#and by wrong i mean in one of the ways i expect it to go

[wolvietxt]

★ logan can’t sleep without you

a/n : shorter thoughts formatted like this now! (~800 words)

logan had spent the first hour lying still, one arm thrown over his face, trying to block out the dim light filtering in from the window. he’d turned over a few times, each time expecting to feel you beside him, your steady breathing lulling him to sleep, but the space was empty. cold.

he grumbled to himself, shifting his body again, tossing the blanket off because suddenly it felt too hot. you weren’t gone for long. just out of town for a few days, something you had to take care of. you’d kissed him before you left, told him not to worry. he didn’t. not in the way you probably thought, anyway.

but this... this wasn’t normal. he could feel the fatigue in his bones, weighing down on him like gravity, but sleep just wouldn’t come. his mind kept wandering back to the same thought. you. where you were, what you were doing. it wasn’t that he doubted you could handle yourself. hell, you were tougher than most people he knew. it wasn’t even that.

it was the goddamn silence. the empty space next to him where you should’ve been. it was all wrong.

logan rolled over again, eyes squeezing shut as if forcing them closed would somehow drag him into sleep. his body ached from the day’s work, muscles heavy and begging for rest, but his mind refused to follow. his thoughts were too loud, too restless. he’d grown too used to your presence beside him. too used to the way your fingers would brush against his skin unconsciously in the middle of the night, grounding him in that quiet way only you could.

he opened his eyes again, staring at the ceiling. “this is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, voice low and rough. 

another hour passed with no sleep in sight, and his frustration was only growing. he shifted again, flipping onto his side and glaring at the empty space where you’d normally be curled up against him. 

the sound of the front door unlocking made him sit up quickly, heart kicking up a beat, though he’d never admit it. he listened as your footsteps padded softly into the room, and there you were - finally. you smiled at him, a bit tired but happy to be home.

“hey,” you whispered, setting your bag down quietly. “didn’t mean to wake you.”

“you didn’t,” logan muttered, voice rougher than usual. he tried to play it cool, but he was already moving over, making space for you in the bed, his eyes glued to your every movement. “couldn’t sleep.”

you paused, giving him a curious look. “couldn’t sleep?” you repeated, pulling off your jacket and slipping into bed beside him. 

logan huffed. “don’t make a thing outta it,” he grumbled, but the second you were close enough, he wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you against his chest. “just… missed you, is all.”

you couldn’t help but smile at how gruff he sounded, the way his words were soft despite the grumbling. “i missed you too,” you whispered, snuggling into him. you could feel how tightly he was holding onto you, something protective in the way his body curled around yours.

“yeah, well… don’t leave again,” he muttered, his hand coming up to brush the hair from your face, his touch surprisingly gentle. he pressed a kiss to your temple, a little grumpy but undeniably affectionate.

“you got all needy without me, huh?” you teased lightly, expecting him to grumble back, but instead, he just pulled you closer, his face buried in your hair.

“maybe,” he mumbled against your skin, his voice barely above a whisper. 

your heart softened at his admission. it wasn’t like him to need anyone, let alone admit it, but there he was, holding onto you like you were the only thing that could give him peace. 

you smiled into the darkness, your fingers tracing small circles on his arm. “i’m not going anywhere.”

logan didn’t say anything else, just pressed his face closer to your neck, breathing you in, like that alone was enough to finally let him relax. within minutes, his breathing slowed, his grip around you loosening slightly as sleep finally took over.

you stayed like that, wrapped up in his warmth, his usual tough exterior softened just for you. and as you drifted off, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that despite all his grumbling, despite how hard he tried to hide it, he needed you as much as you needed him.

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[wordsarelife]

—mine

pairing: theo nott x fem!reader

summary: your’s and theo's relationship throughout the years

warnings: canon typical violence near the end, mentions of the war, blood and death

note: feel free to request stuff for the christmas calender!!

theo was startled by a sudden voice who called out his name, he turned around, the book he was about to push into the empty space still in his hand. 

"nott" you had muttered, arms crossed and the surprised expression on his face when he turned around had almost made you lose it. you quirked a brow at the missing reaction. "i guess you don't even know my name?" 

"sorry" theo winced and you could see how umcomfortable he was simply because he knew nothing about the person standing in front of him. 

"don't feel too bad" you shrugged. "didn't know yours until you borrowed my favorite book for four weeks and i had to beg madam pince to tell me the name of the person who had it" 

"well, sorry again" theo held the book in your direction. "you can have it now, if you still want it" 

you completely ignored the book, until theo sighed and put it back in the empty space on the shelf where it belonged. "guess not" he muttered to himself. 

"so, tell me, theodore nott" you followed him back to the table with his things. "what tempts a guy like you to borrow a book like that?" 

"well, without meaning to insult you, i'd say it is more male literature than female isn't it?"

"you're a moron if you really think something like female or male literature exists" you sat down in the chair across from him. "i wouldn't declare sherlock holmes as male literature, more preciously i would say that most boys are too daft to even understand half the things arthur conan doyle mentions and to your information i'm taking great insult to whatever the hell you just said"

"geez" theo's eyes had widened, he found you a bit odd, annoying even, but he couldn't help but feel all the same intrigued. "like what you just said isn't an insult. most boys are too daft, huh?" 

"maybe daft is a bit too harsh, i admit that" you rolled your eyes, a smile on your lips, "but i'd say most are too impatient to read those books, yes"

"well, you're not wrong about that" theo nodded "i can't remember the last time one of my friends touched a book that wasn't part of a class" 

"that's quiet sad, i'd say"

"i agree" theo smiled. "so, now that we're on the same page, do you mind telling me your name? i feel like i deserve to know it"

"no" you grinned just as the smile vanished from his face. "i decide when you deserve to know, theodore nott" you left him sitting there, speechless about the sudden rejection. 

you never actually told theo your name. he only found out when you managed to borrow the memoirs of sherlock holmes for two months straight. 

the next time that the two of you talked was a few months later, at the beginning of december. snow had fallen and the hogwarts grounds had turned into a beautiful white landscape. 

the snow was poudry, but you managed not to slip as you made your way through it. your body tightly wrapped in layers of clothing, the thick ravenclaw scarf almost reaching up to your eyes as the falling snow hit your face. 

"not the right weather for a stroll, is it?" theodore nott had caught up to you, not exactly spotting the right outfit for the wuthering cold. 

"well, i know there's a reason you're a slytherin and not a ravenclaw, but i would've expected you to be just a little smarter, nott" 

theo looked down on his clothes just as you did. "i was actually just going for a smoke"

"in the middle of a mild snowstorm?" you quirked a brow. "i'd say it's not the right weather to be doing that either"

"you're a real know-it-all" 

"tell me something new, nott" you rolled your eyes "it's exhausting to always be right, you know?"

"i bet it is" theo shrugged sarcastically. "there had to have been a reason you got sorted into ravenclaw"

"well, as said before, i can see why you weren't" you shrugged with a grin. 

theo sighed. "another dig at the outfit, really?" 

"well, considering you're standing here discussing with me and getting yourself wet, i'd say i'm allowed to keep judging your outfit" 

"fair point" theo nodded and you were surprised he gave up so easily. "are you coming or what?" he asked, ready to walk back inside.

"no" you shook your head "you go ahead though, wouldn't want you catching a cold, who would faint during potions then and entertain the rest of the class?"

"hey, that was one time" he called, as you walked away "how did you even hear about that, we're not in the same potions class?"

you just shrugged and send him a smile over your shoulder. he was standing in front of the doors to the castle, soaked from head to toe and you had to admit, theodore nott was a (beautiful) sight for sore eyes. 

it wasn't like you minded theo's company, but you noticed how he started hanging around the places you frequently visited during the weeks to come. 

theo had it especially easy when he realized that you stuck to your routines during the week, making it impossible for him to miss you once he had figured it out. 

monday and wednesdays after class were spent in the library, doing homework or reading a book from your list. tuesdays you helped madam pomfrey in the infirmary, healing minor injuries or filling up medicine cabinets. thursdays were reserved for your friends, playing card games or just spending time together in the common room, you always found something to do. 

fridays were flexible and you often decided what to do spontaneously. sometimes you did a little tutoring, on other fridays you helped madam pince sort through books and put them back where they belonged or you continued reading the book you had begun reading that week. saturdays and sundays were for remaining homework, hogsmeade visits and drafting letters to send back to your family on the start of the next week. 

"you're not being slick, you know that?"

it was a friday and you were putting away books, when theo kept lingering around you, like he had done that past week. 

"what?" he asked, looking up from the book in front of him, a confused tone to his voice, clearly trying to mask that he knew exactly what you were talking about.

"well, i was sure you knew stalking was considered a legal offence" you noted.

"stalking?" he repeated. "i'm not stalking you"

"now, you're not not stalking me, are you?" you send a tight-lipped smile in his direction. "i do admit that it might be a question of definition, though" 

"aren't you a bit full of yourself if you think i would be stalking you"

"that was offensive" you rolled your eyes "and i'm pretty sure i'm not imaging you turning up everywhere i went this past week. and considering i didn't know you until a few months ago, i'd say that you only started doing that recently"

"well, i didn't"

"okay, you didn't" your shrugged and turned back to the shelf, reaching for another row of books from the trolley beside you, before you pushed them in a row one after the other. 

theo furrowed his brows, surprised by you just letting him get away like that. he knew he wasn't being slick, hell, he even knew that he was behaving like a stalker. you weren't wrong in the slightest and theo felt a bit called out by your words. but on the other hand, you hadn't said anything about being opposed to the idea that he really did go everywhere you did.

you waved at him, before you pushed the trolley into the next row of shelves. it didn't take long for him to follow, already making a decision in his mind. 

"go out with me" 

if he had startled you, you didn't show it. you didn't even blink at his suggestion, rather ignoring him like he was a fly on the wall, as you continued reaching for books on the trolley.

theo pushed the trolley to the side and stepped into the empty space. the next time you tried to reach for a stack of books, you touched his chest instead. 

"you're still here, nott" you noted the obvious. 

theo had to admit that he was a tad bit unsettled by your ignorance. he wasn't sure if you really hadn't heard him or if you just ignored the question, because he had made you uncomfortable. 

"you know, normally stalkers don't look so scared" you smiled mischievously. 

"i'm not stalking you, but i can understand if my company made you uncomfortable and i apologize if i have gone too far"

"you're a bit weird, you know that?"

"this is a serious topic, y/n" 

you smiled at the honesty in his voice and sighed. "do you really think if you were making me uncomfortable or i was scared of you i would continue to speak to you?" 

"well, no—"

"i'm not a child, theodore nott, i can voice when i'm annoyed, but i respect your manners" you smiled "and if anyone follows me around like a lost puppy, i'm glad it's someone with at least a little intellect"

"little intellect?" theo repeated offended. 

"you might be smarter than i thought, but you're really bad at this" 

"i know" 

"well, would you now let me sort in the rest of these books? you're kind of in the way"

theo, nodded, the disappointment flashing over his features just like a wave of water. "i guess that's a no" 

you waited until he had stepped aside and pushed the trolley back in it's original position. your hands reached for the row of sherlock holmes books and you held them up at him like a trophy. "that means yes, obviously" 

theo spent exactly three days brainstroming what to do for your date. his friends tried their best at helping him, more than interested to finally hear something about the mysterious girl theo had been infuriated with these past weeks. 

"is she that hideous?" blaise asked on the third day of theo's hard thinking.

"what?" theo raised his brows, he had been too deep in thought to even hear his friend.

"blaise just asked if your girlfriend was hideous, i'd hit him if i were you" mattheo shrugged, stiring the pot. it had been a particular slow morning and he had to admit that it would be quiet entertaining to see blaise and theo fight each other. 

"five galleons on blaise" enzo added, before theo was able to say something. 

"have a little faith in him" pansy said next to theo. "he might not look like it, but the boy has a wicked right hook"

"this is just embarrassing" draco threw the newspaper down in front of him. 

"what?" pansy giggled "the newspaper or that theo and blaise are going to slap each other even more stupid"

"take a guess"

"guys" theo sighed, annoyance already taking over the worry that was bubbling inside him. "i'm not going to fight blaise and y/n is not my girlfriend"

"no yet" enzo wiggled his brows.

"y/n, huh?" mattheo said with a mischievous smile.

"oh god" all colour drained from theo's face. "please tell me the two of you didn't hook up with each other"

"close to it" mattheo shrugged. "she tended to my wounds in the infirmary once and i could tell she had the hots for me"

"wasn't she the one who said you had the charm of a troll and the brains to match?" blaise offered with a smirk.

enzo's mouth almost hit the table infront of him by how fast it flew open. "that was y/n?" he giggled.

theo had to smile. "that does sound like something she'd say"

"she sounds lovely" draco nodded sarcastically "but at least she never saw mattheo naked. that does make her at least a little likable"

"i already love her" pansy quickly said, before draco could continue his judging. "seems like she knows how to handle little annoyances" 

"i'm not a little annoyance"

"yeah" theo nodded "you're a quite big one, actually" 

theo couldn't tell what had led him to the idea for your date, but he had known in that moment what the both of you should do. 

"so hot chocolate was your huge idea?" you smiled as you sat down in the booth across from him, the server already putting down two mugs with steaming hot drinks in front of you. 

"i saw how your friends gave you their hot chocolate packages after dinner and figured this might be something you liked" he shrugged "and before you call me a stalker again, i'm just very attentive to those around me"

you giggled as the grandma at the table next to you send you a worried glance at theo's words.

"he's harmless" you laughed in a way to assure her. 

theo managed an awkward wave and the woman turned away quickly.

"well, it seems those around you are very attentive too" you giggled. 

"i'm sorry" theo tried to hide behind his mug, feeling a tad bit ashamed at the awkward encounter, but having to laugh at the same time. 

"don't be" you smiled honestly "rather tell me something i didn't already find out by snooping around"

"you snooped around?" theo exclaimed surprised. 

"i had to get even, after you found out everything about me" you shrugged "i met this lovely boy, i think he goes by the name enzo, who told me a whole lot about you"

"oh god, no" 

"quite interesting to hear about all those things from someone who has no interest in sleeping with me"

"what? i don't—“

"so you don't intend to sleep with me?" you smiled. "don't be ridiculous, theodore nott"

"i'm just not used to being this straightforward, admittedly"

you completely ignored the surprise swinging in his voice and went on with your story. "enzo did give me some exciting information and i wanted to talk about one thing in particular"

theo was ready to close his eyes and open them back up after you had screamed and left him sitting alone at the table. he had to admit that he wasn't particularly proud of his dating history (or lack of) before he met you and he was sure you weren't happy about that either. 

"before you say something" he interrupted you, before you were able to let the words slip past your lips. "i'm not like that anymore, i was young and not interested in a relationship and just wanted a bit of fun—"

"what are you talking about exactly?" you asked, a susprised smile on your face. 

"that wasn't what you wanted to talk about, was it?" theo asked and you shook your head giggling. 

"i mean, don't let me tell you what to talk about" you managed to say between your laughter. "we can talk about your previous hookups if that's something you'd like to discuss"

"i'd rather not" theo shook his head and his cheeks turned rosy. 

"fine" you smiled "now back to my question: how did you manage to play out that prank on professor binns in our third year?"

theo's features relaxed at the simple question and he smiled, recalling the memory. "so it all started with a ridiculous idea from mattheo and me getting roped into something stupid again"

you spent the rest of the night talking and ordering one hot chocolate after the other. there was not one second of awkward silence, even as theo brought you back to your common room. 

"i had a lot of fun tonight" theo smiled, hands sinking into the pockets of his trousers. 

you had admired how well dressed he was when he had come to get you in the afternoon. 

"me too" you said honestly. "i can't wait for the next one"

"so there will be a next one?" 

"don't be ridiculous, theodore nott" you smiled, before telling the password to the eagle ontop of the door. "of course there will a next one" you slipped into the common room and away from the smiling boy in front of it. 

"are they weirder than you?" 

the voice startled theo, as he was standing in front of the shelf in the library. he turned around, not surprised that it was you who had asked that question. you mostly started your conversations in the middle, without so much as a hello or some kind of warning. 

"what?" theo wasn't sure what else to ask.

"you friends of course" you shrugged, like that had been obvious "we've been together for a month and i've never even met them" 

"well, you have met them" theo corrected. "like in the hallways or during dinner" 

"you know what i mean, theodore" you rolled your eyes. "i don't think a grunting sound could be classified as me meeting someone"

"that's just blaise, honestly" theo muttered "but pansy waved to you during dinner more than three times now"

"theo" you pushed "either something is completely wrong with them or me and i'd like to know what it is, now" you sighed, before you added "just say if you're ashamed of me or something, i know i can be a bit rude to people i don't know"

"tesoro" theo sighed "i'm sorry that i let you think that. they're just annoying, that's all"

"and you thought they would scare me away?" you smiled, touching his cheeks with your hands. "you stalked me for weeks and i'm still dating you, aren't i?"

"that's never gonna be funny" he called after you, as you walked out of the library. "fine, breakfast at the slytherin table for you tomorrow" 

"aye, aye" 

"she's not hideous" was the first thing you heard when you sat down at the table the next morning. 

"well, you aren't either, zabini" you smiled, not even fazed by his assumption. "even though theo warned me about you" 

"burn!" enzo called, exchanging a high five with pansy. 

"i'm so glad we finally get to meet" pansy smiled. "i've just been waiting to have another girl around, it sometimes gets to much with all the testosterone"

"i don't know how you manage, honestly" you smiled.

to say theo's friends and you hit it off immediately would be an understatement. it took approximately ten minutes for you to become part of the group. enzo and you had been friends before, unlikely study partners, after you had helped him on a potions assignment once. pansy was ready to keep you by her side for the rest of the year and even blaise took a quick liking to you.

mattheo and draco were harder to break. mattheo, still having a pretty hurt ego about you turning him down the year before, was sure that you were just dating theo to get back at him for whatever reason and draco was just not interested to have any relationship past a simple hello and goodbye. 

you didn't mind their antics, even if theo repeatedly apologized for it. 

yours and theo’s relationship lasted for exactly two years. theo broke up with you one day after your anniversary.

the break up was painful, the fight that followed even more and still, you held him that evening, both of you understanding the severity of your situation and the war that was waiting to happen.

“theo” you cried, rushing through the ruins of the courtyard just months later. 

you had been on different sides after all. you had followed harry potter into the war and theo had been bound to his father and to the promise the man had given to the dark lord. just like draco, mattheo, pansy, blaise and enzo. 

your friends had gotten lost in the fight and despite not being supposed to, you were desperately screaming for them. 

you ran back into the castle, not having found theo outside. you send curses at the death eaters that tried approaching you, having more luck than an actual plan. you were simply determined to find him. 

you were thrown down to the ground as the doors of the room of requirement suddenly appeared and flew open. just as quickly as they had opened, they closed again, spitting out people in the procress, before the fire was tamed behind the doors. 

harry potter, hermione granger and ron weasley were standing up from the ground slowly, black powder darkening their cheeks and clothes. 

it took a moment for you to realize who the other two people were, as you quickly got up from the ground. 

draco was breathing just as heavily as blaise was, both trying to fill their lungs with air. 

“oh god” you mumbled, before you finally started moving, your legs guiding you into the direction of your friends, falling into their arms and pressing them close to you. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry” you cried. 

blaise and draco held onto you just as tight, not being able to let you go as they cried into your hair.

“be honest, draco” you said when you broke the hug, completely ignoring the trio next to you. 

“theo” draco muttered, knowing what you were talking about immediately. blaise and him exchanged a look. 

“is he dead?” you asked, heartbreak already burning in your limbs and throat. you were ready to mourn, ready to lose your life just like him. he had died for the wrong cause, but you hoped, heart heavy in your chest, that death was more forgiving than his life had been. 

“we don’t know” blaise finally said. “we got seperated in the halls, theo—he was looking for you i think”

“i have to find him” you muttered, touching each hand of the boys in front of you. “stay safe” you kissed both of their cheeks, before you turned on your heel, running down the corridor opposite of where you had come from. 

“theo!” you called once more, running up the stairs and through various hallways, hopeless to ever receive an answer.

“y/n” a voice called and you almost crumbled from the surprise it reached you with. hope was hard to keep and you had thought, really thought, that he was dead. 

theo wasn’t dead, but close to it. he was laying on the ground, his back against the wall, while the rest of his body was bathing in his own blood. his cheeks were empty of any colour, lips dry and almost blue as he looked up at you with tired eyes. 

“oh god” you muttered in shock, slipping onto the ground beside him, your uniform soaking up the blood like it was water in the lake. your hands touched his chest and the big glass shard that was stuck inside of it. theo hissed in pain. “sorry, sorry” you whispered. 

“they surprised me as i came down the corridor” he explained. “i was looking for you”

“you found me now” you whispered once more. 

“i don’t think they meant to do this” sweat dripped from his forehead. “they were kids, not older than fourteen, but they left and they took my wand”

“oh god” you repeated as you shook your head, holding his face in your blood soaked hands and kissing his lips softly.

“i thought you were dead” tears slipped over his cheeks and you shook your head crying. 

“i’m gonna help you” you said quickly, before reaching for your wand and using it’s magic to extract the glass from theo’s body. he was winding on the ground, the pain probably unbearable. but you had to do this in order to help him. he would heal, he would survive and that was all that mattered to you in this moment. 

“i don’t want to fight” theo cried “not for them, not against you” 

“i know, my love, i know”

the healing had begun, slowly but surely his wound closed up, only leaving behind the blood around you and the worry on your face.

“come on” you said, as soon as he looked less pale. you took his hand and he followed you through the corridors of the castle, standing next to you when you had to fight death eaters, even beginning to send curses himself. 

“you don’t have to fight, theo” you called over the loudness of the fight. “confringo! i don’t want you to fight against him” 

“i’m not leaving you” theo called back, his voice nearly drowned out by the deatheater across from him, who was screaming curses and uttering threats about theo’s betrayal at the same time. “he doesn’t mean anything to me”

“what?” you send the deatheater flying against the wall, effectively knocking him out. your wand was now facing theo's death eater too.

“i don’t care for my father” theo said, before he too send the man flying. “i only care for you and your well being”

you made sure it was safe, before you pulled him in and kissed him so passionately that you almost forgot you had ever been apart. “don’t ever let me go again, theodore nott” 

“i wouldn’t dare, y/n l/n” 

you took his hand, walking back into the entrance hall, looking if you were needed anywhere. that’s when you saw them coming over the bridge. 

“he’s here” you said, pushing theo behind you if there was really anything you could do to save him. “he’s—“ you paused, as the both of you walked closer up behind the rows of people already standing in the courtyard.

“harry…?” your voice was quiet, as you adressed the boy you had put all your hope in. someone you hadn’t known well, not well enough to be on first name basis, but what did it matter now that he was. what was he?

“harry potter is dead!” voldemort announced loudly, while the deatheaters broke into laughter. 

ginny weasley dashed forward with a heartbreaking scream. “no! no!”

“stupid girl! harry potter is dead, from this day forth you put your faith in me” you looked down onto the ground in front of you and then back at theo, who looked like he was being painfully tortured by voldemorts words. he too had set his hope into harry.

“it’s done” you said softly. “the war is over”

“we lost”

“harry potter is dead!” voldemort repeated once more “and now is the time to declare youself. come forward and join us.. or die”

your ears were drenched out by the wailing sound in your head. it was loud that you missed everything neville said. you pressed your eyes close, wishing to be anywhere else. to be free from this destiny, but you knew you could never just leave. you wouldn’t be able to leave all these people behind. 

it was theo‘s voice that woke you from your half sleeping state. the word he muttered was foreign on his tongue, but ignited a flame inside of you immediately. 

“harry”

your eyes snapped open like a gun shot had rung through the air. but it wasn’t the sound of a gun. it was harry potter, who was running and firing spells at voldemort. you just had seconds to react, before the fight broke out again, no end in sight. 

you had never thought to be happy that a war continued.

but continuation meant that you hadn’t lost yet. there was a chance to win as long as harry potter was alive. 

when voldemort finally dies, it’s nothing like you ever imagined. he bursts into the air, pieces by pieces disappearing until only his wand is left. 

the deatheater in front of you let’s his wand fall to the ground and you don’t have any interest to finish the job as you sank into theo‘s arms. content is flashing through your body and immediate tiredness is dragging you down. theo holds you as all your weight crashes against him. 

you‘re tired of fighting and of war and death and fear. there is nothing in your head, apart from the thought that you will never have to endure all of that again.

theo and you went away after the war.

you travelled europe for a year, before you came back to hogwarts to finish the school year you were still missing. 

theo got a job at the ministry, you started working at hogwarts. he proposed to you the day that you signed the contract. 

your wedding was beautiful. pansy and luna were your bridesmaids. draco and mattheo were theo‘s groomsmen. all of your friends were there. you had even invited the golden trio, it was only thanks to them that the both of you were still alive and able to celebrate your connection.

“you lost your bow again, robin!” theo picked up the little pink bow and clipped it to his suit, knowing that your daughter was way too busy to even hear him call for her. 

“maybe you should just give up” you suggested, picking up luke who was softly hitting your leg, seemingly tired of walking. 

“but she looks so cute with it!” theo protested, the disappointment sipping from his voice as he pushed the trolley through the wall. 

“it‘s no use if she always loses them” you shrugged. “what is it? like the tenth one you’ve gotten her in the past month alone? just wait until she’s older, love”

theo sighed, but nodded at your suggestion. 

“grace, robin” you called, looking around the people in front of you to spot your girls. 

“well, lucky you’ve got me” mattheo popped up next to you, robin in his arms, as he threw a wink in your direction. 

“why are you even here, mate?” theo asked annoyed “you didn’t have any children the last time i checked”

“well, theres still a few women we’re not a hundred percent sure about yet” pansy joked as she appeared in front of you. “hey sweetheart” she kissed your cheek, before she took luke out of your arms. 

“haha” mattheo rolled his eyes. “i was just accompanying my nieces and nephew’s like a good godfather and uncle should do”

“nope” theo shook his head. “you’re still not grace’s godfather, one daughter of mine has to be enough, riddle” 

“yeah, yeah” mattheo shook his head, clearly not caring about anything theo said “we’ll get there eventually”

“no, we won’t, that’s the point—“ 

“hello nott” blaise greeted, draco following, scorpius and grace behind him. you sighed in relief, glad you daughter had not gotten lost.

“blaise” theo nodded, while you went around the trolley, hugging both men. 

“amazing style choice” blaise pointed against his chest and theo's eyes fell down on his own chest, having completely forgotten about the bow he had pinned there. “looks great on you, mate”

“it’s robin’s”

“sure, keep telling yourself that” blaise said with a sarcastic smile “i heard denial is a river in egypt, y/n”

you giggled, but promptly stopped when theo elbowed you. “you’re my wife. mine” he muttered between clenched teeth, but clearly joking. 

draco took a look on his watch. “there are places we have to be, aren’t there?” he set a hand on both scorpius’ and grace’s shoulder, who were talking to each other excitedly.

“of course” you nodded, following your friends to the platform and hugging your daughter so close, as if that might make her leaving a little less hard. “stay with scorpius, sweetheart. stick together, the both of you” you advised. 

“i think isaac was trying to safe a department for the three of you” blaise told you daughter, who smiled gratefully. 

“yes, mum” grace nodded, before you swapped places with theo, who was already crying. 

“write to me every week, honey!” he declared. “stay far away from professor trewlaney and close to your mother as soon as she’s back at work”

“theo” you shook your head “she should have space to develop” you watched grace and scorpius board the train, waving as it slowly left the station.

“i’ve seen people develop at hogwarts!” he shook his head “it lead to a pregnancy in your case, tesoro”

blaise and draco choked on their spit simultaneously.

“that was after i became a teacher and you know it, dear husband”

mattheo held robin away from him, to take her in fully. “were you made there too?” he muttered, more to himself than anyone in particular.

“mattheo!” draco, pansy and you scolded loudly. 

“hey guys!” enzo appeared behind you suddenly, startling all of you. “oh no, they’re already off, aren’t they?” 

you nodded sadly, feeling sorry for the poor bloke who couldn’t arrive on time if his life depended on it.

“half an hour too late” draco exclaimed with a look at his watch. “as always”

“well you know the traffic is being a bitch” enzo slapped a hand to his mouth, before he took a quick look at evie next to him. “sorry, love. well everything’s been a b-word since jacky started forcing me to use muggle transportation.”

“i do not envy you one bit” mattheo shrugged.

“well, evie” enzo shrugged “the train is gone, but i hear that the weasleys have this super cool car, that—“

“no!” you shook your head, taking the little girls hand in yours. “i’ll take her!” 

“so get-together at yours or what, nott?” mattheo asked “gonna have to know which of your kids were conceived in hogwarts” 

“mattheo!” all of you scolded at the same time.

[tylerjeauxburreaux9]

𝖴𝖭𝖤𝖷𝖯𝖤𝖢𝖳𝖤𝖣 // blurb

𝙹𝚘𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚡 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝙹𝚘𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚡 𝚛𝚎ader

Summary: When you are force to go to every game with your sister, it turns out to be something you didn’t expect to happen.. imagine your going to a game right and you see the quarterback and he’s hot not like you imagine him to be at least you knew he was hot but you didn't think he would extremely hot. But here’s the twist you get home, and you see that he started following out of nowhere and the next you know you’re texting each other.

A/n: @bengals-barnesbabe for the message

Warning:fluffy 

Word count:

This one particular game so happened. out of all the games, I have been to. I have never thought to look at all the players while they were coming out of the tunnel until today I did.

I could possibly say I wasn’t expecting this to happen, but we just happened to fall in love. It’s like love at first sight.

“Do I have to go to this stupid game?” I say annoyed looking at my sister Sara, she always loved football, every time football came around she would make me wear this stupid Bengals jersey and go to their silly little game because she was their biggest fan.

On the other hand side me, I was very much not the biggest fan, don’t get me wrong I love football but I wouldn’t say I liked going out to one because it was too crowded and loud for me. But I didn’t mind going because I was going with my sister

“Yes, you know this y/n, you always have to go, please stop being a baby and just come on. Before we are late” looking at me with her arms folded, sighing

She wore her big orange jersey with the number 1 in the back and front with the word CHASE printed on the back. With camouflage cargo pants, black and white Jordan ones.

While I had on this black baggy t-shirt with Aaliyah‘s face on it. With her name written in graffiti letters, ripped jeans, and black and white dunks.

“Okay, “I say “ “Oh my god, just come on, before we are late,” Sara says, rolling her eyes, then pulling me by my arms, pushing me into the car.

20 minutes later

We were at the game sitting in our chair while they called their each time a football player ”your quarterback for the Cincinnati Bengals. Joe burrow “The announcers announced. He was running slowly, I admired him from afar, watching as he came out of the tunnel

I didn’t think he was this hot, I mean I knew he was hot. But I think he was this hot the whole time during the game I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. He was too damn hot.

“Sara, that Joe Burrow, “ I say “Yes, “ Sara says “Well I knew he was hot but didn't think he was that hot, “ I say “Well you’ve seen it for yourself, “ Sara says. I continued to look at him the whole time of the game.

The game was over. The Cincinnati Bengals had won the game. We were on our way home.

When we got home, I went into my room, took my shoes off, got in my bed, picked up my phone, opened up Instagram, and started to scroll through the reels. Until I saw the big bold letter with the blue check marked saying ‘joeyb_9 started following you’ To my surprise, I couldn’t help but scream. He just randomly followed me like that. Shocked and confused.

“Ahhhhh Joe Burrow just followed me “ I screamed my hands over my mouth, I was still shocked and confused“Y/n what’s wrong, “ Sara said “Um, nothing Sara, “ I said looking at my phone still In shock.

I wanted to see if it was real, so I pressed the message button, nervous to dm him I began to type out ‘ um hi’, but my hand slipped hitting the send I started to think to myself. ‘I can’t believe I sent that, what if he doesn’t see it.

Until I looked at my phone and saw the three little dots that showed he was typing. The text read ‘Hi’ I began to text him back, and then a conversation between the two of us started. There were giggles, teasing, kicking, smile, and flirting in between each text

After that I couldn’t fall asleep I was stuck on the thought that I just talked to the hottest popular quarterback ever and he asked me out. The only thing I could do was smile and hug my pillow. I can’t even think straight. “Wow, that was something”I say, as I constantly think about him, ask me out .still speechless.

Another note: I wasn't planning on writing this it just kinda happened, lol. But the passengers' side will be out l

[gamergirl-niffler]

What if... there is more to Dabi?

Sometimes I sit and think about stuff because of that I often have weird ideas, theories, headcanons, etc.

For the last few days, I was thinking about Touya and Dabi. How he was super fixated on revenge, EVEN if there were less aggressive ways to solve all of this...

And came to the conclusion:

"What if Touya suffers from DID and Dabi isn't just a way to hide his true identity, but a personality that developed to protect him and seek justice for his harm?"

It's probably super wrong approach but hear me out!

(From what I read on Wikipedia)

Early childhood trauma, places someone at risk of developing DID.

Traumas like: childhood abuse, violence, neglect, or severe bullying, dysfunctional family dynamics were reported in people suffering from DID

We all know "hellish" Todoroki family and the way stuff went there.

Touya was a child "created" for greatness by Enji.

From the very being, Enji put into Touya's head that "HE will be the one to suppress All Might himself" and since he was just a child he believed in this.

He believed his father, he wanted to learn, he wanted to achieve this goal, make his father proud, proof he is worth his love and attention because his other siblings were no threat.

Then Shoto was born, and BAM, everything burst like a bubble.

THAT'S WHEN DABI'S DEVELOPMENT COULD START.

Once loved boy with SO many expectations put into him was thrown aside like a rag doll for the sake of little brother.

Neglectful and selfish actions of his own father, mixed with Touya's obsession on being THE CHILD his father once said he was, led him to that cursed mountain and when Enji didn't show up...

That's when Dabi came out.

When we see him wake up after 3 years - it's not Touya, but Dabi.

Dabi - The personality developed to protect Touya, to prove that Touya can be the very thing Enji told he will be, a personality made to PAY BACK for all the harm that child had to go through because of bastard father.

He is like an older brother stepping in front of the younger sibling to take all the harm on himself.

It's not TOUYA doing all those bad things while chasing Enji and going against Shoto - It just Dabi.

Dabi who wants desperately show what Touya is capable of while Touya is just tucked away from all the harm, just waiting to be again acknowledged but not out of pity or because his father feels bad for his own actions but because of what he can be.

Of course, Dabi is so fixated on achieving this goal that he takes EXTREME measures - but it's all for Touya's happiness that he deserved ever since he was born.

This may make no sens, but this was a train of thoughts that went through my head very recently. The post is probably messy because I am not the best at making such things and putting them 'on paper"

Feel free to comment and tell me what you think about this, BUT please don't be mine or anything. I didn't mean to insult anyone with my limited knowledge.

I am curious of your thoughts

[starsenha]

UNDERSTANDING / P.J

Pairing ◊ fem!reader x bf!jay

Genre ◊ fluff, established relationship

Warnings ◊ talk about bad mental health, just jay being a sweetheart I'm sobbing

Word count ◊ 1k

Summary ◊ you were so greateful to have a such understanding boyfriend by your side.

a/n: felt really mentally bad a few days ago so this bloomed in my mind hehe, enjoy!

You had been looking forward to your date with Jay all week. The plan was simple: a walk around the park, grabbing some ice cream, and maybe catching a movie later. But when the morning came, you woke up feeling… off. It wasn’t like you hadn’t felt this way before—this heavy, gray feeling that made everything seem distant—but it was the last thing you wanted on a day like today.

You stared at your phone, fingers hovering over the screen. It felt wrong to cancel, especially since you and Jay had been planning this. But at the same time, the thought of putting on a happy face, of pretending you were okay when you weren’t, felt exhausting. Jay knew about your struggles with mental health; you had talked about it before. But still, there was always that small voice in your head whispering that you were being a burden.

With a deep breath, you finally typed out the message.

[you] Hey, would it be okay if we postponed the date today?

You hit send before you could overthink it, your heart racing as you waited for his response. Within a minute, your phone buzzed.

[Songie 💙] Of course, baby! Are you okay?

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers tracing the edge of your phone as you tried to find the right words. You didn’t want to lie, but you also didn’t want to dump all your emotions on him. Finally, you decided to just be honest.

[you] I’m not really feeling like myself today. Kind of out of it, and I don’t want to bring any negativity to our date. I don’t want to bother you.

The response came quickly, like he was waiting for your message.

[Songie 💙] Hey, you are NEVER a bother. I mean that. I’d be happy to spend time with you, even if you’re not feeling okay.

A lump formed in your throat, and you blinked back the sudden sting of tears. You knew Jay cared, but sometimes it still caught you off guard how understanding he was.

Before you could reply, another message came through.

[Songie 💙] Actually… can I come over? I really want to see you, even if we don’t do anything. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I just want to be there with you.

You smiled softly at his words, though you were still unsure. The idea of just… being with someone without having to pretend to be fine sounded comforting, but you didn’t want him to feel like he had to take care of you.

[you] Are you sure? I’m really not in the mood to talk much. I was just going to stay in and watch my comfort show.

You didn’t have to explain what your comfort show was. Jay knew. It was the one you always turned to when you were feeling down, something familiar and soothing.

[Songie 💙] Of course I’m sure. I’ll be happy just to see your pretty little face.

A small laugh escaped your lips despite yourself. Jay always knew how to make you feel a little lighter, even when everything else felt heavy.

[Songie 💙] I’ll come over in a bit. Want me to pick up something for you? I can grab your favorite from that fast food place you love. I know you probably haven’t eaten.

That hit deeper than you expected. He knew. He always seemed to know when you were struggling, even when you hadn’t said much. The thought of food hadn’t even crossed your mind until he mentioned it, and now that he did, you realized how hungry you were. But more than that, it was the fact that he was offering to take care of you in such a simple, thoughtful way that made your chest tighten with emotion.

[you] Okay. That sounds nice. Thanks, songie.

Jay: Don’t mention it. I’ll be there soon.

You put your phone down and leaned back against the couch, feeling a little less tense now that you didn’t have to worry about the date. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to spend time with Jay—it was the opposite. You just didn’t want to be a weight on him, to drag down what was supposed to be a fun day. But Jay… he never made you feel like that. Not once.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at your door. You opened it to find Jay standing there with a warm smile and a bag of food in one hand. His hair was a little messy from the wind, and he was wearing that hoodie you always said you liked on him.

"Hey, baby," he said softly, stepping inside. "I brought you your favorite."

The smell of fries and a burger filled the room, and your stomach growled. You hadn’t realized just how much you needed this. You smiled gratefully and took the bag from him.

"Thank you," you mumbled, feeling a little shy all of a sudden.

"Of course," he said, leaning down to give you a soft kiss on your forehead. "I’m just happy to see you."

You led him to the couch, where you had already set up your comfort show on the TV. Jay kicked off his shoes and settled in next to you, close enough that your legs brushed against each other, but not so close that it felt overwhelming. He handed you the food, and as you unwrapped your burger, he pressed play on the show.

For a while, you sat in comfortable silence, the sounds of the familiar show filling the room. Jay didn’t push you to talk, didn’t ask you how you were feeling. He just… sat with you, sharing the space in that gentle, understanding way that only he could.

After a while, you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer, and you felt the tension in your body start to melt away, just a little. It wasn’t that everything was suddenly okay—it wasn’t. But having Jay there, quietly watching your favorite show with you, made things feel a little more bearable.

"You know," he said quietly after a while, his voice barely above a whisper, "I’m always here for you. Even on the hard days. Especially on the hard days."

You didn’t say anything, but you reached for his hand and squeezed it, your heart full of gratitude.

He squeezed back, and that was enough. You didn’t need words right now. You had Jay, and that was more than enough.

[chicgeekgirl89]

Rating: K Summary: T.K. is eager to return to the firehouse for his first shift post-icy pond coma. He's feeling great, excited, and ready for anything. What he doesn't expect is a surprise visit from a lonely Carlos in the middle of the night. A/N: This one has been sitting for a while and I figured I should probably release it before we FINALLY get some new material to work with this week!!

Read on AO3

“Did you pack extra socks?”

“Yes.”

“Your vitamins? Your hoodie?”

“Yes, Carlos.”

“I put an extra blanket for you in a bag by the door, make sure you grab it on your way out.”

“Okay, this is starting to feel more like my first day of Kindergarten than my first day back at work,” T.K. chuckles. 

Carlos shifts uncomfortably and huffs. “I just want to make sure you have everything you need.”

T.K. puts a hand on his chest, steadying him. “I’m going to the firehouse. Not the moon. If I need something you can bring it to me. It’s twelve hours Carlos. One overnight shift. I’ll be okay.”

“I still think maybe you should have waited until there was a day shift available,” Carlos insists. “You need your sleep.”

“Babe, I want to go back. I need to go back. If I sit around here for much longer I’m going to go crazy,” T.K. says gently. “The doctors cleared me, my dad cleared me, Tommy cleared me. I’m good to go.”

“Nobody asked me if I cleared you,” Carlos grumbles low, almost as if he doesn’t mean for T.K. to hear it. 

T.K.’s mouth twists into a half smile that he tries to suppress. Carlos has been extremely attentive and serious about T.K.’s recovery care since coming home from the hospital. There have been schedules and spreadsheets and alarm reminders about medications and appointments. T.K. has been plied with so much of Andrea’s soup that it feels like his eyeballs could float.

He still tires a little quicker than normal, especially toward the end of the day, and he hasn’t quite shaken off the permanent chill that ate its way into his bones in that frozen pond, but he feels almost back to one hundred percent. And he’s definitely well enough to get through one shift. 

“I will be okay,” T.K. promises him. “If anything feels off I’ll tell Tommy and come right home.”

Carlos eyes him, still not convinced. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

His phone buzzes and he checks it. “Nancy’s here. I’ll see you in a few hours. You’ll barely even know I’m gone.”

“Be safe,” Carlos says. 

It was their standard standard farewell before. Before the fire and the breakup and the ice.

“I will,” T.K. responds. The words have an odd weight in his chest. The last time he went to work they were broken up. He couldn’t promise Carlos that he would be safe, and he wasn’t. He fell through a frozen pond and died and woke up to a second chance with the love of his life.

It feels good to be able to make that promise again.

“Love you,” he says, pecking Carlos on the lips as he shoulders his work bag.

“Love you too,” Carlos says. “Ah! Blanket!” he calls as T.K. reaches for the doorknob.

T.K. accepts the bag from him. “Thanks Mom.”

Carlos rolls his eyes, but there’s a fond, slightly embarrassed smile on his lips. “Shut up.”

T.K. takes the elevator down to the ground floor and exits out the front doors to where Nancy is parked and waiting. “Aw yeah!!” she yells out the car window. “Get in loser! We’re going to work!”

T.K. throws his bag giddily into the back seat and buckles his seatbelt. “Freedoooom!!” he crows happily as she puts it into gear.

“Oh, yeah, like it’s been so hard for you recovering with Carlos catering to your every whim,” Nancy teases. 

She’s not wrong; he has no complaints. Carlos has been with him as much as possible for the last few weeks, rebuilding the fractured splinters of their relationship into something that finally feels solid again. T.K.’s heart is nearly as recovered as his body. There have been painful moments, lots of tears, anger, and some difficult confessions, but already T.K. feels stronger for it. The break up was awful, and part of him still hates himself for his role in it, but it almost feels worth it to be where they are now. 

“So catch me up on the gossip,” T.K. says as they drive. “What’s the firehouse tea?”

“Mm! Yes! God, I missed you,” Nancy says fervently. “Okay. Someone froze Paul’s boxers last week and he’s still so mad about it. He thinks it was Mateo.”

“And was it?”

“Nope.” She pops the ‘p’ and smiles wickedly. “It was me and Marj.”

“Nice.” T.K. sinks into the seat, already feeling like he’s settling back into normal. “What else?”

“Torbin’s girlfriend left him. Again,” she says. “And your dad found the decoy candy stash, but the real one is still safe.”

“Third cabinet from the left behind the spare hoses?”

“You know it.”

“Are there Sour Patch Kids?”

She takes her eyes off the road for a second to smile at him. “I restocked them for you as a welcome back gift.”

“Aw, thanks Nance,” he says, heart warming at her kindness. 

The entire 126 has stepped in a major way over the last few weeks. The fridge in the loft hasn’t been empty of food once, everyone has stopped by to check on him, and the group text thread has been full of encouraging and silly texts. It had hurt to watch them all get back to work once the station opened; he’d been able to attend the ceremony but hadn’t been cleared for duty yet. But tonight they will finally be all together again.

When they arrive the house is quiet. There’s no flurry of activity in the bays; everything is oddly silent and dark. 

“What’s going on?” T.K. asks as they get out of Nancy’s car, nerves fluttering. Have they been shut down again for some reason? They literally just reopened a couple weeks ago, if they’ve been taken out of service already….

The lights flick on and there’s a cacophonous shout of “SURPRISE!” as the whole team pops out from behind the engine and the ambulance. There’s a giant banner with “Welcome Back T.K.” on the front of the rig, along with balloons and streamers, and Paul is holding a massive cake.

The grin that splits T.K.’s face is so wide it hurts and he feels tears prick at the corner of his eyes. It’s Marjan who comes to him first, holding out her arms as she runs over for a hug. “Welcome back,” she says warmly and he squeezes her tightly before letting go to catch the next person in line.

Judd claps a hand onto his shoulder. “Good to have you home brother.”

“Thanks,” T.K. says. “And please tell Grace thank you again for all the meals. It’s made our lives so much easier these last couple weeks.”

Even with a newborn in the house, somehow Grace had managed to send over meals to make sure Carlos and T.K. didn’t starve during his convalescence. 

“Yeah between you and Paul she’s been basically running a catering company out of our kitchen,” Judd says. “Gotta make sure everybody’s taken care of. But you’re cut off now,” he announces loudly. “Time for y’all to do your own cookin’ again.”

“Bro, I can’t believe you didn’t even lose any toes or anything,” Mateo says when it’s his turn. His hug is accompanied by a back slap that chokes the breath out of T.K. for a second. “I mean it’s good, but like, that would have been pretty gnarly.”

“Yeah, I’m glad I kept all my appendages,” T.K. says. “I find them pretty essential.”

“Still, would have been a cool story,” Mateo says a little wistfully.

“Mateo his story is already plenty cool,” Paul says. “In fact, it’s so cool, it’s almost frozen solid. And that is why we got you this cake.”

He holds it up for T.K.’s inspection and T.K. bursts into laughter. It’s got Frozen characters all over it and reads “The Cold Never Bothered T.K. Anyway.” 

“It’s an ice cream cake,” Paul says proudly, like this is the greatest collective idea they’ve ever had.

“I love it,” T.K. says. “It’s perfect.”

“Okay, okay, let the adults have a turn,” Tommy says, breaking through the crowd and pulling T.K. into a warm, soft hug. “Welcome back T.K. It’s so good to see you well.”

T.K. hugs her back, a little extra tight. He’s very aware that he’s not the only one who lived through several days of trauma because of that pond. This woman’s hands saved his life, kept his heart beating long enough for help to arrive. Even when the question of whether he’d live had been answered, there was still uncertainty about how functional he would be. That he’s back at work like nothing ever happened is astonishing. It’s a triumph for both of them.

“Cap I don’t—“ The words stick in his throat because how do you thank someone for doing what she did?

She pulls back and squeezes his shoulders. “I know baby,” she says softly, eyes looking a little moist. “It’s okay. You’re here. That’s all that matters.”

Tommy looks past him and T.K. turns to find his dad. “C’mere kiddo,” he says warmly and T.K. ducks his head, slightly embarrassed by this display of fatherly affection in front of his team. “Love you,” his dad murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to his hair before patting him sharply on the back. “All right team! Let’s celebrate the 126 being finally, officially back together!”

T.K. takes a photo with the cake to send to Carlos before they cut into it. Paul makes sure T.K. gets the piece with Elsa’s face on it and they all talk and joke and laugh like no time has passed at all.

When the bells go off he feels a thrill go down his spine, excitement tinged with a little bit of nerves. “You ready?” Nancy asks as they climb into the rig.

“You know it,” he says with a grin. “Cap?”

Tommy buckles in. “Let’s roll.”

“Yeah!!! TNT is back in action!” Nancy honks the horn as they roll out of the garage and peal off toward an elderly slip and fall.

It’s a relatively easy call, a good, low stress reintroduction to the job. They drop the woman off at the hospital with a possible concussion and sprained ankle and are on their way back to the station when another call comes in for a fire in a single family home.

They meet up with the rest of the crew at the address, where they find a relatively small, but smoky kitchen fire. They’re not needed beyond basic first aid and are sent to a call for a choking at a restaurant next. 

T.K. is practically buzzing with energy by the time they finally get back to the station an hour later. Some of it is probably sugar from the large piece of cake he downed before they started, but he’s also flying high on the joy of saving people. He’d known he missed the job, but he hadn’t realized quite how much until he’d snapped on his gloves and started taking vitals again. 

He bounces out of the ambulance into the bay, already knowing that he’s not going to sleep at all tonight. Maybe he can persuade Mateo to pull a Mario Kart all nighter with him.

It’s past ten but the rest of the crew is still up, most of them in the showers still trying to get the stench of the kitchen fire off. T.K. is on his way to grab a second piece of cake when he hears Judd call his name from the doorway to the locker room.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Found something that belongs to you,” Judd says, an odd smirk on his face.

“Something that belongs to me?” T.K. wrinkles his nose. He’s barely been back five hours, what could he possibly be missing already? 

As realization dawns he rolls his eyes. “Is this a welcome back prank? What’d you do? Put my keys in jello? Hide a fish in my locker?”

“Nope,” Judd says. “You’d better go check your bunk though. It’s waitin’ for ya.”

His bunk? What the hell? Giving Judd a final suspicious look he heads for the bunk room.  

He enters with caution, aware that this is likely a trap. When his eyes adjust to the darkened lighting he finds Judd was right; there is a familiar lump that most definitely belongs to him curled up in the middle of his bed. T.K.’s heart stutters and he crosses the room in only a few strides, sinking down onto the edge of the mattress.

His hand automatically goes to Carlos’ forehead, fear that his boyfriend has somehow become ill or injured in the hours since he left home at the forefront of his mind. “Babe,” he says worriedly, brushing his fingers across Carlos’ face and down his neck.

Carlos’ eyelids flutter and he blinks up soft, brown, confused eyes at T.K. before quickly pushing up to a sitting position. “Hey,” he says, a little breathless as he tries to recover from his late night nap. 

“Baby, are you okay?” T.K. asks, his fingers still worriedly searching for signs of fever or injury.

“Yeah, yes, I’m fine,” Carlos says, clearing his throat and scooting back so there’s some space between them. 

Relief extinguishes the spike of adrenaline in T.K.’s veins and he relaxes a little as curiosity takes over. “What are you doing here then? Did something happen at home?”

Carlos’ face takes on a slightly evasive look. “No, everything’s fine at the loft.” 

“Then why are you asleep in my bunk?”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I was just waiting for you.” The words are quick, almost defensive.

“Waiting for me?” T.K. frowns. “Did you come all the way over here just to make sure I haven’t passed out or something? Seriously Carlos, we talked about this. I promised I would be careful.”

“No, that’s not—I wasn’t—“ Carlos huffs in frustration and T.K. tries to read the look on his face without success.

“Baby, what is it?”

Carlos looks down at his hands and mumbles something that T.K. doesn’t catch. “What?” he asks, confusion and concern clouding his happy back-to-work buzz.

Carlos sighs and meets his gaze, embarrassment all over his face. “I said, I missed you.”

T.K. softens at these words. “You came all the way over here because you missed me?”

“It’s stupid,” Carlos says, his discomfort at this vulnerable admission written into every line of his body.

“No,” T.K. says, scooching a little closer to him. “No, baby, no. It’s not stupid.”

“It is stupid,” Carlos says. “I’m a grown man. I should be able to spend one night without my boyfriend.”

“It’s okay,” T.K. says with a chuckle. “We’ve spent a lot of time together lately. It’s cute that you got lonely without me.”

“This was dumb, I’m gonna go.” Carlos starts to get up, but T.K. catches his hand. 

“No, stay for a little bit.”

Carlos sinks back down reluctantly. “Isn’t everyone coming up soon? It’s late.”

“They’re still cleaning up downstairs. And Judd knows we’re up here. He’ll probably make them give us a few minutes.”

He grabs Carlos’ arm and pulls it around his waist, scooting backward toward the center of the small mattress and pushing against Carlos’ body.

“What are you doing?” Carlos asks in confusion.

“Come on, snuggle me. You drove all the way over here, might as well get some cuddles to remember me by in our bed tonight.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, come on.” T.K. wiggles his butt invitingly until Carlos slides down and spoons him the way he wants. “See? Better already, right?”

Carlos huffs a laugh against the back of T.K.’s neck. It’s a tight fit, both of them on this twin size firehouse mattress, but they squirm around and manage to find a position that’s comfortable enough.  

T.K. waits, feeling Carlos relax against him as the minutes pass uninterrupted. His own eyes feel a little heavy; it would be so easy to fall asleep like this. Sleeping on the couch at his dad’s for months had been devastatingly lonely. At the time he’d tried to pretend it wasn’t; that he was glad there was no room for Carlos when he laid his head down at night. 

But in the months since, he’s recognized how horribly isolating it was. He’d taken a lot of extra shifts because it was easier to sleep in beds that Carlos had never touched. 

These memories stir a thought. “You haven’t been alone at the loft since I came home from the hospital,” T.K. says softly.

He feels Carlos stiffen a little behind him. “Yeah, I guess that’s right.”

“It must have been hard before, all those nights when I wasn’t there,” T.K. says, focusing on every tiny movement and breath happening behind him. In all their many conversations the last few weeks, they’ve mostly talked about what broke them up in the first place and how to keep it from happening again. Carlos has avoided saying much about the actual time they spent apart. T.K. is pushing at a tender spot, one that Carlos has been loathe to talk about in lieu of “moving on” instead. But his boyfriend is here seeking comfort for a reason and T.K. can’t let him go home without uncovering what it is. 

When Carlos doesn’t speak T.K. pushes a little harder. “I had my dad and Mateo, but you were there all by yourself.”

“We don’t have to talk about this.”

There’s tension in Carlos’ voice and T.K. awkwardly rolls over until they’re facing each other, refusing to back down. “Did you talk to anyone? All those months apart? Have you told anyone how that felt?”

The lines of Carlos’ brow are tight, like he’s struggling to keep his feelings tucked down deep inside of him. “It’s in the past T.K.”

“If it’s in the past, then why are you here?” he asks, keeping his voice gentle.

Carlos swallows, his eyes closing like he’s in pain. There’s a long moment of quiet and T.K. wonders if he’s going to have to let it drop for tonight. But then, “You were gone. There was no one to tell,” Carlos finally says.

That’s what he’d been afraid of. Carlos hadn’t told his family, T.K. already knew that. And he’s far too polite a person to air his grievances to any of their friends, especially since most of them are also T.K.’s colleagues. T.K. is his person. The one he feels safe with. When T.K. walked out of that loft he hadn’t just left Carlos, he’d taken his entire support system with him.

“I’m here. Tell me now,” he says. “Please?”

Carlos’ eyes drop to the third or fourth button down on T.K.’s uniform shirt, the words too difficult to say to his face. “Those nights were awful,” he tells the button. “I would lie in bed, hating myself for pushing you away, furious at you for leaving me. I was—god—I was so lonely, T.K. I wanted you back so damn much it hurt.

He finally lifts his eyes a little and they look haunted, like mentally he’s reliving those awful, dark hours. “I know this isn’t the same. I know you’re just here at work, but sitting there in the quiet tonight, all by myself…”

“It felt like I’d left you all over again,” T.K. finishes for him.

“Yeah, kind of.” His mouth twists and he shifts uncomfortably. “I know this isn’t the same thing. I kept telling myself I’d see you in the morning, but I couldn’t sleep and I couldn’t stop thinking and I just…I wanted to see you.”

“You can always come see me. If you need that reassurance, I will give it to you.”

T.K. takes Carlos’ hand and kisses it before pressing it over his heart, pounding forcefully with grief over mistakes and lost time beneath his ribs. His other hand he secures on Carlos’ hip, his thumb moving back and forth soothingly. “I am here,” he says firmly. “I am coming home to you. Every day. And every night. From now on. You’re not alone in that loft anymore, Carlos. I might not be there all the time, but I will always want to be. It’s our home. I don’t want it to feel like anything else ever again.”

Carlos gives him a lopsided smile. “Me neither.

“Come here.”

He pulls Carlos into his arms, holding him tightly. The tones go off and Carlos tries to let him go but T.K. tucks him in tighter. “It’s just fire, not us,” he says, feeling slightly guilty that he’s glad his teammates are running back to work because it means no one is going to bother them for awhile. 

They stay curled up together for so long, that T.K. wonders if Carlos is going to go back to sleep. But finally he pulls back, his body relaxed and loose. “Better?” T.K. asks.

Carlos nods. “Yes. Thank you.” His gaze turns more serious, assessing. “How are you? Are you feeling all right? How’s the shift been?”

T.K. chuckles. “I’m not the one who fell asleep in my boyfriend’s work bunk. Yes, I’m fine. The shift has been amazing. I missed this so much.”

“You haven’t gotten lightheaded or dizzy? You’re not too tired?”

“No. Not even a little.”

“Good,” Carlos says, relief smoothing out the last of the lines that crease his brow. “I know I’m being selfish, wanting to keep you home with me, but I really am glad you’re back. That all of you are back. It was nice to walk in and see the whole crew together again.”

“Yeah,” T.K. agrees, a warm bloom in his chest.

“I should get going,” Carlos says. “You need to get at least a little sleep tonight.”

“Come on. Since my dad is gone we can raid the secret candy stash before you go. I’ll even let you have some of my Sour Patch Kids.”

Carlos wrinkles his nose as T.K. pulls him to his feet. “I don’t know how you can stand those things.”

“They’re delicious! First they’re sour, then they’re sweet!”

“It’s almost midnight. Didn’t you have cake earlier too? Please tell me you ate a vegetable at dinner.”

[prettygirl-gabi]

Skin

---

‐‐‐

Rating:General Audiences

Warning: Fluff, angst, bitter ex, major friend group dynamic shift

Category:F/M

Fandom: Outerbanks (OBX), (Netflix TV series)

Relationships: JJ Maybank x f reader

Summary: Kie's slowly getting under your skin especially when you're JJ's new girlfriend

Based on recent experiences, and the song skin by Sabrina Carpenter has been stuck in my head for like 6 months on top of the recent experiences...

---

**"Maybe we could’ve been friends, if I met you in another life…"**

The thought crosses my mind as I stand in the middle of the living room, fiddling with my phone, and waiting for JJ to come back from the kitchen. The memory of Kiara's expression when she found out about us is still fresh, lingering like a bitter taste I can’t wash away. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, but I guess things never go as planned.

“You okay?” JJ's voice pulls me from my thoughts as he enters the room, a playful smile tugging at his lips. He’s balancing two mugs of coffee in his hands, making his way toward me like everything in the world is perfectly fine.

I nod, forcing a smile back. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

He hands me one of the mugs, his fingers brushing against mine. The contact is warm, grounding me in the moment. "About Kie?"

I glance away. He knows me too well.

“It’s hard not to think about her,” I admit, sitting down on the worn-out couch. “She was—no, she *is* my friend. I hate that it feels like I’m betraying her.”

JJ sighs and sits next to me, his arm resting casually behind my shoulders. “You didn’t do anything wrong. She’ll come around. It’s just gonna take time.”

**"I’m happy and you hate it, hate it, oh…"**

I wish I could believe him. It’s not that I don’t want to be with JJ—it’s that being with him comes with a whole mess of complications I didn’t see coming. Kie and JJ had always had this unspoken connection. At least, that’s what everyone thought, including me. And then I fell for him. Hard.

Now, it’s like every glance from Kiara is a reminder that I’ve taken something she didn’t realize she wanted until it was too late.

“I don’t think she’s ever going to be okay with it,” I confess quietly. “With us.”

JJ chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Well, that’s too bad. Because I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”

His words make my heart flutter, even though the doubt still lingers in the back of my mind. I know he means it—he’s serious about us, about this. But how do I move forward when the person I care about most next to JJ feels like I’m rubbing this relationship in her face?

**"You can try to get under my, under my, under my skin, while he’s on mine."**

I take a deep breath and lean into him, letting his warmth seep into me. I want to focus on him, on this moment, but the guilt weighs heavy on my chest.

“You think she’ll really get over it?” I ask softly, not really expecting an answer but needing to hear him say it anyway.

JJ turns his head slightly, his lips brushing against my temple. “Eventually. Or maybe not. But either way, I’m not giving this up.” His voice is firm, and I can feel the truth in it.

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to silence the doubt. There’s something undeniably special between us—something that wasn’t there with anyone else. And maybe that’s why it feels so complicated. Maybe that’s why Kiara reacted the way she did when she found out.

**"I wish you knew that even you can’t get under my skin, if I don’t let you in…"**

“It’s not just Kie,” I whisper, more to myself than to him. “It’s everything. The looks. The comments.”

JJ pulls back slightly, his blue eyes searching mine. “You mean from the others? John B? Pope?”

I nod. “They keep acting like this is something we should’ve told them about sooner. Like we should’ve asked for permission or something.”

JJ sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I know it’s complicated with the Pogues, but at the end of the day, they’re gonna support us. Maybe they’re just weirded out because they didn’t see it coming. But who cares? This is about *us*, not them.”

His words are reassuring, but the sting of Kiara’s reaction still sits heavy in my chest. When she found out, the hurt in her eyes was unmistakable. She hadn’t said much, but the silence spoke volumes. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so torn between two people in my life.

“You don’t think I’m a terrible friend, do you?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

JJ tilts his head, his expression softening as he looks at me. “No. You’re not a terrible friend. You just…fell in love. And sometimes, that happens in ways people don’t expect.”

**"And I’m not asking you to let it go, but you’ve been telling your side, so I’ll be telling mine."*

It’s true. Kiara hasn’t exactly been shy about expressing her feelings on the matter, even if it’s been in subtle ways—pointed comments, sideways glances, and the awkward tension that fills the room whenever the three of us are together. But I’ve kept my side of the story mostly to myself, too afraid to make things worse.

“You know she called me the other night?” I say, breaking the silence.

JJ raises an eyebrow. “What did she say?”

“She just…wanted to know why. Why *you*? Why now?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, his jaw tensing slightly as he processes my words. “And what did you tell her?”

I shrug, feeling the weight of that conversation settle over me again. “I told her the truth. That it just…happened. That I didn’t plan on falling for you, but I did.”

JJ’s lips quirk into a small smile, though there’s a hint of sadness in it. “And how did she take that?”

I let out a soft laugh, though it’s more out of exasperation than amusement. “She didn’t really respond. Just said she needed time to figure things out.”

He leans back on the couch, pulling me closer into his side. “Then let her have her time. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

**"You can try to get under my, under my, under my skin… but he’s all mine."**

The thing is, I know he’s right. I know that no matter what happens with Kiara or anyone else, this—what we have—it’s real. And I can’t let their opinions, their judgment, get in the way of that. JJ is mine, and I am his. That’s all that should matter.

“I just don’t want to lose her,” I admit softly, resting my head against his shoulder. “Or anyone.”

“You won’t,” JJ murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “And even if things are rocky for a while, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

I close my eyes, letting the comfort of his words wash over me. Maybe it won’t always be easy. Maybe there will always be a part of Kiara that resents me for this. But I can’t let that hold me back from being happy.

**"You can’t get under my skin, if I don’t let you in."**

And I won’t let her. Not anymore.

I pull back slightly to look at JJ, his face soft in the dim light of the room. “I love you, you know.”

His eyes light up with that mischievous glint I’ve come to adore, and he leans in, his lips brushing mine. “I know. And I love you too.”

For the first time in a while, I feel like maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

‐Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-Gabi✨️🎀

[elumish]

I talk about what writers should do a lot, so now I'm going to take a break and talk about some reforms that I think agents should make.

A caveat: I am not an agent! Unlike when I talk about writing, I am just talking about this as an author who happens to be in the midst of querying. If I have an followers who are agents who think I'm getting something wrong, please let me know!

That said, here I go:

Trad publishing is, fundamentally, about getting past a whole bunch of layers of gatekeepers, and agents are the first gatekeepers. With some very limited exceptions, you can't be trad published without having an agent. From what I can tell, being an agent is a bit of a thankless job--it's based on commission, so an agent only gets money if they are selling their clients' books. (Remember: the money flows towards the writer. If someone claiming to be an agent is telling you that you need to pay them to represent you, run.)

Because of this structure, agents have a massive amount of power over unagented authors, particularly because unagented authors simply do not have another option if they want to trad publish. It is my opinion that that power dynamic is part of the reason why querying actually sucks so unbelievably much for authors.

Now, part of why querying sucks is that it's a numbers game, which means that most of us will lose. Every writer is competing against a gazillion other writers, some of whom are better or writing things that are seen as more sellable or happen to be eariler or whatever. You are going to get a bunch of rejections, and that's not the fault of agents.

But here's the other problem:

There are, from what I can tell, no true industry standards and somewhat limited professional expectations for agents when it comes to how to deal with querying. Again, this is what it looks like from the outside--agents, if I'm getting this wrong, please let me know.

For example, many agencies and many agents will have different rules about what you can submit to them and how, and in many cases those rules are in somewhat arbitrary places, which means that querying authors have to hunt for them, and it's easy to run afoul of them even when you're trying. It's common for some agencies to say that you can't query two agents from the same agency at the same time, but some say that you can't query two agents from them ever--a rejection from one is a rejection from all.

But most agents' Twitter bios/MSWL pages/personal pages/etc. don't say that--which means that authors need to hunt through every individual agency's webpage and then cross-reference against every agent that they have ever queried previously, which can be arduous when many people are querying dozens or hundreds of agents. It also means needing to keep track of things like when agents switch agencies.

There are also no standard expectations for agents to actually respond to queries in any sort of time span, or at all, which complicates the above issue even more. But it also is just (imho) kind of unprofessional to ghost people who are seeking a professional relationship with you, when you have explicitly asked them to reach out to you seeking that professional relationship.

And to make that worse, many agents don't say whether or not they respond to all queries, meaning that authors are often left wondering if a 6-month or longer wait is a "no" or an "I haven't gotten to this yet but will definitely respond to you."

There are more issues that I could cite, but my overall point in this is that authors have no recourse here. There's not authors' union, no way to go on strike until agents change what they're doing.

And some agents are really awesome about this! But enough are not, and authors don't really know what they're going to get when they query someone.

So all of this is to say that, if you are an agent, here are some fairly easy changes I would love for you to make to your own behavior to make querying a little bit less of a nightmarish hellscape for authors (and thank you so much if you already do some or all of these):

Respond to every query that you receive

Tell people your general response times and be communicative if that changes. It's okay if it regularly takes you six months! Just tell us it regularly takes you six months, so we're not left wondering if we've been ghosted at four months

Outline all submission guidelines on Query Manager or where you accept queries, including things like a) rules about whether a rejection from one is a rejection from all, b) length expectations for things like synopses (I've seen a range), and c) any other expectations you have (e.g., you require trigger warnings). Don't make people hunt through 2-4 websites to find what you want

Stop asking or at least strongly rethink how you ask about Own Voices or why an author feels like they are qualified to write about a marginalized identity--I understand the impulse, but nobody should be expected to disclose medical or other personal information like that in a professional setting

Also, just to say (other than please don't reject my query because of this post), agents: authors really do appreciate the work you all do. I want someone to work with to get published, because I am very well aware that I am not the expert in this situation.

And again, please tell me if I got anything wrong or misrepresented anything.

[frodo-with-glasses]

Where have you been?

Uhhh, France?

(That’s a Hamilton reference, btw. I have never been to France.)

So! Another Hobbit Day is upon us. On this day last year, I’d promised you all that we would take another trek through LotR, with all new drawings and poems and fanfics. I fully expected to be finished with Book One by now, at least halfway through FotR. What actually happened is that the blog struggled through the first five and a half chapters of the book before suddenly going radio silent.

So what happened?

Well, as you might expect, real life happened. I won't go into the details here—since it has nothing to do with LotR—but I can explain in DMs if anyone is interested.

Basically, a change in my family led to a reexamination of what I thought I knew about my family, which led to a reexamination of what I thought I knew about myself, which kicked off an intense period of self-improvement.

Over the course of this past year, I began to unpack my family's abuse; I learned about boundaries; I started to unlearn my old people-pleasing tendencies; I reconnected relationships that were broken, reevaluated ones that were in the wrong place, and cut off ones that weren't good for me. I discovered there was a little kid in my head who's been waiting years and years for an adult to love her, and to take her needs seriously, and I finally have the chance to be that adult. And I'm happy to say that I've come to a place where I feel safer in my own head than I have ever been.

Probably very little of that is going to show through on this blog. It's all inward stuff; foundational stuff. But one thing that might affect you guys is that I left my (dreadfully overstimulating and stressful) part-time job, and I'm now working full time somewhere else. As much as I love what I do for a living now, working 40 hours a week does mean that I am become Boring Adult who does not have as much time for interneting. With my current schedule, there is no way I'd be able to sustain the intense schedule of "must post one drawing a day" that I had in the early days of this blog; and I don't expect myself to.

But! I would like to—slowly—get this train rolling again.

I find it hilariously apropos that the last piece of art I posted on this blog was of Frodo suddenly disappearing. From Merry's perspective, he completely vanished without explanation or warning. From your perspective, so did I.

But I find myself here again, on another September 22nd, and once again I'm beginning to feel that pull; that pull to read, and draw, and create, and share, and laugh with all of you. Life has calmed down enough for me that I once again have the mental space to think about pursuing my hobbies. There are so many things I want to do—so much to do with the time that is given to me. And I want this blog to be on that list.

My current goal is to post some new book art every other day. If that's too much, I'll adjust it. But if I find my groove and really get into it, who knows? We might return to your regularly scheduled Daily Dose of Frodo-With-Glasses. We shall have to see.

Anyway. If you've read this far, thank you! If you've stuck with this blog since the early days, thank you. And if you are one of that lovely core Fellowship that has had my back and prayed for me all along, I cannot thank you enough.

This past year has been an absolute ride. Not as difficult as a trek to Mordor, maybe, but not easy either. But no matter where I walked, I knew I didn't have to take the journey alone.

Anyway! Enough sappiness. Happy Hobbit Day! I'm excited to see what the next year has in store for us. 💚

[baensz]

You know. . . I used to be a normal, semi normal, Kinda normal human being. . .Then ‘Deadpool & Wolverine’ came out. . . And a pet play kink came with it! So enjoy my Poolverine/Deadclaws brainrot. (NONE OF THIS IS EDITED, SORRY FOR MISSPELLINGS OR SENTENCES THAT DON’T MAKE SENSE!)

Good boy

Rating: 17+

Warnings: Pet play, Swearing, Mild Sexual content. (Don’t like, don’t read)

Background: Logan has the ears and tail of a Wolverine. Wade and Logan are an established relationship. Logan and Wade live in an apartment together. They’ve been a thing for about a year. I think that it, enjoy!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Nights were never good for Logan, they hadn’t been ‘good’ in years. It’s not easy for one to go through as much as he has and sleep peacefully at night. . . How could you? Knowing the people you’ve hurt, the future’s you stole, were never coming back.

Those thoughts are exactly what Logan’s night terrors emulated. It always started off the same way. . .

He’s at Xavier’s school for the gifted, with his fellow X-men, all together in the kitchen. They are all laughing having a good time, Logan is taking in everything silently before he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns to find a concerned Scott.

“What’s wrong, lo?’ He asks, placing his hand on the small of the older’s back, just above his tail.

“Nothing, just enjoying the atmosphere.” Logan replied, with a small smile.

“Are you sure? Are you sure you aren’t feeling guilty?” Scott tilted his head.

“Guilty? Why would I-“ before Logan to comprehend the question he felt a pressure against his tailbone. The pressure turned into a sharp pain as he realized that he had been stabbed. “UGhh!”

Logan’s legs gave away as he crashed to the floor, scrambling to look towards the culprit of his temporary paralysis. Logan’s eyes widen, Scott is standing above him, welding a sharp pare of blackened claws, while the rest of the X-men gather around Logan’s body.

“You should be guilty for leaving us to die!” Scott shouted. . . But it didn’t sound like the man he knew anymore. This voice was breaking, becoming more disoriented by the second. Logan’s stared in horror as the bodies of his family shifted into contorted and mutilated into the corpse’s that he had left behind.

“N-no. I, I d-didn’t mean too!” Logan pleaded as he watched the blood pour from the animated corpse’s, dancing around his body. Why wasn’t he healing? And why weren’t his claws working?

“it’s all your fault, Logan. IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!” The voices screamed in unison, clawing towards the man, tearing at his flesh while their cries of agony ring throughout the walls-

Logan shoots up from bed, claws extended and slashing through the air violently. He was drenched in sweat, his sensitive ears were still ringing from the pained cries, pinned back flat as he panted heavily.

The older blinked a few times before stilling his arms. His senses were starting to come back to him. He wasn’t on the floor of the X-Men mansion, being attacked by disfigured versions of his friends. . , he was in his bedroom, the one he shared with— Oh fuck! Wade!

Logan was quick to retract his claws as he turned to his partner’s bedside, expecting to find Wade. (Hopefully not wound.) His body tensed when he saw the empty spot.

The Wolverine jumped out of bed before his mind had time to even register he was awake, sprinting for the closed bedroom door. He didn’t care about anything other than finding Wade and making sure he was safe.

Logan swung the door open, rushing out as his claws shot out of his chuckles for a second time. He was prepared for anything. . . What he wasn’t prepared for was Wade’s confused over the shoulder glance from the stovetop in the kitchen.

“You alright, peanut?” Wade puzzled, clicking the burners heat off, before turning his attention to the clearly paranoid man. Wade was wearing his stupid ‘kiss the cook’ apron over top of his Hello Kitty pj shirt, that matched his pants. Logan examined him quickly before determining that Wade was not injured nor in danger.

“Yeah, sorry…” Logan grumbled, retracting his claws before making his way into the small kitchen. He met Wade half way, sliding his arms around the younger’s thin waist, pulling him closely as Logan captures their lips in a deep kiss.

Wade smiled into the kiss, he gently separated the two as he chuckled softly. “I’m not gonna say I’m not enjoying this, because I am, but you’re never this affectionate in the mornings. What’s got you so worked up, peanut?”

“It’s nothing, bub.” Logan grumbles. Wade tilts his head, giving the other that annoying all knowing look.

“Another nightmare?” The younger pressed softly, caressing his hand on the older’s face, smoothing out his wild facial hair. Logan’s eyes drifted from Wade’s as he nodded pitifully at the floor.

“What was it about them?” Wade ventured further. All his partner did was nod, that’s all Logan felt he could do. He wasn’t good with words, he never was.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Logan thought about it. Was there? Could he take away the nightmares? Change the past? fix everything that kept Logan from having a peaceful sleep? As far as he knew, Wade couldn’t do anything of those things, so, he simply shook his head and stepped away from his partner, moving his arms back to his side.

“Well, do you think you could help me? Maybe it’ll get your mind off it.” Wade offered, his smiled was wild and wide, yet comforting. That was a good idea. Whether Logan would ever admit that to Wade was a long shot but he could do something simple, it’s only fair.

“Yeah, what do you need?” The older asked, the two round ears on his head perking up with anticipation. Wade chuckled behind his hand as he pointed towards the cupboard above the fridge. “Can you grab the bread for me, pretty please.”

The Wolverine nodded, setting off to complete his given task, while The Deadpool turned his attention back over to the eggs in the pan. Taking the shaker out of its holder, Wade season’s the yokes, giving them a generous amount of pepper and salt. By the time he’s done, Logan is standing by his side, hand extended towards him, waiting patiently for Wade to take the loaf of bread in the bag.

The younger chuckled as he took it from the other, only to place it on the counter.

“Good boy.” Wade joked, expecting the usual reaction, an angry groan along with a tired roll of the eyes. What he wasn’t expecting was the sound of a delicate thumping against the cupboard as Logan’s face flushed a soft shade of pink.

Wade wasted no time in search for the source of the sound. . . The mercenary felt his jaw drop as his eyes fell upon the sight. Logan’s tail was wagging!!

“No, fucking, way. You like that, don’t you Wolvie?” He pressed, a mix of amusement and disbelief lingering in his tone as he mentally captured every single moment of this interaction in full detail, hopefully for future blackmail, or maybe even one for the spank bank.

“Fuck you. . .” Logan huffed, eyes refusing to meet with Wades. The older would like to believe that he knows the younger well enough to know that you should never look a Deadpool in the eyes. They can always find a way into your mind. Breaking down the walls bit by bit to expose the most vulnerable parts. . . In the most annoying way possible.

“Fuck me? Fuck you! Even your own tail says otherwise, peanut.” Wade chuckles, pointing to the obvious downfall of Logan’s argument.

The Wolverine growls, barring his fangs in a scowl as he quickly grabs hold of his tail, tucking it behind his back, down casting his head as if he should be ashamed for the situation at play.

The Deadpool does nothing but flash a dangerous smile as he advances forward, quick to capture the other, planting a firm grip on Logan’s jaw.

The older’s eyes shot up as he felt the rough hand tug his head back up. Logan swallowed back the repressed whimper as he meets the others eyes. He knows what Wade is looking for and he knows that Wade is going to find it. Logan found a familiar comfort having his emotional walls built up around him, kept him from overthinking every small feeling that hit his heart, but with the combination of the previous nights terrors and now this simple nickname, Logan could feel the walls around him tremble, pieces falling away to give Wade a peak of what was underneath.

Vulnerability. That's biology. No one is born rotten to the core or as hard as stone. . . That person is created through experience whether good or bad. Unfortunately in Logan's case the cards have never truly been in his favour and Wade can see parts of that, He just needs to weaken the walls, not until they crumble, but just enough to see the rest.

Before the Wolverine could clue in on The Deadpool's intentions he felt the mercenary's free hand snake it's way to his hidden wrist, gripping it tightly as Wade crept towards his ear.

“You’re all bark and no bite, huh?" Wade cooed playfully, strengthening his grip on the other.

"Wade. . ." Logan huffed as he winced. His hand began to pulsate due to the lack of blood, sending a chill through his spine.

"That's me" The younger smiled wildly, examining every inch of the older man's face. . . the pink flush overtaking his normal complexion along with a slight glow, probably sweat. His wet, pink lips lightly parted and coated with shinny drool from the excessive panting. Logan looked desperately for an escape. In truth if he was acting like himself at the moment, it would be a simple and rather clean escape, yet, he didn't feel like him. He felt lost in Wade’s grip, out of control and eager for a solution to this agony.

"What's wrong, puppy?" The mercenary cooed, placing the pad of his thumb against the older's tongue. "Cat got your tongue?"

The Wolverine's knees buckled under the loss of control. The walls that once were used to protect him from situations similar to this, were now bursting at the seams. One wrong movement and it's over. Wade will have won. Logan caught himself against the counter, abandoning his captive tail in the process with a whine. His pulsing hand becoming to much to keep his wild tail at bay.

"Aw. That got you, didn't it?" The Deadpool taunted. Releasing the others wrist. Logan's shot a glare at the younger. What was Wade planning? The anxiety of the uncertainty only added to Logan's breakdown.

“Wade, please. Enough…” The older mumbles his plea around the others thumb, his frustration turning into desperation. All of Logan’s instincts were screaming at him to bite down, hoping to tasted the blood of his enemy. . . But then the mercenary spoke up.

“Why not be a good boy for a change, hm?” Curiosity lacing Wade’s tone.

The Wolverine felt his chest tighten, breath hitching in the process. The Deadpool’s thumb vacated It’s space on the other tongue, basking in the glory of the older’s state.

“I-I… you can’t call me that.” Logan stated shakingly as if it was a fact.

Wade laughed, suddenly slapping away the others wrist from the counter, watching Logan’s knees give under his weight, crashing down to the tiled floor, a cry slipping from his lips, due to the sudden collapse.

“What’s stopping me, puppy?” Wade asked, tauntingly as he bent over to meet Logan’s eyes.

“M’not g-good.” The Wolverine swallowed hard, before stuttering softly. “M’ an a-animal”

The Deadpool watched as his partners ears dropped, not enough to lay flat against his head but just enough to express his insecurities.

“Who told you that, peanut?” Wade chuckled. A ping of pain hit his heart as he saw the fear cloud in Logan’s eyes. The older gave his partner a look as if trying to ask him ‘who hadn’t called him an animal?’ And then it clicked in the mercenaries head. Logan truly believed that he was nothing more than an animal. A weapon. A monster. . . Incapable and undeserving of praise. He wasn’t supposed to be the ‘good boy’, after what he did to the X-Men. . . He could never be a ‘good boy’.

“You’re not an animal, Logan.” Wade cooed. Before Logan could get a word out, Wade brought his pointer finger to his partners lips. “Shh, I’m not done.”

The older obeyed as he looked intently into the younger’s eyes, giving Wade his full attention. ‘And he didn’t consider himself a good boy’. Wade thought as he mentally rolled his eyes.

“You are the furthest thing from an animal, peanut. Sure, you’ve done some fucked up shit, but look at who you’re talking to! The king of fucking up shit!” Wade chuckled as he watched Logan’s shoulders slowly lower. It’s working!

“It’s not your fault. . . With the x-men, I mean. You didn’t know, pup. You must be mad to think what the government did was your fault.”

Something in Logan’s eye’s shifted, every muscle in his body suddenly falling. He. . . He was right. Wade. . . As much as it pained him to say it, was right. He- he didn’t know. He always kept beating himself down about how he failed to know. But never really talking in the fact that there was nothing to indicate such an attack. . . He didn’t mean to be selfish.

“I- I could’ve-“ Logan started before being cut off once more.

“Could’ve what? Saw into the future and somehow changed the outcome?” Wade questioned. Logan’s ears fell flat, his eyes downcast towards the tile, expressing every emotion in one defeated sigh.

“You are a good boy, Logan. I don’t care what you’ve done. You can be good. I know you can.” The younger soothed, tilting the older’s chin up with his two fingers. “Just let me help you.”

Wade captured Logan’s eyes. He was stunned at what he saw.

The Wolverines pupils were blown, leaving his eyes pitch black pools of vulnerability, scared and alone. Begging for safety and comfort, feeling stripped away of his dignity as his tail thumps against the floor.

“See, I told you, you’re a good boy.” The Deadpool cooed, hands cupping the others red, flustered face. A long soft whine emanated from the older, as he relaxed into the hold, his tail thumping wildly behind him as he listened to Wade’s sweet praises.

“You’re my good boy.” The younger soothes, taking in the beauty below him, wiping away the light bits of drool that threatened to fall from the older’s soft lips.

Logan felt his heart swell in his chest, because for the first time in a long time. . . He believed it. He felt safe within Wade’s grasp. The older found a comfort in the fact that the younger was seeing him in such a vulnerable state and was staying by his side. When walls fell down in the past it lead to ridicule and shame from the by stander around, keeping the Wolverine from truly believing that this side of his personality could never be loved.

Yet, here Wade was. . . Staring lovingly into Logan’s eyes, silencing every negative thought or emotion that came to the surface. If it wasn’t for the fact that the Deadpools mutation was in fact breaking the forth wall, Logan would be convinced that he was telekinetic.

Just with a simple stare he could make the older man drop to his knees. The younger’s touch keeping him grounded and the praise that fell from the merc’s mouth kept his tail thumping the same repeated rhythm against the cold, wood floor. This man had him under his control and Logan was more than willing to obey, desperate to be a good boy for his master.

“Whatcha say we go deal with this?” Wades words hung thick like taffy as his socked foot pushed against the others obvious erection. Wade felt Logan rut against his foot, whining out a muffled moan, eyes shutting as a shiver shot through his spine.

“P-please!” The older begged as he felt the younger’s foot circle around his clothed cock. Pre-cum soaking his underwear as he withered under Wades control.

“Please? Please, what, pup?” The Deadpool teases as his hands shift to the nape of the Wolverines neck, imbedding his fingers in the roots of the others hair. Logan felt his skin tingle as Wade began to pet, and scratch his scalp.

Logan felt his words slip from his mind as he huffed out soft noises, hoping and praying that Wade could simply read his mind. Take him to the bedroom and fuck him so hard into the mattress that he’ll need to literally crawl out of bed in the morning.

“Come on puppy, I thought you were my good boy. . .” Wade tsked as his foot ceased it’s motion. Logan cried out in desperation as he thrusted his hips against the still foot, begging for friction. Logan opened his eyes once again, heart dropping once he met Wade’s gaze. Tears welling up at the disappointment in Wade’s sight, his tail stopping at the realization before tucking between his legs in shame.

"Aw, no need for tears, cupcake. Talking is hard right now, huh big guy?" Wade soothed, moving his hands through the older man's hair, scratching the most sensitive spots with gentle hands. The Wolverine whimpered as he nodded pitifully, leaning into the warm hands of the Deadpool.

"That's okay, I know what you need." the younger slurred, toned heavy with lust, drawing the older even closer as his hands dropped from Logan's wild hair, earning Wade a sharp whine in protest.

"I think a good boy like you deserves a treat." Wade chuckled to himself as the sound of a light thumping could be heard once more. "What do you think, pup?"

Logan nodded eagerly up at Wade, eyes fixated upon the younger, awaiting his next command with excitement.

"Good boy. Head to the bedroom, I'll be there in a sec." Wade praised, roughing up Logan's hair. The Wolverine huffed as he rose from his kneeling position, tail continually wagging as he made his way towards the bedroom, a small pep in his step. The Deadpool smirking as he watched the other comply, seemingly excited for what was to come.

Wade strides towards the bedroom, his hand gripping the handle tightly. His body tenses as he eyes the fourth wall.

“Sorry for the cock block.” The merc chuckles as he slams the door shut. Leaving the reader questioning what could be happening behind that door.

[fen-luciel]

Jealousy part 3

Part 1_2

Warnings: age gap/toxic behavior

Vernestra-Padawan reader/jedi Qimir

Leave a comment and share if you are enjoying the story.

It was less than two days after that dinner that I confronted my master during one of her working nights.

I went to visit her late, the deserted hallways and dim lights guiding me as I made my way to one of the meeting rooms where I knew she would go when she needed a place to concentrate.

I had been tossing and turning for a long time in bed. Time passed as usual, yet it felt as if I had a clock ticking over my head. I could hear the ticking of the seconds, a countdown that kept me awake, though I couldn’t understand its end or meaning. Or rather, I suspected what was tormenting me... no.

I knew.

That acidic feeling twisting my stomach was tied to all those memories that kept replaying in my head, sweet memories that I felt were inevitably becoming more and more tainted every day. I had decided that I needed to take a break, some distance, to grow. And if I couldn’t manage that, then it would be ridiculous to complain about something I wasn’t trying to change myself.

So, I gathered my courage.

As soon as I left my room, I realized that Vernestra was not there. In the shared living room, there were still signs of her passage, like some books piled on the table, the chair moved, and the lamp turned off and left near the rest. Just to be sure, I checked her bedroom, but my suspicions were confirmed when I saw the bed still perfectly made.

I went out after putting a cloak over my pajamas. I knew exactly where she was when she needed her space to work, so I took the stairs to the lower floors.

It was late at night, the moonlight outside lighting my path even though it was mostly clear, given the simple and empty hallways of the Jedi Temple. From a distance, I saw the orange light under the door that I recognized well. I knocked a couple of times before opening it, knowing that just as I expected to see her there, she knew that only I would come looking for her. And indeed, when I stepped into the room, she didn’t even lift her eyes to look at me.

She was sitting at the center of the large oval table, numerous papers spread before her, with some secondary, warm-toned lights illuminating the table's surface. I closed the door behind me using the Force as I approached, sitting on the opposite side from her, the cloak wrapped tightly around my waist, the hood over my head to shield me from the light evening breeze coming through the cracked windows.

“Trouble sleeping?” she asked, breaking the silence that had surrounded us after a few minutes of my entrance.

Her eyes remained fixed on the papers she was reading and marking with a pen from time to time. I stared at her in silence, mesmerized by those simple gestures, the rough sound of the pen scratching the paper and the surface beneath it. I could have lived that moment for the rest of my life. In peace.

"I need to talk to you," I began after exhaling deeply. I pulled my feet onto the chair to hug my legs tightly, a cold I didn’t understand shaking me to the core. I don’t know if she noticed something was wrong or if it was just a natural reaction to my words, but she stopped writing to finally look me in the face, her expression furrowed, perhaps picking up on something in the few words I had spoken.

“Of course. Tell me, my padawan.”

I pursed my lips into a line before clearing my throat. I looked away for a moment before meeting her gaze again, Qimir’s name echoing in my mind, "I’d like to receive a mission away from the temple for a while. I need a change of scenery. I feel ready." That last sentence connected to what had happened some time ago when I had a breakdown in Qimir’s arms. We had agreed together that I would stay near the temple until I felt safe again. Even the missions we had done together had always been in safer, more controlled locations. But now, I needed that distance, even if I didn’t feel quite ready.

She placed the pen on the table, her posture now composed as she leaned back in her chair, her fingers slightly intertwined in front of her on the smooth surface. "Is that what’s making you so restless? I could feel you were agitated in your room."

Obviously, she understood that something was going on. It was impossible to pull the wool over her eyes in such a childish way. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you," I replied, buying myself a few moments to think.

She shook her head, her gaze still fixed on mine, making me uneasy. I could almost feel her thinking, as if she were trying to read my mind through my eyes. "Please. You know I would have come here anyway. It helps me focus. But, you haven't seemed at ease these days. I was hoping you’d come to talk to me when you felt ready, and now this is what you're asking me? Is there nothing else?"

We were both whispering, perhaps caught in the stillness of the quiet evening, yet her words hit me like a slap. Of course there was more, I wasn’t a good liar, or maybe the lie itself was too far-fetched to be believable. But I needed to distance myself from Qimir.

"I'm... suffocating here. I want to try and take that next step, even if... it scares me." I admitted, without revealing too much, pulling the fabric of my cloak tightly around my knees, curling into a cocoon on the chair.

There were a few more moments of silence before she lowered her gaze back to her papers. "Alright, you could actually help me with these senators. It’s nothing complicated—you’d mostly be there to reassure them. I can send you with Qimir if—" but I cut her off abruptly, my tone sharper. "No."

I realized my mistake, but it was too late to take it back. She looked at me, still hunched over the sheet she had picked up, then slowly set it down before leaning forward onto the table, her elbows on the surface, hands clasped together once again. "No to the mission? Or no to Qimir?"

She already knew the answer, I could hear it in her tone when she said his name, emphasizing and drawing out the letters. Whether she wanted me to admit it or not, it was obvious she had already figured it out. Their relationship hadn’t been great for a while now, and I knew that well. Still, she had never said anything bad about him in front of me, but now she seemed ready to point fingers.

"I... should go alone, right?" I didn’t feel up to voicing my doubts about Qimir. The guilt was eating me alive, and I didn’t think I had any right to accuse him of anything, but I also couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine in a relationship I was starting to feel trapped in. "It's not about Qimir. Really." I sounded like I was trying to convince myself more than her. "I want to take the next step. To move forward on my own."

I struggled to meet her gaze, preferring to focus on the slight fluttering of the papers scattered across the table, swaying at the corners with the light gusts that came rhythmically every few minutes. She, on the other hand, was seeking out my eyes with thinly veiled insistence. "And that's it? Nothing else to add? If something’s bothering you, you should tell me, padawan."

I nodded. "I need to move forward."

Long moments followed my words, as I lost myself in the light scratches on the table’s surface, and she remained still, her gaze fixed on me. "Okay. Then..." she finally moved, reaching for the datapad casually resting to the side. "Here." She placed the device in the center of the table in front of me. Moments later, a hologram of a planet appeared. "This is Ord Mantell. There are conflicts on the planet due to particularly violent political debates. They have no shortage of soldiers, and the Jedi haven’t been requested as assistance, but there’s a shortage of doctors and nurses. I’ve been organizing a potential team to send, and you could act as an assistant, helping out in the field."

I listened in silence, but with a light in my eyes that grew brighter with every word she said. I had always wanted to serve as a medic. I’d asked her countless times, even at the cost of falling behind on missions, a request she had always denied—until that night.

"Really?!" I squealed, more excited than I wanted to admit, and she nodded.

That was enough to distract me from Qimir, even more than I had imagined at first. I went to bed excited, but also a bit nervous, afraid that it was all just a dream or worse, a lie. But the next day, when I came out of the bedroom, everything was already prepared.

My bags, the transport, the mission details.

Everything.

I couldn’t help but notice the more pronounced bags under Vernestra's eyes, a sign that she had spent the entire night organizing my departure. I didn’t thank her verbally, knowing she wasn’t the type. A single glance was enough to show her how much I appreciated what she had done for me, and I knew from her smile that she had received the message.

It was still early morning when I got into the taxi that would take me to the spaceport where the rest of the team was waiting. I didn’t look back twice, caught up in the euphoria.

There wasn’t room to think about anything else.

From the first day I set foot there, I was already swamped with duties. The situation was truly tragic, between refugees and soldiers. Being there as part of the humanitarian aid meant we had the responsibility to help anyone in need, which in practice meant our base was completely packed in every corner.

The main hospital in one of the safe towns was the gathering point for all sorts of aliens—displaced children, homeless families, wounded of every kind. They were everywhere, crammed inside and outside the base where a tent camp had been set up for when there weren’t enough beds.

For the record, I don’t think I ever saw a bed free.

Once again, my expectations didn’t compare to reality. Sure, they teach you to be ready for anything, but reading or hearing about it was nothing like the real thing.

Maybe I was too young to be there. I wasn’t even the youngest, actually—I saw ten-year-olds helping as best they could, carrying medicine and tools to those who needed them. But there was a huge difference between us.

You could see the war and pain in their eyes. The galaxy had already marked them deeply, but me... I was weak.

I don’t know how many attempts it took me to get used to the pools of blood, the terrifying wounds of the soldiers, the cries of the families. It was all psychologically crushing, to the point that I even considered quitting.

Not the mission.

The Jedi.

I didn’t even have the stomach to help those in need. Was it really worth doing a humble job like a librarian or a caretaker?

Maybe they were better than me—they were there out of vocation, not to run away. I, on the other hand, wanted to flee.

Maybe being a Jedi wasn’t my path.

I stayed there for months. I told myself I’d talk to my master about my thoughts when I returned. Maybe it was too early to judge myself, maybe I really just needed time, maybe I needed to be forced through it. But... wasn’t that all wrong? The fact that I was in the middle of a war at such a young age. Inexperienced... alone.

I managed to make some friends, meet other Jedi, but I still felt a void.

I wanted to talk to my master about my doubts, but I didn’t want to worry her even more.

So, I called the one person I thought I was close to.

Qimir.

I felt uncomfortable calling him after disappearing for months without saying anything, but I believed he would understand. He knew better than I did the pace of our duties.

It was a particularly stressful evening that convinced me to call him. We had suffered many losses, and I had run away every single time. When the patients started gasping their final breaths, I froze, terrified. My hands would tremble, and I’d be pushed aside to make room for someone more capable.

I used to think death was quiet, yet all I kept hearing were breaths drowning in blood and bodies convulsing with unnatural, monstrous spasms, I would say.

I fled, leaving death behind, took a shower with the little freezing water that came from the showerhead, and threw myself into bed, but I couldn’t sleep.

I wanted to clear my head, but I had nowhere to escape to, so I thought of Qimir.

I needed him and his comfort.

So, I decided to call him.

He answered after a few minutes. I expected to see him looking sleepy, but what appeared before me was a very different image. He was wearing his usual tunic, his hair slick with sweat, his face dirty with soil.

"Look who’s shown up."

He smiled at me, but the warmth I was hoping for was nowhere to be found.

"Qimir... I didn’t mean to disturb you, but..." I pulled my legs to my chest, curled up on the bed, the blankets reaching my chin.

"Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?" He interrupted, his voice low, hoarse.

"I... it was a last-minute thing. I talked to Vernestra and—"

He let out a laugh that cut off my words. "I bet. She wanted to get you away from me."

I looked at him, confused. My heart skipped a beat—something about the start of this conversation didn’t feel... right.

"What? No. It was something I had asked for and—"

"So, it was you who wanted to leave?" The question came out almost like a growl.

For some reason, I sat up on the mattress, something in the pit of my stomach making me feel uneasy.

"Qimir, what are you saying? Did... something happen?"

He stayed silent for a few minutes.

Something in his gaze was off... he seemed angry. Or maybe there was more to it—I could glimpse a sinister spark in his eyes.

"Vernestra didn’t tell you, did she? We’re at odds over you."

I remained silent, confused, trying to understand what he meant, and he took that as a cue to continue.

"I asked her to make you my padawan."

I wondered how long ago he had visited her,

"She refused."

I bit my lip, thinking. I wanted to try and lighten the conversation, but it didn’t seem possible. "Qimir... I... I don’t understand. I don’t know why you want me to—" I tried to speak slowly, searching for the right words, but a thud on the other end made me jump. "You don’t understand? Don’t you see? The bond between us? We’re meant for each other. You are mine." The icy expression he gave me took my breath away.

This... this wasn’t right.

"No, Qimir. You’re losing control. I want to help you, I’ll talk to Vernestra and—" another thud interrupted me. Wherever he was sitting, he suddenly stood up, his hands clenched into fists. Despite the small size of the hologram, I could still feel an aura... dark. Suffocating.

"I’m tired of hearing you mention her. She’s the one clouding your mind. I’ll deal with her, and I’ll show you who’s right."

He ended the call.

I sat there, mouth half-open, ready to say words I couldn’t even begin to form.

What was he doing? Why did everything seem worse now that I was away?

I wanted to call him back, but the thought made my hands tremble.

I wanted to call Vernestra, but I didn’t have the courage to say aloud what I was starting to suspect.

So, I wrote her a message.

A long message about Qimir and some of his behavior. I never explicitly mentioned his words—they were more suspicions and general doubts, not accusations.

Again, I was weak... I couldn’t accuse him of anything.

I sent it and got back under the covers.

I couldn’t sleep, and things got worse when I received a response in the middle of the night.

"Qimir has become dangerous to himself and others. Stay away from him. Don’t return to the temple until I tell you."

That was the last straw.

It was confirmation.

No need to say anything explicitly—she seemed to understand exactly what I was referring to.

I spent a long time reading and rereading that message, and the longer the minutes passed, the more a bad feeling weighed on me.

The Force seemed to speak through my nerves, a frightened voice telling me to move, to act before the worst could happen.

I didn’t think twice.

I got up on shaky feet and quickly packed a backpack with my essentials. There were only a few hours until dawn, and it was easy to find someone to ask for help among the other Jedi.

I didn’t say much, just that I wanted to speak to my master about the past few months. In less than three hours, I knew where to find her and was on a shuttle that would take me to the base in space where I’d board a small single-seater to reach my destination.

I ate some rations with trembling hands, spent hours in hyperspace, lost in my thoughts. I tried writing a message—actually, several messages to my master—but she didn’t seem to be responding.

So, in a panic, I wrote to Qimir, something casual asking where he was and what he was doing, but he didn’t answer either.

It could mean everything or nothing, but I was nervous. I needed to see her, to know more about what was happening between those two.

I reached the planet in the middle of the afternoon. It was mostly a research area, with a few peaceful towns, and miles of mountains and swamps. I landed in the town where I knew I would find her along with other Jedi. Nothing seemed familiar, but as soon as I introduced myself, I was warmly welcomed.

"Where can I find my master?" I asked.

The answer I received nearly gave me a heart attack.

"She’s up in the mountains, collecting more samples and traces. Why the rush, though? Not even two hours ago, Qimir was here asking about her as well."

I stammered some nonsense in reply and headed straight into the dense forest.

I didn’t realize that the directions, while accurate, were vague about the distance, and by the time I continued running, the sky had begun to darken.

I felt the Force calling out to me, screaming a warning—the sense that something terrible was about to happen. I wanted to believe I was just being paranoid, but I knew something was wrong.

I started to recognize traces on the ground—signs of digging, markings on the trees... and finally, the sound.

A man’s voice shouting.

I was exhausted from the running and the lack of sleep accumulating with each minute, but at last, I saw them.

They were at the edge of the forest, beyond a cliff that separated them from the other side of the woods.

"You abandoned me!" Qimir suddenly shouted, making me jump. Vernestra was staring at him intently without saying a word, her expression hard, her posture rigid.

"You’re losing your way. Surrender and let me help you."

At that moment, I noticed Qimir had his lightsaber in hand. As he moved to strike, I jumped out of the shadows, shouting his name.

Silence surrounded us.

Both of them realized my presence at that moment, looking at me in surprise.

Qimir whispered my name before taking a step toward me, his eyes wide. The coldness I had once recognized was now clear in his gaze. It terrified me.

Almost at the same time, Vernestra and I drew our lightsabers against him. I took a defensive stance, stepping back, my hands trembling.

"You’re pointing a weapon at me? After all the time we’ve spent together?" His voice was hoarse, low, almost a whisper that made me shake like a leaf.

"Qimir... please... you’re scaring me," I admitted, my eyes locked on his.

I don’t know if seconds or minutes passed, but his response was the final piece of that disaster.

"You’ve been deceived, just like I was, by Vernestra. But don’t worry, I’ll save you, my flower."

With a feline leap, he turned, his blue saber clashing with her purple one.

I stood there, frozen, watching them. I could barely recognize them, so angry with each other. The smiles, the jokes, the time spent together—it all seemed like it had never existed behind those furious eyes.

They fought relentlessly, without holding back. It was the first time I had ever seen two experienced Jedi in battle—fighting to survive a mortal duel.

I knew both of their combat styles well, as they had both trained me. I wanted to act, to move and help my master, but I didn’t have the courage. I wasn’t sure if I was more afraid of hurting Qimir or of the dangerous fight itself, but all I could do was watch, my mouth trembling.

I snapped out of my trance when I heard Qimir’s furious shout. "I will kill you!"

With a swift move, he struck her hard in the side, and without thinking, I rushed forward, putting myself between them and blocking his next blow.

"Qimir, please, no—" I managed to stop him again. My hands were shaking, and I was gripping my saber so tightly that my fingers hurt.

I pushed him back a few steps, my ears ringing, unable to sense my surroundings, too focused on him—on his rage-filled eyes, his furious strikes, the sound of our sabers clashing, too often close to my face, stealing the air from my lungs.

"Stay in your place, or I’ll teach you a lesson."

I blocked another strike, but I was naïve to think it would work again. With a precise slash, he cut my lightsaber in half, leaving me defenseless.

The crystal in the center of the hilt was shattered, now split into two pieces that I held in my hands.

Still in shock, I let my guard down, and he took the chance to throw me against a tree. I hit the ground, gasping in pain.

In front of me, Vernestra seemed to have recovered and reentered the battle.

The blow had stunned me, leaving my heart in my throat. I rubbed my eyes and got up to reach them.

Everything happened so fast.

A well-placed strike followed by a choked gasp.

I froze.

Vernestra fell to her knees, impaled by that blue saber, hers rolling across the ground toward me.

My ears were ringing.

It was as if my mind had gone blank.

Maybe it was survival instinct, or perhaps the shock I was feeling, but I moved without thinking.

Using the Force, I summoned her purple saber to me and, activating the whip, snapped it forcefully at Qimir’s back.

His scream of pain twisted my insides.

The look of shock and hatred in his eyes as he turned, losing his balance. Before he could move, I instinctively pushed him hard, away from Vernestra’s body.

Maybe I pushed him too hard.

When he stumbled back, finding himself at the edge of the cliff, he couldn’t regain his balance. The ground beneath him gave way, and he fell, staring at me—maybe scared, maybe betrayed.

The silence that followed was chilling.

I rushed toward Vernestra, but it was too late. Her body lay on the ground, her eyes wide open, empty, and the smell of burnt flesh filled my senses.

I wanted to lean over the edge, to see if Qimir was still alive, driven by the survival instinct that, now that everything was over, finally allowed me to recognize the danger.

No.

I didn’t move.

I remained on my knees in the dirt, a dull ringing in my ears that kept me from thinking.

And the lifeless body of my master, whom I had failed to save.

[arceespinkgun]

I'm sorry for this since I do hate how overrated he is in general, but I really wanted to make a post getting out my love for Prowl in the TF UK comics. He is just so clearly the best, most definitive version of the character in my opinion! Somehow, so many of the funniest moments from this continuity are Prowl-related and many of his quotes live rent-free in my head?! From jumping on a missile, to yelling at Jetfire in one of the Christmas specials ("You almost break the world record... FOR STANDING STILL!"), to thinking Jazz saying something will be "a piece of cake" is literal, that one time he yelled "SHUT UP!!!" at the Autobots and Decepticons and then added a tiny "please" afterward...!

And in my opinion the funniest panel in all of the comics is a Prowl panel where he thinks Grimlock is dumb as a brick and imagines a literal brick!

IIRC Prowl's introduction to the comics showed him trying to suggest other options than suicide when the Ark gets attacked only for Optimus to immediately ignore him, which really sets the tone for that dynamic. I was pretty surprised to see that Optimus (and later Grimlock, who is generally hilariously awful) are incredibly unstable leaders and that in almost every case I took Prowl's side in his arguments with them...?

When I say "unstable," I really mean it

He isn't perfect, but he seemed to just want to the War to end and then stay ended from what I could tell. I kind of get the sense that a fandom in-joke about Prowl being a prick may have gotten overstated and led to Prowl actually being extremely obnoxious and immoral in things like IDW, since to me here he really came across more like a character who's justified in being irritated by how other people, normally his superiors, are acting because they're endangering others. Near the end of the comics, I really didn't like that Prowl was very much treated as being wrong for trying to get it through Grimlock's thick metal skull that Decepticons are people too? This isn't going to make sense for people who haven't read these issues, but to me it felt like Grimlock was shirking his duties as a leader and then setting Prowl up to fail to teach him a lesson the hard way, and it felt pretty cruel are overly edgy to me and not in-line with how Autobot and Decepticon dynamics were portrayed earlier. I know I'm biased, but I personally thought it was brave that Prowl stood up to Grimlock, the way Blaster had much earlier on.

Going into these comics, I was really expecting to see a precursor to IDW Prowl or something, and I feel like I was misled! This version of the character feels almost like what IDW Prowl thought he was like. In the final annual story of this continuity, when Optimus actually apologizes for brushing Prowl off and explains that he's just been struggling emotionally (there's even a moment where it says, "Prowl gaped. Not only was he getting an apology, he was also getting an explanation," which really shows what kind of character Prowl is) and Optimus then says it's an honor to work with Prowl, I think I said "awww" out loud!!! And I thought it was hilarious that Prowl was so moved that he imagined a lump in his throat LMAO

"There's a ship fuelled and ready to life off, the assault team and medical crew are aboard. Prowl, I would be… honoured if you would join us," said Prime." And with that he extended a hand for Prowl to shake. There was a frozen moment or two before Prowl grabbed the proffered hand, pumping it. So charged with emotion was the moment, Prowl actually imagined a lump in a throat that he didn't possess!

I also thought Prowl was just as badass as he was hilarious: I loved it when Galvatron targeted Autobots including Prowl for having "mental flaws" by trying to use those to brainwash them into serving him and then Prowl's response was to just attack him and be like, "You forgot that we Autobots REPRESS our feelings!!!" Prowl was one of only three Autobots who ended up alive in the AU story "Rhythms of Darkness!" And he also once went back in time and had to relive his own destruction in order to stop Megatron, who he knocked out with a punch to the face:

(It's Megatron possessing Snap Trap's body). This "Prime?!" "Nope—Prowl!" *punches him in the face* is such an iconic moment to me

Prowl also has a great backstory and was even a veteran before Optimus Prime was ever leader! You can read about that in my Jazz analysis post since they share a backstory. Prowl led a team who went around freeing Decepticon-controlled territories early in the War, and was one of the most dreaded Autobots! Not this is what I like—Prowl being a "terrorist" only in the eyes of the oppressors, not a civil terrorist in peacetime like in IDW! I think it's pretty likely that Prowl's type-A personality and intense sense of responsibility was probably informed a lot by his trauma on one of those early missions going so horribly wrong, since he seems to have behaved differently back then:

Prowl leaned over to Jazz. "Did we do okay?" he asked uncertainly, hoping Jazz wouldn't interpret this as weakness. As team leader, Prowl worried constantly that he would foul up, make some decision that would end up costing lives: theirs as well as others.

I think I'm not the only one who thinks sometimes having a favorite transformer who's really popular but it's only a couple of iterations that you're not interested in (nothing against TFA Prowl at all, I like him, I'm just very neutral on TFA the show), while almost nobody seems to know about the iteration you like and what you like about the character, can sometimes feel like a bit of a curse lol That's why I felt like sharing all of this!

[damiansgoodgirll]

I know this is so wrong on many levels, but would you please make something with punk cheating on her wife with reader? It can be smut and angsty at the same time, like they both are feeling really guilty but they can’t stop the sexual tension between them 🥵😭😩❤️🙏

AJ I LOVE YOU I PROMISE

cm punk x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

‼️ +18, smut, angst, toxic phil, mean phil, cheating, daddy issues (?)

nasty attraction

what you and phil were doing was wrong on so many levels. he had a wife waiting for him at home, a wife he loved. he promised her to love and protect her, to be always by her side and yet he every week, after raw, he was always in your bed.

it started as an accident. he felt so guilty after you slept together that he avoided for a month. when he realised that he couldn’t avoid you forever, he talked with you, explained that what happened was just a mistake and that he had no feelings for you, that he was deeply in love with his wife and that he needed time to make amend.

you were hurt. you knew that he didn’t have feelings for you but the harsh way he said it, almost as if it was your fault you had sex, it hurt you.

he promised he would have never happened again but he couldn’t keep it promise much as just a few weeks later he was the one dragging you into his hotel room.

he needed to let go some tension and he thought that you wouldn’t mind. of course you didn’t mind. you were probably too focused on your crush for the old man to think that he was only using you.

that mistake turned into more and more mistakes and you couldn’t deny the immense attraction that you had for him. he was older, hot, more experienced than you, rough and cold, married.

all the red flags were right in front of you but you were too blind to see them.

“one last time…this is our last time…” he whispered while one of his hand was working on your clit as the other kept your wrists clutched to the bed.

everytime, he swore that it was going to be the last time but every week the same routine occurred.

he was happily married. he loved his wife more than he could explain. but there was something that you had that made him crawl under your skin.

you were young, in your twenties. you were inexperienced so that lead him to be able to do everything he wanted with you and your body. he knew you had a crush on him, he wasn’t stupid. and he knew it was wrong to play with your feelings but he couldn’t help it. you were like a stress reliever for him, someone he would be rough and mean, someone he could release all the past tension he had.

“fuck…” you moaned, your voice soft while his calloused hands kept harshly stimulating your clit.

“uh uh…bad girls don’t get to cum…” he loved the game he was playing “turn around…ass up” he ordered. he expected you to obey as you always did but there was some hesitation this time “i gave you an order y/n…don’t make me punish you” this was a common routine. he would tease you, he would turn you around and fuck you and then he would leave.

“i don’t want to…” you confessed, opening your eyes.

“to do what?” he didn’t meant to be so mean with you. sometimes he forgot that you were a person just like him and that you had feelings. especially after the whole situation with drew mcintyre, he was more stressed than ever.

“this…” you didn’t want to sound so weak but something shifted between the two of you. he wasn’t always so mean. sure, he wasn’t a vanilla lover but there times where he would actually take his time with you and make you feel appreciated. none of this quick fuck excuses “the way you’ve been treating me for the past weeks…i don’t deserve this phil…i’m not your whore and even if you don’t see this thing the way i see it, you don’t have to treat me like im nothing…” you didn’t meet his eyes.

guilt flowing through his body.

you were right. he knew you were right. but he knew that if he showed even the slightest bit of emotion and kindness towards you, he knew it would be over for him. he didn’t love you, absolutely. he didn’t have a crush like you had. but he was attracted by you, there was like a magnet around you that kept pulling him towards you.

he took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. thinking about how your presence was so intoxicating for him.

“i know…and i’m sorry…” he apologised “i’m so fucking sorry…i shouldn’t have been so rude with you, i just…”

“you just?” you were curious.

“what we do…it’s so wrong, i know i shouldn’t do this, i have an amazing wife waiting for me at home…i love her more than anything but i can’t help being so fucking attracted to you, and i know that if i get affectionate with you everything will change and i don’t want that…” he looked at you while speaking and it seemed true to his words.

“we can stop if you want to…” you hoped he would say no.

“that‘s the fucking problem…i can’t stop, i can’t get enough of you, your body, the way you sounds so sweet everytime you cum on my dick…i can’t stop this” he whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“one last time?” you asked him, hoping that he would say yes.

“one last time…” and he swore that it was going to be the last time for you and him.

he gently laid you down on the bed and kissed upon your body, as if he wanted to apologize for being so mean with you. and for a second you believed him, you believed that his intentions were pure but you remembered that he was a married man, a man who loved his wife, a man who couldn’t give you the future you wanted and deserved and for that you will always resent him.

when he pushed inside of you, his movements were slow, calm. like he wanted to savour you one last time.

he moaned into your shoulder, trying to control himself. he wanted to own you, to show you who was in charge. he wanted to bend you over like he always did but tonight was different, he wanted to have you one last time.

“shit…phil…” you didn’t mean to sound so weak but he was hitting all of the right spots inside of you and you couldn’t keep your moans low. he knew your body so well, and he knew what pushed you on the edge.

“right there baby?” he smirked, taking a deep look into your face. your eyes were closed, trying to stop tears from falling.

“yes…” and that was all he needed to hear since he started moving a little faster, hitting your sweet spot.

“i wanna feel you coming around my dick…one last time…” there was a little of sadness, maybe resentment.

his lips left some kisses over your neck and collarbone, mixing with the pleasure he was already bringing you. this was a sweet phil, a side that you never saw. and you thought about how lucky was his wife to have him, to having him kiss her goodnight every single night, how lucky she was to have him in her arms and hold him every day. you wanted to be that girl and you knew that someday you would get your chance to be loved, just that it wouldn’t be phil to love you like that.

a tear rolled down your eye, both from sadness and pleasure, he was easily bringing you over the edge “phil…i’m so close…” you moaned as your hands moved to mark his back. you didn’t mean to but if that was your last time together, you needed to have him as close as possible so you brought him closer to you. your chest meeting with tattooed one.

he sped a little more, you could hear the cracks from the bed, wondering if your hotel neighbours were hearing those too.

“come for me baby…” he whispered against your skin. those words making you clench hard around his dick that released inside of you. with a deep growl phil came, spilling inside of you. your legs still shaking a bit from the stimulation.

you both looked at each other, speechless. you hoped he would say something first but nothing came out of his mouth.

“our last time uh?” you tried to laugh, but deep down all you wanted to do was cry.

he chuckled, trying to ease the tension “yeah…our last time…i should probably go back to my bedroom” he whispered.

“you should” you didn’t want to hear more words coming out his mouth. you wanted to be left alone and never see him again.

he quickly stood up and he dressed himself. he took one look at you before leaving the room.

you stayed there, watching the ceiling and let all those tears fall.

“she’s so lucky…” you whispered, knowing that you’ll never have him.

[dearweirdme]

“It has nothing to do with this being trips he took with Jm. It has everything to do with this having been work and the way I saw Jk on the show.”

Again, those were Jk’s experiences. The trips were work yes but you don’t know that they felt like work to him do you? I am a hairstylist by profession, that is my Job, my work but I could do 10 clients hair on the same day and it wouldn’t feel like work to me because I love doing it so you cannot speak on people’s experiences based on the ones you believe are work and not work because you don’t know how they feel about that “work”. You also talk about the way you saw Jk in the show but that is subjective and the way you think you saw him could just be a matter of you not knowing him as much as you think you do or you just reading him wrong. Take Tae for example, many people read him so wrong because they assume that his blank face is him being mad or being bitchy or being rude when mostly he is just zoned out or has his resting face on. An anon just mentioned a few asks down how many people don’t understand that just has a blank face sometimes which doesn’t mean he is mad. Imagine someone coming to tell you that Tae is rude or bitchy or arrogant because of how they see his face. See how it sounds right?

You’ve never seen what Jk is like on an actual private vacation or trip, you don’t know how he looks, what his moods are or none of that so how do you compare? This is a matter of perspective and you could be looking at things in a completely different way than Jk is. To you it was work and must have felt like work so you don’t see how Jk could place something like that at the top of his list but to Jk, maybe it was work that didn’t feel like work, maybe it was a chance to get away from his actual work which was physically and mentally exhausting and just whine down. Maybe he enjoyed the chaos, the ups and downs and how unpredictable things were. Maybe on all or most of his other trips he had always known what to expect but maybe in these ones it was the unexpected things that made things fun. Maybe it was him getting to do a bunch of things he liked to do on the trips almost all at once, or maybe it was how the places and people made him feel in those moments so I don’t think you can measure where people rank their trips depending on if it was work or not or how you think they looked during the trips for the simple fact that your perspective of things could have been very different from Jk’s. What you saw as him being overworked, he probably saw as freedom or a chance to get away as he said, what you saw as him being disinterested or tired or angry was probably him just probably sitting there and not thinking of much.

Someone mentioned in the comments that they believe Jk lied because they have eyes. What of those who have eyes and ears and saw those moments in the solo where Jk seemed dismissive of Tae? Are they correct to assume Jk hates Tae because he refused to sing “LMA” a second time on Live when he was asked to? Would you say he hates Tae because Jk publicly supported Jm than Tae? Would you say he hates Tae because he doesn’t talk much about his hangouts with Tae while Tae does? Those are things Jk did, people saw and assumed that he didn’t like Tae and wouldn’t speak about their hangouts like Tae did because he didn’t care for them. Would you agree with them because they have eyes and that is what they saw? You see the issue with this line of thought?

Yeah well, welcome to Tumblr anon, the place where everyone goes on and on about their interpretation of things. You’ve heard my thoughts, I’ve heard yours.. I find it a bit odd that you go so strongly about a mere nuance (the nuance being that I think Jk had a good time, but not the best time). We’re not going to agree. I could easily go into to everything you mentioned, but I’m tired and sick and just can’t be bothered right now.

[kerryweaverlesbian]

Saint of the Smallest Sun

The first time Ambriel came to earth, it was new, and fresh, and innocent. The lesser angels were taken on a tour in proto-humanoid-vessels, before the real humans were awoken. Ambriel had stepped into a pile of rotting fruit with her vessel's bare foot, and decided not to come again if she could help it.

The second time she came to earth, it had had an extra 4.5 billion years in which to rot, and she was forced there. One moment, she was processing information through the incorporeal fibers of her wings, and the next she was bound to a 5 foot circle of space in a human form wearing a pantsuit. She looked from the ring of holy fire surrounding her to the room it was set in; a crumpled bed with a stretched out photograph as  the duvet pattern, a series of posters depicting scenes from the Winchester Gospels, a chunky computer monitor showing a forum comment page, and a young woman kneeling amongst a flurry of papers with a mortar and pestle beside her, the crackle of after-magic still hovering over it. The woman was staring at her, eyes and mouth agape, like one of the fish that the archangel Gabriel kept brandishing at anyone close to him on that first day on earth. Ambriel had only seen it from a distance, but the image had remained in her mind, as everything she learned remained.

Ambriel touched her own cheek gently, and then pinched it hard between her fingers. She winced. This wasn't a vessel. This temporary form must have been crafted by the spell, which suggested that the person who brought her here was either a powerful spellcaster or had an abnormally strong sense of will. She glanced skeptically back at the kneeling woman, who had brought up both hands to cover her mouth and was still just staring at her. Maybe there was a third option.

"Can you let me go?" She tried, careful to speak with her new vocal chords instead of her true voice. It scratched a little, but seemed serviceable. "I have like, a lot to do."

"Mmnnhn," the human said, muffled by her own hands, and then she started and dropped them: "I mean. Michael. Wow! I was expecting - I mean, just based on all the other characters, I thought you'd be, you know, a guy. Not that there's anything wrong with girls - I - I was such a big fan of Jo! You know, after it was clear she wasn't going to be a threat to the brother's relationship. I just think it gets in the way, sometimes, like, the story is about men, why do girls even need to be involved, you know? But I am a feminist! So, yeah, I- I love that you're a woman that's - that's great."

Ambriel squinted at her, deeply confused. What is she talking about? This seemed to fluster the woman, who finally blinked, and rapidly.

"Oh, god. Don't ramble Becky. Be normal. Be normal, Becky. Okay! So..."

The woman - Becky, presumably - lowers her forehead to the floor and links her fingers in front of her in a prayer pose. Her voice trembles when she speaks again:

"Dear...you. I know I'm not important to the story. And I know it's not fated or plotted or anything. But I thought...I have to try, right? That's what Sam would do. Trying against impossible odds is what Supernatural is all about. So, I'm here on behalf of humanity to beg for our lives. Please. Don't do the Apocalypse. It'd be really bad if you did the Apocalypse. Chuck's not the most descriptive writer, but from what I've seen of his notes...yikes. And it's already pretty bad now, just with Lucifer walking the Earth. Just, grab him and duke it out on Mars, or something, if you really have to fight. Please, please, just leave the Earth alone."

"You want me to...cancel the Apocalypse?" Ambriel asked, and Becky desperately nodded. "Oh, I can't do that. So, can you let me out now, or...?"

Read my Becky/Ambriel fic, Saint of the Smallest Sun, on ao3 for more!

[bloopitynoot]

Reading SVSSS: Chapter 13

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

I'm here! Finally posting yesterday's read.

Last night I was watching critical role and making flower crowns for the ren faire today and I totally lost track of time. But I did read earlier and I have the notes!

Anyways; no tea- I slammed this coke zero. The flower crowns ended up being real cute though.

Here we go; last chapter of book 2!

I'm already nervous :( this chapter is titled coercion. Coercion of who?

Well. Shen Qingqiu arrives and the mountain is already under siege- solid start. p283

This is less a reflection on this current chapter and more a thought about the longevity of this character; but I feel like Luo Binghe is going to inevitably perish. The reckless abandon in which he approaches anything Shizun adjacent is going to end this man. Like in this chapter- fully just tells everyone he's of demonic heritage- 0 fucks, no care for his own life now or in the future. Sure, he's powerful as hell but like eventually he has to sleep. p284

Oh gosh. Both Yue Qingyuan and Liu Qingge are in a bad way AND they are in the same room as Luo Binghe. p285

Okay but to be fair, when it comes to the body of Shen Qingqiu I am on the side of the sect here. Like bare minimum even if this man supposedly committed all the crimes (he didnt and they do know this) he still deserves to have proper death rites. Luo Binghe did do some unhinged things. pp 286-287

RIP Shang Qinghua LOL everyone knows you are an opportunist with nary a loyal bone in your body. Congrats on your entire sect knowing now p288

OOP. the audacity of Luo Binghe to Liu Qingge "ah! The loser I defeated" I mean not wrong but you dont have to be a dick about it. p289 Luo Binghe is so cocky!

and here we have SQQ inserting himself into mortally dangerous situations that he could have walked away from. The self sacrificing he has been doing this entire book (intentional or not) is so wild. This man cannot do anything in a stealthy way- everything dramatic and loud and at the centre of attention. p290

WAIT! "caught you shizun" p290 He did know! I had a suspicion!

What did you expect SQQ ofc he meant to draw you out. He could have tracked you but he lost the ability to do so with the other demon. p293

as an aside I am now wondering how this is going to work out. The Zhuzhi-Lang can also torture and track him at a distance- this is going to be a later problem for SQQ and Luo Binghe no doubt

oh poor buddy "you're not a fool...I am" p293

ooooooo. "didn't my sweetness make shizun oh-so happy?" p294. that's not even it oh no so much emotional damage

Also Shang Qinghua exposed again with the mushroom info p294

I am on SQQ's side with this one. How can the sect be mad about him not going there right away when he was kind of underground and also had to relearn how to move his own body p295

I am annoyed at Liu Qingge and I think, maybe, unjustifiably. I feel like his character is complicated and eventually I want to read a character study or two about him for more insight. What prompted this is: he is both acknowledging that SQQ is doing something utterly selfless for the sect but also pissed that he's doing it at all. Like- is it him feeling inadequate? Or is it how he feels about SQQ or the sect? idk- I will continue to think about him. p297

Luo Binghe was not satisfied with mushroom-zun he also wants the original body?? p299

RIP all of SQQ's dignity and his mental health "I've already submitted to you" p299 his word choice though LOL

His body is missing?!?!?!?!?!? p300

what a cliffhanger! Now I need to know who stole his corpse! If it ends up being 2 SQQ's OR that Luo Binghe's dad is using SQQ's original body I am done done LOL.

We finished book 2!

Thank you to those who have been reading along- this has truly been so fun! I appreciate all the comments and clarifications; they have been helpful and have been making this reading process super engaging. Getting to chat about the thing I am enjoying with others who also love The Thing has been a solid highlight of my days!