#my brain was like we know this...but this time it's better

[archangeldyke-all]

STAY AT HOME MOM SEVIKA, like imagine coming back home from a gruelling day at work to Sevi and the kiddos it’s literally the dream. As a stay at home mom I feel like would be on your ass about cleaning up after yourself, she does NOT play around with the extra throw pillows on the sofa either. Oh and she literally chefs it up for us all days and night.

oh my god anon u rewired my domestic-fluff obsessed brain with this one holy fuck

men and minors dni

you've had a horrible fucking day.

your boss was an asshole all day, the coffeemaker broke before you could get a single cup, and with half of your co-workers sick with the flu, your workload was nearly tripled.

but when you finally turn down your street and see vi's car parked in your driveway, all your worries from the day disappear.

you can hear your girls screaming before you even get out of your car. as you walk into your backyard, you're greeted with a familiar sight: cait, vi, jinx, isha, and little fucker in the middle of an intense game of freeze tag.

little fucker forgets the game the moment you come through the gate.

"mama's home!" she squeals, sprinting up to you to launch yourself in your arms. you giggle and catch her, spinning her around a few times as you kiss her head.

"hi, lovey." you greet. isha hugs your hips. the girl's almost eleven now, but she's a late bloomer according to her doctors, and she still only comes up to your waist. "hi isha-bean." you greet, kissing her head.

jinx attacks you with a half hug, vi squeezes you all hard enough to lift you a bit, and caitlyn awkwardly joins in with a gentle pat to your shoulder.

you giggle with your arms full of your family. "fuck, it's good to be home."

"bad word, ma!" little fucker huffs. you kiss her again.

"we ran out of food at our apartment, so we decided to crash your dinner. hope that's okay." vi explains, giggling and scratching the back of her neck. you laugh.

"it's alright with me, it's the missus you gotta worry about." you joke, gesturing to the house.

little fucker squirms out of your arms and grabs isha's hand, pulling her back to the grass to play. jinx gives you one more squeeze before darting off to join them.

"sevika said it was alright. you know her, she only knows how to cook for an army, anyways." vi jokes. you giggle. it's true, your wife can never seem to make a small batch.

"alright, well i better go check in on her, make sure the twins didn't kill 'er." you joke. caitlyn laughs.

"vi-vi! hurry up!" little fucker whines.

c'mon cupcake! isha signs.

you laugh and shoo the girls away to play, walking into your home.

fuck, it smells delicious. sevika's made your favorite of all her recipies; and the house is sparkling and smells faintly of lemons. she fucking cleaned.

you might cry; just out of your gratefulness for her.

and then, two identical pitter-patters start, and your twins run into the room. "ma!" they shout.

"oh, hi my babies." you giggle, bending down to wrap your toddlers in hugs. you give both of them a kiss to their chubby cheeks. "how was your day?"

"isha took us to the park!" shithead shouts.

"an' auntie cait brought us new sparkle shoes!" stinkybutt adds on. you grin.

"auntie cait spoils you girls rotten." you say, tickling their sides. your daughters giggle.

"hey, come clean up your blocks if you're done playing! i almost broke my back trippin' over that shi-- you're home." sevika's rant is forgotten immediately, the offending block she'd held in her hands falling to the floor at the sight of you. you grin and stand up, your daughters running back to the living room to clean, you opening your arms for your wife.

she looks fucking adorable. she's still in her apron, she's got a smidge of flour on her face, and she looks so happy to see you.

"janna, i missed you." you sigh as you hug your wife. "did i ever tell you you're the love of my life? that i'd steal the moon for you?" you ask.

sevika giggles in your arms, pulling back just far enough to kiss you. you sigh against her lips. "you've mentioned it before, once or twice." sevika answers. you giggle.

"you look exhausted. the house looks fucking amazing and dinner smells great. why don't you take this off and let me take over for the night?" you ask, tugging on her apron. sevika pouts at you.

"you just got home from work."

"and all i wanna do is listen to you tell me about your day while i set the table for dinner. think you can do that for me?" you ask.

sevika grins and unties her apron. "you're too good for me." she sighs as she sits. you laugh.

"says the mother of my children."

"you are also the mother of my children, dumbass."

you grin and pinch her cheeks, forcing her lips in a pucker, and bending down to kiss her one more time. she hums happily.

"ma! vi-vi tripped over isha's bike and she's bleeding!" little fucker squeals from outside.

sevika groans and tries to stand. you laugh and push her back down in her chair, scratching her scalp just a bit. "stay." you demand.

"'s just a scratch!" vi's voice calls.

"on your face!" caitlyn shrieks.

"i love you more than words can describe." sevika sighs happily from her chair.

you laugh as you shove your shoes back on and rush outside, happy to be enveloped in the chaos of your home once more.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys

[stealingpotatoes]

POTES SEMI-LIVEBLOGS KOTOR!

ive been writing my thoughts in the notes app but due to popular demand (one person asked for it) i'm posting my liveblogging DO NOT SAY/TAG/COMMENT SPOILERS PLEASE i read tags

warning im a yapper, im 10 hours in and theres a lot already (separated into sessions):

SESSION 1

whos this clown i thought i would be playing as revan

ive been too spoiled by dragon age origins this character creator sucks ass

only human???? ): fr?? ill just imagine her different in my brain or some shit

my life is being mansplained to me. is this bad writing or do i have amnesiacs

hes meta now??? hes talking abt the screen controls?????

omg a jedi and an evil jediii

omg their asses suckedddd they both died immediately

i <3 bringing a sword to a gun fight

WHY R THERE SO MANY SITH WHERE IS TJE RULE OF TWO

i clicked a workbench and it said lightsaber so either i get a lightsaber or i get a jedi friend whose lightsaber i can steal if im careful

I assume u play as revan in kotor2 so im gonna buy that now so i can play it when im done playing w this clown

i got light side points im getting a good grade in game morality which is something both normal to want and possible to achieve

everyone keeps saying revan is dead but thats my friend revan from tumblr hes clearly alive. or they???

my characters ass is distractingly present onscreen

huge fan of the way everyone collapsed drunk what the FUCK was in that wine

ok these sith ppl might be the bad guys but their armour is DRIPPY AS FUCK

ideologically i dont agree w the sith but they kinda went off w the fits

googling how to become a sith without being evil cause they have Drip

SESSION 2

i paid £1.19 to see revan he better show up in this game at some point

all these sith n i still cant find one revan….. stop faking ur death rn come out n talk to me babygirl this isnt like u….

why can i be light/dark side if im not a jedi. give me a laser sword

maybe this jedi gyal will know where revan is faking his death. or give me a fuckin lightsaber PLEASEEE

was just thinking 'does this game have romance' and then carth called me beautiful. i dont think im gonna romance anyone until i get this amnesia sorted

why is carth questioning me so much abt the crash im pretty sure i have amnesia

why tf did the jedi lady have me transferred to this ship are we in lesbians with each other???

carth's not wrong it is suspicious but i lowkey have amnesia so i coulda done that i coulda not

a lot of clone wars voice actors in this. was lucasfilm so broke in the 2000s that they could only afford the same 3 VAs for every project

mission is 14??????? we need to get my girl back in school

SESH 3

tale as old as time i fucking suck at racing games

ok i didnt realise you had to mash click i won

REVAN!!! REVAN!!!!!!!!!

why am i dreaming abt revan tho. real as hell but ?????

lmao cringe revan getting blown up. i thought the jedi beat rev-meister in a fight but no. accident

"such visions are often a sign of force sensitivity" COOL YAY GIVE ME A LIGHTSABER

BASTILLE LOST HER FUCKING LIGHTSABER??

CARTH IS RIGHT THATS LIKE DAY ONE JEDI SHIT. ok i still love her even tho shes a bit of a bitch and also doesnt have a saber

if we find a lightsaber im taking it first tho

whys carth getting weird abt me being weird that he doesnt trust me. i just wanna be friends mate

SESH IV: A NEW HOPE

'i mean no disrespect, but perhaps one of the male slaves could serve you better' i went in here to start a slave revolution and instead got called a lesbo

LMAO THERES A SPICE LAB???? WALTER WHITE WHERE ARE YOU

thats insaneee they blew up BILLIONS of people to get to one jedi?????? these sith arent fucking around theyre scary

UM THIS IS CRAZY GRAPHICS THE LIGHTING IS CLEARER/DARKER WHEN I COVER THE SUN W THE SHIP EDGE?? 2003 IS THE YEAR OF THE FUTURE

someone just called me padawan i kinda assumed i was in my late 20s do i just have baby vibes

all the jedi in the movies are so chill but every kotor jedi i've met so far has been a bit of a bitch

YO THEY HAVE A YODA!!! its not THE yoda but

cool so these guys are just the regional managers at best. your asses are not the council

why can everyone smell my force juju so strong

THATS STRAIGHT UP YODA'S CLONE WARS VA

why does fake yoda not blink both eyes at the same time. im calling him master tortimer he reminds me of the animal crossing mayor

bastila there was no need for such a fancy bow

malak is like evil aang

revan is so much shorter than malak omg

are me and bastila sharing dreams. are we both obsessed w revan

poor mission ):

WHAT WAS MASTER TORTIMER ABT TO SAY????????? EVER SINCE WHEN??? DID WE KNOW EACH OTHER BEFORE MY AMNESIACS????? DID BASTILA TELL U SMTHN MORE WHEN I WASNT IN THE ROOM???

im intrigued i like this whole hidden jedi shtick its very compelling. so is whatever theyre hiding from me

kinda surprising no jedi found me before tho given my force juju is so strong

IM A LEGIT JEDI NOW??? SICK!!!

does revan rlly not have pronouns i thought that was a tumblr thing but they straight up are a nonbinary icon ive never heard a single pronoun used. revan's pronouns are revan/revan's

damn revan seems so cool in these stories (charismatic war hero that convinced their troops to join them as conqueror?? julius caesar) and yet all we've seen them do onscreen is get blown up and die by accident

A YEAR AGO? the way they were talking i assumed revan died like. a week before the game started

master uh i forgot his name he has martin scorcese vibes said revan was a paragon of the jedi so what im getting is that all jedi gifted kids turn evil

even if i didnt know revan as a tumblr darling id KNOW revan has to be alive somewhere they way everyone talks abt them is too cool for a character who exploded and died. i think. i hope. I PAID £1.19 TO MEET REVAN

'only you and bastila can stop malak' seriously????? just us two?? ive been a jedi for like, 6 minutes and you guys keep calling bastila young???? do you guys not wanna help??

omg im getting carth to traumadump! <3

HE WAS ON REVAN'S ARMY>??

i totally knew the jedi code and did not have to google it whatsoever

they rlly said fuck going to illum heres a crystal from the bin

he told me id be a great sentinel and i was like i know but i want blue cause i dont wanna be matchies with bastila

OGH!!! I HAVE A LIGHTSABER!!!! THIS IS GAME OF THE YEAR!!!!

omg i made my lightsaber perfectlyyy which is rare <3 getting a good grade in jedi

maybe i was a travelling lightsaber salesman before my amnesia

seriously though WHO was i everyone's kinda stopped acting like i have amnesia since the first mission BUT IVE PLAYED DRAGON AGE THAT GIVES YOU OPPORTUNITIES TO RP UR PAST. THIS DOESNT. EITHER THIS GAME IS BAD (but i love it so its not) OR I HAVE RETROGRADE AMNESIA

also everyone keeps being like "Oh ur force juju is so strong" AND NOBODY FOUND ME TIL NOW??? suspicious. did getting a really bad concussion activate the force in me

im too confused and amnesiac'd to think abt anything except the fact i have a glowing stick now

FSESH FIVE:

big fan of using aliens to avoid having to get VAs to read every line

oh so carth's boyfriend saul betrayed him and became leader of the sith fleet so he has trust issues

well he needs to calm down. i can't betray him cause i dont know what the fuck is happening

yooo i love the design differences on the mandalorians

oh my god this lady wanted to fuck her droid cause it was her husband's. and then it killed itself. wtf. game of the year tho

wtf they jebaited this juhani person into going dark side but then i talked her out of it. that seems a bit mean of them

i hope she can join my party she looks too unique to be a random npc

ive been thinking and I might be going crazy but there was a loading screen tip ages ago that said jedis could wipe ppl's mind and all i thought at the time was 'fuck the shitshow acolyte didnt make that up'. but what if one of them wiped MY memory and i used to be a jedi or smthn ????????

cause they keep being like ur weirdly good at this??? did bastila steal my memories??????????

I KNOW I HAVE AMNESIA!! EVEN IF EVERYONE DOESN'T BRING IT UP BC THEYRE PROBABLY TRYING TO SAVE MY FEELINGS

if i dont have amnesia and im just deeping the fact the opening had my life being mansplained then im gonna look real stupid

anyway time 2 go to the fuckshit ruins cave where r-dog and malak went to

"it must be referring to revan. the dark lord and malak--" revan's pronouns are revan/thedarklord

bastila said theres no mention of the Builders in the archives. does she just know every text off by heart

THIS DROID IS 20K YEARS OLD ???

omg i can equip 2 lightsabers at once. game of the year

OK I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I SAID ABOUT THE AMNESIA BASTILA IS ASKING ME QUESTIONS ABOUT MY BACKGROUND THAT I CAN ANSWER. I REPEAT I DO NOT HAVE AMNESIA

ok i didnt get choices and i didnt really uh… say anything that i didnt already get told im still not ruling out amnesia

also booo i didnt get to find out how old i was

master tortimer rlly looks like the ultimate ketamine yoda

LMAO THERE WAS A DIALOGUE OPTION 2 CALL JUHANI A CATGIRL

omg kashyyk from jedi fallen order!!!

I CAN UPGRADE MY LIGHTSABER THIS IS JUST LIKE JFO

omg this ship is fun i wish everyone had personalised bunk spaces like hfw… a game which came out 19 years after this i should probably just take what we have

im gonna start w manaan cause im p sure thats what B-dog said n its the same language the droid was speakin

omg hyperspace from star wars

THE GUY THE BUILDING FELL ON???

am i having dreams abt revan bc bastila killed revan and im connected to her this is so roundabout

maybe i'd sleep better if my ponytail wasnt clipping into the pillow

[kiwi accent] six

carth needs a xanax every time i think we're friends he stops trusting me

also lmao he actually pointed out how wild it was that a day one padawan is being sent on this uber important mission and HES RIGHT IT IS WEIRD!! i thought it was main character logic but he's calling it out

i really really like the sense of unease that's setting in like at first i thought it was just cause im not used to 2003 games but no this is on purpose bc carth my friend carth keeps calling it out

THERE IS A CHILD ON MY SHIP ??????????????????

lmao the representative for menaan is roland wann. its like poetry it rhymes

there are no cameras in the sith hangar <3 rookie error i can commit crimes now

bastila's favourite hobby is getting shot and walking into my grenades

this isnt a combat system this is a missing system

I GOT ARRESTED???? IM JUST A GIRL

nvm i had a datapad that said the sith were evil so theyve let me go free and we're besties

why do i feel like ive just walked into an underwater horror mission

this suit waddles at the speed of a penguin on fentanyl

i tamed the beastie this is like how to train your dragon

MALAK FIRED ON REVAN?????? WERENT THEY BEST FRIENDS???????

but maybe revan escaped when bastila wasnt looking THEYRE FINE THEYRE OUT THERE SOMEWHERE. I BELIEVE

so hopefully when we run into revan they'll be like agh i changed my ways cause of the being shot thing and they'll be my bestie

great news i successfully communicated w the ship child and gave her back to dantooine. my girl has shockingly good linguisitics skills

bastila is so dour "oh watch out for the dark side" GIRL I AM. I NEED TO GET THE BEST GRADE IN GAME MORALITY

ok OFF TO KASHYYK i hope cal kestis is there… thru the force i guess… bc he wont be born for another 4000 years but its whatever

omg you'll never guess what. another vision. wow its one of the thangs. cool this is a tomorrow me problem

[themareverine]

Bond Girl, part 1 | patch!Logan x fem!reader | themareverine + bpmiranda

synopsis: the first adjective that leapt to mind the second she’d seen such a thing—obscene. like bait from the possession of man everyone here knew to more vile than any beautiful thing could be. because, if Logan is anything, it’s beautiful. and his taste in jewelry? immaculate.

warnings: patch!Logan, flirting, suggestive themes, part 1 of a co-written little thing with @bpmiranda (surprise!), casino atmosphere, booze, gambling, language, nameless!fem!reader but mentions of curls and blue eyes, ⚠︎.

a/n: save me, Patch!Logan, save me! I can't get away from this idea and my absolutely insatiable lust for this man, ROFL. this idea hit me the other day and after conversing with @bpmiranda, I knew we had to write this. big thanks for her for 1) being phenomenal, 2) listening to my ramblings, 3) jumping on my Patch train, and 4) deciding to collab! ahhhh! my part is done, but hers is coming and will, most likely, be NSFW and probably SO FAR AND AWAY BETTER. and yes i got carried away with context what else is new ROFL get on our taglists for updates!

She isn’t usually one to go for something so—obscene. 

Not that the idea of fine jewelry, really, should be considered obscene. It’s honestly an insult, something so beautiful tethered to a negative connotation. It was the farthest thing from obscene. Just simply the first adjective that leapt to mind the second she’d seen it, dangling elegantly like bait from the possession of man everyone in here  knew to be more vile than any beautiful thing could be. 

Because, if Logan is anything, it’s beautiful—and his taste in accessories? Immaculate. 

“It’s too expensive,” the absolute glint that passed through his eyes sparkled almost as clearly as the stone, catching light like starlight coupled, somehow, with sun, “you really shouldn’t have, Logan.” Cool against the flaming embarrassed scarlet chasing up her neck, he was deliberately slow. Rough hands skipping along her décolletage sent shivers down the length of her spine, numb beneath the wolfish gaze staring back at her in the mirror. Fingers reaching to brush along the face of the stone, it felt heavy. 

“I didn’t,” he sounded so pleased with him, chuckling in that low way that sent her brain pulsing, “poor bastard’s wife is probably pissed, huh?” His hands are more caring than she ever thought possible, clasping the necklace into place. Watching her swallow her own breath, her eyes only skip up to his when his hands find the back of her chair, leaning forward to brush his mouth along the shell of her ear. 

“Can’t imagine it lookin’ as good on anyone else as it does you, sugar.” 

At least two carats, it’s basically a small nucleus of sunlight, sparkling against her pale décolletage, its radiance only challenged by the offset of what she can only assume is a platinum bezel. Gently rubbing the stone between her fingers, she releases a slow breath that shakes more than she would’ve liked, but comes from her core. His hand brushing along the strap of an equally breathtaking gown only exaggerates her inability to breathe evenly, and she swears to God the color racing up her neck deepens. 

“You won this?” turning in her seat, she gently pushes him back with a hand to his chest. “In cards? You always play for cash,” without flinching, she probes for an answer—Logan never bets collateral. He always plays for money, or, on occasion, information. It was how she’d come to know Patch—the man of Madripoor. In all her months of watching him play, she’d only ever seen him accept collateral one other time, and she protected the Van Cleef bracelet on her arm nearly with her life. “It has to be worth a small fortune,” quietly she turned back to the mirror, slightly entranced by its brilliance.

He chuckled, “Not small enough,” his finger brushes a tendril of curl hanging from the simple pins at the base of her neck, “Wasn’t thinkin’ about how much it cost, sweetheart. Too busy imaginin’ you wearin’ it to bed,” His hands skim down the neckline of the dress, an elegant yellow satin slip cut dangerously up the thigh, thin and leaving mostly nothing to imagination, “but I guess this’ll do for now, hm?” 

Willpower of the gods had somehow propelled her out the chair, hand in his as he’d tugged her against his chest. Arms fortressing around her softness, holding her closer than sin. She finds herself lost under the heavy of his gaze, even as her fingers trail up the sleeves of his suit jacket. Crisp as snow, it cuts him perfectly, as if designed for him and him alone. He’s warm, chasing away the slightly chill that pebbles the skin of her arms, the A/C of the hotel suite more tangible than ever. 

“For now,” she’d echoed with a small smile, amusement passing through her tone. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll ask you about that active imagination of yours later.” Hand finding his cheek, she guided him into a slow, unhurried kiss. “You feel lucky tonight, Lo?” Words murmuring against his lips, his head angled to deepen the kiss, slanting his mouth over hers.

His chuckle was light, entertained as his fingers traced along the straps at the back of her dress, “Ain’t about feelin’ lucky, sugar,” tipping her chin up, he smiled at her darkly. “But if it makes you feel better, you bet.” 

Absolutely obscene. 

He’s still as perfect now as he had been hours before, draping a once-in-a-lifetime diamond around her neck, sitting in the low haze hovering in a smothering, thin veil about their casino’s air. Their casino—the gambling house they’d called home for the entirety of her sojournings at his side. Walls and floors that knew their secrets, hallways that saw parts of them no human, probably, ever would. 

Madripoor was beautiful, a stunning land with its own cultures rich with wonder and charms untouchable to nearly sunlight—it was not a difficult place to land, to count off the fingers of time. Especially for a man burying secrets in shallow graves of earth and unknowns. Abundant with vibrant color, pulsing atmosphere and the adrenaline of living, its wellspring of anonymity was wanting, attractive in a way any other nowheresville wasn’t. Logan had established himself as a man of countenance in these streets, specifically this house—a man of power, strength. Gall, courage. Unkillable, untouchable, wholly wondrous. 

Countenance. His reputation preceded him—whether as a badge of honor, a curse of death, or a last-nail coffin truly, honestly, depended on whom one would ask. Bodies jumped under tables beneath the steel of his gaze, the earth opened up to consume lesser beings. Flurry of opinion wasn’t uncommon, if you asked around the shadows and dripping neon of the city— bodies in this quarter of the city produced a cocktail of options for poison. Akin to asking which band champions in NOLA at the height of Mardis Gra, the hair of the dog hours—good thoughts weren’t anorexic around here, weren’t starving for air to give them life.  

All had an opinion. Scant few actually held water. 

Madripoor trembled with the respect wise men hold for phantom’s when he strode into a room. People knew, just from him cutting the doorway of the casino floor, that “Patch” was not an easy dance. Garnered a respect she’d never seen so freely offered to anyone else, dignitaries were not so often well noticed. Logan half expected the room to whip around to eyeball him he was so aware of his own presence, but not in the way one would think—not in the sense of ego or pedestal, high-horses. Never.

“Same feelin’ you get shiverin’ down your back when you think you're bein’ watched, sugar—just the way it goes when guys like me make an entrance.” 

Logan rarely made an entrance—Patch, even less so. Exits were more his thing, honestly. 

But far and away, Madripoor had signed and delivered its standing opinion on the man with an patch, the man from the north—the man nobody could touch, whose face shadows didn’t find. For four decades he’s been frequentlying this place, blowing in and out like the steam over bayous and still water, never aging a day. Always stalking, always collected. In blood it screamed, up and down the streets, this province’s opinion—You bet on Patch, and you have your man.  

And tonight is no different. While Logan may not be an easy man to dissect with discernments, he is an easy bet. Easier, yet, to watch. Even at the bar, across the floor—where light is golden and soft, the air is thick with smoke. Music that has been hastened for generations spins through the air like dreams, summoning atmosphere and charm into the room like a sweeping arch of divinity.

It had become some kind of twisted religion, almost worship. Watching him rake fools over hot coals at this same casino table, when starlight strikes and the sun drips from the sky like slow poison. It’s like a killing hour, almost—the scent of blood and money hang in the air like calling cards, tantalizing sirens. It is the same dance, similar songs each night they grace this room—Logan seats himself at the card table. He orders whiskey, a cosmopolitan for her. Lights a cigar, asks the floor manager for a tab. Taps the corner of his mouth with a thick finger for her kiss, kisses her harder than she would expect from him—takes cash he slips into the neckline of her dress, “You keep here, darlin’, and also like always, he’ll take her chin between calloused fingertips, “gotta keep my lucky little thing closeby—’ma jealous fuck, sugar. Don’t go runnin’ off.”  And the answer is always the same—

“Where else would I be?” 

Certainly nowhere else could hook, line, sink her soul like that little quicksilver of a smile he throws at her—the way his gaze rakes over her frame, dissecting every bend and curve like a creature worth studying. Like he hasn’t known every part of her, explored each plane and territory of her skin, her soul. Logan has known her up until the half of her soul, possesses parts of her she’ll never return to—he takes more than money, on nights when he looks at her like this. More than information or courage or a man’s dignity—he takes her. Everything she possesses, balances it between his fingers, bleeding and raw, like it is a plaything and circus.

And really, she thinks, there could be no better thing under the sun.  

 At some point in all of this, she’d wondered, early on, if it would be like this, always. Running with him. Stalking lines, scouting out survival and nexts—spidering in gigs only to feast on the blood of the innocent unsuspecting. Vampires of opportunity, of fortune. She’d learned in short shit that, while the game is always the same, the wonder was in the stakes—it’s never about the game. 

Balance of power is always found in what one is willing to lose in the chance to gain.

“Something new, mi encanto?” 

Her chair sings a little as she adjusts to swivel back around to the bar, smile soft as she considers the surprise glass of something slipping her direction across an elegant, seen-everything bar. Warm eyes consider her, Dominic’s expression soft and entertained as he stereotypically slaps his rag over his shoulder, driving home a subliminal point. 

Canting her head softly to the side, she dips her finger into the crystalline booze, allowing it to gently float around the cool zing of alcohol and promise of a buzz that will warm her spine. Her finger gently traces the rim of the fine glassware, gaze tracking to the clock above the bar. It’s been two hours—two hours parked at the bar in a dress the color of sunlight, watching. Drawing the attention of every dick and eye this place produces. A pretty sentinel over the reputation and suppositions of a man rumored more to be a god than mortal, she’s little more than a trophy in this room—Logan’s trophy. Patch’s pretty little thing. 

Hardly more than eye candy, little less than pornographic imagery—she’d quelled a few looks of new faces unaccustomed to the goings-on of this house, of its finer workings. Didn’t take much more than a sharp lift of her leg over the other, a nod of her chin towards the table—rare cases demanded she actually leave her perch at the bar and make an effort to fill in the program gaps. Coming up along his chair, lingering touches on his chest and shoulder—the occasional slow, sloppy kiss between hands of poker, blackjack. Little else drove the point home so deeply, coffins and nails.

 She’d only ever been broached by the brave who had never returned—most were warned. If not by circumstance, then by Magnolia y Pecado staff—she was off the table. A no-go. Off limits. Hands off, don’t touch the pretty thing who parts her legs for the man everyone in Madripoor knows as Patch. If they only knew of him what she does, they’d think so differently. 

‘All bets off when you’re mine, sugar.”

“Gracias, Dominic.” 

She doesn’t ask what it is, Dominic understands her taste. Quite the working relationship they’d developed over the months of her making this bar her second home. Always thrilled to see her but rarely surprised, Dominic worked twelve hour days. Five daughters, his adorable, busy-bee and as-sweet-as-honey wife expecting a hopeful son—the only friends she had in the city. Inés was responsible for half of her wardrobe decisions, much of her makeup. Often her rambunctious gaggle of ribbons-and-curls girls ran about this casino during business hours, passing time in the pool, in the gardens.

 Glass chilled between her fingers, she takes a light sip of the cocktail, brow lifting as the tropical kick spins around her tongue in a lovely zing that makes her smile. Lifting it, she takes a bolder sip, “That’s brilliant, Dominic,” her smile grows, and she wrinkles her nose, “what is it?” 

He chuckled, “Jungle bird,” beginning to vigorously rub at a stain in the grains of the wood, “clarificada—clear. Mi amor’s only drink,” winking at her, his smile is bright but quickly fades as his eye moves over her shoulder, tracking movement. 

All too suddenly, Dominic’s spine towers tall. Heart skipping for only a second, his movements become cut, slow. When he nods across the floor, chin lifting as his hands begin flying beneath the bar—effortlessly, she knows he prepares the familiar short glass. A distraction, certainly, but calculated.  She’d never understand his practiced anticipation of needs, but forever appreciate them, “Problema, mi Cariño,” his eyes cut over to her sharply, long pouring a multiple-seconds finger of Redbreast, “looks as if there’s trouble, Miss Patch.”

Miss Patch. Common amongst the staff, it carried a responsibility she wrestled with more than she’d be willing to admit—belonging to someone was a place she’d never imagined for herself, much less Logan, but the irony isn’t lost on her, either. Everything she’d never thought for herself, everything she’d ever fantasized in high fantasy and dreams—all one ball of wax, a bed of roses. 

Name not lost, her stomach flares with a pinprick of alarm, heat spreading through her blood despite the pebbles of chill racing across her skin. Glancing over her shoulder, she tucks her chin. Tracking, eyes skirting the game currently underway at the long, gorgeous felt table. Remnant’s of Dominic’s Jungle Bird sings on her tongue, punching low in her stomach a sort of sweet that almost stings, watching Logan at the head of the table begin slipping out of his expensive suit jacket. 

The slightest glance over his shoulder is all the greenlight she needs, dark hair glinting almost sapphire under the right lights, the trembling wire of tension in the air. Nearly misses his hand at the side of the chair, fingers snapping for her to come hither. 

Taking the Redbreast between her fingers, her own drink in hand, her little sigh is amused. Follows a light chuckle, there’s a breathlessness she can’t quite put a finger on. The idea of being summoned isn’t all that distasteful—it’s wicked, what it does to the depths of her womb. 

“And there’s my cue.” The smile she cuts to Dominic is wry, words dismissive, almost airy—something is off at the table. She can see it in the shifting eyes of the men across the felt, the way Logan rolls a shoulder. 

Steely tension snaps at the air like a rabid wolf, hungry and slavering as it devours any sense of control she feels, usually, with the man she knows as Wolverine so near to heart. Usually he keeps a good handle on things—and he maybe does, maybe this is deliberate. But the precipice feels shaky, being on the outside looking in— like balancing on a livewire above swirling oceans. 

Slipping from her stool, her hand smooths over the satin of the gown, bending slightly to straighten material teasing the floor around her feet in a tastefully cocktail,  elegant train. Foot over foot she minds the height of her heels, floorspace between the bar and table vanishing beneath her approach. 

Another small drink, eyes drifting over the table—her nail gently ting, ting, tings against his glass between loose fingers. Meeting the gaze of men whose attention lifts to her arriving at Logan’s side is easy, all she has to do is offer a teasing, flirtatious upturn of his lips. Of doe-eyed light and oh, hi. Easily she offers the cool Redbreast, gently nudging it against the back of his hand as her hip comes to rest against his chair—Logan’s attention doesn’t cut from the study of his cards, brow lifted, easily. 

Unmoving, chuckling across the table lifts her gaze over the rim of her glass as she teases her drink for a second time. “My my, Patch, my friend — pretty little thing you’ve got there, at your beck and call,” she sums him up quickly, falling back in his chair. Shifting his hips forward, like he’s got a twitch in his dick at the sight of her dipping backline, “You are one surprising sonuvabitch, I’ll give you that.” Wolf whistle off his words accompany the  shake of his head, eyes lingering over the curve of her hip longer than necessary. “Pretty things here, in Madripoor—where can I find one’a you, honey?” 

“Didn’t think there were any more like me,” she counters with a little giggle, winking at him. Her hand comes to rest on Logan’s shoulder, tracing the hard line of muscle beneath his milkwhite shirt. Teases along until her hand gently curves along his chest, between the unfastened buttons, “Thought I was limited edition.” Dropping low, her lipstick catches the bristle of Logan’s beard in a slow, heavy kiss to his jawline, sharp eyes holding the man fully entranced with her show across the felt of the table, “Gotta pay to play, huh, baby?”

 Bodies around the table shift uncomfortably, the man to Logan’s left practically on the verge of either an aneurysm or cardiac arrest, either is possible considering the size of his beer gut and the unhealthy sweat soaking into the band of his Stetson hat—Texas, mogul. Married, probably. Or at least feeling a level of guilt. The man to their right, complete in a look that’s so Miami it hurts—designer white pants, loafers. What appears to be a silk shirt tucked in, unbuttoned, in a flamingo pink that’s so ambitious it makes her smile. She couldn’t even determine his eye color, his eyes were still welded on the swell of her ass. 

They’re so easy, men. One look at a pretty thing, a little batting of the eyes — they were so painfully predictable, Logan had been right. He’d taught her everything about this game, this back-and-forth. How to make them drool, how to make them ache, to worship at her feet. The perfect equalizer, the best distraction—give them what they don’t know they want, “And all their walls come crumblin’ down, honey—that’s what you do.” If he weren’t a better man—if Logan weren’t hers, he’d be eating out her palm just as much as any of them. 

But she belonged to him, a tight leash she shortened seemingly by night. 

“All depends on the game,” he bites at his lower lip, “what’s my grand prize, mi amor?”  He butchers Spanish almost as badly as he butchers atmospheres, and it would make her chuckle, the way he masks his obvious desire behind a hand rubbing around his mouth. Instead it just makes her roll her eyes, tease her nails along Logan’s chest hair carefully beneath his shirt. Heat pummels off of him like a locomotive, even with his jacket shedded. “You like to play games, do ya, sweet thing?” 

Logan’s gaze snaps up from his cards, viciously. Beastially. 

“Easy, bub. Ain’t nice to fuck with another man’s property.”  

It rumbles low, wolfishly in his chest. Sharp chill launches down her spine like a needle, injecting poisons into her veins that begin to melt her self control. Logan rarely ever labeled her so basely in front of other men—it was not his routine. He had, in other times, when context demanded he whip out his dick for measure— she didn’t have details. Admittedly she’d been too distracted with Dominic and drink tasting throughout the night to pay attention to this game, to know if Logan had anything working over this gig. All she knew was from what little pillow talk he’d offered this morning, after burying his cock nearly to her ribs and rearranging her abdominal cavity.

Information. Information, baby—it’s all about connections. And oh—that’s right. It tracks around her brain in a sharp, white-hot loop. Information, Logan wants information. 

 A patch may well cover most of the animation of his eyes, but it is evident, the darkness—leers like a predator, hunting. Watching. The corner of his mouth ticks up, muscle in his jaw pulling as he eases back into his chair, loosens a shoulder. Logan may as well scent this man’s blood and call it a day, she thinks, but instead his quicksilver smile grows as the man puts down his cards in front of him, resting elbows on the table. 

“Ease up there, ace,” his hands open in a slow arc of easy, I’m-just-playing settle-down, “Only teasin’.” His accent is remarkably unbalanced, a little of something she doesn’t know, more of a part of the world she’d never heard. Logan takes his drink from her hand, tosses it back sharply, and the glass finds the table with a harder-than-necessary crack, “You payin’ to see my cards or what, old man?” 

“Keep your dick on, would ya?” Logan grabs her hand from between the buttons of his shirt, prompts her forward with a sharp tug, Jungle Bird in her hand upset like a child’s bathwater. And before she can think, Logan’s big hand grabs her chin tightly between thick fingers, “Kiss for luck, sugar?” His breath hot with whiskey sends her reeling, heat between her legs an inferno only ever matched at Vesuvius. 

God he was hot when he was pissed off and all possessive. 

A little nod of her head ticks up the corner of his mouth, his eye tracking down to the perfect curve of her mouth highlighted by lipstick the color of blood in her veins. A growling chuckle from the base of his ribs has him kissing her, deep and hard, tongue skipping along her bottom lip—in heartbeats he manages to make her breathless, every fiber burning as she shares his taste, allows him to rip a hungry little moan that knifes her right in the gut. 

“Tastes good,” he murmurs against her lips, “you’re doin’ so good.” 

Unsure whether to thank or bite him, she manages a small smile against his mouth while her hand skips low, to the low heat  between his legs. Nursing a semi nobody would ever suspect from otherworldly levels of cool-as-a-cucumber, her nails gently bite into the meat of his thigh. For a second his hiss skips her pulse, suddenly  at a loss against his mouth. 

Collecting quickly, “Trust me, baby,” and she adds the bite she knows he loves to her touch, “I know.” 

If anyone heard his barely-there, punched out groan, hell would sooner freeze. Satisfied with himself, he breaks first, giving her cheeks a rough squeeze before lightly shoving her away. A little proud, mostly for show. He’s mean in the best way possible, in the way she’s come to lust for. Treating her like a brat, worshipping the ground beneath her feet—it’s a delicate tango they do on the blades of alias and fun, of future and fortune. She’d come to crave it, a high she’d never escape. Laces adrenaline through her like a freight train, feels safe and dangerous all in one big ball of inexplicable, never-want-to-leave way. 

Swiping at the lipstick a kiss on his cheek has left behind, she throws an easy glance across the table to the three men who stare, nearly agog, at her. “Best of luck, gentlemen,” bending to kiss Logan’s cheek with a mock sugar sweetness almost too saccharine to be true, she tosses back the rest of her Jungle Bird.

“May the odds be never in your favor.” 

@sidkneeeee

@thevoicefromanotherworld

@misscrissfemmefatale

@eternallyfrustratedwriter

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@laaadygisbooornex3

@itsafullmoon

@kmc1989

@bpmiranda

[shy-canadian-snowflake]

15 Days without.

“Rough night?” Logan murmured as he saw the Merc, wide awake watching something stupid on tv. The man jumped slightly to Logan’s sleep thick voice, only to shoot him a smile once he saw the other was a wake. 

“Hey Peanut.” Wade said softly as Logan threw an arm over his lap. He stayed sitting up and ran a hand through the man’s hair. “I’m fine, just thinking.”

“That’s a scary thought.” His lips twitched into a smile for a second as Wade pulled at his hair. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“It’s been 15 days since my last episode.” Logan blinked at that and did the math in his head. It dawned on him then that the other hadn’t had a rough night, or at least had not mentioned it in well over a week. “Scary right? 15 days without the voices or the arms coming from the walls, or even Boris the void shaped cat.”

“That’s not a bad thing.” Logan eyed the other, trying to get a feel for how Wade was feeling about it. “It’s better than being scared.”

“I’m still scared.” Wade’s voice was soft as he played with Logan’s hair. “I’m even more terrified that nothing is happening. It feels like everything is waiting to give me a big fucking explosive episode where I think JFK is back from the dead with unicorns ready to take over France or some shit.”

Logan gripped the man tighter, pressing his face into Wade’s side. He let the full weight of his mental body lean into the merc, being his own personal weighted blanket. “Why would JFK want France? He was a smart man, he’d take over Canada or somewhere with oil. Lotta money with Oil.”

“Aren’t the Kennedys uber rich?” Wade questioned back, eyeing the TV. Logan looked up from his spot, Wade had Jeopardy playing at a low volume.

“The hell if I know. I’m not a Kennedy. Why do you think you are going to have a huge episode? Maybe your brain and meds are finally mixing right.” 

“It doesn’t feel right.” Wade tugged at Logan’s hair before petting it back down. “I feel like maybe I’m not crazy after all and don’t need the meds anymore.”  “Wade.” Logan groaned, sitting up from his spot. He threw an arm around Wade and pulled him close. Wade pressed his head into Logan’s shoulder with a sigh. “You still need your meds, you were just saying you were worried about Kennedy and unicorns.” 

“What if you’re wrong? What if I’m taking these meds when I don’t need them, and someone out there needs them and I’m just taking them for no damn reason?” Logan’s fingers found Wade’s skull and he started to massage the scared skin there.

“You are taking them for a reason. If you stop taking them you become really fucking depressed and paranoid. Remember last time? You stood naked in the middle of the fucking living room holding a spoon as a weapon because you thought a man was hiding behind a curtain.”

“In my defence I was thinking no one would want to fight me while seeing my naked body.” Logan bumped his head into Wade’s.

“I would, Bub.” Wade bumped his head back. He then let out a huge sigh letting everything drain from his body. 

“I don’t want to think anymore tonight Lo-Lo. Can you tell me a story about your world or something I can sleep to?” 

“We aren’t done talking about this.” He started but thought on it for a second. “It can wait until the morning.” Wade made a happy sound and snuggled down into bed. Logan joined him, pulling him close. He rested a hand on Wade’s cheek, and slowly ran his thumb over Wade’s cheek bone. 

“In my old world, Abraham Lincoln was a vampire hunter. It all started when he was a boy and…” Wade fell asleep to the rumble of Logan’s voice in the matter of minutes.

[a-coelacanth-makes-stuff]

(Note that it's about 2 am when I started writing this so I'll probably sound kinda incoherent, sorry-)

Some people just don't get that children are allowed to see blood sometimes, and that blood doesn't mean that a show isn't for kids or it being a kids show means it can have mature themes.

So many kids shows have no proper substance, nothing interesting, nothing kids can learn from. We need more shows with three dimensional characters that are a joy to see and watch grow, that teach us that we can grow.

Some that do that come to mind are(And keep in mind, I've not ever looked into the themes into these shows yet, but I do want to):

The Owl House, I was there when the last season aired, I almost grew with Luz, I have ADHD and (undiagnosed as it's difficult to get that here) autism, so I resonated with the Main character so much. I had an attachment to these characters, so much so that my otherkin self (trying not to curse) was Hunter for a couple hours when the first episode of season 3 aired! This show helped me get through some stuff with characters I related to and helped me grow, to understand I really didn't have to mask as much as I had been.

Amphibia, like Annie I felt out of place, so I latched onto that. She was like me, navigating a world not made for me. That ending was so bittersweet, about moving on in your own way.

Bluey. Have you seen how many people say it's helping them parent better, or heal their inner child, or teaching their kids to communicate better?

My Little Pony did something well, they had a story that compelled people to watch, to learn and understand the world and the characters as they grew. Yes, many points were for money *cough* EQG *cough* Flurry Heart *cough* but the show runners did what they could to make the fun pastel ponies appeal to those who like stories, those who wanted a brain off show, and Hasbro.

No, none were perfect, no show is, but that's the point. No show is perfect but at least they have substance, value, and a proper story that can teach.

I'm not saying put gore in kids shows, I'm saying kids shows with plot, substance, and meaning should be normalized and expected. Shows that tell a story and teach while they do it. The Dragon Prince has blood to show the plain severity of what Aaravos does. It is PG for a reason. It does these things to better tell a story, Aaravos gets trapped in the remains of his own daughter, to the GODS THERE IS A REASON FOR THAT!

The creators give nearly EVERY choice a reason. It pushes the story, it's morals, and/or the show to be better than it was, to teach its audience better, if they even listen in the first place.

Kids shows should be allowed and expected to take risks, tell scarier stories, to show blood either from teaching first aid or showing that a bad guy is bad. They should be expected to show these things where kids can ask their parents about it so they can learn and understand the material and perhaps even look back, remember that time their parent explained how grief can make people do terrible things or that someone you hate has someone who loves them or someone you love has someone who hates them, or that those you love do not do this and to let them know if it happens, then they go back to watch it with a new perspective from life.

Anyway, that's my two cents, but I'm a broke fish. It's 3 am and I need to sleep. Peace!

-=[🐟 ]=-

Recommending The Dragon Prince to people is weird, ‘cause like.

You have to tell them off the bat “there might be some blood. Don’t be surprised if there is.”

“Actually, expect blood. And a lot of it, maybe. Sometimes.”

“You know, the bloodshed is shockingly pretty plot relevant…”

And the thing is, they’re already skeptical of it. Because it’s a kid’s show.

But by telling them the more mature themes of the kid’s show, it just leaves them even more confused and off put by it.

“Wait, are you sure this is a kid’s show?”

“It can’t be. There’s just no way.”

Yes, I’m sure.

I don’t know how they get away with the stuff they can, they just can. I’m just letting you know that there is blood, even though it is a kid’s show, in case it might be upsetting.

And you’re right. Yes. It’s a kid’s show. It’s weird.

But that’s what makes it great and why I’m recommending it to you in the first place.

[ineffableaddiction]

Mirroring

I know, mirroring is not anything new in Good Omens. I highly appreciate the nuance it takes to build on the same theme through two (or more) seemingly (and sometimes actually) different stories.

There is one that has been stuck in my brain for awhile though.

Let me share….

The Final 15

This has been analyzed from millions of angles, so I’ll be brief. Crowley cleans the bookshop and plans to take Aziraphale to the Ritz. He attempts confession of some sort, only to be interrupted by the angel bringing him good tidings of great joy while looking like The Them when Adam made them smile. The two awkwardly talk, each thinking they’re making grand gestures (and they really are, in their own ways). Things go… not as either of them would have liked. And then… the kiss and aftermath that broke a billion hearts.

This scene has always seemed very Crowley to me. Bold. Grand gestures. Blatantly emotional. (My evil demon drama queen). This scene has an in-your-face impact. There is a reason that almost everyone that saw this had a visceral reaction to it.

NOT the Final 15

But if we pull back, we see a parallel story. A grand gesture. A declaration of love. A missed opportunity to work together.

And…

One of them choosing to go to Heaven.

Think about it. Aziraphale plans a ball in the bookshop, one he’s quite excited about. But, in true Aziraphale fashion, he hides his emotions away and lets the Nina and Maggie coupling attempt to explain away his excitement.

I could always rely on you. You could always rely on me.

Our favorite angel has plans. Is he going to declare his love? Possibly, but maybe not. Will Crowley be invited to live at the bookshop? This seems likely, given the previous “our car” and “our bookshop” banter. Whatever it is, it’s a step forward.

I would like to spend…

Just look at Aziraphale’s excitement as he asks Crowley to dance.

But…

Hell decides to bust up the party. Not Crowley’s fault, but disappointing.

This is where some things seem to get overlooked.

A group of the two of us

At one point, before Crowley escorts the humans out, Aziraphale asks Crowley to hear his idea. He didn’t say plan - he wanted Crowley’s input. After all, it worked so well when they put their heads together when they were trying to protect Jim.

You can’t leave this bookshop

But Crowley doesn’t listen.

He moves the humans to safety, basically just walking them across the road.

And he doesn’t come back. Instead, he goes to Heaven. Because he thinks it is the way to help everyone.

During the time Crowley was in Heaven, Aziraphale didn’t know where he was. There were demons outside the bookshop. The human-shaped being he loves might be discorporated. Maybe even erased. And he had two humans and an amnesiac archangel to help him protect his and Crowley’s home.

That makes this scene tug violently at my heart:

So, to recap….

1. Heart eyes plans something special

2. This is ruined by occult (or ethereal) beings

3. Heart eyes tries to get their object of affection to stay at the bookshop and work together

4. Object of affection leaves the bookshop anyway

5. Object of affection goes to Heaven because they think it will solve/protect something

Then….

6. Object of affection comes back. They always come back.

We have Aziraphale’s quiet, understated version. We have Crowley’s flash bastard version.

Season 3 will hopefully bring us their version. For them, together is beautifully better.

[biblical-chronicles]

Marked

_____________________________________________

where Liam's tattoo makes you feel things [18+]

_____________________________________________

Liam hadn’t even dropped his bag properly when you launched yourself into his arms, nearly knocking him over with the force of your excitement. “You’re home!” you exclaimed, your voice muffled against his neck as you hugged him tightly. His familiar scent wrapping around you quickly.

“Alright, love, don’t knock me over.” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you slightly off the ground. “Missed me, then?”

“Of course I did,” you replied, leaning back to look at him. His face, though tired from the tour, lit up with a grin that made your chest ache. “You’re never leaving me for that long again, by the way.”

“Is that so?” he teased, setting you down gently. “Guess I’ll have to bring you with me next time.”

“You better,” you said, swatting his arm playfully. “But right now, you’re staying here, and I’m not letting you out of me sight.”

Liam laughed, pulling you in for another kiss, soft and warm, and full of everything he couldn’t put into words. You barely noticed him steering you toward the sofa, but soon enough, you were sitting beside him, your legs draped over his lap.

“I’ve got summat to show you.” he said suddenly, his voice laced with excitement.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued but wary. “What kind of something?”

“Just... hang on.” he said, starting to fiddle with the waistband of his jeans.

Your eyes widened. “Liam, what the hell are you doing?”

He grinned at your panic but didn’t stop, undoing the button and shimmying the denim down just enough to expose his upper thigh. There, nestled just above the curve of his knee, was your name inked in bold, dark letters.

You stared at it, blinking rapidly as your brain struggled to process what you were seeing. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you finally said, your voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. “Is that... me name?”

“Yeah,” he said proudly, leaning back like he’d just unveiled the Mona Lisa. “Got it done while we were on the road.”

“Liam,” you said slowly, your hand covering your mouth as you tried not to laugh. “Are you mental? You know that’s permanent, right?”

“’Course I do,” he said, his grin never faltering. “That’s the whole point, innit?”

You stared at him, a mixture of exasperation and affection swirling in your chest. “You realize you’ve tattooed my name on your body forever?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, meeting your gaze. “Just like us. Stays forever.”

Your laugh burst out before you could stop it, and you shook your head, feeling equal parts amused and touched. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Always aim to please.” he said cheekily, but the sincerity in his eyes softened the moment.

You slid off the sofa and knelt in front of him, pulling his jeans down a little more to inspect the tattoo properly. It was clean and crisp, the lines healed well enough that you could see the detail clearly. Your fingers hovered over it for a moment before you finally traced the edges lightly, still not quite believing it was real.

“You’re an idiot.” you said, though your tone was more affectionate than anything else.

“Maybe,” he replied, his voice low as he watched you. “But I’m your idiot.”

You looked up at him, shaking your head again but smiling. “You know, this is actually kind of sweet. Insane, but sweet.”

He leaned down to kiss you, his lips warm and firm against yours. “Worth every bloody second.” he murmured against your mouth.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hand still resting lightly on his thigh. “You’re lucky I love you.” you said, smirking.

“Yeah, I am,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “More than you know.”

Your fingers lingered on the tattoo, brushing over the ink with featherlight touches as if testing its reality. The fact that your name was permanently etched on Liam’s skin sent a wave of warmth through your chest.

“He’s branded himself for you,” a voice in your mind whispered. “Yours.”

You bit your lip, eyes darting to his face. Liam was watching you with a lazy grin, though his cheeks held the faintest hint of a blush, like he knew exactly where your mind was heading. You felt your pulse quicken.

“You know,” you said softly, voice low and thick with intent, “this is kind of hot.”

Liam’s grin faltered for a second, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Hot?”

“Mhm,” you murmured, sitting back on your heels and letting your hands slide higher up his thigh. His jeans were still bunched low, and you tugged them further, exposing more of his leg. “You’ve literally got my name on you, Liam. It’s like you’re claiming me... but also like you’re mine.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his confidence wavering under your sudden intensity. “I mean... I don’t mind the idea of bein’ yours, love.” he muttered, voice cracking slightly.

“Oh, I know you don’t,” you teased, smirking as you climbed back onto the couch and straddled his thigh. “But you like being told, don’t you? That you’re only meant for me?”

Liam’s breath hitched, his wide eyes flickering with recognition and something more. His hands twitched on the cushions as if unsure whether to hold onto you or stay obediently still.

“Come on, say it.” you coaxed, straddling him and rolling your hips against his thigh slowly. The fabric of your lingerie creating delicious friction between you two. “Admit it—you like it when I praise you.”

He let out a shaky exhale, his head falling back against the sofa. “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, his voice dripping with need. “Yeah, I do... I love it.”

You grinned triumphantly, leaning forward to nip at his jawline before whispering in his ear, “Good boy.”

His hips bucked instinctively, and a deep moan tore from his throat. You laughed softly, a little breathless yourself, and pressed your palms to his chest, keeping him pinned in place.

“You’re so easy to wind up,” you teased, rolling your hips again, a little harder this time, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped your lips.

“Yeah?” Liam rasped, his voice hoarse as his hands finally settled on your hips. His grip was firm, but he didn’t try to control your movements—he let you lead. “S’pose that’s ‘cause you know how to drive me mad.”

“Do I?” you asked, feigning innocence as you ground down harder, picking up a rhythm that had you both panting. “Or is it just that you’re obsessed with me?”

“Both,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly on the word. His head tilted forward, and his lips ghosted over your neck before he groaned. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

You leaned back, taking off his shirt and dragging your nails lightly down his chest, leaving red trails on his skin. “Look at you,” you murmured, your eyes dark as you took him in. “All flushed and desperate... just for me.”

“Always for you,” he said, his hands trembling slightly on your hips. “Only you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your stomach flip, and for a moment, you paused, leaning down to kiss him deeply. His lips parted eagerly beneath yours, his tongue meeting yours in a messy manner. When you pulled back, both of you were gasping for air.

“You’re so good for me,” you whispered, grinding down harder as your fingers threaded through his hair and tugged gently. “Such a good boy, Liam.”

The praise sent another moan ripping from his throat, and his hands tightened on your waist as his hips bucked involuntarily. “Fuckin’ hell, keep sayin’ that,” he begged, his voice raw with need. “Please.”

You smiled wickedly, leaning close to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Anything for me good boy.” you purred, your words punctuated by another sharp roll of your hips. 

You leaned back, your hips grinding down harder against him as a sly grin spread across your face. Liam’s head tilted back, his neck straining with the effort to keep his composure, though it was clearly a losing battle. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and the flush creeping up his cheeks made him look impossibly vulnerable, completely at your mercy.

“Oh you're so beautiful.” you whispered, your voice low and teasing as your fingers trailed down his chest, playing over the slight sheen of sweat. “All wrecked already, and I’ve barely even started.”

His lips parted, a shaky breath escaping them, but he didn’t respond—he couldn’t. His eyes flickered to yours, dazed and dark with need, silently begging for more.

You let your fingers glide down his arm, grasping his hand gently and raising it to your lips. “You like watching me, don’t you?” you asked softly, your voice carrying a taunting edge as you slowly parted your lips and took two of his fingers into your mouth.

Liam’s eyes widened, and a low moan escaped him as your tongue swirled around his fingertips, wetting them thoroughly. You made a point to hollow your cheeks slightly, dragging his fingers out with an audible pop before kissing the tips. “That’s right,” you murmured, your gaze locked on his. “Good boys don’t look away.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he rasped, his voice hoarse as his hips bucked beneath you again. “You’re unreal.”

You grinned at his reaction, leaning forward until your lips brushed his ear. “Unreal, huh?” you teased, your breath hot against his skin. “And yet, here I am, and you're mine.”

“Yours.” he echoed, the word breaking into a desperate groan as your hips ground down harder. His hands moved higher to hold your waist, trying to steady you—or himself—but you swatted them away.

“Ah, ah,” you scolded, smirking as you sat up straighter. “Hands to yourself, Liam. You don’t touch until I say so.”

The sharp command sent a shudder through him, and his hands dropped obediently to his sides, gripping the cushions as if to keep them from wandering. “You’re bloody killin’ me.” he muttered, his voice deliciously strained.

You laughed softly, leaning down to kiss him, slow and steady, your tongue teasing his before pulling back. “Oh, love,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over his lower lip. “We’re just getting started.”

Without warning, you spat lightly into his open mouth, watching as his eyes widened in shock before darkening further. “Swallow.” you commanded, your voice firm, and he obeyed without hesitation, his throat bobbing as he did. “Good boy.”

Liam just moaned, and you felt his thighs tense beneath you, the sheer effort of holding back driving him to the brink. “Please,” he begged, his voice raw. “Need you so bad.”

You hummed thoughtfully, as if considering his plea, before reaching down to drag the lace of your panties aside. The feel of his length, hot and throbbing against your core, sent a shiver up your spine, and you couldn’t resist rolling your hips against him once more. “You need me, huh?” you whispered, your tone dripping with mock sympathy. “Then beg for it.”

“Please,” he repeated, his voice breaking as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Please, love, let me feel you. I’ll do whatever you want—just need you.”

His desperation was quite intoxicating, and you couldn’t resist teasing him a moment longer. “Good boy,” you purred, taking off his underwear and guiding him to your entrance with deliberate slowness. “Now, let’s see if you can be as good as you sound.”

The moment you sank down onto him, a moan tore from his throat, and his head fell back against the cushions, his eyes squeezing shut. The stretch and fullness made your own breath hitch, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

“Eyes on me,” you commanded, your fingers gripping his jaw and forcing him to look at you. “I want to see that pretty face when I ride you.”

Liam’s gaze locked on yours, his pupils blown wide with lust, and he nodded, captivated. “Y-Yeah,” he stammered, his voice shaking. “Anything for you, love.”

With a wicked grin, you began to move, setting a pace that had you both moaning in tandem, the sound of your bodies meeting filling the room. “That’s it,” you murmured, your fingers digging into his chest. “Take it like a good boy that you are.”

You rocked against Liam’s lap, the friction and heat building, every movement drawing gasps and moans from both of you. His hands gripped your hips tightly, though he still let you control the rhythm, his face a mix of pleasure and vulnerability as you moved.

As you leaned closer, you cupped his flushed face in your hands, forcing him to look at you again, your lips hovering just inches from his. “You’re so beautiful, Liam,” you murmured, your voice low and reverent. “Do you even realize what you do to me? Those eyes… that smile. It’s not fair.”

Liam’s lips parted in a shaky gasp, his pupils blown wide as he held your gaze, his chest heaving. “Fuck,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “You… you’re…”

“Perfect,” you interrupted him, your thumb stroking his cheek as your hips rolled harder, grinding against him. “You’re perfect, Liam. The way you look at me, the way you touch me… no one even comes close to you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I didn’t even know I needed.”

His breath hitched, his hands trembling slightly against your skin as he gripped you harder. His hips bucked up, and the desperation in his movements made you smile. “That’s me good boy,” you whispered, leaning down to press your lips to his ear. “Taking it so well. So good for me.”

His hands slid up your sides, his fingers finally digging into your waist as he let out a low moan. “I love you.” he rasped, his voice hoarse and uneven.

You pulled back slightly, your hands trailing down his chest, your nails lightly scratching over his skin, leaving faint red lines behind. “You deserve this,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “All of it. You deserve to feel good, Liam. You deserve everything. I love you so much.”

His lips trembled as he tried to respond, but all that came out was a choked moan, his head tipping back against the cushions as his eyes fluttered shut. You leaned down, pressing kisses along his jawline, his neck, and the column of his throat, savoring the way his body reacted to every touch.

“You’re the best, Liam,” you murmured between kisses, your lips brushing against his heated skin. “The way you take care of me, the way you’re always there for me… you don’t even realize how incredible you are, do you?”

He let out another broken sound, his hands sliding down to your thighs as his grip tightened, his breathing ragged. “Love… you’re… fuck,” he stammered, his voice cracking with emotion and need.

“Shh,” you whispered, bringing a finger to his lips. “I know. I know, love. Just let me take care of you.”

You shifted slightly, your movements more deliberate now, grinding down against him, his body jerking beneath you as a desperate moan sounded from his throat. His hands flew to your hips again, trying to slow you down, but you weren’t having it.

“Don’t hold back,” you said firmly, leaning closer so your lips were barely brushing against his. “I want to hear you. Every single sound. Don’t you dare hide it from me.”

The command made him groan loudly, his hands trembling as they slid up your thighs. “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, his voice wrecked. “You’re too much, love. Can’t handle it.”

“Yes, you can,” you countered, pressing a kiss to his lips before pulling back to meet his gaze. “Because you’re mine, Liam. My good boy. Aren’t you?”

His response was just a breathless, “Yeah. Yours. Always.”

You smiled, your fingers trailing down to his lips, pressing two of them into his mouth. “Good boy,” you said softly, watching as his eyes widened slightly, his tongue brushing against your fingers. “That’s it. Just like that.”

The sight of him completely at your mercy, his face flushed and his eyes dark with need sent a fresh wave of heat through you. “Look at you,” you murmured, your voice full of admiration as you began to ride him harder. “So beautiful. So perfect.”

His moans grew louder, unrestrained, filling the room as your praises poured over him. “Fuck, love,” he managed to say, his voice shaking. “I… I love you so fucking much.”

You paused for a moment, your chest tightening as you looked down at him. “I love you too.” you whispered, leaning down to kiss him, your hands framing his face as you poured every ounce of your emotion into it.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, anchoring you to him as your bodies moved together in perfect harmony. Each shift of your hips drew a sharp gasp or a deep moan from him, his head falling back slightly as his eyes locked onto yours, full of unrestrained vulnerability and passion.

“Fuck,” Liam rasped, his voice trembling with raw emotion and pleasure. “Love… you’re… you’re everything.”

You leaned in closer, your forehead brushing against his. “So are you,” you whispered, your voice shaking as your movements became more desperate, grinding against him with increasing urgency. “I mean it, Liam. No one—no one—comes close to you.”

Your words seemed to spur him on, his hips bucking up to meet yours, his grip on you tightening as his breathing became more ragged. “You’re too good,” he muttered, his voice breaking as his head tilted back. “Too fuckin’ good.”

“And you’re perfect,” you countered, leaning down to nip at his jaw, your teeth scraping lightly against his skin before soothing the spot with your tongue. “My perfect, most beautiful boy.”

The praise sent a shiver through him, and he let out another moan, his hands sliding up to cup your waist as his body tensed beneath you. The sound of his pleasure pushed you closer to the edge, your pace quickening as your nails dug into his chest, leaving faint crescents in his skin.

“Liam,” you moaned, your voice thick with need. “I’m so close.”

“Me too, love,” he choked out, his voice barely a whisper. “Fuckin’… can’t hold it…”

You leaned forward, your hands framing his face as you forced him to look at you, your gaze locking onto his. “Let go, Liam,” you murmured, your voice a mix of a plea and a command. “With me.”

With a final roll of your hips, the tension that had been building finally snapped, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as you cried out his name. Liam followed moments later, his body shuddering beneath yours as his moans filled the room. His hands clutched at you desperately, pulling you closer as you both rode out the waves together.

As the pleasure faded, you collapsed against him, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you both struggled to catch your breath. Liam’s arms wrapped around you tightly, his lips pressing soft, reverent kisses to the top of your head.

For a few moments, the room was silent save for the sound of your mingled breathing. Finally, you lifted your head, your fingers tracing over the sweat-dampened skin of his chest. “Well,” you said, your voice soft and teasing, “I think it’s only fair that I tattoo your name on me now. Right?”

Liam let out a breathless laugh, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he grinned at you. “Don’t be daft,” he said, though his eyes sparkled with affection. “But… if you’re serious…”

You laughed, leaning down to kiss him again, soft and lingering. “We’ll see,” you murmured against his lips. “I just might be.”

_____________________________________________

hope you lot enjoyed this little piece of media xx

big thanks to @shes-thunderstormssss for the wonderful idea, was a pleasure to scribble down, can't wait to hear what you thought x

love ya all !!

[but-the-library-of-alexandria]

after much debate upon the subject of my new years resolution (options ranging from a long list of ways I could be better to simply 'be worse'), I have of course chosen, belatedly, the dumbest one:

Leaf Quest 2025!

And I'd love for you to join me! Here's the template spreadsheet, please make your own copy to use:

What is leaf quest?

Leaf Quest is simple: I am going to make it my mission to find, identify, catalogue, and rate the leaves I encounter this year. I already have a decent working knowledge of local flora, but if you don't, all the better!

As a nature lover plagued with Chronic Illness, it makes me sad how little I get out into nature anymore - walking isn't great for me and I tend to save my Walking Budget for special occassions, and as I will rant about on another post very soon, I am a big advocate for dismantling the idea that The Outdoors is only for Exercise. This quest gives me a reason to go outside for short periods and have non-exercise-related Nature Time. It's also really good mindfulness and will be great for the brain.

FAQ:

Why should I do Leaf Quest?

Leaf Quest will help encourage you to:

Get some fresh air, even if just for five minutes

Practice basic mindfulness by noticing and really considering your surroundings

Ground you in material reality when The Discourse and The Screens are plaguing your mind

Train the Gatherer part of your brain

Go to new places for no reason but to explore (for free!)

Feel more connected to the seasons and your ecosystem

Learn about plants n stuff

Give you a whimsical sort of motivational goal for the year

I don't get out much, can I still do Leaf Quest?

Leaf Quest is designed to get you out, even if it's just a few steps from your front door: it's meant to be as accessible as possible. I encourage you to drive or take public transport to new places if you can't walk far. Even if you're housebound, try stopping to identify and catalogue leaves you see in photographs!

There isn't much flora where I live, can I still do Leaf Quest?

First of all, I think you'd be surprised what's hidden in the cracks if you look for it. Secondly, leaves don't have to be found in the wild - you can also find leaves in the supermarket, in pots in people's homes, etc. The aim is not to find The Most Leaves, it's simply to take the time to notice and appreciate them.

Is it difficult/do I need to know about plants?

No and no! there are some good plant ID websites and apps out there, but frankly, you don't have to ID each leaf, and certainly not correctly. If you just wanna find a leaf and rate it without knowing what plant it belongs to, you're still benefiting from Leaf Quest as intended. You can always delete (or add!) columns from your copy of the Quest Log Spreadsheet. And remember, no pressure to 'succeed' at this, it's just for fun! You can do as much or as little as you like.

Are we compiling results as a group?

No, each person's Leaf Quest is their own personal journey. However, you could use the #leaf quest 2025 if you want to talk about it or compare with other Questers.

Are you autistic?

Yes. I am also an archivist by trade, so you can trust the integrity of my cataloguing template.

Today I am beginning to catalogue the leaves in my parents' garden: it's small, but there's so much there I'm sure it'll take me some time, especially as seasons change.

Best of luck on your quests!

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

How could you love somebody like me?

Pairing: f!reader x Javier Peña Words count: 3032 Rating: + 18, NSFW, MDNI. Summary: Javi is under protection and has asked you to join him in the hotel room where he is confined. When you discover his secrets and lies, however, that room will become too small. Too small for both of you. Tags/warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, Javi is still a DEA agent but it's a modern setting so the man has a smartphone. Reader is described having female genitalia and breasts, no other description of her is given, she doesn't blush and her hair is not described. Mention of alcohol, mention of cheating, Javi is a cheater, no happy ending, we will go through the man's phone (you're not supposed to do that but I never said my reader could do no wrong, right?), use of pet names (gatita which means kitten in Spanish, baby, darling), smut, angry sex, unprotected p in v (do better irl), cream pie, of course a little nipple play ‘cause it’s still my fic, toxic relationship, self doubt, mention of Steve, a huge pile of lies, Javi is bad at feelings, some reader’s thoughts marked in italics. I think it's all, let me know if I forgot something and I'll add it right away. A/N: Written for @jolapeno 's "Dear-uary" challenge. This was my prompt, I struggled a little bit at first but I ended up having a blast writing this ❤︎ Heavily inspired by this song (from which the fic also takes its title), I heard it randomly on Spotify one day and I thought "wait, this is perfect for Javi!" and I ended up being obsessed with two more songs by the same artist. LOL Many thanks to: - @aurorawritestoescape , my beta, for her help and advice, she will probably dream of elephants because of me tonight hahaha Kate I own you a big one, thanks baby so much, I love you ❤️ - The person who basically pulled this out of my brain and supported me throughout the process, my precious, my peanut @joelmillerisapunk. 🥰 Love you so much it's ridiculous🥹 - @milla-frenchy for letting me blather about this thing some days ago. Love you, bb ❤︎ English is not my first language, every single mistake is still on me, I deeply apologize if you find any.

“Why the hell am I here? Was I the only available hole this week?”

“No,” he whispers. 

“So what?” 

Javier came back and found you in the middle of the room.

You were brandishing his phone like a sword in the air, the banner of everything that was wrong.

His face went pale when he saw you like that. 

Eyes wide open. 

Mouth agape. 

He tried to say something but you immediately hit him with a vomit of words.

“I know what you’re doing,” you hiss under your breath, feeling your eyes sting.

Javier is a marble statue in front of you, his lips pressed together, his absent eyes not even looking at you, staring at a spot behind your shoulders, his arms abandoned along his sides. 

He seems anchored to the ground. 

His last words to you still burn on your skin like a fire you cannot extinguish.

A heavy silence between you fills the air of the room and makes it unbreathable. 

“Fuck, Javier, talk to me,” you whisper angrily.

You clutch his phone in your hands, so tightly that your knuckles are white from exertion, as if you were clinging to it to keep yourself from falling off a cliff. 

“You knew I was no good,” he says sternly.

You have been in this room for two days. 

Officially, Javier has to stay here because henchmen of one of the new drug lords in town are set on taking him out. 

Unofficially, he has you infiltrating the room. 

Typical Javier, spending his time under protection fucking someone. 

You foolishly almost believed it was romantic, until this morning. 

“So you’re trying to say that it’s my fault? Is that what you want to say? It’s my fault that as soon as I turn my back you go and stick your cock in someone else's pussy?” You don’t even have the strength to scream right now. Your voice comes out rancorous but low, hoarse, like a blown growl. 

Oh, you’re not going to accept being lectured by him, fuck no.

“No, I’m just saying -” he tries to explain and you glare at him, making the words die in his mouth.  

"What?" 

“Fuck, I'll never change,” he shrugs as if it were a truism that only you can't grasp.

His eyes shift to the ground, dull and absent.

“You don't change because you are convinced that you can't,” you admonish him, feeling anger rising from your chest. 

"That's not true," he murmurs, keeping his gaze on the crimson and gold carpet that lies at your feet.

“Yes, it is,” you insist, ”and you seem to like to think of yourself as an incurable asshole.”

He still fails to see the real problem, the elephant in the room that lives and thrives among you. 

"Then you tell me, if you think you know me so well,” he asks with defiance. 

“You bet I fucking know you,” you lash out. “You think you're so mysterious and complicated?! Well,  news flash, I've seen plenty like you. You’re just another man. You're not even that, you're a child. A child who's afraid of his own shadow when it comes to relationships.”

“Don’t fucking analyze me,” he hisses, finally setting his eyes back on you. 

Raven, angry and fearful. He knows you can read him like an open book and this unleashes an awareness upon him that crushes him to the ground.

You bitterly laugh, “Truth hurts, huh? I know something about it”. 

The wrinkle between his eyebrows deepens, his nostrils flare, and his mouth tightens into a line so thin you think he’s about to burst. He stays quiet instead, eyes back on the damask carpet decoration. 

_____________

“Yes, Steve, I'm fine. That jerk won't find me here, and anyway it's full of police outside the door.” 

A pause and a sigh. 

”No, no one followed her, they don't know who she is.”

You stood behind the half-closed bathroom door listening. 

You smiled. 

His voice sounded softer when he talked about you. You lulled yourself into that feeling. 

Until you heard something else. 

A booming laugh. 

Water ran in the shower, tiny droplets coated the wall as the mirror fogged up.

“Whatever. Of course I'm still screwing around. At least, I was doing it before that asshole started chasing me,” his voice suddenly lowered so you took a chance and opened the door a little more. You wanted to make sure you heard right. 

Your hand trembled against the doorknob, you grabbed your wrist to hold it steady. 

“You idiot,” he scoffed. “Yeah, we'll be in touch.”

Suspicion. The black wing of a crow that had been wrapped around your heart for a long time.

But then why did it hurt so much? 

You allowed yourself to hide it in a part of your brain where you never looked-that was a mistake. Making the hunch barely a firefly when it was supposed to be a bright neon sign.

He always places the phone with its screen down when you go out to dinner, softly smiling at it when he checks it after a few vibrations, telling you “it’s Steve” when you ask. 

But you know that crooked smile. 

He dodges when you ask him about his day "oh work, you know, just work." 

He tells you he is with Steve but you hear female voices in the background. 

Every time you try to confront him it always ends the same way, him telling you, “you’re paranoid, there’s no one else, just you, baby. You’re the only one I want.”

And then he fucks your doubts into oblivion.

You heard the thud of the phone on the blankets. And then Javier calling you. 

You swallowed the gall rising from the walls of your stomach and just smiled when he joined you in the bathroom and suggested that you shower together.

You wanted some proof before you charged him. 

If there was anything you had learned from being with him, it was that hard evidence was the key. So you played cool. 

He fucked you against the shower wall and you moaned into his neck. 

He licked your pussy like a man starved and you just bit your lips until you felt iron on your tongue.

He kissed you with that liar's mouth, and you let him.

And you fell asleep beside him, on the unmade bed of your uncertainties. 

This morning someone from outside called him into the hallway to report the latest movements of the guy who was looking for him. 

His phone was on the bedside table.

It was like a magnet, pulling your hand to it.

You were almost sure you knew his unlock code ‘cause you had watched the movements of his finger many times. 

You tried twice without success. 

The third time you let out a long sigh, visualized in your mind the movement one more time and unlocked it. 

You were in. 

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest as your fingers swiped and clicked on the screen. 

And there they were.

Dozens and dozens of messages and pics exchanged with 4 different women.

You scrolled through one of the chats with a certain Maria, who regularly sent him pictures of her tits and her legs spread wide, her pussy in the shot.

There was sexting, arranged dates, same promises he gave to you, things you never asked for but he kept repeating like a broken record. Even the same pet name. Gatita. 

Blood simmered in your veins, a jolt in your heart, throat dry. 

Your finger furiously scrolled through the chat, finding tons of messages he had sent her while he was with you.

You switched to another one and you found pretty much the same. And yet another, message after message containing flirting and explicit sex.  

“Oh Javi, you keep getting better and better with that cock of yours”

“My pussy needs you, darling, can you come over?”

“I can’t stop thinking about your huge cock dripping on me”

And the more you scrolled, the more a question formed in your brain, rumbling through your temples like a deafening drum. 

Was he ever sincere with you?

________

When he looks up at you again, you see it. A veil of fragility in the dense blackness of his gaze.

He looks almost helpless. “I know you tried,” he admits, ”You tried harder than anyone else.”

“Apparently it was no use,” you chastise him.

He doesn’t reply. 

Instead he comes closer and closer. 

You pull back, responding to his every step forward with a backward one. 

“Please,” he whispers. 

“No.” 

“Don't do that.”

“You have no right to tell me what to do,” you bark.

”I know...” 

“Fuck off, Javier, leave me alone.”

You pull back until you hit the wall behind you. 

Javier approaches, bending slightly to reach your mouth, his mustache brushes against your cupid’s bow and you don't even have the strength to turn your face away anymore. 

When your lips collide you let it happen. 

It’s like when you drink too much Tequila. 

It burns on your tongue, leaving you almost anesthetized as soon as you down it, and then an aromatic taste wafts into your mouth; it is lysergic, unusual, unmistakable.

You love it, so you keep doing it.

Javier is the same. 

He's sharp, stiff at the edges, burns like fire, but he has an aura that you won’t mistake for anything and he hypnotizes you. He’s not like anyone else, despite what you told him. There is an underlying despair in him, a cry dying in his throat, “How can you love someone like me?” 

He says it only with his eyes but you hear it clearly.

He is a time bomb that explodes in your heart every time he touches you. So you keep doing it.

“Fuck,” you whisper against his lips. 

“Yeah…I know. I’m not worthy.”

And yet, you’re still here.

You let him peel off your every layer of clothing, to leave you naked and vulnerable in front of him. 

You do nothing when he undresses too. Hastily taking off his shirt, fumbling with the button of his jeans, nervous hands and short breaths.

It is like some mind fuck game, intoxicating, dangerous, capable of leaving permanent marks.

He lowers his jeans just enough to free his cock, no boxers. Always ready.

His hands run over your hips and you groan. 

His tongue slides over your neck, his eyes closed, his breath heavy and warm on your skin. 

He makes you cry, but you don't say no.

His lips latch onto your nipple and adrenaline rushes through your veins up into your head, hitting hard like a jackhammer.

You don’t pull back anymore, you push your tit into his mouth so eagerly you feel his teeth closing on your bud and you whine in pleasure. 

His growing erection leaks against your center. You are trapped. Not so much because you are between him and the wall but because you no longer know how to get him out of your head. 

Right now it doesn't matter how much it hurts. 

He slides his hands down your thighs and you know what he wants, without needing to speak. You wrap your legs around his waist. He kneels on the bed with you still clinging to him, you lie back on the soft blankets that smell of you both, arch your back and press against his cock. You folds splayed and dripping for him.

His fingers go up your rib cage, stop under your breasts and grasp there, he draws you back to him and your mouths collide again.

You let his tongue enter. You let the fleeting pleasure of this instant take over all the no's you know you have to say.

There’s no right kind of love here, this room is drowned in angry sex.

Angry at how you can never say no to him, angry at how he makes you feel, angry because you know that no one has ever fucked you the way he did, invading your body with a pleasure so addictive that it makes you sick. Angry because maybe he's right, he can't change. 

You break the kiss and bite on his shoulder, a small act of revenge that really does no harm compared to your bleeding heart. 

Your hands grasp on the golden skin of his back, leaving marks with your nails digging into it, your miserable attempt to leave marks on him in return.

You moan convulsively under his touch, your mouth wide open against his, your tongue desperately seeking him out. 

His hands tighten on your ass, lifting you slightly, his cock slides over your wet opening, a guttural sound comes out of the back of your throat without you being able to hold it back. 

You want him inside you. 

You need him inside you.

And it’s wrong, and desperate. It’s masochistic.

You don’t even care for his jeans’s zip scraping your skin.

The thin line between pain and pleasure is so blurred now.

It’s a pathetic shit show of need and urgency. 

You’d walk away from any other guy but Javier is the person you can never have just for yourself and at the same time he is the only one you want. 

He is the knife and the wound at the same time.  

When he asks “Whose pussy is this?” in his deep groaning voice that fucks directly with your brain, you can only reply “yours.”

Digging your nails deeper, biting more, wailing louder but just pleading with him.

You take his shaft in your hand and rub it against you in blind desperation, wetting it with your juices. 

He groans into your ears while his hand reaches for your nipple and his big strong arm holds you close.

You are sitting on his thighs, your legs crossed behind his back.

His fingers pinch your nipple as you don't stop stroking his big throbbing cock.

Just put it in there. You think. I just need to feel your flesh against mine, inside me, claiming me like the rag doll that I am now. 

Stupid bitch trying to have you when you’re damaged like a shattered glass, when you can bring nothing than heat to my body and freezing ice to my heart. 

“Fuck me,” you groan. 

He pushes against your core, entering you with one deep thrust.

Your pussy is weeping so much it doesn’t even hurt.

You clench on him with all the strength you have, chocking his cock with your walls.

“Fuck,” he growls. “You’re gripping me so hard, baby. There’s nothing you want more than this, huh? Me fucking you raw?” 

“Shut up,” you hiss. 

He starts moving, pumping into you as his hand reaches for your clit, brushing it in circles.

You whine, clinging onto his back, your face hidden in the crook of his neck.

You can’t look him in the eye, you can’t face your own shameful reflection in his pupils, you can’t think of anything else than this pleasure firing your body, your limbs, your mind.

Your pussy never gets the memo when it comes to him. She just clenches, and cries and asks for more.

At the verge of your brink, when you’re so utterly overwhelmed you could swear, you’re about to jump out of your skin, you hear it.

It’s the softest whisper on your skin, so low you barely catch the words, “I love you” 

You cry a single tear that slides down the column of his neck, it could be mistaken for a bead of sweat so easily and Javier doesn’t notice it. But it’s there. You’re crying again.

You come, weeping.

Grasping to him like your last shred of hope.

But there’s no hope anymore.

You know you can’t go on like that.

You cried before. You argued before. It’s all useless.

A devastating orgasm shoots through you, leaving you without defense.

It’s the last thing you want but you need to get it over with. 

You lie on the bed, feeling his last twitches inside you, his cum dripping onto your walls, his cock pressing against that spot that belongs only to him.

He lies down on you, gently crushing you with his weight, his sweaty skin against yours, the smell of your orgasm filling your nostrils.

You’re hopeless and breathless. 

He's still inside you, like he doesn't want to leave. 

You know you have to. 

Eventually he shifts, lying on the other side of the bed muttering, “god, you really are something else.” He takes the pack of cigarettes from the nightstand and lights one, taking a long drag.

“I'm not enough,” you want to scream looking at him through the cloud of smoke enveloping him. “Or maybe you're not, for me.”

When he is about to fall asleep, you get up. You pick up your clothes off the floor and put them on silently.

“Where are you going, gatita?” he grunts. 

Does he think he has solved it? Does he think you will forgive him as you did the other times? 

"You only ever tell me the truth when you think I won't hear it,” you breathe, before coming out of the door without turning your back.

You leave him there, wondering what you were referring to, lost as he makes you feel.

There will be two broken hearts. 

You know he loves you and you love him.

He is convinced that he doesn’t deserve you and pushes you away every time you get close to his soul. 

He knows that you see him clearly; that scares him.

You are tired of fighting for the both of you.

You push the elevator button under the gaze of an unsuspecting policeman who urges, “Where are you going, miss?”

“I'm leaving.”

“Do you need someone to accompany you?” 

“No, thank you.”

“Someone could follow you,” he counters.

“No one knows me, you don't have to worry.”

You wait for the elevator, still hoping to see his ruffled raven hair poking out the door, his voice calling to you, his hand tightening on your wrist. 

None of this happens.

The only ones who will follow you are your ghosts.

Tag list: @baronessvonglitter , @almostempty , @probablyreadinsmut , @thundermartini , @gothcsz , @cas-readsandwrites , @harriedandharassed

Archive tag: @pedrostories

If you want to be added or removed just let me know! Thank you very much for reading❤︎

[igotanidea]

(7) Cheater: Dick Grayson x reader

part 1/ part 2 / part 3 / part 4/ part 5 / part 6

A/N: ladies and gentlemen I give you : THE FINALE! happy early b-day @pookieisme4life 🎁🎁 (I was about to wait till 24th but it turned out impossible I am so excited to post it!!!)

***

„Who the hell are you?”

Honestly, he could care less about the ID of the mystery person, nor he hoped for the actual answer, but the initial shock did just that.

They were driving towards some unknown destination that was allegedly the location of the place Y/N was taken to.

“Nice try, Nightwing. Keep dreaming” the person, who was already deemed as a woman, laughed, swirling abruptly yet skillfully.

“Seriously you can’t just expect me to address you in a hey, you way.”

“Valid point. For the sake of it, let’s settle on calling me Shadow.”

“Fine. Whatever. Now why are you helping me?”

“I did some bad things In my life. Maybe this is my way of making up for them.”

“Huh. Seeking redemption?”

“Pretty nice trope, isn’t it?” she laughed. It was actually pretty nice to be able to use humor even in dire situations. “I was always a sucker for the character who wants to do better in their life.”

“Yeah. At least you chose a better way to do so than my brother.”

“You mean Red Hood?”

“For someone I don’t know shit about, you seem awfully knowledgeable about my family ties.”

“Intel is everything, Nightwing. And yes, I know what your other brother, Red Robin, might say.”

“Who the hell are you?!” At this point Dick was really getting curious.

“A friend.” She responded, looking right at him, her eyes shining from behind the mask.

***

“Let me go!!”

“Easy princess. Behave or this might actually get worse for you.”

“LET ME GO!!” she struggled against the binding on her wrist and the sack put on her head.

“What did I tell you, you bitch!?” She was abruptly pulled out of the car and thrown onto the ground. “Do you have a death wish?!”

“Fuck you!”

“If I were you, I’d cooperate, you little slut. Otherwise we might have to scar that pretty face of yours more than it’s necessary.”

With a sharp movement the sack was torn off her head and she had to squint her eyes from the light that hit her eyes with excessive force, reinforced by the fact she had just spent god knows how much time in a dark car with eyes covered.

“Shit…” there was no possibility to hold back the hiss and a few tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Yes. Yes sunshine, you’re in deep shit.” The kidnapper kneeled to her level and caressed her cheek in a condescending gesture, obviously misreading her tears as a sign of fear and submission. “So pretty…”

“Piss off!” she acted instinctively, ending up with a slap on the cheek and stinging sensation that only added to her anger.

“Didn’t I tell you to behave?”

“I had a stinking sack on my head, maybe there was something wrong with my hearing at the time and – “ her head spun to the side as another slap, this time far harder landed on her cheek.

“Well you definitely heard me now. And if you didn’t I won’t hesitate to remind you again. Now get up, we’re taking you to the boss.”

Great.

She was in a freaking video game, when two brainless thugs captured her for a reason that was still a mystery to her and was now taking her to the den of a final boss on the level.

***

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

Should she even be surprised that said den had a design of a video game? Dark, cold, adjourned with different kinds of weapons scattered here and there, huge desk in the middle and three monitors that took up the entire wall?

Almost grotesque.

But hey, who was she to judge the taste of Gotham’s criminals, right?

She probably should have been terrified, praying to every higher power to be saved by Batman, Red Hood, Robin or – damn – even Poison Ivy in the worst case, but for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to that particular emotion. It was like her brain refused to anchor in reality and everything turned into a freaking dream she was sure to wake up from any second now.

Though maybe getting back to reality in which Dick was still with Sienna and she was brokenhearted wasn’t really a good alternative.

Right. Dick.

Did he even notice her gone? Or was he too busy patching things up with his girlfriend, already forgetting about Y/N? The girl he claimed to love?

A kick in the back of the knees that send her to the floor (again) made her realize that while getting lost in her thoughts she missed the obviously very important and very detailed speech of the villain who was describing his wicked plan to take over the world and –

“Ouch!”

“Stupid bitch.”

“It hurts!” she tried to squirm away from the kicking but it was immensely hard with her hands still bound.

“Hold the fire, boys. Easy. The lady is our guest after all and this is not how we treat guests, is it?” The goons chuckled darkly, because clearly guests were deserving of a far more cruel and brutal treatment. “Now, now, don’t be scared little one. We won’t hurt you. Much. At least not until you give us what we want.”

The owner of a deep, husky voice, who clearly was the host of the party finally decided to step forward and show his face.

Well.

Not exactly showing his face.

***

 “Could you at least tell me who we’re dealing with here?!” Dick muttered, keeping his voice low as he and Shadow pulled at the abandoned building on the outskirts of Gotham. “Do you even know?”

“Why? Does it matter?” Shadow joked “Would you use a different contingency plan for Riddler and another one for Two Face?”

“Could you please stop joking about it? This is my girlfriend we’re talking about!”

The emotions started to come to the surface, and Nightwing started becoming uncharacteristically scatter-brained.

“Idiot. Keep it down!” Shadow hissed, pulling him behind the corridor crease, miraculously avoiding the watchful gaze of the guardian. “Here’s what I get for putting myself at risk. Nightwing announcing his presence to the entire compound filled with criminals. Get yourself together. Or is it too hard for you?!”

Dick grimaced. He hated himself at the moment. For both losing his cool, especially in front of someone who could hold it against him and for missing on precious time since every second counted.

“Y/N. Think about Y/N.” he muttered to himself “She needs your help. Now more than ever.”

He took a few deep breaths, calming down the storm inside him to the point where he was actually in control and capable of turning the fear and concern into anger.

If anyone touched his Y/N….

“You back?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m back.” He opened his eyes, completely focused, eyes sharp, instincts on high alert. “Tell me who’s the fucker who dared to take her.”

“Black Mask.”

“Fucker.” The word left Dick’s lips without the involvement of his brain. That was how much he loved her. The golden boy, teasing, joking and playful nightwing turned into a machine, swearing and ready to freaking kill, almost Red Hood like.

“So? Ready to kick some asses?”

“After you.” The predatory smirk blooming on his face was a sign of incoming violence and spilling blood.

***

Her screams mixed with the ones coming from the corridor in a beautiful, gory cacophony of sounds. An ode painted with blood and pain. Maybe that was why for a longer moment no one in the room actually paid attention nor was willing to try and differentiate the sources of notes in the song.

 Or maybe it was the fact that the goons’ cries were extremely high-pitched, almost reaching the same key as the yelling of a woman trapped in the torture machine, losing strength with every passing second.

“Oh no, no, no, no.” Black Mask laughed cruelly “you don’t get to pass out on me yet. Info first.” The iron grip on her wrist tightened even more, as if that was even possible, cutting into skin and muscle, amplifying the blood loss.

For the last whatever-time-passed she was kept on the edge of consciousness as if Black Mask was hoping that choking, hurting and injecting with some substance would cause her to lose inhibitions and finally blurt out the information he was so dead set on getting.

Who is Nightwing.

Who is Batman.

Any piece of information would turn out to be useful, but since the beginning of the questioning it became painfully clear that that stupid girl was either too weak or too strong to answer.

Too weak because it seemed that even the slightest amount of pain made her repeatedly pass out and too strong because on those intermittent periods where she actually was conscious and aware of the surroundings enough to talk was the one making her extremely stubborn and uncooperative.

And Black Mask was losing his patience.

Here he was, gracing that little scum with his presence instead of submitting her to the treatment of his lower men, with less than gracious methods and she had the audacity to be bratty.

A vicious circle in which he was using the moments to get information only to be refused, beating her again and ending up with a thoughtless body, achieving nothing, over and over again.  

He should have just stuck to using his rat, skillfully planted in Gotham.  

“Fuck!” he yelled seeing as once again she went limp on the chair only because he pulled her nail. “Stupid bitch!”

“Mmmmm…” Y/N muttered and for a moment the room was completely quiet save from her little whimpering.

And then –

“OUCH!”

“FUCK!”

“RETREAT!”

“The hell?” Black Mask walked to the door and looked through the peephole. “Fuck!” Seeing his guards and men being thrown in different directions, sounds of yelling and snapping bones alongside with blood streaming on the floor was not the best view before 7 p.m. and definitely not the best without his favorite drink. Under any other circumstances he would be giving zero fucks about the violence outside the safe door, but now – he had a plan to complete and no one, fucking no one would prevent him from succeeding.

The loud sound of a door’s guard crashing with the metal surface and pictorially sliding down with crushed skull caused Sionis to quickly recalibrate his plan.

Seemed like Red Hood was in the house. And not that Sionis was scared, but-

“Hold them back!” he yelled, grabbing the limp body of Y/N and rushing towards the safety exit, to the roof where his private jet was landed just in case of emergencies.

And this was clearly an emergency.

***

The door broke about 30 seconds after Black Mask rushed to the passage.

“You carry explosives with you everywhere?” Dick muttered, equally impressed and shocked.

“What? It comes in handy and -”

“AAAAH!” Both goons rushed at the two vigilantes before Shadow could finish a sentence, but their brave loud cries quickly turned to quiet, broken sobbing as they were laid down.

“Be a sweetheart and tell me where he went?” Nightwing leaned over the goon with an almost soft smile.

“mhm…” inert waving towards the passage was enough of an answer.

“Good boy. Thanks.”

***

“NO!!” she yelled as Black Mask was dragging her through the roof. Sudden realization of all the things that could go wrong making her much more valiant and strong. As long as she was still in Gotham and not exported to another city or – god forbid – country – could result in being deemed as another missing-without-trail- person.

That is – if someone was even looking for her in the first place.

Tears pricked in the corner of her eyes at the thought that she could be so easily forgotten.

And the terror she was holding back for so long, since the moment of being dragged into that black SUV, finally found a way out…

“NIGHTWING!!!”

***

“Y/N!!”

A dead man would hear that cry and even a dead man would rise from the dead at the sheer desperation beaming from the voice.

“Y/N!!! I’m coming!”

***

“You’re becoming a trouble!” Black Mask hissed, slapping her repeatedly, drawing another stream of blood this time from the broken lip.

“I – “

“I’m so done with you. Should have just killed you the second you turned out to be of zero significance to the cause. Now come here you little bitch-“

“No!!”

She blindly started to run away, only to trip (obviously) and ending up back in Sionis’ grip.

“NO!!”

He was too strong and she was too scared and stiff to fight anymore. Digging heels into the ground did no harm and was definitely no hindrance in being pulled towards the ledge of the 10-stories building.

“NO!!!!”

“Y/N!!”

Both the girl and Sionis froze for a moment as another male voice cut into the screaming match.

But it was too late.

***

“Go!” Shadow was probably the only one who didn’t lose cold blood.  “GO!”

***

She was falling.

And it was beautiful.

Knowing that she would finally be free of all the pain, of all the heartbreak, of the guilt coming with betraying another girl by sleeping with someone else’s boyfriend. Liberated from being stuck in the memories of the past when she was actually happy, before everything went to shit.

“I love you Dick…” she whispered, finally crashing to the ground.

***

“Who the hell are you?!”

“Oh, come on, not this again!” Shadow hissed, extremely dissatisfied with the fact that everyone she encountered was far more interested in getting to know her personality, rather than fearing her killer skills.

For Black Mask it took a record time of ten minutes before calling defeat and ending up bound and being taken by the GCPD.

***

“Y/N.”

She opened one eye and much to her surprise found out that she was not a celestial body looking at her bloodied pulp of a body on the pavement.

“I love you too…” the warm embrace around her was welcomed but in time started to become a little suffocating and her battered body refused to be squeezed.

“Dickie…”

“Shh… shh, I got you.” He whispered again, caressing her hair, kissing her forehead, doing everything to assure both her and himself that it was all over and that he got her, that she was safe and he would never let it happen again. Never.

“H-How? W-what happened-? I – I thought-“

“You thought so little of me, didn’t you?”

“Idiot.”

“Hey!”

“Fucking prick! I swear if it wasn’t for this – “ she swung her injured arm in the air “I’d slap the hell out of you!”

“I saved you!”

“I almost died and you’re making jokes!”

Oh. Right. Maybe, just maybe given the circumstances it was slightly inappropriate.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah. You better.” She pouted, but he knew better, wiping the unshed tears. “It’s over.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“What happened?”

“I’m an acrobat, remember? I jumped. And damn, I wish someone had that on video because it was really one of my best – Ouch! Ouch! Ok, ok! Stop it! Point taken!”

***

“How are we doing here?”

Once Sionis was seated in the back of a police car, hands were shaken and words of gratitude exchanged Shadow walked towards Dick and Y/n.

“I think she’ll live.” Dick teased with a smirk, predictably moving a safe distance away from his -- .

Right.

Maybe there was no happy ending after all with that messed up relationship thing hanging over their heads like a freaking axe.

“Can’t say the same about Nightwing though” Y/N pushed the thought away, settling on sending him a death stare for making fun of her again.

“Good. I’m glad.”

“I think you made up for whatever crime you were trying to redeem, Shadow. Thank you. I owe you. You saved my –“

“Girlfriend?” Shadow prompted, looking between Y/N and Dick, making them both blush in a bit of embarrassment.

“It’s complicated-“ they both said at the same time.

“Oh, trust me, it’s not complicated at all!” Shadow laughed

“What do you mean? You don’t know-“

“I know more than you think. Haven’t I proved that already?” Shadow turned around, making sure no one was watching and slowly took of her mask.

***

Fast forward. One week later.

Y/N was walking out of the hospital. It seemed like her arm was healing nicely and there were no complications, though her doctor was very stern while telling her she was supposed to rest and not get herself involved in any form of physical activity.

If he only knew that she was in a relationship with Gotham’s and Bludhaven vigilante.

“Y/N!”

Speaking of which, said vigilante was now honking at her from his Porsche.

“Showoff!”

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping!

She laughed and jumped inside the vehicle.

“You’re supposed to hold the doors open for me!”

“Mh. Missed you too, sunshine.” He leaned over the gearbox kissing her with a cheeky grin. “How’s the hand?”

“She’ll live.”

“Quoting me already, princess? Careful, I might think you consider me a superstar or something.”

“Idiot!”

“Ouch! You’re hurting me. But I’m willing to forgive you, giving the circumstances of late.”

He started the engine and took the way to the city.

“Yeah. Crazy, right?” her head fell onto the car’s headrest and she sighed heavily. “I mean – who would have thought…”

***

Flashback

“S-Sienna!?”

“Hey you two.”

“h-hey? What do you mean “hey”?! What is this?! Some sick joke?!”

In her stupor Y/N missed the fact that Dick was as shocked (if not more) as her. Hence it couldn’t have been any conspiracy against Y/N’s mental health.

“Whoa! Whoa! Relax!” Shadow Sienna raised her hands in surrender “Dick-“

“The hell?! How do you know? Damn it-!” he forgot about all the rules of safety and tore off his mask. Getting to the bottom of this shit was far more important.

“- I meant what I said. Really! About that redemption arc! Just – just listen to me!”

“Five minutes.”

“It was all a scheme-“

“Well let me tell you, your explanation is starting off the wrong foot” Dick groaned, pulling Y/N to his side to strengthen her mentally.

“I am Black Mask’s niece in the second line!” Sienna explained dramatically “wait-! Wait-! I have no loyalty to him! Not anymore!”

“One minute left.” Dick hissed

“It was all a plan. He had some vague idea about the ties between the one Dick Grayson and Batman and Y/N and wanted to use all of you against each other.”

“Thirty seconds.”

“Yes, fine! I was his spy for a moment, but then you two-. God! You love each other! And I just couldn’t- I couldn’t-“

Y/N wriggled out of Dick’s embrace and walked to Sienna, grabbing both her hands in her healthy one.

“Thank you.”

End of flashback

***

 “I really hope you took your golden visa with you, cause I am about to go crazy with this shopping spree.”

“Hey. No limits on Bruce’s cards. He won’t even notice the loss of a couple thousands and I got my girl back, so-“

“I think we should send-“

“I already took care of that.”

After all the trouble and drama they got their happy ending.

***

In another part of town a certain girl found a fruit and sweet basket on her doorstep. With a little, but meaningful card.

It seemed like she found her happy ending too.

One in which she was no longer used by anyone and treated as a villain.

With the view for a future of freedom.

@miraculous-panic @fullbelieverheart @xlatinaaxx @ietss @arfrona

@gracescor3 @jaysgirlx @fuzzym4m4 @peachmartini @xenop0p @madness1999sworld

@leovergurl

[bonesxbows]

Once Upon A Dream - Chapter 3 (Lucifer X Reader)

My Masterlist

In a sleeping beauty-inspired AU, a curse is placed over you when you strike up a deal with Heaven to protect baby Charlie, causing you to lose your memory. You remember nothing once the curse takes over; not your marriage with Lucifer, not the family you had with the two of them, nothing. So when a strange smiling demon offers you a place to stay when you can't remember where 'home' is, you take him up on his offer. 

(WARNINGS)

Heavy depressing themes

Loss of a parent (temporary)

Minor assault - Chapter 3 only

Link to Chapter 1

Link to Chapter 2

Banners by @strangergraphics

The palace was empty, eerily quiet. Deserted. He was a ghost walking his own halls, looking as dead on the outside as he felt on the inside. Hollow, scooped out like an orange peel and left out in the sun to rot. 

He was by your side, again. He always seemed to end up back here, his feet mindlessly bringing him into your room. He didn’t know where else to go. It had changed so much over the years; the curtains became drawn at some point, blocking out all possible light in the room, your fingertips had turned a worrying shade of blue, your body was so cold to the touch all the time now, and all memories of your time spent with Lucifer had been erased from the room, pictures being flipped over and trinkets the two of you had collected together shoved into a box deep within the closet. The room looked empty and uninviting now, it had lost that personal touch you had brought with you when you had moved in with him, but it was all too painful to look at. He had to be rid of it all. 

His arms were folded on your lap, his head tucked into them as he stared up at your sleeping face, his red-filled eyes brimming with tears as his yellow pupils trailed over your delicate features. His tail flicked angrily behind him. “She’s gone, ducky.” His voice was hoarse from disuse. In truth, it had been months since Charlie had left, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at you and tell you he had failed. The fact that you were unconscious and in no position to look down upon him made little difference in his mind, he would fill in the blanks for you. You had thought the world of him, uplifting him about what a wonderful father he would be when his doubts would get the better of him, and yet now here he was. Surely you would have been disappointed in him had you still been awake. Would you have left him too? Like Charlie had? Was he doomed to drive everyone away? 

He sat up, grabbing a hold of your hands in his, dragging his clawed thumbs over the backs of your knuckles softly. “I…I’m so sorry.” He gave them a slight squeeze, praying for a reaction from you, but of course, none came. “You should have never gotten tangled up in this mess…” tears were freely flowing down his face now as he spoke, his mind a whirlwind of emotions and negative thoughts, all aimed at himself like spears and swords.

The dam finally cracked, a shiver running down his spine as an awful thought stung his brain, the epiphany of his rumination hitting him like a lightning bolt sent down from the sky. “You…you would have been so much better off if we had never met.” He sobbed, refusing to look away from your face as he told you what he considered to be the truth. Maybe Heaven had been right, with what they had told him all those years ago, repeatedly spitting it into his face until they knew it was stuck in his brain. 

Maybe he truly had been a mistake. 

The thought made his body want to shut down. Made everything want to shut down inside of him. He leaned closer to you, shakingly placing a gentle kiss on your lips before he pulled back abruptly, dropping your hands into your lap and forcefully removing himself from your personal space as if mere contact with you had set him ablaze. That was all the affection he deserved after all he had done, all the pain he had caused. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself if he didn’t put distance between himself and you. He sighed, shaky fingers aggressively running through his blonde hair, pulling at the strands. 

Maybe he deserved to be alone, selfish child that he was. 

He had stopped seeing you after that night, vowing for that to be the last time. He didn’t deserve you, whether you were sleeping or awake. He deserved to be alone, just like Heaven had wanted him to be. 

But something had changed within the walls of your room once he shut that door for the final time. 

A mistake. A failure. A disappointment. 

These words rattled around your skull, whispers tugging at your subconscious until they roared into screams. 

Disappointment. FAILURE. Selfish, SELFISH child. Mistake. Mistake. MISTAKE. 

Your head began to pound from the words, your lungs kicking into overdrive as you gulped in air, your eyes flashing open. You coughed, the inside of your mouth feeling as if you had swallowed a mouthful of cotton, and you were grateful it was so dark in this room you were in. Your head still ached, pounding behind your eyes, those awful, awful words echoing around your skull. You tried to sit up, but you were met with excruciating pain zinging up through your bones. Your whole body was sore, muscles cramped and limbs weak. Just what the Hell had happened to you? And where were you? This room was unfamiliar; a bed covered in dull-colored, but soft, blankets, empty and blank dressers and shelves, surfaces covered in a thick layer of dust. This place wasn’t home. It looked too dreary, too sad, too much in despair to be your home. Where was the color, the personality, the energy you loved to bring to your spaces? No, this certainly wasn’t your place, it didn’t have your mark on it. And whoever it belonged to you weren’t sure you wanted to meet. 

You threw the blankets off of your body, swinging your legs over the bed and standing up, albeit shakingly. But you were determined, and you stayed upright. You surveyed your choices, a door across the room and a window closer by. A few small, and slow, steps later and you were by the window, throwing back the heavy curtains. Well, you were still in Hell, so that was at least a good starting point, the hellish red familiar sky greeting you up above through the panes of glass. But everything else was strange to you. Lush gardens laid out in intricate paths, rows of apple trees dotting the landscape, with a faint golden spiked-tipped metal fence surrounding it all. Certainly this was not your home…but where was your home? You couldn’t seem to recall, racking your brain for details led to nothing but static between your ears. Wherever it was, it wasn't here, and you felt an urge to leave.

Your body moved before your mind could rationalize, your fingers prying at the bottom of the window, trying to get it to open. It creaked and groaned, clearly having been disused for a while, but you managed to open it a foot before the rusty gears gave way, halting all progress. It would have to be enough. So you led with your feet on the sill, attempting to slide but practically throwing yourself out of the window as your limbs were still stiff. You tumbled, somehow landing face-first into the dirt and getting a mouth full of grass on contact. A groan hissed through your lips but you picked yourself up quickly, not wanting to risk being seen by whoever lived here. Scurrying across the yard as fast as your unacclimated legs could carry you, you arrived at your next obstacle; the fencing. 

No gate, not enough space between the bars to squeeze through, and the spikes adorned on top would prevent you from climbing. You mulled the inside of your cheek between your teeth. This may have been a bigger problem than you anticipated. But the thought of going back into that strange and unfamiliar room was enough to spur you forward. You thought, and thought hard, willing a way out to appear, somewhere. Pleading with anybody listening. “I want out. I don’t want to go back.”

You honestly had doubted anything would come of it, so you nearly jumped out of your skin when a circle of golden and blue light appeared in the middle of the metal bars, creating a straight shot through to the other side. A tunnel that led into the streets of Hell, all you had to do was step through it. 

You didn’t hesitate. 

You soon discovered that whatever had happened to you had left your memory fragmented. You knew this town, these streets, these houses and buildings. But yet your feet didn’t know where to go. The location of home was fuzzy, no matter how hard you tried to focus. Surely you had one, Hell itself still felt like home, you were meant to be here, but beyond that the details were jumbled. Did you have a family down here? Were they looking for you? Just whose house had you been in? And what exactly had happened to you? The amount of questions and lack of answers was making you nauseous. 

You walked aimlessly, hoping something would trigger a memory inside of you if you continuously walked these familiar streets. But with your mind a mess you were preoccupied, an easy target for the more criminal citizens of Hell. It wasn’t long before someone tried to rob you, threatening you to give them what you had in your pockets ‘or else’ and becoming increasingly aggressive when you accidentally ignored them, too caught up in your own thoughts to hear them. You were pulled out of your contemplations when a hand violently yanked your hair from behind, almost pulling you down to the ground from the force alone. 

“Are you stupid or something, you bitch?! Can’t you hear when someone’s talking to you?!” the man behind you screamed in your ear, his fist still entangled in your hair. Tears began to prick in your eyes as pain burned at your scalp, his pull relentless. 

An anger flared in you that you didn't know you were capable of. 

“Fuck off! Leave me alone you piece of shit!” you yelled, twisting in his grip and kicking behind you, aiming for his feet and hoping to stomp on his toes. His hold loosened and you wiggled free, whirling around with your fists balled and raised, two seconds away from decking this bastard straight in the nose. But your arms fell limp to your sides, your mouth falling open in shock when you saw the scene before you; someone had beaten you to it. He was lying on the ground, body thoroughly bloodied and broken, limbs twisted in odd angles as a large pool of blood began to form, bones glistening with sinew in the light. A puff of black smoke dissipated into the concrete around the splintered man as a faint clicking noise came up from behind you, making your ears twitch toward the sound. 

“I believe they asked you to leave them alone.” the clicking noise stopped as someone came to stand right behind you, their voice pitched with a thick layer of static. You turned around on your heels and came face to face with a leering smile, red eyes staring down at you with imposing curiosity. His arms were outstretched to his cane in front of him, his hands resting on the microphone box on top and his weight leaning on the accessory, diminishing his true height by a good deal. He wasn’t quite at eye level with you, but he wasn’t quite towering over you either. 

“I…um…thank you. But I could’ve handled him myself.” You stood tall, not exactly sure what to be expecting from this obviously threatening, but oddly charming, demon in front of you. 

His smile grew impossibly large on his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Well of course you could, dear! But who can’t use a little help now and then, hm?” 

“…right. Well uh…I appreciate the help mister…?”

“Alastor, dear. Pleasure to meet you.” He shifted his weight, standing up straight and swinging his cane to one hand as he held out the other towards you. You took it, hesitantly, but he was having none of your timidness, firmly grasping your hand and giving it a sturdy shake. “And you are?”

The question was simple, but it struck a chord in your mind, making electricity shoot through you right down to your toes. Your name?…What was your name? Why didn’t you know your own name?!

“I, ha,…I don’t know?” you couldn’t help but laugh dryly. It was funny, in a pitiful way. How could someone not know their own identity?

He hummed, eyes squinting as his gaze seemed to consider you. Whether he was scrutinizing you or feeling sorry for your predicament you couldn’t tell. His plastered-on smile hid everything. But his observing only lasted for a few moments before he suddenly sprung up, his eyes lighting up as his ears perked upwards. He let go of your hand, wagging his finger in the air pointedly. “Well that just won’t do! Say, I know of the perfect place for someone like you, run by the most charming gal this side of the Pentagram who just loves helping those down on their luck. Sound interested?” His hands found their way to rest atop his microphone again as he proclaimed his offer, his grin growing twice in size. 

You didn’t trust him, something about him just seemed…off. But what other choice did you have? If you followed him you would at least have a roof over your head, a bed to sleep in, a place to stay and rest while you figured everything else out and pieced your fractured mind back together. You nodded curtly, “Alright, Alastor. Lead the way.” 

“Splendid, dear! Simply splendid!” He hooked an arm through yours excitedly, his height making it a little awkward but you had no time to oppose as he began swiftly guiding you down the street. “Oh you’ll love it there, I guarantee it! She hosts one of the best hotels around!”

To be continued in Chapter 4...

Taglist - Let me know if you would like to be added!

@kyo-kyo1

[cathwritestragediesnotsins]

Posting drafts

Bakugou x reader

“Katsuki! What the hell happened?”

The current number 2 hero stood just outside the doorway of my apartment, hunched over, one hand gripping his side in pain and the other clutching the doorjamb to keep himself upright.

“Oh my god, did you just come from a fight?? Why aren’t you at the hospital??”

I reached for him even as I scolded him with my words, trying to help keep him upright while also ushering him into my apartment but he stopped me, pushing my hand away gently.

“Y/n…..” he said my name so softly, with such vulnerability. His head was tilted towards the floor so I couldn’t see the look on his face, but it almost sounded like he was…crying?

He lifted his head to look at me then, his face now inches from mine due to the way he towered over me. I was right, his crimson eyes shone with unshed tears.

“I haven’t done it yet, I haven’t become the number one hero. But I….I thought for a moment I wasn’t going to make it out….and there’s still so much I need to tell you.”

He was speaking so pleadingly, I wasn’t used to this side of him. Sure he had opened up to me before, but I’d never seen the look in his eyes right now before. Like he was begging.

“Kats, what are you talking about? We need to get you help. You’re still bleeding.” I try to reason with him, but I know it’s useless. Whatever it is he’s trying to say he has decided he wants to say it now. And if there’s one think I know about Bakugou Katsuki, it’s that when he’s decided something he makes it happen.

“Just wait dammit” he grits out between clenched teeth. This is the Katsuki I’m familiar with: all harsh words and biting tone. But it’s a weak attempt.

“I promised myself, that one day, when I was number 1, when I was worthy, I would ask you to be mine. I’m breaking that promise now, because I realize that I was fucking stupid. All this time spent waiting, I should’ve just told you how I felt.” His fist clenches against the doorway in frustration. “I thought, if I proved I was better than that dumbass Izuku that you would choose me. But I don’t want to wait anymore.”

My mind is reeling trying to take in his words as well as the fact that the man I love is bleeding on the carpet of my apartment building. I open my mouth to speak but it takes a moment for my brain to form the words.

“Izuku? What? What do you mean?”

He scoffs then, lowering his head again. “You know that idiot is in love with you right?…..we both are.”

Love. Izuku….and Katsuki….are in love with, me?

“Katsuki, stop messing around…” I say, but I know he’s not.

He lifts his head so he’s eye to eye with me again, it looks like it takes more effort this time which concerns me.

“Dumbass” his eyes are soft as they look into mine. “You didn’t know?”

My eyes are filling with tears and I’m not quite sure why. I think back on everything, all of our interactions.

“You…love me?” I say, needing to hear him say the words outright to be able to believe them. Afterall, this isn’t just my Katsuki, this is the number 2 hero in all of Japan, one of the most popular celebrities in the world for his looks and passion.

“Yes.” He says quietly. “I love you Y/n. I always have.” He looks so resolute as he says it. Still vulnerable and broken, but also determined.

I don’t even think about it before I’m reaching to cup his jaw in my hands and pulling him into me. And then I’m kissing him. He’s kissing me. After all this time, waiting, pining, I am kissing Bakugou Katsuki. And he’s kissing me back with just as much passion and urgency.

I try to pull back after a moment, suddenly remembering the situation we’re in, but his lips chase mine. He steps forward into me and captures me into another kiss. I make a noise of disagreement in the back of my throat and place my hands on his chest to push him back. By that time we’re both breathless.

“Kats, you’re bleeding.” I remind him.

He laughs and cracks a mischievous smile at me “It’s not my blood”

I look at him in blank shock for a moment before wrinkling my nose and pulling away “ew oh my god that’s worse”

His chuckle turns into a full blown cackle at my disgust. I glare at him as he laughs until he winces and grips his side.

“Alright, you might not be bleeding but you still need medical attention” I chastise him, motioning to where his arm was still cradling his abdomen.

“Calm down princess” he says, smirking fondly at me once again. “I already checked in with the EMTs after the fight, just a few bruised ribs. They put me on leave for a week.” His hand comes up to cup my cheek like I had done to him moments ago. “You should see the other guy.”

I roll my eyes at his cocky attitude but I can’t help smiling as well.

“So,” he pulls me in so that our foreheads are resting against each other. “Can I take that as an ‘I love you too’?”

I nod, his ash blond hair tickling the crown of ny head as I do so. “Yes. I love you too Katsuki.”

[technofeudalism]

i will confess. i hate the Democrats for a lot of reasons. like a lot of reasons. i've posted about them excessively. but giving this donkey brained, pointless, chronically incorrect fool a platform is the perfect example of why i hate them so much. i am sorry to go on a cooking spree but i have to do it.

keep in mind, this is a person that the Democrats gave a microphone and speaking time at the DNC instead of a Palestinian speaker. here she is giving her speech, which was about representing the young voters of the United States.

this person is exactly what is wrong with the way the Democratic party thinks and operates. somehow, in spite of her ridiculous opinions, she is only 22 years old and therefore, she's held up by Democrats as an example of the party's "youth movement." what you're gonna see below is their messaging. they own the rhetoric as much as she does.

here's the message she's delivering today to her massive audience (326k followers) re: the outcome of the 2024 election and the events of the last 24hrs. think about all of the horrific things that Donald Trump has announced he's going to do, then look at what she is focusing on and how many views, likes and overall engagement it is getting, and the following of young adults she has tried to cultivate.

Olivia Julianna should not be considered your ally in any way. she should be chased away from politics completely. she should go away forever. the only reason she has any notoriety in the first place is because Matt Gaetz is a massive piece of shit who unnecessarily insulted her appearance repeatedly. that does not give her political credibility, no matter how much of a pedophile loser Matt Gaetz is.

at the end of the day, that kind of thing is extremely unnecessary because… i mean… there's no other way to say it. she's stupid. it's so easy to focus on that. whether it's naturally or she's monetizing it, i don't know. but for context, she is from Houston (pop 2.3m) and Joe Biden is from Scranton (pop. 75k), which was like 8x the size before his family moved away in 1953.

this is a person who was still advocating for Joe Biden to stay in the race the day before he dropped out and telling the media 2 weeks prior that a House Rep - the first to call for Biden to get out, who has served in the House 30** (not 20) years - that he should sit down and shut up. look at the timing on that.

he won re-election by 50 points by the way.

she never acknowledged that she was wrong the entire time about Joe Biden and still has not to this day. she said several awful things in defense of his Gaza policy that she has also never apologized for.

here is what she flipped to talking about when Kamala became the nominee. this is barely scratching the surface.

this was what she said about donating to DSA (yes they have their own problems, but people were looking for a way to organize) hours after Trump was declared the winner of the election and everything leftists have been saying for a year was validated:

as with all of my long posts, none of this is intended to be a dunk fest and if it comes off that way, it's not my intention. it's just getting increasingly difficult to talk about politics in this country without coming apart at the seams with contempt.

this is just a warning that if you see this seemingly "left-leaning" Gen Z influencer roasting conservatives on social media, just nod and keep scrolling. the less engagement this person gets, the better off we are. if the Democratic party is promoting them at all at this point, they should be endlessly questioned and critically examined.

[plasticlung]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　/for the sake of the familyㅤ 𓌔ㅤㅤ♰ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ a buck\eddie fake date ft. maddie\chimney .

╰ — based on @pretty-fishy 's fake date post . ╰ — dt : @my-brain-soup , @ten-racoons-in-a-trench-coat , @joannte . ╰ — read it in full on ao3 : here ! ╰ — excerpts below the cut !

The nurse life isn’t glamorous, but it is interesting. Well, at least it is until you are stuck filling out paperwork during the downtime of your twelve hour shift. Eddie Diaz was in a groove though, letting the background noise of low chatter, beeping monitors, and ambulance sirens to blur into one another, his palm was smudged with black ink, but he was unstoppable. At least he was unstoppable until Maddie Buckly jumped up on the desk, thankfully missing the half–filled intake form pile. “I need a favour.”

Her voice was low and rushed. And Maddie, she isn’t always one to ask for help, at least not for the trivial things, although she is getting better at asking for a shift cover. One that Eddie is more than happy to give even at short notice considering how much shifts of his she has covered without complaint. “What kind of favour ? I’m not doing another night shift with Mary, she gets mean after 7pm.”

Maddie’s lip twitched at that, like she wanted to smile but she was too stressed to. Something he knew one or two things about. “No, not that. I can deal with her,” she looked out towards the door, where people were walking by and not paying attention to anything happening there. “Something bigger. Like– way bigger.” 

“How big are we talking ?” Eddie asked warily and leaned back in the chair, twirling the pen in his hand. In all seriousness, Maddie and him have had each other’s backs since he joined the hospital staff, if she needed something from him that bad, he doesn’t think there is anything he’d say no to. “Spill it, Buckley. You’re making me nervous.”

Maddie took a deep breath at that, running a hand through her hair. “My parents are… they’re really intense. Pushy really.” She huffed. “And now that I’m out of the– Now that I’m single, they won’t back off about micromanaging my love life.” Eddie hummed to show he was listening but wasn’t about to interrupt her. He was there for Maddie’s aftermath of Doug, she spent more time in his house crying then in her parents house. 

And he’d heard bits and pieces about Maddie’s overbearing parents; not much, but enough to know that pushy would be an understatement, that they were judgmental and were way too invested in Maddie’s life, especially when it comes to her love-life and ‘getting grandbabies’. 

“That sucks, but what does it have to do with me ?” He asked once he realised she was done. Did she want to seek refuge in his house or ?

Maddie bit her lip, not a new habit of hers. “I told them I’m seeing someone.”

“You are ?” Eddie blinked. Surely if she was he would know. The shifts are long and they more or less know everything about each other. Eddie had told her about each and every one of his failing relationships with ex-girlfriends. Maddie shook her head and that’s when the realisation dawned on him like a slow-moving train. “Oh no. No, no, no. Maddie…” He takes it back, maybe he wouldn’t do anything. 

[blueishspace]

(Slay The Watcher route 8 p65)

Mumbo: ... What would we gain if we did?

The Narrator: What would you gain if you didn't? The end of the world and all who live in it. And that's the better option over dying of thirst or hunger or being stuck in this forest for all eternity.

Mumbo: I-

The Narrator: I am an understanding man Mumbo-

Voice of The Zombie: Pftt, as if.

The Narrator: I am, but I have my limits. It's not my fault you have made it your mission to act as annoyingly as possible.

Mumbo: Well it-

The Narrator: I don't care. Every word you have spoke in the last who knows how long has been a waste of everyone's time, we would have already been done if you didn't choose to act like a child.

Voice of The Zombie: ...

Scar: Excuse you!?! That's enough from you "Narrator"!

Voice of The B: I'm just...going to stay out of this.

The Narrator: Is it? Is it enough? Because you two have shown yourself to be incapable of listening to me. It's like trying to talk to a sentient cement wall who somehow managed to get brain damage!

Voice of The Zombie: ... *snort* where did you come up with that.

The Narrator: And you! I let you in because I thought you would help! But you have just been enabling them.

Voice of The Zombie: And I came here thinking you would be reasonable and explain everything... Guess we don't all get what we want do we?

The Narrator: ... Reasonable?

Mumbo: ...?

Scar: I don't like how he said that.

The Narrator: REASONABLE?!?

Mumbo: Uh-

The Narrator: We have known eachother for years Cleo, YEARS. I thought you would at least understand that if I said I couldn't explain then there must have been a reason! But no! You didn't listen!

Voice of The Zombie: You banned me and B-

The Narrator: Temporarily! Only because you were going to say something I begged you not to! I thought you of all people wouldn't immediately think the worst of me just like I didn't think the worst of you when I LET YOU INTO MY-...

. . .

The Narrator: You know what? I don't care anymore. Let the world be destroyed if that's what you want, at least I won't have to deal with traitors like them if you do. I'm done. I quit.

...

...

Scar: ...?

Voice of The B: I feel very unconfortable right now.

Prev Next First

[kykyonthemoon]

7 Days the mini-series

About this series: ✈️

Day 06: My Defender

Immediately after receiving the message, I hurried to the headmaster's office. There, I found Caleb waiting on one of the seats outside. His white uniform was covered in mud, he had bruises all over his body, one side of his face was slightly swollen, and there was a bleeding wound at the corner of his mouth.

"Caleb? What happened to you?"

I sat down beside him and held his hand timidly out of fear of hurting him. Caleb didn't look at me and turned his face away.

"Caleb?" I pulled his hand, still he refused to look at me. So I wrapped him in my arms. "It hurts, doesn't it?"

Caleb sat still and let me hold him for a while longer. Even though he didn’t respond, I could guess what had happened on the way here. I overheard the other students gossiping that there had been a fight between Caleb and another fifth grader, I just didn’t know why.

After a while, Caleb seemed to calm down, he took my hand off and started talking:

“I’m fine. Gran is talking to the headmaster inside.”

“Why didn’t you go to the nurse’s office?”

“I’m all right.”

He responded, even waved his arms and legs to let me know that, unlike the other children who were crying and running into the nurse's office, he was still fine. But I just frowned at him.

“What happened?” I asked. Caleb had never caused trouble at school. He had always been a good student, a well-liked boy by both teachers and his peers. His energy was all for sports and extracurricular activities. I never imagined seeing him in a situation like this.

Caleb didn’t want to tell me, but after some pleading, he finally spoke: 

“They were talking bad about you.”

“Huh?” I was stunned. Caleb simply explained that not everyone in school liked me. They made up stories and said negative things about me out of envy. Those words reached Caleb and turned him enraged. As a result, he gave them all a short trip to the nurse's office.

After hearing this, I gently gripped his hand. The sight of him using Evol to hang a few kids on a tree must have been hilarious. I was very grateful that he was so protective of me. However, I wasn't planning to be the cause of his troubles.

“I don’t care what they think of me,” I said. “Because they’re not important to me. I only care what Caleb thinks of me…”

“You are the most wonderful person in my eyes!” Caleb replied without a thought. “If anyone dares to say anything bad about you, I’ll put them up the tree again—Ouch…”

Caleb grimaced and gently massaged the wound on his face. I pulled his hand away, saying, “When I fall or get hurt, you always blow on my wound, right?” I puffed out my cheeks and blew gently on the wound on Caleb’s face. HDespite being a little taken aback, he obediently sat still. “After that…”

I leaned a bit closer to him and delicately kissed his injured cheek, just like he had kissed the cut on my palm when I was careless before.

“This is a blessing of speedy recovery for you…”

*

* *

Opening the headmaster’s office door, I saw the kid sitting alone outside. One of his cheekbones was swollen, his clothes were untidy and covered in mud. He peered up at me with determination and a hint of guilt.

“Am I in trouble, Mom?”

In that child, I saw the imprints of the boy who had been by my side many years ago.

“Of course you are. Violence is not the way to solve problems. I've taught you better than that."

The child dropped his head, disappointed. My severe expression eased, and I softly ruffled his hair. "You also need to know that it was the right thing to do to stand up for your friend."

He glanced up at me with a cheerful expression. I added, “However, next time, remember to use your brain, not your brawn. You're just like your father.”

The child smiled and grasped my hand tightly. On the way home, an airship sailed overhead from Skyhaven. The little boy waved up and said:

“I think Dad will be home soon!”

“Let’s hurry then. How about we throw him a lovely welcome back party at home?"