#pretty perfect tags deserve to stick around

[icedbatik]

I felt the need to keep all the previous tags:

#alright watch this:

#top left EK

#top middle emil bemstrom (youngest guy on our team)

#top right real adult bryan rust about to go to work and save this team from itself

#middle left Geno When It's Below 55

#middle middle KL58 finding his wife's old wonder woman costume

#middle right Todd Reirden trying to fix the power play

#bottom left POJ going through kris's closet to decide what to wear today (and he WILL make it more fashionable by doing so)

#bottom middle lars eller contemplating his fate (cursed to be on the pens)

#bottom right: Snack Boy Sidney Crosby on the plane after stealing 2 peanut butter cups 3 candy bars 1 bag of popcorn and 5 protein bars

snoopy

[runninriot]

written for today's @steddieholidaydrabbles pop-up event ��️

Heat of the Moment

prompt: summer | wc: 1000 | rated: T | no cw | tags: Eddie has a crush on Steve, pining, Steve's 'stupid tiny swim shorts' deserve their own tag, (implied) friends to lovers | also on ao3

Eddie wipes a hand over the back of his neck, regrets it instantly when his palm comes back wet.

    Gross.

His hair is sticking to his forehead and no matter how little he moves, his body betrays him, wants to drown him in sweat.

It’s too fucking hot.

And Steve isn’t helping. He’s the reason for a different kind of heat wave just by lying there in these stupid tiny swim shorts, no shirt. Unfairly fucking beautiful, even in this unbearable heat, just blissfully existing.

Eddie is going to melt into a puddle on the floor if he doesn’t stop staring at him. If he doesn’t stop following the droplets running down his neck. He’d lick them right off, if he could. Would follow their trail down to where they collect in Steve’s glorious chest hair. Would swipe his tongue through the little rivulet that has formed in the groove between his abs, wouldn’t stop there.

    God.

It’s really not fair. How can someone look so good in this heat?

Steve always looks good. That’s why Eddie loves him. Or it’s one of the reasons. He has a thing for pretty boys, sue him! He wished it was different, too, but oh well.

The real tragedy is that Steve doesn’t know because he wouldn’t care – or worse. And Eddie really should stop staring if he wants to keep his little secret.

Steve is side-eyeing him when he stands up from where he was lying on his deck chair, his bronze skin covered in a sheer layer of sweat, glistening in the golden afternoon sun.

   “You good, Munson?”

Eddie swallows thickly, nods.

   “Want a beer?”

Another nod because Eddie doesn’t trust himself not to let out an embarrassing whimper if he dares to open his mouth.

Those shorts should be illegal.

It takes everything for Eddie to hold Steve’s gaze, to give him a polite smile in thanks for his offer, when his eyes are begging to drop down to where clingy fabric does shit all to hide Steve’s... form.

Steve thankfully seems unfazed by Eddie’s sudden inability to talk, just shrugs and walks inside, which – to Eddie’s blessing and misery – offers a whole other view that would send Eddie over the edge if he hadn’t at least one tiny bit of dignity left in him.

That. Ass.

    Jesus.

How is Eddie even allowed to exist in the same sphere as this perfection of a man?

And how is he supposed to ever get over his goddamn crush if Steve keeps inviting him over to spend time together, just the two of them, alone in this big ass house with no one around to save Eddie from his own dangerous mind, no one to keep him in check?

Had anyone told him he’d be spending the summer hanging around in Steve’s backyard, being served beer by the man himself, who’s walking around in these godforsaken shorts – Eddie would’ve laughed.

But now that it’s reality, all he can do is gawk and wonder and try not to lose his mind when Steve walks back out, two beers in one hand, the other outstretched to where Eddie is sitting.

   “Let’s sit by the pool, cool down a bit. Your face is so red, I don’t want you to have a heat stroke.”

    Oh god.

Eddie hesitantly takes Steve’s hand, lets himself be pulled up, hopes Steve doesn’t mind how sweaty his palm is. Hopes he doesn’t notice his staggered breathing, his trembling knees.

Maybe he does have a heat stroke? Maybe that’s the reason why he’s feeling a little dizzy right now.

Or maybe it’s the fact that Steve still hasn’t let go of his hand as he leads him to the pool.

Maybe, the fact that Steve is smiling at him brighter than the sun herself, is what’s making it harder to breathe.

They sit down on the edge of the pool, feet dangling in the refreshingly cool water. The bottle in his hand is cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of Steve’s hand he instantly misses, now that it’s gone.

   “Wanna go for a swim?”

The water is nice, perfect to cool down his overheated skin and mind.

Steve is just chilling there, both arms splayed out over the edge, his head tilted back, eyes closed; soaking his body in the water while enjoying the sun on his face. Just minding his own business, not even batting an eye at Eddie who’s awkwardly splashing around, watching the beautiful man from a safe distance.

A distance that’s keeping him from mindlessly swimming over to him, to cage him against the tiles with his arms on either side, one leg slotted between Steve’s, pressing his own wanting body up against the other man’s.

He wants to kiss him so bad.

It’s not the first time that thought hits him but it’s painful every time.

    Fucking hell.

Eddie closes his eyes, groans in frustration over his stupid heart’s stupid fluttering. What a waste of time and energy to pine after someone so far out of reach.

Eddie takes a deep breath before he dives down. Lets his body sink deeper into the pool until his toes reach the ground before he resurfaces with a loud gasp.

When he opens his eyes again, Steve is suddenly right there, right in front of him, smiling his pretty smile.

And then he reaches out, fingers playing with a rogue curl before tugging it back behind his ear.

Eddie feels like the water around him is boiling, feels too hot again now that Steve is so close.

So close, Eddie could easily reach out to pull him in and-

   “I want to kiss you.”

It is Steve who reveals Eddie’s secret back to him. It’s not a question; he’s stating a fact – unashamed and clear. No talking around it, no shy blush painting his cheeks.

Eddie feels brave, carried away by the heat of the moment.

   “Then what are you waiting for?”

[anantaru]

mhmhm i was wondering what kinks would blade have? :)

cw. blade kink analysis, fem! reader

dacryphilia

you're nothing but a tremble under blade's thrilling touch when he's this close to your skin, a hot sizzle of expectancy snatching the bubble inside your stomach and sputtering down towards your warm core, instantly surging your soul back into the current moment.

and the man certainly treasured indulging in the blurred perception of your eyes being stricken with pleasurable, warm tears, spamming one by one which only he was able to coax out of you.

you're so cute, ah, he cannot look at you enough, so easily to rile up that it almost pains his twitching cock, and a neediness takes over his thrusts and movements within seconds, the way his body would move on top of yours, exhilarating— as desire rolls through his rushed bloodstream when he watches the first out of many crystal bullets fizzle out, hand in hand with small, whispery begs that blade could sense vibrating against his soft lips when his tongue licks over your jawline.

"hmm?" sweetly nosing your face, blade smirks slyly at you, "you'll do anything for me?" and his voice was oozing with peevishness, tagged along by gentle utters of worship, admiring how you'd react to him in such filthy ways.

"yeah.." you whine out desperately, needful and without a single inch of shame crossing your body, pulling your sticked up frames together when you wrap your arms around him entirely, "just please, move again.." and your sneaky hands make their own expedition down towards his muscular back which was instantly tensing under your warm digits— the sharp edges of your nails rolling down his flesh and adding red stripes on top.

praise kink

blade gives you a long, meaningful gaze that energizes the warm air between your frames whenever you would praise him, where your boyfriend too, loved to tell you just how good you were being for him.

holding nothing back, it goes both ways for blade, while it's quite difficult for the man to accept the praises you show to him— the reasoning behind it being of a simple kind, because blade does not think nor believe he could be possibly deserving of any kind of love, not even from you, sometimes making it challenging.

but you're patient with him, understanding too, slowly sliding into the tent of his boxers when you look up at him, a sharp sigh of relief gripping his throat from inside and out when you push down on his erection at last, "you're so pretty." you announce proudly with a lowered voice, watching how his face changes expressions to your words, a faint perception of roses blossoming on top of his cheeks when he pulls his head down to kiss you, his hips nudging into your hand with little, needy pushes.

"don't say that." he scoots closer to you, and there was a faint quaver in his voice that you were able to catch, signalizing the nervousness that cannot stop traveling into his mind, "but you.." yet he stills his voice for a moment, the short silence comfortable as he moves one hand, igniting sparks when he pulls your shirt up to expose your chest to him, "you're the one being perfect for me."

how breath catching, and blade slides his lips from your collarbones to your awaiting tits, expertly twisting his mouth over one nipple while letting his hand travel down the curve of your body, sucking lightly on your breasts and pressing tight against you.

the brush of his rosy lips was ticklish and made you smile contently against him, until a scrape of his sharp teeth begin to shoot a stinging bolt of lightning arching down the entirety of your spine, something almost even more intense than his honeyed praises alone.

© 2023 anantaru  do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[fettuccin-e]

Forever Feels Good

A/N: So yeah. its more santi smut. I rewatched triple frontier recently and yknow how oscar and pedro look absolutely scrumpdiddlyumptious so i had to write some happy, domesticated santi because HE DESERVES SOMETHING GOOD

Description: Sometimes, Santi can't believe that he's actually yours, that you're his. And, as a good husband, he just wants to make his beautiful wife feel good. (w/c: 3.1K)

Tags: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x reader, afab!fem!reader, Santi really likes that she's his wife, pretty domestic, alcohol consumption, oral (r!recieving), unprotected piv (pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), breeding kink like quite a bit of breeding kink i may have a problem

Santi sometimes forgets that he’s actually married to you. That it’s his ring on your finger, that he lives in a home that the both of you share. 

There’s a part of him, a big part, that looks at you and knows that you’re too beautiful to really be his. With your bright smile and glittering eyes, smoothing out his rough edges and giving something to live for again. It doesn’t feel real, even after years of being married, introducing you as his wife to all of his coworkers and friends, fixing up a house you bought together, living a perfect little white picket fence life that Santi had only thought was a fantasy while in Delta.

He watches you with rapt attention across the bar, grabbing your fruity drink from the bartender while you chat with Frankie at the pool table.

You’re laughing hard to a story that Frankie is telling, Santi’s beer clutched in one of your hands while you brace the other on Frankie’s shoulder. Your cheeks are flushed, your eyes are crinkling at the corners with your grin, and Santi can’t imagine anyone more perfect. 

As your laughter eventually dies down you gaze at Santi across the room, probably unaware that he was already staring, and the breath is nearly knocked out of his lungs as your eyes meet. Your wide smile melts into something softer, intimate even in a room full of people, and his already weak knees want to give out.

He forces himself to walk on shaky legs across the room, setting your drink on your table, fingers itching to touch your soft skin. He spins you around when he reaches you, pinning your back to his front and wrapping his strong arms around your waist while he tucks his face into the crook of your neck.

Your perfume is strongest there, the smell of you invading his senses and swimming through his desperate mind. He vaguely senses Frankie walking away to talk to Will, but he couldn't care less at the moment. Not when he has his wife in his arms, your hair tickling his nose and you giggle echoing in his ears.

Santi presses a kiss to your neck, unable to help himself. “Look so pretty tonight, princesa. Y’wanna let me take you home?” he murmurs quietly into your ear, hearing you suck in a soft breath.

“I don’t know how my husband would feel about that, handsome,” you giggle, and he tugs you just a little bit closer.

“C’mon, baby, I’m sure he won’t mind one bit,” he chuckles lowly. “Can’t let a pretty thing like you go without being taken care of like you deserve.”

“Hm,” you sigh, leaning back against his strong body, “you drive a hard bargain, don’t you?” You reach a hand back to wind your hand into his hair, tugging him up to meet your lips in a sticky kiss. “Promise to take care of me, baby? I’ve been told that I can be greedy. Gonna need you to make me cum as many times as I want.”

Santi feels lightheaded, his vision blurring at the edges. “Fuck, hermosa, anything. Anything you want, you’ll get it, promise I’ll-”

“Hey, lovebirds!” you hear Benny call from the pool table, stick clutched in his hand. He’s disarmingly loud even in a room full of people, your head snaps ahead from Santi’s lips, and you can feel the groan rumble in your husband’s chest at the loss. You smirk to yourself involuntarily, pride blooming in your chest at the fact that you’re the one that can bring Santiago Garcia, ex-military grump with a will of fucking steel, to his knees with a something as simple as a little kiss. 

“You guys gonna get a room or what? Think of the kids!” Benny continues, laughing. Frankie chuckles with him, Will smacks him on the back of the head.

“Turning a little green there, Miller!” you fire back, smiling all the while. “Been a while since you got any? Celibacy is not a good look on you, man.” Frankie laughs harder at that, and even Will chuckles, and it’s Benny’s turn to smack his brother on the back of his head.

You turn your head again to whisper up into Santi’s ear, “As much as I hate to admit it, he might be right.” You shift your hips back, just a little, pressing your ass tight against the bulge of his dick in those tight pants he always wears. Santi curses. 

“You wanna get out of here handsome?”

“Please,” Santi groans, and you laugh softly at his eagerness before you’re grabbing his hand and walking him to the door of the bar, nodding a goodbye at Frankie as you do.

He’s on you the moment you walk through the door of your shared home, pressing you hard against the door with a thick thigh between your legs, pressed tight against your hot cunt through the material of your panties under your skirt. He licks into your mouth like he’s starving for it, like he’ll never get to again, like it’s not the cold metal of his ring on your finger, pressed against his cheek as you cup his jaw.

“So, so fucking pretty for me hermosa, my god. Got everyone in that bar looking at you, but you’re mine, yeah? My wife, fuck-” Santi says into your mouth, choking on the last word, bucking up into you. 

“Bed, Santi, please,” you whine, head spinning with the taste, the smell, the feel of him under your fingertips. Six years of marriage, and you’re both still obsessed with each other the same way you were when you both first met. Clutching into each other like the other will disappear at any moment, like every second together has only been a wonderful dream. He grins into your mouth before taking your hand again, breaking into a jog through your little house and into your bedroom, the both of you giggling like teenagers.

You make him feel young, Santi thinks, laughing into your mouth as he lays you gently onto the mattress. Even with his creaky knees and graying hair, you manage to make him feel young. He presses himself against you, and you mewl, your hips moving in desperate little grinds against the bulge in his jeans. 

“Santi, please,” you choke, gasping softly as his zipper catches on your clit through your panties. You’re clenching around nothing, suddenly so unbearably empty that you could cry from it.

Santi shushes you gently, running his hands under your shirt, rucking it up over your chest. You raise your arms to help him along, and Santi wastes no time in divesting you of your shirt. He tosses it behind him carelessly before leaning down again to lick into your mouth, utterly addicted to the taste of you. 

There’s something about Santi that brings out this part of you, this desperate, needy part that you’d never felt before knowing him. He makes you feel ravenous, animalistic as he towers over you, kissing you like a man possessed.

You reach down to grab his shirt in a fist, shoving it up his stomach until he finally smiles against your mouth, breaking away from your kiss to yank his shirt off, tossing it in the same direction he threw yours. He moves down, trailing hot, sticky kisses and bites to your neck, your collarbone, right between the valley of your tits. 

His thick hands curl around your back, his calluses scratching along your soft skin, raising goosebumps in their wake as he unclasps your bra, dragging it down your arms and leaving you bared to him. It should feel vulnerable, exposed, but you hear Santi groan softly under his breath at the sight of you, and you feel anything but vulnerable. Fuck, you feel powerful, stunning under Santi’s burning gaze.

He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue over it feverishly while his other hand, warm and rough, tweaks the other harshly. You can’t help how your back shoots up, how a choked moan escapes your throat. Your hands tangle in his hair, a terribly sexy mess of grey and black, holding him to your chest.

“Fuck, oh God, Santi, Santi, need you so bad baby, please. Please,” you mumble, your mind already hazy as Santi switches nipples, his eyes closed and lost in you. He brings his free hand down, down, under your skirt, and presses a thumb harshly over your clit through your panties. The friction of the cotton is harsh against your throbbing clit, but Santi rubs quick little circles into you, reveling in the whines that escape unbidden from the back of your throat.

“So fucking pretty, princesa. Mi amor, god, mi vida. You’re my fucking life, you know that? So gorgeous, angel, and all mine. Fuck, can’t believe you’re mine, baby.” Santi mumbles against your skin, finally releasing your nipple from his mouth. He continues peppering tiny kisses down your stomach, staring up at you as he does. His mouth doesn’t leave your skin even as he brings his hand up from your clothed cunt, tugging your skirt and panties down your legs. You can feel how soaked you’ve gotten, the way your thighs are slick with your arousal.

“Fuck, hermosa, what’s got you this wet, huh?” He grunts, his voice gravelly and rough.

“You, Santi, it’s all- it’s all you. Since the bar, baby, since before the bar. Fuck, always want you, Santiago, ‘m ready for you all the time.” You tilt your hips up with your words, your entrance throbbing and so desperate for his touch.

“God, bebita,” Santi groans. “Such a fucking slut, huh? You would’ve let me fuck you right in that bar, yeah? Just let me tug you into the bathroom and fuck you as hard as I want. Would've done it too, sweet girl, you get me so fucking hot. In these,” he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, and you twitch as you feel him breathe a warm gust of air right over your desperate pussy. “In these fucking little skirts you like to wear, god. Got the sexiest girl in the fucking world, yeah? Everyone wants you, but I’m the one who gets to have you. I get to have you for the rest of our lives, mi amor.” He’s so close, so fucking close to wear you need him most. “I get to fuck this sweet pussy for the rest of our lives, baby,” Santi breathes.

You nearly scream as he licks a long stripe up your cunt, lapping up some of the mess you’ve already made of yourself. He sucks your clit into his mouth, sucking at it hard and unrelenting. The sensation of it is almost too much, and your thighs clench around his head quickly, before Santi brings a hand up to grab at your inner thigh. He pulls you apart, keeping you spread for him as he licks and sucks and plays with you until you’re already shaking. He keeps you spread with only one of those strong hands, pressing his tongue harshly against your sensitive little clit, and you suddenly feel the thick presence of his other hand, a calloused digit sinking slowly, so slowly into your cunt.

“Santi, Santi, oh fuck, Jesus fucking Christ baby, it’s so- shit, it’s so,” you can hardly get the words out, especially as he crooks his finger up and presses it against your g-spot without any trouble. Santi groans against your clit, sinking yet another finger inside you along the first.

You should be used to it by now, after so long together, but every single time Santi fucks you, it’s like he’ll never get to do it again. He throws himself, his mind, body, his fucking soul, into only making you feel good. It’s nearly sacrilegious, how he worships you, praying with his tongue at the altar of your body.

But it’s not enough, not when you know how it feels when he’s inside, not when you’ve been thinking about his thick cock stretching you out until you feel like you’re about to break. You tangle a hand back into his hair, tugging him harshly away from your pussy. He keeps his fingers inside, spreading you apart as he looms over you, meeting your lips in a sticky kiss. His lips are sticky with your arousal, but you can’t bring yourself to care, gasping, “Please, baby, Santi fuck me, ‘m so empty, need to be filled up, need you to stuff me full.” 

Santi grins, smug against you as he presses a third finger into your tight cunt, relishing in how your body jerks hard in response. “Just a little longer, baby,” he mutters, “Gotta make you cum first, right? Wanna feel this pretty pussy clench around my fingers, fuck baby, you’re so sexy. Want you to cum, princesa. Cum like you fucking deserve.”

You choke on a gasp as he hammers hard into you, overwhelmed tears filling your eyes as he abuses your g-spot with a practiced hand. You can feel your orgasm building inside, threatening to drown you in it’s severity, as Santi leans down again, whispering harshly, like it’s a threat, “Be a good little wife for me, baby, and cum. Now.”

And you can’t do anything but that, whining high as your pussy clenches and gushes all over Santi’s hand, your hips jerking wildly. Santi is murmuring little praises into your ear, but you can hardly hear him over the ringing in your head, the effort it takes to breathe properly again. 

“You okay, mi amor? Need to stop?” Santi whispers, petting his hands across your thighs, calming, but your eyes snap open all the same. 

“Santiago Garcia, if you leave me here without getting fucked, I’m filing for divorce.”

Your statement shocks a quick laugh out of your husband, but he leans down to kiss you all the same. “So greedy, mi amor,” he murmurs into your mouth, and you giggle as he stands quickly, shucking his pants and boxers off before kneeling between your spread legs again.

You gasp softly as he notches the head of his cock against the entrance of your abused cunt, winding your arms around his neck to tug him close. He presses in slowly, agonizingly slow, and you gasp against his mouth. 

You’ve had Santi for years, but taking his cock always feels like the first time, all over again. He groans so lowly it almost sounds like a growl, holding your hips up to meet him as he finally bottoms out inside you. So deep he feels like he’s in your fucking stomach.

“Shit, baby, you’re so fucking wet,” he groans over you, his eyes clenched shut. He draws his hips out and shoves back in quickly, and you can’t do anything but gasp wetly, nails digging into his shoulders as he breaks you open around his cock. “So tight for me, always so fucking perfect.”

“So big, Santi,” you slur dazedly. “Stretching me out so good, it’s so fucking deep, baby.”

“You like me deep, bebita? So deep I’m in your fucking guts? Gonna fill you up, princesa, shit. Get through that fucking birth control, yeah? Get you,” he fucks into you again, hard, “get you fucking pregnant, sweetheart.”

“Oh God,” you whine, mind swimming with the overwhelming mixture of Santi over you, surrounding you, inside you. Fucking you full of him, enough to render your IUD useless, get you pregnant no matter what. “Fuck, Santi, please.” He works himself in and out of you, his thick hands holding onto your hips hard enough to bruise.

“You want it, baby? Want me to fuck a baby into this little pussy? Shit, you’re sucking me in baby, so fucking desperate for it.” He shifts closer, just a little, lifting your hips further into the air to throw you hard onto his cock, and he can’t miss your sweet spot like this. His perfect cockhead just jams into your g-spot at an angle like this, and Santi knows it. “My needy little wife, you wanna cum on this cock? C’mon, do it. Wanna see it baby.”

Tears are finally escaping, leaking slowly from your eyes as Santi fucks into you like only he can, practiced, harsh, unrelenting. You can faintly hear yourself babbling, a mixture of praises, and pleases, and Santi’s name. 

Santi brings a hand from your thigh to press a thick thumb to your over-sensitive clit, and you want to fucking scream. “C’mon baby, show me how good I’m giving you this cock. Show me how good I fuck this pretty pussy.”

“Yes, yes, yes, it’s so good, it’s so fucking good, gonna cum, oh god, gonna give you a baby, Santi, oh god, oh my fucking god-” you gasp, unable to get a full breath into your lungs before you’re cumming again, nails digging hard enough into Santi’s back that there will be marks, marks that Santi will tease you about later when he looks in the mirror, but you can’t care. Not when it feels like your body is on a live wire, muscles and nerves strung taught and pulled apart.

“Just like that, sweet girl,” Santi groans above you, his hips stuttering into you. “Fuck, just like that, so fucking tight for me. Fuck, you’re mine,” he mutters, barely even speaking to you at this point. “Can’t believe you’re fucking mine, mine forever.” 

He’s lost in it, muttering to himself, and you tug him down, trying to ground him back to Earth against your lips as you whisper, “yours.”

Santi kisses you hard as he cums, emptying himself inside you. He wraps you in his strong arms, the both of you shaking softly against each other as you breathe through the aftershock of both your orgasms. He slips out of you at one point, and Santi takes the opportunity to roll you onto your sides. It’s quiet between the both of you for a few minutes as you brush a hand through Santi’s sweaty curls, and he brushes a thumb over your cheek, wiping any tears away.

“Love you so much, Santi,” you whisper after a while, and Santi smiles wide, wider than he ever had before he met you.

“I love you too, baby, more than I can describe.”

“Do you- do you think we could start trying? For a baby?” you whisper, tentative. There will be a bigger discussion tomorrow, about the future, especially if you throw children into the mix. But you need to know, for now.

“Mi amor, mi cielito,” Santi whispers, pecking you softly on the lips. “I would love nothing more.”

[farfromstrange]

New Year's Day | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You recount your history with Matt and the highs and the lows of your relationship.

Warnings: Fluff, descriptive writing & lack of dialogue, mentions of blood, but this is mostly very tame

Word count: 2.5k

A/n: This One-Shot is dedicated to my bestie, @blackshadowswriter. I'm a bit late, and I'm sorry for that. It took me a bit to finish. I just want to tell you how much I love and appreciate you. I also know you love Taylor, so I thought "why not write a fic and use as many song references as possible? She's going to LOVE that!" You're my favorite person in the world and you deserve this. I love you. I'm all out of words because I'm anxious as hell about showing you this. It took me two days to finish. I wanted it to be as good as I could make it. I'm still not 100% sure, but I never am when it comes to giving gifts. I hope you like it <3 (This is also why I'm not tagging anyone else because this is a gift for my best friend and I intended it as such)

From the moment you bumped into him on the corner street of your favorite café, you knew that he was the kind of chance that would only come around once in a lifetime.

It wasn’t like you, at least not back then, to buy a stranger a coffee. And it was even less like you to give him your number afterward.

You had never been big on dating at that point in your life. You used to take things exactly the way they came to you, and dating never really seemed to fit into that narrative.

You preferred to lose yourself in your own world, a world where no one could touch or hurt you the way you’ve been hurt so many times in the past by people who claimed to care about you—people who claimed to love you, and in the process, you lost sight of the fact that there are still a handful of good people out there.

No one can blame you for thinking like that though. Your heart has been broken one too many times, and not just by broken relationships. 

Deep down, you craved to find someone capable of understanding all of you, not just the pretty parts. You almost felt pathetic for pretending you didn’t need it and still thinking that way.

But deep down, you craved to find someone who wouldn’t be afraid of sticking around, someone who would never leave you because life tends to get hard.

It seemed nearly impossible to find a person like that without breaking your own heart, so you decided to retreat into your shell. Better to keep your heart safe and protected than put yourself out there and be broken all over again, right?

Those stupid love songs on the radio and the endless romantic stories of your friends’ dating lives, however, fueled your need for the same kind of connection only a few songwriters know how to put into words.

You wanted to fall in love, find the right person, and heal. You wanted to figure out why love wasn’t like the burning red of sex and passion but golden, like daylight. A love living for. A love fighting for.

You felt so stupid, secretly pining for an innocent childhood dream that eventually got crushed after years of heartbreak, but that is what happens when someone becomes chronically lonely. You turned to daydreaming because at least in your head, your life could be perfect. Not just good, not just livable, but filled with love and happiness.

Truth be told, when you’re your own worst enemy and have an inner saboteur set out to destroy everything that could be remotely good for you because you truly believe you don’t deserve it, it’s hard to allow yourself to be open. So perhaps that is why you chose to lock yourself away and live in delusion instead. Not facing reality became standard procedure in your way of life.

You tried blaming it on your past, your broken relationships, and disappointments, and while that played a big part in your trauma, you also slowly started to realize that you might have been hurting yourself so you wouldn’t have to open up ever again.

In an attempt to erase all the problems, you became the problem. You became your worst enemy, someone chasing ghosts that stayed long in the past and only came back to haunt the living shit out of you. But that’s a survivable condition. 

You tried therapy, you tried turning your life around and starting anew, and while that helped you find a job you love, find a nice group of friends, and make peace with what’s been broken, nothing else seemed to change. 

You had barely started putting yourself back together again when you bumped into him. You were late for a meeting, so your focus was on your phone instead of the street before you.

It was your fault. He was just trying to make his way over the sidewalk, his cane tapping in a steady rhythm to make his way forward, and you stepped right in the middle of it. 

You remember him grabbing your arm, catching you before you could fall. He wasn’t even irritated. When you looked up in shame, seeing the red glasses and the came, you begged for the floor to open up and swallow you whole. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I wasn’t looking. Are you okay?”

But before you could go on a rant about your stupidity, he cut you off, and in the silkiest voice possible, he said, “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. Are you?” 

“What?”

“Are you okay? You seem in a bit of a rush. Don’t want you to accidentally bump into a car next.” He chuckled, adjusting his glasses. Blood rushed to his cheeks. “That was a bad joke, sorry.”

You just about melted. “It’s okay,” you found yourself chuckling. “And so am I. I was too focused on my phone. That was my fault.”

“Don’t blame yourself. It happens,” he said. He was so calm about it, unlike other New Yorkers you’ve met before.

Maybe the fact that you found him extraordinarily attractive and easy to be around compelled you to ask if you could buy him a cup of coffee to make up for bumping into him, completely abandoning your plans to make it to your work meeting five minutes late.

He introduced himself as Matthew. A lawyer. Not one of those rich defense attorneys who simply do it for the money. No, he does it to help people, and you fell for him right then and there. 

Maybe it was fate, maybe it was destiny, or maybe it was just dumb luck, but that day, when you got home after work, his number in your phone and a stupidly giddy smile on your flushed face, you knew that you’d somehow been enchanted to meet him. 

You never believed in love at first sight until you bumped into Matt Murdock, but the second you did, your life flipped upside down and changed in ways you could have never predicted. 

It is possible that the song playing over the speakers in the café right before you bumped him played a part in how you perceived the interaction. You’ve never been one to believe in coincidences. Nothing is ever accidental, and neither was your meeting. It couldn’t have been. 

You found each other when you needed someone, anyone, both of you, and it stuck. Thankfully, it did. 

Summer that year was cruel with New York drowning in an excruciating heatwave. You’d been meeting up with Matt for a couple of weeks, but you didn’t have it in you to put a label on whatever delicate thing was starting to build between the two of you. You didn’t want to wrap your hand around it and accidentally shatter something you could see growing into something more in the future. 

He was unlike anyone you’d met before, and he treated you in a way that made you believe, finally, that you are worthy of love. Not just giving but receiving because Matt himself struggled to see his worth after years of being disappointed and being there for everyone but himself. 

Love is a fragile thing though, and you have never been quite good with fragile things.

After a night of drinking away your sorrows at a nearby bar, you made your way to his apartment. You took a cab, too wasted to find your way there by yourself. You remember that you were crying; you were miserable and loathing yourself for several reasons that didn’t even make sense to you then.

When you arrived there, you knocked on his door. You didn’t get an answer. Just as you started to turn around and make your way back outside, you could hear a thud from the other side of the door. Panic settled in. You didn’t even hesitate before you opened the door, which was surprisingly unlocked, and made your way into the dark interior of his apartment. 

Finding your blind, catholic not-boyfriend in a pool of his own blood, wearing a leather-clad suit with the horns of the devil had not been on your to-do list until that night. Reality hit you just as fast and knocked sobriety back into your senses as the adrenaline started to take over. 

He let out a grunt. Your name passed his lips. He sounded so weak, so fragile, and you just stood there, your heart pumping too much blood for your body to handle. 

“What the fuck?!” you said. You didn’t yell, you didn’t snap, you simply didn’t know how to process this information. 

You were well aware of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen parading outside at night, beating up criminals and giving them a good fright—Matt did not fit the picture you had of the guy until you saw him lying there, obviously injured. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” he said hoarsely. He tried to roll over, but the pain turned out to be too severe. 

Needless to say, he passed out on you without a proper explanation, and you somehow had to use what little you could remember from first-aid to help this bleeding mess of a man. You feared that you would lose him that night, and that was when you realized that, on top of falling for him, you didn’t care who he was, you only needed him to live.

When he woke up to you hovering over him, he groaned. “I’m sorry,” was all he said. “I’d understand if–”

“Don’t talk,” you cut him off with a finger on his lips. You wouldn’t let him push you away. Not after everything you’d been through.

He tried to sit up. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“It’s not exactly something you lead with on a first date. I get it. What I don’t get…”

“I didn’t lie,” it was his turn to cut you off. You remember looking up at him, and you heard him out. You had to. In your mind, there is an explanation for everything, and you were once again proven right at that moment.

He bared his life story to you, how he survived through tragedies no human should ever have to face. How he turned blind, how his senses heightened, and how he lost the one person he could always count on. When his father died, something changed in Matt. He tried to go straight, to do his father proud, but he couldn’t ignore this desperate need for justice forever. He felt cursed. So, he became someone who could make a difference, and not just as a lawyer.

He expected you to walk out, but you didn’t. You saw him for who he was, and you accepted him.

“I think I’m falling for you, and it scares the hell out of me,” you blurted out that night.

He stared at you, his unfocused eyes bewildered, his lips moving soundlessly as he tried to find an answer.

Just when you thought he would break your heart after putting your trust in him, he let out a shaky sigh and he kissed you.

He wasn’t ready to say it back just yet, but he spoke to you through actions that made you feel confident in what you were growing again.

You somehow already knew back then that Matt Murdock would be the man you one day would marry and spend the rest of your life with. 

The truth is, you two have been through a lot throughout your relationship. It hasn’t always been smooth sailing, but you would be lying if you said that it wasn’t worth it. 

From the moment you met him to the countless dates, sharing coffees over empty takeout containers, kissing in the rain, Daredevil, fighting over the beautiful women in his life that almost broke you, and fighting over his desperate need to push those away who only want what is good for him because he is own worst saboteur.

It all led you down a journey that turned out to be harder than expected and not at all the love story you envisioned, but it still turned out to be the best thing that has ever happened to you. He is the best thing that has ever happened to you. 

You used to run away from happiness out of fear of getting hurt, and Matt did the same. He feared to admit it, but then he met you and he finally realized that running was of no use because you were more than ready to stick around through everything. Through every disaster and heartache—through every broken bone, you stuck around.

You saw something in him from the moment you met that no one can ever take away. You got a taste of heaven from the devil himself, and even though he was darker than the sunshine you wished for in your life, you managed to find a way to bring some light into his life. 

You are sunshine, even on your worst days, and he’s midnight rain. But you love the rain. You love him. 

Your first kiss happened in the rain. He took your hand and asked you to dance, and you did. You danced to the sound of the raindrops pattering against the asphalt beneath your feet, and it was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen—Matt engulfed in the soft moonlight, his hand in yours, and a big smile on his irresistible lips. 

You want more of those nights. Even the nights you’ve had to patch him up or hold him as he broke down from all the weight he often enough carries on his shoulders, you want more of those. You want all of them.

You want him and all the strings attached to him, no matter how painful because ever since he can remember, people have walked out on Matt and hurt him in ways you can only fathom. You don’t want to be that person. 

He opened up to you. He decided to be vulnerable. He stood with you through everything and fought for you when you thought you two wouldn’t last.

He gave you his best smile and his tears, and he laughed with you every night that you waited up for him to come home safely. He quickly became the moonlight to your sun—it is a different kind of light, but it is a light that sustains you nonetheless. 

You want all of his laughter and never miss it again. You want his smiles. You want his tears. You want to spend every waking second with him. You want to miss him and welcome him back home after an agonizingly long night of worrying. You want to cheer him up in court and be his lucky charm. You want to wear his initial on a chain around your neck, in Braille, because he got it for you on your birthday. 

“I know I don’t own you,” he said to you, “but I love you. And I know you. I want you to carry me close to your heart the same way I’ll always carry you close to mine.”

And his, you are. You’re no one else’s but his, and even if that sounds a bit territorial, you don’t care. You want all of it and more because it’s Matt you’re talking about, no one else. Not a stranger but the man you love so desperately it hurts sometimes.

All the girls he loved before don’t matter because he’s got you now. You forgave him more times than he probably deserved. You held on when he barely had any strength left. In return, he has shown the same kind of devotion to you time and time again. How can you ever say no to any of that when you are so in love? 

All those memories replay in sudden flashing sequences right in front of your inner eye. You love him more than anyone has ever loved him. You pulled him out of a very dark hole. You saved his life. And he saved yours. 

As he’s kneeling in front of you now, your hand in his and clutching the small, velvety box in his other, your life passes by before your eyes. Your life alone and your life together. You recount every memory in a millisecond, too shocked to even comprehend what is happening. But it is happening. 

Matt Murdock is kneeling on the floor before you, the glitter, confetti, and sticky champagne someone spilled earlier most likely leaving a stain on his good dress pants, but he remains unwavering in his decision to open that little box and show you what he’s been hiding for a while. 

It’s a diamond ring, something he probably took months to save up for. It’s small yet elegant, and it’s staring right at you. He’s taken his glasses off to try and do the same. You would marry him with paper rings, that much is true. 

Matt says your name oh-so-softly. “Will you marry me?” Four words that stop your heart and restart it at the same time. 

He sees right through you. You see right through him. Even in your worst times, you were there for each other, and now he’s asking you to spend the rest of your life with him. Together. To give him all of your days and nights and he will give you all of his in return. He is asking you the question you’ve been wondering if he would ever ask it, and he did. 

The fireworks go off in the distance, in your stomach, everywhere. The new year has rounded the corner. People are cheering and celebrating around you, but you don’t pay attention to them. 

The clock strikes midnight and with the softest smile, you say, “Yes.” You don’t need to tell him that you would do it a million times over because he knows. He knows your heartbeat, and he knows that you would never lie to him. 

He doesn’t waste time to pull you into his arms and kiss you softly, passionately, as if both of your lives depend on it. 

It’s a bit cliché, to get proposed to on New Year’s Eve. To start the new year with the man you love and a ring on your finger. But that only means that you will still be together on New Year’s Day, and all the days after that. 

Matt chose you. You chose Matt. You chose a life together that is as unpredictable as they come, but at least you have each other to hold onto. 

And he will never be just the stranger that you bumped into in front of your favorite corner café ever again. You have him now. Maybe that was your plan all along. Maybe you are the mastermind he knows that you are. None of it was accidental. 

And now, Matt Murdock is yours. Forever and always. 

[killmongerskeepermain]

Ghostface!Shuriri Headcanons

Surprise! Surprise! I got some headcanons for Ghostface!Shuriri for yall. Also I recreated a tag list so in case yall want to be tagged in anything, go ahead and fill out this form right here. ---> Taglist Form

Normal Lives

●👻● Outside her ghostface persona Riri is the perfect student. Still in college. 

●👻● Top of her class(of course), shows up on time, takes perfect notes, turns in work before the deadline, you name it. 

●👻● She doesn't mind doing work for her classmates. You want her to do your homework for you? It'll cost ya. (Her prices ain't cheap.)

●👻● Straight sneakerhead. Will make sure every outfit is tied together by the shoe.

●👻● Loves to go clubbing. Usually ends up with her finding a girl for her and Shuri for fuck around with if they're bored.

●👻● Despite her usually sticking to herself, no one truly has a problem with her. (If they do, RIP.)

●👻● Will talk her shit. Super sassy. Doesn't matter who you are or where ya live. Her slick mouth usually gets her in trouble. But ain't nobody gone jump with her partner a couple feet behind her.

●👻● Speaking of the partner, Shuri is the one who stays out of the limelight. 

●👻● She got away from Wakanda after T'Challa's passing. She believed he could be saved but that no one was trying hard enough. She dropped her duties as princess and went completely off the grid.

●👻● She spends most of her time in the lab under the house. Making new weapons, traps, home defenses. (She's still one of the smartest people on earth.) 

●👻● Also a sneakerhead. She's the one who likes to match shoes on a date.

●👻● Only goes clubbing so she doesn't have to hear Riri beg over and over again. 

●👻● Riri may be sassy but Shuri is MEAN. She does not give two fucks if she hurts your feelings. If you can't handle what she has to say then don't even look in her direction. 

●👻● If Riri has a problem with someone, so does Shuri. They're a package deal at this point. But if you're cool then you shouldn't have to worry about anything happening to you.

👻👻 "You know you was supposed to cash app me yesterday." Riri held a look of annoyance on her face as the football player fidgeted with his jacket. "Ah shit I forgot, $600 right?" She gave a small grin as she shook her head. "Nah, that was yesterday's price. It doubled since you forgot." His face fell and he bent down to mumble so his friends wouldn't hear. "$1200 is a little much don't you think?"

"Bet you won't forget again. I don't do this shit for free." She spat and he clenched his jaw. "What, are you gonna hit me pretty boy?" He steps closer to her before his eyes locked with another pair of brown orbs. "Is there a problem?" He quickly shook his head and sent Riri the money he owed before heading back to his friends. "I had it." The shorter girl grinned as she placed a kiss on Shuri's cheek. 

"Of course you did."

Behind The Mask

●👻● They don't just go around killing people for the hell of it. Their victims are usually people who did wrong by them or just don't deserve to live out their lives. Doing the world a favor.

●👻● Shuri uses a hunting knife with a sleek edge while Riri uses one with a ridged blade. 

●👻● Shuri is better when it comes to speed. She was training with her brother when he was alive. So if you manage to get away from Riri, you're not getting away from her. Loves the chase. Don't run. It only makes it more fun for her. "I love when they run."

●👻● Riri loves to play with their victims. Turns any chase into a game of cat and mouse. She also excels when it comes to stealth. She's the one who sneaks up on you when you're not looking. Can disappear in the blink of an eye. "Eyes on me ma."

●👻● Riri almost never has a messy kill. One clean cut is all it takes, hence her weapon of choice. Shuri on the other hand usually has some pent up aggression that she lets out during a kill. Not too much blood but just enough.

●👻● Won't let you see them in action. The only time was when you first met. But never again. The two agreed to keep everything ghostface related away from you. No matter how many times you ask. 

●👻● They did allow you to see them behind their ghostface personas only one time. The three of you drove to an abandoned building to show you how they hunt after endless begging. They even gave you a head start to run and hide. They made a bet on who would find you first with the loser making dinner. It didn't take long for Shuri to find you and to this day you and Riri wondered how she did it. 

👻👻 The only sound you heard was your own footsteps on the hard floor as you tried to be sneaky and find a good hiding spot. The building was long abandoned but still stood strong for a quick game of hide and seek. The two women gave you 10 minutes to hide and you had to admit your heart was racing. Quick, you say as you notice the cloak disappearing around the corner. You ducked under a nearby desk as one of them dragged into the room. You had a feeling it was Riri with how quiet they were. Even though they weren't going to hurt you, the thrill of it all sent jolts through your bones. When she left the room you took off down the hall with a wide grin. Time was almost up. Just before you could reach the doorway, a gloved hand grabbed your waist and you squealed. Looking up you saw Shuri take off her mask with a smirk. "How did you…..where did you come from!"

"What's the matter mamas? You look like you've seen a ghost."

When It Comes To You

●👻●Shuri is somewhat touch starved. So anytime you hug her from behind or snuggle up to her it makes her heart flutter. She eats it up.

●👻● Riri on the other hand loves having her hands on you. Whether it's holding your hand, grabbing your waist, or having you in her lap. 

●👻● They never let you go somewhere alone. If Riri can't be with you, Shuri is going and vice versa.

●👻● Riri is really big on PDA. Loves leaving small kisses and hickeys everywhere. Especially when someone hits on you while she's there. Shuri isn't into PDA like that but will not hesitate to pull you into a sloppy kiss if someone is bothering you. If it makes the other guy uncomfortable then it was worth it. 

●👻● Shuri gets jealous easily when it comes to you and Riri. That's where that sloppy kiss comes into play. And when you blush and hide your face in her neck, she's glaring at whoever is trying to shoot their shot. Also super territorial.

●👻● When you're alone they love to shower you in affection. Shuri loves running her fingers through your hair while Riri leaves trails of kisses along your shoulder. CUDDLE PUDDLE!

●👻● They will pamper you every chance they get when you're all together. Hugs? Kisses? Cuddles? Sex? They'll take care of you and all your needs. They will give you everything and anything you ask for.

●👻● Shuri teaches you and Riri Xhosa. You've learned that catching her off guard when switching languages flips a switch in her head. 

●👻● You're untouchable. No one in their right mind is going to lay a finger on you without lethal consequences. You want someone taken care of? Just say the word and they're gone.

●👻● They will not under any circumstances let you tag along for a kill. They would never put you through witnessing something as vile as them killing someone. Never again.

●👻● You definitely play with the voice changer. They have different ones but at this point you know who is who when they try to freak you out. 

👻👻 You tiptoed around the house trying to find your two girlfriend's with the small box in your hand. You found them on the couch watching Friday the 13th and grinned at the sight. Riri was lying under Shuri who had her arm over the girl's shoulder. You brought the box up to your lips and clicked the button. "Cuddling without me? How disrespectful." The two looked back at you before their laughter filled the room. "Girl, put that shit down and get over here." You sat down the voice changer and moved to lay your head down in Shuri's lap and your legs on Riri's. Though of course she couldn't keep her hands to herself and ended up between them. 🤭

[lucky-clover-gazette]

kings rising highlights & annotations

chapter 9

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

The next morning, they had to sit next to each other.

me when i’m a high school junior and had a huge falling out with my best friend who i’m totally not in love with last night but we still have to coexist in ap english class

The joint thrones today were under a silk awning, raised to protect Laurent’s milkmaid skin from the sun.

BRUTAL

Lady Vannes murmuring into the ear of a new female pet

oooooh what happened to the old one? drama alert!!

A part of Damen acknowledged, a little guiltily, that Laurent probably hadn’t deserved to get thrown around the training arena as a result.

laurent would disagree

Nikandros said, without looking next to him, ‘Your uncle has wiped out half of our army with two hundred men.’ ‘And a belt,’ said Laurent.

nikandros private twitter vent #11. incoherent violent stick figure jpegs

Damen said, ‘At least someone else has a chance to win at javelin.’

i understand that people like sports and it’s a fun thing to add to a pretty serious story but i am the buzzkill here and ugh. sports

In the stands, slaves rhythmically raised and lowered fans and brought shallow cups of wine that everyone drank except Laurent.

me getting ginger beer at the bar yesterday while the dude i was with drank an espresso martini and two whiskeys

He came forward naked, as was the custom in Akielos.

i feel like violent dangerous sports are a really good occasion to wear MORE clothing, but go off i guess

The two men scooped oil from the receptacle brought to them by the stewards, anointed their bodies with it, then they slung their arms around one another’s shoulders, and, on the signal, heaved. The crowd cheered, the men grappled, their bodies straining against each other in slippery hold after slippery hold, until Pallas finally had Elon panting, on the grass, the sounds an eruption from the crowd.

this is like the not-evil twin of the veretian court wrestling

Damen rose from the throne, and put his hand to the gold brooch at his shoulder. His garment dropped and the crowd roared its approval.

you know, damen’s lack of freaking out about some of the indignities of the veretian court make more sense now

‘Good fight,’ he said, taking his place again on the throne beside Laurent. He waved over some wine. ‘What is it?’ ‘Nothing,’ said Laurent, and found somewhere else to put his eyes.

hang in there buddy

‘What can we expect next? I really feel,’ said Vannes, ‘it might be anything.’

i love the slight disdain here

‘Who did this to you?’ ‘I did,’ Laurent said. Damen turned. Laurent stood in the entryway of the tent. He was arranged with elegant grace and his lazy, blue-eyed attention was all on Nikandros. Laurent said, ‘I meant to kill him, but my uncle wouldn’t let me.’ Nikandros took an impotent step forward but Damen already had a restraining hand on his arm. Nikandros’s hand had gone to the hilt of his sword. His eyes were on Laurent furiously. Laurent said, ‘He sucked my cock too.’ Nikandros said, ‘Exalted, I beg permission to challenge the Prince of Vere to a duel of honour for the insult that he has done to you.’ ‘Denied,’ said Damen. ‘You see?’ said Laurent. ‘He has forgiven me for the small matter of the whip. I have forgiven him for the small matter of killing my brother. All praise the alliance.’ ‘You flayed the skin from his back.’ ‘Not personally. I just watched while I had my man do it.’ Laurent said it with a fronded, long-lashed gaze. Nikandros looked physically sick with the effort of repressing his anger. ‘How many lashes was it? Fifty? One hundred? He might have died!’ Laurent said, ‘Yes, that was the idea.’

LAMEN HR COMPLAINT #8

god i FUCKING love this little confrontation. i appreciate how we can start easing into some more comedy with these specific characters, because nobody here is like actively enslaved or abused. they’re all on even footing, so shots can be fired for fun, and can be read as such. the analysis here, in short, is that damen and laurent are both insane about each other and nikandros just has to deal with it. laurent thinks it’s amusing to mess with nikandros, and to a lesser degree damen. and damen tolerates it because he knows laurent behind his performative cruelty, but can’t possibly explain that to nikandros. regardless, laurent has immunity from damen, which means he also has immunity from nikandros.

this is also a good way to show how both damen and laurent have started “settling” the matters of damen killing auguste and laurent punishing him in vere, since the last scene where both subjects were heavily referenced.

Angry as he was, Nikandros wouldn’t disobey a direct order. His training was too deeply ingrained.

i like this subtle moment. damen grew up in the same culture, yet one of his main Things in this series has always been disobeying orders he disagrees with. built different!

‘Why would you do that? He’ll defect.’ ‘He’s not going to defect. He is your most loyal servant.’ ‘So you push him to breaking point?’ ‘Should I have told him I didn’t enjoy it?’ said Laurent. ‘But I did enjoy it. I liked it most near the end, when you broke down.’

laurent calculated and performative cruelty to protect himself from being vulnerable, you know the drill by now

‘You didn’t have to come here. You could have sent a messenger.’ In the pause that followed, Laurent’s gaze shifted involuntarily sideways. A strange prickling passing over his skin, Damen realised that Laurent was looking at the polished mirror behind him at the reflection of his scars. Their eyes met again. Laurent wasn’t often caught out, but a single glance had betrayed him. They both knew it. Damen felt the hard ache of it. ‘Admiring your handiwork?’

damen: i know you came here on purpose to spend time with me alone when you totally didn’t have to laurent: [very obviously checks out damen’s bare back, and not just for the symbolism reasons] damen: you want to look at me so bad (because you have an emotional attachment to the marks and you want to torture us both about it, and also because you think i’m hot. in both cases you’re the desperate one here, i win)

‘I’ll join you after I’ve dressed. Unless you want to step closer. You can help stick in the pin.’ ‘Do it yourself,’ said Laurent.

this sounds like their prince’s gambit-era antagonistic, vaguely horny, reluctantly fond banter. we’re getting somewhere!

The fever pitch of the crowd was bloodthirsty. The okton brought that out in them, the danger, the threat of maiming. The second of two targets was hammered onto its struts, and the attendants gave the all clear. In the heat of the day, anticipation was an insect buzz, rising to a commotion on the south-western side of the field.

this is such a fucking terrible idea you are in a WAR. damen you are going to be KING. why are you risking your life to play a sports right now. it would be like if the person about to cure a disease decided to play a game of bowling with a 80% survival rate right before they finished the vaccine

Damen heard the reaction of those around him. The Veretian Prince was, at a glance, Damen’s athletic inferior. Certainly, he avoided the training fields. No Akielon had ever seen him fight, or take exercise. He had not participated in any of today’s contests. He had done nothing more than sit, elegant and relaxed, as now. ‘Veretians do not train in the okton,’ said Damen. ‘In Akielos, the okton is known as the sport of kings,’ said Makedon. ‘Our own King will take the field. Does the Prince of Vere lack the courage to ride against him?’

makedon wants that twink obliterated

Damen waited for Laurent to sidestep, to evade, to find, somehow, the words to extricate himself from the situation. The flags fluttered loudly. The stands were silent, to a man. ‘Why not?’ said Laurent.

FSIUFHSDIUFHSDF i love laurent so much it’s unreal. this is the same response you’d give if a friend asked if you wanted to get takeout on a thursday night. “yeah, why not?” mr. “probably” laurent strikes again

Mounted, Damen faced the course, holding his horse ready at the starting line. His mount shifted, fractious, eager for the horn that would signal his start. Two horses down from his own, he could see Laurent’s bright head.

their horses who are canonically in love with each other get to do homoerotic sports too!!

But the true challenge of the okton was this: if you missed, your spear might kill your opponent. If your opponent missed, you were dead.

i was going to say “thankfully there are no real-life sports that sacrifice the physical well-being and possibly lives of eager-to-impress youths looking for glory and compensation” but then i remembered american college football exists

Laurent could also throw a spear. Probably.

probably.

But all of that meant nothing in the face of the okton. Men died during the okton. Men fell, men suffered permanent injury—from a spear; from hooves after a fall. Out of the corner of his eye, Damen could see the physicians, including Paschal, who waited on the sidelines, ready to patch and sew. There was a great deal at stake for the lives of the physicians, with royalty from two countries on the field. There was a great deal at stake for everyone.

not beating the american college football allegations

Damen could not aid Laurent in the contest.

he’ll kill one of his own people by throwing a sword across a clearing to save his captor in book 2, but he won’t use his kingly authority to say “hey guys maybe let’s not put both of the army’s leaders, one of whom is the love of my life and also my divorced husband, in the hunger games right now”

There was something intellectual in the way he assessed the field, and it set him apart from the other riders. For Laurent, physical pursuits were not instinctive, and for the first time it occurred to Damen to wonder if Laurent even enjoyed them. Laurent had been bookish as a boy, before he had re-formed himself.

“he should be at the (afterschool dungeons and dragons) club”

Laurent dealt with the danger of the okton by simply behaving as though it did not exist.

that tracks externally, but i also think that inside laurent’s brain he does acknowledge it, he just has a precise threshold of acceptable risk

Instinct reacted before thought. The spear was driving towards his chest; Damen caught it out of the air, his hand closing hard around the shaft, the momentum of it wrenching his shoulder back. He absorbed it, tightening his grip with his thighs to keep himself in the saddle.

this would be even more impressive if it was not the solution to a dangerous situation you ACTIVELY MADE HAPPEN

All his attention was on the other spear, flying towards Laurent. His heart jammed in his throat. On the other side of the course, Pallas was frozen. In that stricken moment of choice, Pallas could only decide whether to dodge and risk his cowardice killing a prince, or stand his ground and receive a spear to the throat. His fate was tied to Laurent’s, and unlike Damen, he had no recourse for what to do. Laurent knew it. Like Damen, Laurent had seen it early—had seen the strut collapse, had judged the outcome. In the handful of extra seconds that this afforded him, Laurent acted without hesitation. He released his reins—and as Damen watched, as the spear flew right for him—he jumped, not out of the way, but into the path of the spear, leaping from his horse to Pallas’s, dragging them both to the left. Pallas swayed, shocked, and Laurent bodily kept him down low in the saddle. The spear sailed past them and landed in the tufted grass like a javelin.

an akielion wouldn’t think to do THAT, would they!!

(also, love the little parallel to prince’s gambit, with damen ripping the grate out of the wall and laurent’s meticulous scheming. here it’s not as much a competition as it is a mutual/cooperative victory, with damen stopping the javelin mid-air and laurent intelligently evading the other one headed towards him)

The crowd went wild. Laurent ignored it. Laurent reached down and neatly filched Pallas’s last spear for himself. And, keeping Pallas’s horse at a gallop—as the sounds of the crowd swelled to a crescendo—he threw it, sending it flying right into the centre of the final target. Completing the okton one spear ahead of Pallas and of Damen, Laurent drew his horse up in a little circle, and met Damen’s gaze, his pale brows rising, as if to say, ‘Well?’ Damen grinned. He hefted the spear he had caught, and from where he was on the far side of the course, threw; let it go sailing over the full, impossible length of the field, to thunk into the target alongside Laurent’s spear, where it rested, quivering. Pandemonium.

they are both That Bitch. perfect for each other, and now everyone knows it (kinda) <3

After, they crowned each other with laurels.

cute

There was a warmth in his chest whenever he looked at Laurent. He didn’t look often for that reason.

Their men would ride out unified, and if there was a crack down the centre, no one knew about it. He and Laurent were good at pretending.

no they’re not. they’re just becoming more entertaining and endearing than annoying and frustrating, so people are more likely to listen to them

Laurent took his place on one of the lounging couches like he was born to it. Damen sat alongside him.

and all was right with the universe

The whole room went silent. Makedon and Laurent faced one another. The silence stretched out. ‘You have the mind of a snake,’ Makedon said. ‘You have the mind of an old bull,’ said Laurent. They stared at one another. After a long moment, Makedon waved at the slave, who came forward with a fat-bellied bottle of Akielon spirits and two shallow cups. ‘I will drink with you,’ said Makedon.

i love this unlikely friendship. laurent is being socialized like a feral kitten

Laurent glanced at the wine that the slave had poured, and Damen knew with absolute certainty that if it was wine, Laurent wasn’t going to drink. Damen braced himself for the moment when every scrap of goodwill that Laurent had garnered for himself was thrown away—as every tenet of Akielon hospitality was insulted, and Makedon swept forever out of the hall. Laurent picked up the cup in front of him, drained it, then returned it to the table. Makedon gave a slow nod of approval, lifted his own cup, downed it. And said, ‘Again.’

extremely loud airhorn goes off SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS

Later, when a great many overturned cups scattered the low table, Makedon leaned forward and told Laurent he must try griva, the drink from his own region, and Laurent downed it and said it tasted like swill, and Makedon said, ‘Ha, ha, true!’ Later, Makedon told the story of his first games, when Ephagin won the okton, and the bannermen grew misty-eyed, and everyone had another drink. Later, everyone roared when Laurent was able to balance three empty cups on top of each other, while Makedon’s cups fell over.

is this just what frat parties are like?

Laurent maintained a scrupulous posture until they were all gone, his eyes dilated, his cheeks slightly flushed. Damen spread his arm over the back of his own seat and waited. After a long moment, Laurent said, ‘I’m going to need some help standing up.’

i love that damen just Waited. he knew. he wanted laurent to admit it. they’re so funny

He wasn’t expecting to receive Laurent’s full weight, but he did, a warm arm slung around his neck, and he was suddenly breathless with the feeling of Laurent in his arms. His hands came up to steady Laurent’s waist, his heart behaving strangely. It was sweetly, impossibly illicit. He felt the ache in his chest. Damen said, ‘The Prince and I are retiring,’ and waved the lingering slaves out. ‘It’s this way,’ said Laurent. ‘Probably.’

‘Is today the first time you’ve been beaten in an okton?’ ‘Technically, it was a draw,’ said Damen. ‘Technically. I told you I was quite good at riding. I used to beat Auguste all the time when we raced at Chastillon. It took me until I was nine to realise he was letting me win. I just thought I had a very fast pony. You’re smiling.’ He was smiling.

drunk laurent happily telling damen about auguste :’) also the “you’re smiling” is so adorable, i love how we’re getting some dorky soft laurent finally. he contains multitudes. this, like, “suddenly aware that he’s being cute and appreciated for it, slightly indignant but also allowing it because it’s damen who thinks he’s cute” thing is wonderful and tbh i hope i can someday allow myself to be like that too :)

‘Am I talking too much? I can’t hold alcohol at all.’ ‘I can see that.’ ‘It’s my fault. I never drink. I should have realised I’d need to, with men like these, and made an effort to . . . build up some sort of tolerance . . .’ He was serious. ‘Is that how your mind works?’ said Damen. ‘And what do you mean, you never drink?

drunk laurent is so funny. and i love how damen is amused, endeared, and absolutely fascinated by the inner workings of this man. me too.

also, it's insane that laurent would ever ask if he's talking too much. taking too much is like his entire thing

side note: this is 100% how i am when i use any kind of mind-altering substances, like a sedative before a root canal. i remember detailing how i felt in my notes app at the time and then reading it later and being both impressed by the determination to remain incoherent and amused by the inserted notes of “why am i laughing” “why is everything funny”

You were drunk the first night I met you.’ ‘I made an exception,’ said Laurent, ‘that night. Two and a half bottles. I had to force myself to get it down. I thought it would be easier drunk.’ ‘You thought what would be easier?’ said Damen. ‘“What”?’ said Laurent. ‘You.’ Damen felt the hairs rise over his whole body. Laurent said it softly, and as though it was obvious, his blue eyes a little hazy, his arm still around Damen’s neck. They were gazing at one another, halted in the half-light of the passage. ‘My Akielon bed slave,’ said Laurent, ‘named for the man who killed my brother.’

“no shit, i got drunk”

It wasn’t unusual for two young men to wander the halls together, swaying, after a revel—even among princes—and Damen could pretend for a moment that they were what they seemed to be: brothers in arms. Friends.

you guys got publicly married-divorced and laurent told an entire army that you fucked each other multiple times. you wear matching arm cuffs. even your horses are in love. be so serious rn

The guards on either side of the entrance were too well trained to react to the presence of royalty leaning all over each other.

They Pretend They Do Not See It (not an HR complain bc they’re not really bothering anyone or breaking rules)

‘No one is to enter,’ Damen ordered the guards. He was aware of the implication—Damianos entering a bedchamber with a young man in his arms and ordering everyone out—and he ignored it. If Isander suddenly had a startling reason why the frigid Prince of Vere had foregone his services, so be it.

oh nooooo what a shame if isander backed off from your man, what an unintended and unfortunate consequence, oh nooooooo

Laurent, intensely private, would not want his household present while he dealt with the effects of a night’s worth of drinking.

just got a vision of laurent as heather chandler in the hangover/death scene. wearing that cunty little robe and talking shit

Laurent was going to wake with a blinding headache fuelling his corrosive tongue, and pity anyone who ran into him then. As for Damen, he was going to give Laurent a push in the small of his back and send him staggering the four steps to the bed. Damen unlooped Laurent’s arm from his neck, disengaged himself. Laurent took a step under his own power, and lifted a hand to his jacket, blinking. ‘Attend me,’ Laurent said, unthinkingly. ‘For old time’s sake?’ said Damen. It was a mistake to say that. He stepped forward and put his hands on the ties of Laurent’s jacket. He began to draw the ties from their moorings. He felt the curve of Laurent’s ribcage as the tie threaded through its eye. The jacket tangled at Laurent’s wrist. It took some effort to get it off, disordering Laurent’s shirt. Damen stopped, his hands still inside the jacket.

:)

Under the fine fabric of Laurent’s shirt, Paschal had bound Laurent’s shoulder to strengthen it. He saw it with a pang. It was something Laurent would not have let him see sober, a keen breach of privacy. He thought of sixteen spears thrown, with a constant effort of arm and shoulder, after rough exertion the day before.

fuck, that’s right. damn laurent

Damen took a step back, said: ‘Now you can say you were served by the King of Akielos.’ ‘I could say that anyway.’

he may be white girl wasted but he’s still our laurent

Lamp-lit, the room was filled with orange light, revealing its simple furnishings, the low chairs, the wall table with its bowl of fresh-picked fruit.

this time, the fruit basket guy just showed the kitchen staff a bunch of ao3 fics tagged “in vino veritas” and told them to make it work

Laurent was a different presence in his white undershirt.

makes him sound like a cryptid. blonde man jumpscare

They were gazing at each other.

we know.

‘I miss you,’ said Laurent. ‘I miss our conversations.’

he would not have admitted this under torture

(also, i really like how he misses their conversations first and foremost. laurent really does love damen for his mind and heart, more than anything else. damen is the same, but he's a lot more vocally into the other parts of laurent too)

It was too much. He remembered being strapped to the post and half killed; sober, Laurent had made the line very clear, and he was aware that he had crossed it, they both had.

damen is still afraid to potentially take advantage of laurent, especially because of what happened the first time laurent interpreted his advances in such a light (ow)

‘You’re drunk,’ said Damen. ‘You’re not yourself.’ He said, ‘I should take you to bed.’ ‘Then, take me,’ said Laurent.

Laurent lay where Damen put him, on his back in a half-open shirt, his hair tumbled, his expression unguarded. His knee was pushed out to the side, his breathing was slow as one in sleep, the thin fabric of his shirt lay against his skin, rising and falling with it. ‘You don’t like me like this?’

first thing, good for him. second thing, not good for him, because trauma, and the fact that he sees himself as a sexual object (i went a lot more into this during the chapter 7 re-analysis)

‘You’re really . . . not yourself.’ ‘Aren’t I?’

i do think damen means this as a “you could punish me for taking advantage,” but i also think there is the fact that damen doesn’t want a version of laurent who isn’t in his right mind (like slaves, who aren’t given the ability to have minds of their own). this calls back to the whole “you like it simple” thing in chapter 7, and it’s pretty satisfying to see damen prove laurent wrong!

‘I tried to kill you. I can’t seem to go through with it. You keep overturning all my plans.’

said with hearts in his eyes <3

Damen found a water pitcher and poured water into a shallow cup that he brought to the low table by Laurent’s bed. Then he emptied the fruit bowl of fruit and put it on the floor alongside, to be used as a drunk soldier might use an empty helmet.

THEY WORKED HARD ON THAT THEMATICALLY RELEVANT FRUIT BASKET >:( although perhaps this is its true thematic relevance? a means of damen helping laurent care for himself in recovery?

‘Laurent. Sleep it off. In the morning, you can punish us both. Or forget this ever happened. Or pretend to.’ He did all of this quite adeptly,

at least he’s getting more self-aware about his own blind spots, or at least his ability to have them

Laurent, falling through scattered thoughts into sleep, said, ‘Yes, uncle.’

i think this line honestly might have been a step too far. not necessarily because it’s a bad thing for laurent to say, i get that it makes sense for him to associate this kind of vulnerability with [redacted], and it’s even possible that laurent doesn’t drink now because the regent got him drunk before he [redacted].

why i think it miiiiiiight not work, is the fact that damen doesn’t oh fuck wait i JUST made note of a line where damen acknowledges how he can “quite adeptly” ignore things, literally a few sentences ago. i can’t even say he would have noticed, or made note of it, because that is his character. and the irony is like right there on the page. it’s frustrating to read, but it’s an intentional choice. well played as usual!

[adrealucia]

New Beginnings

tags: post Blood Brothers ending, Sean Diaz x Reader, might contain smut in future chapters, lots of fluff, romantic fluff, overall just fucking wholesome, obviously mentions Daniel quite often, sfw in the beginning, maybe nsfw in the future idk, definitely slow burn

chapter summary: a well-deserved day off at the beach, a movie night, and flirty banter hihi

Chapter five

The morning sun shines brightly, casting a warm, golden light over the small town. The storm's aftermath has brought clear skies and a gentle breeze, making it a perfect day to relax. Sean, Daniel, and you decide to take a well-deserved break at the beach right behind the Diaz house.

With beach towels, a cooler full of snacks, and plenty of sunscreen in hand, you make your way down the sandy path. The sound of waves crashing against the shore is soothing, and the salty sea breeze invigorates your senses.

“This was a great idea,” you say, glancing at Sean. “We all needed a day off.”

Sean grins, adjusting the strap of the cooler on his shoulder. “Yeah, it’s been a busy week. Time to unwind.”

Daniel runs ahead, his excitement palpable. “Come on, slowpokes! The water’s calling my name!” 

You laugh, picking up your pace to keep up with him. “Alright, alright, we’re coming!”

Sean spreads out the towels while Daniel dives straight into the waves, his laughter echoing across the shore. You sit down, pulling out a bottle of sunscreen. Slowly you begin to gently coat your arms and legs, but reaching for your back seems to be a bit difficult. 

“You need any help with that?” Sean asks, his tone casual but his eyes playful.

You bite your lip, a little nervous but mostly excited. “Actually, yeah. Could you get my back?”

“Of course,” he says, taking the sunscreen from your hand. You turn around, lifting your hair out of the way. His hands are warm as he applies the lotion, his touch firm but gentle.

As Sean works the sunscreen into your shoulders, his fingers start to massage the tense muscles. “Your shoulders are a bit tense,” he remarks, his voice low and soothing.

You laugh softly, feeling the tension melt away under his skilled touch. “I guess that’s what happens when you’re working hard.”

Sean’s hands linger, the massage turning into a slow, rhythmic kneading that sends pleasant shivers down your spine. “Well, you deserve a break. Just relax.”

You close your eyes, savoring the moment. “This feels amazing. Thank you.”

Sean chuckles softly, continuing the massage for a few more moments before finishing with the sunscreen. “There you go. All set.”

“Thanks,” you say, turning to face him. “I’ll get yours next.”

He smirks, handing you the bottle. “I’m all yours.”

You apply the sunscreen to Sean’s back, your fingers tracing the defined muscles under his skin. The closeness between you is electric, each touch filled with unspoken promises. When you’re done, you move to sit beside him on the towel, the sun warming your skin.

“Want to go for a swim?” you suggest, glancing at the sparkling water.

“Sure,” Sean agrees. “Race you to the water?”

“You’re on,” you say, jumping up and sprinting towards the waves.

Sean quickly catches up, his longer strides giving him an advantage. You both laugh as you splash into the water, the coolness a refreshing contrast to the hot sun. Daniel joins in, and soon the three of you are playing a lively game of catch with a beach ball, the carefree atmosphere infectious.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Sean comments, throwing the ball at you with a grin.

You catch it effortlessly. “What can I say? I have hidden talents.”

“Oh, really? What other talents are you hiding?” Sean teases, swimming closer.

You laugh, splashing him playfully. “Guess you’ll have to stick around and find out.”

Sean’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “I just might.”

After a while, you all retreat to the shore, panting and laughing. You lie down on the towels to dry off, the sun soothing your skin.

“This is perfect,” you say, closing your eyes and letting the warmth seep into your bones.

Sean lies next to you, propping himself up on one elbow. “Yeah, it really is. Sometimes you need to take a step back and just enjoy the moment.”

Daniel, still buzzing with energy, starts building a sandcastle nearby. You watch him for a while, admiring his creativity and enthusiasm.

“Hey, Sean,” you say, turning to face him. “Thanks for today. I really needed this.”

He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Me too. It’s nice to just relax and have fun.”

A comfortable silence falls between you as you both soak up the sun. After a while, you sit up and reach for the cooler, pulling out some snacks.

“Hungry?” you ask, offering Sean a sandwich.

“Starving,” he replies, taking it with a grateful nod. “Thanks.”

You eat together, the easy conversation flowing between bites. The chemistry between you and Sean is undeniable, the playful banter and shared smiles creating a bond that feels natural and strong.

“So, what’s next on the agenda?” you ask, lying back down and stretching out.

“Well,” Sean says, glancing over at Daniel’s sandcastle, “we could help Daniel build the ultimate sandcastle. Or we could just keep lounging here, soaking up the sun.”

“Both sound good to me,” you say, smiling.

Sean grins, his eyes sparkling. “How about we start with the sandcastle? I think Daniel could use some expert help.”

You laugh. “Alright, let’s do it.”

The three of you spend the rest of the afternoon building an elaborate sandcastle, complete with towers, moats, and even a drawbridge. Daniel’s imagination runs wild, and you and Sean happily follow his lead, adding your own creative touches.

“Check this out,” you say, molding a tiny seashell into one of the castle’s turrets. “A little decoration.”

Daniel beams. “That’s awesome! This is going to be the best sandcastle ever.”

Sean nods, clearly impressed. “Definitely. We should take a picture when it’s done.”

As the sun starts to set, casting a golden glow over the beach, you step back to admire your handiwork.

“Not bad,” Sean says, wiping the sand off his hands. “We make a pretty good team.”

“Definitely,” you agree, feeling a sense of accomplishment. “This was a great day.”

Daniel runs up, his face beaming with pride. “Thanks for helping, guys. This is the best sandcastle ever!”

“We’re glad you had fun,” Sean says, ruffling his brother’s hair. “Now, how about we head back and see if Mrs. Perez has any leftovers for dinner?”

“Sounds good to me,” you say, gathering up your things.

As you walk back to the Diaz house, the day’s memories fill you with a warm sense of belonging. The easy camaraderie with Sean and Daniel, the playful flirtation, and the shared moments of joy all contribute to a deepening bond that you cherish more with each passing day.

“We’re glad you had fun,” Sean says, ruffling his brother’s hair. “Now, how about we head back and cook something up together?”

“Sounds good to me,” you say, gathering up your things.

As you walk back to the Diaz house, the day’s memories fill you with a warm sense of belonging. The easy camaraderie with Sean and Daniel, the playful flirtation, and the shared moments of joy all contribute to a deepening bond that you cherish more with each passing day.

Back at the house, you, Sean, and Daniel head to the kitchen. The aroma of the sea still lingers in the air, and the kitchen becomes a lively hub of activity.

“Alright, what should we make?” Sean asks, rummaging through the pantry.

“I was thinking we could make some tacos,” you suggest, pulling out fresh vegetables and tortillas. “Something quick and easy.”

“Sounds perfect,” Sean agrees. “And I’ll handle the grilling.”

Daniel, always eager to help, starts chopping vegetables. “Can I be in charge of the toppings?”

“Definitely,” you say, handing him a knife and some cucumbers. “We’ll make a taco bar.”

As you work together, the kitchen fills with laughter and friendly banter. Sean moves around with practiced ease, his energy is contagious. You steal glances at him, enjoying the easy camaraderie that has developed between you.

“Hey, can you pass me that bowl?” Sean asks, leaning over the counter.

You hand him the bowl, your fingers brushing against his. “You’re getting pretty good at this cooking thing.”

Sean grins, his eyes twinkling. “Well, I’ve had a lot of practice. But I think I might have found my new favorite sous-chef.”

You laugh, enjoying the flirtatious tone in his voice. “Is that so? Maybe I should take it as a compliment.”

Sean’s gaze lingers on you. “Definitely take it as a compliment. I’m a pretty good judge of talent.”

The cooking continues with playful teasing and shared jokes. Daniel, between his chopping and arranging, occasionally throws in his own witty comments, making the kitchen atmosphere light and fun.

As the meal nears completion, Sean and you set the table while Daniel prepares a fresh salsa. The tacos turn out delicious, and everyone enjoys the fruits of your labor.

The evening settles in, and the Diaz house transforms into a cozy haven for movie night. Sean and Daniel are in the living room, setting up the space with blankets and pillows. The aroma of freshly popped popcorn fills the air, and the soft glow of a few lamps creates a warm ambiance.

“Alright, everything’s set,” Sean announces, plopping down on the couch and stretching his legs out. “What’s our movie pick tonight?”

You walk in, carrying a bowl of popcorn and a couple of soda cans. “How about a classic comedy? Something that’ll keep us laughing.”

Daniel, already curled up on one end of the couch, looks up with enthusiasm. “Sounds great! I love a good laugh.”

Sean grins, giving you a playful look. “You know, you have a knack for picking the perfect movie. I’m starting to think you might be a movie night expert.”

You laugh, settling down next to him and passing the popcorn bowl. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Sean takes a handful of popcorn and nudges you playfully. “Just trying to keep up with the expert.”

The movie starts, and the room fills with the sound of light-hearted humor. The three of you sink into the comfort of the couch, the shared laughter making the atmosphere feel even more relaxed.

As the movie progresses, you find yourself leaning closer to Sean, enjoying the warmth of his presence. The playful banter between you two continues, with occasional exchanges of glances and smiles that speak volumes.

In a particularly funny scene, you burst into laughter, almost spilling the popcorn. Sean catches a few kernels that fall, his hand brushing against yours as he retrieves them.

“Careful there,” Sean says with a mischievous smile. “I might have to start wearing a bib if you keep laughing like that.”

You nudge him gently. “Hey, I can’t help it if the movie’s hilarious.”

Sean’s gaze lingers on you, his eyes soft and appreciative. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it. It’s more fun with you here.”

You feel a warm flutter at his words. “I’m enjoying it too. And not just because of the movie.”

Sean’s smile widens, and he moves a little closer. “Oh? And why’s that?”

You meet his gaze, feeling a playful spark. “Because I get to spend time with you.”

Sean’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Flattery again, huh? I think you’re trying to get on my good side.”

“Maybe,” you say with a wink. “Or maybe I just enjoy your company.”

As the movie progresses, Daniel chimes in with his own commentary. “Hey, look at that!” he says, pointing at a particularly funny scene. “That reminds me of when Sean tried to dance at last year’s party. You remember that, right?”

Sean throws a playful glare at Daniel. “Oh, come on. That was one time, and it was supposed to be a surprise!”

You laugh, giving Sean a teasing look. “I’d love to hear more about this dancing adventure.”

Daniel grins, clearly enjoying the chance to tease his brother. “Well, let’s just say, Sean’s moves were… unique. He had the whole party laughing, including himself.”

Sean rolls his eyes but can’t suppress a grin. “Alright, alright. I admit it was a bit embarrassing. But in my defense, I was trying to impress someone.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really? Who was this lucky person?”

Sean’s smile widens as he looks at you. “Let’s just say I was trying to impress someone who made me feel like dancing.”

You meet his gaze, a playful spark in your eye. “Oh, well, I’m sure they were impressed.”

Daniel, catching on to the flirtatious exchange, chimes in with a teasing tone. “Yeah, and it seems like you never stop with trying to impress someone. You’re doing a pretty good job.”

Sean looks at Daniel with a mock stern expression. “Oh, you’re on thin ice, mister. Watch it.”

Daniel laughs, clearly enjoying the playful banter. “Just saying. It’s nice to see you two getting along so well.”

The movie continues, and the room is filled with laughter and light-hearted comments. Occasionally, Daniel adds his own humorous remarks, making the evening even more enjoyable.

As the movie draws to a close, you notice that Daniel has drifted off to sleep, his head resting against the arm of the couch. Sean gently adjusts the blanket over him, making sure he’s comfortable.

You watch the scene with a soft smile, feeling a sense of contentment. Sean notices your gaze and turns to you with a tender expression.

“Everything okay?” he asks softly.

You nod, your heart feeling warm. “Yeah, everything’s perfect. Thanks for making tonight so special.”

Sean’s smile is gentle, his eyes reflecting the same warmth you feel. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. It’s been a great day.”

The movie credits roll and the two of you sit in comfortable silence, the closeness between you palpable. Sean reaches over, taking your hand in his.

“This might have been my favorite movie night ever,” he says, his voice low and sincere.

You squeeze his hand, feeling a rush of affection. “Mine too. I’m really glad we’re doing this together.”

Sean’s gaze is steady and full of promise. “Me too.”

As the evening winds down, you and Sean find yourselves sitting closer, your hands intertwined. The warmth of the moment wraps around you, making it feel like the perfect end to a day filled with laughter and connection.

When it’s time to say goodnight, Sean walks you to the door, his hand lingering on yours.

“Thanks for tonight,” you say, feeling a mix of gratitude and anticipation.

Sean’s eyes sparkle with affection. “Anytime. I’m looking forward to more nights like this.”

You smile, feeling a sense of excitement about the future. “Me too. Goodnight, Sean.”

“Goodnight,” he replies softly, giving you a lingering look before you head out.

As you drive home, the day’s events replay in your mind, each moment with Sean and Daniel adding to a growing sense of closeness and possibility. The connection between you feels stronger than ever, setting the stage for new and exciting adventures ahead.

authors note: honestly the more chapters I write for this story the more emotional I get :( I am so so so happy to receive all your good feedback and I am really glad yall like this fic so much, it really motivates me to keep writing <333

[random-writing-panda]

||•~Old Flames Part 3~•||

Jason Todd (Red Hood) x reader  

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, harassment

Word count: 2.1k

Part 1, Part 2

It’s here part 3! I’ve been so busy with work this week I am absolutely exhausted! I'm so sorry for the wait on this one! I am trying to train myself to find writing a relaxing/de-stress task but I’m not quite there yet so its still taking a bit to get motivated to write. Thank you all so so much for the support and love I’m so excited and happy that people are enjoying my writing. Thank you to all the people who asked to be tagged!

====================================

After your argument with Red Hood you start avoiding Jason like the plague and during this time you get closer with the mysterious stranger at work. Will Jason try to win you back or lose you forever?

====================================

You had been miserable the last week. You were second guessing every decision you had made, had you over reacted? Maybe he would have told you eventually? No, he should have told you as soon as he found you. You couldn’t back down now. If he wanted you in his life he could come back on his hands and knees with some answers, any answers really.

The turmoil inside you was showing on your body in very noticeable ways, dark circles framed your eyes from restless nights, you hadn’t been eating well and your skin looked dull. You truly couldn’t care less about what you looked like you were trying to stay calm over the fact that you had just sent your best friend away, potentially forever, because of a moment of anger, you had to keep reminding yourself you deserved better than his lies, it didn’t make it any easier.

Work was surprisingly the only thing getting you through, at least here you could keep busy, chit chat with the old ladies that came in for their tea and coffee, you could ignore the stabbing feeling in your heart for the hours you were running around the store.

“Well, you look just about as crappy as I feel.” You look up from the benchtop you were wiping down and saw the handsome man from a few weeks ago, you recognised the same gorgeous green eyes, he was right, they looked as tired as yours did.

 “Having a rough week?” You let out a small chuckle at his exasperated sigh.

“You have no idea.” He stepped up to the bench leaning against it with his hip.

“Same as last time?”

This made him smile and there was a glint of mischief in his tired eyes, “You remember my order? Already?” He nods, confirmation of his order.

“You are a memorable person.” You shrugged and started brewing his coffee. “You know you still haven’t given me your name, I feel like I’m at a disadvantage!” you teased as your hand moved over your name tag.

“I don’t need that to remember your name darling, you’re quite memorable yourself. Plus, no Name just adds to my mysterious charm don’t you think?”

“Cute.” You look at him with one eyebrow raised. “But a name would be helpful, what am I supposed to put on the cup?” you joke with him almost effortlessly it felt like talking with an old friend it felt natural. It felt right.

“Fine if you need a name so bad,” he smirks, “its Ronaldo Fitzgerald”.

You roll your eyes and turn the cup to him, “Don’t know if that will fit on the cup.”

“mm” He hums in agreement nodding his head, “Well if you want a different name, you could go on a date with me some time.”

Your eyebrows raise and your lip’s part slightly, suddenly your mouth feels a little dry. You ponder his request for a moment, he was attractive enough, from the interactions you’ve had you seemed to get along pretty well. But it was still Gotham, you had to be careful. “Well, my shift finishes in a few minutes, if you stick around we can have some drinks and a little food?” you looked over to the wall, it truly had been great timing, five minutes left.

He smiled, a genuine smile, not a half smile, not his smirk, just a smile. “That sounds perfect darling, I’ll go take a seat.”

He walked over to a table while you had a quick chat with your coworker who was taking over. You quickly pack your belongings into your bag and make your way over to the table.

“I believe you owe me a name Mr..?”

“Oh, but does this count as a date?”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“This is more like two friends having afternoon tea, not really romantic.”

“Is this you asking for a second date? Already? Better be careful, might start thinking you like me.” You laugh a little as your coworker places your favourite drink down on the table and you nod and thank them.

“of course, I like you.”

That took you by shock. “Why? You don’t even know me yet.”

“Well, I like what I’ve seen so far, and I’m sure I will like everything else.” There was such sincerity in his eyes it made your heart flutter ever so slightly.

“You said that I look as bad as you feel, what’s happening in your life Mr mysterious?”

He leant back in the chair his arms up resting his head back into his knotted hands. “I kinda did something stupid and really upset a friend of mine…” his tone had an amused cadence to it but his physicality showed something closer to embarrassment, his relaxed posture turning ridged and a slight blush creeping onto his face, his eyes were glued to the ground.

“How badly did you fuck up?” you were curious, intrigued by how similar your situations had turned out to be, sipping your drink you watch him lift his head and press his lips together as they formed a thin line, and he almost pouted at you, he looked like a child being scolded.

“Pretty bad…I think I might have ruined our friendship.” He looked back down to the floor, and you watch him sigh deeply, “It was so stupid too I don’t know why I didn’t just talk to them…”

“Well how long have you been friends?”

“Ah-…that’s…also complicated.” He grimaced.

“You seem like a very complicated man.” A small chuckle escapes you.

“You have no idea. Anyhow, we were friends, honestly more like family since we were little kids but when I got a bit older things got…”

“Complicated?”

You see his body jerk a little and hear a quick exhale as he tried not to laugh. “Yeah, we ended up getting closer again but then I did this stupid thing and I think I lost them…”

“Well, I don’t know what you did but if I were the friend id just want you to apologise and explain the situation.” Were you projecting? Maybe? Was it still good advice? You hoped so.

He ran his finger across the back of his neck and rubbed at it sheepishly. “Yeah, I just haven’t had the guts to face them yet, they were always pretty scary.”

This made you laugh; a full-blown belly laugh that shook your entire body, the man in front of you looked like a body builder, was six feet tall, and was decked out in a leather jacket, everything about him screamed intimidating but here he sat scared to face his friend. You felt a little bad laughing at his expense, but it was all too adorable not too. After a few moments you hear his light chuckles.

“Yeah, I suppose it sounds a little silly.”

“No, no I’m sorry, it’s just, you,” You waved your hands in front of you gesturing at his entire body. “Being scared of someone is hard to imagine. In all seriousness though you should just go talk to them, the longer you wait the worse it will be.”

“Yeah, I know you’re right. Ill talk to them.” He looked at you with those eyes, those gorgeous eyes that reminded you of some lost fondness like remembering a childhood pet, and they were filled with determination.

The two of you spent the better part of an hour chatting before exchanging numbers and parting ways, you were so glad you accepted his offer it was the best date you had been on in a long time. As you looked down at your phone now holding his contact information you realised, he still hadn’t given you his name.

∞∞

After listening about how you mystery man was going to fix his issues with his friend you felt a heaviness overcome you, there were so many emotions mixed inside you, you felt as though you could drown in them, you were angry that he was going to fix his situation but Jason couldn’t come fix yours, you felt so much guilt about being angry but more than anything you were still just sad, you missed Jason perhaps more than when you thought he was dead.

You had to do something to distract yourself, so you made your way to your favourite bar. You are about five drinks in when the bartender pipes up starting to chat with you.

“Anymore and you might drown.” He teased.

“Thatss the point!” you hadn’t realised how tipsy you were getting but your slurred words gave you some clarity, part of you knew you should stop, leave and go back to home to sleep off the emotions but the other part of you won, the part that was filled with emotions and tears and Jason, the part of you that you wanted to drown out.

“Drinking your problems won’t fix em’”.

“No but it’ll make me forget them!” you happily chirped as you took another drink.

The bartender sighed and walked away. You sat at the bar and continued nursing drinks for a few hours and as you walked out of the bar you cursed yourself out, it was hard for you to walk straight and it felt like the sidewalk was spinning like a carousel, you placed a palm on the building next to you and dragged you hand over the cool bricks and cement trying to steady yourself.

You only make it a few blocks when you hear whistles and footsteps, a group of men cross the street, their eyes set on you, you beg your brain to move your feet faster and they do but in your intoxicated state you end up stumbling over your own feet.

“Hey sweetheart what’s a pretty girl like you doin’ out so late?” one of the men shout from behind you and you can hear the others snickering.

You push yourself off the wall and start walking again, the throbbing in your temples was not helping you see straight.

“Hey! it’s not nice to ignore people little lady!” one of the men grabs you shoulder spinning you around to face them.

“I’m..jusst trying to go…home..” you stutter out and try to pull away.

“Why go home when you can have some fun with us darling?” the look on his face was downright malicious.

“Don’t call me that! jusst want to go home…please leave.” You were scared now the throbbing had turned to pounding now and there was so much pressure on your brain you thought your head might explode, this wasn’t safe but there was no way for you to get away from this.

“The lady wants to go home so why don’t you unhand her?” a new voice chimed in, it was one you recognised and as the group of men turned you saw the mystery man from the café, your date.

“How about you keep moving and mind your business, man.” One of the men stepped towards him, ready to, wanting to fight.

“Oh, you really don’t want to do that.” you café date was smirking as he shifted his stance ready to fight.

Before you knew it punches were being thrown and you were tossed to the floor by the man holding you, it didn’t help with the spinning. It was hard for you to focus on the fight all you knew was that the was a lot of cursing and groans, you catch glimpses through you spinning vision and it looks like the group of men were losing, it was incredible, a few were on the floor covered in blood and you watched as your date landed a hit right into one mans jaw, you swear you heard a crunch of broken bones. After an agonising few minutes your date was the last one standing, they had gotten a few hits in, his busted lip and bruises were already prominent as he walked over to you.

“What are you doing here…?” you slurred out as he pulled you up into his arms. “Stalking me…”

“More like saving you.” He softly grabbed you chin and moved you face left and right checking for any injuries. “Did they hurt you?”

You shake your head before you realised how bad of a decision that was the movement sends the world spinning again and you rest your forehead on his chest groaning loudly.

“Okay come on Darling lets get you home, where do you live?” when you didn’t respond he looked down and saw your closed eyes. “Oh god seriously? Fuck, fine come on then.” He groans and pulls you up into his arms as he carries you down the streets one of his arms wrapped around your back and the other tucked under your knees as he pulled you close to his chest.

===================

Tag list:

General tag list~ @jasontoddslover

Old Flames tag list~ @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @princessbl0ss0m @batmanunicorns523

[empressawesomecoolness]

Doctor Who: The Ultimate Speedrun Marathon - Series 1 (2005)

Eccleston as the 9th Doctor seems to be a big fan favorite, including among my Whovian friends, so I was especially excited to start his era. Needless to say, I was very impressed! This series really brought Doctor Who out of its ‘80s era funk and into the modern age, so its importance deserves the praise, which I’m about to give in truckloads.

General Thoughts

Right out the gate, Christopher Eccleston was the perfect actor to take on the role! From what I’d heard of the 9th Doctor before watching this series, I assumed he’d be very serious, edgy, and overall just a grimdark take on Doctor Who. The early 2000s was ripe with franchises and reboots like that, so I was pleasantly surprised to see just how three-dimensional he was! I was mainly familiar with Eccleston from the 2010 TV movie Lennon Naked, which he was fucking awful in, so to see him so perfectly embody the Doctor gave me whiplash ngl. He does have darkness in him, which comes out in relation to his Time War PTSD and his hatred of the Daleks, but he’s also really lively and snarky in most moments. Such a great character all around! If Paul McGann makes you fall in love with the Doctor’s personality, Eccleston makes you understand it.

I assume the tragic backstory 9 mentions throughout this series (regarding the Time War, the destruction of Gallifrey, and him being the last of the Time Lords) was a retcon made for this series in particular, since the 8th Doctor was on his way back to Gallifrey at the beginning of the ‘96 TV movie. Maybe he was just visiting the rubble idk. I could be wrong, but I include this just to mention that I assume lore retcons will probably be rampant from here forward, so I’m cool with that.

Moving onto this Doctor’s companion, there’s a few. The main one we follow is 19 year old Rose Tyler, played by Billie Piper. I was familiar with Piper as Brona/Lily in Penny Dreadful, which she was great in, so it was cool to see her again in a very different role. Rose starts out really wayward and flat, but over the course of the series and her adventures with the Doctor, she grows more involved with the world and becomes happier as a person. It’s a cool development that really cuts to the core of what the Doctor represents as a traveler and explorer of all things exciting and hopeful. Dr. Grace Holloway gives her a run for her money as my favorite companion so far, but Rose is really interesting and overall just a great human protagonist for us to tag along with.

Along with her, there’s also Mickey (Ricky?) Smith, played by Noel Clarke, and Captain Jack Harkness, played by John Barrowman. With Mickey, I assumed he’d just be a throwaway character, as a teenage boyfriend Rose leaves behind for good to move onto greater things, but he comes back again and again, with a lot of development that really surprised me! He grows from a pretty flat and lame guy into a character with a lot of agency and intelligence. His angst over Rose leaving him for time/space adventures was also really sad :( I felt bad for him honestly, but he grows beyond his need for Rose and comes into his own right

Captain Jack was really fun too. Reminded me a lot of Firefly. I expected him to be one-off character too, but he sticks around and is really fun to follow. It’s cool to have another snarky space/time adventurer around for a little bit. He’s also a bi king so that’s dope as fuck

Back to the 9th Doctor himself, I really liked the parallels drawn between him and the Daleks. This might just be a coincidence, but I think the interior walls of his TARDIS look a lot like the outer shell of the Daleks. Just thought that was a cool detail.

Speaking of his TARDIS in general, the more industrial look contrasts with the 7th & 8th Doctor’s warm homely TARDIS. The spindly concrete pillars and the shiny metal walls/floor are really striking. It’s like a modern-art exhibit. It’s both very 2000s and very classic looking.

Favorite Episodes

Aliens of London

World War 3

The Empty Child

The Doctor Dances

Dalek

The End of The World

Favorite Moments

“You would make a good Dalek”….. omg chills

Rose being there for her father’s death was really sad and moving. That whole episode was great, but that last moment was especially effective

“Kill yourself.” lol

Charles Dickens having his own sort of Scrooge-esque arc was really nice. A bit sad knowing that he would die a year after the episode is set, but still bittersweet and nice.

The Doctor’s joy after realizing everyone finally gets to walk away okay in episode 10 was great! It’s an amazingly emotional moment for someone who’s gone through so much loss and grief, and Eccleston plays it perfectly. Everyone lives!!!

Rose getting super glowy TARDIS powers was cool as hell for her development into a hero in her own right, as well as being dope as fuck overall. I’m gonna assume/headcanon that the “Heart of the TARDIS” that appears in the finale is the same as the Eye of Harmony that appears in the TV movie.

That final regeneration scene… So cool! I’ll miss Eccleston, but he made the most of his time as the 9th Doctor. The way David Tennant also makes his appearance uniquely his was super funny. Just kinda commenting on his new teeth and then shrugging it off.

Alright, that’s it for Series 1, as well as the end of Eccleston’s run as the 9th Doctor. It was a fun ride and an amazing start to this fresh new beginning to the franchise, but I suppose it’s time to move on with him. Now, onto Series 2, with David Tennant taking over as the 10th Doctor.

[betterthanbatman1]

What childhood things do you see each bat kid collecting? (for example- silly pens, glow in the dark stars, silly bands, classified government records, etc.)

Thanks for the ask-I love this! I am guilty of collecting silly little things :)

Dick: Fidget toys. Bruce bought him some because the child needed them okay. Dick batKID! era had murder on his mind and ‘ugh Toys are for babies, Bruce!!’ He secretly loved them and still uses them all the time (he gave some to Damian too)

Jason: Rocks 🪨. What can I say? He’s a cool kid who collects cool rocks. Little Jason walking from a baseball game holding Bruce’s hand only to pull away and turn around because ‘Cmon B you just walked past a really cool rock!!!’

Cass: Glow in the dark stars. She loved to look up at the stars on the ceiling and the wall, this is where she felt peaceful. She sometimes lies down on the floor beside Duke and they stay there in silence or Duke tells her about the latest video game he’s been playing. Also silly pens because underneath the cowl she’s a softie. Her favourite is a black pen with a fluffy pink topper that has one googley eye on it (the second eye fell off but it’s perfect!)

Duke: Marbles. He swears he knows the rules of the game okay! Besides they’re really pretty and he can make them glow. He almost set fire to one of the cushions by manipulating the light through the glass, but don’t tell Alfred. He also collected metal bottle caps- bonus points for turning them into cool pin badges.

Steph: Clothing tags. Not the ugly ones that have fine print on it. The ones that have the company logo on it. Also random sewing materials like pieces of ribbon and buttons because ‘You never know when you’ll be in a fashion crisis!!’ Also Snow globes because I’m indecisive and she deserves a nice Snow globe.

Tim: Definitely classified government records. He accidentally found them okay! Finders keepers. The government still don’t know they’re missing. He’d also collects sticks from the Manor Gardens and gives one to someone he loves. Bruce cried when he was handed a stick- Selina was very confused.

Damian: Animal stickers. When he was in the League of Assassins, they’d get food come in for their animals, the packaging would come with an animal sticker that Damian would keep. Dick found his collection and Damian was embarrassed and swore him to secrecy. Dick bought him a 100 sticker animal book after that.

[ijwrsmff]

I could really go for some super fluffy Gorou x reader, like toothrotting sweet fluff. Anything.

HAVE YOUR FLUFF! YOU DESERVE IT! And I hope you enjoy it!

I do love Gorou, he's just so precious ;-; This can be interpreted as romantic or platonic. I'll add those tags just in case.

Word Count: 1,141

“Come on!” You said to Gorou as you dragged him along the path. It was very important what you planned to do. He had no idea of your plan, but you liked it that way. It’d be a nice surprise. 

“W-W-WHERE ARE WE GOING?!?!” He called, not exactly fighting too hard to break free of your grip. He trusted you, as you saved many of the people he was in charge of. Helped him appeal the vision hunt decree with Sangonomiya Kokomi. 

You only giggled in response, and headed towards Narukami Island. You see, tonight is the fireworks festival. Earlier, Gorou had mentioned never sitting somewhere he could properly see the fireworks. You had gained permission to sit right on top of the hill, the best place to see them. It would be perfect, and a nice bonding experience…as you wanted to get closer to the general. 

It wasn’t quite dark when you left, but it sure would be by the time you got there. It was quite the journey, but you made up for it with smalltalk. Gorou sometimes didn’t know how to respond, and was pretty awkward at first. He was much more talkative once you released your grip on him, when he mentioned he would follow you even if you weren’t dragging him. 

After you got closer, Gorou seemed to grow more nervous. It was hard seeing him be so nervous, but it was fair since he wasn’t entirely sure where you were going, or why. He definitely had more anxiety than he let the people he trained see. You reached over and held his hand, immediately gaining a reaction from him. 

He didn’t say anything, but his face turned redder than you thought possible. His tail went straight up in shock, but once you looked at him closer his tail started to wave behind him. Back and forth, and it showed that he didn’t mind your hand holding in the least. In fact, it seemed like he really enjoyed it. Though once he met your gaze, he looked away quickly. 

“Is this…okay?” You asked, not wanting to push a boundary. He did seem to like it, but just in case you were wrong, you wanted to check. 

He nodded, and when you went to take your hand away he reached out and grabbed it again. It was so cute…he was adorable. You just wanted to…

He saw you looking at his ears, and he huffed. “Maybe once we get there…I’ll let you rub my ears.” Gorou looked around for a minute, and noticed you were coming close to an island he’d never been to before. “What are we going there for?” It was a new place to him, so he wasn’t sure what was on the small island or what it entailed. 

It was nearly dark right now, which was perfect. Once you got to the island he looked more curious than ever. “Can we…look at the shops?” He wasn’t one to spend money constantly, but some of the items looked so cool! Rocks, weird sticks that apparently lit up, and several other things that peaked his interest. 

By the time you were done shopping, it was all but dark. You led him to the top of the hill, and he looked around. “What are we doing here?” He seemed to ask you questions like that a lot. You couldn’t blame him, you hadn’t given any hints since leaving. 

“Shhh just watch over there.” And you pointed in the general direction of where the fireworks would be. This was already so exciting, you just knew he’d love them! He was used to loud noises by now, so this shouldn’t be a problem. Besides…some quality time with him would be nice. He’s got a lot of responsibility on his shoulders, so relaxing for a couple hours could do him a lot of good. 

He only tilted his head at your response, and did as instructed. He looked…and looked…and finally, the first firework went off. Gorou’s eyes beamed, and he almost jumped out of his spot in excitement before he sat down on the ground. 

“Woah…I knew about fireworks…but I’ve never seen them so close…” He didn’t take his eyes off the sight, as you sat next to him. Both of you dangle your legs off the edge, and you often looked back to see his tail swaying. It was so heartwarming…

Gorou was staring so intently, but he would look back at you as well, with a “Did you see that one?!” Or “It’s so pretty!” or even “That one’s my favorite!” Which he said about many different ones. He was on cloud 9, and if his eyes could sparkle, they would be doing just that. 

When it was over, he let out a small, “aw…” but he quickly perked up once he looked to see you staring at him with a smile. “W-what? Is there something on my face?” He put his hands up and tried to wipe something off. 

“No…I just don’t see you this happy very often. It’s really cute!” And you giggled, reaching out and grabbing his hand. Your smile was genuine, as his blush returned. 

“C-cute? Me?” He pointed at himself, then looked away, down at the water. “I…” He let out a deep breath. “Can I tell you something?” Gorou ended up kicking his feet off the ledge a couple times and seemed pretty nervous. 

“You can tell me anything, Gorou.” You smiled, and reached your other hand over to hold his one hand with both of yours. You cared for the general, “I’ll always be here to listen to you. Even if I’m somewhere else, I’ll always be back to see you.” 

It only made his blush worse, and he looked you in the eyes. His eyes looked…adoring. It almost made you blush in return. But you didn’t have the chance before he spoke, “Thank you.” He clearly had more to say, but couldn’t find the words. 

You gave him some time, saying a small “Thank you…? For what?” Tilting your head in return, he sighed and looked away briefly before looking back into your eyes. 

“Some people…are scared of me. For being a general for an essentially rebellious organization. Or only look at me with formality. You…treat me like just another person.” He reached with his other hand, and now both his and your hands were covering the other’s. He then moved your hands to rest on his ears. 

“So…I just wanted to say…thank you.” He melted as your hands played with his ears, and he gathered up the courage to say the rest of his spiel after a moment. He didn’t want to sound cheesy, but he couldn’t help it. He cared just as much about you, as you cared about him. If not more. 

“Thank you…for being you.” 

[nakanotamu]

What's Kairi been like since she returned to Stardom?

When she first came back, she said "I was Kairi Hojo, then I was Kairi Sane, and now I'm just KAIRI" and honestly I think that's proved to be a rather good encapsulation of who she's been since she came back.

She doesn't shy away from her past at all, referencing past relationships and events, and frequently drawing on parts of her character that are very identifiably what she was like before. Sometimes she's very visibly Kairi Hojo, an overwhelmed underdog babyface pushing herself past the limits of reason. More frequently she's visibly still Kairi Sane, a bit of a weirdo and a huge dickhead who loves getting under people's skin, not seemingly out of maliciousness but bc she finds it entertaining, particularly when she's teaming with Nanae Takahashi. But there's a new, added element on top of it it too.

She's experienced now, and she's ~world travelled~, to be frank, she knows she's a big deal. She's a little aloof, and seems to see herself as a lot above everyone. (Except for maybe Mayu, but that's a more specific relationship than this post needs to get into.) She uses the suffix -kun for nearly everyone, which is extremely overly familiar to the point of rudeness. It's like when someone goes around calling everyone "buddy" in a way that makes it clear they are certainly not actually buddies.

And then, more recently, she started losing. (She only lost like 2 matches but, given she only wrestles infrequently and kind of assumes she can take everyone, that had her rattled.) Stardom is progressing and she looks around at an increasingly unfamiliar landscape that is catching up with her. The more she gets involved, the more clear it is how disconnected she actually is. When she first came back she quickly buddied up with Mayu, who was happy to team with her for a big return pop. But later last year, once they were set to actually face each other, Mayu was like, to paraphrase, "Yeah I can't fucking stand her. I think she's a bigshot who doesn't work for it anymore and picks and chooses her spots to look good and doesn't deserve the hype." So that's certainly not someone she can rely on to have her back. Her biggest ally so far had been Nanae Takahashi, based on a return to their tag team from like 8 years ago, and Nanae seems genuinely very fond of her, but also has her own stuff going on, and Kairi lost with her, so she's prioritizing that relationship a bit less after that.

So she reaches out to basically her only remaining connections at this point - Natsupoi, who is obsessed with her, and Saori Anou, who along with Natsumipoi showed up to save her from being shortstaffed years ago, when they first established their connections to Stardom, to challenge for the Artist belts. And sidenote, but even the connections she draws on sort of show how out of the loop she is. Like, this is stuff going back 6, 7, 8 years. Ancient history in joshi time.

They both agree to team together, obviously, but it's not just some perfect team that immediately comes together with everyone loving each other. Poi likes Anou, but is sceptical about teaming with such a major rival of hers, about even having her around. And, what's more, Kairi is her idol, but once she gets this opportunity, she needs to sit and think a little bit, because she realizes she's kind of just sad she's not teaming with Tam for it. And Saori seems perfectly content to team with them, but pretty quickly, the way I see it, tips her hand that she's actually there to be beside Tam again, and Kairi is almost more a means to an end for her, with how quickly she stepped up and told Tam she would join Cosmic Angels, before she'd even had her first match back in Stardom. (There's plenty of room for her to reveal herself to be much more selfishly motivated than that but this is how the story reads to me so far and I'm going to stick with that until they tear that interpretation from my hands.)

So anyway, bringing it back around to Kairi that is the most recent development of her story. REstart did win the Artist titles, so Kairi got the win she was looking for, but she also finds herself much, much more closely tied to Cosmic Angels than she perhaps intended or expected, and that's after herself admitting an interest in and similarity to Tam when she first came back. She pulled a team around her out of probably the last two people she figured would be totally devoted to her, only to immediately find they're actually more devoted to someone else. They're happy to be Kairi's teammates, but they already have a leader. So the question now is if after so many years away, and so much time seeing herself as kind of above the day-to-day goings on of Stardom, if she can make herself treat her teammates as equals and learn how to play nice again as a member of a team.

[girltalkcollectives]

When Did You First Learn Your Skin Color Was 'Different'? I was 5.

TW: racism, childhood trauma

You never forget your first time. Not your first kiss, or your first day of school, but your first experience with racism. Mine happened between juice boxes and monkey bars.

I was five years old, rocking my favorite yellow sundress and butterfly hair clips, excited for my first day of summer camp. Mom had braided my hair the night before, and I felt like the prettiest girl in the world. You know that pure, untainted confidence only little kids have? That was me that morning.

It didn't last past snack time.

The Scene:

Picture this: A sunny playground in mid-July. Kids running around playing tag. The smell of sunscreen and fruit punch in the air. Normal summer camp things. I'd just finished my apple juice and was ready to join a group of girls playing "princesses" in the corner of the playground.

What happened next is seared into my memory with the kind of clarity that only trauma brings:

"You can't play with us." "Why not?" "Because you're black. No black people allowed!"

They started running around the playground, turning it into a chant: "No black people allowed! No black people allowed!"

Just like that, my yellow sundress didn't feel so pretty anymore.

The "Explanation":

The counselors, bless their well-meaning hearts, tried to handle it. They put the other girls in time-out and gave them the standard "we don't exclude people" talk. Then one of them sat down with me, probably seeing my confusion and hurt, and tried to explain:

"It's like if you're wearing a green shirt and they don't like the color green…"

That's right. They compared my skin color – my identity, my heritage, my entire existence – to a shirt you can just change.

My Mother's Rage:

When my mom picked me up and heard about the "green shirt" explanation, I learned what righteous fury looked like. I remember her face changing, her grip on the steering wheel tightening.

"Baby, let me explain something to you," she said, turning to face me fully. "Your skin is not a shirt you can take off. It's not something you can change, and it's not something you should want to change. It's beautiful, it's who you are, and anyone who can't see that is the one with the problem."

Then she marched right back into that camp office.

The Adults Let Us Down:

Looking back now, I'm struck by how many adults failed that day:

The counselors who oversimplified racism to a shirt color

The parents who raised kids who already knew how to be racist at 5

The camp administration who probably thought time-out solved racism

The Things You Remember:

It's wild what sticks with you from moments like these:

The pattern of my yellow sundress (butterflies and flowers)

The taste of apple juice turning sour in my mouth

The sound of their sing-song voices: "No black people allowed!"

The hot shame of standing alone

The way my butterfly clips suddenly felt heavy

The confusion of not understanding what I'd done wrong

The Lessons Learned Too Early:

At five years old, I learned:

My skin color could make me an outsider

Some people would hate me without knowing me

Adults don't always know how to help

Racism isn't always hood-wearing obvious

Sometimes it comes with pigtails and juice boxes

What Nobody Tells You:

The first cut of racism might come from children, but the wound is deepened by the adults who don't know how to handle it. Well-meaning white counselors comparing fundamental identity to clothing choices. Authority figures who think time-out can cure generational prejudice.

To My Five-Year-Old Self:

Sweet girl in the yellow sundress:

It was never about you

Your skin is not a shirt

Your beauty is not debatable

Their racism was not your burden to bear

You deserved better

You were perfect exactly as you were

To Parents and Educators:

Don't compare immutable characteristics to clothing

Don't oversimplify racism to make yourself comfortable

Don't pretend time-out solves systemic issues

Do have real conversations about race

Do validate children's experiences

Do call racism what it is

The Reality:

First memories should be about:

Making friends

Learning to swim

Playing games

Summer fun

Being a kid

Not learning that your skin color makes you "different."

Moving Forward:

That day changed me, as first encounters with racism always do. But my mother's response taught me something more powerful: to stand tall, to know my worth, and to never let anyone make me feel less than because of my skin.

To the little Black girls at summer camp: You are beautiful, you belong, and it's not your job to make others comfortable with your existence.

And to my fellow Black women who remember their "first time" all too well – I see you, I feel you, and I hope you're healing too.

[decaf-mother]

"Red Writing"

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5

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OCs x F!Reader

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You are a young woman who also happens to be a witch- ending up with you in a college of mythical beings... {This story is gonna be silly chaos and will be aimed at my fellow bisexuals.}

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Warnings: Angst, Abuse Mention

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Your cup of coffee is gripped tight in your shaky hands, you perhaps should lay off the caffeine a bit... It is not helping your anxiety.

Your aunt is doing her best to soothe you but the things she just told you- they could haunt your dreams for several nights in a row. Maybe even forever.

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Your father was a cruel man- a spell caster with a heart of black. He could be quite charming to the point he fooled everyone around him into believing he was a perfect match for your mother.

The marriage was forced by their families, a uniting of power in a way. It didn't take long for the cruelty to begin behind closed doors, most of the time it wasn't even directed at your mother though... He treated the servants in such a horrible way. She couldn't stand it.

She coped with it all for so long- the crimson colors and blooming bruises along the surface of her heart. When she found out she was pregnant with you though.... She couldn't let her child grow up in such a dark place. She wanted better for you.

Leaving him was no easy task... It involved abandoning everything, it involved taking you to a whole new place. It involved pretending to be something else entirely... But she was willing to do it all.

You deserved better. She was going to give you that.

-

Tears streak your cheeks and your aunt clasps your hands into hers, the sound of birds chirping outside her beautiful Victorian style home.

"It's okay... Cry all you need to, dear... You're not alone any longer."

Your aunt felt responsible for not being able to do more, it wasn't her fault either yet she blamed herself. She was your mother's older sister and yet she couldn't save her- protect her.

So now... You are her responsibility and she'll be damned if anything ever happens to you.

"Stay strong... You have your mother's blood in your veins."

••

Your fingers tap against the steering wheel, still in park combatting several things in your mind at once. Slowly you make your way out of the vehicle, just needing time to yourself to think... That's all.

Your foot catches against a rock and you don't manage to catch yourself, simply prepping to make contact with the gravel..... Your eyes slowly flutter open upon feeling a strong arm catch you, slowly looking up you lock eyes with beautiful deep crimson ones.

"Oh-"

You croak out and scramble to gain your balance fully, pulling away from the person who caught you from behind.

It's a woman who's about 5'6, apple body shape, mocha toned skin, long curly black hair, square face shape and of course those striking crimson eyes. She's wearing a denim jacket covered in various pins, black tank top, dark jeans, black lace up boots and red heart earrings.

"Somebody's awful clumsy, yeah?"

She grins slightly flashing her fangs... Ah yes, vampire.

"Yeah. It seems I have a way of bumping into others..."

Well, that was an awkward response.

The young woman laughs as she clearly finds the situation amusing, a natural flirtiness to her tone as she speaks to you.

"Well, maybe I should stick around then... Don't want you smacking that pretty face of yours on the ground."

You try to fight the heat burning at your cheeks, quickly facing away from her in an attempt to hide it... Begging God to please not let her notice that she just so effortlessly made you flustered. Fuck, pretty woman... Crapppp...

"Mind if I walk with you?"

She wastes no time in attempting to get closer to you, eyes not leaving your form for a moment as you hesitantly nod. You allow her to tag along as you make your way back towards the building...

Getting accompanied to your room by a strange flirty vampire you just met? You certainly are on a roll lately... Seriously. Get it together.

"My name's Alexi by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Alexi..."

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{Oops- Angst. Have sexy vampire lady as apology. Lmao}

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{@sofasoap @scar-crossedlvrs @anna-banana27 }

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{More Content}

[marierg]

Biscuits and Beskar: 2

Pairing: Boba Fett x OC Kaylee Manu

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, language, mentions of past traumas, fighting, poor self image, getting nervous around the Daimyo, frisky thoughts (still pretty sfw).

A/N: This is written in the style of a reader insert where the reader is Kaylee. So Kaylee is not used to her little world getting set off kilter. She likes the idea of a partner but doesn't usually have the time. Then Boba walks in and the feelings hit like a ton of bricks. Boba is intrigued and Fennec is in the background like a chess master moving the pieces. Fennec is ma girl, like I would love to be besties with her.

Picture credit: Disney and Lucasfilm

Words: 3000 ish...

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“Come work for the Daimyo they said. It'll be great they said. You only might get killed on your first day.”

You hissed out a breath body aching, but there was work to do. You weren't about to let either of the bosses catch you slacking. The second in command had the eyes of a shreik-hawk. She had given very clear instructions to you: keep the Daimyo in good health and spirits. There was an unspoken or else in the silent look she gave that didn't bear testing. You had cautiously requested to see the kitchen. It was an appalling, dirty wreck, and that would have been a kind assessment.

The walk in was out of range, produce and meat were going bad, whomp rats had gotten into most of the dry storage. Then there was the equipment! Looking at the assassin with beribboned hair you quickly insisted on a full remodel. Fennec, as she had introduced herself, had simply given you a slight nod of approval telling you to let her know whatever you needed. You had expected an argument or at least some grumbling. Instead the woman walked away quiet as death.

You weren't entirely certain that she wasn't the specter herself.

“Honestly the state of this place, might as well have left the door open. Wake up to a krayt dragon in the throne room playing with the Rancor.”

It was pure luck that the kids had returned to the palace when they had. The smell of Wookie fur a dead give away for trouble the minute you all crossed the threshold. And while you hadn't necessarily formed your own opinion about the new Daimyo, no one deserved to die ripped limb from limb. Racing up the stairs there the beast was, crushing the man as his feet dangled off the floor.

Bless Drash's soul, the girl had no fear going right for the great terror head on. The others fell in rank behind her ready to brawl. You had joined in as well, landed a few cuts with your knife before being flung like a rag doll across the room. Landing squarely on a very warm, large body. The breath, along with all sense apparently, knocked from you as you lay atop of the infamous Boba Fett.

A half naked Boba Fett whose arms had circled around steadying you and what had been your reaction? Instead of being terrified you had dumbly looked down at his dark, handsome face, swiped your sleeve at his cut lip and said, “You're bleeding.”

What kind of a fool does that?! In the middle of a fight no less! But damn the man for being so handsome... probably why he wore that bucket. Wouldn't get any business done at all with those eyes on everyone seeking audience going dumb.

His brown eyes that had stared back at you like there wasn't a gargantuan, killer hairball not a few feet away. Eyes that should have been cold or harsh or angry given his reputation. But no, they were warm and just a touch amused. He had smirked and quickly rolled, pushing you into a protected side of the room before grabbing a gaffi stick to rejoin the maylay. He was broad in the chest with bearlike strength, fluid and graceful in his movement. Watching as he coordinated his attacks with the others dancing with perfect rhythm. The new Daimyo was something to behold and not one to be trifled with for certain.

Back in the present you moved the grill grates back into place and relit the pilot light. The cabinets were in varying states of repair, counter now resealed and secure again. Rough first days, but looking around now it was starting to feel like your own space. You couldn't help but do a little spin to test out the cleaned floors. The tile in the kitchen was beautiful, thoroughly swept and polished to a high shine. Amazing what you could find hidden under all that tattoine sand.

Not unlike the handsome man in armor down the hall...

Karabast you needed to get a grip! So what if the man was broad and solid. So what if he was kind to those around him. So what if he was honorable in victory and spared the life of the being sent to kill him. And so what if he had protected you. Boba Fett was the boss you were the cook.

“Kaylee don't be a fool... finally landed a good job GET A GRIP!” For Maker's sake you'd only just met the man. Not to mention that you knew better than anyone that crime lords only wanted the arm candy types. Pretty little airheads that didn't care what shady deals happened around them. Not scared, round, small little things like you. Placing the last of the racks in the oven you stacked the pans back on the shelves, clanging them angrily. It was stupid of you to be acting like this.

“Ratty leave that be, I'm not done fixing the door yet,” The little droid paused its shelving work drooping his antenna and beeping fearfully. Cringing at having been so stern you softened your tone. “Hey I'm not mad, it's ok buddy. It's just that I really need you to help me finish the pantry right now. R9 can handle that.”

The little rat catcher was so easily spooked, he had hid for hours when you first started. You could see the many dents and rewires that told you the poor little bit had been previously abused. All of them had, even 8-D8 had mismatched parts. Well that wouldn't happen from now on, not on your watch. If there was one thing this whole palace needed it was a little bit of care and attention. Giving a soft smile you tried again, “How 'bout it? I'll get you both a nice oil bath after we're done?”

With a happy set of boops the droid had scurried to where you stood happily handing you the sorted in date items. Honestly how any of the beings here weren't dead from food poisoning was a wonder, “First thing tomorrow you and me are going to tackle the last of the cabinets and the walk in. Sound like a plan? Can't have the boss thinking we slack about can we now.”

Ratty beeped and swiveled his head in agreement.

Boba observed you from the shadows, much like he had the day before. Did you even realize that you sang loud enough he could hear in the throne room? As for your last comment, the boss didn't think you a slack about. Already the place looked brighter, cleaner. There were fresh herb planters lining the walls and things neat and tidy. He had half smirked watching as you sharpened the knives, checking the balance of the tang and blade with practiced ease. A craftswoman about her work.

Loath as Boba was to admit it, Fennec had been right. Already operations about the palace were running more efficiently. He was pleased that you had decided to stay, though unhappy with the restrictive movements you worked with. You were pushing through an injury just to prove your worth to the boss. Even Boba was still stiff after using the bacta tank, Wookies were never an easy fight. He had noticed all too well the little winces, the ginger bending at the hip and deep breaths. Worse was that it was his negligence that led to your injury. He allowed for the Palace to continue crumbling into disrepair; it had been careless and he received a painful lesson when Krrsantan had breached security. Stepping into the kitchen fully Boba noticed the food and various drinks on the side board, easy to grab and more than enough to keep this lot fed. Seeing a tray of cookies he picked up the delicate treat.

“Oh Lord Fett! I'm sorry for the chaos, the kitchen should be done by tomorrow.” You stumbled coming out of the pantry but managed not to fall. "I'm sorry I hope you haven't been... How can I help you."

He hummed in amusement, removing his helmet and tucking it snugly under his arm. You looked flushed and tired Boba thought, watching as you fidgeted nervously.

“I could make something for you...”

He waived a hand ceasing your nervous ramble, “You've done more than enough, especially being injured.”

“Just sore sir, I can still work.” Oh kark, wouldn't that just be the way of things. Two days of work and you get fired for being slow.

“That was not in question,” Leaning a hip on the counter he ate the cookie, taking in the subtle butter and almond flavors of the treat. It was delicious, as was his meal earlier. For the first time in a long while Boba felt energized, his mind sharper. It didn't hurt his mood any that the little chef was pleasing to glace at as well. Must have some Pantoran blood with the slight purple highlight in your hair and golden eyes. “I have a duty to those under my employ. I will send Fennec to see to you after the meeting.”

“I'm fine really...”

“Never the less.” Fixing the woman with a very unimpressed stare Boba made a grumbling noise in the back of his throat. Stubborn little thing. “Fennec will see to you after the meeting.”

“Well at least let me make you a fresh cup of Kaf.” You turned to walk to the machine. Your stomach dropped, not only for being scolded but also because you had screwed up. You had been so focused on trying to get the kitchen sorted and the food made that you hadn't even thought to ask Fennec for an itinerary. If your Papa were alive he would have shaken his head at such a rookie mistake. You decided to try to roll with the situation, keeping a calm tone. “And how many are expected?”

“It is only the few of us here, though there are some new faces that you should know.” Boba could see that his comment had put you on edge. He pivoted quickly wanting to put you at ease, which was a curiosity in itself. Perhaps he had gone soft, “Your name is Kaylee correct?”

“Yes Lord Fett,” Why were you blushing and why did his voice sound like smoky velvet to your ears? A grown ass woman did not turn into a simpering mess just because the new boss was as handsome as the devil himself and sounded twice as enticing. Oh Garsa was right you really needed to get out more. Straightening your apron and folding your hands you tried to compose yourself. “Chef Kaylee Manu at your service.”

“Well Chef Kaylee, I would like your input on further improvements for the Palace. What you see as needs for the staff here including yourself.” Boba tried to keep his tone even and low. He watched as you worked the knobs on the fancy Kaf machine. From this angle he had a fine view of your figure hidden beneath the apron and well worn coveralls. Something he had noted earlier, the flight coveralls. Embroidered with desert blooms and stars, tailored at the waist to taper giving you more of a fitted look than the excess material was originally designed for. It was far too warm an outfit given the climate and your job, so that begged the question why? Yet even under the cumbersome layers he watched as you gracefully approached and offered him a mug of Kaf.

Boba well remembered your curvy form as it was pressed flush to him on the floor of the tower. How your hands had softly touched his face. He wouldn't have even noticed the cut had you not said anything. No he was far to distracted by how gently you acted, how your eyes didn't look on him in fear. How even now you seemed more flustered than genuinely afraid. When Krrsantan had ran from the tower you stayed with him, again asking if he was hurt. The whole journey down the stairs you had stayed close to him, squeezing his hand at every little bump. It stroked his ego being your protector, even if only for a few moments.

Fennec had teased him for glancing too long as you had moved about the dinning room, serving food and drink while offering your thoughts. Then there was her amused eye roll at his reaction when you left to collect the belongings that had finally arrived. It seemed you didn't own much, a few bags and a trunk at most. Skad had teased you about his back hurting from the weight only for you to remind him who was making diner and that it was something he enjoyed. You didn't snark or threaten, just keeping your voice firm and even to remind the pup who was in charge.

It was that same tone that you had used throughout the meeting, keeping the peace while also pointing out deficiencies. You were smart and direct, giving a working list of the immediate needs. You knew many of the city's dealers and craftsmen and also demonstrated a firm grasp of the groups that ran the different sectors of the city as well as the local officials. For a simple cook you were proving anything but.

There was a certain air about the you that Boba couldn't quite place; confident yet reserved, calm yet strong. Then there was the quality of your work; not only was the food excellent, but the presentation of each dish was flawless down to the garnish and sauces. Clearly you were not a product of the sands, you had honed your craft off world. You were a puzzle, one that he couldn't seem to place, which was all the more reason that he had Fennec observe you closely. Leaning on his throne in contemplation the question remained, “Who are you Kaylee Manu?”

Boba watched as his second in command strode into the throne room, stopping to pour a drink. He waited, tapping the arm of the throne in thought. “Anything to report?”

Fennec played with the cup in her hand, “She knows her city I'll say that. Every place that we ordered from happily handed our orders over, especially when Kaylee's name came up.”

“That bothers you?”

“No, quite helpful actually. Something Garsa Fwip told me though...” Thinking over the information Fennec debated again telling Boba. She had seen much in her time both good and bad. Not much bothered her, couldn't afford it in this line of work. Most hunters had a code that they followed, certain things that were off the table. But there were always some scum out there that ignored such things. Taking another swig of the spotchka she half sat on the steps. “Seems our chef has made a few people angry, people who would like very much to see her gone. Including Mok Shaiz.”

“Oh she has?” Boba watched Fennec nod, “and what did she do to incur such wrath?”

“It would appear our esteemed Mayor was in business with Bib Fortuna. In exchange for his tribute Fortuna would rid the streets of it's excess citizenry, the troublemakers. According to Garsa they weren't particular about who... or how young.” Fennec heard the creaking leather of gloves as Boba flexed out of anger. “A few of the citizens helped to hide people, especially the kids. Fed them, looked after the ones whose families were killed as an example.”

Boba glanced to the entry where Skad was speaking with Nitro and Nakita, “The Mods...”

“Among others, Garsa has been protecting her till now,” Fennec had seen the good will that just your name incurred, that was worth more than credits. Working for a crime boss could get messy though, like the other night. Still if Boba was determined to be a Daimyo and not just another crime lord having someone like you around would be invaluable. “Everyone we visited would appreciate it if Kaylee were kept safe.”

“Hmm brave little thing,” He tilted his helmet in the direction of the palace apartments, “not many would have done that.”

“Not many would have kept doing it after having their business burned out from under them and left for dead.” Fennec could hear Boba growl from under the helmet. “Should I ask around?”

Turning back to the master assassin he gave a curt nod. Someone betrayed those who tried to protect the people of this city and Boba wanted to know who. If they still lived their days were numbered. No one would harm the people, much less children in Mos Espa ever again. As to your circumstance things like this usually resulted from greed or anger, someone had broken trust among the good Samaritans. Trust was a dangerous thing, it could kill if misplaced or was a powerful ally when well invested. He trusted Fennec and had been repaid well for that.

The question was what had made you trust enough to stay here? Especially when you had suffered so in the past? Boba could not see how he had earned such a privilege, but he would not squander it. “You can let them all know that Miss Manu is under my protection.”

“I already did.” Fennec studied the bottom of the empty cup, wondering what kind of strength it must take to be kind in a cruel world, to stand against the corruption that rotted a place like this and remain. Not many would have made your choice, nor endured the consequences with such grace. Fennec had seen first hand when she had helped treat your injury earlier. You had looked back at her with a grin saying, "Our lives are what we choose to make of it." Fennec knew fate to be a fickle thing, so was luck. Then again this whole Palace was filled with beings whom defied the odds.

Tags:

@rain-on-kamino @daimyosprincess @pickleprickle @acatalystrising @kimiheartblade