#I can't believe this is my first post with Luna

[lunalycana]

What is actually wrong with him?

Dialogue from this post

[thefirstknife]

My grimoire arrived and I'm in shambles. Partners in Light, aka a grimoire focused on Ghosts and Ghost lore. Ghost Stories is in here, and Lucent Tales. Luna's Lost as well, chosen lore tabs about Targe, Ophiuchus, Drifter's Ghost and Glint. There's a whole section about Sagira, which includes the entirety of Immolant and has destroyed me. Some stunning art from the book:

Ghost rezing us for the first time (this one was also recently posted by the artist)! Also yes, Thin Line lore tab is here as well. Next, from Ghost Stories, Cyrell the Ghost Hunter and YES, GHOST COMMUNITY THEATRE ART:

Eris and Brya (I'm in shambles), Zavala and Targe, Ikora and Ophiuchus:

Drifter and his Ghost (specifically the scene where he's dying of starvation, as you'll notice the scorpion by his feet, from here. Thank you for this emotional destruction):

The first Vanguard squad (portions of The Pigeon and the Phoenix are included), as I do believe the Hunter is supposed to be Tallulah, based on the fact that you can see The Bombardiers, her exotic pants (also I believe the bow on her back is Tyranny of Heaven, with lore of how she died):

Crow and Glint from the lore when he visits Venus:

I already posted the other Crow and Glint art because it was posted officially by the artist, I really can't wait for the rest to also be posted digitally because they're absolutely incredible. There's also more art in there, I only posted a few.

[romanoffsbish]

Shelter me From the Storm

Actress!Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Stripped Bare (Part 1) / Two people asked for this and I already had the ideas so boom. 😂

Warnings: Loss of Parent / Grief. Post-Partum Depression (Not mentioned, but heavily implied—hygiene/eating struggles, struggle to bond/help). Media (Implied lack of respect for Sex Work).

Smut: Soft | Daddy (N) | Nat has a penis | Oral (Both) | Fingering | Overstimulation | Squirting | Unprotected / Breeding | Cockwarming (Plugging)

18+ | Minors DNI | Please Don’t Report, it’s labeled properly.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Natasha's raspy voice startled you, but it also soothed your aching soul. It'd been exactly two months since the two of you moved to Oregon to officially start your life together. "My mom, us, them."

The redhead nodded solemnly, worried eyes casted down onto your fidgeting hands. She settled down beside you on the porch swing, and took your freezing hands between hers. Gently as ever she kissed, and breathed onto them until she deemed them warm enough.

"You couldn't have worn mittens?" She teased, then her strong arms wrapped around your body so she could pull you into her lap. Her forehead leaned against yours as she tried her best to comfort you. It was you who broke the distance and pressed your lips to hers for a kiss that reminded you that you were really there.

——

You were still alive, even if your mom wasn't. The thought broke you, this idea that Apollo and Luna would grow up without her love.

"I miss her," you sniffled, and the redhead sighed empathetically, "Me too moya lyubov'."

A smile graced your face at the memories of Nat with your mom. They'd only known one another for a little over a year, but your wife stole your mother's heart instantly. The sick woman never missed a chance to talk to her, even if it involved interrupting your convos.

They had a pure love of you in common, so it was easy for them to spend hours talking. It warmed your heart, but also infuriated you to no end when your mom shared your secrets.

Natasha never needed to know about your failed prom, or about how you believed in Santa and his friends until sophomore year.

The redhead loved to tease you about it, even now, "Who else will tell me all your secrets?"

"Thank fuck that's over," you sadly joked, because embarrassing as it was, you'd let your mother release all of your most embarrassing moments in life if it meant she was still here.

"Ooh, What about Cole?"

You snorted, "Not if he wants to stay alive."

"You're no fun."

Silence soon fell over the both of you as you watched the rain harshly pelting down. The pavement, and dirt saturated in no time as mother nature wept, you weren't sure of her reason, but you liked to think it was for your mom. She loved the rain, it never presented as an inconvenience to her like it did for others, you remember chasing the rainbows with her.

Losing her was polarizing really. It was always coming, but you were never prepared for it.

All that really brought you comfort since she passed, was that she met your daughter first.

Luna Romanoff, the little girl with your wife's cheeky smile, and your mothers love for music.

At only ten months old she was a little rockstar. The xylophone was her go to instrument, it made you feel like your mom's name as her middle prophesied their clear connection. They had met, then five hours later your mom died.

Natasha took care of everything after, she still does some days when you can't manage. You usually feel bad, but every time she senses it, and reminds you that there's nothing else she'd rather be doing than caring for her family.

"I'm going to miss you too," you finally broke it, voice cracking as your emotions got the best of you. "I wish you didn't have to leave at all."

"Me neither," Nat replied in the same tone, a tear slipped down her face as she stewed over her departure this evening. Leaving you in such a vulnerable state wasn't easy, but she hadn't a choice as she had to do a slurry of interviews for her upcoming film, as well as clear the air on her sudden disappearance from Hollywood.

It was the only way the execs would let her off the hook for the premiere. The buzz from her interviews will give them enough scandalous PR. Especially when she announces this will be her last film for a long while. The seats will fill.

She'd pleaded for zoom interviews, but even being as big as she was, they wouldn't budge.

"I wouldn't go if I had a choice," she reminded you for the umpteenth time. "I know Natty."

"It just sucks," she voiced your thoughts.

You chuckled humorlessly, "Majorly."

The sudden sound of a cry through the baby monitor brought you and your wife out of your bubble of intermixed grievances, and right into the house where you found a shocked Apollo hovering over Luna's traveling bassinet.

Five minutes ago they were peacefully napping, one in a heap of blankets and toys, while the other was cozy in her bed. It was safest not to move your son, he'd have woken up lively.

Where he lays, he stays—a household motto.

The scene was clear as day, he'd climbed up onto the couch with a devious curiosity, and now it appears the young boy had slapped her.

Natasha swiftly moved to the side of the couch, stopping your son from repeating the offense with a gentle catch of his hand. With ease she scooped the boy onto her hip, then she lovingly reached down to smooth a hand over your daughters face. Her cries stopped instantly.

After your daughter was soothed you watched quietly as Natasha handled your son. Her look was stern, but her eyes were still adoringly soft. There was no true harm done, it was clear Luna was mostly just shocked, not genuinely hurt.

Plus, he's only two, this was like a canon event.

"Apo," she called his attention to her with the nickname derived from his inability to say his. "You have to be gentle," she softly reminded him, using her hand to mimic proper touch as she continued to brush her hand over your daughters face until she was sleeping again.

Apollo butchered the word as he repeated it, but he mimicked her perfectly. Tiny hands covered in god knows what reached out to cup her face, something he'd seen done before. Both of your hearts beamed at the boy for his slow, but steady understanding. This would probably happen again, from both ends, but you knew that it would be an easy resolution.

Natasha's gentle approach to the kids was a surprising discovery you'd made. Not that you expected her to be downright cruel, but you just expected more sternness from your former experiences. But then you remember the Natty that you'd loved was always there back then too, and then it all makes sense. The first time you witnessed it was when your infant son was playing with an extension cord. You wanted to run over and rip it from his hands, but she'd stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

Instead she walked over to him, created some static electricity with her hands then tapped his. It seemed almost cruel, but then she picked him up as he wailed, then that soon faded into hiccups and it all became clearer to you.

He'd wanted her attention all along, and she taught him a valuable lesson in the process.

The gentleness came right after, when she held him close while she hummed a Russian lullaby to soothe him. All the while pointing to the enticing cord and saying a simple, firm no-no.

You remember watching them fondly, with a smile on your face, a hand on your bump, and a subtle sense of relief that'd washed over you.

No matter what came, you knew you'd all be safe with Natasha. Parenting was a learning curve, without your mom to guide you you've lost it, but you felt like she'd had it mastered.

That's why after the night slowly crept in you anticipated the arrival of your little brother. He's flying in from New York, and should be to your house by 8:30pm, and Nat has to be gone by 9pm, or she knows she'll never make it.

Apollo had already gone down for the night, but Luna Bear was still a live wire. Bouncing on her mama's hip while haphazardly shaking her head side to side in a tiring game of 'no-no'

"Wow, you've gotten so big Lunar Eclipse," your brother greeted the giggling baby, who turned to him with a wide, curious smile. Natasha sent him one as well at the relief she felt since she no longer had to shake her head.

"Luna," you corrected with a fixed glare. "I've been meaning to ask you about that sis."

"Cole," you warned through gritted teeth, and for the first time Natasha had realized the help she planned might actually be the bother.

"Why would you name your kids like animals?"

Natasha glared at your brother just the same, coddling the baby into her chest with a hand over her ear to shield her from hearing him

"You're the most annoying person on Earth," you deadpanned, he gasped in offense. "Give me the cat, and say your sappy goodbyes."

Natasha's arms around your waist stopped you from chasing your cackling brother down as he took your giggling daughter into the house.

"Don't leave me with him," you pleaded. "I won't look good in an orange jumpsuit Nat."

Natasha snorted softly, "You're so dramatic." Then she leaned in to kiss you slowly, a bunch of unspoken words being exchanged: 'I'm only a call away,' 'Don't kill your brother, please,' and 'Seriously, call me if you need me,' but the most important of messages came tumbling from your very own parted lips, "I love you."

Natasha smiled against you, she instantly repeated the sentiment, "I love you too Y/N. With all of me. You'll be okay detka. Promise."

The driver honked impatiently, and you fought off the urge to flip them off. Natasha rolled her eyes as she saw the petty conflict behind yours. "I'll be back in three sleeps sweetheart, you take care of yourself while I'm gone please."

Natasha sighed as she saw you bite your lip, a nervous habit of yours she'd become familiar with. You never wanted to disappoint Natasha, but you felt like you always were when you couldn't even manage the mundane tasks.

"It's hard, I know it is," she sympathized with your newfound wave of inability. "But eat, drink water, and sleep whenever possible."

"I'll try," you whisper against her chest as she hugs you close for a final moment. "That's all I ask moya lyubov, you deserve to be nourished."

"Three days," you whispered, your eyes shut tight as you reeled in your emotions. You could break down when she made it onto the road.

"Then there'll be no more leaving, we got this."

"Safe travels Natty." You kissed her cheek, then made the move to slip from her grasp, knowing all too well that she wouldn't willingly let go.

As you entered the house she watched, making her driver more irritated but she didn't care. His paycheck was signed by her, therefore his patience was paid for. She watched closely and nearly broke down when she saw a little Luna crying as her hands slammed into the window.

It was strange, how the ten month old could understand the implications of her mother in the car, and it hurt the woman's aching soul.

Once you locked the door, and scooped your daughter up she told released a breath and told the driver he could take off as she sent off a worried text to Cole, begging him to keep an eye on you like he promised her he would.

Then she sat back and began to count down the milliseconds until she could return to you.

—

The following morning came with a wake up Facetime call, your wife waited until it was 9am your time, then spent hours virtually cuddling. Around 12pm she bid you farewell, as it was 3pm in New York, her interview was for 6pm, but with makeup and wardrobe it was time.

It was live, so at 3pm you'd ensured the babies were already down for a nap, and settled onto the couch in some clean pajamas with your emotional support water bottle, and chips.

Natasha looked beautiful as she crossed the stage, with practiced elegance she flashed her award winning smile, and you swooned. It felt like it was directed at you, and with it being your Natasha you realized it probably was.

They discussed the movie, it was a smooth interview, until the hot topic, you, came up.

"So, tell me Natasha, who's the mystery girl?"

Natasha instantly grimaced, but quickly shook the expression for one of happiness. "My wife."

"Wife, huh?" He chuckled nervously, you both saw a question on his mind designed to send you spiraling. "Fans across the globe really thought you'd end up with Wanda Maximoff."

Natasha breathed harshly through her nose, it took all of her patience to remain composed.

"Wanda is nothing more than a lifelong friend." Natasha cooly replied. "Who's happily engaged, need I remind you, to The Vision Stark."

"Hindsight is 20/20," he jested awkwardly.

"Mhm," Natasha hummed, not even humoring the man with a response as she watched him fumble through his note cards for more. She smiled, it was perceivably smug, and made you feel something you'd yet to in almost a year.

He took a steadying breath before his face relaxed, then he continued his futile attack.

"I have it on good authority that your wife, Y/N Y/L/N." Natasha cut him off, "Romanoff."

"Sorry," he replied annoyedly, "We've been informed that Y/N Romanoff was a stripper."

Natasha nods thoughtfully. "Is there a question there, or are we just stating useless facts. If so, I'd like to inform you your tie is on wrong."

Your eyes widened, in all your years of knowing of Natasha, you'd never seen her so snarky. It was really hot, and you truly couldn't deny it.

"I guess, if it wasn't obvious," he starts shakily, as if he feared the 5'3 redheaded woman. "The world is wondering if that's how you met."

"Well, the honest answer is yes." The audience gasped, she rolled her eyes behind her lids knowing they were likely prompted to do that for shock value alone. "I know right? How shocking that rich people still go to strip clubs."

Her eyes then narrowed onto the nervous host. "As if you yourself aren't a regular Johnny."

"Jimmy," he timidly corrected and she laughed. Boy did she laugh, it was mocking, and had the man sweating through his shirt. "My apologies, so tell me Jimbo, does your wife know what happens during the actual late nights? We both know this show is mislabeled. It ends by 7pm, but your life is only just beginning then right?"

The raven haired man gulped, it was clear Nat was prepared for his intrusive questioning. You caught sight of Natasha's sideways smirk just as the show cut to a commercial, and when it returned your wife was no longer there. Cole snickered from beside you, "Mom would have loved to see this, God, I adore your wife Y/N."

You hummed your agreement, then left him to tend to the crying babies while you answered your wife's phone call. She was panicking, but you reassured her that it'll be okay. That her die hard fans wouldn't leave, and that with the progressive nature of Hollywood that she'd likely receive accolades for her honesty, and her overall support of the sex work industry.

Even if you both knew it wasn't a guarantee, Natasha couldn't help but to believe you. In the end, if this is where her career ended she didn't mind. She had more than enough money to retire, and she still would have her business.

Natasha ended the call after you'd calmed her as she had more interviews to prepare for.

It felt fulfilling being there for her, helping her through a freak out for once instead of it being the other way around. You knew it wasn't a competition, but it's hard to think otherwise when it's always you on the visibly weaker end.

There was a renewed confidence in your step now, and it showed when you fixed lunch for the whole house instead of letting Cole. You'd ushered him off to play with the kids, and got comfy with the concepts of cooking again.

—

When the next day came you got to hear from Nat sporadically. She told you all about her day, the highlight apparently came when she got to answer fan's questions while playing with cats. You rolled your eyes, knowing now that she'd be insufferable until you finally said yes to her taking in the stray kittens that lived amongst Wanda's garden. The brunette wanted to take them to a shelter a week ago, but Nat told her she'd win you over soon enough.

She begged again before she got off the call, and she was right, because that evening you sent her a picture before she went to sleep of a relieved Wanda on your doorstep with a box.

Natasha called you on the verge of tears, she'd only hung up the phone an hour ago so she could take a shower and get ready for bed. It was only 4pm for you, and 7pm for her, but she had an early morning interview before she was then meant to catch an afternoon flight home.

So, after she thanked you profusely, she settled down in her bed, and you on the couch as you pulled up her most recent interview done with Clint Barton. An actor turned talk show host.

He was also her very best friend, so of course she gave him the tell all story others wanted.

"So Natasha," Clint started with a teasing smirk. "Mhm?" She hummed playfully, her eyes softly rolled as a smirk overtook her face.

"When do I get to meet my niece and nephew?"

"Whenever you catch a flight out to Oregon."

"That's right," he bounces off her seamlessly, "You made the bold move to the Beaver state, what is in Oregon that's not in LA or NYC?"

"Peace," she answered simply. "It's gorgeous, and it's where my love wanted to end up."

Clint smiled, it was incredibly genuine as he admired the lovesick one your wife wore. The man has yet to meet you, but he plans to hug you tightly in silent thanks for changing her life for the better and making her this happy. He's watched her through every phase, the partying, all the meaningless hooking up, to the present.

Where she is outwardly softer, but as expected she is still guarded where she needed to be.

"Your love," he acknowledges, a slight tease to his tone as he met her eyes again. "Why don't you tell me all about who's taking you from us."

Natasha glared at him, but it was a playful way, that she agreed to, to ease her into her purpose for this interview. "You know Clint, I've been acting ever since I was a kid," she thoughtfully began, "It's all I've ever known honestly. It's been my greatest passion for three decades."

She took in a steadying breath, then sighed while wearing a shy smile, "It wasn't until I met her that I envisioned more for myself," her cheeks reddened at the thought of exposing herself in such a vulnerable way to the world.

Acting, telling others stories, was what she did best, but it felt foreign to tell her own like this.

With her eyes closed she imagined your smile, then she heard the memory of your kids giggles and suddenly it was the easiest decision. "Y/N is my light at the end of the tunnel, truthfully."

Clint nodded proudly, leaning back in his seat to metaphorically open the floor up to her.

"I know the world is already freaking out, some angry that I'm off the market, others mad that she's a former stripper, but I don't know why any of that matters to them." Natasha frowned as she tried not to cry. "People are saying my career will end with this, and to those people I say good fucking riddance. I've given almost every last piece of me to this industry, and if me finally choosing my happiness is a problem then I'll let it be for only them. I'm happier than I've ever been, and that is my truth."

"So, you're leaving Hollywood behind?" He asked for clarity, and she shook her head in a partial negation. "I have decided to take a step back, this upcoming film is going to be my final for an indefinite amount of time. I want to focus on my family, and I deserve a break."

"That you do Natasha," Clint acknowledged, behind him on a screen a slideshow of all of her hit movies began to appear. Emphasizing the focus of conversation. "If you retired today I'd say that you've left your mark on the world, even more so with those beautiful babies."

"They are my entire world." Natasha clarified, they were her legacy, sure, but they were so much more than that too. They were a perfect mixture of you both. Apollo with her distinctive eyes, and your sweet smile. Then Luna with her smile, and dimples and your huffy temper.

Both with their own blooming personalities.

The redhead smiled brightly when a photo then flickered on the screen of your little family. The four of you were sat on a park bench, Apollo stood on her lap with his hand pointing to something behind her, she had smiled at the camera, but her eyes focus was torn between him and the phone. Then sat beside her was you, with a blanket over your chest, shielding the hungry baby from the harsh Fall winds.

It was meant to be a cute family photo, and it still was, but far more dysfunctional than intended. Natasha had tried to get Apollo to turn around, but he wouldn't take his eyes off of the firetruck in the back. Then Luna cried, and it was clearly hunger so you let her latch on, and even then it could've been cute, but then she grunted angrily so you covered her.

"You guys look happy," Clint acknowledged, and the woman smiled fondly. "We are."

"Well, I hope that in a few years time we'll be able to see you back on the screen," Clint moves to wrap up the segment. "But if we don't, then I'd like to dedicate a moment of silence to the greatest loss in the industry."

"Oh stop it," she joked tearily, leaning forward to playfully shove his shoulder. Clint winked at the emotional redhead, then he yanked her up and into a bear hug. "Tell Y/N I look forward to meeting her," he whispered, then he planted a kiss on her cheek, and she left the stage with a chorus of loud applause following her.

You turned the TV off, then wiped at the few tears that she'd elicited from you. Seeing her so vulnerable on TV, all in an attempt to make the media go easier on you, was overwhelming. It made your heart swell with more love than before and you couldn't quiet grasp how you could even love her more than you already did.

It also made you want her more than you did yesterday. No longer was it a feeling you could ignore, but instead a deep seeded need you'd had every intention of satiating upon your wife's return. Which is why you rebooked your brothers flight home, and reminded him about that one time you covered for him when he rear ended your evil neighbor Mildred's parked car.

—

The last thing Natasha expected to find as she entered your house late at night was you. But on the couch you sat, with a glass of red wine, and in a matter of seconds you were on her.

"Moya lyubov' I said drink water," she groaned, but it was a humored one. You looked up at her with wide eyes, then you smiled innocently. "Would you believe me if I said that Jesus showed up and magicked it himself?"

"Oh, is that so?" She cackled in a hushed way, you nodded vehemently. "Scouts honor Natty!"

"Mhm?" She teasingly hummed, the vibrato felt as she pressed her lips to yours, and you gasped affectedly. Natasha tried to pull back, feeling guilty for looking like she was trying to initiate anything, but then she felt guilty for feeling guilty because of course she wants you.

"No," you whimpered and clung to her biceps. "Daddy please, I-I'm ready." You were wet, desperation was controlling your mind now.

"You're drunk detka," she pointed out, but you showed her the bottle, proving that you'd only poured the one glass and hadn't had more than two sips. Which was only for liquid courage.

"What's changed for you?" Natasha pulled you down into her lap, you whined in frustration, but then you saw the glossy viridescent orbs full of concern waiting for your reply.

"Seeing you lose your cool on TV over me was hot," you admitted shamelessly, stroking her big ego in the hopes that it'd soon be her cock.

The redhead blushed, but quickly regained her cool as she leaned back into the cushion of the couch and firmly gripped your thighs apart.

"Can I see how hot it made you detka?" Her raspy voice made you dizzy, you nodded and moaned a soft please so she eagerly padded at the wetness seeping through your panties. "Oh look at you detka, you're just so needy, huh?"

She cursed in Russian when you answered with a buck of your hips. With a swift hand she laid you down and said, "You have to be quiet."

You shook your head. "I reminded Cole of a secret I kept, so he collected the kids and all they'd need and went to the guest suite."

"I knew I married a genius," she teased, her heart nearly exploded as you laughed. It'd been so rare to hear nowadays, so it was cherished.

"What do you want moya lyubov'?" Natasha looked deep in your eyes, wearing a smile that said only your pleasure was enough for her.

Instead of answering you pulled her down with a hand wrapped behind the nape of her neck. The kiss was soft, almost exploratory as it'd been so long since you'd had a spike in libido. But when Natasha still remained timid you took the initiative, your hand cupped her bulge, and you slid your tongue over her bottom lip.

She gasped and your tongue pushed beyond her lips, but hers expertly swirled around yours then darted down your throat. As you gagged she couldn't fight off the aching need so she pushed down into your hand and moaned.

The redhead pulled away, panting heavily as she tried to reel her neediness in. You drove her body wild, but she didn't want to get too lost in the lust if you weren't ready yet.

"You've been so patient with me," you purred, "Let me take care of you daddy, please?"

Natasha suddenly stilled, her sorrowful eyes set on  yours. "Hey no, detka, you deserve endless patience without expectations."

"Yeah, I know," you breathed. "But we went from having sex every few days to not at all."

Natasha smiled tenderly, her hand cupped your cheek. "That's fine, I don't need sex to be happy with you Y/N. You alone are enough."

"Well, that sentiment is returned, but I'm absolutely serious, so let me give you head."

Natasha was shocked by your bold words, it was a quick recovery though as she snorted, "If I ever say no, please do have me committed."

Natasha smiled triumphantly as you giggled, it always made her heart warm to hear your joy.

The mood swiftly returned to one of lust when after she leaned back you slid out and onto the ground on your knees. The woman was tired, jet lagged to be more precise, but that didn't stop her from helping you take her sweats off.

Natasha was undeniably aroused, her cock stood tall as soon as you slid her boxers off.

"You gonna stare all night detka?" Natasha teased, then her eyes softened. "If you're not ready, just say the word lyubov', it'll be okay."

You shook your head free of worry, and smiled at her for being so sweet. It was comically endearing. Here she sat with an erection that had to be hurting her at this point and she only cared about your comfort. Which actually only made you even more excited to suck her off.

Natasha groaned, the sound raspier than ever before as you traced your tongue over the veins of her cock. Her hands gripped the cushions of the couch as your lips wrapped around her tip, and she nearly came on the spot as your hands steadily pumped up from the base of her cock as your other hand lazily played with her balls.

Her breathing became increasingly labored as you bobbed your head up and down her length, you could feel yourself dripping down your thighs as you'd gone commando beneath her sleep shirt. Hearing just how much she was enjoying this had immeasurably turned you on.

Natasha's hips involuntarily jerked. "Oh fuck." You giggled around her shaft, the vibrations making her do it again, and this time you'd choked. Universal instant karma you suppose.

Natasha stilled, fearful eyes looking down into yours. "I'm okay," you immediately said after gasping for air upon releasing her cock, you didn't move far though, you instead hovered her tip with a goofy smile for hopeful clarity.

"Are you close?" You asked, but with how her shaft continued to twitch beneath your fingertips you'd figured you had your answer. Natasha nodded, it was uncharacteristically shy and you found yourself wanting more soft sensual moments just like this one with her. 

"Good." You mused. "Now how about you take over and cum down my throat as a reward."

The way you winked made the pit within her begin to unravel, Natasha's tip instantly coated in pebbles of white as you took over half of her length into your mouth, and proceeded to let her fuck your throat until it was raw. Your nails dug into the skin of her thighs that you were gripping for stability as she thrusted wildly, and glorious tears ran down your warm cheeks.

When she released down your throat the pleasure was blinding, her eyes slammed shut and she moaned for a prolonged moment as the hot spurts didn't stop. Strands of her cum slid down your chin along with your drool as she continuously thrusted until that wave of pleasure she was riding came to an end. 

While you both caught your breath you began to get handsy, impatiently pulling at the hem of her shirt until she removed it with a huff of amusement. You then kissed up her body until her cock was trapped against her abdomen by your slippery cunt, and your lips met hers.

Natasha's hands fell to your hips instinctually, and she guided you as you slowly ground into her, letting her tongue explore your mouth. When you whimpered with need she pulled back and you were met with dark, lusty eyes.

"I know you want me inside detka," she teased as she ran a thumb over your swollen lip that was still somewhat coated in her essence. "But daddy's missed your pussy in more ways than one, and I can't help but to need to taste you."

"Please," you whispered affectedly, and she pulled you back in for a deep, heartfelt kiss. "Thank you detka, lay down for daddy now."

Natasha removed your shirt seamlessly as you laid down, the fabric had barely left your skin before you felt her hands all over your body. One second they were gripping you by the hips to keep you from bucking into her face, then they no longer cared as they sought out your breasts. Natasha's tongue flicked over your bundle of nerves just as her thumbs pinched your nubs, and your body writhed as you came.

The orgasm you experienced was intense as the aftershocks continued rolling through you, and in retrospect it was also embarrassingly quick. But it'd been so long and Natasha was just that good, she never struggled to get you to let go.

Every muscle in your body relaxed for all of two seconds, but then the redhead continued to lavish away at your cunt. Cleaning up your arousal, but then delving even deeper to pull another, somehow more intense orgasm from the depths of your soul. Stars bloomed behind the lids of your eyes as you screamed her title.

Over and over again too. Natasha was like a woman starved as she refused to leave her place between your thighs. When you tried to shimmy away she growled, it was terrifying, but in the best way as you involuntarily gushed.

You knew that if you really needed her to stop you could say your safe word, but as much as you felt overstimulated you felt just as good.

"Fuck I missed this," Natasha moaned as she continued to lick at your glistening, puffy cunt. "If I could, I'd never leave this sacred spot."

You were cognitively incapable of a verbalized response besides the occasional, pitiful whine.

Natasha admired your fucked out face briefly before turning your whimpers into loud moans as she wrapped her lips around your clit, and sucked harshly as she suddenly filled you with three of her skilled fingers, that now curled delicately into your g-spot with every thrust.

Tears streamed down your temples, matting your hair to your face, and seeping into the cushions of your couch. You came with a yelp this time, cum absolutely drenching the couch and leaving Natasha in awe. You however were hardly able to breathe, or see as the tears made your sight bleary. This was when your hands flew into her hair, tangling up in the locks as you used all your remaining strength to pull her up to your lips in a redirecting manner.

Natasha kissed you sloppily, her fingers now coming to a stop as she understood your silent pleas. Slowly, after distracting you with a swirl of her tongue around yours, she pulled out. You whined lowly at the loss, but your body appreciatively deflated into the cushions, and while you worked to calm down she began to kiss all over your skin in a calm, soothing way.

"We should go get you cleaned up lyubov'," she murmured against the skin of your neck that she'd been nibbling, your breathing had finally returned to an evened rhythm. "No, please."

Natasha pulled back to look you over, she was shocked to see your eyes desperate for more.

"Are you sure detka?" You frantically nodded, "Yes, fuck, I want you to fill me so bad daddy."

Natasha pressed her lips to yours, and slid her throbbing member into your slick cunt without a hitch. Neither of you were going to last long, and truthfully neither of you needed to. There was already stars where the ceiling once was as your lover pounded into your sloshing cunt.

"Gonna fill you to the brim detka," she moaned against the shell of your ear. "Can't wait to see your beautiful belly grow with my baby again."

Her breaths were hot as they fanned across your twice as hot skin. Every grunt she released brought with it a reactive clench of your walls, and it drove the woman atop of you insane.

Natasha came with a silent scream, her load unleashing havoc on your abused walls, you were a moaning mess as she slammed into your g-spot repeatedly as she chased this glorious high, milking it for all it's worth and herself as well in the process. When she came to a stop, and pulled out of you she gasped.

The amount of cum that oozed out of you was jarring at first inspection. Natasha had never released this much in her life, she's almost certain it's impossible for that much to exist inside a person at once but she just rationalized it as a delayed release for the year without sex.

There was no way you wouldn't get pregnant.

Especially not after Natasha thrusted back inside of you, mumbling something about preserving the chance that made you chuckle.

"Are you prepared for a third baby?" You teased your wife, with a hand mindlessly running through her hair as she laid with her face pressed against your chest. "I once told you detka, I'd make you my breeding bitch."

You cackled, chest shaking beneath her head to the point that she had to lift up and narrow her eyes at you. "I'm not sure why that's funny, but yes, I'm prepared for whatever life brings. With you by my side I'd willingly raise a dozen kids."

Natasha smirked when your humor died away, eyes wide with fear until she finally took over laughing for you. "God, you looked so scared."

You scoffed, "I was. That's a lot of c-sections." Natasha pursed her lips in thought, then she shrugged her shoulders. "Not if we have twins."

"We'll leave the twins to Maximoff," you soon decided over a yawn. "I think two more is fine."

Natasha leaned down to kiss your lips. "Two more sounds perfect. A simple family of six."

"There's nothing simple about you Natasha."

"Yet you love me anyways." You could hear the insecurity in her tease, and it hurt your heart to think someone ever made her feel unlovable. "That I do." You gently guided her lips to yours, kissing her slowly before you guided her face back to the crook of your neck. "Very much."

Neither of you spoke another word, you just laid there soaking in the warmth of your love before slipping off into a restful nights sleep.

The first in a long time actually, and the last genuine one before Raven and Leo arrived. 

——

6,389 Words

Nat's former job: Acting / Y/N's: Stripping

Nat's current job: Breeder / Y/N's: To be Bred

❤️ Kaitlyn. 🤭

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 45

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"How was it, dearie?" Dottie asks as you get in.

You keep your cool. Something about that house dampens your spirits. You look her in the eye grimly and shrug.

"Luna baby missed ya," she chimes, "first time away from ya and all."

"Oh?" You tweak a brow apathetically, "she hungry?"

She sighs, "you're her mama."

You narrow your eyes. She can probably read your thoughts across your face. Yeah, and what about her father?

"I pumped all that milk before I went. I can't feed her now, I had some mimosas," you turn your palms out, "you'll have to start the formula."

"Nothing wrong with that. I sent you out to have fun," she gives a clamped smile, "I got enough for the youngin. She's still nappin'."

"Great," you mutter, "I'm gonna lay down."

"I'll bring her up to ya before I tuck in," Dottie offers.

"Sure," you turn away and drag your feet to the stairs.

Your escape was all too brief. The afterglow fades quickly as you climb up to the second floor. The giddiness of making out with Andy in his backseat dissipates as you're drowned in the gloom of that house.

You go into the guestroom where you've made your nest and undress. You lay under the blankets, in silence, without a light. For once you just want to know where you stand with a man and with Andy it's clear. You both just need to forget about all the shit in your life.

Just two more weeks. You won't have your body back, you don't think you ever will, but you will be able to enjoy it. You didn't realise how much you'd miss intimacy until it wasn't there. Not him, never him, just the feeling of another person against you.

🍑

You sit on the bench and tie your sneaker. You don't feel great. Your hips hurt, your back hurts, and you're tired as hell. Still, you don't want to stay in that house.

You stand up and check the stroller again. The baby's secure and staring at nothing with her glassy eyes. You don't get it. She just lays there, then shrieks, then dribbles down milk and sleeps again.

"Oh, sweetie, you off somewhere?" Dottie comes out from the kitchen.

"Just a walk. Been long enough I can move a bit better," you say casually.

"And you're taking the sweet one with you?"

You hear the hopefulness in her voice. She wants you to love the baby. She wants to believe that child is the one redeeming quality she can claim for her son.

"Yeah, might as well," you say as you turn and grab the stroller, turning it to angle after you as you approach the door.

"You want me to come with y'all?" She asks.

You swallow. Don't show your hand.

"If you want," you say dully.

"Ah, don't let me get in your way," she thinks better of it. "I'll be here."

"Won't be long," you say as you get the door open and back out, carefully pulling out the stroller with you, keeping it even as you roll over the edge of each step.

"It's getting chilly out, you got enough blankets?" She calls after you.

"All good," you assure her.

She watches you go, waving from the porch as you twist the stroller around. You keep an even pace as you head through the gate. You don't want her to see your eagerness. You wait until you're beyond the property to pull out your phone. You rest it on the handle and read the last message from Andy. He's coming.

You don't go very fast. You still feel very much unready. You look down at the baby as she rests her fist against her cheek. Something about her nose reminds you of him...

You shake your head. Don't. You don't want to give him that power. He threw all that out when he disappeared.

As you get to the corner, Andy appears. He wears a dark blue hoodie over a grey tee. He approaches with a smile and peers inside the stroller brightly. He leans in to coo at the baby.

"She's getting big."

"I guess," you utter.

"We're Dot?" He looks down the sidewalk.

You frown. Shit. Did you misinterpret?

"I left her behind. Why--"

"Making sure," he winks and leans in to give you a kiss, surprising you. He hooks his arm around you, holding you to him as he deepens the gesture. You push on his chest until he finally relents.

"Andy," you gasp.

"What? I can't help myself. You look... good," he grins.

"Don't lie," you roll your eyes.

He chuckles, "something about your cynicism is really sexy."

"Okay, now you're being a jerk."

He tilts his head and turns to stand beside you. You fall back into step as you give a cautious glance up and down the street. Who would even care? Lloyd isn't around and even if he was, he didn't chat up the neighbourhood.

You head down towards the park. As you get to the bench, you grab Andy and sit at the outskirts of the grass. You brace your lower back and grunt as he holds onto the stroller and kicks down he brakes.

"You okay?"

"Bad back," you hiss as you lean against the metal backing, "been like this for years."

"Old football injury?" He kids.

"You're funny," you sniff.

"I try," he rolls the stroller back and forth, soothing the baby. "So..."

"So..." you look off towards the playground where parents watch their children scream and run around.

"When do you think you could... sneak out?" He asks, fingers tapping above his knee.

"Um," you can't help a smile, cheeks hot, "when do you--" you stop yourself, "you know I can't... do much for at least another week and a half," you keep your voice low.

"Of course, I wasn't-- I hope you don't think--"

"I know, Andy," you bite your lip and look away, "let's not complicate this. Because it's already fucked up so let's just enjoy it while we can."

He nods and lowers his lashes, "yeah, I can do that. How about... I give you a massage tonight? Promise not to get handsy. Purely practical. Get those muscles loosened up."

You scoff, "I might be able to figure something out."

"I could always come to you," he suggests, leaning in to push his shoulder into you.

"We'll see," you look at the baby. She's fast asleep. Yeah, this isn't going to be easy.

🍑

Andy says goodbye at the corner. You don't need Dottie catching on or making any suggestions. You know at heart where her loyalties lie.

You come up to the house and nearly trip on the wheels of the stroller. You recognise the car in the driveway. Right, good timing.

As you walk along the pavement, the front door opens and Suzanne appears with a glint in her eye, "there you are."

"Suzanne," you greet her breathless, "how are you–"

"So when was I going to find out the baby was here?"

"Um, I've been…tied up."

"Of course you have but Lloyd didn't even mention it," she beams over at the baby, "aw, thank god she doesn't take after him."

"Right, well, I guess he isn't much into sharing his private business–"

"A baby is kinda a big deal. I thought at least he'd take time off."

You stare at her. You try not to show your irritation, "well, you know, he's always been a workaholic."

"Not fucking really. He took one job and cut contact a week ago. It's why I'm here. Thought the fuckwit might be laying low."

"Nope, not here. Just us."

"And Mama Hansen. Yeah, I met her. Just as unbearable as her son," she tuts, "I'll make sure to send his ass home once I find him."

You nod. You don't know how to respond. You're not sure how to lie when your tongue won't work. She watches you and her forehead creases between her brows.

"Alright," she pokes her tongue into her lower lip and clicks, "when's the last time you saw him?"

You just look back at her blankly. Her eyes darken and she grits her teeth. She rests her hand on her hip, shifting her blouse to reveal the butt of a handgun.

"Oh, I've been waiting for this day," she smirks, "Lloyd Hansen, you're fucking dead."

She spins on her heel and storms towards her car. You push the stroller after her, "wait, Suz," you plead, "he's not worth it."

"Yeah," she opens the door, "but you are. You just take care of the pookie bear," she faces you again and makes a face at the stroller, "and I'll send his sorry ass home. Hopefully in one piece."

[yanderehsr]

Your post about the reader with a scar genuinely made me so happy. I got into an accident with a fire work a few years back and the whole left side of my body is covered with burns. It would be awesome if you could do some more ideas with others? (Maybe the express crew)

I'm glad you enjoyed it. To make others feel enjoyment when they read what I write is why I even write in the first place😄

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Clingy behaviour, Kidnapping

Stelle: Will cling herself to you harder when she hears you call yourself ugly, she doesn't want to argue so instead she lets her actions speak for themself, she is silent as she lazily kisses your burn wherever it is, even if that burn is on inappropriate places.

There isn't much of a difference exept Stelle may hug you a bit tighter, hold you a bit more firmly, she can't allow you to see other people, they must have been the ones that put these thoughts into your head, surely without them you will know beautiful you are.

"You want to visit your family, sorry but you can't, I will not allow you to see people who puts such thoughts in your head"

Himeko: She makes sure to kiss your burn every chance she gets, every part of your body is lovely and she wants you to know that as well, don't try to struggle she will hold you down if she has to, she will show you how much she loves you.

There is hardly a day that goes by where you don't have Himeko holding you and kissing you, telling you how dear you are to her, in a way she is trying to manipulate you into thinking like her, that you are the prettiest in the universe.

"Please hold still, you may not believe yourself to be beautiful but I am sure I can change your mind"

Dan Heng: He just loves you so much that when you call yourself ugly he can't help but look at you like you are stupid, what do you mean, how could you ever look at youself like that. He is baffled to say the least

Now hear me out, as Imbibitor Lunae he likes to lick your scars, it is embarrasing to him but his instincts does that to try and heal your scars, in that form Dan Heng will also shut down your self deprication before you have gotten out all the words.

"Nope, you aren't ugly, if you are ugly then the rest of the world must be filled with hideus monsters"

Arlan: He will not let you get close to anyone else, it's because of his fear of them insulting you, he doesn't want you sad and just wants you to believe yourself to be beautiful he makes sure to remind you everyday.

Arlan carries around a necklace with a picture of you inside it, it's the only thing that allows him to get through the day, when he gets tired he just looks at the picture and he gets back the energy to continue.

Arlan dropped the neclace one time and someone asked him who the ugly one was. Let's just say that Arlan made sure that he disappeared, permanently.

"I can't believe my luck to be with you, you are just so perfect, please never leave"

[catscidr]

Could we get some Dottore x escaped experiment reader? Gn if possible, doesn't even have to be smut. I just can't find anything along those lines and I like your writing style :)

i. note — hehehoho i might have uuuhhh used this ask as an excuse to go off a lil and try something new teehee °ᗜ°) but this was really fun to write!! thank you nonnie for the suggestion, and thank you very much for liking my stuff enough to req something!!! i hope u all enjoy ii. includes — dottore, gn!reader iii. cw — unhealthy and toxic dynamics, no dialogue, mentions of cannibalism, mild body horror, one (1) dead body, not quite stockholm syndrome but maybe kinda, reader is a mess and dottore is not a good person (shocker). minors do not interact, age in bio or block. iv. wc — 2k -> posted on ao3 too!

To humans, running is what they do when they’re late to work, when they’re working out, or even when they’re playing games at recess as children. To predators, running is what they do in order to secure their next meal. To prey, running is what they must do so they can escape from the predator’s clutch in one piece, to not end up as a mangled corpse serving as someone or something’s food. 

You have more in common with prey than you have with humans, despite being one yourself. 

It hasn’t always been that way. One moment you were enjoying the warm afternoon sun of your home region out on a walk, and the other you found yourself thrown over someone’s shoulder with a bag over your head. 

You always find yourself reminiscing, yearning to feel the warmth you felt that day— minus the incident. You used to be a model citizen; someone people would rely on. 

A shame no one helped you when you desperately needed it. 

Your own mind is all you’re left with, as you’re clumsily tripping over your feet, rocks scraping your skin and blood trickling down your legs. The feeling is almost peaceful; but after running for so long, and with how often you’ve gotten yourself in this exact situation, you’re starting to second guess your motive for running in the first place. 

Is it a form of entertainment, are you growing bored of the four padded walls engulfing your five senses at all hours of the day that you feel the need to get the energy out of your body like a hamster does by using the wheel in its cage? Is it to leave the predicament you found yourself in after trusting someone you, under no circumstances, should have trusted? 

Or is it because you gradually have come to find yourself sharing more similarities to a dog, begging its owner to even unenthusiastically throw a plastic frisbee for a smidge of attention to fulfill your need to be seen, to be heard, and now you feel the responsibility to own up to that label you inflicted upon yourself? 

The lines between reality and your thoughts have blurred so much it frightens you. 

...Or, rather, it should scare you. After spending so much time in your own head, one would find that it’s surprisingly easy to come to distrust your own mind. You’re not sure if you should believe what goes through your head, even less believe what you feel. But at the same time, you’re all you have. You have no choice but to trust yourself, even when you shouldn’t. 

Only a select few are aware of how dreadfully strong and outright stubborn the human mind can be, whether it be from their own personal experience or from seeing others slip into a state like yours. 

Unfortunately for you, He’s familiar with your situation. Painfully familiar. 

… 

Sometimes you wish you were a luna moth. Delicate and radiant, people would be torn between praising you for your beauty and shunning you away for the crime of looking different than what they’re used to. You wouldn’t be a butterfly, would not conform to what society wants you to be. You would be able to be who you want, look however you want to without worrying over other’s opinions. 

The people that did like you, though, would treat you with care and would do everything in their power to make your stay in this world a pleasant one. A stay that would only last a week. 

Not long enough for you to become familiar with the horrors that await humanity. Seven days filled with nothing but genuine smiles, void of empty promises. 

You’d crawl out of your cocoon, eat good food, find someone to help continue your bloodline, then die somewhere peaceful and hope that your crumbling, decomposing body will bring relief to someone desperately needing something to eat. 

But you’re not a moth. 

… 

It’s unbearably cold when you come to your senses. Peeling your eyes open, you glance around to find yourself surrounded by cold limestone, barely illuminated by the cave’s entrance just a few feet away. The hairs on your skin rise from the wind guiding snow through the passageway, making you curl into yourself in a pathetic attempt to keep your body’s temperature from dropping too low. 

You look down at yourself; your pants are ripped at the hem, and you see messy splotches of brownish red staining the fabric and your skin, going all the way down to your calloused feet. You’re not sure how long you’ve been out for, but it must have been at least an hour given how the bleeding from the numerous scratches and gashes on your legs stopped without any assistance. 

The cave felt completely foreign to you, but even then, it brought you more comfort than He had. Or at least you think it does. 

You feel free. Despite the way your body shivered endlessly from the wind howling into the cavern, despite the dull but searing pain that made it feel like your feet were scorching that traveled up your legs, despite the way you couldn’t move your lips from how dry and cracked they were, split from sheer cold. 

You think this is the most freedom you’ve felt since you’ve gotten yourself stuck in His maw. 

... 

The wind is reduced to a soft, soothing melody when you wake up again. Almost calming enough for you to drift off to sleep a second time, but a nagging feeling in the depths of your gut told you that it was a bad idea to fall unconscious this time around, so you try to shake off the numbness in your limbs instead of succumbing to the call of the void. 

Standing up proves to be a challenge as your legs buckle under your weight. You catch yourself before you fall, holding onto the rough formation of a rogue stalagmite; it’s a struggle to hold yourself up, but at the very least you didn’t give yourself a concussion. 

The pain isn’t completely unwelcome, though. Your feet are throbbing, and the palm of your hand holding yourself up with the help of the stalagmite stings. As you blink the drowsiness away and the blood begins to flow through your limbs correctly again, you straighten your back to take in your surroundings properly. 

The cave’s entrance was filled with thick snow. There was enough that it would reach your stomach should you walk up to it, ignoring the snow that fell into the grotto, and not the snow that partly obscured your way to the outside world. You can’t see much outside, only the faint outline of pine trees wavering in the distance, far enough that you can only barely make out their form. 

Looking away from the blinding whites outside, you notice how utterly desolate the cavern is. Not even a single trace of a life was left behind in this cold, worn hollow. Maybe it’s better this way. You’re not sure you would have appreciated seeing even a wild hare or a fox in here, much less a bear. 

Sitting down on the rocky ground again to give your legs a break, you take a moment to think back to what got you here in the first place. 

You faintly recall rusty medical equipment, convulsing organs, and seeing Him jot down notes. You remember a plate being handed to you, the vague image of a man covered by a stained sheet of what used to be white, and the bile that rose to your throat when your gaze focused on what was on the plate itself. 

Everyone knew the Doctor was a twisted man, but you doubted He was twisted enough to force someone to cannibalize one of their peers. 

Clearly, you were wrong. 

Then, you remember making a mad dash for the thick iron doors of his laboratory. By the grace of god, you were able to leave; and you now found yourself in this desolate cavern, tucked away from civilization. 

As far as you were aware of. 

But you shouldn’t trust your mind. You knew this, yet you also knew not to trust yourself when you told yourself you couldn’t trust yourself. Simultaneously believing in logic and being a mess of paradoxical jargon— it exhausted you to think about. So you try not to. 

Whether by a stroke of bad luck or because of something else entirely, your dull sense of hearing picks up the faint sound of snow crunching beneath boots. Your hands and legs scramble to take you where you can hide as much of yourself as you can behind a rock formation, and you stare out of the cave’s entrance, holding your breath. 

The sound becomes louder. An almost gentle woosh noise accompanies the scrunch of snow, and soon after it stops, you’re able to make out a blurry figure approaching the cave’s entrance. The icy flakes make way for Him at His command, hand waving to get rid of what was keeping you physically separated from Him. 

The pure white snow behind His body glinted off his intricate accessories, the light forming a halo so otherworldly that it left you utterly breathless. 

His boots make a soft clicking noise against the limestone as He steps into the grotto, your safe haven for however long you had been here— now not. Not a single word left His lips as he assessed your rugged appearance. 

You wish He would smite you right then and there. He was most likely able to, and with ease, but you doubt He would willingly discard one of his longest-running experiments for disobeying a rule that you had broken many times before anyways. 

Your jittery gaze follows His movements as He outstretches His arm, offering you a gloved hand, silent. 

Did he know how much you simultaneously trusted and distrusted your own judgement? You stare at His hand, unmoving, heart racing against your ribcage— torn between bolting away, into the darkness of the cave, or intertwining your fingers with His, allowing Him to take you away voluntarily. 

This was mercy either way. You could either die at the hands of whatever lurked in the shadows of the grotto, or you could die at the hands of the man that brought you so much pain it morphed into comfort, solace. He stood, unmoving. Observing you. 

You knew Him well enough to know that He was taking mental notes on your behavior even now, outside of the familiar comfort of his lab in Haeresys. 

Both options were foolish, but you weren’t exactly known to be in the sanest state of mind. 

Pulling your arms away from your body, you bring a shaky hand up to take ahold of His, allowing Him to pull you up to your feet. You almost fall as a result of your nerves, but thanks to His quick reflexes you find yourself tucked in his arms, cheek pressed up against His navy cravat. The hand that wasn’t holding yours comes up to pat your head, gently untangling the knots that had formed in your hair. You melt into His touch, eyes fluttering shut to bask in the warmth He provided. 

As you stand there with Him, knees weak, body upheld by His will alone, you shove down the thoughts that brew in the forefront of your mind. Usually you would welcome the noise, even be grateful that you, at the very least, had yourself to lean on. But you find yourself wishing to lean on Him more than yourself, both literally and metaphorically, keening at the comfort He brought you. 

You knew you couldn’t trust your mind, so why not trust His instead? If you couldn’t rely on your own instincts, judgement or thoughts, then how bad would it truly be to let someone other than you become fully responsible for your wellbeing? 

... 

You were neither a moth nor human.

You were a dog.

[cristalthenarwhalpotato]

Uh so I sorta started making mlp redesigns during Christmas and never really posted any of em but now in hindsight I probably should've-

I designed Twilight first because she's my favorite and also because I wanted to give her the stressed autistic college girl look she deserves. And also she deserves to sparkle after becoming an alicorn dammit

I still can't believe i know how to draw ponies still after so many years-

Also I did rewrite a bunch of lore too, because I can't stop myself from making lore. So basically, Twilight has a bigger connection to Luna because the few episodes with them as a pair were phenomenal and also because like, Twilight is supposed to take on both Luna anf Celestia's roles. So I kinda wanna make Twilight Luna's first real friend after the Nightmare Moon disaster. I got more written but I'll shut up for now lol

Anyways more pony designs will come in time. I am not sorry.

[verosvault]

🚨 SPOILER FOR EPISODE 8 OF BURROW'S END!!!🚨

‼️POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR WHEEZING SOUNDS, FLESH TEAR SOUNDS, SCREAMING/CHITTERING SOUNDS AMONG OTHER UNGRATEFUL NOISES‼️

Dimension20 "Burrow's End"

Episode 8

Timestamp: 1:30:19

Video Length: 3min. & 47sec.

THE TAPESSSS!!! OMGGG!!! WHO WAS THE FIRST TO ATTACK!!! IT SEEMS LIKE THE STOATS WERE FIRST TO ATTACK?!!! THIS IS SO COOL BECAUSE THESE STOATS ARE NOW REALIZING THAT THEY'VE BEEN ON THE BAD GUYS TEAM THIS WHOLE ENTIRE TIME!!! AHHH!!! 😱😱😭😭✋✋

I can't believe Brennan just WALKED OUT AFTER THAT! I THOUGHT SOMETHING HAPPENED TO TULA AFTER THAT! BUT NOPE! IT WAS JUST BRENNAN BEING SHOOK AFTER AABRIA'S DISPLAY AND FEELING BEATEN BY HER AND HER AMAZING PRODUCTION!!! 😂😂🤣🤣💀💀✋✋ THIS IS TRUE FEAR FR!!! EVEN BRENNAN HIMSELF CALLED THIS SCARY!!! 😭😭✋✋ OOF! "NEVERAFTER" WAS A WALK-IN-THE-PARK COMPARED TO THIS SEASON FR! 😭✋ THE TRUE HORROR SEASON LITERALLY!! 😭😭✋✋

------------------------------------------------------

1st Tape: [Wenabocker] "I've actually never used one of these before. How does it- just gotta- Hello, my name is Robert Wenabocker. I'm the lead engineer here at Warren Peace Memorial Nuclear Power Plant. Hey guys, give me five minutes. I just got to log it. The time is currently 18:48, and at approximately 5:17 today, this facility registered a Loss of Coolant Accident in Reactor Charlie. At 11:20, all plant personnel were notified via intercom, and of course- (tape clicks)

2nd Tape: [Wenabocker] Hello, this is Dr. Wenabocker. It is 4/21/62 at 8:11. (repeating alarm sounding) The LOC logged on the 18th has proven difficult. Our structural engineers have noted significant integrity loss surrounding Reactor Charlie. Now, this integrity loss may result in repeated incidents of increased severity if left untreated. We are not doing that. We are handling things now with the repair materials on hand, and we should have this remedied within the we-. (tape clicks)

3rd Tape: [Wenabocker] (alarm continues, even louder) I don't care, I want two teams down there right now! Following on the official urgent materials request submitted. All signs, all signs are pointing to sabotage. This is a matter of national security! If we can't fix this- (tape clicks)

4th tape: [Wenabocker] It is 2:22, two hours post order of a full evacuation of Peace Plant by Director Simms. I stayed behind, since I'd already been um...I stayed in hopes we'd get a call from the outside with some idea on how to avoid a full core meltdown. But the cables on our comms are destroyed. Chewed through. You know, earlier this week, my team joked that evil spirits were behind all of this. As a man of science, you know, I...Hello? (creatures chittering) The facility has been evacuated. You need to- (tape clicks)

5th tape: [Wenabocker] (Wenabocker hyperventilating) (creatures chittering) There are five weasels. I don't know how they're doing it. I don't know what's happening. (glass breaking) No! No! (creatures chittering) (flesh tearing) (Wenabocker wheezing) (Wenabocker gasping for air) They're all so sneaky...

------------------------------------------------------

THIS IS CRAZY INSANE AND I CAN'T BELIEVE ALL THE WORK THAT WAS PUT INTO THIS AMAZING SEASON! CARLOS LUNA DID SUCH A GREAT JOB! AABRIA SLAYS! THIS IS CRAZY AND FANTASTIC!!! DIMENSION20 HAS SUCH A PHENOMENAL CAST AND CREW!!! THEY CAN DO ANYTHING!!! THE SKY'S THE LIMIT HERE FR!!! ✋✋🫶🫶❤️❤️

[kitkatopinions]

Just saw this today

And for the record, I don't know the person who posted this or anything about them or the 'fix-it' thing that they left this on, but I do want to talk about this.

Because never have I ever in all my time following RWBY and being involved in the community ever seen ANYONE not ONE PERSON even someone I've blocked use dialogue like "drain the swamp" in regards to RWBY or "make RWBY great again" just as a first of all. Like this feels like the very definition of 'make up a guy just to get mad at.'

Second of all, how hard to people have to try to justify that their opinion is the Morally Correct One and anyone who doesn't adhere to it is an Evil Heartless Immoral Monster? Doesn't it get tiring? I can't believe I have to say this, but writing fix-it fanfictions???? Is not a 'conservative' or 'liberal' stance????? Whether or not you want to think a cartoon is one hundred percent perfect has nothing to do with what political parties you follow?????? And honestly, this is rich, fucking rich considering A. that one of the founders of Rooster Teeth is like a 'conservative centrist' if I remember correctly lol and one of the prominant anti-Rwde people compared not liking Trump to wanting to murder people lol.

It's just fucking ridiculous. I think I get what this person is trying to say - that venom towards a show with (supposedly) representation for women and specifically queer women is something they affiliate with bigoted Republican Trumpian types. But this is willfully ignoring that a LOT of the people who criticize RWBY are queer people, and/or women, and/or disabled people, and/or people of color, and it's willfully ignoring that the criticism is of a bigoted corporation and writers that are majority cishet men some with trackable histories of bigotry writing for a show that's problematic at best and only somewhat recently has been able to provide the bare minimum in SOME representation. Although I won't speak for all fix-it fics and have had some problems with some RWBY fix-it fics in the past, a lot of people who write fix-it fics for RWBY are intending to make RWBY three times as diverse and have more and better representation. And I am just so fucking sick of the fact that Miles 'Said the N Word as A Twenty Six Year Old' Luna is held aloft along with the likes of Rebecca Sugar or held up higher than her and queer women like me will be compared to TRUMP SUPPORTERS if we dare to say 'actually I think that RWBY could be improved.'

I really wish that I could get a gif of Neku from The World Ends With You saying 'screw that' because that's how I feel. Like honestly, what the fuck is that stance, bro? People need to go touch grass about this RWBY issue before the 'actually it's morally wrong to think a cartoon could be better in any way' mentality infects the entire internet.

[joesquinns]

This gif is shit - sorry for that Since it's Valentine's Day here where I am, I thought of "giving" my favourite fanfic-writers some love because they give us so much love during the whole year with their awesome creations! I refuse to pick fave stories, so I'm going to link to their masterlist instead! So buckle up because this is going to be a long ride...

But first...some warnings:

Warning 1: A lot of the writers mentioned below write RPF!!! RPF stands for Real Person FICTION! It's fiction about a real person!! I repeat, it's fiction! If you're not comfortable with that, then you have to skip those fics.

Warning 2: Almost all the writers I post here have 18+ fics! So please, if you're underage, don't interact with them. Take a look at their warnings and all, and if you find something that doesn't fit you - don't read it! Simple as that! No need to send stupid asshole hate on anon!

Ok, are you ready?

@joejoequinnquinn Kay is my darling, ok? She's such a wonderful and beautiful person and simply perfect and since this perfection isn't enough she can write! Like damn! She has a way to play with words, it makes me feel things I didn't know I could feel. So do yourself a favour and read her stuff, like AND reblog it, and believe me you will be a different person! - Masterlist

@quinnypixie If you're a fan of Joseph Quinn and do not know Stevie or her writing, I don't know what you're doing here? It doesn't even take 0,5 seconds to get invested in her stories and in her characters and ... you're going to end up obsessed, but it's a beautiful obsession, believe me. - Masterlist

@choke-me-joey I'm a perv...I don't hide it. I like sex. All kinds of sex - there is no limit for me. I try everything out. Especially when it comes to reading about sex. So if smut would be a drug, then Kat would be my favourite drug-dealer. That's for sure. But she doesn't only write smut, you find all kind of stories in her masterlist, especially a very great Eddie story that she's currently writing. In addition to that, she's soon going to ruin us with fluff & angst, and I'm so here for it! - Masterlist (Since Kat is shadowbanned on her account - take a look and follow her on her main: @choke-me-eddie)

@ceriseheaven I don't have to say much about Cherry, do I? I mean, if you're here, you've come across her absolute perfect stuff. In addition to that, Cherry is one of the sweetest and nicest person I've seen on Tumblr. She gets a complete innocent ask and turns it into a masterpiece that leaves you like a lost puppy. I love seeing her and her writing on my dash - Masterlist

@icallhimjoey I have never, in my life, been so deep in desperation when reading her famous 5-parts. Especially when they aren't finished. I want to rip my hair out like every. single. time. No exception. So, grab some coffee or tea, open her masterlist and join us, the cumcum twats. - Masterlist

@quinnsbower If you take a look at Luna's masterlist you'll find EVERYTHING there. They write for all characters Joe has played, plus some (very good) rpf. Every story of them is absolutely fantastic and very beautiful written. - Masterlist

These are the ones I wanted to name explicit, please understand that I can't write some nice words to all the perfect writers out there since it would definitely break this site. But here are the following writers, I totally recommend to check out, read their stuff and reblog ♥

@chaoticgood-munson | @cinemaquinn | @corrodedcherry | @eagerbby | @faithinus | @ghostinthebackofyourhead | @hard-candy-writing | @harrys-four-nipples | @hopelesswrites | @indouloureux | @joemazzmatazz | @josephfakingquinn | @justsomestoriessx | @ladyfogg | @lokis-army-77 | @msgexymunson | @munsonsgirl71 | @mybffjoe | @mypoisonedvine | @palomahasenteredthechat | @pedroschka | @prettyboyeddiemunson | @punk-in-docs | @quinnkeerys | @silkscream | @spiderrrling | @stranger-nightmare | @usedtobecooler | @userquinn | @witchy-munson | @xcatnapsx

To all the blogs tagged in this post: Thank you so much for your writing!!! You don't know what impact you and your perfect written words have on our lives...MY LIFE!!! You make this earth a better place. Your stories are doing a greater work than any other person could do! ♥ I love you all ♥ Happy Valentine's day ♥

[teyamsatan]

say something nice about your favorite mutuals!

there's so many people i want to say something about i am genuinely considering making a whole separate post and pouring all my love and affection for everyone i am mutuals with because THEY DESERVE IT AND I LOVE YOU ALL SO SO MUCH :(((

@tiredmamaissy - my issy baby, she was the first writer mutual i had and i remember hyperventilating to my bf when I saw that notification massively because i was such a fan and it meant so much to me. she was also the first person to reach out to me privately when i got my first anon hater and she made me feel so much better about that whole situation, and i will forever me grateful to her for that

@neteluvr - kendra means so so much to me, she has been with me pretty much since the beginning, and she was one of the people that stuck with me and my writing and i love her so much for that. she commented on EVERY illicit affair/the archer chapter and her feedback made my world, i used to wake up at like 5-6 in the morning to see if she has commented because it meant so much to hear what she had to say. she's probably my first tumblr mutual and i've come to love and respect her so so much, to admire her beauty, intelligence and compassion, and my life wouldn't be the same without her, our chats, our mutual love for ts for sure <3

@lanasblood - my baby lana is doing her own thing at the moment, but i hope when she comes back she sees this because i love and miss her so much, our late night conversations mean the world to me and she's just overall such an incredible, beautiful, funny, intelligent girl, and her writing leaves me genuinely starstruck every time with no fail. BABY I MISS YOU COME BACK TO ME RN!!! :(((

@pandoraslxna - Luna is one of the first people I followed on tumblr and she was a celebrity to me for sure hahahaha, i remember sending her a couple of asks when i first started writing bc I was such a fan of her work and the way she carried herself on the platform. When she followed me back and started reblogging my works i literally screamed and cried, i couldn't believe it hahahaha. I love her so much, I consider her a friend and I'm so happy I met her. Her writing inspires me, her kindness and beauty and openness and unwavering support for her fellow creators speak for themselves, but i will just say i love her a lot and i'm grateful to know her <3

@blue-slxt - my baby blue is such a kind, beautiful, kindred spirit. i haven't known her that long but it feels like a lifetime? i feel so close to her and like i know her and want to know her and want to be around her more and more each day. she is so kind and compassionate, so incredible and heroic, i admire the hell out of her for what she does, for helping to save lives, to change lives each day, i am so grateful for her and i can't wait to celebrate more milestones with her <3 ilysm pookie :(((

@fleurriee - my beautiful flower, she brightens my day in a way you wouldn't believe? not only is she a phenomenal writer, and pretty much the only person (alongside lana) who can get me to like fluff hahahaha, but she is a beautiful, incredible, awe-inspiring, light of a human being. i adore her and miss her so much when she's gone, and i genuinely don't know what i must have done right to manage to meet her in the circumstances that i did <3

@jakexneytiri - dani, my beautiful baby, i love her so much? she genuinely radiates such kindness and positivity, she is such a beautiful soul, full of love and light, and she always makes me feel safe and like i can tell her anything and she would listen and not judge? i am so appreciative of her and everything she's done for this fandom, i appreciate how tirelessly she works to make sure this is a healthy, happy community, i love talking and thirsting with her about dilf jake, and i LOVE her creativity and passion she puts in every project :(( ily baby

@neytris - i genuinely ADORE su with all my heart??!?!?! like she is one of the absolute funniest, most beautiful, kindest person i've ever met and I DIE every time i see her posts, and reblogs, her tags, i feel like i want to be su when i grow up and that's that!!!! i love you bb and never stop being you, because you are absolutely the brightest star <3 this barbie is hyperventilating over THE barbie x

@sulieykte - i feel like talking about lys is redundant, because no words or essays or novels can describe what she means to me, i'm literally tearing up just thinking about it. she has genuinely been my rock the past few months and i don't know what i would have done without her? i cannot imagine my life without her anymore, without talking to her daily, without sharing my every thought, woe and achievement with her and knowing that she'll feel it and understand, the same way I do with her. she's my soulmate, my twisted sister, and i love her to the moon and to saturn :((

it's 11pm and i'm writing this half asleep and i promise i'll do a part two in order to appreciate everyone the way they deserve <3 i love you besties xoxoxo

[monamourbladie]

The Man of My Dreams - Blade x Reader (chapter 6)

Who said that the man of your dreams couldn’t be real? After having dreams of the same mystery man for 2 weeks straight, the reader sets off on a journey to find the mystery man known as “Blade” that had been occupying her mind every single night. After realizing that he might actually be a real person, and not just a man she made up, she will finally discover parts of her past that had been long forgotten and locked away. (Originally posted on AO3, which can be read here. Also posted on Wattpad, which is here.)

Chapters Masterlist

warnings: slow burn, slight enemies to lovers themes, fluff, HEAVY angst throughout the entire story (not kidding.), soulmates, memory loss, mutual pining, eventual smut, pwp, renheng themes

Tag List: (@ me to be added) @kimura-uzuri

Fu Xuan knew she had time to speak with the General before Kafka's interrogation was to take place. She quickly moved to a secluded location outside of the hotel and made a holograph call to the General. Quickly, he answered the call, looking concerned. "Is there something wrong, Diviner?" Fu Xuan let out a soft sigh, glancing at her hands. "You were right, General. About Y/n? It is her. The same one that was banished from the Luofu all that time ago." Jing Yuan simply hummed in response, his hand moving towards his chin in thought. "I see. I was afraid of that. I can't say it's not nice to see an old friend, however - even if we weren't that close at the time." Jing Yuan recalled the painful memory of the day everything went wrong. The day Yingxing died, and a grave sin was committed in an attempt to save his life. Jing Yuan tried his best to not think of it.

"How much does Y/n know?" he then asked. "I told her I must speak to you first before I tell her anything. She knows I know something grave. She doesn't remember she's a Vidyadhara... or that she was even married." Jing Yuan looked at Fu Xuan with a slight smirk, "Meaning, she has no idea the man she's been dreaming of was her husband in a past incarnation? How amusing." Fu Xuan shifted uncomfortably, "What should I tell her, General? She remembers nothing of her previous life. She has no idea of her sin, what she did to Yingxing, or even who she really is. Is it even safe to unlock those memories? And how did she even forget?"

Jing Yuan looked at her with a solemn expression. "Her reincarnation process was interrupted. The same happened to the Imbibitor Lunae, Dan Feng. Because neither of the two could complete a full reincarnation cycle, everything in their previous life was locked away - essentially making them believe they were an entirely new person. It would take nothing short of a miracle for their full memories to return, and for them to physically appear as a Vidyadhara once more. I don't think this is the time for that. Especially since, if Y/n were to fully return knowing everything she did - she'd still be banished. I don't feel like sending her to prison when she's already helped us so much with the Stellaron Hunters."

"So... what should I tell her, then?" Fu Xuan asked. "Tell her nothing. Tell her that once this all passes, I will set her aside and answer all of her questions. But for now - we can not risk her finding out about her previous incarnation. Especially if my hunch is correct, and that Blade is truly Yingxing, it could be disastrous." Fu Xuan nodded, bowing her head, "Yes, General. I will go catch up with our guests and begin the interrogation of Kafka momentarily." Jing Yuan nodded to her, "Good. Report to me once it is complete. And good luck - dealing with Kafka needs it," he chuckled. His hologram faded away, and Fu Xuan left to find the Trailblazers.

Fu Xuan remained at the center of the Commission where the Divination was to take place, waiting for the Trailblazers to return. Soon, Stelle, Welt, March, and Y/n walked up. Y/n walked straight up to Fu Xuan as the Cloud Knights guided Kafka to the center. "Well? Did you speak with the General?" she asked. Fu Xuan nodded, raising her hand to silence her, "Yes. And I'm afraid this will have to wait until after the Divination." Y/n glared at her, "No. You're going to tell me the truth right now. I have a right to know." FU Xuan grumbled, shaking her head, "I don't have time for this. You can talk with the General afterward like he requested! Now stand back with your friends and let me do my job," she snapped at Y/n. Y/n rolled her eyes and walked towards March and Stelle, "Whatever. I'll figure it out myself."

March immediately took notice of her frustrated demeanor and frowned. "Woah... what's got you all fired up?" March commented. Y/n crossed her arms as she stood beside her bubbly friend, "Fu Xuan knows the truth about what's going on with my dreams and refuses to tell me. She's claiming I have to speak with the General to learn the truth. As if it's so important I have to talk to the damn General of the freaking Luofu. Like, what is she even on?!" Y/n started ranting to March. "Oh! And one other thing that's  freaking perfect is apparently, the man in my dreams? Blade? She's claiming he's my husband! How ridiculous is that!" March immediately busted out laughing. "Oh, that's so funny! And so obviously wrong! You've never even met him, how could you be married? If you ask me, little missy up there is just spitballing everything she says! I doubt she'll even be able to fully do... whatever it is she's doing to Kafka," March muttered, looking over at Fu Xuan who was beginning the Divination process.

Brilliant shapes made of vibrant pink lights were swarming around Kafka, causing her to levitate. Fu Xuan's hands were raised in front of her, her eyes closed in focus as she Divined the truth of Kafka. As frustrated as Y/n was, she couldn't deny how beautiful this process was shaping out to look. The shapes swirled around Kafka as her smirk grew until Fu Xuan pulled back gasping for air - the same reaction she had after seeing through Y/n's memories. "That's... that's why you're here...?" she asked, her voice shaky. "All for that?" 

"What? Not what you were expecting?" Kafka smiled innocently down at her. "I... I can't believe it. But the Matrix of Prescience cannot be wrong," Fu Xuan muttered, looking down at her hands. The Trailblazers and Tingyun stepped closer to Fu Xuan to make sure everything was alright. "What did you see?" Y/n asked. "Kafka has nothing to do with the Stellaron, but... it's you." Fu Xuan pointed to Stelle. She let out a bitter laugh, "Absurd. I'd never thought it. "Me?" Stelle asked simply. "Ask her yourself. Speak to her as long as you'd wish." Fu Xuan stepped aside to allow Stelle to walk up to Kafka.

Y/n quickly moved forward and rest her hand on Stelle's shoulder, "Are you sure you want to speak with her?" she asked Stelle cautiously. Stelle glanced at her hand then back at her, slowly nodding. Y/n then removed her hand and watched as Stelle walked up to Kafka, whose smile only widened at the sight of her. Her obsession with Stelle was creepy at this point.

Y/n crossed her arms as she began to think over her dreams again. March hopped over and leaned on her shoulder, smiling. "Hey, miss pouty. Try and cheer up, okay? As I said, I doubt whatever Fu Xuan is trying to talk you into believing is a load of lies. Just live in the moment! Look around at the Luofu and how pretty it is! And that tree that we saw earlier? It was so pretty, I took so many photos of it!" March exclaimed. Y/n couldn't help but smile at her excited younger friend. She never failed to bring a smile to her face, even in times of feeling stressed out like right now. "Thanks, March. Can I see?" March nodded as she went to grab her camera, when a huge earthquake shook the planet. March immediately grabbed onto Y/n's arm, looking around frantically, "What's happening?!" 

"It's the tree!" Welt exclaimed, pointing at it. The ground shook intensely as the tree grew at an alarmingly fast rate, the top of the tree protruding past the clouds from its height. From the branches dropped glowing words in the Luofu's native language, beautiful yellow sparks falling from it slowly. It was so large that it completely obstructed most of the view of the Luofu now. 

"Kafka's escaping!" Fu Xuan yelled. Everyone turned to look at Stelle, who was currently trying to chase after Kafka. Her shackles had been magically broken and she immediately started to back up. As Stelle sprinted forward, a man dropped in front of her, holding his sword dangerously close to her - forcing her to keep her distance. Y/n looked over and immediately recognized him. It was Blade. He was here, so close to her...

"Let's go, Bladie~" Kafka called to him. "We've got two more places to visit." Blade twirled his sword behind his back as he kept a strong glare at Stelle. Y/n felt her heart pound out of her chest. She wanted to follow him. Y/n broke free of March's grasp and she gasped, yelling back at her as she ran, "Y/n, what are you doing?!" 

"BLADE!" She yelled, catching up to Stelle quickly. Blade began to turn to follow Kafka when he froze, recognizing the voice. The voice... from his dreams...? He turned back around fully and saw Y/n running up to him. He quickly drew his sword again, holding it taught, "Who are you?" He snapped. "Leave her, we don't have time for this!" Kafka yelled at him. "It's me! It's Y/n! You're the one from my dreams... you're... you're real," Y/n said, her gaze completely fixated on his. His glare softened, examining her face as he took in her words. Then it clicked in his mind...

Blade let his sword fall to his side. He felt so conflicted. The woman he had been longing to finally meet was right in front of him, but he had to run with Kafka... Kafka rolled her eyes and twirled her fingers, "Just take her with us, damn it!" Blade heard her voice in his head and he growled, closing his eyes. He let out a heavy sigh and immediately grabbed Y/n's wrist tightly, pulling her against his body as he leaned in to whisper, "Don't make me regret this."

His free arm slid around her waist, holding her flush against his body. After making sure he had a firm grip on her, he started to run. Y/n squealed in surprise, "Hey! Let go of - what do you think you're doing!?" she tried fighting it, but good God that man was so strong, she could barely move an inch in his hold. The Trailblazers started yelling after them, chasing after Kafka and Blade as they got away with Y/n. 

She wanted to resist, but something was stopping her from it... Maybe she was secretly okay with this? She was at least, until she saw them get closer to the ledge... "You better not fucking jump that!" she yelled. Kafka let out a laugh, "That's the fun part, Trailblazer." She raised her arms and fell backward off the platform, disappearing. Y/n grabbed Blade tighter as she hid her face in his chest, his grip on her tightening, "Better hold on..." he muttered, jumping head first after Kafka. Y/n screamed as they fell, fully convinced this was how she'd die.

To her utter surprise, she, Blade, and Kafka had landed feet first on a Starskiff deck that was docked below the platform, perfectly hidden from view. Kafka brushed off the dirt from her clothes as she regained her stature, looking at Blade with a pissed off gaze, "What the hell is wrong with you, Blade?" She snapped at him. Blade set Y/n down, rolling his eyes, "Don't you start." Y/n's knees immediately buckled, most likely from the fear of dropping that far so fast as she scrambled to find a place to sit down. Her breathing was jagged as she tried to process everything that had just happened.

"Don't I start? Don't I start?? Blade, you brought a fugitive with us! This was not a part of the script!" she snapped at him. "And out of everyone, it was an Astral Express member! Are you fucking insane?" she yelled. Blade waved his hand in irritants, "I'll get back to you in a damn minute, so shut up!" he snapped back at her. He turned from Kafka to Y/n, walking directly up to her. "Get up," he snapped at her. His voice was much colder in person than how it was in her dreams. She gulped as she stood up slowly. Blade gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, keeping it at his side, "Y/n, isn't it?" he asked coldly. She nodded quickly, "Y-yes... please tell me you've been having those dreams too so I don't feel like an absolute idiot," she asked nervously. She was greatly intimidated by him. His stature was much more intense in person, and he was way taller than she thought he'd be. She gulped as she looked up at him when he moved closer, clearly examining her.

Blade was silent for a few moments, "...Yes, I have been," he finally answered. "You've been in all of them. How are you here?" he asked her. Kafka scoffed, "This is her?" she muttered, rolling her eyes as she started piloting the Starskiff to the next destination. "I'm with the Astral Express. Kafka... she told us to come here. Said she needed help to get you out of prison..." Y/n replied. She couldn't help but blush from how close he was to her. Either he had no concept of personal space, or he was that close to her to get a reaction out of her. Either way, it was intimidating in the best ways.

"She managed just fine without you. What's the real reason why you're here?" Blade replied, his tone growing colder again. Y/n bit her lip, "That's why we came. But... when I realized I might have a chance of actually meeting you, I made sure to come with them. Even if I had a friend tell me to stay away from you," she answered truthfully. She hadn't thought about Dan Heng in a while, and now she was beginning to feel guilty that here she was doing the exact opposite of what she promised him. But now that she saw him in person... she didn't feel so bad about it.

"Good to know that friend of yours is afraid of me," Blade said with a smirk. "But, I must say I'm curious as to how you realized it was me." he set his sword down, crossing his arms. It was amusing to him just how short she was in comparison to him. But, he couldn't lie to himself - she was just as gorgeous as he secretly hope she'd be in person.

"Fu Xuan and General Jing Yuan all but confirmed it," she replied to him. She brushed some of the hair from her face as she let out a shaky sigh, "L-Listen... I don't want to cause any trouble. I really don't. I just... I felt compelled to talk to you. This was what I came on the Luofu for anyway, hoping I'd be able to find you if you truly did exist." Blade was amused by this. He slowly started to walk forward toward her, and she instinctively backed up. "How sentimental of you. How about you tell me what Jing Yuan told you, then?" She hit her back against the wall of the Starskiff, and she blushed brightly as his hand lay against her head. He had her practically pinned between her and the wall. She bit her lip, staying silent as she looked up at him flustered, "I..." Blade waited for a moment for her to answer, and when she didn't, he reached down for his sword slowly, "Don't make me use this on you, sweetheart. Just tell me what he told you," he said in a taunting tone. Her eyes widened at the nickname, and it served to make her all the more flustered by the situation she was in. Blade looked down at her with an amused sly smile. He was enjoying taunting her like this...

Before Y/n could fully answer, Kafka spoke up for them. "You're married, Blade. To her. Is that what it is?" Kafka said. Y/n looked over at Kafka, her mouth hanging open in surprise, "How... how did you know?" Blade looked back at Kafka in shock, then back at Y/n even more surprised. He immediately dropped his sword and removed his hand from beside her head, taking a large step back from her. "Excuse me?" He said in an angry tone, as if the mere thought offended him deeply. Kafka pulled out Y/n's jade pendant necklace, smirking. "You dropped this when we landed on the Starskiff. It's identical to Bladie's." Blade immediately moved forward and snatched it from Kafka's hand, examining it. Y/n felt nervous as he held it, "Hey! Be careful with that, it's a family heirloom!" she exclaimed.

"No... it can't be," he murmured. He looked down at his belt where he kept his jade pendant. His brows furrowed as he moved his hand to unhook it from his belt, holding it up to her pendant. He noticed that the two could be pieced together... so he connected the pendants.

And it was a perfect fit. Blade remained in complete silence as he and Y/n looked at their pendants that slotted perfectly into each other. It was obvious they were a one-of-a-kind pair. "What do you know of the Jade Pendant, Kafka?" Blade asked. His voice was calm and quiet now. Kafka crossed her arms and sat down on a chair behind the couple. "On the Luofu, those pendants are used in place of a traditional wedding ring. Although a ring could be bought for looks, the Pendant is the true symbol of marriage. According to legend, Vidyadharians specifically would place their pendant in their mouth before their reincarnation process in hopes of being reunited with their lover in their next life." Kafka began to smirk, "Cute, is it not?"

Y/n's heart began to race. Everything was slotting almost too perfectly into place. But it still felt like she was missing a huge chunk of information. "I don't mean to be rude, but I don't remember getting married to you," Y/n spoke up, looking up at Blade. He looked down at her for a moment, nodding in response, "Nor do I."

"Curious," Kafka said, standing up. She stepped between the pair and held the connected pendant in her hand, "Well, then if neither of you remembers, then I guess it's not true?" Kafka suggested. "It's just by pure coincidence that you two have been dreaming of each other for weeks on end, and have matching jade pendants that eludes to you two being married. No biggie, I suppose," Kafka said with a fake disappointed sigh. Blade rolled his eyes at her dramatization. "I have had memories for the longest time with a woman I could not recognize. I'm beginning to think that perhaps you are the woman in those memories, Y/n," Blade finally spoke up, turning to her. Y/n glanced up at him. She shrugged lightly, "Maybe. I've had the same kinds of memories, but I always thought they were dreams, since I had no idea what was happening in them." Y/n took a moment to recall a few of them. "But... now that I'm thinking about it, maybe you're right? In mine, there was always one man that I couldn't identify his voice, or what he looked like. But eventually, I started to see you appear in my dreams..."

Y/n and Blade both looked at each other. They felt a certain warmth and familiarity as they did, which caused Y/n to smile up at him. "What if... somehow... we really are married?" Y/n asked. "Then what?" Blade remained completely silent. He looked down at her, averting his eyes from her to the sky. "I don't know," he said simply. He then walked to the opposite side of the Starskiff, leaving Y/n and Kafka alone.

She felt her heart sink... he seemed irritated at the idea that they were married. Maybe she was stupid to come here and confront him in person. She understood that everything she was explaining seemed farfetched and completely unreal - she even thought that. But what she hoped was not the case was that Blade was angry at this development.

What else was she forgetting? Maybe if she managed to remember whatever it was, she'd find out the truth as to what she and Blade truly are.

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 18)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

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Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 10,316

Summary: As Javier and Horacio make a fresh start in Madrid, they attempt to come to terms with their past, present and future with some unexpected help.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Romantic/emotional sex, edging, PTSD symptoms, grief and parental loss, brief discussions of sexuality/coming out, brief mentions of canon-typical violence, smoking, drinking, swearing.

Notes: Ok, so I know I said I wasn't going to be posting for a while, but after some lovely comments I've had on Tumblr this past week, I thought I would show my appreciation by sharing this a bit earlier than anticipated ❤️

Chapter 19 is ready to go, so hopefully I can post that soon, as it's the second half of their Madrid adventures (I had to split it because it got too big for one chapter, oops).

Thank you once again to anyone still following this fic - old or new - I can't believe it's been over two years since I first started it. Never in a million years did I expect it to become, well, this lol. But we are very nearly there now!

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested. 

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

Chapter 18: One Day at a Time

It was the stillest part of the day, the city suspended somewhere between the dying embers of night and the cusp of dawn. The streets below saw parallel worlds collide as overindulgent revellers staggered alongside coffee-carrying workers who had drawn the short straw.

Neither Javier nor Horacio was a stranger to witnessing sunrise from both sides. But there was comfort in waking up to it rather than being caught unawares when sleep never came.

A raucous catfight had woken them, although the sparring partners had since gone their separate ways and restored calm to the neighbourhood.

Javier surveyed the aftermath from the French doors of the balcony, a pair of arms smoothly securing themselves around his waist, their fingers entwining over his stomach.

“Did I miss anything?” Horacio croaked, grogginess still heavy in his throat, his bare chest radiating welcomed warmth against Javier’s chilled back.

“Just the usual suspects. I know the ginger one lives opposite, but I think the black one must be a stray.”

“The same one that was out here the other day?” Horacio nodded towards their balcony, equipped with a table, two chairs, and a few hanging baskets and potted plants.

“Looked like it.”

“Maybe we should put some food out if it stops by again.” Memories of the stray he and Alejandra played their part in looking after sprung to Horacio's mind. Strangely enough, that had been a black cat too.

“Should I tell Luna she’s been replaced already?”

“Don’t you dare.” At least the teasing took Horacio’s mind off the fact he missed all two-legged and four-legged residents of the ranch tremendously, and according to reports from Chucho, the feeling was mutual.

It had only been weeks since they left Laredo, but the days stretched out longer now. It wasn’t that time dragged, but their pace of life had slowed again. The ranch was a vacation compared to Colombia, but jobs still needed to be done. Here though, they had no commitments.

The first week involved sorting out their apartment. It came fully furnished, but they needed basics like bedding, groceries and warmer clothes. Arriving in Madrid during the winter months was a shock to the system after their balmy Texan Christmas, a fact Horacio probably should have warned Javier about before they stepped off the plane in their short-sleeved shirts.

Not that Javier minded whenever the temperature dropped in the evening, and they would huddle on the couch in front of the electric fire, limbs draped over one another. There was no scent of mesquite wood this time, but that didn’t matter when shared body heat and tactility were more than enough to satisfy as they christened the furniture in their shared home.

The décor was all neutral colours but vibrant paintings of local landmarks and rural Spain hung on the bright white walls. A long corridor stretched from the entrance, with a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and separate living area branching off it. Despite the modest square footage, the high ceilings and large windows along the external wall made the space light and airy.

The apartment was still dark enough to protect them at this time of day, and semi-closed blinds covered the balcony doors from top to bottom. They could see out the hangings, especially if they were prised apart. But Javier had ensured on the first day they arrived that there was no chance of anyone from outside nosing in. He wasn’t taking any chances, even though that threat was left back in Colombia.

Now the commotion outside had died down, they basked in the peace of their embrace.

“It was the cats that woke you, wasn’t it?” Horacio asked after a contented silence. He had to check, even though there had been a marked improvement in their sleeping patterns lately.

“Yeah, it was. I slept well last night, actually.”

“Me too. Better now I’m getting used to the traffic again.”

“The ranch really makes you forget how fucking loud the city is.” Or maybe, now Javier thought about it, it was the ranch that was so fucking quiet. “I’m still waking up through the night sometimes, cats or no cats. But I guess that might just be getting used to this place.”

“You like it here, though?”

“Yeah, I do. I can see why you wanted to come back.”

“I only wanted to come back with you.” Horacio’s fingers traced idle patterns across the soft curve of Javier’s stomach.

A light shiver ran through Javier as he lolled his head back into the pillow of Horacio’s shoulder. “So you could do this, huh?”

Horacio hummed in agreement against Javier’s neck, his mouth working methodically back and forth as a hand wandered south in search of a trail of dark hair, skirting through the wiry strands.

“Well, it wasn’t for the sangria,” he scathed, his teeth scraping over Javier as though he would rather devour the man in his arms than a glass of that stuff. Maybe it was because they hadn’t drunk much alcohol since Javier returned from Colombia, but neither had taken to it. “And you don’t seem to be complaining.”

“There are worse ways to start the day.” Javier relaxed into Horacio’s hold, allowing himself to be manhandled because there was no rush. There never was anymore.

Plenty of early mornings had begun similarly. Sometimes one man would wake up to the calid pressure of a mouth around his cock, gradually allowing the slow burn of arousal to build whilst they were half-asleep. Other times they would spoon with one held inside the other, barely moving, vaguely dreaming but always on the brink of release.

Then there were times when slow and gentle weren't enough. They had mastered the art of keeping each other quiet, for their apartment walls weren’t the thickest. Not too much, though, because the rhythmic slapping of skin-on-skin or the crisp echo of a palm across the ass was part of the appeal.

But teasing strokes and languorous rolls of the hips were in order now. One hand pumped at an unhurried pace, Javier’s length fitting in Horacio’s grip as though they were made for each other. As though Horacio had every nerve ending and sweet spot memorised as he expertly massaged Javier’s frenulum, extracting a guttural moan that reverberated through their chests in tandem.

Horacio’s free hand mapped Javier’s skin, chasing goosebumps with the calloused pads of his fingers as he found friction at the cleft of Javier’s ass. Each touch and motion a tangible reminder he wasn’t here alone this time, that the solid form in his hold and the stubbled cheek grazing against his were real. That they belonged to each other, not as possessions but as mutual choices made again and again.

Javier luxuriated in a delirious limbo, teetering on the verge but never quite there, the need for release visceral in the pit of his stomach. Yet as he trembled and writhed, alternating between pouting his bottom lip and biting it, a part of him was willing to beg to be kept hanging. Because this was what he had wanted when they were separated by oceans and a misplaced sense of duty, and now he had it, he didn’t want to let it go.

Each twitch or convulsion only made Horacio pull Javier closer, gaining extra purchase with the firm grasp at his hip bone, grinding harder but not faster, lost in dragging the head of his cock in agonising circles, from side to side, then up and down, pausing to let it throb in time with their panting. Knowing he could probe further and give them what they needed, but then it would be game over.

So, they resisted, turning shallow breaths into deeper ones, Horacio ceasing movement whenever they neared the point of no return, reeling them back in like a wound-up coil, forcing them to admire the view below as they fought against every instinct in their bodies.

Javier allowed the balcony door to bear some of their weight with one hand splayed across the clinking blinds, pushing back a fraction just to make Horacio groan in his ear and seize the cross dangling from his neck. His other hand clutched Horacio’s arm, neck, shoulder, whichever part of him he could reach, grounding and anchoring them together.

Whenever they almost succumbed, memories of their time apart would re-focus them in the present; where their legs shook, and their toes curled at every new sensation rippling through their joined form, the anticipation of relief battling with remaining in equilibrium, daring each other to prolong the exquisite agony for as long as possible.

But resistance was inevitably futile. With several final jerks of the wrist and hips, they surrendered control, painting Javier with their release from both sides as they gave themselves over to the white-hot bliss cascading through their synapses, each spasm igniting and stoking flame after flame, consuming and burning until they almost blacked out.

Neither moved as the pink haze of the skyline broached the gaps in the blinds and blushed their fevered skin; the dawn air a perfect tonic to the blazing heat between them. A greeting from the light rather than a reluctant acknowledgement after outstaying their welcome in the dark.

Strong arms encased Javier at his front while a rhythmic beat drummed against his back, catching and soothing him in surroundings that were still relatively new. Steady, grounding, home.

“Good morning, by the way,” Horacio said between tender kisses along Javier’s shoulder.

“Hmm, certainly is a good morning.” Javier shifted to face Horacio, sweeping him up with an open-mouthed kiss as addictive as the first one they ever shared, and oh, how far they had come since then. “Is it too early for breakfast?”

“Not when we’ve built up an appetite.” Horacio nibbled at Javier’s lip to emphasise his hunger. “Although, maybe a shower before I make us some coffee?”

Javier nipped back before instigating another searing kiss, barely breaking it to speak again. “Sounds good to me.”

Nothing was particularly extraordinary about the idyllic scene they had started the morning off with. And yet that in itself was extraordinary. Not so long ago, all of this felt out of reach, something to aspire to or hope for, but not something feasible. But here they were, in their shared apartment, embarking on a new chapter together, taking another leap of faith. Not running away from the past but trying to break free from its shackles, one day at a time. 

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Once they had got their bearings in the first few weeks, they began to venture out bit by bit. First, it was walking around the city’s vast green parks, starting with the nearest and working further away from their apartment each time. Then cooking or takeaway turned into dining in a secluded bistro. And watching TV in the apartment became a leisurely stroll around a museum.

Horacio hadn’t felt much like sightseeing when he was here by himself. But things were different now. Everything was different now, even the city itself, from how the early morning light fell on the buildings to the hustle and bustle of Gran Vía. The crowds were still there in their droves. The shoppers and tourists, who would stop in the middle of the pavement with a street map sprawling across their arms, still needed to be sidestepped at the last second. But it was easier to ignore when Javier was by his side.

It was at this point that Horacio knew there was something he was going to have to do. Something he had been putting off, despite it being something he wanted to do. But that didn’t calm the nerves bubbling in his stomach as he took the familiar walk around the corner from their apartment building and down a cobbled side street. Javier had offered to come with him for moral support, but playing it safe seemed the best option, at least this time, just in case.

As he approached the glass door with its seasonal flower arrangements hanging below the red and gold calligraphic Café Romero lettering, it hit him how much his life had changed since he last visited, how much he and Javier had been through. So how reasonable was it to expect everything to be the same here? He swallowed hard as he turned the handle, the bell above the door jangling as it opened.

The interior looked the same as always. Caramel and beige walls complemented the variety of coffees on the menu and the lush green of potted plants decorating the shelves, in between photos of past and present generations of the Romero family. A large window ran along the front, providing extra lighting and an opportunity to people-watch on busier days.

Horacio could see no staff and only customers, but it was early, so the place hadn't filled up yet. In fact, his usual window seat in the corner was still free. Waves of nostalgia layered with relief rolled over him as he sat down facing the counter.

But it didn’t take long for the face he was looking for to appear from the kitchen carrying a fresh batch of napolitanas de chocolate.

A shriek of delight quickly followed once Señora Romero put down her baking tray and raised her head. She brought her hands to her face in surprise, gathering up her apron at the same time as it caught on her fingers. “Horacio?!”

The intonation of her voice suggested it was a question. But she was already crossing the floor of the café with her arms outstretched.

Horacio rose from his table, making it easier for her to scoop him into a hug reminiscent of the ones his Abuela Margarita gave him as a child.

“It’s good to see you, Señora Romero. I hope you’re well.”

She looked well, her silver hair still tied in a messy bun and her rounded figure and freshly stained apron a sign her passion for food hadn’t waned.

“All the better for seeing you.” She lightly squeezed his cheek as she took in his appearance. “Although you might have warned me, I’d have baked more of those milhojas you liked so much last time.”

“Sorry. I’ve not been back long. I’m still sorting out the apartment and trying to remember my way around.”

“Of course, of course. Rest your feet, and I’ll bring you something over. Your usual coffee?”

Horacio smiled at the fact she had remembered his order. “That’d be lovely, thank you.”

The coffee was as delicious as ever, much like the freshly made churros and accompanying hot chocolate, which Señora Romero gave him on the house despite his protests.

She updated Horacio on her family and how Luisa and her husband, Julián, had become parents since their wedding. Their new arrival, Tomás, meant Señora Romero still ran the café, with Luisa helping out occasionally until Tomás was at school.

Señora Romero rushed to grab some photos from behind the counter, showing off her latest grandson. She was in her element and every bit the doting Abuelita.

“Congratulations, I can see the family resemblance,” Horacio said, passing the photos back.

“I said the same to Luisa! He’s definitely got the Romero nose.” She gazed at the picture before shifting her attention back to Horacio. “So, what did I do to deserve the pleasure of your company?”

Horacio scoffed into his cup, creating ripples across the surface of his coffee as he took a sip. “I don’t know where to start.”

“How about from where we left off?”

Horacio hadn't been looking for sympathy, but naturally, Señora Romero supplied plenty of it, gasping, tutting, and consoling in all the appropriate places when he gave an abridged and redacted version of events since their last meeting.

He spoke more than was ideal about his injury and retirement from the CNP because, by comparison, it was safer ground than the inverted commas silently hugging every use of "friend" a mention of Javier brought.

“Oh, Horacio, my dear. You have been through the wars. How’s your shoulder doing now?”

“Okay, mostly. I still get twinges, but I know I’m lucky.”

“Lucky to have someone like Javier around as well, by the sounds of it.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Even if he had wanted to stop it, the reflexive smile spreading across Horacio’s face was irrepressible.

Señora Romero studied his features intently, beaming in return once she had finished. “And how was life on a ranch?”

“It was…good, actually. I know it’s not the CNP, but I liked the peace and quiet. And the routine. Something always needed doing or fixing.”

“It might not be the CNP, but that sounds much safer and simpler to me.”

“It was. It was good to feel useful again. Like I was making a difference, even if it wasn’t life or death.” Especially if it wasn’t, more like.

“I know you never talked much about it, but I could see how restless you were trapped behind a desk. You’re a man of action, Horacio. I don’t see that changing no matter which path you take.”

The café was busier now, meaning Horacio was left to finish his churros whilst Señora Romero dealt with the start of the breakfast rush.

As he dipped his last churro in the remnants of hot chocolate, it occurred to him that, once upon a time, his father would have been the central focus of this conversation. And, of course, he had wondered what his Papá would have made of his son living and working on a ranch in Texas, of all places. But it was also a moot point. It was an answer he would never get, regardless of how much he wrung his hands about the hypothetical possibility of disappointing his father.

This was about what was best for him and Javier now. The ranch had been their escape from the madness that was slowly killing them. Although Horacio never knew with absolute certainty what caused his Papá’s heart to fail, it was a plausible theory he overworked himself. And that irony sat more comfortably with Horacio these days. Because as much as his Papá had been a role model since Horacio was old enough to understand the word police, he was also a cautionary tale.

When the rush died down, Horacio helped clear some tables. It was the least he could do in exchange for words of wisdom and a complimentary breakfast.

But Señora Romero didn’t stop there and scuttled off behind the counter. She filled a box with an assortment of pastries and cakes, sealed the lid and handed it to Horacio as he moved towards the door.

“Here, my dear. Some more to keep you going. Enough for two, in fact.”

Horacio fumbled for a response beyond thank you as he accepted the box, wishing he could hide inside it as he sensed her eyes still on him.

Señora Romero’s hand lingered on his for a fraction longer than was customary for a simple goodbye.

He looked up to find the same head tilt and gentle smile he was met with in the apartment upstairs almost two years ago. When he was indirectly talking about Javier.

“I meant it when I said don’t be a stranger. You and Javier will always be welcome here.”

The sincerity in her eyes grew sharper, and she gripped his hand. In sympathy? Solidarity? Horacio wasn't sure.

But it put him at ease enough to reciprocate and ask a question now lodged in his throat with no option to swallow it back down. “How did you know?”

“Because there’s a glow about you, Horacio. A glow I remember from a long, long time ago. I might’ve forgotten a lot in my old age, but never that. Not even now it’s just me rattling around upstairs. It doesn’t have to fade, you know. Not if you don’t let it.”

It was a running theme for Horacio’s elders to leave him speechless like this. And it was all he could do to bob his head in acknowledgement, hoping he might be capable of such sage insights one day.

The bell above the door chimed again, signalling the end of their reunion as Señora Romero greeted her new customers, inviting them to sit wherever they liked.

“I think that’s my cue. But thank you, Señora Romero. For everything.”

“Any time. Take care, Horacio. And remember, my door’s always open.”

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Horacio dropped the box of delights on the kitchen counter, the fresh breeze and murmur of traffic revealing that Javier had moved from the bedroom to the balcony since he left.

Javier put the book he was reading down in favour of craning his neck over his shoulder to watch Horacio potter about the kitchen before biting the bullet. “So, how did it go?”

Horacio didn’t speak whilst he concentrated on transferring a couple of ensaimadas onto plates. He then joined Javier, sitting in the empty seat next to him as he offered a plate. “Better than I thought it would. She guessed about us. I didn’t tell her. Somehow she just…knew.”

“How did she take it?”

“I think we’ve got a free supply of these for life.”

They couldn’t help but laugh in unison, more from relief than anything else.

“See, I told you it’d be fine.”

“Yeah. It’s never gonna stop, though, is it?”

“How d’you mean?”

“Every time we meet someone.”

“I say it's nobody’s fucking business unless we decide it is.”

“I spoke to Alejandra yesterday. While you were in the shower.” Horacio paused at his announcement that might have appeared unconnected to their conversation, but Javier knew better. “I let her know I’m back here for now. I couldn’t tell her the rest, though.”

He focused on his plate, poking a fork at the crumbly layers of pastry, hoping to find his courage buried somewhere between them. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no, stop that.” Javier forfeited his plate for leaning closer to Horacio, palm caressing his thigh. “Before Laredo, you said I should only tell Pops if I’m ready. So, there’s no rush, Horacio. Take all the time you need.”

Horacio entwined their fingers on his leg because if anyone understood his apprehension, it was Javier. “I know. I just hate keeping it from her after everything we’ve been through. She would always make me soup if I was sick. And she looked out for me after Papá was gone. She taught me Mamá’s sudado de pollo recipe because it was one of Papá’s favourites. I liked to think I was the man of the house, but she loved reminding me she was my older sister.”

“I bet she did. I saw that a lot with my parents and my Tías and Tíos. Never could decide if I’d have preferred brothers and sisters after they all got together.”

“That’s siblings for you. I didn’t want to shut her – or Mamá – out. But when things got crazy back home, I had no choice.”

“Same with Pops. The worse it got, the more I shut down. But he understood. And…I know I haven’t met them.” Yet, Javier wanted to add but thought better of it. “But they might too.”

“I know.”

“We’ll be okay whatever happens, you know that, right?”

“Yeah. I do.” Horacio finally let go of Javier’s hand, knowing if he held on any longer, he’d have given their neighbours something to gossip about.

Instead, he took another bite of his pastry and a swig of the half-drunk coffee from the table where Javier’s abandoned book lay. “What are you reading, anyway?”

“Oh, just this.” Javier reached for his Mamá’s poetry book, the pages fluttering in the breeze, the superstitious remnants from his upbringing wanting to believe it was a sign of something other than the weather. “Before we left, I told Pops I wished she’d met you. I don’t know if she ever suspected anything about me, but…I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

“Maybe not. But for what it’s worth, I wish I’d met her too.”

It had always been a relief for Horacio that his father and Javier never crossed paths, but that was mostly a projection of his own fears. The truth was, he would never know if his Papá suspected anything about him, either.

Once they had finished their ensaimadas, Horacio washed up the plates and a few items waiting by the sink, a routine he performed countless times with Alejandra when they were just about tall enough to reach the taps; before any expectations of who or what he was supposed to be were placed on his shoulders. Memories flooded back of how they would squabble over who got to wash and dry. Although, of course, more often than not, his big sister would pull rank, and in hindsight, he smiled at the possibility that, all those years later, she, rather than their Papá, was what had made his job so appealing.

As he left the clean plates, cups, and cutlery to dry on the draining board, it dawned on him that Alejandra and his Mamá didn’t have to be the same story as his Papá. They didn’t need to be another unfinished, half-written story in which the ending would always elude him, haunt him, or hold him back. Not if Horacio didn’t leave it too late this time.

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Whilst Horacio resumed his early morning runs, they were more like gentle jogs these days. It wasn’t that he had lost his stamina after being put through his paces back on the ranch, but he didn’t feel the need to charge ahead at full pelt anymore. He was more likely to go through a routine of strengthening exercises, to keep his right shoulder from seizing up, and for whenever they decided to head back to Laredo. If that was to become his full-time job, he couldn’t afford to be out of shape.

He left Javier in bed, with plans to meet him at Café Romero for breakfast. It was to be Javier’s first time meeting Señora Romero, which they were confident they had nothing to worry about, but that didn’t quell the butterflies dancing in their stomachs the night before.

It was why Horacio had gone for a run instead of lying awake restless, counting down the hours until he could get up. His muscle memory, rather than his wristwatch, estimated that by the time he jogged one of his usual routes that took him to the outskirts of Casa de Campo park and walked a few blocks to cool down, he would be ready for breakfast.

About three-quarters of the way through his run, having just exited the park, he heard the call of his name. He willed there to be another Horacio jogging passed at the same time, but when his eyes fell upon the source of the voice, he knew he was out of luck.

“Álvaro?” He didn’t know why he asked; he’d spent enough time with Álvaro Molina to recognise his voice anywhere.

Álvaro was a chief inspector in the Spanish CNP. Not a direct parallel to Horacio’s role in Colombia, but close enough. Although Álvaro was never based at the Consulate when Horacio was, they spent plenty of time in the same cross-departmental meetings.

He was a couple of inches taller than Horacio with hazel eyes and unruly dark brown curls that were more mottled with grey than their last meeting. At one time, Álvaro carried almost as much muscle as Horacio, but he had visibly lost weight, his face now gaunt and rough with days’ old stubble.

“How the hell are you?” A hand shook Horacio’s with vigour. “Better than last time, I bet, now that motherfucker’s in the ground.”

“You could say that.”

“What brings you back? They didn’t exile you again, did they?” Álvaro winked, knowing he was on friendly enough terms with Horacio to get away with it.

A scoff and roll of the eyes was Horacio’s response. “No. Actually, it was the other way round this time.”

“Oh? You are a dark horse. Always thought they’d have to force you into retirement when you’re old and grey.”

“Yeah, me too. But I guess things change.”

“Hmm, some more than others.”

“I take it there’s been no let-up in seizures after Medellín folded?”

“Not with Cali waiting in the wings, no.” There was a brittle laugh followed by a shift in Álvaro’s facial expression, the joviality from moments ago now gone and replaced with traces of sleep deprivation.

“That’s the trouble. You cut off one serpent’s head, and two more of the fuckers grow straight back.” Horacio’s words were loaded with a sting of venom at the mention of Cali, closely followed by thoughts of Los Pepes, Stechner and the CIA’s protection of Cali. How could they possibly win when the whole system was corrupt to the core?

“Tell me about it. Listen, I don’t suppose you’ve got time to grab a quick coffee? Hell knows I need one.”

Horacio calculated he had about 15 minutes maximum spare, so, it was doable if he drank fast and didn’t get too involved in shop talk that was no longer his remit.

“Okay, there’s a place just inside Casa de Campo. But you’re buying.”

“Always the cheapskate.”

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Javier glanced up from his newspaper to the clock on the wall. Horacio was technically late; by his own standards, that was. Javier wouldn’t even have noticed if it was anyone else.

He followed Horacio’s instructions on how to get here, even down to picking the window seat in the far corner of the café. It was empty when Javier arrived – five minutes early, which must be a first – so he sat and waited.

Not long after he took a seat, a lady too young to be Señora Romero came to greet him with a friendly smile, ready to take his order.

Javier went with a café solo for each of them, saving the food order for when Horacio arrived.

Even when speaking in short sentences, Javier was self-conscious of his accent here, sometimes forgetting to adjust his pronunciation or pick a different word than he was used to. Of course, it had been the same when he arrived in Colombia and Horacio in Texas. A cultural exchange that led to many late-night conversations – and the occasional argument – about dialect differences. But that was the versatility of the Spanish language.

The same waitress brought the drinks over, although an older woman had joined her who was now clearing the adjacent table. The family resemblance between the two women was undeniable, so Javier assumed this must be Señora Romero and…Luisa, did Horacio say? He kept quiet for now, just in case he was wrong. Nor did he want to steal Horacio’s thunder with introductions.

As Javier thanked Luisa and explained the second cup was for someone meeting him shortly, Señora Romero ceased wiping a cloth across the emptied table, her ears pricking up at an accent she didn’t hear too often.

Not that Javier noticed as his eyes darted to the door, up to the clock and down to the paper with a heavy sigh.

He got through one and a half news stories when Señora Romero made her move from watching Javier curiously from behind the counter to standing by his table.

“It’s not like him to be late, is it?”

Javier was startled out of his newspaper and looked up, where rich shades of chestnut and cinnamon collided for the first time. “How—?” was about all he managed to stutter out.

Señora Romero sat opposite Javier, where Horacio should have been sitting. “Ever since his first visit, he went straight for this table. It is a nice spot, though. He always read his papers and ordered a café solo every time.” She smiled affectionately at the coffee cups on the table like they were an old friend. “Plus, he told me about Laredo. So, I wasn’t expecting another Colombian accent.”

“I’m impressed. We could’ve done with more people like you in Colombia. And I was under strict instructions to pick this table. But you’re right; it’s not like him to be late.”

There was no doubt a logical explanation for Horacio’s absence. But Javier couldn’t stop his fingers from fidgeting around the handle of his cup or his knee from bouncing under the table and causing an earthquake.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s on his way, dear. Did he go for one of his pre-breakfast runs?”

There was something comforting about Señora Romero’s familiarity with Horacio’s routines, even though Javier had never met her before. It gave them a mutual talking point and a connection beyond the usual dry small talk. “Bingo.”

“Of course! He was one of my most loyal regulars. I did miss seeing him in here after he left.”

“He’s talked about you and this place a lot. So, I’d say the feeling’s mutual.”

“Bless you, my dear. I’m glad our paths crossed. But I’ve no doubt he ended up where he belonged.”

Heat bloomed in Javier’s face and chest as Señora Romero gave him a pointed look followed by a flash of a wink. And he couldn’t help but feel sheepish that he and Horacio had ever worried about her reaction in the first place.

It took his mind off things until his gaze fell back on the clock, and he saw another five minutes had passed. Where the fuck was he? No, Javier couldn’t think like that. It was stupid and unnecessary at this stage. He just needed to focus on the pleasant conversation he was having now. So, he tried again.

This time, he asked questions about Señora Romero’s family and, during a lull in the breakfast rush, was introduced to Luisa as a friend of Horacio’s. If Luisa suspected anything, she took it in the same stride as her mother.

Next came the family photos, including plenty of Tomás, naturally. An album's worth of photos was scattered across the table, allowing Señora Romero to guide Javier through each one as though she was delivering a presentation. But as someone with a large extended family, Javier didn’t mind and even interjected with anecdotes about his own relatives.

After a tilt of his head and a sip of his coffee, Javier brought the cup down to the photo-covered table with a sense of déjà vu. It took him out of the moment and forced him to close his eyes, trying to blink away his sudden change in mood. But then, a wave of cheap perfume filled his senses. And Señora Romero’s finger pointing at the pictures was younger and manicured. The photo she placed in his hand wasn’t the many generations of the Romero family posing in front of the café; it was one of the long-lens photos of Javier and Horacio.

He blinked hard enough to see spots, allowing his vision to gradually re-focus on the safety of the photo in his hand rather than the violating one burnt into his memory. He tried not to think about those images, and for the most part, he succeeded these days. But occasionally, his brain would taunt him, reminding him how paralysed he was by the possible consequences. By the fact he put Horacio in so much danger and couldn’t even tell him about it or be with him. By the fact he and Steve were glorified puppets to the likes of Stechner whilst the CIA was up to its neck in corruption.

“These, er, these are all beautiful,” he managed to get out, hoping that the last few seconds had gone unnoticed, as unlikely as that was.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything else while you wait, dear?”

That was the next question Javier heard, but he couldn’t be sure if he had zoned out and missed a whole chunk of conversation.

"Er, no, thanks, I'm good."

Without meaning to, his eyes scanned between the clock and the door again, an irrational hope taking hold that if he stared at either long enough, he could make Horacio appear by sheer willpower alone. However, as the second hand on the clock ticked and ticked, he was back in that damn hospital bed. Waiting, waiting, waiting. That was all he could do, unable to get comfortable as each movement was a red-hot poker jabbing in his ribs. But he would take that any day over the crushing, suffocating, nauseating dread that weighed on his chest like a foreshadowing of death. Not his death, although it would have been in all but name if the pendulum of fate had swung the other way.

“Javier? Are you alright, my dear?”

Javier was back in the café, a light sheen of sweat gathering on his skin as he tried to shove whatever the fuck that was back in its box. “Er, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.”

“Why don’t I pour us some lemonade upstairs once you’ve finished your coffee? I’ll ask Luisa to send Horacio up when he gets here.”

Javier expected his instincts to push him towards the door and back to the apartment, but they didn’t. Instead, they saw the genuine concern on Señora Romero’s face and the kindness in her gesture. They saw the glimmer of faded memories of his Mamá taking care of him, knowing this wasn’t the same, but also that it didn’t need to be. And so he did the only thing he could.

“That’d be good, thanks.”

------------------------------------------------------

Álvaro brought over two coffees from the kiosk by the park entrance to a nearby seating area of tables and chairs. The previous day’s rain still clung to the stainless steel furniture and explained why there weren’t as many people around them as on a scorching hot day. But that worked in their favour.

They sat opposite each other across a table suffering from a wobbly leg, Horacio in his jogging pants and a somewhat sweaty t-shirt, and Álvaro apparently in yesterday's suit, shirt and skewwhiff tie, if their crumpled appearance and less than fresh aroma were anything to go by. A far cry from the pristine CNP-issued uniforms and tailored suits picked out by Álvaro’s wife their last meeting saw them wearing.

As Horacio took a sip of coffee, he noticed Álvaro reach into the inside pocket of his jacket and pull out a hip flask.

Álvaro lifted the plastic lid from his cup, poured a generous measure from the flask and offered the same to Horacio.

Horacio raised his hand and shook his head. “Bit early for me.”

They made small talk, Horacio managing to be as vague as possible regarding his reasons for living here again. “Taking a break in a beautiful city” and “Catching up with old friends” were about the gist of it. But he wasn’t exactly forthcoming with information the first time, so his stunted replies weren’t out of character.

Álvaro was equally brief about the details of his life, which was out of character now Horacio thought about it. Álvaro used to talk about his family as much as his work. His wife was his rock, his kids were his pride and joy, and his brother was progressing at pace through the military ranks. But this time, he confirmed they were doing well and left it at that before getting down to business.

“An anonymous tip-off recently fell into the DEA’s lap. Lots of juicy details about Cali. The gringos are working their way through the intel, and it flagged up more links to our old friends in Galicia. There were sightings of Pacho Herrera up there, plus some of his associates are based in Madrid. So that’s opened a huge fucking can of worms.”

Horacio had a terrible time trying to stifle a reaction to the mention of a tip-off. There was nothing 'anonymous' about it from the DEA’s point of view, not even when it came to the intel's delivery.

The last time he was here, the Galician traffickers were working with Escobar. And whilst Horacio’s redeployment was conducted from behind a desk for the majority, his colleagues had chewed his ear off about various Colombian names that came up in reports or wiretaps. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest that the Spanish clans had moved on to Cali.

Álvaro lit a cigarette as he talked, offering up a second one from his almost-empty carton.

But Horacio declined, instead taking another sip of his drink. “Sounds promising. But Álvaro, Cali is a different beast to Medellín. They’re more discreet, professional, and they have powerful friends in high places.”

“I know. But we have to try, right? Look at Operación Nécora. Sooner or later, someone gets sloppy, drops the ball, turns on one of their own, or kills the wrong person. And then we win.”

Watching Álvaro chug back his Irish coffee in one hand with a smouldering cigarette perched in his other was like looking in a mirror to the past. And it wasn’t a pretty sight.

When Horacio was in the fray, it had been too easy to focus solely on the case in front of him, convincing himself it would all be over soon if he just shut down one more lab and seized one more kilo or wad of cash. Or tortured one more suspect. But it was never enough and never would be. He had been fighting a losing battle that had no likely ending in sight, even if the individuals and locations were a perpetual revolving door.

“I’m not sure there are winners in any of this,” he said, the resignation heavy in his tone.

“Shit, you really have changed.”

“Maybe.”

“Last time I saw you, you were raining fire and brimstone upon the narcos. What the fuck happened?”

“Do you know how many funerals I’ve been to, Álvaro? Or how many people I’ve killed? Because I don’t. I stopped counting. Then Escobar tried to have me killed – and nearly succeeded.”

“Woah, woah, what?”

“I took a bullet here,” Horacio gestured to his right shoulder, “and nearly bled out. The doctors said I was lucky I was brought in so fast.” Although Horacio knew a lot more than luck was involved.

“Shit, Horacio.”

“Yeah. So, it’s easy for you to keep fighting when you haven’t lost as many times as I have.”

“Because no one else could possibly have lost anything as well, right?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Sounded like it to me. And you’ve got no fucking idea.” Álvaro slammed his cup down on the table, the force of its impact splashing coffee droplets in all directions.

Horacio opted not to make a fuss but he could have sworn he saw the reflection of tears in Álvaro’s eyes as they focused on their drinks in silence. “Did something happen?”

“What gave it away?” Álvaro gestured towards himself, acknowledging his worse-for-wear state. He leaned his elbow on the table, head held in his hands, and ran his fingers through his hair. “There was another bombing. Last June. An army transporter was targeted by 40 kilos of explosives left in a parked car. My brother, Jaime, was...he was there…and didn’t make it.”

“Fuck, Álvaro. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” Except, in a roundabout way, he did have some idea. Because back in Colombia, it was Horacio who delivered such news to countless families like the Molinas.

“No, well, you wouldn’t.” He took out the hip flask again, draining whatever was left into his coffee cup and knocking it back. “Not least of all because I lied about him earlier. Sorry about that, by the way. Still not very good at this sort of thing.”

“No, of course. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Your dad was a cop too, right? Before he…passed away.”

“Yeah, he was.”

“I remember you telling me. It was about the only thing I got out of you, come to think of it.”

Half a rebellious smile broke through Horacio’s tightly pursed lips. “Yeah, well, I guess I wasn’t very good at this sort of thing either.”

“But you are now?”

“Better than I was. Better now I’m not trying to be him. Now I realise he was as flawed as the rest of us.”

“Yeah, trying to follow in the footsteps of a high-achiever in the family will fuck you up for life. Or so I’ve heard.”

Horacio didn’t know a lot about Jaime but was aware he was 10 years older than Álvaro. From the way Álvaro talked, it was clear how much he hero-worshipped his big brother. And if anyone knew the pitfalls of such high pedestals, it was Horacio.

“Sounds familiar. As much as I’ve always missed him, I was glad he never saw me at my worst.”

“All I wanted was for Jaime to be proud of me, and I think he was.” Álvaro’s eyes lit up, and for the first time during their conversation, the wrinkles of his smile reached them. “But I’m not sure he’d even recognise me if he saw me now.”

“The paradox of grief.”

“What?”

Another smile crept over Horacio’s face. “Just something someone once said to me. Whatever you do, it’ll never feel enough now he’s gone.”

“Never thought of it like that. But it’s not just a dead man I’m letting down. My wife tried so hard with me; she really did. But…the nightmares started. They were always about trying to save Jaime, but I couldn’t. So I drank ‘til I was comatose. Then work got crazy and things spiralled. She didn’t think it was good for me to be around the kids, and well, I can’t argue with that.”

Álvaro unloaded a jumble of words in one fell swoop, catching Horacio off guard as he tried to take it all in. But it wasn’t as though it was unfamiliar territory for him. It wasn’t as though he had no experiences of his own to share, experiences he had only ever opened up to Javier about until now.

“That was my life, for a long time, without the wife and kids, obviously. But the nightmares and the drinking got bad after I...I accidentally killed someone I was sent to rescue.”

“Shit, Horacio. You never said anything when you were – wait a minute – is that why you were here in the first place?”

“Surprisingly, no.” Horacio let out a hollow laugh at the fact the death of Diana Turbay wasn’t his superiors’ red line. “I’m sure it didn’t help my cause, but the final straw came when I led a raid on a nightclub. We took down some high-level sicarios, but a bystander got caught in the crossfire.”

“Fuck. There were so many rumours about you, no one knew what to believe. I heard you took out Escobar’s cousin, but surely they wouldn’t exile a hero.”

“I’m not a fucking hero, Álvaro.”

“Ha! So, it was true.”

Horacio said nothing, his silence giving Álvaro the answer he was looking for.

“You can’t tell me you’re sorry about that.”

“I’m not. And I don’t regret everything I did.” It was the truth. He wasn’t trying to atone for some of those fuckers getting what they deserved. They weren’t why he walked away. “But you know what they say…old sins cast long shadows. These things stay with you, whether you’re the one killing or it’s the people around you being killed.”

“So, what are you saying? That it’s too late for damaged goods like us?” There was a desperate crack in Álvaro’s voice as though he was looking to Horacio to confirm his fears and put him out of his misery once and for all.

“You probably don’t want to hear it right now, but…it doesn’t always have to be like this. It’s not easy, and it takes time, but it can get better.”

“You’re right. I didn’t want to hear that.” Álvaro kept his features neutral until he caught Horacio’s eye and they both laughed, because what else could they do?

“Neither did I, for years. Because it felt impossible. But no amount of punishing yourself will bring him back or change the past.”

“There’s quite a team set up now,” Álvaro continued after a long silence, as though he hadn’t heard a single word Horacio had said. “From your end, our end, the DEA, Interpol, the SVA. You name it, we’ve got fingers in the pie. And there’s always room for more.”

Álvaro looked at Horacio with great expectation, waiting for an answer to an unspoken question until he could wait no more. “Horacio, you know what it’s like more than most dealing with these people. And you remember how it was last time. Couldn’t so much as talk about the weather without it getting back to someone up there.”

That much was true. The situation in Galicia was eerily reminiscent of Medellín. Homegrown police taking bribes left, right and centre and passing on intel to the trafficking clans. Politicians’ and judges’ integrity in tatters because they, too, turned a blind eye. The Colombian cartels made Galicia their gateway into Europe. And their success was thanks to the layer upon layer of corruption that was allowed to exist.

“No.”

“Come on, at least think about it. There’d be none of that pen-pushing bullshit this time. You could be out in the field again, it’d be just like the old days back in—”

“Álvaro, I said no.” Horacio didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to with how his steely glare and steadfast jaw framed his face. “I’m done with it for good. End of story.”

Álvaro raised his arms in surrender, his second cigarette of their meeting now burning between his fingers. “Alright, alright, I get the message. Can’t blame me for asking now I know you’re back.” He raised the cigarette to his lips, regarding Horacio with increasing intrigue through the wisps of smoke hanging between them. “So, who is it, then?”

“What?”

“Whoever’s convinced you to quit and move here. Must be serious. And don’t lie because I know there’s someone.”

“Your interrogation skills need more work, Molina. And on that note, I better be going. You’re making me late for an appointment.”

“Nice deflection there, Carrillo. I’m just saying; they must be the love of your fucking life to give it all up.”

There was a scrape of metal against the floor as Horacio rose from his chair, not dignifying Álvaro’s prying with a response, even though it was the naked truth.

“Alright, fine, fine! I can take a hint. I’ll keep my mouth shut from now on.” Álvaro brought a hand to his lips, ‘zipping’ them closed with his thumb and forefinger.

Horacio sat back down with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it. Good for you, in fact. It’s hard enough to find someone like that in the first place, but to hold onto them and make it work? Nothing short of a fucking miracle. But you know where I am if you ever change your mind.”

“Thanks, but I won’t.”

“Thought you might say that.”

“If you ever change your mind, please think about what I said. You can’t run away from this. No matter how much you bury your head in your job. It doesn’t work like that.”

“I can’t make any promises, Horacio. You know how it is.”

Of course, he knew; that was precisely why he was saying it in the first place. But he also knew there was no point pushing it any further. “It was good to see you, Álvaro. And I am sorry about Jaime.”

“Me too. And er, thanks. For listening and everything. I really appreciate it. Although, I gotta ask, when did you get so fucking wise?”

Horacio laughed, assured there was no malice in Álvaro’s teasing, and because he had apparently accomplished what he was expecting to wait years, if not decades to do. “I’m afraid I can’t take all the credit.”

“Should’ve known. Good to see you, Horacio. Don’t leave it so long next time. And I hate to say it, but retirement already suits you.”

“Thanks, I think. Take care of yourself.”

They stood up from the table, deposited their empty cups in a nearby bin and walked back to the entrance that took them onto the main road.

After shaking hands, they went their separate ways, Horacio in one direction and Álvaro in the opposite.

It wasn’t long ago that Horacio lamented turning his back on the CNP. But as he broke into a run to mitigate his uncharacteristic lateness, he caught glimpses of familiar church spires towering over every other building. They had been a comforting backdrop to his guilt and shame, and whilst he would always carry them around for certain deeds, it wasn’t a place he ever wanted to revisit. And the next time his lapel pins found themselves between his fingers, or Trujillo still called him Colonel out of habit, he would be reminded it was okay to miss something but never want it back.

------------------------------------------------------

Javier sat stiffly on Señora Romero’s floral sofa, clenching and unclenching his fists to distract himself from the creeping sense of embarrassment setting in.

Señora Romero joined him in the neighbouring chair, a tray of lemonade and a selection of pastries from downstairs placed between them on the table.

“Have you eaten anything this morning, dear?”

“Not really, no.”

“Well, that won’t do. Here, take some. Don’t be shy.” She practically shoved the plate at Javier, stopping short of placing one of the pastries in his mouth.

“Thanks. And sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”

“From what Horacio told me, I’d say it’s understandable. For both of you.” Señora Romero gave the tall jug of lemonade a final stir, then poured it into two ice-filled tumblers, handing one to Javier and settling back in her chair.

Javier thanked her as he accepted a glass, wasting no time quenching his dry mouth.

“And it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Señora Romero continued. “My country went from the Civil War to Franco for over three decades. Not to mention the violence in the Basque region, and the bombings here, of course. People don’t like to talk about it much, but the scars are still as plain as day.”

Javier wasn’t exactly an expert in Spanish history, but he knew the basics. And hearing them listed together suddenly made his experiences seem tame by comparison. Not that he thought for a second that was Señora Romero’s intention, but it gave him a large dose of perspective.

“I never talked to anyone before Horacio, to be honest. Same for him with me, but it took me longer to get there.”

“My husband rarely told me what he’d seen and done in the war. He thought I wouldn’t understand, and maybe I didn’t. Maybe I couldn’t. But we survived the same storm in the end, even though we were sometimes in different boats.”

“It was a while ‘til we were in the same boat. Even now, sometimes we’re not,” Javier said as his mind drifted with a smile to their conflicting views and priorities over the years.

In theory, it shouldn’t have gone the way it did. They may have shared the same broad goal in Colombia, but they came at it from different angles. They weren’t supposed to trust and understand each other more than anyone else. They weren’t supposed to walk away from their all-consuming careers for each other, and they certainly weren’t supposed to fall in love. But life had a funny way of working out.

As for their current situation, they were dealing with things in their own way and in their own time. It was never going to be something they could coordinate. But even so, it frustrated Javier when he spiralled seemingly out of nowhere. Except, was it really out of nowhere? It was all a blur now.

“In my experience, sometimes you can’t be,” Señora Romero said. “And sometimes, you won’t want to be. Sometimes, you float alongside each other in your own boats. And sometimes, it’s good enough just to sail in the same direction at different paces.”

“He’s never late. And I guess it’s force of habit to assume the worst.” Javier wasn’t expecting to say that, but it was like someone had just removed their foot from his chest. It was an admission to himself as much as Señora Romero, confirmation that it hadn’t been out of nowhere at all.

Señora Romero merely nodded, giving Javier the space to continue if he wanted to.

“On the night of the ambush, Steve – my partner – and I weren’t supposed to be there. I’m not sure we were ever supposed to be in Colombia, to be honest.”

Javier stopped to let out a sceptical sneer as snippets of his encounters with Stechner replayed in his head. For all he knew, Stechner could have orchestrated his entire career, manoeuvring him around like a pawn on a chessboard.

“But we disobeyed orders and followed Horacio anyway. And then we, er…we heard gunfire and screaming over the radio. It was the longest car journey of my life.” He took another sip of his drink and a deep breath, determined to finish now he’d started. “It was the same at the hospital and after the bombing here. Always waiting, but never knowing where he was or if he was okay.”

“Oh, Javier, my dear, it makes complete sense you would think the worst. I would be the same in your shoes. But you have to remember, he’s a civilian now. He’s not a target anymore. The ETA bombings here have been directed at the Spanish authorities.”

Señora Romero leaned forwards until her hand met Javier’s. Shades of chestnut connected with cinnamon again as he squeezed as a gesture of thanks. Neither appeared fazed by this being their first meeting, perhaps finding it easier because they simultaneously didn’t know much about each other but enough to no longer be strangers.

“And for what it’s worth,” she continued, “regardless of the rights or wrongs of your government’s involvement in foreign affairs, it seems you were exactly where you were supposed to be that night.”

Touché. He couldn’t argue with that, the irony apparent of Steve previously framing Javier’s need to follow Horacio as a warning rather than a calling.

“I may have only just met you, Javier, but I know what you did for Horacio that night was a brave act of love. Wanting to help is an honourable trait, don’t ever forget that. But you might find you’re not worrying yourself sick so much once you’re focused on helping others again. And someone out there will always need it, wherever life takes you next.”

Javier scoffed before gulping down the rest of his lemonade. “I think that’s the problem.”

Señora Romero’s hosting instincts kicked in as she re-filled Javier’s glass.

“Thanks. Horacio got out a year before me and settled in working on my Pop’s ranch. Way more than I ever did.” Javier cringed at some of the memories of him in his pre-police days attempting various jobs that Horacio took to like a duck to water, whereas he had floundered.

“Is that what he wants to do?”

“I think so. Which is great; he’s a natural. It suits him.”

“But you don’t know what’s next for you?”

“Not a clue.” Not a fucking clue was more accurate, but he caught himself just in time.

“Do you need to have it figured out yet?”

“Well, no, not yet. We’re okay financially for now. But I know it can’t last forever.”

“There’s plenty of time between now and forever, Javier.” Señora Romero lowered her voice as though she was letting him in on a coveted secret. “At your age, anyway. Less so at mine, but I take each day as it comes.”

“What’s that like?”

“There are good days and bad days. And bad weeks, months and years, come to think of it. Days when my body doesn’t do what my mind tells it to do. Days when my mind is frail, and my heart is sore. But on other days, I’ll spend time with the family. Or my piononos will come out better than they did last time. Or I’ll make new friends in unusual circumstances.” She winked in Javier’s direction. “I think the bad days are just part of life’s rich tapestry. Especially where healing wounds are concerned.”

Occasional reminders of the past – or bad days – scattered amongst the simple pleasures sounded suspiciously like their time in Madrid so far. But maybe that was okay. Maybe, that was part of the process of moving on with their lives. Maybe, progress was supposed to be subtle and non-linear, almost imperceptible unless you knew what you were looking for.

No sooner had Javier got his head around that prospect than there was a knock at the door followed by a heartfelt apology, given and accepted with a look as much as words.

Of course, Señora Romero had been right, and there was no life-or-death emergency to attend to. But any embarrassment on Javier’s part was overridden by the relief his fears were unfounded, and he would gladly take an anxious mind rather than the alternative.

Pulses returned to baseline as the trio talked, albeit Horacio’s for a different reason than Javier's.

Whilst Madrid wasn’t Laredo, they couldn’t take acceptance for granted wherever they were. But as they returned downstairs, where Señora Romero removed the ‘Reserved’ sign from their corner table and offered them yet another breakfast on the house, a weight lifted from Horacio’s shoulders. Because the first real friend he made here had welcomed him and Javier into her home and business with open arms.

[yourladystar]

Star's Engage Catalogue Day 34 (part 5)

I feel that it's only right to showcase the final team that will be joining me.

And I have to split it into 2 posts because Tumblr has a 10-picture limit.

Don't really think I have to explain why Alear has been a strong fighter. You see those stats and you see why I had Marth stick with him, those two are a perfect fit.

But I wanna talk about how shocked I am by Alear's character. He's genuinely up there with Corrin and Shez as one of the best avatars this series has done. His story is engaging, he's a joy to watch in anything he does or says, his voice acting is immaculate, he's so God flippin adorable! I'll definitely talk more about him another time, but he managed to become one of my favorite characters in all of Fire Emblem, something I never expected to happen playing this game!

Again, don't think I need to explain why a dancer is good. And while Corrin worked with him for a while, Byleth is a better option, especially with the stats he gives.

And Seadall surprised me with his character. His alluring nature and way of speaking, his wisdom and experience from his past, the struggles he deals with from his lifestyle, and the way he can inspire others even when he doesn't believe in himself. I don't know how some of y'all can say he's boring, this sh*t is lovely.

Also he's pretty as hell, but I think you can see that.

Rosado has been a reliable fighter who can just about any enemy I have him face. Good stats, weapon variety and flyer mobility make him extremely versatile. Leif has been the best fit for him, since his stat boosts and skills work best for how Rosado functions in battle.

His character is also wonderful. A perfect evolution of Forrest and wonderful rep for trans, genderfluid, crossdresser's, and gender questioning people in a time where they really need positive representation. Plus he's spunky and sassy while also being caring and supportive.

Amber is a weirdly good example of hard-hitting but fragile. His low speed and res make him susceptible to one-hit kills, but the enemy can't do that if he doesn't kill them in one hit first. Eirika also works weirdly well for him, as the twins' skills suit whatever I need him to do that turn.

But I can overlook all of that for his character. I love this doof! He's so dumb and goofy but filled with so much positivity and cheerfulness it's hard not to smile at his antics. Even when he royally f*cks something up, you can't help but smile and go, "Youre doing amazing, sweetie."

Alcryst might just be the strongest member of my team and Lyn really helped to bring out his true potential. Her skills perfectly suit his play style and ensure that any he fights will not survive, whether it'd be death by crit, death by Luna, or Alacrity stopping the opponent from even fighting back. And with me giving him avoidance skill, literally nothing can even touch him. It's honestly ridiculous how busted this unit is.

And don't get me started on how much I love this little skrunkly! He stole my love the second his first scene ended and it only got better with each scene he got. I just wanted this boy to have love and happiness and seeing him get that from everyone in his life- his brother, his retainers, his friends, his boyfriend- they all just make me smile.

Alfred has a rocky middle, but he really picked up. Once I started utilizing the resources I got and realized that he got swords after being promoted, Alfred really came into his own and started being a powerhouse. Sigurd has been his Emblem since the start. No one else can really utilize his movement the same way Alfred does.

Alfred also shocked me with his character. I already liked him enough for the goofy and entertaining meathead he was, but the second I unlocked his A-support with Céline, everything I perceived about him changed! He went from being just a fun and silly presence to one of the most tragic yet hopeful characters in this. Someone who, even knowing they have little time left, refuses to give up and continues to strive forward to protect everything and everyone he cares. Someone who doesn't ask for your pity and will always be put you first.

I couldn't have picked a better person to give the Pact Ring to.

Alflear for life, baby!

Zelkov is a unit that started off good and continued to be good throughout the entire game. I've never been in a position where it felt like bringing him along was an inconvenience, even when there was no chest for him to unlock. Hell, for the longest time, he didn't even need an Emblem to assist him, but when I did decide to give him one, the Three Houses lords for him like a glove.

And God, I love listening to him talk! I had no idea what to expect out of him during the lead-up to Engage, but I am so happy with what I got. An enigmatic and mysterious yet sweet, caring, and helpful man who seems like an autistic coded goat on the surface but is just using his many hobbies to avoid dealing with the trauma of his childhood- that is right up my alley!

I'll do the second half in the next post.

[fontasticcrablettes]

Tales of Sexylady Poll Results

The poll finished with 204 responses! Thank you everyone for participating. As last time, I reserved 5 spots for write-in votes. I'll post the final bracket in a bit, but for now, here is a summary of the results.

First, a shout-out to the lovely ladies who didn't quite make the cut. Everyone on the list got voted for at least once, so they are all appreciated by someone, but they just didn't have the numbers. Many of these characters suffered from the simple fact that their games are not readily accessible to the Western fanbase, so let's hope for translations and ports in the future so everyone can appreciate them!

In order, the honourable mentions (and number of votes) are:

Mary (30)

Mint (24)

Hilda (20)

Sodia (20)

Ines (19)

Rondoline (18)

Schwartz (17)

Ange (16)

Shizel (16)

Harold (13)

Atwight (11)

Ilene (11)

Nanaly (11)

Philia (10)

Mathias (8)

Elrane (7)

Symonne (6)

Almeidrea (6)

Peridot (4)

Lilith (4)

Agarte (3)

Incarose (3)

Beryl (3)

Fortuna (3)

Zilva (2)

Thitose (1)

Let's have a moment of silence for Thitose, the character who remained at 0 votes for the longest time, and only secured a single vote in the end.

The Winning Write-Ins

41 characters were submitted for consideration. The top 5 earned a slot in the final bracket. They are:

Mary Kaufman

Pronyma

Driselle Sharil

Nephry

And the 5th slot will go to Replica Nebilim, winner of the Nebilim-off hosted earlier today. Both Nebilims had an equal number of votes... probably. As discussed earlier, I counted "Nebilim (unspecified)" as the Replica version.

The next two most popular write-ins were Laplace from Luminaria, and Undine. I'm not sure which Undine, that is. Some voters specified the Symphonia version while others didn't specify. I think we will have to have a spirit tourney in the future to clear everything up.

In a similar situation are the spirits Luna and Celsius. Tied with them are Fourier from graces, Seres from Berseria, and Noir from Abyss.

Finally, the following characters all got 2 votes each: Aqua, the Baticul Lesbian, Jozette Cecille, Karla Outway, Kasque, Lisette, Mesissa, and Mileena. I hope Baticul Lesbian is happy being in a group with Cecille.

There isn't time to list every write-in who got only 1 vote, but here are some of my favourites:

Anna Irving. I respect a woman who is sexy purely on vibes.

"Captain Aqua from Tales of Hearts r is the sexiest Tales lady to me hands down I don't even know if she's 18+ because she doesn't even have a page on Aselia and she kinda looks like a Bratz doll but she's a badass pirate captain and her color scheme of purple and yellow looks so good istg." I respect you and I believe you, anon. I can't even find a picture of her when I google, so I'll have to take your word on it, but I'm sorry no one else shared your passion.

Morgrim. My good friend. This is a cat.

"Marble (ToS) (listen I know she's old but sexiness is in the heart)." You know what anon? Marble is a grandmother, which means she is a mother to someone who is also a mother, so that's like, MILF x 2. It's simple math.

Thanks for participating!

[a-mess-of-a-crow]

Yall, just so you know this is anonymous, so I can't see who would vote no.

Also

Hi! I'm Craven!

I'm a wanna be artist with absolute crushed self esteem that desperately needs validation to get self worth and on the other hand doesn't believe that people's compliments are valid!

So basically= A self made self esteem issue!

I jump from hobby to hobby like a whore, making music, crotchet, animation, drawing, learning japanese (and failing miserably 😊), gave up on learning danish, learning guitar and keyboard, I used to make iron pellet art (hard to make with shaky ass hands)

Das me btw! In all my glory! (Wet socks in the sand, God fears me)

(me in school and my new jacket, old pic, Mochi laughed a lot :> )

Boring facts=

I'm 20 and a mess cuz since 2015 I've been simping over undertale like a Maniac (it's been better these days, but tumblr temporarily pushed me back into the obsession)

I'm a cat/ dog fanatic, but always crows before hoes

My favorite colors are purple, red, blue and black

I'm definitely demisexual polyamourous, but pan or polyromantic? I dunno lol.

Also genderfluid (altho i personally never really know what gender I feel like in the moment)

I have an absolute hopeless love for my aro/ace best friend who is called Mochi and she is the best and literally only real (real life) friend I ever had

Totally not my dumb brain starved for human connection and then immediately clinging to whoever is being a decent person to me

Luckily she is also a bomb person and kind so she doesn't use me like my other friendships XD

How did Red Mass start?

To get an idea of what my AU is, you gotta know how my dumb brain thought of it.

2015. I was absolutely sucked into Undertale after watching a german YouTuber play it, and then I started watching a certain Irish fella play it as well.

I started watching comic dubs of all the Au's that people made, faning out and just binged watched everything relating to it.

Then my family and I had vacation.

A trip to Rome (it was hot and awful, never again. Fucking 40°C celsius are you kidding me?)

It was a 15 hour trip (with bathroom/ smoker breaks)

And i layed in the back of the car, daydreaming about all those Au's.

It was awesome and cool and I slowly started to MAYBE get pandora syndrome of where I desperately wanted to be a part of those stories (I know. Cringe)

It got so bad that I maaaaybe cried in bed every night hoping I'd just wake up in the stories (but my life sucks so that also played a role)

So on that car ride, Luna lovania (god the cringe hurts me badly) was born.

A skeleton oc at first, later being an oc that is a fusion of Frisk and sans (which still is a part of Red Mass)

I daydreamed 15 hours + 15 hours back about Red Mass, it was such bliss (and even while we were in Rome)

And since that point, I have kept daydreaming every day for 8 years, and it became a big part of my life (as ridiculous as this sounds)

I just realized I might be insane.

Oh well

I will make a specific Red Mass post, explaining the story a bit and character introduction ((but not revealing too many spoilers since I kinda wanna make it into a thing))

I hope you guys mean it if you say you're interested :)