#occasionally I’m seen doing art for fics

[lokilenchen]

I read @fireinmywoods new fic a battuta and I just couldn’t resist drawing them in the way I imagined them while reading 💛💙

[maneskinwh0re]

ghostface!sevika x feminine!reader 👻

impulse fic for arctober 29th {sevika day}

men/minors dni, nsfw 18+

middle pic art creds to @ guccipussay 🖤

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cw: dom!sevika, sub!reader, fem!reader, a man…(reader has a bf but dw he don’t last long :3), blood, gore, violence, cheesy horror movie clichés, implied murders, mask k!nk, choking, kn!fe play, wlw smut!

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♱ halloween night — you sit next your boyfriend, cuddled up on the couch with your legs draped over his lap. his eyes linger up and down the black lingerie dress that hugs your curves, while your own eyes are focused on the horror movie playing on the tv.

♱ saw. a great franchise and the original being one of your all time favorites. as you watch, with every jump scare, your boyfriend grabs at your waist or tickles you, which is usually followed by you screaming and then playfully hitting his arm or chest.

♱ you want to like him. you do like him, but he gets on your nerves. yeah — you often go on errand trips and gym sessions with him and yeah — while you’re there, he occasionally flirts with other women when he thinks you aren’t looking. but spending your favorite holiday with him is a must. after all, what could go wrong with a simple horror movie marathon? everything is perfect, yet the night is still young.

♱ the city has been getting more and more dangerous recently, and as the clock nears midnight, all the kids must’ve gone home. the neighborhood is quiet with the exception of owls and chirping crickets.

♱ suddenly, the movie is interrupted by your phone ringing — a call from an unknown number.

♱ typically, you don’t answer a call unless the number is in your contacts, but your boyfriend irritably pauses the movie and insists you pick it up.

♱ with an agitated sigh, you answer. “hello?”

♱ “hello,” the person says on the other line. the voice is deep with a feminine undertone, laced with a rasp that almost catches you off guard.

♱ “who is this?”

♱ “you tell me your name, i’ll tell you mine.”

♱ “i don’t think so. can i help you?”

♱ “i just gotta ask you one question, baby.”

♱ baby? who does this creep think she is? you can’t help but admit her voice sounds attractive. “yeah? what is it?”

♱ “what’s your favorite scary movie?”

♱ your stomach drops and you end the call with a shudder, tossing your phone to the cushion next to you and breathing slow. something in your gut is telling you not to engage.

♱ “so… who was it?”

♱ “probably just some bratty teenagers prank calling or something.”

♱ “you lying to me?”

♱ “no! what?” you blurt out, almost angered with his distrust towards you. with a huff, you push yourself off your boyfriend’s lap and head towards the bathroom. “keep it paused, gimme five.”

♱ after rinsing your face with water, you take some deep breaths in front of the mirror. calm your nerves, it was just a phone call. the tense feeling in your gut still lingers as you walk back to the living room only to see your boyfriend is nowhere to be found. calling out his name, you sit back down on the couch and pick up your phone to dial his contact.

♱ “ugh- i’m not in the mood for this shit!” you yell out to him as you call his phone.

♱ you hear his phone ring in the other room and decide to make your way to the kitchen. you see it buzz repeatedly on the counter, watching it and zoning out as if waiting... something’s not right. where the hell is he?

♱ “your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging syste-” the sound of your call going to voicemail snaps you back to your senses before hanging up and looking around. you’ve seen too many scary movies to know this is how it all starts, and you try not to let the thought freak you out.

♱ startling you again, your own phone buzzes. unknown caller id. taking a deep breath, you tap the green button on your screen. “hello?”

♱ “hello again, beautiful.”

♱ that damn voice again. your anger rises at the woman on the other line. “what is this? some kind of sick joke? a prank?”

♱ “no no, baby. a game. a real easy one. y’ wanna play?”

♱ “what the f… do i have a choice? what’s stopping me from hanging up right now?”

♱ “maybe it’s your fear that you may not live through this very night.” yeah, right. anyone could make threats like this. she continues through your silence, “you never told me your name…”

♱ “why do you wanna know my name?”

♱ “i wanna know who i’m looking at.” your anger fizzles and breath hitches. fear smothers all the oxygen in your lungs and words are caught in the back of your throat. “you do have a choice, dove— to play or to die.”

♱ “fine,” you agree with a shaky breath, you internally scold yourself for turning to grab the nearest knife. who cares if you’re overreacting? you’re not dying tonight. you grip the knife’s handle tight as you hold your phone up to your ear. you start walking out the kitchen and down the hallway before your question is cut off with her single word. “how do i-”

♱ “colder...”

♱ you stop in your tracks. as a horror film fan, you have yelled at your television screen when a character makes a dumb decision or if you’ve wanted a better plot line. you always thought you would make logical choices if you were ever —hypothetically of course— put in a situation like this. but in this current moment, your head is only clouded with uneasy thoughts and vicious worry. you take a step backwards and start to return to the kitchen.

♱ “warmer… warmer,” her voice trails on as you play the game step by step. you pass the living room and enter the kitchen, stopping when you hear her voice again. “ah ah- cold.”

♱ you turn around and slowly creep your way back to the living room. the thought of her eyes constantly watching causes you to feel a mixture of fear and something else. your short steps continue towards the sofa where you sat care-free maybe only 10 minutes ago.

♱ “warmer… warmer… keep moving, baby. you’re doing so good… red hot. riiight there...” the mysterious woman taunts as you look around. and once you catch the sight behind the couch, you can’t help the horrified gasp and shriek that escapes your lips.

♱ your boyfriend lays motionless, face down on the floor in a pool of his own blood. deep gashes and slices have left his body mutilated. yet no weapon is left anywhere.

♱ fuck. this means she’s already in the house. your heartbeat races and your ears start ringing. no- that’s the phone—the sound of a dial tone. she hung up.

♱ you go to grab a bigger knife from the kitchen but they’ve all been taken. what’s the next best weapon? the only other option you see is the dirty pan that’s been left on the stove from dinner. looks like you’re sticking with the smaller knife you grabbed earlier.

♱ your phone goes off again, causing you to yelp at the ringer and then internally curse yourself for being so jumpy. it’s her again. you try to sound confident, but anxiety and dread involuntarily rises from the back of your throat. “what the fuck do you want?”

♱ “you, baby,” her voice is low and sultry, and you try not to let it get to you.

♱ “you’re psychotic…”

♱ “hm… sorry about your boyfriend. all those muscles didn’t help much,” she replies before ending the call again.

♱ you wander the house, preparing yourself to fight at every corner you turn. “where are you, motherfucker?” you whisper to yourself as you start to creep down the hallway. and before you realize what’s happening, a gloved hand reaches around to cover your mouth from behind, muffling your panicked scream that follows.

♱ your phone drops to the floor as you quickly swing your arm back to stab the tall figure behind you. your aggressive attempt to defend yourself is reversed as the woman dodges the knife and spins you so you’re now pinned against the wall. her right hand still muffles your mouth and the left holds your wrist above your head.

♱ your hold on the knife above you is weak as you freeze in her grip, your free hand clawing at her forearm. you can feel the size of her muscular arms in your struggles. once your vision clears, your squirming slows to a stop as you are face to face —or face to mask— with your intruder. her towering figure is clothed in black-hooded fabric and a long black and white mask is layered over her head, its mouth shaped as if screaming.

♱ you breathe through your nose in short gasps. “look at you… even prettier up close.” she tilts her head as if studying you. you’re unable to see her eyes but it’s obvious she’s looking you up and down as if you’re her next meal. “scream for help and you die. y’ got that, angel?” her hand tightens its grip on your mouth and her tone is short and stiff, like a merciless general commanding orders to a feeble soldier. you confirm you understand with a small nod, eyes still welled with tears until you soon blink them away. once your breaths even, she lowers her hand. “there you go, now was that so hard?”

♱ “what the fuck do you want from me?” you ask accusingly, making sure to not get caught up in anger. luckily, your shaky words don’t provoke her and only bring her to a deep chuckle.

♱ “such naughty language,” she says with a tut, almost amused with your fear as she lifts your chin with a gloved finger. you try so hard to push away the butterflies that form in your stomach. “besides, i thought we went over this already.” she lifts her leg between your thighs, teasingly pressing her knee up against you and trapping your body against the wall. a short gasp escapes your lips at the sensation, and she smirks under her mask. she uses this position as leverage to take the knife from your grip and lazily toss it down the hallway. the sudden sound of it clattering to the floor makes you flinch and her hands quickly return to your wrists, pinning them high above your head. “i’m not going to hurt you, angel,” she whispers, her disguised face leaning in close. “not unless you want me to…” and at the end of her sentence, your name rolls off her tongue. how the hell does she know your name?

♱ “y-you’re a damn creep,” you spit back less harsh than intended, and she can tell your barriers are wavering. if you’re being completely honest with yourself, it’s difficult to focus on your frustration when her actions are affecting your body like this. your mind is fuzzy, your chest feels tight, and your core aches. a moment passes as you stare at the woman in front of you, her broad build dominating your figure. the flesh of your bare thighs involuntarily clench on either sides of her knee. you’re in short, black lingerie… of-fucking-course you’re feeling vulnerable in her arms. “what ‘re you gonna do to me then?”

♱ “only things you want me to do, sweetheart.”

♱ and at this, she has you. her words bring a breathy whimper from your lips and you grind yourself against her knee. like a slut. you’re not proud, but it feels good— fear and distress not dissipating but mixing perfectly with pleasure. it’s exhilarating. intoxicating. arousing. it’s a way you’ve never felt before in relation to sex, with your boyfriend or anyone else for that matter.

♱ “y’ dirty little thing. you like this? tryin to get yourself off at the threat of your fuckin life?” she asks, her degrading tone not doing anything to help you come to your senses. “if y’ want help, jus’ use your words.”

♱ “h-help… please,” you nod up to her, squirming and going to cover your face with your hands until you're reminded of her own gloved hands restricting you by the wrists. you want to hide— hide from her, from your shame, from the lust, from your lack of wanting to fight whatever this is. but as soon as she lowers her hand to feel how wet you are through the fabric of your underwear, all negative thoughts abandon your mind.

♱ “give up the fight, dove.” the masked woman’s voice is rich and warm, and you finally pinpoint her subtle puetro rican accent while she speaks. she feels you relax into her hand at her words and loves hearing the quiet sounds you make as one of her fingers slowly circle your clit through the thin, dampened material.

♱ “i give up- i… i give up. please, just-”

♱ “you want me inside you, baby?” she whispers into the nape of your neck, the bloodied plastic of the mask grazing across your exposed collarbone. your hurried nod cues her to remove her right glove, and her left hand lazily shoves it in the back pocket of her black jeans under her cloak. you catch a glimpse of her veined hand before she pushes your underwear to the side and thrusts two thick digits into your wet cunt. you clench around her middle and ring fingers, watching how white rings of cum drip and gather at the dark skin of her knuckles.

♱ her free hand trails up your chest and grips you by the neck, squeezing lightly and bringing a strained moan from the back of your throat. “been watchin' you for a while now. 've seen the way your fingers wrap around this throat as you touch yourself, thinkin' no one could fill those filthy desires o' yours.” your hands grasp at her forearm again and force her grip harder against you. she chuckles once she realizes what you’re trying to do, and decides to give you what you want, a tightening hold that's hard enough to leave bruising. “you like my hand right here? choking the damn life outta you? y're a sick little slut, it’s adorable.”

♱ as her long fingers thrust and curl inside your heat, you find yourself at her mercy while she fucks you against the wall. the thought of your boyfriend's cold, rotting body in the other room is long gone. and you can only focus on how warm this womanly murderer feels against you, killing just so she can get to you. now that thought is what makes you weak in the knees.

♱ “can y' keep yourself standing, baby? or do i need to fuck you on the floor?” she asks as her fingers quicken their movements.

♱ “mph- i can stand!” you insist, trying so hard to keep your jelly knees from buckling under your limp self. you feel your back start to slide down the wall, disproving your protest. you're visibly unable to hold up the weight of your own trembling body. it's not your fault your trespasser just makes you feel so fucking good. so fucking close... until she stops.

♱ her fingers pull out quickly and she seizes one of your arms, not bothering to wipe your juices off her fingers. you feel how soaked two of her fingers are as her large hand grips your upper arm, tightening to a painful squeeze.

♱ “clearly, you don't have the strength. so we're gonna try s'mthin' new,” she says before tearing your underwear off and throwing you to the wooden floor. you lay there for a moment, shock hitting you as you try to take in oxygen again. facing away from the intruder, you bring your forearms close and try to crawl towards the other end of the hallway. your hips roll to the side with every other crawl so you can rub your thighs together, attempting to recreate that same friction you felt seconds ago.

♱ in the state of hysteria, you miss the foul act of the masked woman tucking your underwear into the other back pocket of her pants.

♱ you turn your head up to see her slowly bending down to pick up the kitchen knife she tossed away minutes ago. you see the back of her head through an opening in the mask's fabric. her dark hair is short, maybe reaches just past her ears. but any further sight of her human characteristics are cut short once she stands up and her posture straightens. her head turns to you. and your breath quickens. she begins walking. every brisk step passes faster than the last as she gains more speed down the hallway, knife clutched in her fist.

♱ is this how it truly ends? a trick to get edged and then end up killed? some scary movie.

♱ alarms blare in your mind and genuine fear takes over as you try to crawl away. prey chased by predator. think y' know who wins in this twisted game.

♱ a gloved hand clutches the flesh on your shoulder and flips you onto your back. you can't seem to help your panicked scream that erupts into the fabric of that same damn glove. she removes her palm with a forceful shove away and pins both your wrists to the floor on either sides of your head. she lowers her body on top of you and straddles your hips, shushing you and reassuring she won't hurt you.

♱ you almost believe her until your frightened eyes watch her arm lift, the knife held tight in her fist. she brings it down hard causing you scream again and squeeze your eyes shut, too scared to watch how she guts you. when you don't feel any pain, you peek an eye open to watch her laugh. laugh at your terror, knife still in hand.

♱ rightfully pissed off now, for both fearing for your life and the pleasure she has delayed you of, you spit up at her ghost of a face. your saliva scatters across the plastic, but surely she felt mist of it directly through the patches of the eyes and mouth. she pauses. and if only you could see that sadistic smirk of hers, just so proud of your little defiant act.

♱ but every bad action has its consequence.

♱ the knife lifts again and is slammed down into the floor, just inches to the right of your head. the handle points up to the ceiling and your ghostface girl guides your hand up and wraps your fingers around it, then follows suit and wraps her own left hand around the handle as well. it's sentimental, you tell yourself as you focus on calming your breathing.

♱ her right hand trails down your chest and returns to its place at your cunt. she teases a finger before pushing in two again, and you can't tell how long she keeps delaying your needed orgasm. one moment, you're a pleading mess. the next, you can't speak because her gloved hand clutches at either your mouth or throat. she smells of dried blood and alcohol, bringing you close only to pause her movements for the second time.

♱ “please, i can't keep doing this. i... need to-” your begs are cut off by her taunting words.

♱ “need to what?” she asks, her mask leaning close to your face. “say it.” her intensity rises a blush to your cheeks, and when you can only let out a shy whimper, she withdraws her fingers from your aching heat again.

♱ ignoring your protests, fusses, and pouts, she shoos your hand off the knife's handle next to your head and yanks it out of the floor in one swift movement. she trails the sharp point of the blade down your torso, from your chest all the way to your mound. you can't help the little buck of your hips as the cold metal lightly grazes your clit.

♱ that little movement brings her to a chuckle. “i know a lot o' things about you, dove. but i wasn't sure you'd crave knife play this badly.”

♱ you can only muster a strained groan. and with that, she flips the weapon and gently pushes the handle into your soaking walls. the most provocative of sounds is brought at the contact, and it's music to her ears. she groans in satisfaction and ogles at how well you take it.

♱ her thrusts are slow, careful, gentle, turning and pushing and pulling... mindful of how easily she could injure the flesh of your inner thighs or even your pretty pussy with one wrong move. her skilled hands work you up again, probing your body with her calloused skin.

♱ you feel that knot in your core grow tighter and tighter. in a moment of impulse, your shaky hands reach up to grab hold of the ghostface's mask and pull it up to reveal your intruder's real identity. she just lets you, casually watching your wide-eyed reaction to her appearance as she fucks you faster.

♱ she's fucking gorgeous. you first notice her eyes, a shining grey in contrast to her darker skin. her nose is wide and hooked, her lips are plump and soon turn upward in a sly smirk as you study her. she notices your focus lingering at her lips, so she allows herself to lean in and place a light kiss to your slightly open mouth. your jaw is slack as you continue to take staggered breaths, yet you want more. you chase the kiss once she begins to pull away. connecting your panting mouth to hers again, she pushes her tongue into your mouth with a groan and swallows every sweet whimper she brings from the back of your throat.

♱ the handle of the knife continues to pump in and out of your leaking cunt. she knows you won't last much longer. you can't. you break the kiss at the last possible moment to gasp for air, and she uses that short second to pull her ghostface mask back down with her gloved hand.

♱ she wants her lips to be on yours again, but she'd be damned if she returns to the sensation. she's already internally scolding herself for becoming too attached to the taste of you, but she is just loving how you make vulgar curses sound sweet in the ways they spill from your panting lips. “f-fuck, fuck! i'm gonna-”

♱ “i know, baby, i know,” she says, her deep voice slightly softens as she speeds up her pace and grazes your clit with her thumb. “sevika,” her deep voice mutters close to your ear. and when you bite her clothed shoulder as a way to mute your own uncontrollable whimpers and moans, her gloved hand returns a threatening squeeze to your throat. after forcing you back down to the floor, she speaks again. “scream for sevika. scream my name as you cum on my fingers, dove...”

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♱ blue and red lights move across the walls through the windows. the blaring sounds of sirens are heard from outside. you think you find peace until you hear muffled yells from police officers at your front door, warning anyone who is in the entryway that they're breaking it down. you hear a countdown and loud pounding, but the ringing in your ears is louder.

♱ by the time the officers run down the hallway and get a sight of you, there's scattered radio chatter followed by paramedics springing into action and bombarding you with questions.

♱ “ma'am, can you hear me?” ... “can you tell me your name?” ... “have you been stabbed?” ... “is there anyone else in the apartment with you?” ... “who did this?”

♱ you're coughing and sputtering. your body is in a heap of blood, sweat, and tears (and cum but it's not as noticeable). at this point, you only remember little flashes.

♱ sevika. you never got to tell her how pretty that name is. you remember the outlines of her face. the trace of her fingers... the trace of that knife before it was plunged into you. not deep, nor anywhere vital. you remember being in that post-orgasm gaze... a whisper in your ear — “for evidence...” — and then a sharp pain sliding its way in and out of your side, bringing you to a pile of blood and pained tears on the floor. you were already covered in sweat — she had made sure of it, but then she had to go ruin you again. ruin your body twice.

♱ a flashlight is shining in your eyes, bringing you back to the present as well as attention to the obvious growing blood stain in your clothing. your breathing becomes strained and labored as your vision starts to cloud.

♱ “victim has three visible injuries-” you overhear paramedics take note of your body's condition as they bring in a stretcher to carry you. “stab wound and two abrasions, neck and chest...”

♱ a subtle grin sneaks its way onto your face once you realize why sevika left you in an open pile on the floor. she didn't want to kill you, but she also didn't want to see your name in a court file. seems like getting found with a stab wound would lower your chances of being high suspect for your boyfriend's murder. they have no other leads so far, but sevika made it seem like you were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

♱ you know police will pester you with further questions and investigations, but you don't care. your lips are sealed.

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♡ this was so rushed i actually don’t like it but WHATEV

♡ hope y'all enjoyed! lmk if y'all want this to be a series bc i love halloween too much to only post spooky themes once a year...

- 🐝

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tag list: @lovinglywriting ♡

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Would you consider a request for teenage Suguru and Reader having meet-cutes when he attends missions? She's an amateur photographer who can see Curses, and is desperately trying to catch one on camera. He keeps finding her in dangerous places, but she's really persistent with it, even when he's telling her off 💀😶‍🌫️

Snapshots and Sorcery

A/N: Hi anon! Sorry this took so long. Thank you for such a cute and unique idea! I had fun writing this fic. Also I know that in JJK, Nanami specifically says cursed spirits don't show up in photos but let's ignore that and have this be minorly au-ish. Pairing: Teen! Suguru x Fem!Reader Warnings: None! Cute and fluffy. Word Count: 3.8k

Geto Masterlist | JJK Masterlist | Taglist

The first time Suguru laid eyes on you, it was at a run-down museum that had shuttered closed years ago. The museum was already doing poorly long before it closed, unable to bring in enough revenue, until the bank had seized its assets, and the poor curator had hung himself from the neck of the apatosaurus model in the dinosaur wing.

It was rumored the apatosaurus was haunted, roaring and coming to life at night, thrashing around, and reducing the other exhibits to pieces. Sometimes, the occasional high school student would drop by and peek in through the windows on a dare, then hearing the eerie noises coming from inside the building, make a break for it. The ones that stayed too long were never seen again. 

This is why Geto is here now, creeping stealthily through the museum, the eerie look of the shattered exhibits casting distorted shadows across the length of the corridors as he surveyed for the cause. Although he had been told the curse would most likely be haunting the dinosaur wing, he couldn’t shake off the feeling of another presence nearby, emanating a tinge of cursed energy, but not enough for him to believe it could cause him harm. Just as he’d entered the museum, he’d seen a quick flash of silver making a dash towards the back of the atrium towards the birds exhibit. 

The displays looked uncanny, the taxidermied birds all out of place inside the glass displays, the ones that remained intact staring at him with unseeing, glassy eyes. It was unsettling, then as he rounded a corner, he saw another flash and breaks into a run. The sound of frantic footsteps fills his ears. Worried about losing his quarry, he quickly summons one of his curses, the manta ray one, and lets it loose, the creature quickly flying down the corridor. A shriek followed by muffled shouting fills the narrow space as Geto hurries to catch up.

Whatever it was got caught under the curse, wriggling like a mouse beneath a carpet. Cautiously, Geto calls off the curse and is surprised to see a human underneath. Defiantly, you lift your face to him, ready to fight to the death. For a second, your appearance throws Geto off—a beautiful face, followed by a lovely, feminine body. 

“You’re not a curse.” 

You scoff, fixing sharp eyes on him. “Well aren’t you a genius?” you ask sourly, sizing him up. Despite your irritation, you can’t help but notice the appeal of your assailant, the tall, broad youth with his hair up in a bun. Amethyst eyes focus on you and he seems temporarily at a loss of what to do next. 

“What are you doing here?” Geto demands, acutely aware of how this could throw off his mission. No one had mentioned a civilian being present. You scowl and cross your arms over your chest, and that’s when he notices a strap dangling from your arm, and hanging from it, the source of the flashes of silver he’d been seeing; a fancy-looking point-and-shoot camera. 

“None of your business,” you say stubbornly and Geto scoffs. 

“It is my business if you’re going to cause trouble for me. What’re you carrying that around for anyway?” He gestures to the camera.

“Creepy, allegedly-haunted museum. Thought it would make for a good art study.” Your words were too crafted and came too easily, an evasive quality to them.

“Oh, right, and I’m just supposed to take your word for it?” Geto carefully studies you. Just enough cursed energy, but not enough to be a sorcerer. 

“Well, why are you here?” You shoot his question back to him. “And what kinda uniform is that? I’ve never seen a student wearing that uniform around here before.”

Geto is about to reply, but he’s cut off as he senses a rapid movement of energy coming from the opposite side of the building. Whatever the curse was, it appeared to have scented him, and he had no time to waste chit-chatting.

“Look, I have something to take care of,” he says, urgency creeping into his voice. “If you know what’s good for you, please get out of the museum.”

“Why? It’s a free country. I can-” You stop as an unnatural, hair-raising shriek is heard, echoing from the opposite end of the bird exhibit. You shoot a look at Geto and both of you go tearing off in the opposite direction. 

“I’m Geto Suguru,” he says as you both run, hearing heavy footsteps chasing after them. You manage to give him your name as both of you hurtle out of the birds wing and turn into the entomology section. The curse, thrown temporarily off track, pauses and goes in another direction.

“Look,” Geto says in a whisper, “You need to get out of here. It’s dangerous. I-”

“Then why are you staying? Isn’t it dangerous for you too?” Geto looks at you curiously and something in his brain clicks. 

“You can see them, can’t you?” He asks, and for a moment, you’re startled, looking at him with wide eyes. 

“Yes,” you admit after a beat. “Oh, God! Finally! Someone who can see them too!”

“What’s with the camera?”

“No one believes me when I tell them there are…things. So I was trying to catch one on film.”

Geto looks disbelievingly at you, then shakes his head. “Trust me, it’s not worth your life trying to get a picture of a curse. Now please get out of here so that I can exorcise it.”

“Exorcise? What are you, some sort of priest?”

“A sorcerer,” he admits.

“But this might be my only chance, I-”

“Trust me, it won’t be. There are curses everywhere. But this one is particularly powerful and nasty. Better luck with something less vicious.”

“But I-” You gasp as the curse suddenly makes an appearance, crashing through another entrance at the far end of the exhibit. It was truly grotesque, like a decaying dinosaur carcass come to life, with no skin on its body, eyes red and wild. 

Geto immediately springs into action, calling forth another curse from his arsenal. You can’t tear your eyes away from the scene, your heart hammering in your chest as the handsome youth you had known for all of five minutes goes charging into the fray. The most strange and curious creatures came forth as he summoned them, a small agile human compared to the monstrous dinosaur he was fighting. You attempted to take a picture but with all the movement, each shot was blurred.

You’re praying nothing happens to Geto, then finally, 2 of his curses distract the dinosaur long enough for him to begin the exorcism. With a roar that shook the whole museum, Geto begins to suck the curse into his palm. You watch in wide-eyed fascination, the camera forgotten in your hands as the behemoth swirls into black mist, then becomes encapsulated into a black sphere contained neatly in Geto’s palm. Silence falls through the room, and with a shaky breath, you approach Geto. 

“That was pretty neat,” you say, trying not to tremble. Geto looks at you, then at the orb sitting in his palm like a huge black pearl. 

“Look,” he says sympathetically. “I can understand why you want to photograph a curse. But I’m also telling you it’s dangerous and you could get hurt. You could even die. Haven’t the reports of the missing high school students scared you enough to not want to see one ever?”

You shake your head no. “That’s not going to stop me. I need to prove I’m not crazy. Everyone thinks I’m a freak.”

“I know you’re not crazy. Isn’t that enough?” When you remain silent, he huffs in frustration. “Look, I know it sounds bleak, but trust me. It’s better to live knowing there’s someone who believes you, than dying trying to prove to everyone else that doesn’t.”  

He pats your shoulder, a friendly gesture no doubt, but it sends a current of heat through your body, making you blush. You hoped the lack of lighting in the museum would hide your reaction to him.

The both of you walk together towards the entrance in silence, your heart hammering as you get outside and you see his face in the light. A handsome face, clearly on the brink of manhood, looks down at you with a stern expression.

“Well. Take care of yourself. And no more chasing curses. I hope we don’t meet again. At least, not under such grim circumstances.”

Before you could respond, he was walking away, vanishing into the night.

The days that follow are spent combing through the camera, but all photos of the curse were a waste, too blurry to be salvaged. However, there were several of Geto, and you can’t stop from poring over his face, remembering the way he’d moved and quickly contained the curse, effectively saving your life in the process. You hated to admit it, but you were smitten with him.

He had called himself a sorcerer. You wished you had asked for his phone number before he’d vanished. Partly because you wanted to ask him more questions, but also because you’d never had someone in your life who you could talk to about curses, as he’d called them. He knew you weren’t crazy. That thought gave you so much hope, that there was someone who believed you, who saw the terrible things you saw.

It had taken months for you to work out the curse’s location in the museum. You wondered if you managed to find another one…would he be there?

With that, you start an internet search, looking up haunted locale and areas reporting missing people within Tokyo. 

»•» 📷 «•« “Not you again!”

Geto lets out an exasperated sigh as he sees you lingering near the entrance of an old, ruined temple, tucked away in an isolated, mountainous region outside of the city. 

You grin, trying not to let on how eager you are to see him, almost skipping over to him as he rolls his eyes. Admittedly, it had been a chance to go to this location, but you couldn’t be more pleased that your guess was correct. 

“You have a death wish, don’t you?” 

“So do you if you work as a sorcerer,” you bite back, now next to him. Your trusted camera hangs from your arm and he groans at the sight.

“You still haven’t given up the idea of catching one of these things on camera?” he asks, irritated.

“Nope! And I figured, with a sorcerer by my side, I might actually capture a picture, and leave the place alive.”

Geto rolls his eyes at your persistence. “You are not following me in there.” 

“Oh please. Like that’ll stop me.”

“This curse is too dangerous.”

“Do you just say that for all the curses you handle?” you ask in a bored tone. 

“No. You just happen to be at places where the really dangerous ones nest. Are you like a magnet or something? Just…pulled in even against better judgment?”

“Then what does that make you?”

The defiant way you say it makes him snort. “I’m not here out of morbid fascination. I’m here because this is my job.”

He says the words with a touch of finality and turns to walk into the temple, then yells out in dismay as you run past him. He catches up to you quickly, grabbing hold of your wrist and making your heart pound in your chest which had nothing to do with the exertion from running.

“Don’t make me drag you out of here. I’ll place one of my curses near the entrance to watch you so that you can’t get in.”

When you continue to pout he sighs. “You really want a picture huh?”

You nod enthusiastically. “I really do.”

And I want to see you again. 

The words form in your mind, unbidden. “Isn’t there any way you can tell me if a curse is dangerous or not? All I want is the one picture.”

“And you’d stop putting yourself in danger?”

“Yes! Promise!”

Geto tsks impatiently, wanting to finish his mission as quickly as possible, then relents as you continue looking at him like a puppy.

“Fine,” he says indignantly pulling his mobile phone from his pocket. “What’s your number?”

You blink. “You’re asking for my number?” You try not to sound breathless.

“Yes.” There’s a bite of impatience in his voice. “C’mon, hurry up I haven’t got all day.”

You quickly recite your number, and he saves it, sending you a text to confirm. Your face is a little too pink when you get his text, but you look at him neutrally as he heads inside.

“Please don’t follow me,” he says and there is a tinge of concern in his voice.

“Scout’s honor,” you say, striking the gesture with your fingers, and he throws you a glance over his shoulder that could’ve suggested amusement before being swallowed by the temple entrance. 

Almost a month passes by before you see him again.

Geto was always busy and away on some mission or another. The last few curses had all been classified as a grade 2 or higher, so you hadn’t had an opportunity to take a picture just yet.

However, of late, he’d been texting you after getting back to his dorm room from missions, asking about your day and how you were doing. Used to being the weird girl, isolated, misunderstood, because you could see cursed spirits, you had never experienced this kind of amity before. You’d text him late into the night, waiting up for him sometimes until he texted first.

One night, you were restless. It had been weeks since you last saw him, and when he texted you, confirming he was back in the city, you boldly asked if he wanted to go into the shopping district with you. You didn’t need anything, but there was a weird emptiness inside you, a need to see him again, to convince yourself he was real, this person who finally understood the frustration you’d experienced your whole life. He was sympathetic to you, telling you that this was a classic age-old problem between sorcerers and regular humans. 

“We’re kind of like the trash cans of society,” he says jokingly, sipping his milk tea as the both of you wandered through the streets, waiting at the signal light to cross. “We get rid of all the garbage that festers from normal humans, yet people always turn up their noses at us.”

You listen to him in fascination, quietly sipping your own tea. “I wish I could be a student at your high school,” you murmur. Geto’s expression changes slightly, as though he’s weighing what he should say next. The bright lights of the shopping district float around you as wait for his next words. 

“I understand why you’d feel that way. But trust me you don’t.”

“Trust me I do. At least no one will think I’m the weird girl. No one will doubt me if I say I see something, because you can see it too.”

“Yes, but it’s also mission after mission. Death. Risking your life. You saw what happened at the museum.”

“But your life is so cool! You said you can control the curses you absorb right?” You falter at the look on his face, displeasure falling over it like a veil.

“Do you know how I absorb those curses?” he asks quietly, all traces of geniality disappearing from his voice. The unexpected harshness catches you off guard. Swallowing, you venture a guess.

“You put them into those spheres right?”

“That’s to contain them. Do you know what happens after that?” Geto looks like his milk tea was suddenly replaced by sludge. You meekly shake your head no, his demeanor starting to frighten you a little bit. “I swallow them. I literally eat them. Do you know what it’s like, eating a cursed spirit?” He pushes on, not bothered to hear your response. 

“It tastes like a rag that’s been used to wipe up shit and vomit. And I do this over and over again because it’s what’s expected of me. I’ve never been allowed to make a choice that doesn’t surround jujutsu. I can’t leave, because what would happen to humanity, the non-jujutsu humans?” All the bitter feelings he’s been bottling up come spilling out. He couldn’t believe that you wanted his life, especially not after seeing the kinds of situations he’s put into regularly.

No one understood him, not even at school, because curse absorption was such a rare ability. Even if he tried to put it into words, he knew how everyone would react; like it was his duty to continue to do it even if he hated it, treated like some sort of heroic martyr for protecting the human race. For once, he’d love to be you, able to see cursed spirits, but having zero obligation to do anything about it. The appeal of the milk tea dissipates, and he throws it into a trash can, disgust lining his face as his feelings about sorcery start bubbling up.

“I can never think of having a normal life. Going into something other than sorcery, or to just have a selfish moment where if I don’t want to take on a cursed spirit, I can say no and walk away.” He starts walking faster and you’re almost sprinting to keep up with him.

“Geto!”

“You don’t understand how lucky you are! I’d pick being the class weirdo any day over having to absorb a cursed spirit.”

You hurry behind him, trailing in his wake, worrying you have ruined everything. “Geto please- I didn’t mean-”

“I’d love to be normal! To go on a date, maybe hold hands, maybe even kiss a girl if I get lucky! Where’s the time for that? If I’m absorbing cursed spirits all the time? I know what it tastes like! Who would want to be with me? Who would want to kiss me?” 

You’ve both walked a reasonable distance from the main shops onto a waterfront shopping strip. It was quieter here, a pleasant breeze flowing through the night air as Geto heatedly walked towards the railing, you scurrying behind him. You manage to catch hold of his hand and to your relief, he doesn’t pull away.

“Geto.” Your heart aches for him. “I’m sorry I brought it up,” you mumble, wishing he’d turn around and look at you. He peers over the railing at the water, watching little lily pads float on the surface.

The silence between you both is deafening. Treading carefully, you try to talk to him again, keeping your voice gentle. “Geto, before I met you, do you know what my life was like? With everyone thinking I was a liar? Or that I was making up things to get attention?” 

When he doesn’t say anything, you continue. 

“I had no one. Everything changed when I met you. I felt like…someone finally gets it. And it’s not just me who can see those awful things. They really exist, and there are lots of people who can see them. It made me feel…a little less alone.” 

He turns to look at you, his expression doubtful and your heart skips a beat as you realize you're still holding his hand, the tension between you both blossoming like springtime wildflowers. 

“You said you wanted…to hold hands. To kiss someone.” You draw closer. “What would you do…If I said…I want to do those things with you?”

His eyes widen as you get closer but he doesn’t push away. “I’d ask you if you were sure because you might be making a mistake.”

You shake your head. “I’m positive I’m not making a mistake.”

His hand, the one you’re holding onto tightens around your smaller one and pulls you against him. You inhale, his skin smelling wonderful and his chest so big and broad and warm. 

“Geto…” Your voice is lost amidst the tangle of nerves and rush of excitement, both hearts hammering in their chests. Shy inexperience made both of you blush before you raised your head, and Geto’s tips downwards, and your lips met gently, a subtle brush against the other before breaking away. You giggle awkwardly, unable to stop and Geto also grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. 

“Um…that was nice,” he murmurs, not looking at you and chuckling, unsure what to say. 

“Was that a good first kiss?” 

“Oh!” Geto now laughs too but still doesn’t pull away, instead, maintains proximity with you, and brushes some loose hair away from your face. “Uh, yeah. It was…like how I imagined it.”

Silence falls between you both, not an uncomfortable one, but the kind where both kissers are considering if they should change topics or kiss again to make sure the first one wasn’t imagined. 

Geto’s eyes suddenly widen as he sees something floating near your head. He pulls you close to him, then huffs as he sees a harmless flyhead, then with a jolt of realization, he taps your shoulder.

“Flyhead curse! It’s harmless! Take your picture now!”

“What?” you look over your shoulder and see the creepy-looking gremlin of a creature then gasp. “I don’t have my camera!”

“Phone! Quick!” Without hesitating, Geto reaches out and grabs the flyhead which struggles and buzzes angrily but is too weak to try escaping. It squirms and tries to sink its little teeth into Geto’s fist and he shakes it angrily. 

“Hurry up!”

With hands trembling in excitement, you pull out your phone and quickly snap a crystal-clear picture the the ugly critter. It makes a low grumbling noise and Geto throws it away into the air. It mutters angrily at him before zooming away.

“Shouldn’t you have exorcized that?” you ask, looking in awe at the photo on your phone. 

“Nah. It’s pretty harmless. Chances are it’ll get squished by a lower-rank sorcerer by daybreak.”

Your cheeks are red with happiness, triumph glittering in your eyes. “I can’t believe it, I actually got a picture of it…” You rake a hand through your hair.

Geto silently watches your outburst of enthusiasm, a smile tugging his lips. “So what’s more exciting - you finally catching a curse on camera, or the fact that you just had your first kiss and it was with me?” His voice is soft and teasing and you roll your eyes but fail to control the dusting of pink in your face.

“I think I need to experience it again before I can decide.”

“Is that right?” Suguru smirks before pulling you closer to him. “Let’s see if we can help you make a decision.”

You grin widely before your lips touch again, and you knew it had never been a question from the start. 

@estarlias @daswanj @actuallysaiyan @whatshernameis

@byul9158 @mirrors-musings @Mangiswig

@that-goth-bisexual @connorsui @jadedjane @darkstarlight82

@soft--cherry @galactict3a @hunnie-lily

[ieetbeez]

Small Rant About RE

Hello gang... This has been on my mind for awhile. Today we're talking about Resident Evil and particularly Leon stans. Now I'm gonna come out and say I am one of them! I love that silly little blonde man and he's like number 1 on my favorite capcom white boy tier list next to Cody from Final Fight/SF.

tw: mentions of rape, pedophilia, incest, abuse, and my opinion

Let me make it clear, I'm not kink shaming, I'm not advocating for censorship. Art and literature shouldn't be censored. Sex is cool. Kink is cool (when safe and consensual).

I'm gonna be one of those fans real quick and say, I've been an RE fan since I was like 7. That doesn't really mean much since I can't drink legally but I've been in love with Leon since elementary school. I watched my Dad and brother play RE6 co-op and man... Aka I've been in the fandom for a fat minute. Before the RE2 remake came out I'd see the occasional Dead Dove fic but that's whatever. But I have never seen this much dark romance about Leon of all people!

Like. Call it the T-Virus the way it's everywhere I swear I can't scroll down the damn tag without getting hit with a sexual crime. And let me say, I'm not new to fandom culture. I take don't like don't read to heart (I'm super picky LMAO). And I understand that, that's just how big fandoms are, more people, more bad eggs. I'm sure the majority of y'all are sweet people.

BUT I feel like I shouldn't have to say that romanticizing things like pedophilia, rape, abuse, and incest is disgusting in the big year 2025 but here we are. Honestly, I feel this way about a lot of the fics of other fandoms I'm in. I feel crazy seeing it everywhere and it makes me feel like some sort of sexual puritan. Am I insane for wanting freaky smut and not ...freaky smut??

There for sure is a bigger conversation here about how easily accessible porn is and how quick people to fall into these pipelines. Or how booktok caused a rise in the normalization of dark romance troupes and just pure porn writing (I still hate icebreaker). Or how quick form constant content is slowly leaking it's way into everything. But we’d be here for forever…

And like, it's just completely out of character?? Like if you're gonna write about that can it at least be in character? Wesker fits the dark romance thing LEAGUES better. But LEON?? THE POLICE OFFICER?? Did you even watch a walkthrough? Leon is a sweet upstanding guy with lots of trauma, that is the last thing he'd do to ANYONE! Not saying fics have to be completely accurate all the time but there's literally nothing fun about "Omg what if Leon RAPED you!?" HES NOT THE EVIL RESIDENT HERE GUYS! At some point it's not even about Leon (or whoever the fic is about) anymore, it's just someone wanting to share their sexual fantasies online.

These topics are almost never written with any care and are insanely insensitive to the survivors of these acts. I don't know, sexual crimes are literally some of the most deplorable acts of hatred and depravity someone can do onto another person. I can't imagine getting off to the suffering of others (in a heinous crime way not BDSM way) (BDSM is cool). Have some fucking empathy and stop thinking with your goon wad guys <3

Like at least take it to AO3 so that I can filter it out or smth...

Edit: I just woke up and remembered what else I was gonna say.

You can tell a lot about a person by how they treat their fictional characters. Another thing I don’t like are the Gooner mods for the games. Like they’re fun every once in a while and like if it’s a capcom game you have to expect it. At some point though, it just stops being sexy and feels gross or uncomfortable.

Idk maybe I’m in the minority here but there has never been a single time where I was playing any RE game and thought to myself, “man… I wish I could see Leon’s end rod whipping in the wind rn…” Obviously, I wanna see that man oiled up butt booty naked doing jumping jacks like as most normal people do but… zawg…

That’s also like an actual person?? At least for the remakes. Maybe this just isn’t my dove to eat but the treat Leon like some sort doll. I know it’s kinda weak to be like this for a fictional person but yeah </3

[dragonsdendoodles]

What do you like/dislike about mphfpc content (videos, edits, art, fanfics, theories, headcanons, fanons, gacha reactions, etc.)? Do you have any favorite content makers?

I love love LOVE the art, cosplay, and writing in this fandom, it’s fucking FANTASTIC. The video makers too, I don’t know how edits work but they do not miss, they’re awesome.

As for favorite content makers, y’all know I can’t resist bragging about my friends 🥰

@tomouraline is one of my absolute ride or die buddies and makes some AMAZING edits on TikTok (emwyns) and her art??? Chef’s kiss. Absolutely wonderful. Go look at her Emwyn and Fugh art it’s adorable

If you want hollowgast art, @carmine-golde has the most badass designs and definitely my favorite OC to play with, especially paired with the government-assigned ymbryne she gave me in return 🤣

@trainwrecksys with Bentham is me with Enoch. He single-handedly made me like (at least his) Bentham. That’s an achievement, I am stubborn and hold grudges. Go look at his art he will also make you like Bentham (plus his animation skills??????? Give me your BRAIN how do you have the patience for this)

Since we’re talking wights, check out @cauls-antique-pepperbox-pistol for literally everything about Caul and Murnau. He has the COOLEST art style and also the awesomest headcanons ever??? I literally never think about the wights how do you guys come up with these things for them this is COOL

Speaking of cool art styles. @theducklingart has such a fun one omg. His designs for the kids and his own OCs are to die for, and he’s just as fun to talk to as his art is to look at! (Plus he has commissions open y’all should go support him 👀)

If you want absolutely adorable Enorace fics like I always do, @metaphoricallymagpie has some of the sweetest fanfics on AO3 I’ve ever read. I beta read Fortunes and Formaldehyde and the sheer number of times I have kicked my feet and giggled like a madman over her writing omg

@ollibeuu isn’t active anymore, but please please PLEASE go to his AO3 (ollibeu) and check out his fanfics. He inspired me to start writing myself, and I haven’t seen a single one that hasn’t been phenomenal (and I got the opportunity to cowrite one with him! 🤭) I will literally always recommend his work go look at it if you like Enorace

@nerdypeculiar (peculiarinacostume) on TikTok has a V cosplay???? And so many other cool ones????? V, Miss Peregrine, Enoch, and they also make The Owl House and Hazbin Hotel content too??????? Go follow them. Right now. Before the ban please their account is CRIMINALLY underrated

I don’t think @evil-feather even needs an introduction. If you’ve seen her Miss Peregrine, you know she is the QUEEN of that cosplay. Hands down. She’s absolutely fantastic

@peculiar-shark has moved on to comic books (which you should 100% check out their videos on that on YouTube if you’re interested 👀 sunshine_sharkks) but will forever be known as first one of my oldest friends in this fandom but also second probably the biggest design inspiration for my Horace. Their old cosplays on TikTok (peculiar.sharkks) are UNMATCHED

(Honorable mention to my irl best friend literally ever @pixie2k5 who is not in this fandom but is the bestest Emma for my Enoch when we can cosplay together thank you for putting up with my insanity sis ilysm 💚)

I could honestly list so many more because we truly have just the best people ever but I feel like this is getting long 😅 I love literally everybody here and no matter my occasional complaints I’m so proud to be part of this community I love everyone here so much

[morgana-larkin]

Alright, after much research and knowing absolutely nothing about what I’m writing, I finally finished the fic. I’ll admit that I’m like the reader in this case and have absolutely no idea how the fuck to flirt. The fact that I’ve had 2 relationships is a miracle in itself. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I’ll be doing your prompts next as I have just under 20 in my inbox. They’re mostly Melissa prompts but I do have a couple Chessy ones and 1 Agatha prompt.

The Art Of Flirting

Warnings: small amount of swearing

Words: 6k

You walk into the break room looking for Melissa. You walk a couple steps in and look around for the redhead only to realise she’s not there.

��Hey Barb, have you seen Melissa?” You ask her.

“Not since this morning dear. She might just be running late.” Barb tells you and you sigh and turn around to leave. As soon as you turn around you run right into the redhead herself and she places her hands on your waist to stabilise both of you.

“Hey hon, sorry, didn’t mean to bump into you.” She tells you and you just stare at her, frozen in fear and nervousness.

“Oh, uh, um, it’s-it’s alright. I- I got to go, see you later.” You tell her and bolt out of there.

Melissa watches you leave in confusion before she goes to sit down at the table with Barb.

You enter your classroom and immediately close the door. You put your hands over your eyes in embarrassment and sigh. You just made a complete fool out of yourself in front of Melissa as usual. But honestly, how could anyone act normal around her with how beautiful she is? It’s impossible. You developed a crush on her when you started as the new art teacher 5 months ago.

You go and sit at your desk and start another drawing of Melissa in your sketchbook, a sketchbook that’s full of drawings of her. Is it an obsession to have 100 different sketches of Melissa in different positions and places? Maybe borderline obsession.

After you finish the sketch of Melissa on her phone at the table in the break room, you put your sketchbook away and sit back in your seat. You really want to flirt with her to try and see if she’s interested in you or to let her know that you’re interested in her but there’s one problem with that plan, how the fuck do you flirt?

You get your phone out and decide to google it. It comes up with a bunch of different suggestions and you write down all the ones that come up the most on each website. You just conveniently scroll past the part where it says confidence is very attractive on women, it’s already been established that you have none in front of her. Alright now to put some of these to the test.

First thing on the list: make eye contact.

Watch out Melissa, I’m gonna eye contact the fuck out of you. You then cringe at your own thoughts and sigh.

After school you try and book it quickly to get to the other side of the school in time to walk with Melissa to your cars. You see her locking up her classroom by the time you get there and you walk up to her.

“H-hey Melissa.” You stutter out and she turns around and smiles when she sees it’s you.

“Hey Y/N. How was your day today?” She asks you as you both start walking to the parking lot.

“It-it was alright. How was yours?” You manage to get out.

“It was good, the students actually listened and they all behaved today.” She says and you can’t help but stare at her as she smiles. The point is to make eye contact but you stare at all of her. “Why are you staring?” She asks you.

“What? Me? Staring? Never.” You say with a small laugh and she looks at you confused for a second then just continues the walk to your cars.

“So any weekend plans?” She asks you.

“Umm, nope. I have a pretty boring life. A good weekend for me is curled up on the couch with a good book or a nice tv show or movie to watch.” You tell her while occasionally looking away.

“Hey, I find a night on the couch to be a pretty awesome night.” She says and you just stare at her the entire time.

‘Try to make eye contact, try to keep eye contact.’ Is constantly in your head.

“You’re staring again.” She says.

“I’m not staring… I’m just looking at you while you talk.”

“Hon, that’s called staring.” She states.

“No, it’s called listening while you talk.” You counter and she shakes her head at you with a smile.

“Whatever you say, hon.” She says as you both reach her car and she unlocks it. “See you tomorrow, good night.” She says and then goes to get in her car.

“Good night, Melissa.” You tell her before she closes her car door. You then walk to your car with a smile on your face. ‘I think that went pretty well.’

The next morning you walk into the break room and get your coffee ready. You then go to sit on the couch like you normally do but Melissa stops you.

“Hon, how about you sit with us this morning?” She asks and you look at her in shock. The Melissa Schemmenti, the woman who barely tolerates newbies, just asked you, a newbie, to sit at her table. You almost couldn’t believe it and you smile at her.

“Are you sure?” You ask her and she nods. “Alright, since you’re offering then sure.” You say and go sit on the chair next to her.

“Dear, the project you did with my class yesterday was amazing! My students couldn’t stop talking about it.” Barb told you and you smiled.

“Really? I’m so happy they loved it. And your kindergarteners are adorable.” You told her and Melissa was looking at you with a soft smile the entire time.

“My little eagles love your class as well. They always can’t wait and never want to come back.” Melissa joked with you and you both laughed.

When you both look up from laughing you lock eyes with each other and your breath hitches. Melissa goes back on her phone and you just keep staring at her, she was so beautiful.

“You’re staring again, hon.” Melissa suddenly says as she looks at you and you lock eyes with her again.

“I- I wasn’t staring at you.” You say, voice a bit higher than you intended and Melissa quirks an eyebrow at you.

You pull your phone out and take a look at the list. You think eye contact failed and should try the next thing.

Second thing on the list: compliment her.

‘Ok, I can do that. I always think she looks beautiful. Just have to vocalise it.’ You think and smile as you look up at her. You open your mouth to speak but at the same moment she looks at you and all words left your brain and you quickly shut your mouth.

“Were you gonna say something hon?” Melissa asks you.

“I was but then I literally blanked and forgot.” You say a little shyly and Melissa smiles and shakes her head.

2 hours later there’s a knock on your classroom door and you get up to go open it. You know exactly who’s there, it’s Melissa and her class.

“Hey Melissa!” You say cheerfully and she smiles at you.

“Hey hon, here to drop off the little eagles.” She says and you signal for her students to walk in the classroom. While the students walk in your classroom, you take a look at Melissa. She’s wearing the leather pants that you love on her, a red low cut top and her beautiful ginger locks flowing down to her chest.

“You look really good today.” You tell her and she looks up at you with a smile.

“Ya?” She asks and you nod. “You’ve seen me in this outfit before and you didn’t say anything then.” She tells you with a head tilt.

“Oh…uh, we-well you looked good then but I just didn’t say anything and-”

“Hon, I’m just teasing you, relax. Thank you for the compliment.” She tells you with a chuckle and your cheeks turn red from embarrassment.

The next day, Melissa walks in as you’re on the couch sketching a picture of her. You were really into the sketch that you didn’t register her entering or walking towards you.

“That’s a nice sketch of me.” She says and you jump at her being close to you and quickly close the sketchbook.

“MELISSA! Oh hi!” You say with a higher pitched voice and she giggles at your reaction.

“Can I see the sketch?” She asks as she sits down beside you. You nervously nod your head and then turn it to the correct page of the sketch, carefully to not let her see the other sketches of her, the 100 other sketches of her. You don’t want her to think you’re a stalker. You showed her the sketch and she looks at it with a smile for a few seconds. “This is really good, no wonder you’re an art teacher.” She tells you.

“Tha-thanks. It’s not finished and I didn’t have you posing, although neither did I ask your permission. I’m sorry.” You tell her and she waves you off.

“Don’t be sorry, I’m flattered you’d rather sketch me then someone else. And I’d be happy to pose for you.”

“Really?” You say, shocked.

“Yep, but I’d like to keep the sketch after.” She says and you immediately nod.

“Alright, deal.” You say and then you both shake on it. You should have thought through the idea of shaking hands with her cause as soon as your hands touched, you immediately don’t want to let go. Her hand was so soft and you like the way it feels in yours.

“Come to my place after school today if you’re free and you can sketch me then.” She offers and you immediately nod with a smile.

“I’m definitely free, I’ll be there.” You say and she smiles then gets up.

“Great, I’ll text you my address.” She says and then leans down and lowers her voice so no one else hears. “Oh and btw, you look really cute when you’re concentrating on your work.” She says with a wink, then goes to sit with Barb.

‘What the fuck just happened?’ You think and you might as well have error 404 written across your face cause you don’t move at all for a few seconds.

After school you’re heading to the parking lot when you get a text. It’s from Melissa and you can’t help the smile that formed on your face.

Melissa: Hey Y/N, here’s the address of my castle! Feel free to show up anytime between now and 6 😉

You: I’ll be there in an hour! Why between now and 6?

Melissa: to feed you dinner of course!

You: oh, you don’t need to do that

Melissa: I insist, and I gotta do something to pay you back for sketching me

You: you not being angry at me for sketching you without your permission is good enough for me

Melissa: any dietary restrictions?

You: I’m not getting out of this am I?

Melissa: nope 😉

You: no restrictions

You check the list on your phone for another flirting technique.

Third on the list: light touching

You show up at Melissa’s place an hour later and she opens the door and smiles when she sees it’s you.

“Hey hon.” She says and moves to the side to let you in.

“Hi Melissa.” You say and then take your shoes off before Melissa is guiding you to her couch with one hand on your back. When she put one hand on your back you froze for half a second and you hope she didn’t notice. “So what kind of sketch of yourself do you want?” You ask her once you both sit on the couch.

“Hm, how about me posing on the couch?” She says and you quirk an eyebrow as you flip to an empty page in your sketchbook.

“You’re not talking like titanic style are you?” You ask her and she chuckles.

“No, although maybe I’ll consider that in the future, I do have a great body.” She says and then winks at you. You sit there staring at her like a deer in the headlights, not knowing what to say. “You finished the sketch from earlier.” She says as you were on the page from your last sketch. You nod and then show her how it looks as it’s done. “Wow, you’re an amazing artist.” She says as she looks at it with a smile.

“Thank you.” You say as you look at her with a smile.

“Have you sketched any other teachers?” She suddenly asks as she looks up at you.

“Not in a while.” You say and she looks confused at you. “When I first started I sketched everything and everyone. I like sketching different things and people, and everything was new. I haven’t sketched the other teachers since Halloween.” You tell her and she smiles at you.

“Did you sketch everyone in their costumes?” She asks and you nod. “Can I see it?”

“It’s in another sketchbook.” You tell her and she gives you a little pout. “I can bring it in on Monday if you want.” You say quickly and a smile forms back on her face.

“I’d like that.” She says and you smile and nod at her.

“What other sketches do you have in this one?” She asks you and you suddenly feel nervous. You brought the sketchbook that’s full of sketches of her, a mistake on your part.

“I- I, it’s private.” You say and she looks at you confused but she lets it go.

“Alright, so what do you want to sketch? The one for me.” She says and you think about it.

“Well what do you normally do when you’re at home?” You ask her.

“I cook, grade stuff if I need to catch up, eat, watch tv. On the weekends though it’s different.” She says and you tilt your head. “Other than cooking, I do chores, visit family members, occasionally do something with Barb.” She says and you smile softly at her. Then you suddenly get an idea as you see how she’s sitting right now. She’s sitting on the couch with her body towards you, her left leg on the couch tucked under her body, with her left arm on the back of the couch and head resting on her hand.

“You know, how you are right now is perfect. It looks natural for you.” You tell her and she looks down at herself then back at you.

“You want me to stay as I am and just look at you?” She says and quirks an eyebrow.

“Well that’s if you want the drawing to be of you on the couch.” You say as you flip to an empty page in your sketchbook.

“That’s alright with me.” She says as you get one of the pencils you brought.

“Do you want to be smiling or just a natural look?” You ask her and she thinks about it for a second.

“Smiling.” She says.

“Do you mind smiling then? I’ll be doing your face first.” You tell her and she nods then does a smile.

You take a deep breath and then begin your sketch. In all your sketches of Melissa, you never have one where she’s posing for you. Having her look at you as you’re drawing her is very different.

“You can stop smiling now if you want.” You tell her as you finish her face. Melissa does stop smiling and just has a natural look now and starts a conversation with you as you continue the sketch.

“When did you start doing sketches?” She asks as you do the outline of her body.

“For as long as I remember. I was a shy kid and it was hard for me to make friends so I drew instead.” You tell her as you move to the side of the couch to sketch her full body. You get to the part where you’re sketching her chest and you can’t help but blush as you look at her chest.

“Why are you blushing?” She asks you.

“No reason, just um, not used to having someone look at me as I sketch them. Only my family ever did.” You tell her and she smiles at you.

“Well you’re beautiful when you blush.” She tells you and you immediately snap your head up at her and she winks at you. You blush even more but you go back to the sketch and try to calm your blush down. After half an hour, you finish the sketch and turn it around to show her.

“What do you think?” You ask her as she looks at it.

“It’s perfect.” She says and then you carefully ripe the page out and hand it to her. She reaches out and takes it and your hands brush together briefly and your breath hitches slightly as you feel her soft skin. She examines it more closely with a smile before she gets up. You put your stuff away as she hangs the drawing up on her fridge. You get up and follow her to the kitchen just as she’s putting food from a container on two plates. “I hope you like lasagna cause that’s the leftovers that I have.” She says and you smile at her.

“I’m positive I’ll love it. I’ve heard nothing but great things about your cooking.” You tell her and she smiles as she puts one of the plates in the microwave. “I really like your house, it’s very homey.” You tell her as you look around her kitchen.

“Thank you.” She says and puts the second plate in the microwave after taking the first one out.

“You’re the first person I’ve seen to have plastic on the couch though.” You tell her and she giggles a bit.

“My family is Italian and love wine. So when they come over I don’t want them to spill on the couch.” She says and you nod in understanding. “Come and eat.” She says as she takes the two plates over to her dining table. You take the first bite and the flavours explode in your mouth and you let out a small moan.

“Omg Melissa this is incredible.” You tell her with a smile.

“Thanks hon.” She says and then you both continue on with normal chatter until you leave. “I’ll see you on Monday, and don’t forget the sketchbook.” She says as you’re at her door, ready to leave.

“Don’t worry, I won’t forget, see you on Monday Melissa.” You tell her and then you leave. Once you get home you take a deep breath and sit on the couch. You didn’t really flirt with her but you got to spend a lot of time with her alone and without interruptions. You smile at that thought and then go to find your filled sketchbooks and grab the one that you’re looking for to show her on Monday.

When Monday rolls around, you grab all your things and make your way to school. You walk into the break room and make a coffee. Melissa looks at you as you make a coffee and then invites you to sit next to her when you’re done.

“As promised, the sketchbook I used when I first got here.” You tell her and she smiles as you hand it to her. She gets you to scoot closer to her and you do it immediately and then she looks at the sketches you did. You have drawings in there of Abbott mostly, of the break room, some classrooms, the gym, the playground. Then she sees some of the teachers making their way into the drawings. She sees herself in a few of them, especially in the break room ones. You decide to put your flirting into action as she’s distracted and move your leg slightly so that your thigh is touching hers. You keep it there and she doesn’t say anything, she just asks you about some of your drawings and you happily explain them to her.

She then flips the page and she sees a drawing of a few kids in costumes and realises that she’s at Halloween. She looks at a few drawings and then gets one of just her in the break room, on her phone with a lollipop in her mouth. She looks at it with a smile and flips the page. She sees that it’s another sketch of her in her costume. It was after haunting baby Thanos and you were all sitting in the gym as the kids tired themselves out. You were all there but she sees that you only drew her. She flips the page and sees a picture of Draemond, the owner of charter schools, there with devil horns and she giggles.

She flips a few more pages and sees herself and Barb at their table in their Christmas clothing. She flips to the next page and it’s her with the read-a-thon medal and a huge smile on her face. She then gets to the end of the sketchbook and she hands it back to you. “Your sketches are amazing, hon.” She tells you and you take the sketchbook back with a blush. Melissa then goes to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and you look at her. “There, it was getting in the way.” She says with a smile then goes to her phone. You go on your phone to check the list again as you don’t have a lot of reasons to touch her. Then it hits you, you never moved your thigh away from hers and she didn’t either. You glance down and sure enough your thighs are still touching and Melissa doesn’t seem to mind. You now look at the list to try and flirt some more with her.

Fourth on the list: Get her to talk about herself.

Ok this one seems easy, you can do this. “So Melissa.” You start and she looks at you with a smile. “What are you doing today with your students? Any activities or something fun?” You ask her and she thinks about it for a second before her eyes widen and she starts collecting her things.

“You just reminded me that I gotta get the classroom ready for a science project.” She says quickly and quickly walks out of the room. You sigh with a pout and Barb looks at you with a gentle smile.

“Don’t worry dear, one day she’ll notice your advances.” She tells you and your eyes widen as you look at her.

“Wha?” You ask her and she shakes her head with a smile.

“I know you like her, it’s no mystery.” She tells you and you put your head in your hands.

You pull your phone out for something to do and it’s still on the list and you’re about to close it when you read the next thing.

Fifth on the list: Go out of your way to be nice.

You have a perfect opportunity, you can help her set up her classroom. You say goodbye to Barb and then you head to Melissa’s classroom. Once you get there you see her frantically setting things up and you knock on the door. She looks up at you and she smiles at you before continuing setting up.

“Hey hon, I’m sorry that I left so quickly.” She tells you and you walk in.

“That’s alright, I just came over to see if I could help you.” You tell her and she looks at you.

“Really?” She asks and you nod. “That would be great, hon.” She tells you and you walk over to grab some of the paper out of her hand. You think you have the perfect opportunity to double flirt, help her and get her to talk about herself.

“So what experiment are they doing today?” You ask her and she smiles.

“Volcanos. We’ve been learning about them so today we’re doing the baking soda and vinegar volcano.” She tells you excitedly.

“You seem more excited than the kids.” You joke with her and she giggles.

“It’s the most fun experiment of the year.” She says.

You shake your head at her before an idea pops in your head. “Hey, I got an idea but you can always say no.” You tell her and she looks at you and tilts her head. “Well you know how I have your class second period today?” You start and she nods her head. “How about we combine them. We can even decorate the volcanoes. I get bring over some art supplies and make a whole 2 hour experiment!” You tell her and you calm down when you finish the idea.

“That’s actually an amazing idea and I’d love to do that.” She says and you quirk your eyebrows.

“But…” You say and she shakes her head at you with a smile.

“No but, it sounds amazing and we should do it.” She tells you and you jump up and down.

“Omg! Ok, I’ll go grab some supplies and l’ll be right back!” You say excitedly and run out.

You return 5 minutes later, a few minutes before the bell rings with some painting supplies. You both continue setting up, including the art supplies and finish right as the bell rings. Melissa goes to greet her students as you stand at the front of the classroom and the students look around at the materials.

“Ms. Y/L/N, what are you doing here?” One of her students ask you.

“Me and Ms. Schemmenti will explain everything when everyone is settled in.” You tell them and they nod their head and take a seat.

“Alright my little eagles!” Melissa says and you shake your head at that, of course she includes the eagles in her teaching. “Today is volcano experiment day!” She says and the students begin to cheer. “And Ms. Y/L/N here is helping us with it. We’re combining our classes so we’ll have 2 hours to build and decorate our volcanoes.” She explains and all the students begin side chatter with someone beside them.

“And we can do a competition! The group with the best looking and best working volcano will have bragging rights for the day.” You tell them and they all cheer again. One of the students raise their hand and looks at you. “Yes Makayla?” You ask her.

“Does the best looking means that they have to look like a volcano?” She asks and you think about it.

“Hm, good question. I’m gonna say no. Just go crazy and make it look however you want it to look. And if you need any specific art supplies then let me know and I’ll go get it for you.” You tell everyone and they all have a big smile. “Anything to add Ms. Schemmenti?” You ask her as you look at her.

“Nope, I think it’s time we split into groups.” She tells them. You split the class into groups and they all get started on their volcanoes. “You know there’s extra supplies if you want to make a volcano together?” She asks you as you smile and then you both start constructing one. You both work on it and also help the students with theirs if they ask.

“So how should we decorate it?” You ask as you add some paper to the volcano but it didn’t stick.

“Here you didn’t add enough glue.” She says and stands behind you. She takes the piece of paper and dips it into the glue and then passes it to you and both stick the piece onto the volcano successfully. “I think it should be a black volcano with pink lava.” She says with a big smile and you shake your head and smile as well.

“I think we can make that happen.” You tell her and she beams. Once the paper dries then you set up the paint and you take turns painting parts of it. When Melissa finishes painting it completely black then you get the pink paint and a smaller paint brush. You begin painting lines on the volcano while she paints the top of it. Melissa gets the lava ready with extra baking soda as you’re using paint instead of food colouring which is heavier. Once everyone is done then you all test the volcanoes. The last one to test was yours and Melissa’s and it worked and started pouring out pink lava to which the whole class was in awe.

After they all get tested then you and Melissa quickly discuss who wins and then announce the best group. They all clap for the winning team and then you get everyone to help clean up.

“Thank you for today.” Melissa says as you both clean up your area. “This was a really fun idea.”

“It’s not a problem Melissa, and I had a lot of fun today as well.”

“We should combine our classes together more often.” She says and you smile at her.

“I would love that.” You tell her and then continue cleaning up before you had to leave for your third period class. You’re lucky you had a spare at the beginning of the day so you could do this project with her and her class.

At lunch you bump into her on the way to the break room and she starts laughing at how you look. “Did you get paint shot at you?” She asks through giggles.

“Something like that. The kids and I were having fun with the paint and they decided to attack me with paint. This is why I only use washable paint.” You say.

“Come here.” She tells you and she brings you to the sink in the break room. She gets paper towels and begins cleaning the paint off of your face. The rest of the crew walks in while Melissa is wiping the paint off your face and they all start laughing at your state.

“Dear, what on earth happened to you?” Barb asks as she tries not to laugh.

“Third graders wanted to have fun today with paint.” You tell everyone.

“And it seems you were their main target.” Melissa says and she starts giggling again while wiping near your mouth. She then starts wiping your mouth and you both freeze for a second and Melissa looks up into your eyes before looking back at your mouth and then goes back to wiping your mouth. “If it’s any consolation, you look like an art teacher.” She jokes with you and you both start laughing at the joke. Melissa finally gets all the paint off your face and neck and then you both start to have lunch.

“Thanks for getting all the paint off my face.” You tell her and she smiles at you.

“Not a problem, hon.” She says and then goes and explains to Barb the volcano project.

“Wow, it seems you two had a fun morning.” Barb tells you both and you both nod and Meliss turns to look at you.

“We did ya. I was already looking forward to the volcano project but you made it even better.” She tells you and you blush.

Once lunch ends then all the teachers go and collect their class, you on the other hand have a spare right now so you walk to your classroom and start to get it ready for Janine’s class that are coming next period. While getting it ready you begin to think of your plan of flirting with Melissa, it seems to be going well except that you’re barely doing anything. And then it hits you, Melissa is doing the flirting and you’ve been flirting back with her. She’s the one making eye contact with you, complimenting you, lightly touching you, getting you to talk about yourself and even helping you out. You facepalm as you didn’t even notice before, how oblivious are you?

At the end of the day, you’re sitting on the couch in the break room, finishing up a sketch. Teachers walk in and out quickly to get their lunch and then go home. Melissa walks in with Barb but then notices you on the couch, she says goodbye to Barb and then walks over to you and looks at your drawing. It’s another sketch of her, only it’s her painting the volcano.

“That sure was fun today.” She says from behind you and scares the shit out of you.

“OMG! MELISSA! Why do you keep scaring me like that?” You ask her and she starts laughing.

“Sorry hon, but it is funny.” She says as you pout. “Btw, that’s another sketch of me, I seem to be your favourite subject to sketch.” She tells you and you blush.

“Really? I didn’t even notice but I guess so.” You tell her, trying to cover up the fact that the sketchbook is full of sketches of her. You both start walking out when your book slips out of your hands and falls in front of her. The curiosity gets the better of Melissa as she looks at the sketches after picking it up. She’s able to get away from your attempts at getting the book back as you don’t want her to think you’re some sort of freak or stalker.

“I guess I really am your favourite subject.” She says as she flips through all the sketches, you’ve already given up your attempts and just lets her look. She finishes looking at them after a few minutes and gives it back to you. “I wouldn’t mind keeping some of those.” She says and you clutch the book close to you.

“Of-of course, you can keep a-any sketch you want.” You stutter out and she smiles at you.

“Why didn’t you want to show me your sketchbook before?” She asks you and you sigh.

“Because if you found out I have a sketchbook of just sketches of you then you might think I’m a freak or something.” You admit to her.

“Hon I don’t think you’re a freak for it. Many artists have something or someone that they love to sketch. I have a few artists in my family and they all tell me that.” She says and you look at her. You then remember your discovery a couple hours ago and you surge forward and kiss her. You could feel her being stunned at first and as you go to pull away she starts kissing you back. You both pull apart when air is needed and then you look at each other as you catch your breath. “Thank god, I was wondering if you liked me back for a month now. Which is why I started flirting with you.” She tells you and your jaw drops.

“You’ve been flirting with me for a month?” You ask her, completely stunned and she nods.

“How long do you think I’ve been flirting with you for?” She asks.

“For like a week. I mean that’s when I started flirting with you.” You tell her.

“You’ve been flirting with me?” She asks and looks taken aback.

“Ya, I guess unsuccessfully if your reaction is anything to go by.” You tell her and you both start giggling.

“You suck at flirting hon.” She tells you with a smile.

“I know, I literally googled how to flirt with women as a woman cause I have no idea how to flirt.” You admit and she laughs at that.

“You’re adorable but you're right, you have no idea how to flirt.” She tells you and you pout. She then kisses you again and this time you melt into the kiss, unaware of the trio and Barb watching you both from down the hall, all of them with a smile on their face.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

@unicorniusfallapatorius

@a-queen-and-her-throne

@sleep-deprived-athlete

@og-kxsh-420

@sasheemo

@midnight-lestrange

Let me know if you want to be added!

[jovieinramshackle]

ℍ𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕠 ℍ𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕠!

Hello there! My name is Harry (you can also call me Jo/Joey or other nicknames!) and welcome to my blog! I like drawing silly twst art of silly queers kissing each other.

Rollo doodle by @oya-oya-okay tysm ♡

☆ Harry/Jo ☆ He/Him ☆ Greek ☆ 17 (March 1st)

Carrd | Strawpage | Pronouns Page | Dividers

{My Hoard}

Tag Masterlist Fic Masterlist Self-ship Promo Mutuals List

{Ocs/Other}

OC Masterlist

{Special/Misc.}

Hot Cocoa Doddles 🍫☕️ Christmas Gifts for Moots (2024) 🎁

(More TBA)

𝔸𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝔹𝕝𝕠𝕘

DNI: PR0/C0MSHIP (inc3sts/p3do ships), T3RFS, ZI0NITS, AI ART, L0LI/SH0TACON, BASIC DNI CRITERIA. I know not everyone will care about my DNI, so remember I regularly check the blogs of people who actively interact with my blog for safety. I block anyone who I think breaks my DNI list. NOTE: I consider myself a semi-practising Queer Christian (specifically Greek Orthodox). My faith is a very personal part of my life, so I won't be bringing it up much (feel free to block #faith yap for the rare times I'll be using it). Using any type of religion as an excuse for hate won't be tolerated. Similarly don't be dicks to others for their religion if they're genuinely non-bigoted.

☆ My blog focuses on general yume-shipping content (oc x canon/selfship). I especially focus on my oc x canon of my oc Jovie and Azul, but there are other ones too! Check my carrd for my ships chart (a few ships I haven't posted about may be in there) ☆ My blog is named after my OC, I don't use the name "Jovie." You can still just call me "Jo/Joey" if you have difficulty remembering names and only look at my user. ☆ I'm nonbinary transmasc, bisexual and aroace(spec)—  as you can tell, I’m very queer. I enjoy implementing queer elements I relate to onto my ocs, especially when it comes to trans/non-cis ocs. ☆ I’m diagnosed with dyslexia and dysgraphia, I also may have undiagnosed ADHD. Please keep it in mind when interacting with me (and excuse awkward wording or misspellings)! ☆ Twisted Wonderland is very dear to me as a piece of media and I tend to be a bit sensitive with media I'm very attached to. So if you have criticisms about the game I would ask you to not mention them on my blog (that doesn't mean I don't agree, I just prefer to discuss things like that outside of my blog). ☆ This is an SFW blog, however, occasionally there may be a bit more suggestive art/posts of 20+ characters (specifically with Fellow/Ernesto and his x oc) so be aware of that. (read this too pls ty) ☆ I’m VERY comfortable with friendly banter and teasing! Don’t be afraid to bully me into oblivion, especially if we’re mutuals (tone tags are appreciated).  ☆ I'm an EN player, but this blog is not spoiler-free for JP updates. Any JP content will be tagged with #twst jp and #twst jp spoilers. ☆ I'm a bit selective with who I follow/follow back. But if you ask to be mutuals, I won't say no! Just please be sure you follow me already and that you’ve seen me interact with you/your posts before. I’m uncomfortable with people I haven’t seen a lot of asking me to be mutuals.  ☆ For mutuals: Please keep in mind that I'm not great at keeping up with other blogs. However, I will still try to interact with you to the best of my abilities (similarly don't be afraid to interact with me AT ALL! I will be very happy if you do!). ☆ Dms are open! I pretty much never text first (kinda anxious about it) but I’m an extremely chill person and like to think I’m easy to talk to, so don't be afraid to message me! I would love to talk (keep in mind I’m a yapper). ☆ Inbox is always open, so feel free to send whatever, whenever (I may be quick or late to answer, but I will eventually)! ☆ Feel free to tag me in posts you think I'd like (especially of my faves)! Just don't tag spam me (unless I give you the go-ahead first). If we're mutuals feel free to add me to your tag lists (if you have one)!  ☆ There may be some non-twst art, reblogs, or rambles if the mood strikes (will include matters related to trans/queer/Palestine topics but I’ll try to avoid other political talks here).

tag list (for me to copy paste lmao): @ramshacklerumble @thehollowwriter @summerspook @scint1llat3 @skriblee-ksk

@cyanide-latte @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @oya-oya-okay @viperbunnies @jadelover69

@twsted-void @lallopsyou (lmk/dm if you wanna be added)

[maladaptivewriting]

Re: Kittywater (or Blumbridge whatever they’re calling that fuck ass ship)

I genuinely do not care what people ship. I curate my online experience heavily and I am not a multi-shipper so as soon as I saw it pop up I said “ew”, filtered it, and went on about my day.

However, things occasionally come across my fyp anyway. And the way I’ve seen so many people talk about this ship gives me the ick (even more than the ship itself). There is something that feels deeply homophobic about creating/shipping/posting about a cishet ship to “get back at” people who ship a popular queer ship.

Like, if you ship it because it speaks to you or it’s fun or tragic or you just enjoy it, have at it. Write your fics, draw your art, and live your best life. But when you’re only talking about it as a way to “show jegulus stans how jily fans feel” then I think you’re a weirdo. And are actively making this fandom a worse/more toxic place.

I recognize that I’m not unbiased as I love jegulus as a ship and Regulus as a character, but the amount of homophobia and especially transphobia I encounter in this fandom on the regular makes this feel especially pointed.

this is such a good and enlightened point that i didn’t even think about. i was making jokes about disliking kittywater in a discord server the other day and was basically mocked for being “one of the jegulus shippers falling for rage bait” and honestly it just hasn’t sat right with me since then. i feel such a disdain for people in this fandom who just want to anger people, especially people who ship a queer ship

[siconetribal]

Beyond the Bookshelves (2)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: When you're forced to work in pairs/groups when you don't want to work in pairs/groups, work life, slice of life

Summary: You're a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You've been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N: Thank you to all the readers who have loved this story so much already, I did not expect so man tag requests! I'll do my best to live up to your expectations in this story that is pretty much writing itself. If I missed anyone who asked to be tagged, please let me know!

Please comment/like/reblog. If you'd like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know!

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

The walk back to the library was longer than usual, but that was because you were now burdened with a task that was nearly impossible to complete with what was at your disposal. Not only was there so little provided, the personnel allotted was the complete opposite of what was necessary. It would have been laughable had it not been so pathetic. You, someone who normally worked with a set number of others, (most of which were virtual) was now forced into a group with two other members whom you have never even properly spoken to.

Loki probably hates me, he has to hate me. The man-person-god-prince-whatever-he-is has never even uttered a word to me until today! You thought back to the very first time you ever met the silent and brooding raven haired Asgardian.

It started off just like any other day, quiet and peaceful. It was just you, the books, and the sun. Though it was a state-of-the-art facility, the library was given a more soothing design with wooden shelving and tables, soft carpeting, comfortable seating of chairs and sofas, table lamps, and desks for laptops and computers to promote productivity and security. There were a few high-tech things, such as the book trolley being robotic and the security measures equal to the rest of the complex; but overall it evoked a sense of tradition.

You were leading the robot trolley filled with books through the shelves, returning items to their proper place, when you heard the chime at the door. Peeking your head out of the aisle, you were awestruck by the handsome young man whom you have never seen before, slowly walking in and looking around in what you could only describe as pure wonder. There was a sparkle of life in those blue eyes and the faintest of smiles tugging at the corners of his lips. Setting the book in hand back on the trolley, you stepped out and gave a big smile.

“Hello, my name is Y/N. I’m the librarian. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You cheerily greeted him, but only received silence in return as he walked further into the room without even a passing glance. There’s no way he didn’t hear me, right? I didn’t shout, but I wasn’t quiet either. He seems to be really excited about the library, so maybe he was too busy looking around? She opened her mouth to let him know she was here to assist if he needed anything, but he was nowhere to be seen. “I guess he really was just that eager.” You muttered to yourself as you finished your task and made your way to the main desk.

Who is he, anyway? He looks oddly familiar, but I just can’t put my finger on it. You dug through your memories, trying to find a name to the face. When it was clear that it was not something that would come to you right away, he let it be for now and tried your best to see if the newcomer was still here. Had it not been for the occasional sightings, you would have sworn your mind was playing tricks on you. When he finally settled on a few books, you waited for him to come to the desk to check out.

“Excuse me, sir!” You shouted after him as he went straight towards the door. His nose was already buried in one book, and two more were under his arm. It was too late. The alarm at the door began ringing, and a female computer voice came through the speakers.

“Please return the books to the library or check them out at the main desk. I repeat, please return the books to the library or check them out at the main desk.” You watched his head snap up and look around for the source of the disembodied voice when holographic floating arrows directed his attention towards you. You gave a slight wave and put on your best welcoming smile once more. He looked down at the books he held briefly before making his way over to the desk.

“I guess you didn’t hear me, I was trying to get your attention before you left. It’s fine, people make that mistake most of them the time when they're busy. May I please see the books?” He held out your hands, but he deposited the stack on to the desk and pushed it towards you. Ok, you pulled them closer. “Your ID as well, please.” You held out your hand once more and the man simply stared at you, bewildered, with scrunched eyebrows and a growing frown. Lifting your lanyard up, you pointed to your pass holder, which held your ID. “Your ID card, the one that gives you access to the various parts of this facility.” The continued silence was deafening as one of his hands slipped into one of his pockets and he pulled out his ID and placed it on the table. “Uh, thank you,” you mumble as you pick up the piece of plastic and tapped it against a panel to the right of your monitor. Loki? You stared at the name for a moment, the gears slowly turning in your head as you scanned the books one by one before handing them and his ID back to him. “You have two weeks to return or extend your borrow time. Please do not damage them or return them late, you will incur some fees if so. Thank you, I hope you enjoy them. If you need any,” you began to strike up conversation once more, but he took the books and left without a word, leaving you to awkwardly watch.

“Talk about intimidating! I had no idea they brought him here!” You let out a heavy sigh and plopped back into your chair. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize him without those big gold horns! Did he really just ignore me, though? Maybe he’s shy? I don’t recall ever hearing him speak, though,” you muttered to yourself, swinging left to right. “He must’ve proven that he’s not dangerous if he’s allowed to be part of the Avenger’s team.” You shrugged and let the topic slide for now. You would give him time to grow accustomed to you…or so you thought.

The encounters that followed were nearly identical to the first. He would come in and completely ignore you, read for hours, check out books, and leave. Not a word came from his lips, and he only ever looked at you with you were not sure whether it was disdain or disgust. At some point, you completely gave up on speaking to him and simply took note of the books he liked. When he would go searching for something of interest, you would set a book that you believed he would enjoy beside the sofa he usually sat. It was clear she chose well, since he would always read and check it out. With all this in mind, you had come to the conclusion he cannot speak for some reason, and you were a rude stranger constantly chattering on to him. Not wanting to spoil his time in the library, you quickly adapted and remained silent in return. 

You dryly laughed at the memories that dropped on you like bricks. You were clearly thinking too highly of yourself, since today you had heard him speak quite clearly. Why would someone remain quiet for so long? After all attempts made to strike up conversation? There was only one valid solution: he hated you. The reason, you were not sure, but it was the only thing that made sense, and that meant you only had one Asgardian to rely on for assistance in your assignment.

Thor can only do so much since he is a main team member and one that is sent out on multiple missions globally. You pinched the bridge of your nose. Even if they forced Loki to assist, he’ll also be sent on various missions as well. I’ll have to wait for them to return every single time because those take priority over what I need to do. Then there’s training for the missions, training to keep working well as a team, meeting, and the press! The work is never going to get done! You wanted to rip your hair out from frustration as you roughly tousled it about and let out a loud groan of frustration once inside your sanctuary, the library. “And this is all if they say yes to helping me out. I doubt Fury is going to demand it, and Agent Hill isn’t going to go out of her way to persuade them. Just forget it, Y/N, fix the report and file it. Then just go on with your day just like you always do.”

“Thor, Loki, thank you for taking the time to meet with me.” Agent Hill greeted the brothers that came into her office.

“Of course we would come. It is not often that you call for anyone other than Stark or Rogers.” Thor gave an amicable smile, while Loki simply took a seat in one of the chairs in front of her desk. “What is it that you wish to discuss with us?” Thor took the seat beside his brother.

“I won’t take much of your time, it is a new assignment that only the two of you can assist us with.” She took her seat once more and faced the two of them. “Director Fury has given a task to our Resources Management department, the lead of which works here at HQ with us. She is the Librarian. I’m sure you have seen her most of all.” She looked towards the younger prince.

Loki kept a passive outwardly expression while his mind quickly tried to pull out the information of this librarian. He was no stranger to meeting a multitude of people, but he was not foolish enough to assume he would be able to memorize everyone’s name and face. He was a prince of Asgard, the only people he needed to know of in detail ere dignitaries and other royals. This librarian was hardly someone he would have considered amongst the two categories.

“So what if I have?” He coolly questioned, unsure of what the agent was trying to get at with all of this. Is this the reason she requested an audience with us the week before? What task could they have possibly given such a department that requires our assistance? I am not some scribe! He wanted to snap at Hill, but he held his tongue. Though he was an Avenger now, he was still not fully trusted by anyone. He knew even Thor had his reservations, but they knew how the Mind Stone worked. They knew he was not lying, but they were clear in stating they did not know him and this chance was only given because of his brother, Thor.

“Well, it will make things easier for us. She needs assistance in translating all of our texts into English. The department needs to create digital copies of all our books and paper resources so that we can access them anywhere and any time. We do not have the means to simply assign large groups to this task, because it would lead to suffering in on ground missions and recon. The both of you have the ability of AllSpeak which can translate anything you say to English. When you are available, please assist the Librarian in translating the various texts to help speed up the process.”

“This is a side request?” Thor asked, wanting to clarify the priority of this.

“Yes, we do not wish for this to hinder any missions you are needed for. We are requesting you head to the library when you have the time to speak with her and set up a tentative schedule so that she can report back to Director Fury by the end of this month. By that time, she will have the necessary equipment as well. If he approves, then we can move forward in starting this task.”

“You want us to dictate books to her? So she can type it up? Do you not have programs that can instantly translate for you?” Loki frowned, crossing his arms in disapproval at this waste of time.

“Though there are plenty of translation software programs out there, none of them are a hundred percent accurate. They may translate directly word for word, which could destroy the concept of the passages. It may attempt to try to understand the concept, but get it completely wrong. Both of you will be able to read the text and understand the context of it, which will help her type a more accurate translation.” Thor loudly hummed as he considered the task. It was not something he was rather fond of, however he wanted to be of assistance if this would help the organization.

“I am to deployed on a mission with Rogers and Stark in a couple of days. I am not certain how long we will be away. Is it possible to extend the time of meeting with the Librarian?” 

“I am to head out with the spider and bird tomorrow evening and return in four days.” Loki added.

“Very well, I will have her look into your schedules and reach out to the both of you.  If it cannot be done together, I will have her meet with you separately. Your missions will always be a priority, and she is well aware of that. Thank you for your assistance, I’ll inform her of this development.” Agent Hill stood from her seat and the two brothers followed, stepping out of her office and making their way towards the common room.

“Have you actually met this Librarian, brother?” Thor was the one to break the silence.

“I have not the faintest clue on whom they are referring to. No one speaks to me in this sterile place, how am I supposed to meet anyone?” He scoffed. Who would want to talk to a monster such as me? “It doesn’t matter, we will meet this woman at some point and better understand this waste of time that we are being dragged into. If you’ll excuse me, I have a debriefing to sit through.” He turned down the hall on their left, leaving Thor with the harsh words of his reality.

Tags: @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss @softestqueeen @thegodofnotknowing @princess-ofthe-pages @firedrakegirl @rcailleachcola @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lotrefcp @lwtannie @kats72 @kneelingformyloki

[strangerthingsfanworkrecs]

I would love to recommend @tomtomslongdong as a *reader* highlight. It is always such a joy to see what they’re reading but also to read whatever comments and tags they leave behind. Let alone to be a writer and receive their feedback. One of the greatest supporters in the fandom, truly if no one else cares for a fic I wrote but they enjoyed it, it’s like the ultimate stamp of approval.

This week, we're highlighting @tomtomslongdong as a commenter! All recs this week will be from her recs.

Tomtom answered some questions about what she does to find fics and to leave great comments under the cut

Why Stranger Things?

I went from casual watcher in anticipation of season 4 coming out to falling in love with all the characters in the space of a few weeks. Friendship, loyalty and messy family dynamics are such a core part of st, which is something I latch onto when I’m watching anything. And maybe.. there were some characters(Eddie) that I grew even more fond of(definitely Eddie). I even remember seeing edits of Eddie at the picnic table but it wasn’t until I had watched that first episode of season 4 that I truly got it. It’s been 84 years but I’m still in love with that man.

What's your favorite ship (platonic or romantic) to read?

I read x reader the most but I adore platonic stobin and I wanna read about them more. Their dynamic is everything to me. Infact Robin with any of the st girls too. I look up this one fanart of robin and Carol Perkins a lot. A LOT.

How do you typically find fics?

At the start I would brave the tags more and I do still do that but genuinely it’s from blogs I like and follow reblogging them. I’ve curated my own little balance of people reading stuff I know I’ll like and also being introduced to fics I might not have even thought of reading before seeing their reactions.

Are there other forms of fanart you enjoy? How do you find them?

Fanart that’s been inspired by fics or concepts, just witnessing one artist inspire another is so joyful. Also when an artists self inserts themselves into their art! It’s seriously one of the coolest things ever. My favourite thing to do is trawling the tags of an eddie blog as I go on a deep dive. I scrape the barnacles off that boat allllll the way back to the start. I find all sorts of fanart and work that maybe I’ve never seen as I didn’t gravitate back to tumblr till later in summer ‘22.

What's your tip for leaving comments on works?

Just tell them how it made you feel man. Scream it at the writers. I’m no good at articulating myself at all but sometimes you read the exact thing you needed to read and all is right with the world. Let them know they’re very much to blame for your emotional state when they post. And who knows those writers might occasionally grace you with the biggest gift of all (more lore on the world they’ve built directly from their mind via an IV drip known as the DMs)

Is there any fanwork that really stood out to you?

hockey!eddie has an iron tight grip on me and if anyone could find the stats on how many times I’ve viewed dr-aculaaa and hearsegrrl art on him, you’d take my phone away

Is there anything we didn't ask that you'd like to add?

Just that it’s wild, there’s this little community in my phone that’s so smart? So talented? And I’ve formed what I hope I can call genuine friendships from this and yet no one in my day to day real life knows I’m just kicking around in here haha! I get to be my weirdo self with my weirdo friends in peace and I think that’s lovely.

[javierpenaismyhusband]

You Are Not Alone

Javier Pena x M!Reader (You)

Summary: Everything was fine until one night, as I was closing my café and heading home, I stumbled across a body, and the murderer. He attacked me, but I managed to survive. I thought about calling the cops, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I hated them. That was until I met Javi, the cop who showed up at my door, the same one I had served coffee to on the day my life turned upside down. What followed was a messy, complicated connection that neither of us saw coming.

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, MDNI, mentions of blood, wounds, cuts, bruises, frequent fights, stitched-up injuries, 20-year age gap, knife fights, stabbings, mentions of murder, brief mentions of anarchy and politics (not heavily featured), minimal use of Y/N (only when necessary).

Notes: Hi there! I know it’s been a while since I last posted, but I’ve been busy with work, and life’s been a bit rough lately. I’m not too happy with this fic, but I promise I’ll write something better in the future. Thanks for sticking around!

It was early, and the café was quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional sound of my cleaning rag swiping across the counter. The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, catching the tiny dust particles in the air like golden snow. I was wiping down the espresso machine, my mind half on the day ahead, when the door jingled.

I turned, a bit startled, to see a man step inside. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with an easy confidence. His hair was dark, perfectly tousled as though he didn’t try too hard but still looked good. His face was strong and angular, with a neatly trimmed mustache that added to his rugged appeal. His brown eyes, though warm, held a hint of weariness, like someone who’d seen too much.

"Hey, did you open?" he asked, his deep voice carrying a hint of apology.

"Not yet," I replied, trying to sound casual despite the way my heart raced. He was, hands down, one of the best-looking guys I’d ever seen. "But tell me what you want."

He hesitated, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, thank you. A double espresso, if that’s okay."

"Perfect," I said, trying to hide my blush as I turned to the coffee machine. My hands moved automatically, grinding the beans and prepping the portafilter. I stole a glance at him as I worked, and he was standing there, looking around the café with an appreciative nod.

As I worked the espresso machine, he took a slow look around the shop. His eyes scanned the shelves lined with jars of coffee beans, the small potted plants scattered across tables, and the art pieces on the walls.

"This is a nice coffee shop," he said, his voice warm with approval. "How come I’ve never seen it before?"

I kept my eyes on the machine, focusing on tamping the grounds. "Oh, probably because it was closed for a while. I bought it from the previous owner and renovated it. Tried to make it as good as I could."

"You did that on your own? Bought the place all by yourself?" he asked, his tone tinged with surprise.

Before I could respond, he added, "You look like you’re, what, 22 years old? How did you do it?"

I couldn’t help but laugh as I placed the cup on the saucer and handed it to him. "I’m 20, actually."

His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "No way."

"It wasn’t easy," I admitted, leaning lightly against the counter. "I was working two jobs, saving almost everything I earned. It took a while, but eventually, I had enough to make it happen. Opening this café was always the dream."

He studied me for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "That’s impressive," he said sincerely, his voice carrying a note of admiration.

I glanced up at him, and our eyes met. For a moment, it felt like the world around us went quiet. His deep brown eyes held mine, and I couldn’t help but notice the warmth in them, tinged with something I couldn’t quite place. My cheeks warmed, and I quickly turned away, focusing on the counter.

"Thank you," I said, trying to sound casual, though I knew the blush was probably giving me away.

As he pulled out his wallet, he asked, "What do I owe you?"

"It’s on the house," I replied with a small smile, glancing at him again.

He looked up, a smirk spreading across his face. "Thank you..." he trailed off, waiting for my name.

"Y/N," I offered.

"Thank you, Y/N," he said, his voice rolling my name off his tongue in a way that made my heart race.

"And your name?" I asked, wanting to know more about the man who’d walked in like a storm and somehow left me feeling calm and jittery all at once.

"Javier," he said simply.

"Nice to talk to you, Javier. I hope I see you again," I said, trying to sound confident.

He gave me a smile that was almost a promise. "Oh, trust me, you will."

With that, he turned to leave, his footsteps purposeful but unhurried. Just as he reached the door, he glanced back over his shoulder. "Have a good day," he said, his voice smooth and warm.

"You too," I replied, watching as the door closed behind him.

The café was quiet again, but the lingering warmth of his presence stayed with me, making the morning feel brighter.

That day turned out to be amazing. The café was busier than ever, with people stopping by to admire the place and enjoy their coffee. It felt like all the hard work and late nights were finally paying off. By the time the evening rolled around, I was exhausted but happy.

As the last customer left, I locked up the shop, the soft click of the door feeling oddly satisfying. The streets were quiet, the city settling into its nighttime rhythm. I started walking home, the cool breeze brushing against my skin, refreshing after the busy day.

Wanting to get home faster, I decided to take a shortcut through a narrow alley. It wasn’t the best-lit path, but it was familiar, and I’d taken it plenty of times before.

As I was nearing the end, almost home, a shape on the ground caught my eye. It was a man, lying motionless, blood pooling beneath him. My breath hitched, and every hair on my body stood on end. Before I could even process what I was seeing, something moved in the shadows.

Out of nowhere, a figure lunged at me—a man in a mask, holding a knife. I barely had time to react before I felt a sharp, burning pain across my stomach. He’d cut me, but thankfully it wasn’t too deep. Adrenaline surged through me, and without thinking, I swung my fist, connecting hard with his face. He staggered, and I used the moment to tackle him to the ground.

I didn’t wait to see if he’d get back up. My instincts screamed at me to run, and I did. My legs carried me faster than I thought possible, the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.

When I finally reached my building, I stopped to catch my breath, glancing over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t being followed. The alley behind me was empty, but my pulse refused to slow down.

Shaking, I unlocked my door and stepped inside, locking it tightly behind me. I pressed my hand against the shallow cut on my stomach, wincing at the sting. Tonight had taken a sharp turn I hadn’t expected, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that the masked man wouldn’t be the last of my worries.

I stumbled into the bathroom, flicking on the light with shaky hands. The sight in the mirror stopped me in my tracks, my shirt was stained with blood, and my face was pale, beads of sweat clinging to my forehead.

Grabbing the bottle of alcohol from the cabinet, I pulled out a clean towel. My hands trembled as I poured the alcohol onto the fabric, the sharp smell stinging my nose. Bracing myself, I pressed it against the wound on my stomach.

The pain was immediate and searing, and I couldn’t hold back a hiss. The blood hadn’t stopped flowing yet, so I kept pressure on the cut, watching the towel turn red. My breathing was uneven, the events of the night replaying in my head.

As I waited for the bleeding to slow, the thought crossed my mind: I should call the police. But just as quickly, I shook my head. The idea made my stomach twist—not from the wound, but from a deeper anger.

What would they do? Show up hours later, ask a few questions, and then write it off as just another random attack? They were pigs, more interested in their own power than in actually protecting people. I’d seen it before—stories of neglect, abuse, and indifference. They didn’t care about people’s lives, not really.

No, calling them wasn’t worth it. I’d take care of this myself, just like I always had.

When the bleeding finally slowed, I tied the towel tightly around my waist, makeshift as it was. I’d have to properly bandage it later, but for now, I just needed to sit down and let my head stop spinning.

I sank into the couch, the exhaustion and pain washing over me like a tidal wave. My eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and before I knew it, the world faded to black.

A loud, sharp knock jolted me awake. "Police! Open up!"

Panic shot through me like lightning. My mind raced, the events of the alley flashing before my eyes. Another knock followed, louder this time. "Police! Open up!"

I forced myself up, every movement a struggle, and shuffled to the door. Cracking it open just enough to peek out, I froze when I saw who was standing there.

"Javier?" I blurted out, my voice shaky and hoarse.

His brows furrowed slightly. "What are you doing here?" I tried to sound casual, like nothing was wrong, but my heart was pounding in my chest.

"Mmm... I’m working," he said, tilting his head as if to study me. My heart skipped a beat—nice, he’s a cop, I thought. Suddenly, the pieces began to click.

"How can I help you?" I asked, my tone sharper than I intended, trying to mask my unease.

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment on my tone. "Have you seen anything strange around here? Heard anything unusual?" he asked, his voice steady, professional.

"No, not really," I replied, forcing calm into my words. But as I spoke, I glanced down for a second—big mistake. My shirt was damp, the wound on my stomach was bleeding like crazy.

Before I could react, dizziness swept over me like a wave, and the room tilted.

"Kid, are you okay?" Javier’s voice sounded far away, his concern cutting through the haze.

I felt my knees give out, and I reached for his shoulder instinctively, gripping it like a lifeline.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "I need to get you to a hospital."

"No," I croaked, barely audible. Summoning the last bit of strength I had, I clutched at him weakly. "No... no hospital."

And then the darkness claimed me again.

I wasn’t sure what pulled me out of the darkness, but a distant voice echoed in my mind, drawing me back. Slowly, I opened my eyes, blinking against the dim light. My head pounded, and my body felt heavy, like I’d been hit by a truck.

I didn’t recognize where I was—a small room, sparsely furnished but clean. Panic crept in as I tried to piece together what had happened. Before I could fully gather my thoughts, the door creaked open, and Javier stepped inside.

"Hey, hey, slow down, kid," he said, his voice calm but firm, rushing to my side. "You’ve been injured."

As he spoke, his hand moved to steady me, gently holding me by the shoulder and the side of my stomach, where the wound throbbed.

"Trust me, I know," I muttered, wincing as I shifted. The pain shot through me like a reminder of my reckless shortcut.

Javier shook his head, a mix of frustration and concern on his face. "You’re lucky it wasn’t worse. You passed out at your door. I had to bring you here."

"Here?" I glanced around the room again.

"My place," he said simply. "I didn’t think you’d want a hospital, and judging by your reaction earlier, I was right. Besides, I had the supplies to take care of you."

I looked at him, confused. "Supplies?"

He gestured toward a small table near the couch where I was lying. A sewing kit, gauze, and medical tape were laid out neatly.

"I stitched you up," he explained, his tone matter-of-fact. "The cut wasn’t deep enough to need a surgeon, but it still needed to be closed. I’ve had to handle worse out in the field."

"Stitched?" My eyes widened as my hand instinctively moved toward my stomach, but he caught my wrist before I could pull at the bandage.

"Don’t touch it," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "You’ll just mess it up. Trust me, you don’t want to go through that pain again."

I let my hand drop, nodding slowly. "Thanks... for doing that. And for not taking me to the hospital."

He shrugged, leaning back in the chair he’d pulled closer. "You’re welcome. But don’t get the wrong idea—this doesn’t mean I think you handled things the right way. You could’ve bled out."

"I didn’t," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady, though his words hit uncomfortably close to home.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "Yeah, well, next time you find yourself in trouble, don’t be stubborn. Call someone. You can’t always handle things on your own."

I glanced at the neat stitches under the bandage, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and embarrassment. "I’ll... keep that in mind."

"Good," he said, standing up. "You should rest. Moving around too much could open the wound again."

"Sorry," I said, swinging my legs off the couch despite the pain that shot through me. "But I need to go."

Javier turned sharply, frowning. "No, no, you can’t leave in your condition. You’ve been stitched up, not magically healed."

I stood slowly, clutching my side. "Javi, don’t take this the wrong way, but one—I have to open my shop. And two..." I hesitated, trying to find the right words. "I don’t like being in a place with a police officer."

That seemed to hit him. His brows furrowed, and his expression shifted between sadness and frustration. "You don’t like...?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate everything you did for me—stitching me up, bringing me here, everything. But I just can’t stay."

I grabbed my phone and jacket, determined to leave before this got more complicated. I limped toward the door, every step a mix of pain and stubbornness. Just as I reached for the handle, a strong hand slammed against the door, keeping it shut.

"You’re not leaving," Javier said, his voice low but firm.

I turned to face him, my heart racing. His dark eyes locked onto mine, a mix of concern and something else I couldn’t quite read.

"Javi—"

"Listen to me," he cut me off, his hand still pressed firmly against the door. "You’re hurt, and walking around in your condition isn’t just stupid—it’s reckless. I don’t care how tough you think you are or how much you need to get back to work. You’re staying here until I know you’re not going to keel over in the middle of the street."

His words were sharp, but his voice softened as he added, "And about the whole 'police officer' thing—I get it. But I’m not just some badge, okay? I’m a guy trying to help you."

His hand slowly slid from the door, but he didn’t move back. "So, can you please just sit down and let me make sure you’re okay?"

I hesitated, torn between my instinct to bolt and the weight of his words. Finally, I nodded, sighing. "Fine. But only for a little while."

Javier stepped back, a small, relieved smile tugging at his lips. "Good. Now, sit down, and I’ll make you something to eat. You look like you could use it."

I didn’t say a word as he watched me, his dark eyes unwavering. After a moment, Javier brushed his thumb across his bottom lip, a small habit I couldn’t help but notice, and then he turned away, heading straight for the kitchen.

The sounds of clattering pans and the faint sizzle of bacon filled the air, grounding me a little as I sat back on the couch. When he finally emerged, he placed a plate on the table with eggs, bacon, and two mugs of black coffee.

"Where’s your food?" I asked, frowning as I noticed he didn’t bring anything for himself.

Javier shrugged, leaning casually against the counter. "Oh, I’ve got stock at the station. This is just for you."

"Yeah, right," I said with a raised brow. I pushed myself up, ignoring the sharp ache in my side, and grabbed a spare plate from the counter. Before he could protest, I divided the food, sliding one egg and two strips of bacon onto the second plate.

"We share," I said simply, setting the plate in front of him.

Javier stood beside me, his big, expressive eyes locked on mine, filled with something I couldn’t quite name. Gratefulness? Surprise? Whatever it was, it made the air feel heavier, like all the tension I’d been trying to ignore had condensed into this one moment.

He didn’t argue. Instead, he sat down across from me, his gaze flicking between me and the plate like he wasn’t used to someone doing something so... small but thoughtful.

The silence between us felt louder than it should have. Every glance, every small movement—his hand brushing against the mug, the way he sipped his coffee—it all felt charged.

I caught myself staring too long, his lips curved around the edge of the mug, and I quickly looked away. Get your shit together, I thought, my heart beating way too fast. He’s a fucking cop.

But then he looked at me again, his eyes soft and warm, and for a split second, I thought about leaning in. About closing the space between us and finding out if his lips tasted like coffee or something sweeter.

Instead, I shoved another bite of bacon into my mouth and cleared my throat. "So... you’re just gonna stare at me all morning, or are you actually gonna eat?"

Javier chuckled, his smirk returning. "I’ll eat. But you might want to work on your bedside manner, kid. You’re not exactly the grateful patient type."

"Grateful patient? That’s rich coming from someone who stitched me up and then guilt-tripped me into staying," I shot back, smirking.

His laugh was deep, genuine, and I couldn’t help but smile. For a moment, the tension melted, replaced by something lighter.

"You know, this coffee is amazing," I said, taking another sip and savoring the bitterness.

"Stop," Javier replied, rolling his eyes with a small smirk. "It’s just black coffee."

Before I could argue, his phone buzzed loudly on the counter. He grabbed it, glancing at the screen before standing up to answer.

"Hey, Murphy, what’s up?" he said, his voice casual but with an edge of irritation.

As he listened, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with practiced ease. The faint scent of tobacco filled the room as he leaned against the wall, his free hand resting on his hip.

"I’m not coming in today," he said after a moment, his tone firm. "I’m feeling a little sick."

I raised an eyebrow at that, watching him as he paced a few steps.

There was a pause while the person on the other end—Murphy, I guessed—kept talking. Javier nodded absently, taking a drag from his cigarette, the faint glow of the ember catching my attention.

"Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine," he said, exhaling smoke in a slow stream. "You have a good day."

With that, he hung up and set the phone on the counter, stubbing the cigarette out in a small ashtray nearby.

"You called in sick?" I asked, unable to hide my surprise.

Javier turned to me with a shrug. "Figured someone should stick around and make sure you don’t try to do anything stupid, like open your shop in your condition."

I snorted, leaning back in my chair. "You’re really milking this whole 'you’re hurt' thing, huh?"

"Call it what you want," he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. "But I’m not letting you out of my sight until I know you’re okay."

"Why?" I asked, setting my mug down a little too hard. The sound echoed in the quiet room, but I didn’t care. "Why do you care? You don’t know me. You just came to my shop, got some coffee, and now you’re acting like—"

"Like what?" he interrupted, his voice calm but edged with something I couldn’t place.

"Like we’re friends or something," I finished, the anger bubbling up in my chest. I wasn’t even sure why I was mad, but the words kept coming. "We’re not. You don’t owe me anything, and I don’t need you playing hero."

Javier didn’t flinch at my tone. He just looked at me, his dark eyes steady, unreadable. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Maybe you’re right," he said finally, his voice quieter. "Maybe I don’t know you. But I know what it’s like to have no one around when you need them. And I’m not about to walk away from someone who’s clearly been through... whatever the hell you’ve been through."

His words hit harder than I expected. My shoulders tensed, and I looked away, staring down at my hands on the table.

"I don’t need help," I muttered, though it sounded weak even to my own ears.

"Maybe not," Javier said, stepping closer. His tone was firm, but not unkind. "But you’re getting it anyway. So stop trying to push me away like I’m some stranger who doesn’t give a damn."

"But you are a stranger," I said, my voice cold as I stood up.

Javier’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t move.

Before he could respond, I grabbed my things and pushed past him, putting some space between us. "Thanks for the stitches, but I’m done here."

He reached out like he might stop me but let his hand drop, his jaw tightening as he watched me walk to the door.

For a split second, I hesitated, hoping—wanting—him to say something, to stop me. But he didn’t.

I opened the door and stepped outside, letting it shut behind me with a soft thud.

The night air was cold against my skin, the quiet of the street amplifying the sound of my hurried footsteps. My chest was tight, a knot of anger, frustration, and something I didn’t want to admit.

Part of me hoped he would come after me, but as I glanced back over my shoulder, the house remained still, the warm light from the window glowing faintly.

He didn’t follow.

The disappointment hit harder than I expected, but I swallowed it down, walking faster.

I didn’t need him.

I didn’t need anyone.

When I got home, the first thing that greeted me was the bloodstained towel and the mess from the night before. The sight of it all—the dried blood, the chaotic reminder of everything that had happened—made my stomach turn.

I sighed, setting my things down carefully. The last thing I needed was to rip my wound open again. Slowly, I moved through the room, picking up the towel and tossing it into the sink. The coppery scent of dried blood hit me as I rinsed it under the faucet, the water turning pink before swirling down the drain.

I wiped the counters, sweeping away any lingering evidence of the chaos. My side ached with every movement, but I ignored it, focusing on getting the place back to some semblance of normal.

When I finally finished, I collapsed onto the couch, wincing as my body protested. The quiet of the apartment settled over me, but my mind refused to match the stillness.

The masked man. The body.

The image flashed through my head, vivid and relentless. His face—or what little I’d seen of it behind the mask—haunted me. The glint of the knife. The feeling of warm blood soaking into my clothes.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push it all away. But then, unbidden, another thought crept in: Why didn’t Javier ask me how I got the wound?

He had every opportunity. He clearly knew something was off—his questions, the way he looked at me, it all screamed that he was suspicious.

Should I have told him?

The thought sent a shiver through me. Could I have trusted him with the truth? Would he have believed me? Or would he have just dragged me down to the station, thrown me into some interrogation room, and treated me like a suspect instead of a victim?

My chest tightened as doubt crept in. Maybe I’d made the right choice by walking away. Or maybe…

I shook my head, cutting the thought short. What was done was done. I just needed to stay focused, keep my head down, and figure out what the hell I was going to do next.

As I was on the couch, trying to steady my thoughts, a loud knock on the door jolted me upright. It wasn’t friendly or casual—it was urgent, almost threatening.

I stood, heart pounding, and approached cautiously.

Then came the crash.

The door slammed open, nearly ripping off its hinges. In the doorway stood the masked man, his silhouette framed by the dim light from the hall.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, barely processing before he charged at me.

His fist swung wide, catching me across the jaw before I could react. Pain exploded in my face as I stumbled back, barely keeping my balance.

He didn’t stop. Another punch came, slamming into my ribs and knocking the air out of me. I doubled over, gasping, but as his arm came down again, I raised mine to block it. My palm collided with his elbow, pushing it away as I pivoted and delivered a sharp kick to his side.

He grunted, staggering, but recovered quickly.

The next thing I knew, his shoulder drove into me like a battering ram, sending us both crashing into the coffee table. I hit the floor hard, shards of broken glass digging into my palms as I scrambled to push him off.

His knee came up, slamming into my stomach. I choked on the pain but managed to twist my body, throwing him off me just enough to roll away.

“Bastard,” I growled, spitting blood as I got to my feet.

He lunged, aiming a wild punch at my head. I ducked, countering with a jab to his gut, then a quick uppercut that snapped his head back. But he was relentless, shaking it off and swinging again.

This time, his fist caught me square in the temple, and stars burst in my vision. I staggered, barely keeping my footing as he pressed the advantage, landing another punch to my shoulder that spun me around.

I stumbled into the kitchen, grabbing the edge of the counter to steady myself. He was on me in an instant, slamming me into the cabinets with enough force to rattle the dishes inside.

Fury flared in me, overriding the pain. I turned sharply, grabbing the edge of the counter and using it to propel myself into a spin kick that caught him in the side of the head.

He hit the floor but rolled immediately, snatching up a knife from the counter.

“Shit,” I hissed, backing away.

He swung the blade in tight arcs, forcing me to stay on the defensive. Each slash came closer than the last, grazing my shirt, cutting the air just inches from my skin.

As I staggered back from the blow, my heart hammering in my chest, I saw my chance. The masked man was disoriented, his breath coming in ragged gasps as we circled each other. I moved quickly, grabbing at the edge of his mask. It came off with a tug, revealing a face I didn’t recognize—a rough-looking guy, maybe in his late thirties. His dark hair was slicked back, his face marked with a few scars. His eyes were cold, like he’d seen too much, and his jaw was clenched in frustration.

Before I could say anything, he froze, his eyes darting to the window.

I heard the distant sound of sirens growing louder, and in a flash, he made a break for it.

Without warning, he bolted for the window, shoving it open and scrambling out onto the first-floor ledge.

“Shit!” I shouted, stumbling forward, but it was too late. He was already gone, his figure disappearing into the shadows.

I barely had time to catch my breath when the sound of sirens filled the air.

The police arrived moments later, rushing through the door with weapons drawn. I raised my hands, trying to steady my breathing.

“He—he jumped out of the window,” I managed to say, pointing toward the open window where he’d disappeared. “I—I saw him run. He’s gone.”

A few officers immediately moved toward the window, peering out into the darkness below.

One of them, a tall woman with short-cropped hair, turned back to me. “You’re sure?”

I nodded. “I’m sure.”

They quickly began their search around the building, but I could tell he was already long gone.

Javier entered last, his expression grim. His eyes scanned the room, locking onto me with a mix of concern and irritation.

“You good?” he asked, his voice soft but tense.

I swallowed hard, nodding again. “Yeah. I’m fine. He... he didn’t get me.”

Javier didn’t seem convinced, his eyes flicking to the window and then back to me. “That guy’s fast. Let’s hope we can catch him before he gets too far.”

The officers began their work, and Javier stayed close, his presence a grounding force in the chaos.

After I gave my statement to one of the officers, explaining what happened, they started taking evidence from the scene. My house felt like it was under complete scrutiny, and the officers moved in and out with cold efficiency, their voices a blur of unintelligible chatter.

One officer, a woman with short hair and a focused expression, approached me next. “I need you to describe the man in as much detail as possible,” she said, pulling out a small notepad and a pen. “We’re going to sketch him. Every little thing helps.”

I nodded, trying to gather my thoughts. I described his face, his build, the scars I had seen, the way he moved, his clothes—everything I could remember. The officer jotted everything down as I spoke, her eyes focused and intense.

As she worked, I heard snippets of conversation between the other officers. “He is definitely a part of some anarchist group,” one muttered. “Fucking communists causing trouble around here.”

I could feel my anger rising. I had enough of their generalizations and disrespect. I turned to face them, unable to hold it in anymore. “Is there something wrong, pigs?” I snapped, my voice cold, challenging.

The officer closest to me, a man with dark hair and a rough expression, glared at me, stepping forward aggressively. “You got a problem, kid?” he growled, his posture tense as if ready to pounce.

I tensed, preparing myself for whatever was coming. My fists clenched, my body coiling, ready to throw a punch. I wasn’t scared of him. I’d been through worse.

But then, just as the situation was about to escalate, I heard a sharp voice cut through the tension.

“STOP!”

It was Javier, his voice commanding and fierce. He stepped in between me and the officer, placing a hand on the man’s chest, pushing him back slightly. “Leave the kid alone,” he ordered, his voice low but filled with authority. “You’re not helping anything.”

The officer hesitated, clearly aware of the weight Javier's presence carried. After a tense moment, he muttered something under his breath and stepped back, unwilling to challenge Javier further.

Without a word, Javier grasped my arm and gently but firmly guided me out of my apartment. The cool air hit me immediately, sharp against my skin, and the fog of confusion from the fight began to lift, replaced by a gnawing clarity.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Javier’s voice was low, controlled, but the frustration was unmistakable. “You really trying to dig yourself deeper into this mess?”

I opened my mouth, but the words didn’t come. Part of me wanted to argue, but I knew it was futile. The anger simmered beneath the surface, but I kept quiet.

“Do you even realize what happens when you call a cop a ‘pig’?” Javier pressed on, his voice tinged with concern. “You think that’s gonna help your situation?”

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, barely audible, my eyes flicking to the ground. What was I supposed to say to that? Everything felt like it was spiraling out of control, and I was just trying to hold on.

Javier’s tone softened, though the concern remained. He stopped walking, turning me so I was facing him directly. His eyes narrowed, assessing me with a piercing gaze. “You almost died tonight,” he said, his words heavy, as if trying to make me understand the gravity of the situation.

I didn’t reply. What was there to say? He was right, but I wasn’t sure I could process it just yet. My stomach felt like it was full of concrete, and every inch of me ached with exhaustion.

Javier sighed softly and lifted his hand to my shirt, tugging it up gently to see the wound. I flinched instinctively, but his touch was careful, almost reverent. “You’re still bleeding,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking over the damage to my body—scrapes, bruises, the deep gash at my side.

I looked down at the blood slowly soaking through the fabric, and for the first time since the attack, I felt the full weight of what had happened.

“You’re a mess,” Javier muttered, more to himself than to me, though his voice held no judgment—just concern. “I shouldn’t have let you leave my place like this.”

I winced at his words. Part of me wanted to argue, to shrug it off, but the truth hung heavy in the air. My body was covered in wounds, bruises that felt like they belonged to someone else.

“I’m fine,” I said, though it came out weaker than I intended. “Just bruises.”

Javier’s gaze softened, but his determination didn’t waver. “You’re not fine,” he replied firmly, reaching for his phone. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

“No hospital,” I said, my voice a little more urgent than I had planned.

His brows furrowed. “Why?” he asked, disbelief creeping into his tone. “You’re seriously not going to the hospital?”

“If he found my house, he’d definitely think that after all this, I’d be heading to the hospital,” I replied, my voice tinged with frustration.

Javier opened his mouth to respond, but I cut him off. “What are you gonna do, send someone after me?” I scoffed. “Javi, they’re not gonna protect me. They’ll just see a ‘communist’ and brush me off.”

He exhaled sharply, a mixture of annoyance and concern clouding his features. “Yeah, better than nothing. But you’re not getting it. If he finds you again, he’s gonna kill you, kid.”

My eyes locked onto his, and I felt a flash of heat surge through me. “No, no, you don’t get it. If he finds me again, I’m gonna kill him.” My words came out colder than I meant, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins drowned out any sense of restraint.

Javier stared at me, his jaw tightening. “Don’t talk like that,” he warned, though his voice held more concern than reprimand. “You’re not a killer, don’t let yourself go there.”

I didn’t respond, just turned and made my way to the door. Part of me wanted to just disappear, to bury myself in the chaos of it all. But there was no escaping what had happened—and there was no escaping the fact that I wasn’t about to sit idly by and let that man come after me again.

“You can’t do this alone, kid,” Javier said, his voice softer now, but still firm. “Let me help you.”

I hesitated, my hand on the doorknob, but my mind was already made up. "I’ve got this," I muttered, stepping out into the cold night air, leaving Javier standing there, watching me.

I was consumed with anger, a sense of isolation gnawing at me. I didn’t have anyone to turn to; my house was now a crime scene, and I was alone in this town, uncertain and vulnerable. I found myself back at my shop, the only place that offered any semblance of normalcy. The doors opened, and I stepped inside, my eyes scanning the familiar space, but it felt different—empty, as though something had been stripped away.

Time seemed to blur as I stood there, lost in my thoughts. About an hour passed before I heard a knock on the window. My heart skipped a beat, and I turned slowly, dreading what I might see.

It was Javier.

I opened the door without hesitation, knowing that there was no escaping the moment.

“Kid, please don’t be so stubborn,” he said, his voice edged with concern. “Come with me.”

I didn’t say anything, my anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“Kid, please,” he repeated, his voice softer now, a mixture of plea and frustration.

Still, I remained silent, refusing to show weakness. Javier, however, wasn’t deterred. He stepped closer, his movements purposeful, and without waiting for my permission, grabbed my things. He gently positioned himself in front of me, locking eyes with me, his presence unmistakable.

“Just for tonight,” he said, the words more of a request than a demand, though the tone was unwavering. “Come with me.”

I hesitated, the weight of everything pressing down on me. My pride told me not to, to stand my ground. But in the end, my heart couldn’t ignore the quiet desperation inside me. I gave a reluctant nod, allowing him to lead me out.

As we stepped into the cool night, Javier’s hand found my shoulder. He squeezed it gently, his voice low and sincere.

“I’m here. I know we’re not friends or anything, but I’m here,” he said, his words grounding me in a way I hadn’t expected.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore. The walls I’d built up came crumbling down. Without thinking, I collapsed against his chest, the tears I’d been holding back finally breaking free.

Javier held me without a word, his grip firm yet gentle. One hand rested on my back, the other softly cradling my head, as if trying to shield me from everything. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. His presence was enough, grounding me when I felt like I was about to fall apart. In that moment, I let go, allowing him to hold me as I cried, the tears falling freely now that I wasn’t alone.

When I finally pulled away, my eyes were swollen, and my chest felt raw from the emotion, but there was a small sense of relief. Javier didn’t try to speak right away; he simply offered me a comforting look before guiding me to his car.

The drive was quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space between us. My mind raced, but it was as though I couldn’t find the words. I’d been so angry earlier, and now, in this strange comfort, that anger felt distant, like a faint memory I couldn’t fully grasp.

When we arrived at his home, the familiar ache in my body returned, but there was a strange sense of security here, in this space. Javier led me inside, and the warmth of his home seemed to settle me, even if just a little.

“Go get a shower,” Javier said softly, his voice almost reassuring. “When you’re done, I’ll be here waiting to patch you up again.”

He motioned toward the bathroom, then added, “I’ve already set out a pair of clean towels for you, and I’ll get you some fresh clothes.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak just yet. I didn’t want to admit how much I appreciated his thoughtfulness, but the simple act of caring felt like a weight lifted off my shoulders.

As I stepped into the bathroom, I let the water wash over me, the warmth sinking into my muscles, easing the tension that had built up from the fight, the fear, and everything else. It was the first moment in what felt like ages where I could breathe without feeling like something was closing in on me.

When I finished, I wrapped myself in the clean towels Javier had set out for me, the fabric soft against my skin. As I opened the bathroom door, I saw him standing near the couch, already with a first aid kit in hand, his gaze soft but focused.

"Go to my room," he said, his voice steady. "I left you a spare set of clothes—t-shirt, a clean pair of boxers, socks, and some grey pants."

I nodded, turning to head toward the room he mentioned, but he stopped me.

"I’ll need you to wear only the underwear," Javier added, his tone serious. "I need to check for cuts or wounds on your legs too."

I hesitated for a moment, but then complied. There was no point in arguing when he was trying to help. I slipped into the clean underwear he'd left out for me, the fabric snug and comfortable. As I walked back to the living room, I felt a sense of vulnerability, but I had no choice but to trust him.

When I emerged, Javier was waiting, his expression focused but kind. He motioned for me to sit on the couch, and I did, feeling the weight of my exhaustion pressing on me. He knelt in front of me, his eyes scanning my legs, looking for any more wounds or bruises that I might’ve missed.

I hadn’t realized how many injuries I had until I saw the way his eyes took in each mark, the tenderness in his touch as he inspected my arms and legs. There were bruises from the punches and kicks, cuts from the glass shards, and my right eye was already swelling, turning a deep purple. A cut ran from my left eyebrow, and smaller lacerations marked my arms, my hand bruised and scraped from the earlier fight. And then there was the stomach wound, which he had stitched earlier, now painfully reopened.

"Kid," Javier muttered, his voice low with concern as his fingers gently pressed against the wound, making me wince. "This is still bad. We need to clean it again and close it up properly, but I don’t want to push you too hard."

"I’m fine," I said, trying to sound strong, even though my body screamed otherwise. "Just do what you need to."

Javier didn’t hesitate. He took a deep breath, his brow furrowing as he went to work, carefully cleaning the cut on my stomach first. His hands were steady, even though I could see the concern in his eyes. He worked in silence, focused on getting the job done, but there was an unspoken understanding between us, something that told me he actually cared.

After some time, he finished and gently patted the bandage on my stomach. “You’re all set, kid. Just try not to reopen it again, okay?”

“Okay,” I nodded, wincing slightly as I adjusted myself.

Javier stood up, grabbing a bottle of water from the bedside table. “Let’s get your bed ready,” he said as he moved to the side.

I hesitated. “What? I’m not taking your bed, Javi.”

“Don’t argue with me, kid. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I’ll stay on the couch,” I insisted.

“Kid, no. It’s really okay. Just rest.”

“Javi,” I said firmly, “If you don’t sleep in your bed, I’m not staying.”

Javier looked at me, a moment of frustration crossing his face, but it softened. “Come on, kid.”

I didn’t argue further, following him to the bed. He made sure the covers were arranged before helping me get under them. My body still ached, but at least I felt a little more comfortable, even though I was only in my underwear.

Javier left the water bottle on the nightstand beside me and started heading toward the door. But before he left, I called out to him.

“Javi.”

“Yeah?” He turned, pausing in the doorway, his hand resting on the frame as he looked back at me.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” I said softly, my voice wavering slightly.

He tilted his head, his brow furrowing. “What are you saying?”

I hesitated, my fingers gripping the edge of the blanket. “Just… stay here. It’s your bed, and I don’t feel right making you sleep out there.” My voice dropped lower, barely audible. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Javier’s eyes softened, his posture relaxing as he studied me. For a moment, I thought he might argue, but instead, he sighed quietly and nodded.

He didn’t say anything as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his chest. The soft trail of hair leading down from his sternum caught my attention, but I quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise in my face. He unbuckled his jeans next, sliding them off with practiced ease before folding them and placing them neatly on the chair by the wall.

Wordlessly, he moved to the bed and slipped under the covers beside me. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, the faint scent of his cologne filling the space between us.

We lay there in silence, his presence both comforting and nerve-wracking. My heart thudded against my ribcage, and I turned my head to find him already looking at me.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” he replied, his voice steady, almost soothing. “But I want to.”

His words were simple, but they carried a weight that made my chest ache. Without thinking, I shifted closer to him, and his arm moved instinctively, wrapping around me. His hand rested lightly on my back, his thumb brushing small, reassuring circles against my shoulder.

“Thank you,” I murmured, my face pressed against his chest.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said quietly, his other hand coming up to gently cradle the back of my head. “I’m here.”

We lay there, just the two of us, in silence. His eyes locked with mine, and the tension between us was thick, almost electric. I could feel the weight of everything unsaid in that moment. Javier’s gaze softened as he leaned in slowly, his arms wrapping around me in a careful, gentle embrace. Our faces were inches apart.

Without thinking, something inside me snapped. I leaned in, my lips pressing against his in a quick, soft kiss. His mustache brushed my skin, a light tickle that sent a shiver down my spine. The kiss was fleeting, but it was enough. My heart hammered in my chest, unsure of what had just happened, yet feeling the pull of something I couldn’t quite name.

Javier didn’t pull away immediately. His body tensed for just a second, his breath catching as if he was just as surprised as I was. But then, he relaxed, the warmth radiating from him drawing me in like a steady flame.

We didn’t speak. Neither of us seemed ready to break the fragile quiet that had settled over us. The room was dim, the soft rustle of the sheets the only sound as I stayed close to him, my heartbeat thrumming in my ears.

As I lay there, my thoughts spun uncontrollably. Did I really just kiss a man I met a day ago? A cop, no less? And now I’m in his bed, clinging to him like he’s my lifeline?

The questions circled in my mind, but none of them felt as important as the steady rise and fall of Javier’s chest beneath my cheek. The warmth of his skin, the quiet strength of his arms around me—it was grounding in a way I hadn’t felt in so long.

I closed my eyes and exhaled deeply, pushing the doubts and second-guessing to the back of my mind. For now, I let myself rest, letting my head settle against his chest, where the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled me into a fragile sense of peace.

Javier didn’t move or speak, and that silence was more comforting than any words could have been. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt safe enough to just exist in the moment, even if it didn’t make sense.

And slowly, against the odds, I drifted into sleep.

That night was so peaceful it felt like I had slept for days. I couldn’t remember the last time I woke up feeling so rested, like a weight had been lifted—at least for a little while.

When I opened my eyes the next morning, the first thing I noticed was that the bed beside me was empty. Javier was gone. For a moment, a pang of sadness hit me, an ache I didn’t expect. The warmth of his presence from last night was replaced by an emptiness that made the room feel colder.

I sighed, sitting up slowly, my body stiff and sore. Every movement reminded me of the fight, the bruises, and the open wounds. I winced as I stretched and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

The clothes Javier had left for me the night before were neatly folded on a chair. I pulled on the gray pants, the black T-shirt, and the socks, each motion slow and deliberate. The fabric was soft and clean, but everything still felt heavier on my aching body.

I made my way out to the kitchen, each step echoing faintly in the quiet apartment. The smell of coffee and faint smoke greeted me before I saw him. Javier stood by the counter, leaning against it with a mug in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He wore a fitted khaki T-shirt and black jeans, his hair slightly messy, like he hadn’t been awake for long.

“Hey, good morning,” he said, his voice warm but casual. As soon as he saw me, he stubbed out the cigarette and quickly moved to pour another mug of coffee.

“Good morning,” I replied, my voice soft as I shuffled to the table and sank into a chair.

Javier placed the steaming mug in front of me, his expression softening as he glanced over me. “How’re you feeling?”

“Sore,” I admitted, wrapping my hands around the mug. The warmth seeped into my palms, but it didn’t quite reach the ache in my muscles. “Everything hurts more now.”

He pulled out a chair across from me and sat down, his gaze steady and concerned. “That’s normal. The adrenaline wears off, and you feel it all at once.”

I nodded, taking a small sip of the coffee. It was strong and bitter, just how I liked it. The silence between us wasn’t awkward—it was comforting in a way, like neither of us needed to fill the space with words.

“Javi, can I take one?” I asked, nodding toward the pack of cigarettes on the table.

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t hesitate as he slid the pack and lighter toward me. “You smoke?”

I hesitated for a second as I picked one up, rolling it between my fingers. “I was smoking a lot of pot...” The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I froze, realizing who I was talking to—a cop.

Javier leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable for a moment. I braced myself for some lecture or even a disapproving look, but instead, he just smirked faintly. “Pot, huh? Well, that explains the calm under pressure.”

“Yeah...” I said, exhaling a stream of smoke, my eyes flitting up to meet his. “Javi, about the kiss last night—”

Before I could finish, he stood, moving toward me with an unhurried confidence that made my breath hitch. Without a word, he plucked the cigarette from my hand, placing it neatly in the ashtray. Then, in one fluid motion, he leaned down and kissed me.

It wasn’t hurried or impulsive—it was deliberate. His lips were warm and steady, and the weight of the kiss felt like an answer to every question swirling in my mind. My body froze for a moment, caught in disbelief, before the tension eased, and I found myself leaning into him, my fingers brushing against the edge of the table to steady myself.

When he finally pulled back, he stayed close, his gaze soft but unreadable. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, his voice low, a quiet reassurance laced in every word.

I winced at the word. “Javi, fuck... I like all this, but I don’t know anything about you, and I want to know,” I said, my words spilling out in a rush. “I don’t want this to be, like, a one-night thing, you know?”

His brows furrowed slightly, and for a moment, I thought I’d said too much. But then his expression softened, and he let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not wrong to ask for that,” he said after a moment, his voice thoughtful. “And you’re right—we don’t know much about each other. This... it’s fast, and I get why that might feel off to you.”

I nodded, my throat tight. “I just... I’ve had enough of people coming into my life and leaving like it meant nothing. I’m not saying this has to mean everything, but I want it to mean something.”

Javier’s eyes searched mine, and I could see something flicker there—understanding, maybe, or regret. “I don’t do one-night stands anymore,” he admitted quietly. “Not for a long time. And I wouldn’t be here now if I thought that’s all this was.”

I blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. “Then why haven’t you told me anything about you?”

Javier hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking away, and then he spoke, his voice steady. “We didn’t have the time to be honest.”

He was right. Our time together had been too short, too rushed for anything real. But I didn’t want to let it slip away.

“But we have now,” he finished, his gaze returning to mine, softer than before.

We sat there for a moment, the air between us quiet but full of unspoken things. Then, slowly, we began to talk—about everything and nothing.

He told me more than I expected, revealing bits and pieces of his life that had always seemed out of reach. Stories of his family, his past, and the things that shaped him into the person sitting across from me.

I listened, drawn in by his words, by the way he spoke so openly when he didn’t need to.

As the conversation drifted, I found myself doing the same—talking about things I hadn’t even realized I needed to say. It was strange, this connection we were building, but it felt like the right kind of strange.

When the silence finally stretched between us again, it was comfortable, not heavy with unanswered questions anymore.

Javier leaned back in his chair, a small smile on his lips. “This feels... good,” he said, voice quieter now.

I nodded, feeling something shift in my chest. “Yeah, it does.”

"Hey, Javi, by the way—something you didn’t mention. How old are you?"

Javier let out a quiet laugh, setting his coffee mug down and leaning back in his chair. His arms crossed, his smirk almost playful. "I’m turning 40 this year."

I blinked, my eyes going wide. "Fuck off," I said, genuinely surprised. "No way."

He just looked at me, deadpan. "Yeah, I’m getting old."

"Fuck, you’re a grandpa," I teased, smirking.

Javi laughed, shaking his head. "Stop it," he said, clearly amused but trying to play it cool.

I couldn’t resist. "I mean, you’re calling me ‘kid,’ but I could definitely be your kid."

His eyes widened for a second, then he threw his hands up. "Fuck off," he said, chuckling but looking a little flustered.

I got up, stepping toward him, my heart beating a little faster. I looked into his eyes, the words bubbling up before I could stop them. "I like it," I said, my voice softer than I meant. "I like you."

Before he could respond, I leaned down, closing the gap between us, and kissed him. It was quiet at first, almost tentative, but it felt like everything I had been trying to say, all the things that had been building up, poured into that one moment.

It started slow, tentative, my lips brushing against his in a delicate dance. But then his hand came up to cradle the back of my neck, pulling me closer, and the kiss deepened. His tongue slid against mine, hot and demanding, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. My hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping tightly as if I might fall if I let go.

When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathing heavily. His eyes searched mine, filled with questions, but before he could say anything, I dropped to my knees in front of him.

“What are you—” he started, but I cut him off, my fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt. His breath hitched as I undid his pants, pulling them down just enough to free him.

He was already half-hard, and I wrapped my hand around him, stroking him slowly, feeling the weight of him in my palm. I glanced up at him, meeting his gaze, and saw the hunger there, the way his jaw tightened as I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his hand tangling in my hair as I took him into my mouth.

I moved slowly, savoring the taste of him, the way his body responded to every flick of my tongue, every gentle pull of my lips. Javier groaned, his grip on my hair tightening just enough to send a thrill through me. I loved this—the control, the power I had in this moment, even as I knelt before him. I loved the way he cursed under his breath, the way his hips bucked slightly, as if he couldn’t help himself.

But I wasn’t in a rush. I wanted to take my time, to tease him, to draw out every sound, every reaction. I pulled back slightly, letting my tongue swirl around the head of his cock before taking him deeper, until my nose brushed against his stomach. His thighs tensed, and I could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his entire body seemed to coil with anticipation.

“Jesus,” he breathed, his voice rough. “You’re going to kill me.”

I smirked around him, letting my teeth graze lightly before sucking harder, my hand working in tandem with my mouth. Javier’s moan was louder this time, unrestrained, and it sent a jolt of arousal straight through me. I could feel myself hardening in my own pants, but I ignored it, focusing entirely on him, on the way his body trembled under my touch.

His hand in my hair tightened again, and he tugged gently, urging me to stop. Reluctantly, I pulled back, looking up at him with a question in my eyes.

“Not like this,” he said, his voice strained. “I want—fuck, I want more.”

I stood slowly, my knees protesting slightly, and Javier grabbed my wrist, pulling me down onto his lap. His hardness pressed against me, and I sucked in a sharp breath as his hands slid under my shirt, his fingers trailing over my skin. His touch was electric, sending sparks wherever he touched, and I arched into him, needing more.

His lips found mine again, this kiss hungrier, more desperate than before. I could feel the urgency in him now, the way his hands roamed over my body, exploring, claiming. When his fingers dipped below the waistband of my pants, I gasped, my hips jerking involuntarily.

“Javier,” I murmured against his mouth, my voice shaking. “Please.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement. In one swift motion, he stood, lifting me with him, and set me down on the edge of the table. His hands were everywhere, stripping me of my clothes, without touching my wounds or burses his mouth following, leaving searing kisses and bites along my neck, my chest, my stomach. By the time he straightened, I was trembling, my body aching for him.

Javier stepped back just enough to kick off his pants completely, his cock standing proudly, fully hard now. He reached into the drawer, pulling out a small bottle of lube, and I felt a fresh wave of arousal wash over me. He was always prepared, always careful, and that's what i like about him.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes searching mine.

I nodded, unable to form words, and he smiled softly, leaning in to kiss me again. This kiss was slower, almost tender, a stark contrast to the heat of moments before. When he pulled back, he poured some lube onto his fingers, warming it before reaching between us.

The first press of his finger against me made me gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. He went slowly, easing me open with a patience that drove me mad. By the time he added a second finger, I was panting, my hips rocking against his hand, desperate for more.

“Javi,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I need you. Now.”

He didn’t hesitate. Positioning himself at my entrance, he looked into my eyes, holding my gaze as he pushed inside. The stretch burned, but in the best possible way, and I clung to him, my nails scraping down his back as he filled me completely.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his forehead resting against mine. “You feel—”

I cut him off with a kiss, unable to wait any longer. Javier began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, giving me time to adjust. But soon the rhythm picked up, his hips snapping against mine, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, wanting to feel every inch of him.

“Don’t stop,” I begged, my voice breaking on the words. “Please, don’t stop.”

He didn’t. Instead, he leaned down, his lips finding the sensitive spot on my neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. I cried out, my hands clutching at his back, my nails leaving trails of red against his skin. Every movement, every touch, every sound was overwhelming, and I felt myself teetering on the edge, ready to fall.

“Javi, I’m—”

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “Let go.”

And I did...

So he did too.

The room was filled with the sound of our breathing, heavy and uneven as we both came back down. Javier’s forehead rested against mine, his warm breath fanning across my skin. For a moment, neither of us moved, the stillness between us as profound as the intensity we’d just shared.

I closed my eyes, trying to catch my breath, my body still trembling from the release. Javier’s hands were steady on my waist, grounding me in a way I hadn’t expected.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice low and raspier than usual.

I nodded, my cheek brushing against his as I whispered back, “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Javier pulled back slightly, his dark eyes scanning my face with a softness I wasn’t used to. His hands shifted to my arms, his touch deliberate as he trailed down to my wrists, carefully turning them over to inspect the faint scrapes and bruises there. His fingers were warm, his movements gentle, as though he was afraid of hurting me.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his voice laced with concern.

I nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “Yeah. Just... sore.”

He frowned slightly, his eyes darting to my shoulder where a faint discoloration from an earlier bruise had deepened. His thumb brushed against it, and I winced involuntarily. His expression darkened, guilt flashing in his eyes.

“I should’ve been more careful,” he muttered.

“Javi,” I said softly, reaching up to touch his arm. “I’m fine. Really.”

His gaze met mine, and for a moment, the air between us felt heavier. Slowly, his hand moved upward, grazing my jaw before his thumb traced the corner of my mouth. The gentle brush sent a shiver through me, and my lips parted slightly, the simple act feeling more intimate than anything else.

He leaned in, his movements unhurried, giving me every chance to pull away. But I didn’t. Instead, I tilted my head up, meeting him halfway.

The kiss was soft, tender in a way that made my chest ache. His lips moved against mine with a deliberateness that spoke of restraint, of something deeper simmering beneath the surface. His hand cupped my cheek, steadying me as I melted into him, my hands finding their way to his waist.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine once more, his eyes searching mine for something unspoken.

“You make it hard to keep my distance,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding against my ribcage. “Then don’t,” I whispered, the words spilling out before I could stop them.

Javier let out a soft chuckle, his thumb brushing along my jawline one last time. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

I smirked, my lips tingling from the kiss. “You’re not exactly innocent either, Javi.”

For the first time, he smiled, a genuine curve of his lips that softened the sharp lines of his face. He didn’t say anything else, just pressed a kiss to my forehead before stepping back, his hands lingering on my waist for a second longer than necessary.

“Let me clean you up properly,” he said, breaking the silence

I nodded, watching as he moved around the kitchen with a practiced ease. He grabbed a clean towel from a nearby drawer, dampened it under warm water, and returned to me. Without a word, he crouched slightly, his focus entirely on me as he began cleaning the mess on my stomach.

The warmth of the towel against my skin sent a shiver up my spine. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as though he wanted to make sure he didn’t cause me any discomfort.

“Sorry,” he murmured, glancing up briefly. “I should’ve grabbed this earlier.”

“It’s okay,” I replied, my voice quieter than I intended.

He didn’t look up again, his attention fully on the task at hand. Each swipe of the towel felt like a small act of care, something I hadn’t expected but found myself leaning into.

When he finished, he tossed the towel aside and straightened, his hands brushing against my hips as he stood. His gaze lingered on me, his dark eyes soft yet searching, as though trying to read the thoughts running through my head.

“You good?” he asked, his tone gentle.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good,” he said, his lips curving into a faint smile again. He reached up, his thumb brushing lightly along my jawline. The simple gesture made my chest tighten, the tenderness in his touch something I wasn’t used to but craved more than I wanted to admit.

Javier stepped back, giving me a little space, though the air between us felt charged with something unspoken. “Let’s get you more comfortable,” he said, gesturing toward the living room.

So that’s what I did—I followed him. He led me to the bedroom, rummaging through his drawers until he pulled out a gray hoodie, a pair of black sweatpants, and clean white boxers. He handed them to me with a small, almost bashful smile.

“These should fit,” he said, his voice casual, though his eyes flickered with something softer.

I took the clothes, knowing full well they were going to be huge on me. Hell, even on him, they looked a little roomy. As I started changing, I felt his gaze lingering on me. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was impossible to ignore.

When I finished pulling the hoodie over my head, I turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

Javier’s smirk appeared instantly, subtle but undeniably there. He looked down for a second, almost like he was caught off guard by himself, before meeting my eyes again. “Nothing,” he said, his tone light but warm. “I just like seeing you in my clothes.”

I felt heat creep up my neck, but I rolled my eyes to cover it up. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug, leaning casually against the doorframe, his smirk softening into a genuine smile. “But it’s true.”

The hoodie hung low, almost brushing my thighs, and the sweatpants needed to be rolled at the waist just to stay on. It was comically oversized, but it smelled like him—like coffee, faint tobacco, and something warm and familiar.

“Do I look ridiculous?” I asked, pulling at the hem of the hoodie as I gave him a teasing look.

He tilted his head, pretending to study me. “No,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “You look... good.”

I blinked, the realization hitting me like a brick. "Fuck," I muttered, staring at him. "Did I just have sex with a fucking cop?"

Javier’s eyes widened, and for a second, he looked genuinely startled before his expression shifted to one of mock offense. “No... wait a second,” he shot back, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Did I just fuck an anarchist?”

We both froze for a beat before bursting into laughter, the sound filling the room and breaking whatever tension had lingered. It was ridiculous, but the kind of ridiculous that felt good—light and stupid in the best way.

I doubled over, clutching the too-long sleeves of his hoodie as I laughed harder. “God, this is so messed up,” I said between breaths.

He grinned, his arms crossing over his chest as he leaned back against the doorframe. “You think this is messed up? Try writing the police report on it.”

That only made me laugh harder, and soon enough, he joined in, his usually serious demeanor cracking wide open. For a moment, it didn’t matter how we’d ended up here or what was waiting outside this room. All that mattered was the ridiculousness of the situation and the fact that, somehow, we were both okay with it.

As our laughter died down, Javier reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He held one out to me, the corners of his lips still curved in a faint smile. I took it without hesitation, and he pulled another for himself.

With a flick of his lighter, he lit mine first, the flame briefly illuminating his face in the dim kitchen light. Then he lit his own, taking a slow drag before exhaling a plume of smoke into the air.

It felt oddly normal—like this wasn’t the aftermath of an unexpected night but just two people sharing a moment. I leaned against the counter, savoring the nicotine rush, when Javier’s phone suddenly buzzed on the table.

He glanced at it, muttering a quiet curse before picking it up. “Hey, Murphy, what’s up?” His voice shifted, professional and alert.

I couldn’t make out the words on the other end, but whatever was said made Javier’s eyes widen. His posture straightened, his entire demeanor snapping into focus.

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Yeah, we’re coming.”

He ended the call, slipping his phone into his pocket as he stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. Turning to me, his expression was sharp but not panicked, like someone preparing for the next move in a high-stakes game.

“We need to go,” he said simply. “Now.”

“Javi, what happened?” I asked, my voice tense as I watched him move around the room, grabbing his things in a rush.

He didn’t answer right away, his focus on throwing on his jacket and shoving his wallet into his back pocket. When he finally looked up, his face was grim, his jaw tight.

“Two officers,” he said, his voice low but edged with anger. “They were killed last night. They were searching for the guy who attacked you.”

My stomach dropped, a sharp wave of fear and guilt hitting me all at once. “Fuck,” I whispered, barely audible.

Javier nodded, his expression hardening as he ran a hand over his face. “Yeah. It’s bad. They think he’s still out there, and now we’re trying to figure out his next move. Murphy’s already at the scene—I have to go.”

I hesitated, the words caught in my throat, before finally asking, “Do you think he knows I’m here?”

Javier froze for a moment, his hand resting on the back of a chair. He met my eyes, his gaze sharp and serious. “We don’t know yet. But we’re not taking any chances.”

My chest tightened as I tried to process what he was saying. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re not staying here alone,” Javier said firmly, stepping closer to me. His tone left no room for argument. “You’re coming with me until this is over.”

“But, Javi—”

“No,” he cut me off, his voice softening but still resolute. “It’s not safe. If he even suspects you’re here, he won’t hesitate. I need you to trust me on this.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat as I tried to keep my voice steady. “Okay. What do we do?”

Javier’s expression softened for a brief moment, his hand squeezing my shoulder. “We get moving. Stick close to me, and we’ll figure this out.”

“Okay,” I said quietly, grabbing my phone and following Javier out to the car. The weight of the situation was pressing down on me, and I could feel it with every step.

Javier opened the passenger door for me, waiting until I got in before shutting it and circling to the driver’s side. The engine roared to life, and we pulled onto the road in tense silence.

I stared out the window, the cigarette between my fingers burning slowly as I took drag after drag. The streets blurred into a haze of motion and smoke, but my mind was racing. I couldn’t shake the image of the two officers Javier had mentioned—their faces unknown but their deaths too real.

Javier must have sensed my anxiety. His jaw was tight as he focused on the road, the cigarette in his other hand burning low. Then, without a word, he reached over and rested his hand on my thigh, the warmth grounding me in a way I didn’t expect.

Every time he took a drag from his cigarette, his hand returned to my leg, a silent reassurance that I wasn’t alone in this. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep me from spiraling completely.

“You okay?” he asked after a while, his voice cutting through the quiet like a lifeline.

I nodded, my gaze still fixed on the passing scenery. “Yeah,” I murmured, though the tightness in my chest said otherwise.

Javier’s grip on my thigh tightened slightly, his fingers pressing just enough to ground me in the moment. “We’re going to handle this,” he said firmly, his voice steady and resolute. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I shook my head, my voice quieter but no less weighted. “I’m not scared that something’s gonna happen to me.”

He glanced at me, his brows furrowing slightly in confusion, and then I turned my head to meet his gaze fully. The moment our eyes locked, understanding flickered in his. He got it.

Javier let out a slow breath, his jaw unclenching as his features softened. “We’re gonna be okay,” he said, his tone low and steady, like he was willing that truth into existence.

I nodded, holding onto his words like a lifeline. His hand didn’t leave my thigh, and for the first time in hours, I let myself believe, just a little, that he might be right.

When we arrived at the scene, Murphy was already there, pacing near the yellow tape. Javier stepped out of the car first, his boots crunching against the gravel as he approached. “Murphy,” he greeted, his voice steady but edged with tension. They exchanged a quick handshake, and then Murphy turned his eyes to me.

I extended my hand, feeling the weight of his curious gaze. “Hi,” I said simply, my voice not betraying the anxiety twisting in my gut. He hesitated for a moment before shaking it firmly, giving me a brief nod of acknowledgment.

As we walked further into the scene, the weight of the air around us grew heavier. The faint scent of iron lingered, even though the bodies had been moved. What remained was the stark evidence of what had happened here—the outlines of their final moments painted on the ground in white, accompanied by pools of dried blood that had seeped into the cracked pavement.

I slowed my steps, taking it in. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional shuffle of feet or the murmur of nearby officers. Javier’s hand hovered near my back, not quite touching but close enough to remind me he was there.

Murphy broke the quiet. “They didn’t stand a chance,” he said, his tone clipped, his eyes locked on the grim outlines. “Whoever did this... they didn’t hesitate.”

Javier nodded grimly, his jaw tight. “Anything new from forensics?”

“Not yet,” Murphy replied. His gaze flicked to me again, his brow furrowed slightly. “Is he…”

Javier cut him off. “He’s with me. He saw something the other night that might connect to this.” His tone left no room for argument, and Murphy nodded, letting it drop.

I stayed quiet, my eyes locked on the scene in front of me, the gravity of it sinking in deeper with every second.

As Javier and Murphy continued their conversation, I let my eyes wander, scanning the dark alleys and shuttered shops surrounding the scene. The oppressive atmosphere seemed to cling to every surface, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something—or someone—was watching.

Then I saw it. A crowd of people had gathered just beyond the taped-off area, murmuring and pointing, their curiosity pulling them closer to the aftermath of violence. And in that cluster of faces, I saw him.

My breath hitched. It was him—the man from that night. The man who had tried to kill me.

I didn’t stop to think. I didn’t weigh the consequences. Something primal and unrelenting surged through me, a mix of anger and fear that propelled me forward.

Before I knew it, I was running.

“Kid!” Javier’s voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding, but I couldn’t stop. My feet pounded against the pavement, my heart racing as I closed the distance between us.

He saw me, and his eyes widened in recognition. Without hesitation, he turned and bolted, weaving through the crowd like a shadow slipping away.

But I wasn’t letting him escape. Not this time.

I darted into one of the dark alleys, my breath heavy as I pushed myself to keep going. The narrow passage was dimly lit, shadows twisting and stretching against the walls. My eyes scanned every corner, every movement, and then I saw him.

He stood there, not running anymore, just waiting, a twisted grin spreading across his face.

“Why did you do it?” I screamed, my voice echoing off the brick walls, raw with anger and frustration.

He tilted his head, almost amused, and chuckled. “Mmm… fun,” he said, the word rolling off his tongue like a taunt. “But you… fuck, you’re a challenge. No one’s ever fought back like you did.”

His words sent a chill down my spine, but I held my ground, my fists clenched.

“We’re gonna meet again soon. Mark my words,” he added, his voice dripping with menace as he started backing away into the shadows.

“Stop!” I shouted, taking a step forward, but he disappeared as quickly as he had appeared.

Before I could move further, Javier and Murphy burst into the alley, their presence breaking the tension.

“Which way?” Javier asked, his eyes scanning the area, his hand already hovering near his holster.

“He went that way,” I said, pointing in the direction the man had vanished. My voice was steady, but inside, I was trembling.

Javier’s hand briefly rested on my shoulder, grounding me. “Stay here,” he said firmly before nodding to Murphy, and the two of them took off in pursuit.

I stood there alone, my chest heaving, the weight of the encounter pressing down on me.

And I did as he said, staying in place, my back pressed against the cold brick wall as the minutes dragged on. When Javier returned, his face was a storm of anger and worry. Without a second thought, he grabbed my arm, his grip firm but not painful, and shouted, “Are you crazy? What was that? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

I opened my mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words, so I just stood there, staring at him.

“You’re not in any condition to fight!” he continued, his voice rising with frustration. “You have a massive cut on your stomach, and you’re running after someone who could have a weapon? What the hell were you thinking?”

He let go of my arm and turned away, running a hand through his hair, his back tense as he tried to calm himself down.

Murphy stood off to the side, silent, his expression unreadable as he watched the scene unfold.

Javier’s voice broke the silence again, quieter this time but no less intense. “Do you even realize how close you were to getting hurt again?”

I still didn’t say anything, the weight of his words settling over me like a heavy blanket.

“You’re right,” I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. I didn’t look at him, didn’t try to defend myself further—I just stood there, my head hanging low.

Javier didn’t respond immediately. He stood there for a moment, his breathing still heavy as he wrestled with his frustration. Finally, he exhaled sharply. “We’re leaving,” he said, his tone clipped.

He didn’t need to tell me twice. I started walking toward the car, the gravel crunching beneath my boots as I moved. I could feel his eyes on me the entire way, heavy with a mix of concern and lingering anger.

The silence stretched between us, thick and uncomfortable, as I climbed into the passenger seat. I didn’t dare look back at him, unsure if I could handle whatever was written on his face.

"Javi, can you drive me home?" I asked quietly, my voice barely above a murmur.

He didn’t say a word, just nodded sharply, his jaw tight as he turned and walked to the car. The silence between us during the drive was suffocating. I stared out the window, smoking to keep my nerves in check, but every glance at him showed the same tense expression on his face. His grip on the steering wheel was firm, his knuckles pale.

When we arrived, I got out and unlocked the door, muttering, “Fuck, this place is bad.”

Still, Javi didn’t say anything as he followed me inside. The mess from earlier was still there—broken glass, blood stains, random junk scattered everywhere. I grabbed a rag and started cleaning up, but I could feel his eyes boring into me the entire time. Finally, he snapped.

“Why the hell would you run after him?” he shouted, his voice sharp and angry.

I froze, my hand gripping the rag tightly. “What else was I supposed to do? Let him get away?”

“Yes!” he shot back. “You’re not a cop. You’re not trained for this. You could’ve gotten yourself killed! You’re already hurt, for fuck’s sake!”

I turned to face him, my own frustration bubbling over. “I didn’t ask for this, Javi! I didn’t ask to see him kill someone, or for him to come after me twice! I didn’t choose this!”

“That doesn’t mean you get to play hero!” he yelled, stepping closer. “Do you have any idea how reckless you were? Running after him, with a massive cut in your stomach? What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I need to stop him!” I shouted back. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing while he’s out there, killing people!”

Javi ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room. “You’re going to get yourself killed,” he said, his tone quieter now but still filled with anger. “And for what? To prove you’re tough? To settle some kind of score? This isn’t your fight.”

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “It is my fight! He came after me, Javi. Twice. What am I supposed to do? Pretend it didn’t happen?”

“No, but you let me and Murphy handle it!” he snapped. “That’s our job, not yours. You’re hurt, you’re angry, and you’re not thinking straight.”

I stared at him, my chest heaving with frustration. “I can’t just sit back and do nothing.”

Javier stepped closer, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and something else—concern, maybe. “You don’t have to sit back, but you don’t get to be stupid about this either. You scared the hell out of me back there. Do you even care about that?”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I looked away, my voice softening. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

I barely had time to process his words when a new text flashed on my phone screen from an unknown number. My heart skipped a beat as I looked at it, the words standing out against the screen in stark, threatening red: "Location in 2 hours. No police or I will kill them too."

“Javi,” I said, my voice shaking as I looked up at him. He was already standing behind me, his eyes narrowing at the message.

He took my phone from my hand, scanning it quickly. His face darkened as he read the text. “Shit.”

Without saying anything more, he pulled out his own phone and began dialing. But before he could press the call button, I grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"Javi, don’t," I said, my voice firm but desperate.

He looked at me, his brows furrowing in confusion and frustration. "What are you doing? We can't just let this slide. We need to get the police involved, now."

I shook my head, grabbing his hand and pulling the phone away. "Don’t just do it, Javi. If you call them, he’ll know. He’ll know we’re coming for him, and he won’t hesitate to make us pay for it. We can’t risk it."

Javier’s eyes didn’t leave mine as I spoke, but the tension in his jaw tightened with every word. He was processing what I was saying, but there was something in his expression that told me he wasn’t going to let this go.

Before I could even finish, he pulled out his phone, his fingers already moving to dial.

“Javi, don’t,” I said, my voice sharp, panic rising in my chest. “Please, don’t do this.”

He didn’t look at me as he pressed the call button, and I could hear the click as the call went through. “I’m handling this, don’t worry. We need the police.”

My heart dropped. I felt a cold rush of fear flood over me. “Javi, no! I told you, you can’t—” I stepped toward him, trying to grab his arm, but he stepped back, shaking his head.

“Not this time. This is bigger than you and me, kid,” he said, voice hardening. “This guy’s dangerous. I’m not letting him get away, not again.”

I swallowed hard, frustration bubbling up. “You don’t get it, Javi. He’ll kill anyone who gets in his way, including the cops. You’re making it worse.”

But it was too late. The call had gone through. Javier’s voice dropped lower as he spoke into the phone, giving instructions, and then he hung up without even looking at me.

I stood there, helpless, the sinking feeling in my stomach growing heavier.

I run at the door and tried to leave, but Javi stopped me. He grabbed my keys from my hand and locked me in my apartment.

“Javi, unlock the door now!” I demanded, banging my fist against the door.

“Sorry, kid, but I can’t. I’m going to finish it tonight,” he said through the door, his voice calm but resolute.

I slumped back against the door, my hand on the cold handle. He was doing this for my own good, I knew it. He thought he was protecting me, but the frustration and helplessness boiled in my chest. I couldn’t just sit here while he handled it on his own.

“Javi!” I screamed again, pounding my fists against the door. “Please, you can’t do this! You don’t know what he’s capable of! He’ll find you!”

I sank down on the floor, feeling the weight of everything pressing on me. I wanted to fight, to break down the door and go after him myself, but I knew I couldn’t. Javi was right in his own way. He was trying to protect me, even if I didn’t agree with how he was doing it.

I closed my eyes, pressing my forehead against the door, feeling the cold wood against my skin. All I could do now was wait. And hope that when it was over, Javi would come back.

I got to my room, my heart pounding as I reached for my phone. I froze mid-motion when I realized it was gone. Javi had taken it for his operation.

"Fuck," I cursed under my breath, dropping back onto the bed. The weight of the situation hit me all at once. My mind raced. The plan was going to hell. Javi hadn’t come back, and now he was leaving me locked in this apartment. I ran my fingers through my hair, cursing again, as I stared at the ceiling. The clock ticked away. An hour passed. Two hours. I couldn’t help but feel the knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach. The time for the meet-up had come and gone, and I hadn’t been there. I was stuck here, waiting, with nothing but the feeling of dread crawling up my spine.

Then it happened.

The sound of glass shattering echoed through the apartment. My heart jumped into my throat. I froze, listening, my ears straining to make sense of the noise. It was unmistakable—the sound of my window breaking. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

"Fuck," I whispered, my voice barely audible in the quiet of the room. Slowly, I pulled myself off the bed, every inch of me screaming to get the hell out of there. I didn’t know who it was, but I had a feeling. It was him.

I moved quietly, my footsteps light on the creaky floorboards. My eyes darted around the room, looking for something—anything—useful. The knife. The one Javi didn’t know about, the one I kept hidden just in case. I sank to my knees beside my bed, pulling up the corner of the wooden plank under my mattress. My fingers fumbled for a second, panic flooding my veins, but finally, I grabbed the cold steel handle. The weight of the knife felt reassuring in my grip.

I held my breath as I heard him. His voice rang out through the night, low and menacing, creeping through the cracks in the door.

"Come out," he said, his tone casual, but there was no mistaking the threat in his voice. "I told you no cops, but you didn’t listen."

My stomach churned. I gripped the knife tighter. My instincts screamed at me to move, to run, but my body froze. If he knew where I was, I wasn’t going to make it out unscathed. I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breathing, trying to think through the panic.

I needed to get to the door, but I couldn’t risk him hearing me. My pulse was thumping in my ears, louder than the silence of the apartment. Every second that passed felt like an eternity.

"Come out, now," his voice was louder this time, closer. I could hear him moving around, probably circling the apartment, searching for any sign of me.

My mind raced. I could try to make a run for it, but that would be too obvious. He’d catch me in no time. If I stayed here, I could at least have the advantage of surprise. He might think I’d bolted, giving me a second to act. But I knew I wouldn’t have many seconds.

I closed my eyes for a moment, just long enough to focus. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had.

I heard him move again, his footsteps coming closer to the door. That was it. I had to do it now.

As the door creaked open, the intruder's shadow filled the doorway. Without thinking, I launched myself at him, my foot connecting with his chest in a quick, hard front kick. He grunted, stumbling back for a second, but I wasn’t giving him a chance to recover. I rushed at him, adrenaline fueling every movement as I drew the knife from my side.

In a flash, I was on him, slashing with everything I had, but he was faster than I expected. He blocked my strikes with his own blade, the sound of metal against metal ringing through the room. His grip was firm, his movements controlled, like he’d done this a hundred times before.

I could feel my heart racing in my chest as I pressed on, not giving him a single moment to breathe. My body was sore, every muscle aching from my previous injuries, but I ignored it. Now wasn’t the time to focus on that. It was survival. The pain, the exhaustion—it all had to be shoved aside.

His knife was like a shadow, always there, parrying my every move. He wasn’t sloppy, not even close. He had the upper hand in skill, and it pissed me off. But I wasn’t about to let him take control.

I slashed again, this time aiming for his throat, but he blocked with a sharp twist, his own blade slashing across my side. A searing pain shot through me, and I gritted my teeth, ignoring the blood that soaked through my shirt. This fight wasn’t over. I wasn’t done yet.

He lunged, trying to catch me off guard with a stab to my stomach. I stepped back just in time, my arm grazing the sharp edge of his knife. Blood dripped from my arm, but I wasn’t going down that easy. I gripped my knife tighter, spun around, and launched another attack.

We circled each other in the small space, both of us breathing heavily, but neither of us giving an inch. Every strike, every block, felt like it could be the one that would end it—one of us would give, and the other would be left standing.

I could feel the heat in my body, the blood pounding in my ears. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep this up, but I wasn’t going to stop. Not now. Not when I was this close.

Then he attacked again. This time, I didn’t block it with my knife. Instead, I grabbed his arm, using the momentum to spin him to the ground. His knife flew from his hand and clattered to the floor.

I didn���t waste any time. I lunged, knife in hand, but he was fast. He blocked my attack, and the force of it sent a jolt of pain through my arm. I pushed harder, trying to break through his defenses, but he was relentless.

Suddenly, his knee slammed into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I staggered back, gasping for air. Before I could recover, he grabbed my knife, wrenching it from my grip.

Pain surged through my body from the impact of his knee, but I wasn’t finished yet. My eyes darted to the floor where his knife had fallen. I shot forward, grabbing it just as he stood, ready for another strike. We were locked in this battle, each of us determined to come out on top. My body screamed in protest, but I ignored it. This fight was far from over.

I was exhausted, my body trembling from the fight, but I refused to stop. I couldn’t let him win. Even if it cost me everything, I’d take him down with me.

I let him come at me, choosing to absorb the hit instead of dodging. The knife tore into my stomach, right where the old wound still pulsed with pain. I gritted my teeth, feeling the blood spill out, but something inside me snapped. It was like a switch flipped. I could either give in... or finish this.

He lunged again. But this time, I didn’t hesitate. I let him come at me, knowing his move would be my opening. I saw it—the way his body moved in the dim light—and I struck.

The blade sank into his throat, a clean, sharp slice. His eyes widened, hands clutching at his neck as he staggered back. He was fading, and I knew this was it.

I barely registered the pain in my stomach, my mind too focused on staying alive. I backed up slowly, slumping against the wall. My head swam, the world tilting around me, and everything began to blur.

Then, I heard the sound of keys jingling. The door creaked open.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath, panic crawling up my spine.

Javier burst in, his eyes scanning the scene before landing on me. The shock in his eyes shifted quickly to horror. His mouth opened, but no words came out as he rushed to the guy's body, checking for a pulse.

I could barely keep my eyes open, my vision dimming, but I heard him clearly. “Stay with me. Stay awake, please.” His voice was tight, panicked, but it steadied when he looked at me.

I wanted to say something, anything to reassure him, but the words wouldn’t come. All I could manage was a weak smile before the darkness began to take over.

Javier’s hand was on mine, gripping tightly. His voice cracked as he spoke again. “Help’s on the way, okay? Just stay with me.”

I wanted to tell him I was fine, but I couldn’t. My head dropped back, and the world around me blurred into nothingness.

I woke up with the harsh sting of light cutting through my mind, disorienting and blinding. My head spun, and I could barely lift my arm, let alone sit up. My body felt like a wreck, each muscle stiff, aching like I had been dragged through a battlefield. The dull throb of pain spread from my stomach to my chest, but it was nothing compared to the burning in my throat.

I tried to speak, but the words came out broken, scratchy. The air felt thick in my lungs, and it hurt just to move.

Suddenly, I heard voices around me—faint at first, muffled, but then clearer, urgent. Footsteps—quick, rushed—and machines beeping in a chaotic rhythm.

“He’s waking up.” The voice wasn’t unfamiliar. But it sounded like it was coming from a distance, like I was hearing it from the edge of a dream. I could barely open my eyes, but the shape next to me became clearer. Javier. His hand, warm and steady, brushed across my forehead, pushing back the strands of my hair that clung there, sticky with sweat.

"Easy," he said, his voice tight, strained. "Don’t try to sit up too quickly."

I swallowed, but the dryness in my throat made it feel like sandpaper. “What... happened?” The words barely left my lips. It felt like I hadn’t spoken in years, but they slipped out anyway, hoarse and desperate.

“You’re at the hospital,” Javier said, his voice softer now, more gentle, but I could feel the fear wrapped in it. “It’s... it’s okay now. You’re safe. They’re taking care of you.”

My mind felt foggy, pieces of the night slipping in and out like shattered glass. The fight, the blood, his face—so many flashes of pain and confusion, too quick for me to catch them all. But I didn’t want to let it slip away without understanding. I needed to know what happened after.

“Javi...” My voice trembled, and I forced my eyes open a little more. I could see his face now, his eyes wide with exhaustion. His jaw was tight, like he was holding himself together. He was holding my hand so tightly, like I might slip away if he let go.

“Hey,” he whispered, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. “You scared the hell out of me, you know that?” His voice cracked at the end, and I could hear the emotion in it—raw and unfiltered.

“I... what happened?” I tried again, the fog still thick in my head, but the urgency in his eyes was enough to make me fight through the haze.

“Don’t worry about that now.” His voice was firm, but I could hear the worry creeping in. “The cops are handling it. You don’t need to think about anything else. You need to rest. Just... just breathe, okay?”

I wanted to ask more, but the effort to speak, to make sense of it all, felt too heavy. And when his hand tightened around mine, something in me gave in.

“I’m here,” he said, as though sensing my fear. “I didn’t leave you. I stayed, the whole time.”

I didn’t want to close my eyes, didn’t want to drift back into the fog of unconsciousness, but the pull of exhaustion was stronger than my will.

“You’re safe now,” Javier murmured, the relief in his voice as soft as the press of his fingers on my wrist. "Just... rest. Everything’s okay."

“Javi... I killed him,” I whispered, my voice barely audible as the weight of it sank in. The tears started to come, slowly at first, but then they came in waves, overwhelming me, shaking my entire body. I couldn’t control it anymore. I had taken someone’s life, and now I had to live with that.

Javier didn’t hesitate. He pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly, as if to shield me from everything. His voice was gentle but firm, reassuring in the way only he could be. “It’s okay. It’s okay, baby,” he murmured, his hand smoothing over my hair. “Don’t worry, you’re gonna be alright. You did what you had to do.”

But I couldn’t stop crying. The guilt, the fear, everything flooded over me, and I couldn’t breathe properly. I clung to him, trying to stop the tremors that shook through me. “I... I didn’t mean to... I didn’t want to.”

“I know. I know you didn’t. You did what you had to do to survive.” His grip on me tightened, his voice steady, grounding me even when everything felt like it was falling apart. “You’re still here, you’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

But it didn’t feel like it mattered. How could it? I had taken a life. My mind kept replaying the moment—the look on his face as I made that final move, the blood, the death. It all felt like it was closing in on me.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, choking on my words.

Javier pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, his expression soft, yet intense. “You don’t have to apologize. Not to me. Not to anyone.”

“I’ll never be the same,” I muttered, wiping my face on the sleeve of my hospital gown, but Javier just shook his head.

“You won’t be the same, but that doesn’t mean you’re broken. You’re strong. You’ve survived things most people couldn’t even imagine.” His words were firm, but the tenderness in his touch was what really got to me. “And you’re not alone, not now, not ever.”

I sniffled, trying to steady myself, but the weight of it all was still there, heavy in my chest. I couldn’t take it away. I couldn’t undo it.

“I’m here, okay?” Javier’s voice was low, almost a whisper, as if he was trying to calm both of us. “I’m not going anywhere. We’re in this together.”

And as I let his words sink in, I realized, for the first time in what felt like forever, that I wasn’t completely alone. That someone, someone who mattered, was there. Not to judge me, not to condemn me—but to help me heal.

Five month later

I unlocked my door and stepped inside, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee greeting me. The smell alone brought a sense of comfort, but what followed made my heart lighter.

“How did the meeting with your therapist go?” Javier’s voice floated in from the kitchen, warm and steady. A moment later, he appeared in front of me, holding a steaming mug in his hand. Before I could answer, he leaned in and kissed me, soft and lingering, like he had all the time in the world.

A smile tugged at my lips as I set my bag down. “It went well,” I said, meeting his gaze. “He told me this was my last appointment.”

Javier’s eyebrows lifted, and a grin spread across his face. “That’s amazing,” he said, setting the mug down on the counter. Without hesitation, he pulled me into his arms, holding me close.

I felt his lips press against my temple, and then he tightened his hold, resting his head on my shoulder. His warmth seeped into me, grounding me in a way nothing else could. “I’m proud of you,” he murmured against my neck.

For a moment, we just stood there, wrapped in each other, letting the quiet between us speak louder than any words could. This—this was peace, a far cry from the chaos that had nearly consumed me.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his brown eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite put into words. “You did this, not me. You’re the strongest person I know.”

The sincerity in his voice hit me hard, but instead of the weight I was used to carrying, it left me feeling lighter.

“You’re stuck with me now, you know that, right?” I said, a teasing smile playing on my lips.

He chuckled, pulling me closer again. “Good. That’s exactly where I want to be.”

His hands slid down my back, tracing the curve of my spine until they rested at my hips. I could feel the heat radiating off him, and suddenly, the air between us shifted. It wasn’t just comfort anymore. It was something deeper. More urgent.

I tilted my head up, catching his lips in another kiss. This one wasn’t soft or lingering. It was hungry. Desperate. Like we were both trying to say things we didn’t have words for. My hands reached up, threading through his hair as I pressed myself closer to him, feeling the firm planes of his chest against mine.

Javier groaned into the kiss, his fingers digging into my hips as he stepped forward, guiding me backward until the edge of the couch bumped against the backs of my knees. He broke the kiss just long enough to sit me down, his eyes never leaving mine as he knelt between my legs.

“I’ve missed this,” he murmured, his hands sliding up my thighs, teasingly slow. “Missed you.”

My breath hitched as his fingers brushed against the sensitive spot just above my knee, sending a shiver up my spine. “Javi…” I breathed, my voice shaky.

He smiled, that soft, gentle smile that always made my heart ache in the best way. Then he leaned in, capturing my lips in another searing kiss as his hands worked their way under my shirt, pushing it up until I had no choice but to pull it off completely.

The cool air hit my skin, making goosebumps rise along my arms, but Javier’s touch quickly chased them away. His hands roamed over my chest, brushing against my nipples, which were already hardening under his attention. I arched into his touch, a needy whine escaping my throat.

He laughed softly, the sound low and warm against my ear. “Patience,” he teased, his lips trailing down my neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he found the spot just below my collarbone, he sucked lightly, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to my core.

My nails dug into his shoulders as he continued to mark me, every bite and kiss driving me closer to the edge. “Javi,” I gasped, tugging at his shirt. “Take it off.”

He didn’t hesitate, yanking the fabric over his head and tossing it aside. His chest was a masterpiece of lean muscle and smooth skin, and I couldn’t resist running my hands over it, tracing a line in his stomach and the faint smattering of hair that led down to the waistband of his jeans.

Javier caught my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm before guiding it lower, until my fingers were brushing against the bulge in his pants. I could feel how hard he was already, and the thought of how much he wanted me sent a thrill through me.

I fumbled with the button of his jeans, my fingers trembling as I pulled them open. Javier helped me push them down, kicking them off along with his boxers, and then he was bare before me, fully exposed and achingly hard.

“Your turn,” he murmured, his hands sliding to the waistband of my pants. I lifted my hips, letting him strip me down until I was just as naked as he was.

He took a moment to just look at me, his eyes dark with desire, and then he was moving again, kissing me deeply as his hands explored every inch of me. When his fingers brushed against my entrance, I tensed instinctively, but Javier was patient. Always patient.

“Relax,” he whispered, his lips trailing down my neck as he circled my rim, applying just enough pressure to make me gasp. “I’ve got you.”

I nodded, letting my body melt into the couch as he prepared me with careful, deliberate strokes. He added lube, working it in slowly, stretching me bit by bit until I was whimpering beneath him, begging for more.

“Please,” I choked out, my nails digging into his back as his fingers curled inside me, hitting that perfect spot that made me see stars. “Javi, please…”

“Shh,” he soothed, pressing a kiss to my forehead as he removed his fingers and lined himself up. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

I nodded, biting my lip as he pushed in, inch by agonizing inch. The stretch burned, but it was a good burn, the kind that made my whole body tremble with need. When he was fully seated, he paused, giving me time to adjust, his hands stroking my sides gently.

“Okay?” he asked, his voice rough with restraint.

I nodded again, unable to form words as he began to move, his hips rolling in a slow, steady rhythm that drove me absolutely mad. Every thrust sent sparks racing through me, and I clung to him, my nails leaving crescent-shaped marks on his back as I tried to anchor myself.

Javier’s breathing grew ragged as he picked up the pace, his kisses becoming sloppier, more desperate. His hands gripped my hips, holding me steady as he fucked me with deep, powerful strokes that had me crying out with every movement.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, burying his face in my neck as his thrusts became more erratic. “So fucking good.”

“Javier,” I moaned, his name spilling from my lips like a prayer. He groaned in response, his hands tightening on my hips as he picked up the pace. Each stroke was deep and deliberate, hitting that spot inside me that had me seeing stars. His breathing grew ragged, his kisses becoming sloppier, more desperate.

I could feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter with every movement. My legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. The couch creaked beneath us, the sound joining the chorus of moans and gasps filling the room. Javier’s pace faltered, his rhythm growing uneven as he neared the edge.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice barely above a whisper. I obeyed, our eyes locking as he thrust into me one last time, hard and deep. A strangled cry escaped my lips as I came undone, waves of pleasure crashing over me. Javier followed soon after, his release hot and intense, punctuated by a guttural groan that sent a fresh thrill through me.

For a moment, neither of us moved, too lost in the aftermath to do anything but breathe. Then, slowly, Javier pulled out, collapsing beside me. He gathered me in his arms, holding me close as we both struggled to catch our breath.

“Fuck, I love you,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. I turned my head to look at him, my heart swelling at the warmth in his eyes.

But before I could respond, he rolled onto his back, pulling me on top of him. His hands slid down to my ass, squeezing lightly as he smirked up at me. “Round two?”

I laughed breathlessly, already feeling the heat building between us again. “You’re insatiable.”

Javier’s smirk deepened, his hands tightening on my hips as he flipped me over with a sudden, possessive ease. My stomach dropped for a moment, the world spinning until I felt the cool fabric beneath me again. My breath hitched as I planted my knees into the sofa seat, my hands gripping the pillow in front of me. Behind me, Javier’s warmth pressed close, his chest brushing against my back as he leaned over me. His lips found the nape of my neck, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses that sent shivers racing down my spine.

”You feel so good like this,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, almost primal. His hands slid down my sides, fingertips grazing my skin before settling firmly on my hips. I could feel him—hard and ready—pressing against me, and the anticipation coiled tight in my stomach.

“Javier…” I breathed, barely able to form his name as he nudged against me, teasing but not yet giving in. My nails dug into the pillow, my body arching instinctively toward him.

He chuckled softly, his breath hot against my ear. ”You want it, don’t you? Tell me.” His voice was a dark rumble, sending a wave of heat through me. I nodded furiously, my voice catching in my throat.

“Please… Javier, please.”

His grip tightened, and I felt him shift, the head of his cock pressing against me, slick and insistent. He pushed in slowly, achingly so, letting me adjust to him. My breath came in sharp gasps as he filled me, inch by torturous inch, until he was fully sheathed inside me. I clenched around him, my body trembling at the stretch, the fullness, the way he seemed to reach every hidden part of me.

”Fuck, baby… you’re so tight,” he groaned, his fingers digging into my hips as he held still, letting me catch my breath. But soon, the stillness became unbearable. I rocked back slightly, urging him on, and he responded with a low growl, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in hard.

The gasp that escaped me was half-pain, half-pleasure, and Javier didn’t hold back after that. His rhythm was relentless, each thrust driving deeper, harder, until I was seeing stars. My cries were muffled into the pillow, but Javier’s growls and groans filled the air, raw and unfiltered.

His hand slipped under me, gripping my hip as he adjusted his angle, and suddenly, everything changed. His next thrust hit something deep inside me that made my entire body jolt, a strangled scream tearing from my throat.

”There it is,” Javier panted, his voice thick with satisfaction. ”That’s it, baby. Scream for me.”

And I did. Every thrust after that was aimed directly at that spot, overwhelming me with pleasure that bordered on pain. My knees trembled, my hands clawing at the sheets as I struggled to stay upright. Javier’s pace grew faster, more erratic, his own control slipping as he chased his release.

”You take me so well,” he grunted, one hand sliding up my back to grip my shoulder, holding me steady as he fucked me with a wild, unrestrained intensity. ”So fucking perfect… fuck, baby… say my name.”

“Javier!” I cried out, his name spilling from my lips like a prayer, a plea, a demand. “Javier, Javier—”

His movements stuttered, his rhythm faltering as he lost himself in the sound of his name on my tongue. ”Come for me,” he growled, his voice rough and desperate. ”I need to feel you come.”

It wasn’t even a choice. My body obeyed him without question, my orgasm crashing over me like a tidal wave, stealing my breath and wiping my thoughts clean. I screamed his name again, louder this time, my vision going white as pleasure exploded through me in waves. Javier groaned, his hips slamming into mine a few more times before he buried himself deep, his own release hitting him hard. His body shuddered above me, his grip on me tightening almost painfully as he came, his groan low and guttural against my ear.

For a long moment, we stayed like that, both of us trembling, struggling to catch our breaths. Slowly, Javier pulled out, collapsing beside me and pulling me into his arms. His hand stroked my hair gently, his lips pressing soft kisses to my temple as we lay there, tangled together.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, tender.

I nodded, leaning into him, savoring the warmth of his body against mine. “Yeah, I am. I’m feeling amazing,” I replied, letting a small smile curl on my lips.

Javi looked at me with an expression I could only describe as pure adoration, then pulled me even closer, wrapping his arms tightly around me. As we sank onto the couch together, his embrace felt like the safest place in the world.

“You’re really okay?” he asked again, his lips brushing against my hair as he spoke.

“I am,” I assured him, resting my head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, soothing.

He kissed the top of my head, letting out a satisfied hum. “Good. You deserve to feel this way.”

We stayed like that for a while, tangled up in each other, the world outside feeling like a distant memory.

After a few moments, he broke the silence. “Will you open the coffee shop for the evening?”

I tilted my head up to look at him, raising a brow. “Yeah, I will. Why?”

“Good,” he said with a small smirk, his hand brushing my cheek. “I like watching you make coffee.”

I chuckled, rolling my eyes playfully. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he replied with a grin, leaning in and pressing a kiss to my lips. It was soft and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. When he pulled back, he added, “But you’re stuck with me.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I said, snuggling back into his arms, feeling a sense of calm I hadn’t felt in what felt like forever.

For the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

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[territorial-utopia]

Looking For More GT Fans!

Hello there! I’m Sapphic ( @sapphicslaylist ) and I’m looking to introduce some of my work to the GT Community. While I’m not as actively a part of it right now, the tropes are near and dear to me as literary devices and am well familiar with the lore and development of The Borrowers, The Littles, and other varieties of tiny people from childhood. So I figured I’d toss my hat into the ring! My main contribution at present is On Borrowed Paths, which is a Slay The Princess Borrower AU with intensive, high fantasy worldbuilding. https://archiveofourown.org/works/58441462/chapters/148865548 (Note: due to the fandom, this is a much darker world than many GT Stories, but maintains the tenants of wholesome GT content in the midst of chaos and angst). I hadn’t seen much art and fics which covered Borrower trauma recovery and circumstantial trust, and wanted to expand into that category a bit more. Hopefully this appeals to some people and look forward to seeing some folks around! (I also occasionally do art which I’ll post on the blog when I can as well!)

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 47

. . . 

Okay so i’m gonna level with you here. I think i’ve been underselling the degree of brainrot this ship was giving me. Like sure, drawing 100 fucking days worth of art and then some is pretty brainrotted, but I really don’t think that gets the point across.

This, and technically the last piece (which I now have thoughts on, because comedy) are the very first times I have EVER drawn Angsty Shipping art. If you’ve seen me draw Angsty Ship art (which i’m certain I haven’t done outside of this ship, but I also have a very bad memory), it was after I made this. 

I’ve lived a life basking in fluffy romantic content, I would occasionally read Hurt/Comfort fics, but never pure hurt fics. And still I would almost always gravitate more towards fluff. And this of course reflects in my art, for as long as I have drawn art of girls kissing, it has always been cozy, wonderful fluff. 

And then Junkan happened. And slowly, slowly it was chipping at my mind without me realizing, and then something fuckin snapped in my brain. And then I drew this, an angsty Junkan comic. Is it any good??? That’s for you to fuckin decide, me personally I’m still happy with it but I also have very little to work off in my repertoire to say whether I know what the fuck I’m doing or not. 

I don’t know if I had a full concept in mind for what was going on in Junko’s mind when I drew that pic. But what eventually came to me was the idea of Junko having to grapple with one of the aspects of feeling love that I imagine she wouldn’t be geared up. In the very first Junkan pic, which I don’t consider angst personally, I talked about how I liked the idea of Junko being scared of feeling love, I didn’t elaborate on it too much since I was still getting used to writing these posts. 

I think Day 46 makes for a great example of that. 

The thought process I had was that Junko having just come to feel real romantic feelings for Mikan, would have to realize she could at any point lose Mikan, and just having to contemplate that.

And this comic is the follow up, partially inspired by a desire to just depict Junko having a breakdown. I don’t know why I keep doing the role reversal for this ship, first it’s Vampire Mikan, now it’s Mikan emotionally comforting Junko. What’s next, Mikan being taller than Junko???

Also here’s a fun fact, there is like, as far as I can remember, no actual art of Mikan having to be comforted by Junko in this project. I don’t know why I never fucking did that? Sorry Junko you’re the only one dealing with bullshit here I guess.

Also whether the comic itself is of any actual quality or merit here, I’m still at the bare minimum very proud of Junko’s expressions in this. Like i’m actually jealous of my past self because I’m not sure how well I could recreate these kinds of emotions visually if I tried again. 

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[five-and-dimes]

I saw you don’t mind multiple asks on the same thing so here I am shamelessly begging for more of Dead Hearts❤️‍🔥🪦

You are correct! I'm using these asks to bully myself into actually working on these wips, so the more you send, the more I simply MUST work on them ;P

For example, this fic now has an opening scene thanks to you lol

If you had asked Hob thirty seconds earlier, he would have said that he didn’t believe in love at first sight. Even with Eleanor- who Hob still considered the love of his life, even four fears after her passing- it had taken time for them to even properly like each other, let alone declare their love. Their relationship had taken work, and it had been more than worth it, but it had certainly solidified Hob’s belief that ‘love at first sight’ was a myth best reserved for movies and romance novels. But that was thirty seconds ago. That was before he had glanced around the crowded pub and laid eyes on the most stunning man he’d ever seen. Even in the dim lighting his pale skin seemed to glow, accented by his fitted black clothes, and his hair was an artful mess that Hob wanted to run his fingers through. He was sitting in the far corner, probably the quietest spot in the building, with a laptop open in front of him, slim fingers typing away and only pausing to occasionally take a sip from the wine glass beside him. There was a look of intensity in his eyes, laser focused on whatever he was working on, and Hob thought he would do terrible things to get those eyes to look at him like that. All at once, he wanted to know everything about this beautiful man. “I’m in love.” Johanna nearly choked on her drink, “Excuse me?” She raised an eyebrow at him, “Where did that come from? You’re not even seeing anyone,” she reminded him.  “I’m seeing someone now,” he sighed wistfully.  Following his gaze, Johanna gave the man across the room a once over, rolling her eyes as she looked back at Hob, “Oh lord, I know I’m the one who said you need to get laid, but can you at least be normal about it?”

“Absolutely not.” He stands and walks straight for the other man without a second glance at his friend. “Hey!” Johanna calls after him, offended. But Hob isn’t paying attention to her anymore.

[caustinen]

Loving your Hollywood Clegan AU so much!

Curious though...how do they transition when their relationship becomes public? Are there any issues with fan backlash? Or being an openly gay actor? What about the increased paparazzi attention or stalkerish fans? :O

Hello lovely person!! As usual this got a bit long but I hope it answers the question a bit at least 😂💘

To start off with, I usually reimagine my fics in worlds that don’t have homophobia because I personally don’t enjoy writing it/making it a plot point, there’s so much amazing art in all forms dealing with it that it doesn’t feel like trying to erase a very real problem/ignore it because obviously it unfortunately is a big part of queer experience for a lot of people, it’s just that I like to imagine worlds where that isn’t a factor just so there’s also places to escape that, esp in silly fanfiction that I write – that’s what I also enjoy to read as a queer person myself! So while it would definitely give this au a lot of depth, I’m at least not right now including that in these replies <3

As for the other stuff, I have not thought about it a lot even though these should be kinda the main questions for this au… So let’s think about it!

Paparazzi – John dislikes paparazzi as much as anyone but Gale despises them. He finds it a bit invasive but kind of a “part of the job” con for John and later their relationship in the public when it happens when arriving to/leaving events, but when he first catches someone taking his picture while leaving the gym or his office he gets very antsy. This creates some tensions for a bit as John understands his stress but also feels like they talked about it beforehand and now he can’t really do anything about it. When they’re out together and they spot paparazzi John always tries to block Gale from the sight, pull him behind himself or guide them some other way. They love to travel and it’s also easier to avoid being spotted when they’re away from LA/New York. It’s bad for the first few months but eventually the attention on them eases up a bit and they can go back to the new normal with only occasional encounters with the paparazzi; Gale also grows more accustomed to it and knows how to dress to and act to hide & make it a bit less intense.

Fan backlash – I think this would be an interesting thing to explore. Even though a lot of the fans are just happy for John, there are also some who have become too parasocial/illusioned about him after being fans for years (and he is a heartthrob and charming and widely accepted as “boyfriend material”) that they get upset when the relationship is revealed, starting to talk shit on social media about John never having been genuine and has only been lying to his fans meaning he never actually cared about them, and through that getting to insult his work and that they only went to see it because he’s hot but now it’s ruined. John was also shipped with a lot of his previous castmates and some shippers are also upset and saying he “setteled” for Gale who’s “just an ordinary office worker” when he could’ve had a flashy Hollywood Romance – while many see his fiancés shyness and soft-spokeness in public as adorable, some say he doesn’t match John’s vibe at all, and the fact that John also seems different with him is not a good thing and they start to psychoanalyze their relationship. John couldn’t care less for some angry comments on his insta but some of the hate is directed towards Gale, and he’s a bit taken aback when he starts to receive DM’s telling him to leave John immediately and accusing him of manipulating him into a relationship with “someone like him”. John is obviously very upset by all of this but Gale reminds him that he’s seen it all at work and can handle himself.

Stalkers – The other extreme of Gale haters would then be the people who get like way into him real fast, he’s beloved by the masses, sure, but these people are more like a cult (probably of the similar style of fan as the one’s who turn against John in the previous point, like highkey parasocial behavior but when John starts to date publicly it’s like “no, he’s OUR boyfriend” but not in a funny way you know). The line is blurred to some people what it means that John revealed he has a partner, it’s not a ”new part of him” but a real person of his own that happens to be dating their favorite actor, and this gets lost on some people who start to treat him almost like he was Bucky’s pet (idk if this makes any sense but like as if he was just a cute little thing he can post pics about and doesn’t really have an agency of their own AND the fans feel like they ”know him” when they actually know nothing about him except that he’s dating their idol). Gale’s not expecting to get any “fans” of his own, so he’s a bit weary when he’s asked to take pics with people without John or given stuff on red carpets etc, and especially when people really cross boundaries and try to gift him/them like condoma or sex toys or lingerie (I’m thinking of that one interview where they showed Austin his fan merch and there was the thong with his face on it and I’m thinking someone gifting a similar one of Bucky to him and him being absolutely horrified) or something else kinda projecting their own fantasies into them, or playing it off as a joke while it’s actually really distrurbing — just because they’re out doesn’t mean the relationship opened for other people to comment on. Then of course there’s just the usual internet hellhole-stuff, people start sending him really inappropriate messages about his body/looks/what they’d want to do to him given the chance that he maybe didn’t expect because he doesn’t believe John when he tells him that’s like notably attractive. I could also imagine for example a moment where someone approaches them when they’re leaving an event or something and Gale is being professional and polite but the other person is really overstaying their welcome/not following social cues but talking to him like a friend would and when John tries to politely lead them onwards the “fan” grabs Gale’s arm or something and it causes a small scene. Gale is stressed in these situations mostly because he fears how they’ll reflect on John’s image if he’s presented as being rude to fans but luckily these are rare occasions.

Despite all of this, they both are happy that the relationship is public, there are more pros than cons for being able to build their future together without having to be each others dirty little secrets (idk why but it came to my mind now that Gale is so the type that since he couldn’t always tell people he had a partner, everyone would either hit on him or try to match him with someone because “how is someone that pretty single?!” and this would annoy the hell out of Bucky despite him being the one with millions of options at any given moment, i like some jealous bucky :D)

Hope this was satisfactory!! Any more ideas to these scenarios? I’m so used to doing just fluff/smut so this was a fun challenge, thank you! <3

[dizzyrobinsims]

Whooo boy I’m kinda sad. I’m having to block the MelJay tag on multiple social media sites now because 90% of what crosses my dash gets hateful to JayVik. It’s WILD.

Like I’ve been an early complainer about how people treat Mel in JayVik spaces but I can most of the time enjoy JayVik works without Mel slander or MelJay or MelJayVik slander being present.

If the MelJay art or edit or something isn’t flat out wild about Viktor (in ways that I’ve seen get wildly homophobic, ableist, and even some that are racist regarding the use of anti-eastern-European/slavic imagery- and in a way that even I, someone who is just marginally aware of that stuff due to paying attention to WWII propaganda imagies in history, *reeled back from in shock* because wtf???? I gotta admit I did not predict that, like, we really reaching for some out of left field ways to be bigoted here), then it gets wild in the comments with bashing the JayVik ship.

Meanwhile I really do have to go searching for comments bashing MelJay in JayVik posts. Usually the issues I find are more subtle in some comics or characterization of Mel in some fics. Outside of the occasional really bad take demonizing her but that’s like… 1/20 fics I’ve read and less in terms of takes I’ve seen. It happens, but in low enough frequency I can block the individual and still enjoy the tag.

Like the fact I am now needing to block an entire tag of a ship I enjoy and would love to see stuff of because it gets toxic enough of another ship I enjoy is insane, ngl. This has never happened before.