#it's still a good thing to be on. like being mindful of justice. it's just that trying to be good comes with all kinds of pitfalls n snags

[aestariiwilderness]

Congrats, Pro-Pals! You've become the very Nazism you swore you'd destroy. You've become the rape apologists you said you hated ("they were asking for it!" "she was asking for it!"). Maybe...you always were. Maybe you just weren't brave enough to say it out loud until it became the shiniest, newest social justice/victimhood narrative around. Till you could use it to allow yourselves to soar high on a warm wave of artificial righteousness and superiority. Never mind inconvenient things like truth, facts, history, and a conflict you had never heard about before and still (you admit!) don't know anything about. Never mind all the harm you've caused or given people license or encouragement to cause to innocents. Never mind all the racism, the blood libel, the lines crossed, the slander and the hurt and the rapes and the deaths you've directly and indirectly urged, the cruelties you've been quiet about perpetrated by your "team" (Hamas, Hezbollah, Iran) on the people you claim to speak for. Never mind all that! The important thing is, you felt good doing it. You felt like you were in the cool kids group for once. You felt like you were powerful, and could hit back (never mind that they hadn't hit you -- never mind that there were children crying and running away from you -- they were ISRAELI children, and so that meant it was fine because everybody knows all Israelis are evil pigs!), and morally superior, and better than those other people who stood by Israel. You felt like you didn't need to look into it for yourself. You felt like you knew everything you needed to know already. And that was all that mattered to you. You, yourself, and how you felt. Now I know how the Holocaust happened. Some examples. TW for every evil thing under the sun and no accountability.

https://www.tumblr.com/matan4il/766588985892028416?source=share (sources included) – notable is the Israeli government’s effort to accommodate all its citizens, including Arabic ones 

https://www.tumblr.com/girlactionfigure/766718979409625088/hen-mazzig?source=share (90-year-old Holocaust survivor Lucy Lipiner) 

https://x.com/EYakoby/status/1855339128574902420 (Breaking: New video shows a man in his car searching for Jews in Amsterdam. He says in Dutch that he’s going on a “jodenjacht” (Jew hunt) and then begins cursing the Jews in Arabic. The media is not reporting what truly happened in Amsterdam.)  https://x.com/VividProwess/status/1855657497392288242  https://x.com/koshercockney/status/1854967677665661159

https://x.com/Mid7East/status/1854748541781934558  https://x.com/Ostrov_A/status/1856315158655549885

https://nypost.com/2024/06/19/world-news/french-teens-arrested-for-rape-antisemitic-attack-of-12-year-old-jewish-girl/

https://t.me/beholdisraelchannel/44163 Aaron from London helped an Israeli man who was being beaten up by the Amsterdam mob. He got punched. One of them said: “He’s British, leave him alone.”

Another: “Yes, but he helped a Jew.” It’s. Not. About. “Palestine”. 

It’s not about Gaza. It’s not about Zionism. It never has been. It’s about wanting any excuse to hate and kill Jews. 

Welcome back to 1938. It never really left. https://x.com/VividProwess/status/1855399977209499824 (A Gazan man in Gaza, celebrating Jews being hunted down in Amsterdam: "They stomped on their heads like cockroaches. The Moroccans stomped on 7 cockroaches' heads in Amsterdam. Free Palestine." Those are the "innocent" Palestinians in Gaza.)

https://www.tumblr.com/the-ind1gen0us-jude4n/757376849953406977?source=share (“pro-palestinian” protestors do Nazi salute during the Israeli National Anthem at Paris Olympics,  chant “heil hitler” during Israel’s soccer game) https://nypost.com/2024/06/23/us-news/nyc-jewish-family-pummeled-at-5th-grade-commencement-by-attendees-shouting-free-palestine-mom-says/

https://t.me/beholdisraelchannel/33878 (donkeys burned with Israeli flag)https://t.me/beholdisraelchannel/33841 (donkey with Israeli flag spraypainted on it tortured/burned??? oh, 2 donkeys. what the hell)

https://www.tumblr.com/mossadspypigeon/763123890930286592?source=share non exhaustive list, also I believe misses the baby girl shot to death in her mother’s arms on Oct. 7th) 

See (Majdal Shams, 12 children)https://www.foxnews.com/world/stories-torture-torment-revealed-israeli-children-kidnapped-hamas-terrorists

https://www.state.gov/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/GEC-Special-Report-More-than-a-Century-of-Antisemitism.pdf https://www.telegraph.co.uk/politics/2024/09/15/israel-blamed-oct-7-attacks-lib-dem-conference/

https://www.tumblr.com/tikkunolamresistance/761242619802255360?source=share (Documentation/photos of people/Palestinians/Pro-Palestinian “movement” openly and gleefully celebrating October 7th as it was happening) 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palestinian_Authority_Martyrs_Fund (Pay to Slay [Jews]) 

https://www.algemeiner.com/2024/08/28/palestinian-authority-admits-payments-to-terrorists-have-cost-it-billions-of-dollars-in-just-five-years-alone/ https://www.breitbart.com/politics/2024/07/24/anti-israel-protesters-release-maggots-mealworms-in-benjamin-netanyahus-hotel/ https://www.tabletmag.com/sections/news/articles/rape-jews-antisemitism https://unwatch.org/report-red-cross-statements-overwhelmingly-biased-against-israel/  (Red Cross falsely accused Israel of hospital attack)

"A major attack on an ethnic group was justified because they were asking for it, even if the attack was evidently pre-planned for weeks before and included running over and stabbing random bypassers from that ethnic group who couldn't possibly be identified as the same people who were asking for it weeks after it was already planned."

are these people even hearing the words that come out of their own mouths.

[suzukiblu]

Day ten of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. tw: implications of past grooming/abuse and the inherent problems that causes for someone who was in that situation and hasn’t processed it trying to have a relationship with someone actually age-appropriate. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I mean–it’s nice,” Kon says, smiling just as helplessly into his collar and keeping his eyes on the sidewalk as they walk. “Just, you know, it’s not the kinda stuff you usually get me. Like–it’s just, you know–pretty, or whatever. It’s not for anything. Like, I can’t wear it for you and it’s not, you know, food or a game or anything.” 

Tim did not actually realize that he hadn't bought Kon anything that didn't count as “useful” yet, though given the video games and candy and jewelry he's pretty sure they just have different definitions of what “useful” actually is. Also he needs to take a moment to not burn alive over Kon saying the phrase “wear it for you” again, which definitely takes the full moment, because Jesus Christ. 

That has not gotten any less affecting, yeah. 

“Oh, I guess,” he says in his best imitation of a normal person's normal voice. “I didn't really think about that. I just thought you might like it, so I got it for you.” 

Kon somehow finds a new shade of red to turn that honestly might actually be a Kryptonian-related one, considering the intensity of it. It is, unfortunately, cute as fuck. 

“I mean, I do like buying you clothes and stuff, obviously. You look really nice in that outfit, for one,” Tim says, and Kon glances away again, still smiling helplessly and still just as red-faced. He really does blush so easy. It’s weird, Tim thinks, given how much flirting he does. But maybe Kon’s just the “can dish it out but can’t take it” type, he guesses. 

Alternately, maybe people just aren’t complimenting him as often as he deserves and he's not used to hearing it. 

. . . Tim makes a mental note to pencil in some affirmations in Young Justice’s next training session and also to buy Kon even more flowers than he was already planning to. Flowers that come with little hand-written cards that say nice things about him, specifically. 

“You better think I look nice in it, pretty boy,” Kon says, biting his lip around another grin. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted me all fancied up.” 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I liked the crop top too,” Tim allows, and Kon bursts into laughter and then lets go of his jacket collar and just–beams at him, actually. Just–literally actually beams, brighter than anything in Gotham that doesn’t run on electricity. 

Tim manages not to step off the sidewalk into traffic by Robin-reflexes alone and literally nothing else. 

Jesus, that expression. 

“I like, uh–that,” Kon says, and then blushes a little darker again. “Um–I mean, I like that you, uh . . . like to get me stuff you think I look good in. Uh. I don’t know how to say this without it sounding weird, fuck, just–just I like it.” 

“Oh,” Tim says. The warehouse district in his brain is a lost cause; the fire has officially spread to the docks and across downtown. His mental Gotham is going the way of 1871 Chicago, he’s pretty sure. “Uh–um, good. I’m glad.” 

“It’s just, um–I dunno, it’s just nice to look nice for somebody,” Kon murmurs a little bit shyly, tugging his jacket collar up over his mouth again but still obviously smiling behind it. Tim isn’t sure if that’s a line of thought he should be concerned by after the kind of things Kon was saying earlier, if–“Instead of, you know. For everybody.” 

. . . Tim decides that actually, never mind the concern. Kon can look as good for him as he wants to, if what Kon’s used to is being stuck having to look good for some stupid ad campaign or magazine shoot or what the frick ever. And like–it’s not like he has a problem with Kon wanting to wear things he thinks he’ll like. That is pretty much the opposite of a problem for him, in fact. 

It probably explains the makeup, too. There were definitely not any ad campaigns with glitter eyeliner or nail polish involved. 

. . . not that Tim’s seen all the ad campaigns or anything, just–

Alright, fine, he’s seen all the ad campaigns. That’s just Bat SOP, alright? And definitely only Bat SOP.

[kiyo-cant-write]

Welp, I'm kinda back to request the guy again(y'know the RSA Silver anon). Tho you can call me as 🎵 anon. Thanks tho.

So I kinda have some little new idea pop in my head, I got the idea when I read some old scenarios. About Silver and Sebek, having a crush on Yuu. Then tries to fight over Yuu's attention. Just imagine they fight over Yuu and Yuu accidentally getting squish between their chest I mean check their PE uniform card, while they get too busy having a staring competition to notice Yuu got squish. Yuu intensely blushing, probably almost fainting

I hope you don't mind this.

silver and sebek fighting "over" yuu/reader ✧･ﾟ

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Name change initiated, tags updated.

Hello! I don't mind this! I like Silver and the rest of Diasomnia (though my personal bias is Malleus xD) And I hope I interpreted your idea well! My sincere apologies for taking a longer time to get this out, my health is not doing well at the moment.

Note to anyone looking to request that I currently have a very big request for all the first years in the works and it is taking me some time to complete. That said, requests will be slow to go out but are open, actually.

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Summary: [Name] is swept up in an argument between Silver and Sebek Zigvolt during flight class. Were they always this built?

TW/CW: None

Notes: pre-relationship, the reader is described as smaller than Sebek/Silver, the reader is the Ramshackle Prefect/Yuu, they/them pronouns for the reader

Guest Stars: Grim, Malleus Draconia (mentioned)

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Silver & Sebek Zigvolt

Silver did not plan to be in the argument in the first place.

He isn't a very confrontational personality to begin with.

That, and his father raised him better (or he says that).

And meanwhile, Sebek is just Sebek-ing, that's how it starts.

The argument doesn't begin with Malleus but it's sure about Malleus now and Silver kind of wants to punch Sebek.

Sebek throws the first punch and Silver is defending himself.

The two of them are airheads sometimes and forget they're in a joint class and there are people everywhere.

[Name] is smaller than the two of them and ends up caught between them but neither of them cares to notice.

[Full Name] you are about to experience being smooshed between two guys who have trained as guards since childhood.

Sebek is still more or less yelling.

Silver effectively politely conveys "Shut the fuck up."

[Name] and the other students are BAFFLED.

It seemed that it would be a while before this is resolved...

Silver is the one to point out this is a ... position.

Sebek gets offended that Silver is protecting [Name].

But why? WHAT IS THIS HUMAN DOING TO HIM?

Silver chooses to repress his feelings.

Trauma responses or something (Book 7 did things to me)

Then [Name] fainted and both boys began to p a n i c !!

"This is all your fault, Silver!"

"Sebek, be quiet."

Silver's expression might have seemed neutral to anyone in Vargas' PE class who was watching but Sebek recognized this type of expression from his childhood. Silver was glaring daggers at him from his group's area.

But! This was a fight and Sebek would win (for Malleus).

"HOW DARE YOU INSULT WAKA-SAMA?!??" Sebek roared, ignoring the class around him as all of his senses focused on that cat.

It would be good to note that while it was a "fight." it was a fight that Silver did not want to be in. How had it even begun? Silver wasn't sure. He was trying to talk to one of his classmates about something and then Sebek started yelling (really, who decided to let joint classes be with the first years?) and soon after, this had started.

"NYA! WHAT DID YOU SAY EYEBROWS?" Grim fired back at Sebek.

Raised by General Lilia Vanrouge, Silver has some quirks that others are quick to point out. He grew up in Briar Valley, after all. His "human skills" leave much to be desired. Still, Lilia instilled a sense of justice in Silver, and the knowledge that you should not say nasty things about others if they are your friends.

Silver sighed. This was why he decided to keep his thoughts on today's PE incident to himself. It would be better for everyone that way. But his emotions, the ones he tried to ignore, made things harder for him sometimes.

[Name] is being a bit daft, though. Why did they get involved?

As Sebek yelled at Grim, the cat jumped into his human half's arms and caused Sebek to, as he was trying to grab Grim, get much too close to the Prefect (for safety and for Silver to accept).

He sighed again as he took several steps over to the trio and attempted to intimidate Sebek away from [Name].

"Sebek, cease this at once. This is unbecoming," Silver told him, standing just behind the Prefect and staring Sebek down.

"Silver, stay out of this!" Sebek hissed at him, not realizing how close he was to the Prefect, "I need to finish this."

"Malleus-sama would not approve..." Silver continued slowly.

He took a step closer.

"I am doing this for his honor, that cat insulted him!!"

Sebek pushed closer and Silver couldn't mask his irritation. Sebek would not listen to Silver and the light-haired man knew this.

"Even if he did, you're much too close to [Name]," the second-year added.

As each boy moved closer, they had [Name] cornered.

"Are you insinuating that you have some kind of claim over this human?" Sebek asked, nearly scoffing as if insulted by the concept.

"No, I am saying you're too close to them. Be polite."

"Silver, you speak and act so boldly for someone taken in off the streets," Sebek told him, bringing up a longstanding issue between them.

He had to ignore this. It wasn't supposed to be something shared with others, that he was taken in by Lilia, that Lilia was his father.

"This isn't about that. You're being rude."

Silver had never wanted to punch Sebek more than he did at this moment.

Smushed between the two guards, [Name] held Grim close to their chest. They could spell the faint scent of flowers from Silver whereas Sebek smelled like tea. They were able to see now, up close and personally, that Malleus' guards were strong, built young men, not as lean as some of the other students at Night Raven.

A few moments passed as Silver and Sebek attempted to stare each other down, other students beginning to watch the interaction, waiting for a fight to break out. It was a miracle that Vargas did not notice the commotion but he was busy telling some poor student about his great and important very heroic deeds.

"... Grim, I think I am going to die," [Name] whispered to the cat.

Startled, Grim looked up at them with such a sudden motion he jostled their spot between Silver and Sebek slightly.

"Nya?? Don't die, [Name]!!"

But the Prefect could not hear them anymore, they were dead to the world for the foreseeable future. With a bright red face, they looked somewhere between embarrassed and feverish.

"Oh no. [Name], are you okay?"

Silver moved away from Sebek as the green-haired boy did the same. Sebek noticed the state of the Ramshackle Prefect instantly.

"AAH! THE HUMAN NEEDS MEDICAL ATTENTION!!" Sebek shouted

For a moment, Silver wished that Sebek had a volume button he could (politely) turn down. It would save everyone a lot of grief.

All of this attracted the attention of Vargas who shipped around and sprinted over to them, forgetting his discussion of heroism with that poor, poor unsuspecting student.

"Don't yell," Silver told Sebek as he noticed Vargas speeding in their direction, his voice sounding like a whisper in comparison to Sebek's yells.

"HAH? This is all your fault, Silver!"

"Sebek. I said... Quiet down."

Today would be a long day for everyone...

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Imagine the rest for yourself~

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[martyrbat]

habeas corpus – detective comics #1086

(ID in alt!)

[austenpoppy]

I would disagree sliiiightly. I think this analysis is correct in that whenever Dick feels more responsible and/or guilty (the two lines are sometimes blurred, like it was when he first met Linda Park), which is always the case when he's the leader of a team, he will tend to act more serious, to be more focused, to be more intense, while taking the weight of the world on his shoulders. It can impact the view people have of him.

In fact, it is the very strain of that burden that got him to tell Bruce, in their conversation during the Quake, that he couldn't see himself leading people anymore (that didn't last long, but this conversation is significant nonetheless) like Bruce did, that not doing it anymore was a reflief because being a leader was too stressful.

But even then, Dick being more serious than he is with Bruce doesn't mean he spends his time brooding and scolding at people who don't take the job seriously. In fact, I would say it's a common misconception to say that Dick often berates people (namely Gar) who don't do their job seriously enough. In NTT, Dick would often tell Gar to can the jokes at a critical moment, but it wasn't because he thought Gar wasn't doing his job seriously - it was about Dick unable to hear people joking around when he was too worried/they had to focus because if they didn't it would be the end of their lives or the end of the world. It's not a "I will take you by the scruff to tell you to take this more seriously or to quit" kind of attitude. People often refer to "Titans #19" to underline the idea that Dick can be like that, but this moment was more about Dick being defensive and lashing out because of a perceived failure than anything else (something Dick is prone to do).

The truth is that Dick's natural instinct is to be outgoing, optimistic and to joke around. Even right when he met Kory and had to deal with multiple responsabilities (including being the leader of the Titans) he still was not a straight-faced, overly serious person. How do I know that - apart from multiple moments showing Dick joking around and smiling, even in battle ? When he started acting weirdly (after the Church of Blood's mind-control started to kick-in and he was dealing with multiple personal issues), Kory ended up comparing the man she'd met, who she described as "warm, caring and fun" with the way he was behaving.

Just look at that one time he led the Justice League as Nightwing (it starts around JLA #70 or #71, if my memory serves me right) during an absolutety terrible time : most of the Leaguers had disappeared, and there were serious, world-threatening crises to take care of. He was clearly taking things seriously (started the gig by telling everyone to put their problems aside), and was pretty insecure about his abilities, plus was very worried about where the Leaguers could be, and even then he could make jokes (told Ollie "Got you to shut up for five minutes, didn't I ?" after Olliver cursed him for having rethoric skills), got into battle smiling after a talk with Faith, and he told Kyle he would hug him if he wasn't so freaked out after Kyle's "ghost" proved who he was by saying "Young man on the flying trapeze"..

Dick does take things seriously because he caresTM, but Dick becoming very serious/very intense/borderline obsessive is never a good sign. It either means there's an incredibly big threat coming up/people have been hurt, or Dick's getting into his own head and feeling burned out/guilty/like a failure. And both can be true at once. Linda seeing Dick as "the most intense guy she's ever met" was after the Wildebeest society fiasco, after Mirage, after the failed marriage, after getting demoted as leader of the Titans, and he was on top of that blaming himself for yet something else.

Don't think Dick is "only" fun when he's with Batman, that he is "in reality" very serious. No, Dick is a fun and warm person who takes things seriously because he caresTM and has a tendency toward self-blame, but him acting serious all the time and getting really intense is a sign that something's dreadfully wrong.

One of the things I love about Nightwing is that: "yes he is the funny and nice one".... When compared to batman. By normal standard, he is pretty serious actually.

Also I like the changes of personas when he is with different groups ? Like he takes on the role of the light to Batman's darkness, the lighter one when he is with Batman and later on the Batfam.

When he is with the Titans, he is the leader and the planner and he feels responsible for the team so he is more serious.

And when he is by himself the fun part is to get to a balance in both personas ?

But regardless of the people he is with, his hyper competence and the way he has to bring people in and get people to trust him is kinda always there, and I love him.

[teafiend]

[primoresplendens]

Shouldn't be a hot take, but it is somehow: the moment veganism starts becoming an eating disorder is when it starts to take on the form of a purity law. It's when you start thinking in terms of "clean" and "contamination" where everything, including from veganism to social justice, starts to fall apart. The knowledge and acknowledgment that you, a human, is part of an ecosystem no matter what you do, and that you cannot possibly go through life killing nothing, IS an insight that is entirely compatible with a vegan lifestyle, and a one that today's humans in general could use.

[woovalin]

i’m in such disbelief right now and beyond disgusted.

i really hope y’all are choosing your morals over kpop; because we do not know these men at all. i will never side with or defend a predator and a criminal, even with little to no proof. even if there is the smallest chance he may be innocent, i will always believe the victim first.

some of you, as fans of the boys for years and him in general, i know you must be feeling disappointed and betrayed. you’re not dumb for previously supporting him, as we couldn’t have possibly known. but now is the time for a reality check and it’s time to wake up and take a step back. this just goes to show that we know absolutely nothing about them.

for sm to just outright put out a statement on their own before any rumors even surfaced and immediately kick him out? this has to be insanely serious and i’m terrified of what he could’ve done. the crazy thing is with everything currently happening in korea with the telegram situation, and korean women constantly being in danger in general because of the men there, i’m not at all surprised that celebrities are being exposed. sm has protected criminals before, and held onto lucas when his scandal came out as well as other artists who have been exposed for similar crimes. i can’t even imagine the severity of the current situation. we’ve seen what happened with the burning sun, and these men are not immune to being misogynistic, vile human beings.

members have already unfollowed him and deleted posts with him in them; his best friend of 17yrs has unfollowed him. the company taking the initiative and him getting kicked out of the group in less than a second before anything even came out, no denying the claims or even trying to defend him. that should be enough to tell you and understand how serious this actually is. i am beyond disgusted with him and this whole situation.

i sincerely hope the victim is doing okay and praying for them to heal and get the justice they deserve. and remember that your love for these celebrities should always be conditional, because we do not know them. it’s their job to put on a show and show you their public persona, but behind closed doors? we don’t know what they’re actually like. we put them on a pedestal and yet we don’t know what they’re really capable of. they are still men after all. i hope the police are taking this seriously. there needs to be consequences and these women need to be protected.

let this be a lesson to all of us. they don’t know us, and we don’t know them, not really, not at all.

ALWAYS choose morals over these strangers you idolize. and as women, we should be standing with the victims.

maybe not all men, but enough of them. and maybe not all men, but somehow always a man. and going forward, i will continue to support nct as a whole with the remaining members. however, keeping the situation in mind, i will be supporting from afar for a little while. if the situation escalates and other members are investigated and new information comes to light about the rest of them either knowing or possibly being involved, it would be best to step away for good. i will do my best to stay updated. but i do hope the rest of the members are doing okay, and hopefully no other members were involved; but this, just shows that they can always surprise us. you never think it’ll be your fave, until it is.

let’s hope this causes a domino effect and more of these people are exposed and charged for the crimes they’re committing.

sending love to anyone who has ever experienced sexual violence or has been targeted and been in a similar situation. it is not your fault and it never was!

love you all and my dms are always open if you need to vent. <3

❗️EDIT: also i wanna add that we need to not praise the rest of the members or any other celebrity for simply unfollowing him on social media. that is the least of anyone’s worries.

we don’t know if they were aware, we don’t know if they knew and were protecting him or turning a blind eye. it could be them trying to save themselves and clear their guilty conscience. maybe they didn’t know and are just as shocked as we are, we don’t know that either.

we blindly trust these people and believe they have good intentions but look at where that can lead to. fans being upset is valid, yes; but remember people with money and power will do whatever it takes to sweep things under the rug and make it go away in order to save face and keep their image and reputation.

follow-up post here.

[ofseptarsis]

'These violent delights...'

The quote seems oddly adequate for a moment like this, even if violence is rarely as poetic as The Bard would have one believe.

There is no clear-cut reason behind what goes on, there is no overarching lesson: there is just repetition.

She is right.

The realization makes Tófi's eyes widen in surprise they can't hide, not when they are already way too busy trying to control the rest of their facial movements, when they still refuse to let pain show even if a side of their face has been severely damaged by fire and energy -epidermis burnt down to a crisp, pieces of it hanging futilely hanging by the side while a pitiful mix of damaged faux vessels, fibers and magic (barely) cover their actual gray, scaly skin.

It hurts, but they won't let it show.

(They might be a pseudo-immortal but they are not immune to pain, for that is a thing that never changes, unlike them.

Pain is always a raw, uncomfortable, invasive feeling, no matter how much one tries to get accustomed to it, no matter how much one exposes themselves to it, no matter how old one grows up to be.)

The only thing they can do about it is grit their teeth and try and power through it, focus on more important things than the way their nerves scream, the way the heat of blood dripping on their shoulder becomes indistinguishable from the heat of the blade.

She is right.

To say that it had been a one-sided thing is to lie; They were guilty of the very same thing they condemned her for.

Those weren't exactly news, no, but it's just now that the implications of it hits them: they can almost hear Seth's voice admonishing them for their stupid sentimentality, for their lies, half-truths and shameful realities.

'I regret nothing' they claim, only to be faced with-

'What about leaving me?'

Something in both of them shifts: her voice and the feeling in their chest, the harshness of her gaze and the intensity of their almost manic smile.

Do they regret it?

Things could have been different, had they not decided to act when they did, that is a fact-

-but they also know too much to allow themselves to dream of a perfect ending to the conflict; Batwing's and Comitessa's deaths had always been inevitable, would have happened sooner or later: the only choice anyone had had been between having those two be killed by them or by Seth.

But here's the thing: Seth wouldn't have stopped with just them (for satisfaction was not a part of his nature) he would have continued, created an absolute carnage and burned the Estate to the ground before moving on to civilians, to those that had shared the departed's ideals, to those whose nature was too weak, too pathetic to deserve to live in stolen land.

No. They did not regret it.

It had only been logical, it had been for the best, regardless of what Menodora and the Magic High Commission thought.

They did not know Seth as well as Tófi did.

'What about sacrificing your reputation for my sake?' she continues with voice hardened.

She goes on about glory on the battlefield, about victory, but Tófi's mind drifts somewhere else: to a private studio, to colossal rooms full of books on absolutely everything, to spacious patios and beautifully illuminated halls, to innocent smiles and laughter, to childish mischievousness and hope.

All of it had been gone in the blink of an eye, sacrificed for the cause.

Centuries of being a scholar, an advisor, of a comfortable life, gone.

They'd never be able go back to that life of simplicity, just like now, amongst the flames, they would never be able to go back to the same unconventional friendship they'd built over the last year.

That they did regret.

They'd never admit it, though, for admitting it would make it all real.

It had all been for the cause: everything they'd lost had been discarded for the greater good, in the name of blood-stained justice, so it had not been worthless.

It couldn't have been all for nothing.

And this- this was all for her: to make her stronger, to make her cling to life, to make her fight back.

The losses they'd have to incur would be worth it.

They had to.

The dagger at their throat fades into thin air, leaving behind only a brief flash of blue light, and then Moon's darkened hand, surprisingly, rests against their chest.

She doesn't seem aware of just how much they'd bet on her, how much hope they'd placed on her and how furiously they've refused to let go, even when she was at her lowest and not much has come of it all, when she's fallen victim to the same things that her ancestors had and has turned her back on those who needed her the most.

And they weren't just thinking of the Monsters, no.

There was a kid, somewhere, that desperately needed her mother's love and guidance.

Ah, mortals were so terribly short-sighted...

'Aren't you at least a little concerned what a grief-stricken woman like myself could do to you now?'

Tófi can't help but chuckle as they shake their head 'no'.

"What are you going to do, claw my eye out?" they ask, in strangely good spirits -that inside joke is somewhat soothing (or maybe it's her hand placement, who knows)

"It would grow back" they continue, moving their hand to meet hers and give her a brief pat "it will all grow back"

The damaged bone, the skin, the nerves, the fondness.

"You could try and kill me right here and now, but that would make for terrible PR" an amusing thought, that "the fire damage is bad but could easily be explained as an accident, badly maiming someone, on the other hand..."

Gossip could be fatal for them both.

"Har du det bedre nu, min måne?"

@menodoramoon

genfødte sandheder || Tófi & Moon

[gay-dorito-dust]

I have been binging your work!

I don't know if this breaks your trauma rule or not, but (with the guys of your choosing as long as Ratio is there) how would the guys react to losing reader (they haven't confessed feelings yet) during a mission and thinking they died. Then, the reader reappears a week later bandaged up, but alive. Maybe spouts their confession first? ˘͈ᵕ˘͈

I adore your writing. Thank you!

This is way too fucking long, so be warned. It’s like I rammed 4 mini stories in one but got lost at some point cuz I left this ask to collect dust. Also thanks for enjoying my writing it’s much appreciated. :) 🦦🐿️

Sunday:

The moment he got news that you’ve been assumed dead in the aftermath of a dangerous mission, he looses composure really quickly.

Loosing Robin was one thing but loosing you on top of that was the straw that broke the camels back.

He originally doesn’t believe that you were gone, he refuses to as he practically tears his office to shreds in a fit of anger and grief before forcing himself to regain composure and clean up after his outburst. He needed to in order to keep up the illusion that he was the levelheaded leader The Family needed in these moments of chaos and mistrust.

Even if he himself was breaking down internally alongside everyone else, hellbent on finding the culprit for your death and punishing them so severely that they’d beg for death. He’d avenge you in anyway he could, even if it meant sending out the bloodhound family on a wild goose chase that only ends in dead ends, he would get you justice no matter how it may come.

His heart had died alongside you that day.

So when a week passes and he finally has you back in his arms, all the while being carful with your wounds as his eyes searched you over in a way you weren’t use to.

‘You’re alive.’ He breathes out in relief as he then begins to laugh and rest his head against yours, breathing you in deeply as he relishes in this long awaited moment. ‘Of course you’re alive.’ He mutters.

‘Sunday,’ you began but Sunday was quite to cut you off.

‘Do you know how I felt thinking you were dead? Driving myself insane to prove that you were still alive anyway I could as not to bear the idea of walking through this life without the one person I love so dearly.’ Sunday takes a brief pauses in his monologue, feeling out of breath after having put everything out into the open before continuing. ‘I thought my heart had stopped beating that day and now I have you bad in my arms.’ Sunday then chuckles darkly as he gripped you tighter. ‘I’ll ensure that I’d never have to revisit that part of my life ever again.’

‘Sunday-‘

‘Shhh.’ Sunday cuts you off once more, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he holds you close to his chest, rubbing your back soothingly. ‘Just know that what I do after this, I do out of my love for you.’ He says against your forehead before pressing another kiss there for good measure.

Jing yuan:

Loss wasn’t new to Jing Yuan.

He has experienced it in multiple forms throughout his life, but that didn’t made the news of your death any less painful for the General.

While his mind might’ve made peace with the fact that you were gone, his heart however did not as he would find himself in the places that you often vacated to in moments of stress, or to just be left alone for a while with your thoughts. So to no longer see you in any of those hidden spots -waiting for him to find you like you usually did- only worsened the grief he felt in his heart as he sat himself down and allowed the memories to pass over him in waves.

You were both so happy together and felt a sense of fulfilment that could only be achieved when you were within the other’s presence; A feeling that was uniquely yours and yours alone that could never be replicated, ever. For no one could ever come close to replacing you, nor the companionship you and he had for each other that many assumed would blossom into something more; Jing Yuan also shared the same sentiments as they did, but just as he built the courage to push that boundary between the two of you, you were taken from him before he could utter a single word.

So when a week passes and Jing Yuan found your battered and beaten form in one of your secret spots, back resting against a tree with your eyes closed.

‘Y/n?’ He called out and your eyes opened upon hearing his voice and looking at him with a weak smile. ‘Hey General, miss me?’ You said as you struggled to get up to your feet, only to stumble forward and into Jing Yuan’s chest as his strong yet gentle hands hold you in place.

‘More than you could ever hope to know.’ Jing yuan said as he focused on how you felt beneath his hands, warm and alive.

‘I’m sorry I kept you waiting.’ You muttered against his chest as his warmth made you realised just how tired you were from everything you’ve experienced this last week alone. ‘I never meant to keep you waiting in fear that you’d forget about me if I don’t stay in your life long enough.’ You admit and Jing Yuan instinctively presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, holding you protectively.

‘I could never forget about you my beloved.’ Jing Yuan reassured you as he looked you deep into your eyes. ‘You’ve managed to carve your place within my heart and soul, so much that there isn’t a day where you aren’t all I think about, regardless of whether or not your by my side or far away.’ He finished by pressing a gentle kiss to the gauze on your cheek, chuckling upon seeing your cute attempts of burrowing your face into his chest.

‘How long have you’ve been waiting to say this.’ You asked, thankful that he was the one to admit his feelings first, as you would’ve had a hard time articulating your words as fluidly as he could.

‘For a very long time.’ Jing Yuan replied with a small smile as he then proceeded to lift you into his arms, cuasing you to squeal in surprise, as he made sure to be carful of your wounds and began walking to the nearest medics to make sure your wounds weren’t going to be trouble later on.

Aventurine:

He didn’t know what to think when you were pronounced dead, all Aventurine could feel in that moment was an overwhelming numbness that encased him entirely.

The only light left in his life had been snuffed out, plummeting him into utter and total darkness he had once been well acquainted with until you came along, giving him a reason to keep looking forward despite everything.

You were no longer here to hold onto his left hand before he could even think of hiding it behind his back out of habit, you were no longer here to be his reason, his comfort, his safe place. You were taken away from him unfairly and once again Aventurine found himself asking the same question he has been asking himself for a long time; why everyone was born into this life just to die.

So when a week passes and Aventurine finds himself sat on a bench somewhere, still not dealing well then than he was the week of your assumed passing, lost in his own thoughts when someone took a seat next to him. Aventurine was just about ready to tell them to go away, when he saw just who was sitting next to him; you.

‘I know, I look like shit but you don’t have to look at me like that.’ You spoke upon feeling his eyes gaze upon the gauze on your cheek, then towards the array of bandages that littered the rest of your body.

‘I thought you died.’ He hissed, emotion was heavy in his voice as his eyes became bleary with unshed tears as he felt his breathing become heavy with the reality that you were alive. He didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t in that moment as his mind raced. And it wasn’t until you reached out to grasp his left hand and intertwine your fingers together, squeezing, did everything finally became clear to him.

‘I thought I was too at one point but there was something that kept me from journeying over to the afterlife.’ You admit, looking over at him and smiling sweetly, wanting nothing then to calm his thoughts and reassure him that this wasn’t a dream.

‘And what was that?’ He laughs humourlessly as he stares back at you, wanting to hear what excuses you could come up with for faking being dead for a week. ‘Willpower? Determination?’

‘You Kakavasha.’ You replied straightforwardly and his breath hitched in his throat. You rarely used his actual name unless it was absolutely serious. ‘You were all I thought about as I pushed through my injuries.’ You told him as you continued. ‘Kakavasha is waiting for me was just about all I could think about for a week straight.’ You finished as though you didn’t just confess that he was your soul motivator in staying alive.

‘Really?’ Aventurine said softly, finding it impossible that he could possibly be your reason for anything. ‘Why?’

‘Yes really.’ You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you rested your head against his shoulder. ‘As for why, it’s because I like you more then did let myself admit, but i just wanted you to know incase anything truly bad were to ever happen to me-‘

‘No.’ Aventurine cut you off suddenly, squeezing your hand as though he were afraid. ‘Nothing is going to happen to you, not now. not ever. I just got you back.’ He adds resting his head against your own in a desperate attempt of feeling more of your against him. ‘Just stay with me…please.’ He begs you in a whisper as he nuzzled further into you. ‘and don’t go anywhere I can’t follow. I don’t think I can bear the thought of loosing you again.’

You smiled softly as you just whispered back against the skin of his neck. ‘As long as you don’t go anywhere I can’t follow. I like my crush to be alive and close by even if he can be a pain in my ass sometimes.’

Aventurine chuckles, his heart becoming whole again as he made you cuddle into his side, kissing your head once more as you took this moment to familiarise yourselves with each other. ‘At least I’m a pleasurable pain in the ass.’ He teased and you pinch his side, causing him to flinch, but his smile remained and this time his smile was genuine.

His light has came home.

Ratio:

Fully believed that he’d see you when the mission ended, knowing just how talented and dedicated to the craft you were, and having faith that this would be a measly walk in a park for you.

Only to receive word that you were one of the many who were assumed dead when you weren’t found amongst the living nor the dead.

Veritas tries to remain as levelheaded and logical as possible during this time and continue life as normal. However found himself retracting from everyone else and going none contact, more so specifically with the people you were once associated with, and instead focused heavily on his studies and academics to an unhealthy extent.

A week passes and Veritas feels as though he’s seen a ghost the moment he saw you in his peripheral vision, bandaged and dressed in ripped clothing but still somehow finding it in you to smile.

‘You idiotic Buffon!’ He exclaims as he walks towards you.

‘Well that’s a nice way to greet someone you care about.’ You replied as you readied yourself for a massive rant about how stupid you were and so on, but instead you were held against his chest as he burrows his head into your neck.

‘I thought you died.’ He says in a whisper as he breathed you in. This went against all logic but in that rare moment Veritas didn’t care, you were alive but he still couldn’t let go of the fact that you didn’t tell anyone you were still alive. ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone that you were alive, send a signal, anything.’

You shrugged as you made yourself comfortable in his strong arms. ‘All communications were badly damaged or completely cut off.’ You told him. ‘I was on my own for a long while before finding my way back to you.’

‘Me?’ Veritas asked, pulling away from you. ‘Why not a medial facility for a proper treatment of your wounds? Have you hit your head so hard that common sense had been left on the back burner when making that decision?’

‘I wanted to see you first you dickhead!’ You exclaimed, shutting Veritas up rather quickly with your confession but you didn’t care. ‘is it so wrong of me to let the man I love know that I’m okay? So go ahead and call me an idiot all you like but that won’t change the fact that I felt more fear about not telling you how I truly feel then dying on some stupid mission.’ You finished your rant.

‘You’re insufferable.’ Veritas said after a moment of silence and you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed at this that you didn’t notice that Veritas has began to close in the distance between the two of you.

You scoffed. ‘Oh sure call me insufferable as if you-‘ Veritas cuts you off by cupping your cheeks and planting a sweet short lived kiss against your lips before pulling away with a smirk.

‘Glad to know that the feelings are reciprocated.’ He says, taking enjoyment of rendering you speechless as he gently guided you to medical, and remaining by your side for the remainder of the day.

[won4youu]

Kiss Cam.

pairing: bsf!jake x downbad!reader

genres: fluff, suggestive?, idiots to lovers(sorta)

wc: 5.7k

warning: well there's a kiss cam involved so they kiss 🤭, use of cuss words, also idk anything about American football so I'm sorry if there's anything wrong about it lolol

a/n: this has been collecting dust in our drafts for wayyy too long lol soooo if you like it please reblog and consider following!

written by both @raven-naaaaa and @theaspen

You know that feeling when you look at your best friend and your heart skips a beat, and their smile makes you smile and the entire world seems to fade into the background and it feels like it's just you and him in the room?

Yeah, apparently not everyone felt that way about their best friend. But..you did.

Jake Sim made you so goddamn happy.

Whenever his eyes searched for yours in every crowded room, and the instant smile that accompanied his starry eyes when he recognized your face, your heart did a little tap dance.Either you were projecting your thoughts onto him or just maybe, he liked you too.

But here's the thing, you don't think “like” would do justice to the feelings you harboured for the boy, and using the big L word made your insides cringe.

You've never been in love before. Crushes? Sure, you've had those. But these huge feelings? Those selfish instincts that came over whenever his smile was shared with everyone else as well? Was that normal? You didn't want to know.

"Hi __," his voice is warm and familiar. His arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you into one of those hugs you've come to love.

"Hi Jake,” You greet him back. Internally scoffing at yourself. Because practically anyone could hear the giddy smile that accompanied your voice.

Jake pulls you even closer, if that was even possible. Smiling into your shoulder as well. It's been a few seconds, but his hands still linger on your waist and when he pulls back you can still feel his touch.

Jake's touch is gone, but your heart still feels that stupid annoying rush. You ignore it completely, because honestly? The intensity of your feelings scare you, and the way Jake throws you the yearning glances scare you even more. In fear that you're probably just being delusional all by yourself.

"You look good," he tells you as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You don't try to fight his touch. If anything you lean into it.

Jake seems to have noticed that- his thumb traces some invisible shape on your cheek, eyes so full of adoration.

"Thank you," you reply bashfully. Somehow you could never be nonchalant and cool to him like you are with others. And it pisses you off.

"Come on, let's get to our seats," he says, holding your hand and dragging you through the semi crowd and toward the seating area.

Coming to a football game would definitely not be your first choice, but here you were, with Jake because Heeseung “dropped out” at the last minute and he needed some company.

Okay, here's the deal. You didn't know much about football, but you just came along because well, you're a fool in love.

You didn't mind it honestly, because if watching some dude run around the field with a ball made Jake happy, you'd sit through it for however many times he wanted.

So there you were sitting mindlessly nipping at your sandwich.

“___, the first quarter is done,” Jake grins as he sits down beside you.

“How many more of these do I have to sit through Sim,” you fake whine as Jake laughs beside you.

“You do realise you didn't have to come along with me right?” He chuckles, throwing an arm across your shoulder.

“And leave you here all by yourself to look like a loser with no friends?” You scoff, giving him a smug look, “I'm practically saving your reputation here Sim. A thanks and a lifetime supply of chocolate muffins would do.”

Jake simply rolls his eyes at your faux uppity look.

You shift in your chair as you look around the field, “What do people even do in these breaks?” you ask.

Jake points towards the huge screen that was displaying the results a minute ago.

“See that,” you hum mindlessly, “that is a kiss cam. So during the breaks, people usually just look at other people snogging each other.” You snort at his words and look at the screen. As if on cue, the camera points towards a young couple. The couple share a flustered look before pecking each other and the entire stadium erupts into cheers, and you couldn't help the smile on your face.

“That's so cute…but also lowkey weird, what if it points towards siblings? Or like friends? Wouldn't that put them in an awkward position?” Your question is genuine, but Jake only hangs on to one thing you said.

“Friends?”, he parrots, as his cheeks flush pink, “like us..?” His voice is low, but you catch onto it. Your face heats up at the thought of kissing him. You lock eyes with the boy. There was something so magnetic about his eyes.

You let out an awkward chuckle, “I mean, we don't have to worry about that, no?” You force out a laugh, fiddling with your fingers. “It's not like the camera is gonna point at us.”

“___,” Jake whispers, “you might want to look at the screen.”

Well, fuck.

The camera was pointing towards a very familiar young couple, well at least they looked like a couple on screen. You swore to God your heart was going to jump out of your rib cage. You turn away from Jake, avoiding the camera and Jake laughs awkwardly, crossing his arms to sign ‘no’, which had the audience booing at the two of you.

Thankfully, the camera quickly pans towards another couple, who seem more than happy to kiss each other.

Jake breathes a sigh of relief which you don't miss. Your chest heaves a tiny tiny little bit in disappointment.

Luck definitely wasn't on your side today because soon after, the camera panned towards you and Jake. Again.

Jake laughs as he signs ‘no’, earning more boos from the crowd. You looked up at the screen and noticed that the camera was still on the two of you.

You don't really know what got into you, maybe it was the consistent booing by the crowd that finally tipped you over, because one second you were looking at Jake on the screen and the other your hands were on his face as he looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Sim, I'm going to kiss you,” you rush as you pull him towards you, “If you don't want this tell me now.” He doesn't really remember much of what he said. All Jake remembers is the feeling of his lips on yours.

He could have sworn he heard fireworks when you pulled him closer and crashed your lips against his. Your lips were soft against his and there was a sense of longing in them. God, you drove him mad.

He lets out a groan as his hands find company at your waist, pressing and feeling your skin. He couldn't believe this was happening.

You couldn't believe it either. The moment his lips were on yours, it felt like it was just the two of you in the stadium, but unfortunately, the loud cheers of the audience brought you back to your senses as you heaved against his chest, him burying his head into your neck.

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I've waited for that,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your back. “Yeah?” You look up at him with a flustered smile.

“Yeah.” He says, gulping. The rosy flush on his cheeks still present. The camera isn't pointing at you two anymore and the game has already resumed again. But the two of you can't help but continue to act like giddy idiots.

You're definitely gonna have to thank Heeseung for dipping out on Jake today.

[clockwayswrites]

5 Times the JL Learned Batman was Married and the 1 Time They Met the Spouse.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. + 1

“What is going on?” Batman asked the group as he swept into the room.

John stayed focused on the circle, not wanting to mess up now. It would be a lot of faff for nothing if he did.

“Constantine believes he has a contact to help us with our current issue,” Superman explained. “He is working on the summoning circle now.”

“Is that safe to do on the Watchtower?” Batman asked, as cautious as ever.

“Yeah, mate,” John answered for himself. “This one is a good one. Haven’t met them myself, but real helpful sort of fellow from everything I’ve heard. Or at least real helpful for the things that they can help with.”

Careful not to smudge any lines, John moved backwards out of the circle and gave it a good look over. The rest of the lot were talking about something, but if Batman hadn’t stopped him yet, John figured he was good and intended to keep working. A little slice to his finger, a few drops of blood, the right words, and it was done.

The white markings of the circle seemed to shudder and warp, like the lines on a desert street. Then they snapped a bright green and the inner lines seemed to fall away into an endless void. The void rippled and suddenly a hand reached out of it. The claws made the worst sound as they gripped into the metal floor.

Another hand joined it.

And then the being pulled themselves out of the summoning circle.

John knew better than to try and comprehend what he was seeing. It was all shadow and green flames and fear anyways.

“Who dares to call upon the Ghost King?” the being asked. The voice echoed through the room, through John’s head, through his soul. It sounded like a thousand screaming voices of the dead speaking all at once.

Toxic green eyes in the black mass swept over the group. It was like they were being seen; their souls, their very beings, every aspect of them flayed open and on display for this other worldly entity. John swallowed reflexively when the eyes paused on him for a moment. He wasn’t scared, but there was still a primal part of his brain that said he should run.

Then the gaze landed on Batman and stayed there. Superman stepped forward, slightly, as if to shield Batman from the being’s view.

The being didn’t seem to care and leaned forward up to the edge of the circle. “B?”

Batman inclined his head slightly, “Phantom.”

“Shit. This Justice League approved, huh? Sorry about the dramatics. Usually I only get summoned by cultists who want Pariah Dark, the old king, to give them power or cleanse the world of life or blah blah blah. Best to show up and put the fear of me into them,” the being said, motioning to themselves and all their horror. The reverb of their voice had settled some, now only like a few voices overlapping.

“Understandable,” Batman agreed, seemingly unaffected by it all.

John could only shrug incredulously at Superman’s questioning gaze. Fuck if he knew. Sure, Bats was unflappable, but everyone knew he avoided the supernatural stuff if he could.

The being pulled the last of itself out of the portal which sealed with a sickening squelch. “You could have just called though. Like, I get summoning is a quick way to travel, but it's a little painful."

“Painful?” Batman asked, turning to stare at John, who swallowed nervously at the cold tone.

“Yeah. This was a pretty clean circle though, props to the maker—”

“Thanks, I think?” John mumbled at he watched the being start to shift. It was like watching a black hole collapse in on itself.

“—so it's not that bad, but still it feels like ripping some duct tape off my skin or something,” the being continued. They were much more human shaped now, though they still smiled with an alarming number of very white teeth.

“We'll keep that in mind in the future. I was unaware of who, exactly, they were summoning.”

The rest of the roiling darkness settled on their shoulders like a half cape— one that seemed to hold the infinity of the night sky inside it. The vortex of flames settled into a crown of fire that floated above a head of stark white hair. They flexed their claws and the limbs settled into normal hands that they tucked into pockets of their three piece black suit with its sharp white accents. Then they stepped over the live of what was supposed to be an unbreakable summoning circle.

Like it was just waking through a door.

Like it was nothing.

John took a reflexive step back. This kind of rule breaking shit was exactly why he liked to avoid the Infinite Realms when he could; they were too chaotic to easily manage.

“All good,” they said with a shrug and a fanged smile. “So, what did you need the Ghost King for?”

-

Bruce watched Phantom scan the meeting room as they entered. Their eyes caught, just for a moment, and a million thoughts ran through Bruce’s head. Did he want to do this? Was it time? He trusted the Justice League. They had issues and conflicts, like any group, but they were heroes through and through.

Revealing this also did not mean revealing either of their civilian identities.

The nod was barely any movement at all, but Bruce knew that Phantom had caught it and understood. After so many years together, they hardly needed words, which Bruce often appreciated. Words had never been easy for Bruce. He worked on it for his family. He had to after…

Bruce forced himself not to think about that. Danny had saved Jason, even if the resulting years without Danny there were some of the hardest for the family. They were together again and better for it. Bruce let out a careful breath and took his normal seat.

“Thank you for your assistance, King Phantom,” Wonder Woman started. Phantom held up a hand.

“I didn’t say I could assist. I’ll listen and help if I can and see fit, but there are a great many things that are not mine to aid in,” Phantom said sternly, though his voice was carefully kind. “My influence is only over those closely tied to death and of the Infinite Realms. The living are outside of my jurisdiction.”

“Of course,” Superman said quickly as he could without rushing the words. “Listening is a great start. If you’ll take a seat.”

Phantom nodded and strode right past the indicated seat. With a casual ease that Bruce had always envied, Phantom sat on the arm of Bruce’s chair.

“Um, King Phantom, your majesty?” Flash started nervously. “Batman doesn’t really like to be touched?”

“Really?” Phantom asked innocently. Bruce couldn’t see it, but knew exactly the smirk Phantom had as he leaned back to lounge against Bruce’s shoulder. (Bruce loved that smile.)

Bruce schooled his expression as he watched Flash and Hal exchange looks and frantic hand signs to each other.

J’onn tilted his head curiously as he took his own seat. Bruce could see J’onn come to an understanding as his eyes flickered down the the black metal brand around Phantom’s ring finger in the shape of a flying bat.

“Ah,” J’onn said softly.

“Ah? Ah what?” Flash asked, his words almost a whine. “What do you know?”

Bruce rested his hand lightly on Phantom’s hip, well aware that the motion was in sight of both Superman and Wonder Woman.

“Ah,” Wonder Woman said with a little smile. “J’onn knows something we all know, though not in this context. It is good to meet you, Phantom.”

“Good to meet you also, Wonder Woman. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Phantom said as she sat down next to them.

“I wish I could say the same,” she said with a teasing smile directed Bruce’s way.

“Hn.”

Phantom just laughed, the sound echoing like a ringing bell. “It’s okay, I know what B is like. Trust me, that you know anything at all is a big deal. He’s just bad at doing things the normal way.”

Bruce held back a sigh and just pinched Phantom’s side again, making the other squeak and backhand Bruce in the chest.

“Holy shit!” Hal jutted a finger at Phantom. “You’re Batman’s husband!”

“Guilty as charged,” Phantom said.

“Wait, no, you’re what?” Flash asked and zipped closer to the table. “Huh. You are so not what I expected. I mean, I guess ghost plus Spooky works but you’re so… lively! Wait— is that like, offensive to call the dead lively?”

Phantom laughed again and shook his head. “No, but not everyone in the realms will take it as a compliment. I don’t mind and besides, I’m only half-dead.”

“Half-dead?” Superman asked with his brow furrowed worriedly.

Phantom just waved the concern away. “It’s complicated. Mostly it just means that I still get to live out my human life as simply a human. Ghosts move slower, having eternity and all, so there’s not too much for me to do as the king other than attend to summons and make slow changes.”

“So,” Hal started, ignoring Bruce’s glare and sliding into a seat finally. “You’re married to Batman in your civilian form as well?”

“Of course, it would be silly otherwise,” Phantom said and then added, “and no, I won’t tell you who B is. That’s for him to choose.”

“Okay, but like, we can talk to you, right?” Flash asked, eager as ever.

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I? But work first. What do you think I can help you all with?”

Bruce moved his hand to rest on the small of Phantom’s back and watched his husband command the room like the king he was.

--- AN: and here's the last part! The JL finally meet Batman's husband, or at least once side of him!

[haedgaf]

when i tell you i was genuinely crying at MULTIPLE parts… this was genuinely the saddest fic i’ve read on this app 😭

this was like the perfect amount of angst for me. again i LOVE slice of life and angst just goes so well with the trope. and now i can finally also admit that coming of age is another fave trope of mine.. i have something for angst. and call me weird but i also enjoy character death, because i love how everything just gets very angsty from there and we watch the reader or renjun in this case be affected by the death in extreme ways..

fhis is probably the fic character i’ve felt the most sympathy for. renjun was basically going through shit since he was a baby. WHICH ALSO MAKES THIW FIC AMAZING BECAUSE he and the reader are basically opposites in a sense in which she always had it better than he did? idk. but it broke my heart with how he would be clearly envious of her life style because she still had a family unlike him. that dinner scene broke my heart…

renjun’s way of coping with everything being anger is so :((( and especially after his mother’s death i just felt even more bad for him, he just never wins at all. he lost everyone slowly but still has to believe everything will be alright? like i would doubt shit too. when he freaked out on the reader because his mother’s stuff was gone which was of the only reminders of her i wanted to hug him so bad 😭😭 going through so much at such a young age is genuinely fucked up and i’m glad he didn’t hold any grudges against his mother anymore

THE SCENES RHAT MADE ME CRY WERE BASICALLY ALL OF “see her in the night, there in the corner of my eye” 💔💔 when i read that his mother died i already teared up and then the part where he was digging and met the reader’s gaze… i genuinely wanted to die at that moment i felt so bad for him. specifically the “Huang Renjun has no one. Not even his own mother now.” WAS SO FUCKED UP LIKE THIS IS LITERAL EMOTIONAL DAMAGE TO ME. or “Your heartbroken eyes search for him, blurred with tears, yet, you don’t find him. It’s like he’s disappeared the same moment his mother did. Huang Renjun vanished into the thin air. It’s not him. It’s what was left from him after life took everything from him-- an empty shell with nothing left, but anger. “ when i tell you tears were stuck in my eyes i felt my own heart break… that such a beautiful way with words to describe his loss i literally felt as if i was there witnessing his breakdown 🙁🙁

ANYWAYS GREAT FIC BEST ANGST FIC ON THIS APP YOU JUST NEVER MISS WE FREAKING LOVE YOU

the borders ; huang renjun

pairing: huang renjun x fem! reader genre: childhood friends au, slice of life, coming of age, slow-burn, angst word count: 14.6k (14.618) warnings: swearing, mention of food, mention of toy guns, mention of a fist fight, broken families, mentions of alcohol, mention of domestic violence, minor character death (suicide), being pinned to the ground. this story contains heavy topics, please read only if you’re sure nothing will trigger you.  a/n: this is the first ‘long’ nct fic i’m posting i am literally shITTING MY PANTS also this may be the most personal thing i’ve ever written please handle this fic with care

synopsis: you and renjun have known each other for your whole life– growing up together in the backyards of your houses in the small neighbourghood. the two of you had been joint at the hip for as long as you can remember, but eventually, life has other plans for you. both filled with rage and violence, trying hard to accept the fate life has for you in store, can the two of you trust each other again?

blue monday series || playlist

v. your dad took off when you were a baby

They say that a friend in need is a friend indeed, and even though you and Huang Renjun, the quiet boy you met just because of your mother, have only just met, you would go as far as saying that you confirmed this statement right in front of his eyes just at the sheer age of 5. 

Your mum dropped you off at a stranger’s house– telling you it’s her friend Mrs Huang she met in high school and that she will watch you for the afternoon, trailing off to work right after. At times like these, you despised not having an older sibling to stay at home with, not having to spend your free afternoons in a stranger’s care. That’s where you meet the tall lady with an exhausted look sitting on top of her face, wrinkles decorating her eyes and the area around her mouth, looking so much older than your mother. You learn later that your mum is the same age as Mrs Huang, the information surprising you on a sunny afternoon once you’re older and back in your own backyard, since it seems that fate hasn’t been as nice on your new friend’s mother as it has been on yours. 

You meet Huang Renjun under unusual circumstances. His mum leads you to their backyard with a sad smile on her face, nudging you closer to the boy sitting in the uncut grass, fingers angrily plucking the greenery around him and throwing the stems back onto the ground where they belong. The woman pays no more attention to the two of you, disappearing into the house and leaving you to yourselves– painfully awkward and shy, sitting right opposite of each other with pouts on your childish faces.

Keep reading

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Creepy Bunny Hybrid

After a criminal conviction, the claimed hybrid shelter responsible for sourcing most of the beloved species of hybrid is set to shut down

It’s employees pleading with the public to take in their hybrids who’d be otherwise left on the street

Enough for your parents, who you’ve come to live with, to worry

While they were undecided about the morality of owning hybrids

Humanoids with some animal features

They were determined to be helpful 

whether they truly felt such justice or enjoyed the good samaritan role they’d take in a low-maintenance hybrid

A White rabbit with crimson eyes 

In your opinion one of the more beloved species that would’ve found a home somehow but you couldn’t complain

“Welcome Hori! We hope you can find a home with us!”

“Yeah make yourself at home. Don’t mind our kids they’ll be happy to explain anything you need.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Come come I have to show you all the cool things I have!”

Your family takes to him like metals to magnets 

Hovering near him and waiting on him like he’s the greatest thing since sliced bread

But he’s just so incredibly…quiet

Not just because he doesn’t speak unless spoken to 

But because he just doesn’t move

You’ve peaked at him sitting in the living room on a chair with no book, no TV on, windows closed, no music playing

What kind of bunny sits in the dark and does nothing

His large red eyes are huge, his ears incredibly long and upright

Skin  so pale, he could pass as the undead

Hori won’t even eat like other bunny hybrids

When your parents first gushed over his photo too many evenings were spent looking up what a bunny hybrid would need

Vegetables, fruits, bunny-hybrid pellets were what they filled the cabinets and fridge with

But he ate none of that 

Barely nibbling when your brother excitedly presented the spread

“This looks…good.”

Barely a quarter of the plate was gone

Before he claimed he was stuffed

The second your family slipped up though and handed him a plate full of steak 

he left nothing on the plate

“I thought bunnies weren’t omnivores?”

“...Maybe the original animal doesn’t but I am a hybrid. Things are…different.”

“Yeah (Y/n), things are different! Stop bullying Hori!”

It oddly feels like Hori is not all he seems 

Constantly seeking out hotdogs over the fruit you offer

Or spending unusual amounts of time staring at the passing neighbors

Or coming home at unspeakably late hours

But every time you tried to bring this up your family would scorn you

Writing off your observations as you being nitpicky

Or even jealous of the newest member of the family

“Just know (Y/n) you still hold a special place in our hearts.”

“Yeah no need to whine, we won’t forget you.”

“Just don’t take it out on Hori he’s been through so much.”

So you settle to avoid him

Just let him be in his parts of the house and you in yours 

But that doesn’t seem to work with his edition

“(Y/n)...will you accompany me on the grocery run?”

“I thought my older sib was taking you?”

“Originally…but I’d like for you to take me!”

“Uh…”

“Come on (Y/n)! Take this time to bond with Hori! Maybe you’ll find something’s in common between you two.”

It’s annoying that he insists on doing things with you

But it’s just some things

And of course, because he’s so creepily quiet it almost feels like you’re by yourself

It just gets worse

“I want to sleep with you, (Y/n).”

It was way past midnight and Hori was above you 

Caging you between his arms as he practically laid above you 

There was blood around his mouth and if you had the space you’d check over you body for a wound

“W-wh-what?!”

“Hori? (Y/n)? Please?!”

“T-t-that’s not even a real sentence! Please get off me!”

Once he does reluctantly give you space

You flick on a lamp or use your phone’s light to light the room

Hori’s hair is much longer, flowing past his tail 

Which was no longer a small puff ball now bloomed into something larger

His ears were incredibly long and twitching as though it was filled with joints of its own

His teeth seemed like they had no end, just rows and rows of spiny teeth all coated with the gunk and gooey mess of a carnivore’s meal

“All that blood?!”

He licks an abnormally long tongue around his mouth

“The left-of-overs from dinner.”

“Dinner was hours ago!”

“Not your dinner my dinner.”

The implication made your stomach twist

“Uh was it good?”

“Very. Now, sleep with you?”

You hoped he’d forget but if only to get some semblance of control and maybe be able to fall back asleep 

You relent

“Fine, but I’m not going to share my blanket…you’re a lot bigger than before.”

“It's okay those covers are not the heat I am after.”

You decided not to comment on it, wrapping yourself in your comforter

Letting Hori’s much larger limbs wrap around you tightly

This creepy bunny continued to surprise you

You could only hope that you’d figure him out soon 

Or your family might be the one to pay the price

[gothcsz]

Obvious | Pornstar!Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | Part 4 of Unscripted Desire | ~12k wc | Series Masterlist | gif cred | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Life after quitting the porn industry.

Tags: halloween vibes, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex (protected), getting bent over in a parking garage, frankie heavy beginning (they had us in the first half not gonna lie), speaking of frankie he wears the ghostface mask while hitting it, connie has entered this little universe, masturbation with vibrator (f), clit stimulation, dirty talk, pussy slapping, JUST THE TIP!!!!, no use of y/n, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: surpriseeeee, i woke up a little too inspired to write and voila, out came this beautiful chapter that i was not expecting to get out so soon. again, this fic has def taken off in ways i never imagined but uhhh, we out here 🖤 thanks to everyone for the support, frankie girlies (gn) i hope i did your man justice 'cause i was feeling a little too feral for him. as for my just the tip stans... we did it joe 🤠 i hope you guys fucking love this the way i do and that you ruined your underwear... just as i did 🖤

The cool autumn breeze sweeps over you as you walk out of the movie theater with Frankie, the Halloween spirit in full swing. Scream 2 was as thrilling as ever, and your favorite of the trilogy.

The fall season always makes you feel nostalgic, and tonight has been no exception—dinner, a movie, and Frankie by your side for the past month has made things feel better than they have been for quite some time now.

“It’s not that hard to escape the bastard,” Frankie says confidently, as if he’d be the first to survive the whole ordeal. “He’s just some guy—or girl—wearing a mask with a knife. I’d have them handled in five minutes. Tops.”

You laugh, humoring him. “Oh, I’m sure you would.”

The parking garage is mostly empty, dimly lit as you make your way to his truck, parked at the top level. You’re talking casually about the film when he suddenly slows down, a mischievous smirk creeping across his face. He corners you slowly, backing you against the cool metal of the truck, his presence looming as you feel the tension rise. 

“Or,” he says, voice dropping lower, “I could be a real kickass Ghostface.”

Your eyes flick to the mask in his hand, the complimentary one that came with the tickets, and then back to him. His dark brown eyes gleam with playful intent, and a thrill shoots through you. “Oh yeah?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow.

He grins, slipping his cap off and pulling the mask over his face. Oh, shit. You’ve never had a mask kink before, but something about Frankie wearing it like this, his body pressing closer, has your pulse racing. 

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” He asks, his voice lowering to mimic what’d you just seen, a smooth yet eerie tone. It’s almost too good, too convincing, and you suddenly understand why people fantasize about this kind of thing.

You bite your lip, your mind swirling with desire as his hand slides down to your hip, squeezing gently. “I don’t have one,” you say, teasing him. You can barely see his eyes through the mask’s slits, but the way his head tilts makes your stomach flip.

“Oh, c’mon, hermosa,” he purrs, “don’t lie to me.”

You giggle nervously, feeling the heat between you both intensify. Glancing around to make sure you’re still alone, you place a hand on his chest, letting it slide down slowly until it reaches his belt. He grunts in response, his free hand gripping the back of your head tightly. The pressure sends a shiver down your spine, and you whimper softly.

“You’re liking this, aren’t you?” He asks, voice muffled slightly by the mask but dripping with lust.

“More than I’d like to admit,” you breathe out, your body reacting instinctively to his touch. And before you can process it, your jeans and underwear are being pulled down to your mid-thigh. Frankie wastes no time, maneuvering you into the backseat of the truck. You’re bent over, ass out, hands pressed against the cool leather as you hear him undo his belt, the sound of his zipper punctuating the quiet.

He’s quick, efficient, rolling a condom over his thick cock before positioning himself behind you. His hand grips your hip as he thrusts into you, and you gasp as he fills you, the mask still firmly on his face. 

It’s fucking amazing. Frankie fucks you like no one ever has—not like it’s for show or performance, but feverent and real. Each thrust hits the perfect spot inside you, sending your vision into a haze of stars. You’re more vocal than you’ve ever been, moaning his name, asking for more.

“Harder,” you whine, and he obliges, his nails digging into your hips as he pounds into you relentlessly. His grunts mix with your moans, the sound echoing in the empty parking garage. 

When he’s close, he finally pulls the mask off, tossing it aside before leaning down, kissing and nipping at your neck. His fingers move below you, rubbing at your sensitive clit as you clench around him, your orgasm rushing through you.

His teeth graze your skin as you both reach your peak, your body trembling as he groans, his release following yours.

He stills inside you, breathing heavily against your neck, and for a moment, everything is still—just you, him, and the night. You smile, feeling content, and he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder before slowly pulling out, leaving you both breathless in the backseat of his truck.

“Well, fuck.” Frankie curses under his breath, tying the condom off with a quick motion. His hands, now gentler, reach for yours as he helps you up, both of you quickly fixing your clothes and appearances.

Once you’re situated, you spin around to face him, your fingers lightly brushing his jaw as you lean in to kiss him. It’s sweet, and the soft smack of your lips echoes through the empty parking garage.

“That was amazing,” you say, still a little breathless, your heart still racing in your chest.

A smirk plays on his lips as he puts his cap back on and tosses the used condom in a nearby trash bin. “Gonna have to hold onto this,” he says, nodding toward the Ghostface mask, now thrown carelessly into the backseat. There’s a playful gleam in his eyes, that flirty, teasing edge you’ve come to expect from him.

“It was definitely a heat-of-the-moment thing,” you say, trying to play it cool, though you can’t help the little grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Mhm, sure it was.” He winks, sliding into the driver’s seat beside you as he starts the engine, the rumble of his truck echoing as he pulls out of the garage.

The streets are alive with the Halloweekend night crowd. People spill out of bars, laughter and chatter drifting through the air as Frankie navigates through the bustling costumed scene. You catch sight of a group of friends stumbling onto the sidewalk, and you’re grateful that your apartment’s entrance is around the back, away from all the noise and chaos.

Frankie pulls up across the street from your place, parking the truck and turning to you with a slightly furrowed brow. “Not really a fan of your current living arrangement,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes serious.

You shrug, reaching for your purse. “Beggars can’t be choosers,” though you can’t deny you’ve felt the same way. The cramped apartment above a rowdy bar wasn’t your dream setup, but it’s what you’ve got for now.

Leaning over the console, you peck his lips once, twice, then again. What starts as a series of playful kisses quickly turns into something more, your hands finding his stubbled jaw as his fingers graze your thigh. Before long, you’re fully making out again.

When you finally pull away, your lips tingling, you ask softly, “Wanna come up?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes search yours for a moment, considering something. But then, with a slow nod, he says, “Yeah, okay.” His voice is steady, but there’s that familiar heat beneath it, the same one that had you wrapped up in the backseat earlier.

The following morning is spent with the both of you lazily lounging around your apartment, only leaving to pick up  a late breakfast from your favorite spot around the corner before you’re back in bed, sleeping the day away.

You’re barely aware of the warm breath ghosting over your inner thighs as you shift in your sleep, legs lazily spread across the bed. A sleepy moan slips out when you feel soft lips pressing against your pussy, then a firmer kiss followed by a slow drag of a tongue. 

You stir, half-dazed, your fingers instinctively moving to the unruly curls of hair between your legs as the sensation intensifies. Frankie’s lips latch onto your clit, sucking gently, and it sends a shock of pleasure through your body, waking you up fully.

“Oh,” his name slips from your lips like a breathless confession. 

You can feel his grin against you, hear the low groan vibrating through your sensitive flesh as he takes his time, his tongue swirling around you in lazy circles, savoring your taste.

Just for a second, a flash of something—or someone—else crosses your mind. Javier. The thought of him, of the way he’d made you fall apart that day in the elevator, flickers in your mind like a flame.

Your eyes fly open in shock, and you gasp, but Frankie is none the wiser. He assumes your reaction is all because of him, and that only spurs him on. His lips press harder against you as he brings two fingers up, spreading you open gently before sinking them inside. 

You shake your head, mentally shoving him back into the recesses where he belongs.

With a determined focus, you let yourself melt back into the pleasure, letting go of everything else. “Pussy tastes so good, hermosa,” he mumbles, as he works his mouth and fingers together, creating a messy, perfect rhythm that has your thighs clenching around his head.

It’s all too much, too good, and you can’t help the way your body writhes beneath him.

Your moans fill the room, louder and more desperate, hips lifting and chasing the pleasure as the tension in your spine coils tighter and tighter until it finally snaps, and you come undone all over his lips and fingers.

Frankie doesn’t stop right away—his lips stay on you, moving with less intensity now, just soft kisses as you come down from your high. He places a final, lingering kiss to your clit before he crawls up your body, kissing a path along your skin. You’re still wearing his t-shirt, your body half exposed, and he grins down at you, his dark eyes sparkling with satisfaction. 

“Figured you needed something to help get you through your shift,” he says, his voice teasing yet full of affection.

You give him a lazy, fucked-out smile, still catching your breath. “It’s gonna help me with more than just my shift, mister. You just gave me something new to add to my spank bank.”

He shakes his head playfully. “Spank bank, huh? Glad to be of service,” he adds with a wink, leaning in for another kiss, slower this time. You can’t help but run your hands over his arms, admiring the small scars, the beauty marks that dot his tan skin.

“Are you coming back tonight?” You ask softly, your fingers tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him down for a peck.

He sighs against your lips before shaking his head. “Can’t. I’ve got Elliana this weekend,” he says, his tone softening as he mentions his four-year-old daughter. You haven’t met her yet, the two of you keeping things casual and slow.

Neither of you wants anything serious, but hearing him mention his daughter always adds a layer of sweetness to him that makes you feel warm.

You nod in understanding, pulling him down for one final kiss before you force yourself to get up and start getting ready for work. He watches you, that same teasing, affectionate glint in his eyes, and you can’t help but smile back at him, grateful for whatever this is between you two.

“You just got fucked, didn’t you?” Connie’s voice hits you the second you step behind the bar, her eyebrows wiggling with mischief as she leans against the counter, arms crossed over her Princess Peach costume that’s not really a costume—just a pink tennis dress with the signature crown atop of her head. 

“Hello to you too, Connie.” You give her a sarcastic smile, securing the half apron around your waist. It’s a routine now—her prying into your business like an investigative reporter for the gossip section.

Reminds you of another blond, and now you wonder if they’re all just like this.

Your firecracker of a coworker is an E.R. nurse who took on this bartending gig a few months after you did. The fact that she has to hustle for tips despite being in healthcare is one of those cruel ironies you both bitch about during slow shifts. You’d think a nurse would be raking in cash, but there are nights here at Lucky’s where she pulls more than at the hospital.

“I’m just saying,” Connie continues, mid-lemon slice, her eyes narrowing in exaggerated suspicion. “You’re wearing your cute jeans, your shirt’s actually clean, and—wait, is that makeup on your face? Please don’t tell me you’re in cat ears!” She pauses, blade in hand, smirking at you like she’s cracked some secret code.

Your face warms up as you adjust the stupid cat ears on your head. Yeah, she’s nailed it—hooking up with Frankie before your shift definitely put some extra pep in your step tonight. A little effort never hurt, especially when looking put-together meant better tips.

It’s Halloween, and people tend to tip better when you’re festive. So, why not milk it for all it’s worth?

“Just capitalizing off the holiday, Con. Is that a crime?” You say, bending down to grab the ice buckets for a quick refill before the evening rush hits.

“No, what is a crime,” she says, not missing a beat as she narrows her eyes at you, tossing the lemons aside, “is you skimping out on the juicy details of your love life.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that slips out as you hip-check her on your way to the ice machine. “I’m not skimping. It’s not like I’ve been hiding some wild love affair. We only started fucking, what, like two weeks ago?”

“And?” She leans forward, hands on her hips, waiting like she’s tuning in for the next episode of her favorite drama.

You bite your lip, lowering your voice conspiratorially, “It’s… fucking amazing.”

She whistles, then throws her hands up in celebration. You can’t help but laugh—loudly—your mood is too good to even pretend to be embarrassed.

Grabbing the freshly filled ice buckets, you lug them back behind the bar, your arms burning slightly from the weight, but you’re not complaining. Between lugging buckets and keeping the bar stocked, who needs a gym membership?

“I’m so jealous. I can’t even remember the last time I slept with a guy and actually enjoyed it,” She says with a dramatic sigh, leaning her elbows on the bar.

“Trust me, I was in the same boat for the longest time. Then Frankie just… showed up,” you say with a small, satisfied smile. It’s true, he kind of did swoop in out of nowhere, and it’s been surprisingly easy with him since.

But, of course, there’s that brief hiccup in your mind that involves Javier. 

You push the thought of him away, like you’ve been doing for weeks. What happened earlier in bed with Frankie was just a slip-up, your subconscious messing with you.

“Well, I need a guy to just show up and fuck me so I can think straight again,” she half-jokes, and the two of you burst into laughter, the kind that shakes your shoulders and draws a few curious glances from nearby patrons.

As the night picks up, the bar gets busier, and the usual rhythm settles in. You and Connie move in sync, the crowd buzzing with energy.

Costumes, chatter, and the clinking of glasses surround you, but you’re in your zone. It’s not until about two hours later, as you’re pouring someone’s vodka soda, that you catch sight of a familiar face sliding into a barstool in front of you.

“Long time no see, stranger,” you greet Steve over the music, already reaching for his usual piss beer and uncapping it before sliding it across the counter.

“Work’s been fucking ass,” he replies, taking a long, much-needed gulp from the bottle. You can see the exhaustion in his eyes. 

“Robbie still being an asshole, I presume?” You ask, shifting away to take another patron’s order while keeping half an ear out for whatever fresh hell your ex-boss has put Steve through now.

Steve’s attention, though, is fixed on something—or rather, someone—else. His gaze locks on Connie, who’s busy putting on a little show for a group of birthday girls. She’s expertly pouring a line of shots, lighting them on fire, and sliding them toward the group, who erupt into cheers.

“She seein’ anyone?” He asks, leaning in closer, like he’s trying to keep the question discreet. Between the thumping music and the lively chatter, Connie wouldn’t hear him even if he shouted.

You raise a brow. “Like I told you last time—and like she told you the time before—no.”

“Then why’s she always shuttin’ me down?” He frowns, frustration creasing his face.

You shrug, wiping down the perpetually sticky counter. “Probably because you only approach her here, when you’re halfway through a six-pack. Connie’s not looking for bullshit—she deals with enough of that here and at the hospital.”

Steve scoffs, taking another hefty swig of his beer. “Right. You bartenders are tough to crack.”

You smirk, knocking your knuckles on the wooden bar top. “Maybe, but we’re worth the effort.”

Steve chuckles at that. “Now, spill. I’ve barely seen you since I quit.” You’re curious, and maybe just a little petty.

He groans, tipping his head back as if the memory of work physically pains him. And a part of you—maybe the slightly vindictive part—waits eagerly to hear about how Robbie’s screwing up, still secretly wishing for your old boss’s downfall.

“Longer shoots for lesser pay. And the fucking guys he’s been hiring— Christ Almighty. S’been a fuckin’ shitshow since you walked out,” You feel pride swell up in your chest at the remembrance, how good it felt to stick up for yourself. “But especially since Javier kicked his ass to the curb. I’m the last one standing.”

You barely have time to absorb this before a rowdy group of frat boys descends on the bar, demanding drinks with the enthusiasm of toddlers in a candy store.

You want to wring their necks for interrupting your train of thought, especially since curiosity about what happened with Javier is gnawing at you.

Why do you care? That small voice in your head questions, but you put her on mute and focus on fulfilling the orders of these insufferable college students.

Noticing you’re tied up, Steve hops down a few barstools, positioning himself in front of Connie, trying to charm her again. You can’t help but catch snippets of his pickup lines as you whirl about behind the bar. To your surprise, Connie seems receptive this time, laughing and engaging with him instead of brushing him off like before.

Good for her—she deserves a bit of fun, especially after just saying she needed to get laid. You hope Steve has learned a thing or two from all those shoots.

Amid the chaos, you break through their flirting when Connie has to prepare another round of shots. “So, Javier quit?” you ask, the words spilling out before you can hold them back.

Steve, clearly happy as hell that his advances have finally worked, shoots you a smug grin. “Yup. Him and Robbie were arguing more and more then he pulled a you and stormed off set. It’s just him and his agent now. He isn’t signing on to just one production company anymore. Don’t be surprised if you see him sellin’ tricks on Figueroa.”

A frown tugs at your lips, the bittersweet news settling in your chest. You can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for Javier.

“Why are you askin’? You miss him or somethin’? Thought you were still bangin’ it out with that camera guy from Malibu.” His tone is teasing, reminiscent of a little brother trying to get under your skin.

You snort, rolling your eyes and collecting the empty glasses into a plastic bin. “ I’m just surprised. This is like, his whole thing.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, he hasn’t been working as much. I’ve never seen the guy be this… still. Told him maybe it’s a good thing—he can finally chill the fuck out and give his dick a break.”

You can’t help but laugh, handing him another beer. “I can’t even imagine what else he’d do. Can you seriously picture Javier Peña working a 9 to 5?”

Steve grins, scratching his chin as if pondering the idea. “I dunno, he could be a good car salesman. Maybe even insurance?”

You both chuckle, but as you excuse yourself to put away the dirty dishes, your mind lingers on Javier. It’s like a weird domino effect: your departure had shaken things up, and now a small part of you feels somewhat responsible for this mess.

No, you shouldn’t feel this way. He’ll figure it out. You really shouldn’t waste this much time ‘worrying’ about him. He means nothing to you. End of story.

The rest of your shift flows smoothly, and you end up pocketing more tips than you anticipated. Even the late hour—almost four in the morning—doesn’t faze you as you and Connie finish cleaning up and closing.

“You can stay the night if you want. I’m sure you don’t want to wait for the bus this late,” you suggest, watching her mop with a satisfied smile.

“Actually…” She pauses, wringing out the mop head. Your brows raise at her tone, and she bites her lip. “My ride is waiting for me out front.”

You piece it together in an instant, halting mid-count of the twenty-dollar bills. “No way, you finally gave in to Steve!”

Connie’s face lights up with a sheepish smile. “I thought he was cute since day one. I just couldn’t let him get to me so easily. Play hard to get, you know? See if he really wanted me as badly as he said he did.”

You hum, shaking your head with a grin as you resume counting. “Atta girl. Enjoy yourself, you deserve it.”

As you finish up, you hug Connie goodbye, watching as she excitedly jumps into Steve’s Jeep. You trudge up the creaky stairs to your place, feeling a bit lonely now.

The remnants of Frankie’s presence linger in your cramped apartment: his side of the bed still mussed, a crumpled T-shirt on the floor, and takeaway containers from earlier scattered on your small kitchen table.

With a sigh, you take off your cat ears and head straight for the shower, hoping to wash away the lingering thoughts of both Javier and Frankie before slipping into the quiet of your own bed.

Frankie stands in your living room, his expression serious but soft, while you sit on the couch, staring up at him.

You foolishly didn’t think this would happen—at least not this soon, only two months in. His words are steady, measured, like he’s practiced this. “Elliana’s mom and I… we’re trying to work things out.”

The lump in your throat rises, but you refuse to let it crack your voice. You won’t give in to the urge to cry. It’s not like you didn’t expect this on some level—dating a man with a child meant his ex would always be in the picture. And now, she’s front and center. 

“I understand…”

He exhales deeply at seeing you like this. He sits next to you, close but not invasive, and his presence—still so familiar—only sharpens the ache. You don’t pull away, though everything inside you screams to. Even if this is the right way to end things, you have every right to feel a sting. 

You weren’t serious-serious, but you’d gotten used to him. His easy warmth, the random dates that brightened your week, the small slice of domesticity you didn’t realize you’d grown to like. And the sex… God, you’re not ready to give that up, either. 

“I didn’t mess around with her while we were together. You have to know that,” he adds, his voice low, calm, as if trying to make sure you’re not left with any doubts. He rests his hand on your knee, grounding you in the moment, though you wish he wouldn’t. 

“I know you’re not that guy, Frankie. It just sucks being broken up with,” you say, forcing a smile, lightening your tone as if to keep the tears at bay.

He sighs again, his big brown eyes—those damn puppy eyes—locking onto yours. “I really enjoyed my time with you,” he says, sounding sincere. “It was great. You’re great.”

You nod, just wanting this to be over so you can sink yourself into your sheets and rot for the rest of the day. 

“Likewise, Frankie. Now go make sure your daughter’s got a stable home to grow up in.” You try to smile again, but it’s weaker this time. He can see through it, you know, but he nods anyway.

You walk him to the door, making a quick detour to your bedroom to gather the few t-shirts he’s left behind. When you hand them to him, he grins, trying to lift the mood. “So that’s where these went.”

“Yeah, I’m a bit of a t-shirt hoarder,” you joke back, your voice hollow.

He pauses at the door, his eyes lingering on you longer than you’d like.

“Take care of yourself.”

“You too, hermosa,” he replies, the affection in the word making your heart squeeze.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, you let yourself collapse against it, sliding down until you’re sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to your chest. The tears come silently at first, just a slow trickle, but soon they’re streaking down your cheeks as you curl into yourself.

You hate dating. You’ve always hated it. It feels like a cycle of disappointments: either you’re stuck with some dud or, worse, you find someone worth a damn, and they leave anyway. 

After crying it out for a few minutes, you force yourself to wipe away the tears. The ache in your chest lingers, but you’re determined to distract yourself, dragging your feet over to the entertainment center. Your hand glides over the familiar spines of DVDs and VHS tapes, searching for the right kind of escape, something to pair with the bottle of wine you’ll snag from downstairs.

You reach the end of the row and stop on Pretty Woman, about to pull it out, when your fingers brush against a few unmarked DVDs shoved haphazardly in the back. Curious, you pull them out, and your breath hitches.

They’re your old shoots—the first ones you ever did with Javier. The raunchy titles leap out at you, and suddenly, memories of being on set with him flood back. The chemistry, the heat, the way he looked at you when the cameras weren’t rolling.

Your pulse quickens. You should put them back. But you don’t. You weren’t prepared for this— especially not today, freshly dumped, on the verge of a sexual drought, and with your head all messed up.

Fuck it, you have nothing to lose, so you randomly pick one. Pretty Woman gets shoved aside as you clutch the DVD case, a weird thrill running through you.

As if possessed, you march to your bedside table in your bedroom, frantically rummaging for your long-neglected vibrator. It’s been gathering dust since Frankie showed up, but now… now you’re hoping, praying it still works. When you finally find it, you flip it on, and the gentle hum tells you it’s fully charged.

Thank you, past me. You have no idea how much present me needs this.

With a deep breath, you return to the living room and pop the DVD into the player. The screen flickers to life, and you settle onto the couch, heart pounding in your chest as the film begins. 

The anticipation builds as the usual no-piracy warning flashes on the screen, followed by the production company’s intro. Finally, the familiar jazzy porn music kicks in, setting the mood for what’s to come.

You can already feel your pulse racing, knowing what’s next. This one, you remember—it was one of the first outdoor scenes you shot.

The setup was simple, classic: a woman stranded on the side of the road due to car trouble, waiting for a tow truck to save her. The main star, gorgeous as ever, is dressed provocatively in a tiny miniskirt, platform flip-flops, and a tube top that screams easy access. The camera lingers over her, capturing every curve of her body as she fakes helplessness, playing her role perfectly.

Then comes the rumble of the tow truck, and Javier steps out, looking rugged and sexy in dirty jeans and a rumpled denim shirt with a generic towing company patch stitched onto it. His presence alone is enough to make your skin prickle with heat.

“Pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be stuck out here like this,” his voice fills the room. God, you hate to admit it, but you’ve missed hearing him—his smooth tone, the way he used to make every line sound like a promise.

Maybe it’s the leftover emotion from Frankie’s breakup that’s doing this to you, making you feel too much.

“Thank goodness you’re here to help me out. I just... I don’t have any money on me right now to pay for it,” the woman pouts, lips glossy, eyes fluttering up at him like she’s the most innocent thing alive.

Javier cocks his head, eyes traveling over her like she’s a piece of candy. “Don’t worry,” he says, that signature smirk appearing on his face. “I think we can figure something out.”

And just like that, they’re fucking. Raw, desperate sex. He has her spread out on the hood of the car, and her tits bounce with every hard thrust. Javier holds her legs wide open, his rough hands gripping her thighs as he slams into her.

The scene is pure, animalistic lust, and it has your head spinning.

A whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it. Your moans mix with theirs from the TV, and the steady buzz of your vibrator pulses deep inside you. You match the rhythm of Javier’s thrusts, watching as he pistons his cock in and out of her, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling your living room.

You remember that day on set vividly. You’d been sick, your body still sore from the remnants of a cold, and you’d been eager to get it over with so you could go home and collapse into a warm bowl of pho.

But now, watching the scene play out in front of you, it’s like you’re seeing it for the first time—every detail heightened, every movement burned into your mind.

Javier’s fingers dig into her skin as he holds her in place, his hips grinding into her with force. Her face twists in bliss, and you can’t help but imagine what that must feel like, that deep, toe-curling sensation as he hits just the right spot. You let out another moan, the vibrator buzzing relentlessly as you try to keep up with the scene, your hips rocking in time with theirs.

When he leans down, wrapping his lips around her nipple, it’s like you can feel the phantom of his mouth on your own skin. You bring a hand up to your chest, pinching and twisting your nipple, slicking your fingers with spit to heighten the sensation. It’s almost too much, but you can’t stop yourself.

Your breathing quickens as you turn up the setting on the vibrator, the pleasure building, your back bending off the couch. You close your eyes and let your imagination take over, the image of Javier on top of you searing into your mind—his body, hot and heavy, pressing against yours, his teeth grazing your neck, his hands everywhere at once. You can feel him, hear the grunts and groans from the screen, but in your mind, it’s all for you.

“Nena, look at you,” Javier’s voice murmurs, low and rough in your mind, as he hitches your leg higher around his waist, his words melting into your skin like liquid heat. “Told you you’d look so beautiful spread out like this, taking my cock so well.”

A sharp gasp escapes you, your breath catching in your throat as your pussy clenches tightly around the vibrator, which suddenly feels less like a toy and more like him—big, thick, and filling you completely. You can almost feel the weight of him pressing against you, the way his cock would stretch you just right. Your lips part, another whimper escaping as the scene in your head becomes even more vivid.

“And those noises you’re making?” His voice, rich and dripping with desire, keeps echoing through your thoughts. “Baby, you drive me fucking,” his hips snap forward in your imagination, rough and unrelenting, “crazy,” another thrust sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. Your neck arches back, exposing your throat like you’re inviting him to claim you, his mouth finding the sensitive skin behind your ear, marking you, biting you. His lips would feel so good, so possessive, leaving trails of heat wherever they touch.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers against your skin, his breath hot in your ear. “Even after not seeing your pretty face for two months, all I see when I close my eyes is you.”

His teeth graze your earlobe, and it sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. Your hand moves from your breast down to your clit, fingers rubbing the tender nub with an urgency you can’t hold back any longer. You’re so close, so fucking close. 

“Oh, J-Javi,” you cry out, your voice breaking. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”

The orgasm slams into you, cutting off your words, drowning your thoughts in white-hot pleasure. Your body spasms uncontrollably, juices dripping down as your vibrator hums between your legs. You’re shaking, utterly spent, your breath ragged, skin on fire.

“Good girl, nenita,” his voice purrs, the Spanish rolling off his tongue like honey. “Mira que belleza. It’s okay, I got you.”

It takes a moment for reality to snap back into place, the haze of pleasure lifting just enough for you to realize that he didn’t say it at all. It was the Javier on the screen, whispering sweet praise to the actress as he fucked her.

You lay there, boneless, too tired to care as the movie continues to play. But something feels off now, a strange sense of emptiness replacing the satisfaction you usually feel.

You pull the vibrator from between your legs, the wetness from your climax glistening on it as you flick the switch off and toss it carelessly onto the coffee table. You’ll clean it later.

Your body slumps against the cushions, head falling into your hands. “What the fuck did you just do?” You whisper to yourself.

Watching porn to get off? That’s normal, right? It’s what it’s made for. Lots of people do it. So why do you feel so… guilty? Is it because it was Javier? Of course it is. No matter how hard you try to push him out of your mind, he always finds a way back in—whether he’s there in front of you, or haunting you in the fantasies, you can’t seem to put him to rest.

And the timing? Not even an hour after being broken up with, and already you’ve let him worm his way back into your head, back into your body. It’s like he’s got you tangled up, literally and figuratively, even when he’s not here.

Unable to take any more of their exaggerated moans and whimpers, you reach for the remote and switch off the TV, the screen going dark as you eject the disc and shove it back into its case. You finally grab Pretty Woman, tossing it into the player without much thought, your head still spinning.

It’s only then that you remember the wine, the one thing that might actually help clear your head. You stand, sluggish and sore, pulling your clothes back on and heading downstairs to fetch that much-needed bottle, your thoughts still racing, still trying to untangle the mess that is Javier Peña lodged firmly in your mind.

“Just know, I didn’t plan this.”

Steve’s words make you squint in suspicion as he slides onto the barstool next to you, his usual spot. You’re about to ask what he means when your heart plummets—there he is. The familiar broad frame of the handsome man you’ve been trying—and failing—to scrub from your mind ever since your breakup two weeks ago. Hell, before then too.

“What’s he doing here?” you hiss, shooting Steve a glare so sharp it could cut glass.

“He caught me off guard, okay? Basically invited himself. Don’t make it weird,” he mutters, clearly trying to avoid your wrath.

You bite down hard on your tongue, trying to keep your frustration in check. But then your gaze collides with Javier’s, and it feels like the wind has been knocked out of you.

Those deep brown eyes, glinting beneath the dim lighting, pin you in place, stirring up everything you’ve been trying to bury. It’s infuriating how he seems even more attractive than the last time you saw him, like life just decided to up the ante on making him impossible to forget.

Clearing your throat, you force yourself to look away, frantically trying to busy your hands. Anything to keep from talking to him. But it’s hard to focus when every cell in your body is hyper-aware of his presence just a few feet away.

“I’m going on break!” Connie’s chirpy voice feels like nails on a chalkboard, and you don’t miss the way she winks at Steve before grabbing his arm and leading him to the back.

Ah, so that’s why he’s here earlier than usual. 

“Thirty minutes!” You shout after her, but your heart’s not in it. You’re too preoccupied with the fact that you’re now alone at the bar with Javier and a few of the happy hour regulars.

He leans forward on his elbows, casual but impossibly magnetic in a jean jacket and a cream-colored shirt. His sunglasses hang from the unbuttoned portion near his collarbones, and you can smell that familiar scent of cigarette smoke and cologne that’s been seared into your memory. “So this is the illustrious Lucky’s,” he says, his deep voice wrapping around you like a slow burn.

“The one and only,” you manage to reply, keeping your tone clipped.

“Been doin’ okay?”

“I’ve been managing.” Your words come out a little too quick, a little too defensive, but you can’t help it. 

He tilts his head, his gaze steady. “Still seeing that guy?”

There’s an unmistakable tinge of jealousy laced in his voice, and your heart skips a beat. You meet his eyes for a moment before going back to drying the cheap chalices your boss insisted on for an upcoming theme night.

“That guy has a name,” you correct him coolly. “But no. That ship sailed two weeks ago.”

A low hum escapes his throat, and he drums his fingers lightly against the countertop. “A shame.”

“Can I get you anything?” You ask, a little too forcefully. The question feels like a challenge, and from the way his eyes glint, you know he feels it too.

He lets the tension simmer between you for a moment before finally answering, “Just a Corona.”

“Lime?” 

“Of course, nena.”

That fucking term of endearment hits you like a punch to the gut. It’s what he’s always called you, ever since the very first time you met. And damn it, it’s the same name he whispers in your ear when you imagine him thrusting balls deep inside you, filling you with every inch of his cock.

Your breath hitches before you can stop it, the heat rising in your cheeks as you fumble for a lime. You slice it, hands shaking ever so slightly as you wedge it into the bottle, sliding it across the bar to him.

He doesn’t say anything, just watches you, his gaze burning with the unspoken tension that always builds when you’re around each other.

You can feel it too—the weight of all the unsaid things hanging in the air. All the desire. All the frustration.

He thanks you softly. “So, Steve finally got himself a girl.” He tries to continue the mundane conversation, amused as he leans in, a small smirk playing on his lips.

You try not to notice the way his neck muscles work when he takes a sip of his beer, but it’s impossible not to. You hate the way your body responds, the small flutter in your stomach that you wish would just stop.

“Yeah, he’s been chasing her for months, and she finally gave in. Probably the best thing that could’ve happened for both of them.”

A patron calls for your attention, and you gladly take the opportunity to escape the moment, throwing yourself into mixing a drink with practiced ease. But even as you pour and stir, you feel his eyes on you.

“You look happier here.” His voice breaks the silence when you return, the words almost lazy as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Fake happiness. It’s what gets the tips.”

“Okay, yeah, sure,” he says, leaning in a little, eyes narrowing. “But the way you’re moving back there—you know what you’re doing. I don’t think I ever saw you crack a single smile while we were on set.”

“I did,” you shoot back, feeling your pulse quicken. “Just none of them were directed at you.” The animosity in your tone surprises even you, and you catch the way his brow furrows, a flash of hurt crossing his face.

You quickly smooth it over with a smirk. “Besides, not much to smile about when people are getting fucked stupid in front of a camera.”

“Back to the familiar song and dance, huh?” His voice is steady, but there’s a sharpness beneath the surface.

You scoff, shaking your head as you wipe your hands on your apron. “What are you doing here, Javier?” This time, the question comes out more straight to the point.

He looks at you for a beat, partially confused, “Drinking a beer…”

“At this specific bar, where I’ve worked for two years and you’ve never once showed up until today. Why?” 

For a moment, the two of you stare at each other, locked in a silent standoff. He’s reading you just as you’re trying to read him, both of you too proud—or too scared—to make the next move. Finally, he breaks the silence.

“You want the truth?”

“That’s why I asked.”

“I’ve missed you, nena.”

Your stomach drops and you force yourself to keep your face neutral, but it’s hard. “I regret asking,” you mutter, glancing at your watch. Connie has fifteen minutes left on her break, then you’re done for the night. You’ll be free—at least from the bar, if not from the weight of this conversation.

“Ever since you left,” he continues, not giving you the out you desperately want, “I’ve been trying to figure out why you’re so standoffish. You say it’s because you don’t like me, but I just don’t think that’s true.”

“Well,” you bite out, “assuming has never gotten you anywhere worth being at, right?”

He rubs a hand over his mustache. He’s thinking, trying to find the right words.

“Right,” he finally agrees, tone softer now, more thoughtful. “Listen, I’ve never been good at the whole… talking thing. It’s been my downfall for as long as I can remember.”

Despite yourself, you give him a look that encourages him to keep going.

“And the shit between us? It’s weird. I’d like to move on, but I can’t. You’ve somehow managed to get into every fucking corner of my mind, and no matter what I do, I can’t shake you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You suck in a sharp breath, your fingers gripping the wooden countertop. His words hit too close to home because they echo the feelings you’ve been wrestling with since you walked away from him.

Do you admit it? Do you tell him that he’s been haunting your thoughts just as much? Or do you keep it all locked up, close to your chest, where it’s safe and won’t blow up in your face later?

“What do you really want, Javier?” You don’t have time for games, and if he’s here to throw another curveball into your life, you’d rather snip it before it gets any worse.

He pauses, running a hand through his hair, then looks back at you with an expression you haven’t seen in a while—one that’s sincere. “I just want a moment to talk to you,” he says softly. “No bullshit this time. Just you and me.”

You wrestle with yourself, unsure if you want to give in. You’ve heard him talk like this before, but something feels different. He seems like he’s laying all his cards out, but you’ve been hurt enough to know better than to let your guard down too quickly.

Your eyes flick to the clock on the wall, counting the minutes until your shift ends. You chew on your lip, deliberating with yourself, feeling the weight of his gaze on you as you try to make a decision.

Finally, after a beat, you let out a long breath and nod. “I’m off in twenty minutes,” you say, voice steady. “We can talk at my place, but this is the last time we have this conversation, Javier. No more of this back and forth.”

His face lights up, unmistakably relieved, and for a second, you see that glimmer of hope in his eyes. He sits a little taller, less tense, and his smile is soft but genuine. “Thank you,” he says, almost under his breath, like he wasn’t sure you’d agree. “I parked a few blocks down. I can come get you—”

You cut him off, pointing upward. “I live upstairs.”

Javier blinks, then chuckles, the tension between you easing slightly with that simple realization. “Oh,” he says, a little sheepish. “Okay.” For some reason, that small exchange makes both of you laugh—genuine, real laughter, the kind you haven’t shared in a while. It’s a brief moment of lightness before the weight of everything settles back in.

But before either of you can say more, you’re pulled back to the present as the place picks up with a small rush. The door swings open, and a few regulars take their usual spots, dragging you back into your role behind the bar. Javier moves out of the way, leaning back against his stool, watching you as you work.

It doesn’t take long for Connie to return, looking slightly disheveled, her cheeks flushed from whatever she and Steve were up to in the back. You raise an eyebrow, giving her a teasing smirk as she approaches. “Thirty minutes, huh? You sure you didn’t need forty?” You quip, poking fun at her the same way she did to you on Halloween night.

She narrows her eyes at you, but there’s a playful glint in them. “Shut up,” she mutters, straightening her apron. “You know I could’ve dragged it out longer if I wanted.”

You shake your head, chuckling as you hand over the bar to the guy coming in to replace you. Your shift is finally over, and you can feel the tension easing from your shoulders. With one last glance at the clock, you turn toward Javier, who’s still waiting, watching you with that familiar intensity.

“Ready?” you ask, your voice more casual than you feel.

He nods, pushing off the counter to follow you out. Thankfully, Steve had left, but as you pass Connie, you don’t miss the way her eyes widen when she sees the sexy guy trailing behind you. She gives you a look—half amused, half impressed—and you can practically hear her thoughts.

You give her a small wave, shrugging off her knowing smirk as you push through the door, stepping out into the cool evening air.

He follows behind you silently as you climb the narrow staircase to your apartment, the low hum of the bar fading with each step. You can feel his presence like a warm current, that quiet intensity that always seems to wrap around you when he’s near. The proximity makes you hyper-aware of every sound—the creak of the steps beneath your feet, the soft rustle of his jacket as he moves, his shaky breaths from his lungs working overtime due to his constant smoking.

When you finally reach the top and push the door open, you step aside to let him in. He takes a slow look around, his eyes sweeping over the small but cozy space. Despite its shabby appearance—the chipped paint on the walls, the secondhand furniture—it’s undeniably yours.

The throw blankets on the couch, the mismatched mugs on the kitchen counter, the books scattered about. It’s lived-in and comfortable, and you catch the way Javier’s lips twitch in what might be a smile as he takes it all in.

“Okay,” you say, arms crossing as you stand by the kitchenette, keeping a reasonable distance between you. “What now? We’re here. It’s just me and you. What do you have to say to me?”

He hesitates for a moment, running a hand through his hair like he’s bracing himself. Then, he just… spills his guts. “I want you to give me one chance. Just one date,” he says, the words tumbling out faster than you expect. “I know I’ve screwed up before, and I know I’ve been cocky, but… I like you. Like, really like you. More than I’ve let on.”

You blink quickly. You weren’t expecting this—certainly not Javier Peña, of all people, to stand in your apartment and confess to having a legitimate crush on you. “No way,” you mutter, in time with your thoughts, a nervous giggle escaping before you can stop it.

It sounds ridiculous in your head, and even more absurd out loud. He likes you? He doesn’t even know you!

His frown deepens, his jaw tightening as if your reaction stings. “I’m serious,” he’s insistent, his dark eyes locking with yours.

You shake your head, still struggling to process this. “You just got tired of screwing around with all the pretty stars, so now you’re going after someone different. Trying a new flavor of the month by chasing after a girl on the crew.”

“Technically, you’re not on the crew anymore—” he starts, but cuts himself off when he sees the daggers you’re sending him.

He steps a little closer, his tone quieter but more earnest. “You told me earlier that assuming has never gotten me anywhere worth being at. So take your own advice, nena, and stop assuming I’m chasing after you for all the wrong reasons.”

There’s no trace of his usual bravado, no cocky grin or smooth line to disarm you. Just sincerity. And it’s that, more than anything, that makes you pause. For real this time.

“So I’m not just someone to scratch off your list?” You ask, daring him to lie.  

“Wha— no.”

“You really mean it?”  

“Do I need to get on my knees to convince you I’m serious?”  

“That’d be the least serious thing you could do.”  

His mouth twitches up into a half smirk. “So? Will you let me take you out?”

This feels like if you so much as blink, the moment will dissolve—nothing but smoke and mirrors. 

“Okay,” you breathe. “But if it doesn’t work out… then that’s it. You don’t come around here again. You leave me alone. For good.”  

His eyes narrow, but he nods, accepting the ultimatum.  

“Fair enough.” His voice dips into something dark and velvety, a timbre that’s all too familiar. It’s the same voice you’ve heard behind the camera, in the tape that you got yourself off to—low, coaxing, a caress in itself. And damn him, it’s working on you again. “I promise, you won’t regret it.”  

“When?” You ask him.

“You’re the one who works weekends. You tell me.”

“Next Saturday?” You offer, trying to sound casual.

“It’s a date.”  

A flutter of nerves skitters through your chest and you almost laugh again, so giddy, but you clamp down on it.

“Alright... I’ll walk you out.” Your voice sounds awkward to your own ears, but your feet stay rooted to the spot. So does he.  

His gaze sharpens. “You know,” he starts, rubbing his jaw in that infuriatingly familiar way, “Robbie kept saying you ‘broke’ me after that Malibu shoot with Mariella.” He air quotes broke and your expression turns confused.

“Well… he’s an idiot.”  

“He’s not wrong, though,” Javi murmurs, stepping closer, the space between you vanishing.  

Your breath hitches. “Javi…” you warn, but it sounds weak—like a plea dressed as a protest.  

“You were right.” His voice dips again, softer now, but no less dangerous. “Sleeping with barely-legal girls felt... wrong. The whole scene was just fucked. It took me too long to realize it.” He leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “But that’s not what broke me.”  

Your pulse stutters. “Then what?”  

“You,” he whispers, moving closer, until the heat of his body presses against yours. “Your voice. Your eyes.” His gaze dips to your mouth, and your knees threaten to give out. “Those soft lips you won’t let me kiss absolutely fucking broke me.”

Your lower back presses hard against the counter, pinned by the sheer gravity of him closing in. His scent is dizzying.  

Your nipples harden, tightening with each shallow breath you take, the heat between you wrapping around your body like a fever. Now that you’ve stopped fighting it, the tide of lust pulls you under, dragging you into the undertow.

He can’t just say these things to you and expect you to remain sane. Especially not after all your wet dreams he’s been the star of.

“The others don’t do it for me anymore and I’m not popping a pill to get fuckin’ hard.” He cages you in, planting both hands on the counter at your sides. His arms flex, his body crowding yours, then he leans in, his nose brushing the tip of yours in the kind of touch that feels both too soft and too intimate.

“Just standing here with you…” His hips roll forward, pressing against you. The solid ridge of his cock rubs against your stomach through his jeans, and the friction sends a jolt of electricity straight to your core.

You gasp, lips parting as you go weak.

“Oh…” you breathe, shakily, your voice barely more than a whimper. You bite down on your bottom lip, trying to keep some semblance of control, but his gaze locks onto the movement.

“I want to take care of you, nena. Por favor.” His voice drips with need, every word laced with intent. “Let me make you feel good again. I need to make you feel good.”

Memories flash like lightning—the way his mouth felt between your thighs and how it left such an impression that you quit your fucking job (okay maybe not because of that necessarily but it was a butterfly effect)

“Javi…” Your voice is a strained warning, as you press your hand to his shoulder, ready to push him back if you needed to throw some metaphorical ice on this heated moment to chill both of you the fuck out. “I’m not going to fuck you right now.”

“I’m not asking you to…” His hand comes up to take yours at his shoulder into his, bringing it up to his lips to give it a gentle kiss.

God, you just about come right then and there.

“You want to go down on me again?”

He groans, his mouth grazing your knuckles as if tasting you again. “I’ll always want that. Always.” His voice is strained. “But tonight, pretty girl, I just—fuck—I need to feel you.”

“But you just said—”

“I know baby,” he cradles your face and you let him, horny out of your mind and absolutely under his spell. “Just let me put the tip in.”

“What?” You ask, moving back from him to stare up into his eyes.

“The head of my cock. Let me put it in and feel how wet and warm you are.” 

Your thighs clench instinctively, the ache between them growing unbearable. Images of his cock flood your mind—thick, veined, and heavy, flashing like a montage you can’t shake.

The thought of him, so close, pressing inside just enough to tease, makes your breath catch in your throat.

“I-I’ve never done that before... isn’t that—” You shake your head, struggling to wrap your mind around the idea.

“It’ll feel so good, I promise. If you don’t like it I’ll pull out and leave.”

His eyes still hold that sincerity from before, and it tugs at your heart, which has moved its pulse downstairs at the thought of feeling just a little bit of him.

It’s intoxicating, giving you the power to decide just how much of him you’ll take. How deep he’ll bury himself. How much you’ll let him fuck into you. 

A moan slips from your lips, unbidden, and his eyes darken, his jaw tightening at the sound. He’s holding back, but barely—waiting, craving, needing your consent like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality.

“Fuck,” you whisper, already lost. “Whatever, just do it. Do it before I change my mind.”

You squeal as he spins you around, your hands coming up to steady yourself against the counter.

You went out and bought a mini denim skirt after seeing it on the pornstar he fucked in the tow truck scene because you thought it was cute, and now you’re sort of living out that fantasy here with him as he pushes it up high on your hips, exposing your very lackluster underwear.

“Damn…” His hands are all over you, kneading your ass, the rough squeeze of his palms making you whine, back arching instinctively for more. “These are hot as fuck.”

Your cheeks heat up, because no way he thinks your mauve colored hipsters are hot.

He hooks his fingers under the waistband and drags them down your legs, letting them pool at your ankles. You step out of them, still in your sneakers, feeling utterly exposed. But the way he looks at you makes you feel desired.

With a firm hand, he presses against the small of your back, coaxing you into a deeper arch. His hands glide down your thighs, strong fingers gripping where your knee bends, lifting your leg and placing it on the counter. The shift spreads you open for him, your slick, swollen folds glistening in the dim light.

“Fuck...” His voice is pure gravel, rough with need, as he drinks in the sight of you. And then he drops to his knees, right behind you, and buries his face between your legs.

“Oh my—fuck!” you cry, jerking forward against the counter, totally unprepared for the onslaught of his tongue.

He doesn’t hold back—doesn’t ease you into it—just dives in like a man possessed, his mouth working you over with fervor. The obscene sounds of his tongue dragging through your wetness and the desperate groans vibrating from his throat make your head spin. You’re shaking, trying to catch your breath, but it’s useless with the way he devours you.

He licks every inch of your pussy, his tongue flat and broad one second, sharp and focused the next, flicking across your clit with precision. When he sucks the sensitive bud into his mouth, the wet suction sends sparks shooting through your body.

Your forehead thuds against the cabinet in front of you as you babble out his name in breathless, broken curses, pleasure building in tight, pulsing waves. Your legs tremble under his relentless attention, and it feels like he’s not just eating you out—he’s worshiping you, savoring every moment like a man starved.

“Javi—oh my—fuck!” You can barely string two words together, the intensity of it dragging you closer and closer to the edge.

His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he buries his face deeper, groaning like he can’t get enough of you. And god dammit, you love it. You love the way he’s lost in you, the way his tongue moves like he knows exactly how to pull you apart. It’s filthy, messy, perfect.

He pulls back after a few minutes, reluctantly breaking away from the warmth of you, even though every fiber in his body begs him to stay—tongue, nose, and fingers lost in your sweetness for hours, watching you unravel again and again. He forces himself to move, savoring the way your breath stutters in frustration at the loss.  

The soft metallic clink of his belt buckle being undone makes your heart race, and your pussy clenches reflexively, aching to be filled.  

“Mmm, she’s ready for me, isn’t she?” He’s so smug, watching the way your cunt flutters at the mere thought of his cock sliding inside you. Even just the tip.  

You don’t answer—you can’t answer. The anticipation has stolen every word, every coherent thought from your brain. All you hear is the pounding rush of blood in your ears.

Javier steps in closer, the heat of his body pressing against your back. His hand snakes around you, rough fingers brushing your chin before hovering just beneath your lips.  

“Spit,” he commands, his tone low and firm.  

Like the desperate thing you are, you part your lips without hesitation, letting a hot thread of saliva drip into his waiting palm.  

A deep, approving grunt rumbles from his chest. “Good girl.”  

Your cheeks burn at the praise, and you clench again as he takes your offering, wrapping his wet palm around the thick length of his cock. He strokes himself slowly, hissing through his teeth, the slick sound of his fist dragging over his shaft making your breath hitch.  

Then, without warning, you feel the velvety head of his cock glide through the slick folds of your cunt.  

Both of you shudder—your soft whimper mingling with his guttural groan.  

He drags the swollen tip along your slit, gathering your arousal, and when he nudges it against your throbbing clit, your hips jerk instinctively.  

“Relax, bella,” he warns, his hand tightening on your waist to steady you. “Unless you want me to bust my load all over this pretty clit right now.”  

That filthy mouth of his makes you want to slap him—and kiss him—until you both can’t breathe.  

He keeps teasing you both, swirling the sensitive head over your clit again, tapping it lightly against the swollen bundle of nerves. Your thighs tremble with need, and your pussy clenches again, desperate to take him inside.  

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice gravelly with restraint as he lines himself up with your entrance. “So fucking wet…”  

He tilts his hips just enough to press the head of his cock against your dripping hole, and you gasp, your body instinctively arching toward him.  

“¿Lista?” he whispers, his voice softer now, more intimate. He leans in, pressing his lips to the crook of your neck, trailing gentle kisses over your skin between ragged breaths.  

You nod frantically, not trusting your voice to form words.  

Then, slowly—achingly slow—he pushes the tip inside.  

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear.  

A sharp, breathless moan escapes you as he stretches you open, your cunt greedily sucking him in. The sensation is electric, overwhelming—just enough to tease, just enough to leave you craving more.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream. Why the fuck does this feel so good?

Javier groans, forehead pressed to your shoulder, his cock twitching inside you as he fights to keep from plunging deeper. “Puta madre nenita, this pussy esta tan rica.” 

He stills, savoring the way your tight heat wraps around just the tip of him. His blunt fingernails dig into the skin of your hips as he struggles to keep his hips from moving.

But you can’t help it. Your hips move on their own, rolling back just enough to take more of him inside, the smooth slide of his length sending sparks through your body. A whimper slips from your lips as your walls clench around what little of him you have, the stretch so good it has your eyes fluttering shut, your head tipping forward.

“Don’t. Fucking. Move,” he growls, low and dangerous, and the sound of it shoots straight to your cunt.

You whine softly, biting your lip, as he drags the inches you stole back out, leaving just the swollen head nestled at your entrance. The tease is unbearable, like dangling water in front of someone dying of thirst.

“Javi, I can’t help it,” you moan, the frustration bubbling over into a pout. Your hand drifts down between your thighs, fingers brushing your slick, needy clit. You need something—anything—to relieve the pressure.

His hand is lightning fast, grabbing your wrist and yanking it back to the counter. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He sounds almost offended.

“I need to feel something,” you whimper, shifting your hips desperately against him.

He clicks his tongue, as if scolding you, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re already feeling the head of this cock, aren’t you? And you’re still being greedy, trying to touch this pretty little pussy after I told you I’d take care of you.”

His hand slides from your waist, gliding lower, fingers hovering just above where you need him most. The promise of his touch makes your thighs quiver, and you let out a desperate little whine, arching your back in a silent plea.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands, his voice low and rough, thick with control barely held in check.

You know exactly what he looks like—jaw tight, eyes burning with hunger, teeth gritted as he holds back from sinking all the way into you. And it makes you ache even more.

“Touch me, Javi, please,” you beg, your voice a breathy, needy little mewl. You throw your head back against his shoulder, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, batting your lashes shamelessly.

A low, satisfied hum vibrates from his chest, and his fingers finally press against your slick, swollen folds. He groans softly as he feels how you’re stretching around the head of his cock, his fingertips tracing the puffy lips before circling lazily over your throbbing clit.

“Ohhh, just like that,” you moan, the sound slipping from you naturally, raw and unfiltered—nothing like the exaggerated performances he’s used to. This is real, and it only makes him harder.

“Fuck me,” he mutters, his breath hot against your neck, “I can’t wait to ruin this pussy, nenita. Gonna make you feel better than any malparido before me.”

His fingers keep working your clit, slow and steady, each stroke dragging you closer to madness. Your hips start to grind against his hand and the blunt head of his cock, desperate for more, for everything.

And the way he’s talking—like you’re his to wreck, his to please—makes you feel like you’ll lose your mind.

You suck in a sharp breath, feeling the jealousy dancing on his fingertips as he works your clit faster, his movements switching between precision and wild hunger.

He rolls the sensitive bud between his thumb and forefinger, pinching it just hard enough to make you gasp. Then, his touch softens—soothing circles, spreading your slick everywhere—before he tugs at your swollen nub, sending shocks of pleasure deep into your core, like fireworks are exploding down there.

“Tell me,” he growls, voice rough with possessiveness. “Did he fuck you good?”

The blunt tip of his cock stays snug at your entrance, and every pinch, every flick of his fingers makes your walls clench greedily around it, desperate for more.

“W-Who?” you whimper, genuinely lost in the haze of his touch. Your mind has melted, everything but the sensations he’s feeding you slipping away like vapor.

That answer pleases him—makes something wicked curl in his chest. His grin presses against your neck, and the wet heat of his tongue drags a slow, deliberate stripe along your skin. Then, he bites down, sucking hard, marking you in that one spot you’ve only ever dreamt of him nipping at.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he murmurs, voice dripping with satisfaction.

Your hand finds his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands, tugging hard enough to make him groan against your neck. The heat swirling in your belly tightens to a near-breaking point, your orgasm creeping up on you with every flick of his relentless fingers.

“Javi—fuck—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, voice breaking, sounding needy and pitiful.

“I know, baby,” he rasps. “I can feel her gettin’ all tight and messy for me. C’mon, nena, let it happen. I’ve got you.”

He keeps his pace steady—no sudden changes, no wild moves—just the same focused rhythm he’s built up, making your nerves sing, each flick and stroke a perfectly calibrated promise of release.

Your body responds like it always does for him: beautifully. His name falls from your lips like a sweet song. Your hips grind instinctively, chasing the steady friction of his slick fingers.

“More, Javi—oh, please—more,” you gasp, knowing exactly what you need, what only he can give you. You’re ready for him to shove deep inside, to fill you, stretch you, ruin you with the thick cock still teasing your entrance.

If you had said this maybe five minutes ago, he would have obliged, but he’s got a point to prove now. And that point is restraint—his self control.

“Not tonight, pretty girl,” he murmurs darkly, laden with lust and dominance. “You’re gonna come just like this.”

Then, without warning, his hand shifts, and he slaps your pussy—once, twice, three times. The sound is wet and obscene, and the sharp sting sends a shockwave straight to your core.

That’s what breaks you. Your orgasm crashes over you like a violent, unstoppable wave, ripping through your body with terrifying force.

“Fuck—Javi!” you scream, your walls fluttering and pulsing wildly around the head of his cock, soaking his hand in your release as your legs threaten to give out beneath you.

He groans, watching you unravel for him, every twitch and spasm feeding his ego. His fingers don’t stop—stroking you through the aftershocks, coaxing every last drop of pleasure from your trembling body.

Your vision swims, your breath coming in ragged gasps as the euphoria leaves you floating, weightless. And even though he hasn’t buried himself inside you like you wanted, somehow, this feels even more intimate—like he’s branded himself into you without needing to fuck you at all.

The way your pussy grips him sends a shudder down his spine, and with a strangled curse, his balls tighten, his climax hot on the heels of yours. 

“Fuck—” he groans, yanking his cock out just in time, the thick spurts of his cum painting your slick, swollen pussy, making a filthy mess.

Both of you pant, trying to catch your breath, the room heavy with the scent of sex. A sharp hiss escapes your lips as his fingers slide lazily through your soaked folds, mixing the remnants of both your pleasure. When he gathers the sticky blend on his fingers and brings them to your mouth, the hunger in his gaze makes your heart race.  

“Have a taste, baby.”

Without hesitation, you part your lips, taking his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them with obscene enthusiasm. You moan at the heady, salty taste—like liquid sin on your tongue. It’s addictive, and you suck greedily until his fingers are spotless, releasing them with a wet pop that makes his eyes darken further.  

You glance up at him over your shoulder, lips slightly swollen from your efforts. 

“You okay?” he asks, his tone soft.

You nod, still dazed, your pulse thrumming beneath your skin. “Better than okay. That was... wow.”  

His soft grin blooms into a cocky smirk, and he helps clean you up before gently moving your leg off the counter. As he tucks himself back into his jeans, you adjust your skirt, smoothing it down with shaky hands.  

“Where are my panties?” you ask, glancing around, still floating in the afterglow.  

He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling them out with a sly grin. “Oh, these?”  

You reach for them, but he swiftly lifts them out of reach.  

“I think I’ll hold onto them.”  

Heat rises to your cheeks as you narrow your eyes at him, but the lazy, satisfied smile on your lips betrays your mock indignation. “Why? Perv.”  

His grin widens, unabashed. “A little memento… to remind me of this. I’ll give them back next Saturday.” He slips them back into his pocket.

You roll your eyes, too blissed out to care. “I can’t believe we just did that.”  

He steps closer, wrapping his arms around you, the warmth of his embrace catching you off guard. After all the resistance you’ve given him, letting him hold you like this feels foreign.

“Told you it’d feel good,” he murmurs smugly, his lips brushing your temple. “Didn’t think you’d be the one to cave first and beg for the whole thing, though.”  

You scoff, giving his hip a playful pinch. “I got caught up in the heat of the moment, okay? You might’ve scored a date and... a semi-fuck, but I’m still sticking to those boundaries. For now.”  

“Does that mean I still can’t kiss you?”  

Oh, hell. He’s already been inside you—well, kind of. What’s one little kiss? But no. You’re trying to make a point here.  

“Nope,” you reply, stopping him with a finger pressed lightly against his lips just as he leans in. “Not until you buy me dinner first.”  

His smirk deepens, and instead of protesting, he kisses the tip of your finger. 

“Deal.”

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🏷️ : @almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories

@greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @persephone-girl .

🏷️ : @pasc4lfuzz . @sjc7542 . @almostfoxglove . @shy-taylorsversion . @theredvelvetbitch

@xxbadchoicexx . @lumpatto . @haylee-e . @yxtkiwiyxt . @guelyury . @itwasntimethatdidit40 . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @thundermartini . @correapunk .

[divinesangel]

— how does your destined person feel about you right now? [detailed]

pm me for an affordable, in-depth personal reading! — 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞!

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏

current energies: it's quite likely that this person is going through a lot right now, which is causing them to overthink and have so much on their mind. they seem to have been overthinking many things in their life that they’re still trying to figure out. they’re probably talking to others and getting advice, but deep down, they know it’s something they have to work on and figure out on their own. a lot has been weighing on their mind, especially when it comes to connections. it’s likely that they’re ending cycles or bringing closure to situations that have caused them pain or emotional turmoil. they want to put an end to that, and now they’re carrying the burdens that come with closure and moving on. even though it might sometimes feel overwhelming, they understand that this isn’t the end of the world. they believe that better things are ahead, and as long as they stay persistent and know how to play their cards, they’ll get through this. there are many things in this person’s life that they want to move on from because they know it’s not doing them any good, and it’s just affecting their mental health and well-being. these days, they’ve been focusing on taking care of themselves, paying attention to their own feelings and their heart. but sometimes, they feel conflicted about how to feel about certain people. it seems like they’ve gone through some really painful moments with others, and now they’re unsure how to think about it all. part of them craves a sense of justice, wanting those people to get what they deserve. but there’s also a part of them that’s naturally kind, trying to brush it off and move forward.

feelings: this person wants to be with you as soon as possible. they’re really excited to meet you and already have so much love for you. they constantly wonder who their distant person is, what you’re going to be like, how you’ll look, and if you’ll love them as much as they’ll love you. there’s so much affection and tenderness they hold for you, and it’s something they can’t wait to give. they don’t just want to give you their emotional side, but also their material side. they want to provide for you, give you everything you need, and buy you whatever you want. i feel that once you meet, this person will be quick to show you how they feel. they won’t just express it through words or affection but also through actions. this is someone who will make you feel deeply loved and show you just how much you deserve it. they’re very caring, very nurturing, especially when it comes to a connection as strong as yours, which feels almost like a soulmate bond. they’ll feel even more sure about pursuing you and moving forward with you. you make this person feel incredibly stable. when they think of you, there’s this sense that they’re already complete, that they’ve become the person they want to be. the thought of you brings them a deep sense of stability, likely because they already know this connection will be something special. they feel happiness when they think about it, and they know that meeting you will be a turning point in their life. they’re aware that they’re going through some rough patches in their life right now, but the thought of you brings them so much peace. they know that when they finally get to be with you, they’ll find the happiness they’re searching for.

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐

current energies: this person has been learning to feel more comfortable with themselves and finding contentment with what they have. it seems they’ve recently gone through situations that left them with a sense of lack, and now they’re trying to put the pieces back together. because of this, they’re beginning to realize their potential and finding emotional satisfaction from within, rather than seeking it externally. it’s likely that they’ve had a recent epiphany—a lightbulb moment—that shifted their perspective. they’re determined to leave behind past pains and situations they no longer want to deal with. this self-realization, that they deserve more and deserve to be happy, has sparked active changes in their life. they are very perseverant, and when they want something or are sure about it, they fight for it. they won’t let go unless they no longer feel like pursuing it or something significant happens. i feel like these days this person has been feeling quite confused about whether to pursue certain things or to let them go. it seems like they’re having a hard time distinguishing between what’s worth fighting for and what no longer has a solution. since they’re someone who really believes in fighting for what they want, it clashes with the idea of letting go. however, they’re starting to realize that there are aspects of themselves they need to change before moving forward with something new. right now, they’re in a phase of trying to understand that.

on the other hand, they’re also focused on creating a better environment for themselves, which involves their personal connections and friendships. they’re paying close attention to their circle of friends and acquaintances. it seems like there are some connections that have changed and no longer feel the same. they’re trying to figure out how to take action in this situation and how to let go of these feelings. deep down, they know that to feel better about these connections, they’ll need to let certain people go. overall, they haven’t been feeling their most stable, and they’re working through this to make things work in their favor. i'm hearing they might be attending someone's wedding too.

feelings: this person feels that your connection could be quite life-changing for them. it’s one of the things that draws them to you and makes them feel a deep, perhaps unconscious, attraction. however, when it comes to love, they might not be in the best place right now. they’ve grown up in an environment where those around them may not have been the best influences. because of this, they might have some toxic tendencies or have been involved with toxic people that they still need to move on from.

this awareness makes them think about you a lot. they are very conscious of the people they surround themselves with and the issues they need to leave behind. they worry that you might not like them because of their past or because of who they are now. they often find themselves wondering, "will they leave me once they get to know me better?" or "will they not want me because of my past behavior?" these worries definitely cross their mind whenever they think about you. in their heart, they truly want to give you everything they can, but they wonder if you will view this connection as fair, or if you’ll see their life as one that has been lived fairly. they don’t want to overwhelm you with all these details, so it’s likely they’ll open up to you gradually over time. they know some of their past actions weren’t ideal, and they feel regret and a bit of shame about that. they just hope you’ll still see them in a positive light once they share everything with you.

they’ve already been thinking about becoming the best version of themselves, but they need a bit of support or motivation to fully move out of their current mental state. they’ve been planning how to make these changes, so it’s just a matter of time before they put their plans into action. they’re really looking forward to this connection and have thought about you many times. they’re trying to stay optimistic about your future together and envision the best possible scenario. they’re aiming to avoid any negative thoughts, and they feel that once they’re around you and can communicate more, they’ll be able to express themselves fully and honestly. "i don't want to let them go" is how they'll feel.

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑

current energies: this person has recently wrapped up a very challenging situation. they’re going through a lot of endings right now, which is a bit uncomfortable for them, but they understand it’s for their highest good. it seems they’ve just ended a connection with someone they cared about deeply. however, they discovered that this person had been deceptive or dishonest, and once these secrets came to light, they decided to cut ties abruptly. this person is very confident and tends to sever connections quickly when they feel wronged or when a situation is no longer beneficial. they don’t dwell on their feelings but focus more on the other person’s actions.

right now, they’re very practical and are concentrating on their stability and finances. they seem to be working hard on a project or business venture that’s aimed at increasing their financial security. this project might be in its early stages but has been on their mind for some time, or it's an idea they’ve wanted to bring to life for a while. they have a strong grasp of how to navigate life and make the most of each situation, which can be quite impressive. they’re aware that not all situations will be ideal, but they believe it depends on how one reacts and how much one lets it affect them. in addition, their perspective of the world might be influenced by their travels or interactions with people from various countries, which is likely tied to their business. they’re feeling very content with their current state and the place they’re in. they’re fulfilled with how they’ve handled things and how everything has turned out so far. however, as i mentioned at the beginning of the reading, they’re going through something emotionally. being a hard-working and somewhat workaholic person, this might serve as their escape. they’re so adept at what they do and at coming up with great ideas that their work becomes a refuge from their emotional struggles. the validation they receive from others provides a sense of relief and makes them feel better about themselves. when they get positive feedback or when their projects succeed, it feels like the most important thing to them, overshadowing everything else. while they’re currently satisfied with their position, i wonder how much more they can handle, as they’re already carrying some burdens.

feelings: when it comes to their feelings towards you and your connection, they feel a strong desire to manifest whatever it is that you want. they are working to feel as stable as possible so they can give you what you deserve, both emotionally and physically. however, there’s a part of them that questions whether they truly deserve someone like you. they wonder if they are worthy of you and this has them feeling quite conflicted.

they have strong feelings for you, but they also grapple with self-doubt about whether they’re deserving of this connection. they want to keep you close, not in a possessive way, but out of a genuine desire to protect and cherish you. having been alone for a long time or having had less fulfilling connections in the past, they worry about whether they will know how to handle a relationship with someone like you.

stability is very important to them, and they value it not only for themselves but also for their partner, especially emotionally. when it comes to your upcoming meeting, they will likely feel overwhelmed and stressed, but this is more about their own nerves than anything related to you. they will be anxious about what to say or do, but they are also looking forward to seeing how things will unfold. they believe that things will happen in their own time, and once you both achieve closure and fulfill what you need in your lives, everything will fall into place and manifest as it should.

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 !

hi! it's daphne here.

i'm currently offering personal readings for €7 and soulmate readings for €14 so don't hesitate to send me a private message if you're interested!

thank you for being here!