of metaphor doesn't gel for some people and they only like taking it exactly as far as the text explicitly makes them, but I really get a lot out of reading jon's connection to the fears as addiction precisely because he does genuinely awful things to people as a result of it. he's a person in a very bad physical and mental place with little to no support who is constantly being told by both allies and enemies that he's already a monster just by being alive, and he copes with that by secretly falling further and further into an compulsive act of consumption that skews his priorities and makes him care less about hurting people because at least sometimes getting to be the cause of pain makes him feel a little bit less powerless when he has to be the subject of pain the rest of the time. then he's found out and is made to stop, and he has to grapple not just with the physical toll of withdrawal but with knowing there is a not insignificant part of him that will excuse any act of malice if he knows he'll feel better afterwards.

the end of tma is very explicit in the fact that the rules of its world are shaped by the subjective worst fears of those who live in it, it's "an exercise in unreliably reality" as jonny sims put it once, and I think that principle extends backwards in some ways to apply to the rest of the show. I don't think the fact that there are only entities of fear and not hope or love is meant to be a full commentary on the total nature of the real world, it's a reflection of what fear and suffering can make the world feel like. eric and melanie both go to really harsh extremes to extricate themselves from the fears and live peaceful lives, and in both cases something happens that foils their plans (getting murdered + the apocalypse, respectively), but I don't think the intended message is to say that is definitively how real life works, they are metaphors for the limits of individual agency in larger systems and represent two types of worst-case-scenarios. similarly, I don't think reading jon as an addict implies that addiction inherently involves violence or that the reactions of those around him were completely unjustified, it's just a subjective exploration of the kinds of fears that can come with addiction dialed up to 100.

[httpscomexe]

Runaway 2

Summary: He’s told to take care of you, and he’s entirely willing.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett x Hybrid!Reader

Warnings: Innocent reader, controlling Logan, manipulation of emotions, Wade Wilson and Logan Howlett, mentions of sex. (Individual warnings per chapter)

Tags: @shybluebirdninja @atomicheartbroken

Word Count: 4090 (Find all chapters here) CH3

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

“Wade would love her.” You’re hiding behind Logan. Your tail tucked between your legs, ears pinned down to your head. Honestly, you had every fucking right to be scared. Standing in front of Logan was a man, almost 8 foot tall, and he was built out of steel, his voice thick with a Russian accent. But he was wearing a tutu.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Logan asks, pulling a cigar out of the pocket on his flannel.

“We made the mistake of inviting Wade for a sleepover. This is the consequence.”

“He didn’t even let me take off my uniform.” Eloise walks by Colossus, a pink tutu around her waist, but she was still wearing her yellow suit. “Who’s that?” She nods her head towards you. You looked ridiculous. Hiding behind Logan, hands on his back, forehead leaning on him.

“This is the parasite I’ve been talking about.” He says, turning around, trying to ease you in front.

“She’s a hybrid?” Colossus asks, stepping forward, and you freak out, squeezing Logan from behind.

“Hey come on Bambi…” Logan groans, using the name he’s given you. “You’re okay… Piotr isn’t going to hurt you.” You loosen your grip on him slightly, and look at the large man from behind Logan.

“Hi little one. My name is Piotr.” He holds out his large hand, and you hesitantly move beside Logan, one of your hands still gripping his shirt, while your other hand meets Piotrs cold metal hand, and he shakes your hand gently, but you don’t tell him your name. You’ve settled on Bambi being your new one.

“I’m Eloise.” The girl tells you, but doesn’t shake your hand, instead only giving you a little wave.

“What the fuck?” You quickly scrambled back behind Logan. “And here I thought Negosonic teenage warhead was your first middle and last!” Another man comes into view, wearing a read suit with black eye patches.

“This is Wade, he won’t bite.” Piotr assures you.

“Not unless she asks.” His eyes land on you, and he removes his mask. “Hey there.” He comes a little close, but you feel Logan’s hand instinctively come in front of you, keeping you behind him. “My name is Wade. But with a face like that, you can me whatever you want. Wade, dipshit, fucker, motherfucker, Hal, Jesus, Ryan.” He stops talking, suddenly looking to his left before back at you. “Actually don’t call me Hal, that’s my biggest regret.” You ears twitches, and you tilt your head in confusion before looking up at Logan.

“You need to be tested.” He says.

“For what.”

“Everything.” Logan’s hand is still on you, keeping you behind him, but you’re more relaxed now.

“Well, Bambi is certainly welcome to join our tutu party.”

“Absolutely not.” You’re slightly disappointed. This Wade guy seemed funny.

“Jealous? You can come if you wear one.” He offers and you giggle at the thought of him wearing a pink tutu.

“We’re not coming.”

“Honey, do you let this honey badger make every decision for you?” You nod. “That was supposed to be a joke.” He adds, then turns back towards Logan. “It’ll be fun, we can actually get to know her instead of you hoarding her like she’s your belonging.”

“She is…” he pauses for a moment and looks down at you, “not my belonging. She’s a living being just like everyone here.”

“Then why can’t she hang out?” Eloise wonders, popping a piece of gum into her mouth.

“She said she’s tired. We were going to bed.” He tells them, wrapping his arm around you. “Right?” He looks down at you, and you nod.

“Well does she want a tutu?” Wade asks.

“Why don’t you ask her?” Logan questions.

“Oh sorry. I just thought you were her ultimate decision maker.” Wade reaches for an extra tutu sitting on the table. “Do you want one?” You nod, and he holds it out for you. Then he notices your ears, but doesn’t say anything. “Sleep well, Logan gets hot at night.” You giggle at his comments, and watch as the three walk away to continue their little party, you and Logan making your way back up to his room. The one he was letting you stay in.

He wasn’t lying of course. You were absolutely the most tired being on the planet. And it was because you couldn’t sleep. Logan tried everything to help you, but even when you did sleep, you squirmed and twisted like you were having nightmares. But you were simply uncomfortable. Eventually you both found you had better nights when you slept on the bed with him instead of alone on the couch. But only with his body against yours. So after some careful thinking, he realised it was because you couldn’t sleep in open places. You needed to feel cramped, like you were constantly being held. It made you feel safer when something was against you. Which led to Logan buying you a kennel.

Most nights it sat in the corner of his room. Thick white comforters and a big red heart pillow inside for the utmost comfort. It even had a nice white blanket over top to make it more comfortable, and little fairy lights on the inside in case it got dark.

“You sleeping in the cage tonight?”

“Are you leaving somewhere?” You were already crawling onto his bed. Dressed in you night shorts and a white tank top, a little hole cut in the shorts for your tail to peak out.

“No, I’m staying here tonight, leaving early though.” Your ears pin down a little as you hug one of his pillows, his scent clouding your senses as you lie there.

“When will you be back?”

“I won’t be back until late.” He tells you, sitting next to you on his bed. His fingers gently comb through your hair. “But you’ll be okay, just stay in here and study a little.” Study.

Years of being locked up of course had a toll on your education. You didn’t have a natural instinct for certain things like reproduction or affection. It took forever to get used to eating. So Xavier has you learning that sort of stuff instead of how to use your morph effectively.

“Okay…” You groan, rolling onto your back, his pillow under your chin.

“What’s wrong Bambi?” You groan and shove your face into the pillow.

“Can you braid my hair?”

“Of course, but you’ll have to get up.”

“I don’t wanna move…” You speak into the pillow, and sigh. He sighs in return.

“Alright, I’ll get some ties.” He tells you, and you feel the bed shift as his weight leaves the mattress, the bathroom door opening and closing before you feel his weight on the bed again, and his knees straddle your waist. “How many braids?”

“Just two.” You tell him, and you feel your hairbrush move through your hair, Logan gently pulling out any tangles as he strokes your hair with his fingers, careful not to touch your ears.

He’s learnt the hard way that your ears are sensitive. Just like a bird's wings are their most intimate part, your ears and tails were your most intimate part. It wasn’t that it turned you on, it was because they were sensitive. The slightest pull would hurt. But the smallest pet drove something into you. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. But whenever he scratched you behind your ear, or ruffled your tail to help you dry it after a shower, it felt like euphoria.

You were both quiet as he began tying your hair. Looping one strand over another until they were in long braids. “What are you gonna study while I’m gone?” He asks, trying to make conversation as he pulls the first braid together and ties it.

“I guess I’ll look at the health book.” He hums a nod, and his finger gently moves over the back of your neck as he grabs for one of the bundles of your hair, and your tags wags a little under him. One of your ears twitching slightly.

“Just remember to text me if you need anything. Or Jean.”

“Jean is mean to me.” He sighs. He didn’t believe you whenever you said she was mean. Constantly taunting you or bullying you for your ears and tail.

“Well then there’s Ororo when she isn’t busy. Last resort is Xavier.” You sigh, and his fingers continue looping through your hair. He’s careful not to catch your ear between any of them.

“Why is he last?”

“Because he’s always busy, he doesn’t have time for questions.” He takes another tie and wraps it around the end of your braid to keep it together. Then you feel his index finger behind your ear, gently scratching the same place he knows you love, but he’s careful not to touch your actual ear. A sort of purring noise comes from your throat. And he chuckles. “I think you got more of the animal-like part than the human part Bambi.” He tells you, leaning down to whisper it in your ear and you turn your head to face him. He was still straddling your waist, and his fists were now on each side of your head as he leaned down, both of you staring into eachothers eyes. “Still cute though.”

“I’m not cute…!” You groan. And he finds it adorable.

“You absolutely are.” He tells you, sitting back up but still straddling your waist, his fingers moving back to scratch behind your ear, and he feels your tail moving under him.

“Am not!” You shout, and try to sit up, but his hands move to your waist just in time, his legs now straddling yours to keep you still.

“You so are…” He whispers, keeping you in place as you look over your shoulder at him, your large ear hitting him in the face. “Rude.”

“You’re rude!” Your tail was wagging faster now, working against you to show your excitement to his teasing.

“Such a feisty cute little girl.”

“Stop!” You begin to shout just before his fingers begin moving over your waist and stomach, your hands trying to catch his as he tickles you. “Lo-” You giggle, tail wagging quickly as you try to pry his hands off of you.

“Admit it…” He tells you, fingers still quickly moving over your skin.

“No!”

“Say it!” He chuckles, pushing you back down to your stomach with his body, his hands never stop moving.

“Never!” You giggle, struggling under him as it becomes hard to breathe from laughing.

“Say you’re my feisty cute little girl…” He whispers in your ear, still tickling you.

Of course, you’re too innocent to understand what he’s asking you to say.

“Fine!” You shout, and he pauses so you can catch your breath. “I’m feisty and cute.”

“Nuh uh…”

“What?!”

“MY feisty cute little girl.”

“Hmph…” You slump a little, and the feeling of his fingers ghosting over your skin is enough to make you say it. “I’m your feisty cute little girl.” You say finally, and he’s satisfied, slowly getting up off you to sit next to you on the bed.

“Good girl.” Your tail begins wagging again, the smallest praise affecting you as you crawl next to him just in time for him to turn off his bedside lamp. “Are you ready to sleep, Bambi?” You nod, leaning your weight against his side. “Okay.” He groans as he moves, his hips bucking up slightly which causes the tilt of your head.

“Love you Lo.” You tell him as the both of you begin to settle under the blankets.

“Love you too Bambi, get some sleep tonight.” You lie under the covers, scrunched up against him as his arms hold you as close as you can get against him. One of his hands rests on your tail, gently stroking the fur as he holds you, making your own hips buck forward against his and he groans quietly before both of his hands wrap around you.

She’s too fucking young for you Logan. He tells himself.

“And don’t talk to Wade.”

You wake up early, the feeling of Logan's warmth missing from your side as you sit up, and he’s not there. The sound of students moving through the halls makes your ears perk up, and you hop out of bed, deciding to throw on a tiny black skirt and one of Logan's hoodies, the smell of him would be enough to get you through the day.

You reach into his fridge, taking out one of the bottles of starbucks coffee that he bought for you, then you tie on your sneakers before leaving the room, heading straight towards the library.

Once you get to the library, you find the same health book you’ve been reading through, hiding your drink from the librarian when your eyes find the ‘no food or drinks’ sign in the front of the large room, then you find your spot on a couch in your favourite corner.

Except someone was sitting on one of the couches. Normally, that wouldn’t bother you. But it was Wade. Dressed in his red suit with one leg over the other, a book with a unicorn wearing a tutu in his hands and he flips through the pages.

“Hi Wade.” You say shyly, and he looks up from his book.

“Oh, Bambi. Didn’t see you there. Lose your owner?” He asks, setting the book in his lap before straightening his posture.

“Very funny.” You chuckle, sitting on the other couch. “He’s busy.”

“What’re you reading?”

“Some weird health book. Xavier said I need to.”

“Like a book about sex or a book about how to wipe properly?”

“Sex?”

“Oh that’s why Logan likes you…” He says quietly, leaning forward to place his book on the table in front of the two of you.

“What do you mean?”

“I could give you a hands-on lesson. If you’d like.” You shake your head.

“Logan said I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

“But here we are. What’s he gonna do about it?” You think about it, trying to find an answer, but you aren’t exactly sure what Logan would do to either you or Wade. “How about we do something fun?” He asks, reaching up and pulling off his mask. “We could watch a movie, I can show you around town or maybe we could go shopping for new clothes for you?” He throws a bunch of ideas at you, hoping something would hit. “I have a pet dog?” He mentions, and the sound of your tail wagging slowly is enough for him to smile. “Wanna meet her?”

“Where is she?”

“She’s at my house, my maid is taking care of her.” He tells you, standing up and reaching his hand out to help you up as well.

“Okay… Let me just let Logan know-” He stops your hand from texting Logan.

“Or, hear me out. You do something without Logan watching you like you’re his meal.” You think about it. You know Logan won’t be happy that you aren’t listening to him. But you figure there was no harm in hanging out with Wade. He seemed fun.

“Okay, yea. I won’t text him.”

“Good, I’ll call my cab guy, let’s go wait up front.” He begins to pull you by the hand, dragging you to the front doors. “Hey Dopinder, come pick me up at the freak house.”

He opens the door to his little home, it smelt surprisingly good considering the mess of empty bottles, forgotten plates, and dirty laundry. On the couch was a woman, her hair looked like a cloud on her head and she was folding clean laundry, humming a song to herself as Wade stumbled in, you following behind him. Then he slams the door, fist pumping the air as your ears go down from the loud sounds.

“UH!” He pumps his fist excitedly, knee joining in the air. “Knew I could get you to do my laundry, I’m home by the way.” He walks past you, and your ears come back up.

“I could fucking tell.” She looks towards Wade, but not exactly.

“Hey, language, we have company.”

“Last time we had company, he went through every fucking measure to make sure you were dead. There was blood everywhere, and I swear to fucking-”

“This company is a girl, and she’s young, like 20.”

“18. “ You correct him, and he looks surprised.

“Well hi sweetie.” Her tone changes completely and she stands up, using furniture around her to stay standing. “I’m Althea.” She holds her hand out, and you take a few steps forward so you can take her hand and shake it.

“I’m Bambi.”

“Like the deer?”

“Yes?” You tilt your head, unsure of how she knows you’re a hybrid if she’s blind.”

“There’s no way that Wade made a normal friend.” She grumbles. “Do you have really long claws?”

“No.”

“Do you have blue skin?”

“No?”

“Mind control or 7 foot tall?” You giggle a little.

“No… I do not.”

“Well that’s a relief, but I’m still confused. How’d you meet?”

“Through Logan.” You and Wade speak at the same time, and you watch as Wade stuffs an entire cupcake into his mouth.

“Oh see now that makes sense.” She tells you, moving back to do the laundry on the couch.

“Wade said there’s a dog?” You step forward, eyes on Wade.

“Oh yea…” He hums as he takes another cake, and he calls the dog's name. “Dogpool? Mary? Little puppins? Where are you girl?” Suddenly, a little dog comes through an open door, and you move to stand next to Wade as he picks the dog up, showing her to you.

“Aww, she’s cute!” You tell him, putting your hands out so he would hand her to you.

“You can call her Mary. She’s got a licking problem.”

“I like the suit.” You tell him, looking at the dog's red suit that matched Wades almost perfectly.

“Thanks, I made it myself.” He pauses for a moment. “Or at least one of me did, but we don’t talk about him.” You exchange looks, Althea scoffing behind you. “How about a movie? I think I know one you’d like. The title is the same as your name.”

The movie named ‘The Lion King’ plays in the background of you and Wade baking cookies. He at some point changed when the movie Bambi had ended, so he was now dressed in sleeping pants, covered in little unicorn designs, his shirt earlier tossed off after you had accidentally dumped flour on it.

“Okay, does it taste any good?” Wade comes back into the kitchen, wiping his hands as he walks back up to you, picking up a cookie.

“I don’t know, you try it first.”

“No, you try it first.” He tells you, chuckling.

“No you.”

“How about we both try it at the same time?” He suggests, walking closer to you as he breaks the cookie in half, handing you the bigger side.

“Fine.” You’re about to take a bite out of your cookie, then his half is near your lips as he attempts to feed you, so you do the same with your half.

You both take a bite out of the cookie halves, and Wade's eyes roll as he chews his bite.

“Fuck that is amazing.” He says, a mouthful of chocolate in his mouth, then your phone buzzes in your pocket. “Who’s that?” He asks, and you pull your phone out, Logan's name on the screen, and you mentally prepare yourself before opening it.

You sigh a little as you read the last message. You should’ve known better than to disobey him, so now you’d have to deal with the arguing, and you’d have to hope he would forgive you.

“Everything okay?” You look back up from your phone to see Wade stuffing his third cookie down his throat.

“Hey!” You laugh. “Save one for Althea and one for Logan, Wade.” You tell him, grabbing three cookies and walking over to Al. “Here Al.” You hand her a cookie, and she blindly takes it.

“Thank you, hun.”

“Of course.”

“Logan isn’t gonna eat it, he hates sweets.” Wade tells you, trying to get you to hand him Logan's cookie, but you refuse.

“I’ll make him eat it.” You tell him, and open your phone when it buzzes again. “Logan is here, I’ll see you Wade! Bye, Al.” You tell them, blowing a kiss to Mary before walking out.

Logan is staring ahead, not bothering to look at you as you walk to the truck, crawling into the high passenger seat.

“Hey Lo!” You say excitedly, acting as if you weren’t in trouble.

“Hey.” He pulls out of park, and begins to drive.

It’s silent. And you don’t like it. He notices the way your ears fall down after a few minutes of driving, and he sighs heavily.

“I asked you not to talk to Wade. But you’re hanging out with him?” He asks, more of a clarification as he pulls up to a red light.

“I was bored…” You tell him, looking down in your lap at the cookie you brought for him, wrapped in a paper towel.

“What’s that?” He looks down at your lap and you unwrap it a little.

“A cookie… Wade taught me the recipe.” You say quietly, and Logan feels his heart break at your quietness.

“Is it any good?” He asks, pressing on the gas as the light turns green and the mansion comes into view. You nod, but he doesn’t see it and he sighs, assuming you’ve decided to ignore him.

“Want some?” You ask, and he shakes his head, making you look back down.

“Not in the car Bambi. I’ll try it in my room.” He tells you, and the ghost of a smile appears on your face as he parks where he normally does and turns off the truck.

“Will you teach me to drive?” You ask as pulls his keys out.

“Maybe. But let's focus on more important things first.” He tells you, stepping out of the truck and he watches as you get out on the other side, locking the truck before walking beside you, his hand quickly grabbing yours as he leads the way to his room.

Once you’re both inside, he takes off his flannel, draping it over his chair before he sits on the bed, sighing as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Logan?” You say his name quietly, the wrapped up cookie still in your hand as Logan sits on the bed, and you sit beside him.

“Yes?” He looks at you as you sit on your knees, not wanting to sit on your tail.

“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t answer you, only shaking his head in annoyance and sighing. After a few minutes of him not responding, you speak again. “Do you… Wanna try still?” You hold up the cookie, still warmly wrapped up in the paper towel. Your tail was tucked between your legs, barely hidden by your skirt, and your ears were down on your head.

He chuckles. “Sure.” A bright smile appears on your lips, and you open the paper towel, breaking off a small piece of the cookie and bringing it to his lips, tilting your head when he takes it with his teeth, awaiting an answer. Awaiting approval.

“Tastes amazing.” He tells you, chewing the piece of cookie you fed him.

“Wade's recipe…” You sing a little, breaking off another piece, only singing his name in hopes to encourage Logan to like Wade.

“Good thing he taught it to you then, right? Won’t have to see him again.” He tells you, his eyes staring into yours and you sigh.

“He’s fun…”

“He’s annoying.”

“Why do you hate him?”

“I don’t hate him. He’s just a bad influence for you.” You sigh again, looking away from him in annoyance. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t sigh and give me the attitude.” There’s a growl in his voice as he speaks to you, and his comes up to cup your face.

“I’m sorry Logan…” You apologise. Again.

“It’s okay, Bambi.” He tells you, turning on the bed so his entire body was facing you. “Just don’t do it again.” His fingers brush some loose hair from your braids behind your ears.

“I won’t.”

“Good.” He tells you. “Now let's get these braids out, and I’ll brush your hair before bed…”