#I don’t think I’ve ever been so real on my blog before

[emeraldbabygirl]

BIG TW

Sometimes I go, so I deleted the twitter app so I wouldn’t get notifications and wouldn’t be tempted to go into the app and see things I didn’t want to see on Moonbin and I’ve been trying to avoiding going on insta cause a lot of his friends are posting goodbye messages and things and it just is really hard to see so I thought YouTube was okay but I keep scrolling down too far and see something I wish I hadn’t. So if you do my want to read this scroll past it cause I just want to get it out but I don’t want to bother any of my friends who might be sleeping with this and O just don’t want to bring up Moonbin with them cause it’s really hard to talk about him still tbh I’m trying to block him out cause every time I think about him or see a fun lil silly video on him I get sad all over again like I cannot imagine losing someone so close to you. I’ve lost a lot of pets and my step grandpa passed awhile ago but I wasn’t really upset about it and the pets I don’t think can compare to losing a brother, a son, a friend bit anyway … last week I think idk idk how long it was I saw some video about the manager or someone who found Moonbin and I made a post I think talking about how the thumbnail really bothered me and it’s still burned in my brain I wish I could get rid of it but then I saw comments that were speculation that Moonbin died of a heart attack and that, despite it being still bad it made me feel a little better that it was a physical health problem and not a mental health one but then as far as the way everyone is talking about him and the letters the members wrote it seems like maybe it was him taking his own life and it’s so crazy how some people can really be strong enough to do that whatever method the use cause geez there’s so many and each one is horrible but some just seem so much more heartbreaking and hard to understand how and why someone would do that. Then there was the Blitzers thumbnail for the new mv that bothered me and I wish wuzo would change it especially since it came out like a day or two after Moonbin passed and now I see some video talking about his autopsy and just seeing and hearing about Moonbin and autopsy in the same fucking sentence doesn’t sit with me it doesn’t feel right it still I still can’t believe he’s gone and every time I read anything at all about him leaving I wish it was a dream cause it’s just not fair. It’s not fair that he had to leave so soon and it’s not fair that sua will never see him again and it’s not fair that his parents and family and friends will never see him again. It said in the thumbnail “he didn’t want to go” but what does that mean? That’s makes it sound like he didn’t want to go like to the store or to the whatever who words something like that if someone kills themself? They didn’t want to go where?

I haven’t cried as much as I was the last time was Tuesday cause I saw the pictures of all the nesquick chocy milk path in front of the building and tonight but I just keep seeing that lil face of his, he’s half moon eyes and his lil smile and every time I look at the moon at work I just think of him and become delusional thinking he went to the moon like people used to say. But when I see his lil face I can’t imagine being a parent and losing a child and seeing them, I can’t imagine his parents and poor sua his little sister seeing that face with no color and just a lifeless body in a casket and having to say goodbye to him and hearing and seeing news articles or reporters trying to invade your privacy and making things worse and not letting your family have some sort of peace so they can grieve without being constantly reminded that your child is gone and I just can’t understand why people just want to end everything and I don’t understand how anyone could have the guts to do something like that. Like maybe if you were doing something that was fast and easy and painless but what if Moonbin was in pain and crying and screaming for help in his last hours and no one was there for him. He was all alone and I don’t understand why. I can’t stop thinking about how he was alone, if though he had so many friends and everyone loved and appreciated him and other idols looked up to him but he was alone he still felt alone and idek how he felt cause I’m not him but what if he regretted it after like what happens if someone say they take pills so them can just fall asleep what happens if they’re alone and they start to panic and regret what they did and they can’t get help cause they’re all alone and they’re scared and their mind is racing or or they really just completely calm and content with leaving and not saying goodbye to anyone. Maybe that’s why the Oneus mv set me off like they’re so calm and stuff until the very last moments where they realize what’s happening and they can’t stop it. I wonder if some people think that or if they are just emotionless and ready to leave everything behind not knowing if there is an afterlife or anything like that.

And I know so many people have said that Moonbin would want us to be happy and remember the happy memories and share happy things and things like that and yeah that’s a lot better than bawling your eyes out everyday and wishing for things that can’t happen but it’s not easy to only think of happy times and stuff after losing a loved one. I have laughed and smiled and stuff after Moonbin left but I’m still being reminded that he’s not around and that’s not something I want to think about. I can’t even bring myself to fully accept even typing that he’s the ‘d’ word cause I don’t want to it feels wrong to say it. Saying that he left to another world and he’s “in a better place” sounds nicer than saying he passed. I remember when I saw the article and it said something along the lines of “fantagio entertainment confirms moonbin’s passing” and at first I was literally “passing of what?” And then the comments made me realize he died and then I went to the group chat and literally asked if it was a joke. I remember when Jonghyun died and I didn’t react until weeks later, like maybe you stop breathing for a bit or you just freeze cause you’re so shocked and you do my know how to react, how does anyone react to that. Imagine his family and group members reacting, I mean Eunwoo was over here in the states for Coachella having fun imagine the emotional shock of having fun and being happy to getting hit with the news that your fellow group member and friend is dead. And his parents and sua like how do you even react to that? Like some people maybe don’t react at all cause they just don’t believe it and then you start to realize that it’s actually real and you can’t understand and don’t want to believe it. I wonder if they tried to call him or tried to reach him thinking he’d pick up. I can’t imagine if I tried to call my brother or if I came home one day and he was not alive because what do you do in that situation? It seems like it would be easier to understand the concept of someone having a heart attack or they got killed than them killing themselves. It’s so hard cause I’ve gotten mad at my brother sometimes if he says anything about wanting to kill himself and I’ve just been so upset with him that I wonder if sua just feels upset and is maybe even mad at Moonbin. It not what, I mean you shouldn’t be mad at someone if they don’t want to live you should just be gentle and let them know that you’re there for them but sometimes I have gotten so mad at my brother sometimes because I just think he’s so selfish and stupid for wanting to kill himself and it makes me so mad and Idk how I would act if he ever did that and it’s not fair cause people will mental illness and depression they suffer and life is hard enough as it is but having that on top of everything else is no walk in the park and if they’re suffering everyday and just can’t take it anymore you shouldn’t be mad at them but it’s so hard not to be if you think they just gave up and then that doesn’t help you feel better it just makes everything worse.

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒 ❞

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!journalist reader

summary: a lil joke thing i wanted to write because homeboy is bringing home the big bucks 🤭

warnings: just read 🫵🏽 this is a crack fic lol

saint’s team radio 🎀: don’t take this all too seriously 😭 hope y’all enjoy plus who know i’ll actually make it into a thing 🧍🏽‍♀️

tags: @alika-4466 @purplelewlew @exotic-iris13 @arshiyuh @mauvecherie-writes @yeea-nah @youre-sooooo-funny @louvrepool @queenshikongo3 @cherry2stems @httpsserene @motheroffae

-

Being an independent journalist in this sport wasn’t easy at all but only within the parameters of any paddock around the world as most journalists rarely agreed with you, being neutral about anything in f1 wasn’t your thing.

Speaking your mind as the race went on was what set you apart from the rest, along with your humour and your honesty towards drivers and team principals. Not to mention you were extremely biased, keeping your liking to three to five drivers but only one occupied your mind every time you think about him.

I think you know who I’m talking about.

Your support for Lewis goes back to 2015, discovering the sport and immediately wanting to put your journalism skills to the test, aiming for the f1 paddock to at least catch a glimpse of the most talked about driver. Quickly building up a blog and several other social media accounts, you got to telling the world your thoughts and feelings for every race and your supporters rooted for you to achieve your goal.

Having the opportunity to attend thee race in 2020 as a guest of F1, you arrived at the Turkish Grand Prix with your head held high and a dress so gorgeous that it sparked rumours between you and the driver you were writing about. Not to mention the hug he gave you when you first met in the Mercedes garage, praising and thanking you for the support over the years. He’s been watching you and your work. That made your heart so warm.

Then he won his 7th world championship, breaking all records and that day, he deemed you his lucky charm.

And since then, it’s been a work wife-work husband friendship between you two. Fans constantly shipping you too, the clips of your shared interviews at the media pen of the intense eye contact and even off-track sightings once in a while such as a quick lunch.

yourusername • 13 mins ago

The atmosphere in Australia was unlike anything you’ve ever seen in your career, the paddock was practically painted red, Ferrari red to be specific. Everyone eager for Lewis to arrive as his first season as a driver for the legendary team.

Deciding to subtly support him and his new team, you rocked maroon everything, not yet ready to fully embrace the extreme bright red. It just might be your new favourite colour, from your hair right down to the tips of your high heeled boots.

Whilst setting your camera equipment up (gracefully given to you by Ferrari themselves), you couldn’t help but reminisce back to the year before of when he told you he was leaving Mercedes, a single facetime call in the nighttime.

“You made me pause the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, this better be good.” You said, placing the popcorn bowl down on your coffee table. Giving him squinted eyes, he just smiled at you.

“Are you alone right now?” He asked and that set aback for a bit. “You tryna do something funny, Lewis? Because you’re in Monaco right now and I’m at my house.” You raised your eyebrow at him, hiding how nervous you were to even suggest that to him but thankfully, he took it as a joke.

“No no, I’ve got some big news and I wanted to tell you before it gets out.” He replied, seeing how you stood up and placed your phone on your kitchen counter to prepare for this. “Okay, I’m ready. What’s up?” You clasped your hands together, not prepared to hear what came out of his mouth next.

“I’m moving to Ferrari next year.”

“You’re lying.” And all he did was smile as he saw your face drop at this news. He shook his head and that woke you to run around your apartment screaming. Running back to your phone, he was still there but just laughing his lungs out.

“Give me the details right now or else I’ll fly there. I’m not playing, Lew.”

A small smile was plastered on your face as you racked through the memories of that night and till that day, you still couldn’t believe it even though it was right in front of you. The media pen became louder and louder as you continued to mic yourself up along with connecting the mic to the camera and you immediately knew who caused the stir.

He already had such an aura surrounding him so much so that you could feel him whenever he entered the room. You were aware he arrived earlier and most likely changed but seeing the official team shirt on him was odd but fitting.

Lewis had a simple routine whenever he got to the media pen: everyone else then you because his time with you could be lengthened and he was so damn grateful that it was a Thursday because it meant even more time just walking around the paddock pretending it’s an interview when really, you guys were just spending time together.

After all the drivers had their interviews with you, laughing as they walked away because of some joke you told or happy that you asked different questions than everyone else. The man of the hour strolled over to your section with a look in his eye that gave you a shiver down your spine.

“Do not give me that look, Lewis. It’s weird seeing you in that shirt.” You said as he leaned against the barricade, maintaining eye contact with you. “I’m just taking in the red on you, it’s your colour.” He smirked at the reaction from you, the slight shock from the tone of his voice.

There was always a tad bit of tension between the two of you, feeling that twinge of a spark whenever he merely touched you. As you worked with over the years, you wanted your crush on him to diminish because that would just be unprofessional but he did not seem to care. At all. Often being spotted at various places together that he claimed were just two friends hanging out but just one look from him could have you in the clouds of days.

“Uh..huh. Wanna get these questions done or you wanna keep staring?” You asked with sass, watching him tilt his head a little and maintaining eye contact. “We can go right ahead, Y/n.” Lewis replied and you knew this was going to be a long interview.

Several questions later with a bunch of tension that you were sure the viewers would catch, you discreetly turned the camera to ask one of your infamous unserious questions that you did with every driver and you were sure this one were to get a laugh out of Lewis.

Holding the little card in front of you, you grinned with your left eye closing slightly more than the other. “It’s one of my favourite parts of any interview, unserious question time.” You said. “How unserious are we speaking here?” He asked with the slightest grin on his face just admiring you do your job.

“Only if you promise to answer it.” You said, holding out your manicured pinkie finger and Lewis hooked his with yours, solidifying the promise. “Okay okay, the whole world was shocked on how much Ferrari wanted you so much so that they literally doubled your salary.” You started.

“It’s now sitting at a hundred million a year. My question to you is who you gonna share it with and will it be me?”

“If you’re being serious, then it can be you.” He smiled and in that moment, your stomach dropped.

“Carl Davidson, I’m not playing around. Are you being for real?” You asked, lowering your voice so that no one could hear a thing.

He leaned in a bit more to whisper his next answer. “As real as you meeting me later on for dinner.” Lewis faced you then winked, walking away with your face still in shock. After standing there for what felt like forever, you felt your phone vibrate with a text from the man himself.

lew <3

you look gorgeous in red btw

-

yourusername

liked by theestallion, f1wags and 43,747 others

yourusername “anything you want, princess” — lewis hamilton.

view comments

user give me your game card

user you’re eating the red wig DOWN

spinzbeatsinc oh for him to buy me a g wagon

yourusername you already have one???

user you gold digging bitch

user no ways 😭

user not you using him for his money

user think about it, what is he gonna do with so much??

fan she got the chance and she took it, i gotta respect it

user i hope this is a hard launch because i’ve been shipping these two for YEARS

user me too!!

lewishamilton just say the word 🫡

yourusername 🤭🤭🤭🤭

saint’s team radio (again) 🎀: hope you all enjoyed! again, this is like a crack fic lol. there’s so many stories that’ll be released soon i’m excited 🥹 okay bye!

[foreverdolly]

this is a self pitying post and i’ll probably delete it later- but when i’m sad i tend to write it out. i’ve used this blog like a diary of sorts for the last two and a half years. i’ve developed a relationship with a lot of you on here and i appreciate all the love i’ve received so far on my last post. my friends that i have in real life, no matter how long i’ve known them, don’t know too much about my upbringing or my parents. i hate the idea of trauma dumping- it’s uncomfortable for other people: so don’t read this if you don’t want to. i wouldn’t blame you.

my dad died from cirrhosis due to alcoholism. he died miserable and alone. he had no friends. his family was sick of him. i tried to call him as often as i could but sometimes he could be mean if he was drunk. i knew not to call him after 11:00 in the afternoon because he would start to drink. he lived in his youngest brother’s basement and almost never came upstairs because he was embarrassed. i haven’t seen him in three years because he lives fourteen hours from me, but i tried my hardest to call him every week and keep him involved in my life. he never saw any of my homes, never met any of my friends, and never even saw me drive a car (i’ve been licensed since i was eighteen). i cried to him almost every week, begging him to get sober.

he never recovered from my parent’s divorce, and for that i feel so sorry. he called my mother his soulmate and always spoke in past tense- talking about when me and my brother were little. he would tear up when talking about the first time he ever saw me in the hospital after my mother gave birth, and he was vocal about the fact that i was his favorite. we shared a lot of the the same interests and always had fun when talking.

when my mom made a suicide attempt two years ago he was there for me almost everyday, calling me despite the demons he was battling with himself.

the last time i spoke to him was thursday- a week from the day he died. he told me that he almost called a treatment facility but he got tired and took a nap instead. his doctors appointment was today at one and he was going to ask to be admitted and then go to a rehab facility. i told him i’d send him money while he was in there- he hasn’t been able to hold a job since i was still in high school.

my dad was a chef. a damn good cook- classically trained in french cooking. he had the loudest laugh i’ve ever heard, so much so that it used to make me cry when i was a baby. we used to wear matching costumes and he’d sign me out from school on halloween and call me out the day after. he took me to my first concert, but he couldn’t afford both the gas and the tickets (so i paid for the gas with my pocket change at the age of thirteen). he wore adidas strictly- shell toe was his favorite.

when i was little my dad was on night duty while my mom was away: tucking us in, reading us books. he refused to read to me and walked out the door but not before saying “bed bugs and stuff”. i thought it was so funny. it became our saying. every night we spent with each other we said “bed bugs and stuff”. so that was my last send off to him. i hope he’s finally resting well and isn’t depressed, ashamed or lonely anymore where he is.

he died in his sleep. they found a solo cup filled with vodka next to his bed and i can’t stop thinking about the fact that he was going to get help today. he was yellow due to jaundice. what a cruel world.

[actiniumwrites]

𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇

synopsis: in which you find out the truth about lyney’s identity

characters: lyney x gn!reader

wc: 695

warnings: pure angst, established relationships, breakups, reader has a past with the fatui, mentions of physical harm and death, major spoilers for the 4.0 archon quest

notes: i am officially in writers block and want to die because of it. also, i know this idea is a little old since the quest came out a few weeks ago, but i still wanted to write something about his identity. also, yes, i would forgive lyney, but this blog has not seen pure angst in awhile so…🙂

“You were never going to tell me, were you?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you finally break the silence. Your arms are crossed as you lean back against one of the brick walls of the Opera Epiclese. Lyney stands approximately three feet away from you.

He’s silent, unable to answer the burning question. It’s been on your mind all night ever since Furina had so proudly announced it to all of the court. Lyney was a part of the House of the Hearth. Part of the Fatui.

“I can’t lie to you,” he carefully picks his words, terrified of further upsetting you.

Cutting him off, you scoff and turn away from him further than you already had, “What? Like you haven’t been lying to me this entire time? Real funny.”

Lyney takes a single step closer to you.

You take one back.

“Please, I wasn’t lying to you. I just left out some parts of the truth, that’s all, I swear!”

“You are part of the Fatui, Lyney. The Fatui! How can I trust you when you’re part of an organization who hurts people, kills people, even,” you frown. Not a single part of you isn’t affected by the hurt you feel. He hears the way your voice is beginning to break too, like the truth of it all is finally beginning to set in.

His hands come together as he pleads, “I promise I’ve never hurt anyone, not ever! Not everyone and everything in the Fatui is evil.”

For the first time tonight, you turn toward him and look him in the eyes. Your arms become uncrossed as you feel anger fuel your every action, every thought, every feeling. Walking toward him step by step, you hold out a finger, digging it into his chest as you speak, “You don’t get to pick and choose when you’re a part of something dangerous, Lyney! I don’t care if you aren’t the one doing the killing or the hurting, you still help them. What about all those people I told you about? My friends and family who got hurt by the Fatui? Did that mean nothing to you?”

He watches as tears form in your eyes at the mention of them. Of course he remembered, how could he not? The day you confided in him about your past and all the misfortune that you were dealt by the Fatui was eternally engraved in his mind. The organization who had taken so much from you that you swore you would find a way to end it one day, even if it meant dying. You had laid everything out to him and the entire time he was on their side.

You take two more steps back from him, voice shaking as cave in on yourself, “No wonder you were so quiet that day. God, and here I was thinking you actually cared.”

“Please don’t say that,” he whispers, tempted to reach a hand out to you, but not willing to scare you off. For all he knows, this could be the last time he ever sees you, “I care about you so much it hurts me. I really was horrified by the things you told me, I promise you that. Understand that I’ve only ever been talking to you as just Lyney. Your Lyney.”

It takes everything in you not to run into his arms and forget all of this is even happening. Give into his pleading words and return to who you thought was the only person who had ever really loved you. You want to pinch your arm to wake yourself up from the cruel nightmare, but somewhere deep inside, part of you has already accepted the truth and the fact that there is no universe in which you could accept his true identity. And so you take one final look at him before you take your final step, allowing the tears to fall from your eyes as you bid him a permanent farewell.

Lyney would never forget the final words you spoke to him. Four words that managed to break both your hearts more than the truth had.

“You’re not my Lyney.”

[upsidedownwithsteve]

A message.

I’d like to start by saying once more (due to it being the cause of so many hateful messages) that I support Palestine.

I donate to charities that fund several of the organisations that help and I use my business in the best way I can to give my services for free to fundraisers that also raise money for these causes. Shy of showing you my personal bank statements and private emails between myself and my clients, I don’t have any ways of showing this on tumblr.

I have several social media platforms, I have a business that I run, I have friends and family I talk to, I have an entire life off of this website. I choose to use tumblr to post my writing and for the most part, it’s become a really important space for me. Writing is one of the few things I truly do for myself. I enjoy it immensely and it can really bring me a lot of peace.

I choose not to blog anything other my writing, other people’s writing and general fandom related things on my blog because I like to keep it as that small space for myself and one of the things I love most. I understand wholly that that is a privilege in itself and I will not shy away from that fact.

However, I will not condone being hunted for the choices I make. For the vast majority of you, I am a stranger online and no one, absolutely no one, knows what I do off of this website. I won’t allow anyone to judge me on what they don’t see and don’t understand.

The size of my following was not a choice I made, it was not something I deliberately aimed for and it was not something I tried hard to make sure I achieved. It wasn’t the goal of this blog. I don’t deem myself capable of “influencing” anyone in anyway. I’m a fanfiction writer. I’m not a politician, I don’t claim to be the most educated person on political and worldwide matters. I simply would like to believe that everyone tries to help in anyway they can. I know not everyone has the financial means to donate and instead they choose to raise awareness in other ways - that’s absolutely okay.

But I - and others - do not have to follow the rule book someone else deemed law. You see, I gave my views and reasons and it wasn’t good enough. And now, if I chose to reblog certain things, I’m pretty sure I’d be dragged for being performative, or “back tracking.” I fear that with some people, who like to hide behind an anonymous button, I cannot win. Despite an argument revolving around real life issues, I think I can safely say it came across as a very personal attack.

As other people have mentioned before, I also don’t enjoy the idea of writing smut and happy ever after’s about our favourite fictional men and then reblogging the death of others in real life straight after. I know that’s the world right now. I’m aware. I read articles, I watch the news, I follow accounts on Twitter, on Instagram and I try and keep myself as up to date and as educated as possible. I just don’t show that on this one platform.

As many of you know, I do run my own business. I’m also five months pregnant. I’m definitely experiencing more stress than I usually do. I’m very happy and enjoying my pregnancy immensely but I struggled with sickness and tiredness for the majority of it so far. Whats to come in the next four months and beyond fills me with excitement and anxiety and nerves. Coming onto tumblr and writing about fiction is a little reprieve from that - again, a privilege I am so aware of.

But I won’t be tolerating any more hateful messages, I won’t be arguing with anyone. I’m not lowering myself to it. You can talk about me passively aggressively, you can choose to hate me, that’s fine. I’m happy blocking people and moving on. Anons will be off indefinitely, it’s been proven that too many people are willing to hide behind them. After the messages regarding myself and my unborn child, quite frankly, there’s not a lot of trust left when it comes to knowing how far people will sink.

I’ve said all I’d like to say on the matter, I’ve told people where I stand, my views on the genocide that is occurring, what I’m able to do about it in my personal life and why I choose to keep this particular space the way I do.

I hope everyone can try to understand and respect that. If you don’t, that’s fine, that’s your prerogative. I don’t go out of my way to challenge, or police, or demand things from people I do not know. I hope that no one thinks that they have the right to do that to myself and others. I’m under no obligation to follow someone else’s rules.

I don’t know what the future holds for this blog, pregnancy and real life is very much taking priority over writing at the moment, but I do like to try when I can. I can’t lie either, the messages and their content that I received really left me feeling dejected and frustrated, this fandom really has turned into something rather poisonous. I’d like to be able to rise above it and in the mean time, even if I’m not always present, I’d like people to be able to access the stories I worked really hard on.

Thank you for reading,

Emmy 🧡

[inhuman-obey-me]

Hello! Congratulations of 4000+ followers! Y'all do amazing writing, and its been really cool to see the blog grow overtime

For the event, may I request⚡️with Diavolo and yes on MC! Thank you so much, and I hope y'all have a good day

Thank you so much!! ;//u//; And also thank you for sticking around for so long -- it really does mean a lot! 💕

"What good is this "great power" of mine? Absolutely everything slips through my fingers." - Diavolo/MC

You hadn’t asked for this power. 

No, it was something that had been thrust into your hands, into your very being as the trajectory of your life changed the instant you opened your eyes and found your gaze held by pools of gold in an unknown and dangerous world. It was that one moment that began the unraveling, the revealing of all that you were and to be. 

It seems like such a distant memory now, that first day in the Devildom. 

No, you hadn’t asked for this power, but you didn’t refute it either. You had welcomed it, reveled in it. You had been plunged into a world of magic and monsters, angels and demons, witches and sorcerers – and you, a mere human who had been oblivious to the very real existence of this world in the shadows, were considered to be one of the most powerful mortals among it. 

And yet, as of late, you had been feeling absolutely powerless.

“Love, you’ve barely touched your food.” Diavolo’s gentle voice brings you out of your thoughts, and you look up now to meet those same golden eyes you first held all those years ago. His gaze flickers to your hand, where you’ve been fidgeting with the Ring of Light. The one thing stopping your very existence from ending the world as you knew it.

“Sorry,” You give him an apologetic smile as you lift your fork, letting it slowly sink into one of the vegetables on your plate. “I guess I just have a lot on my mind.” 

“Care to share?” He’s worried. “You know you can tell me anything.” 

“I know.” A sigh, and you set your fork down as you lean back in your chair. You try to find the words, your emotions half-formed on your tongue. “It’s just…with everything going on, I feel rather…useless.” 

“Useless? You?” Diavolo nearly scoffs, leaning forward in bewilderment. “What makes you think that? Surely, we’ve all told you how you’ve done so much for us, for the Three Realms.” 

“Have I, though?” You feel your throat begin to tighten, so you try to force your feelings down. “Everyone says that, and sure, to some extent I’ve played my part. But,” Your fingers tighten around the napkin in your lap. “You all have helped each other. I’ve just been a conduit, and sometimes I…I’ve been more of a problem to solve than a solution.” 

“That’s not true–”

“But it is!” 

Your voice cracks then, and you realize you can’t keep down the swirl of doubt and agony any longer. Before you even feel the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, you find Diavolo now right beside you, holding your hands in his. 

“My love, you hold more power than you can even begin to imagine.”

“And what of it!” You hastily remove your hands from his grasp, waving to the air around you. “What good is this ‘great power’ of mine?” The tears have escaped, and there’s a pang in your chest. “Absolutely everything slips through my fingers. I’ve barely begun to understand it and…and I don’t even know if I could save the very ones I care about from those that wish them harm.” Your eyes flicker to the ceiling, and you try to blink back the salt that hasn’t already slid down your cheeks. “I’ve come closer to destroying everything with it!” 

The silence that follows your outburst is heavy. Diavolo examines your visage with a somber expression, his lips that so often are curved into a grin now taut and straight. It feels like ages before he finally speaks. 

“It’s a terrible feeling, isn’t it?” You don’t know if you’ve ever heard his voice so low before. He was a demon who could make a whole room shake with his jovial laugh. “There are days where I, too, feel utterly powerless.” 

“You?” Grasping at that napkin again, you bring it up to dry your face. “But–”

“I’m the ruler of the Devildom? One of the most powerful beings in the Three Realms? Yes, my dear. All great power comes with its golden chains, with its obstacles.” With a heavy sigh, Diavolo looks around the lavish dining hall you were both seated in. “A faction of the House of Lords continuously tries to undermine me, scheming behind my back to try and throw me out of my position.” His gaze now falls onto a painting on the distant wall, brushstrokes capturing war and fury. “The Celestial Realm tests my patience, mocking me at times as they play their own games, mainly of semantics.” 

He turns his attention back to you with a sad smile. “They’re all waiting to find a crack, see what will bring me down to my knees. They’ve nearly succeeded at times. Made me feel like I was just a child playing at king. Made me feel that no matter the power I possessed, they could still pull the rug from under me.” 

His hands find yours again, and this time you let them stay. 

“But what I found is that despite it all, despite all the power that I possess, what really puts my feet on solid ground is having those who still stand by my side through it all.” He looks deep into your eyes, and once more you’re captivated by that calming gold.

“And you, darling, have some of the best by yours.”

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

hi….I KNOW I KNOW ITS BEEN ALMOST TWO WEEKS? SINCE IVE POSTED. I was hit with the most SEVERE writers block i’ve ever had in my whole life. i hope you guys like this one. I'm feeling real self-conscious about my writing lately :( MUAH

DISCLAIMER: IF YOU WERE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH NSFW/DARK CONTENT OR ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18 PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT WITH MY BLOG. MUAH.

Warnings: Just smut. Mean old man leon, mentions of pregnancy, breeding, just enjoy

Word count: 1.4k

Though you loved Leon- he sure was a pain in the ass on his days off. Leon prided himself on being your provider; the only thing you ever had to worry about was looking pretty for him when he got home. And you tried- most of the time.

Yet on Saturdays he doesn’t give you the time of day. Ever. You always make him the best dinner, your hands scrubbing at the dishes in the sink as you yet again had to put Leon’s food in a small container. You turn off the sink, letting out a long sigh at the sound of Leon’s music shaking the kitchen floor. You start the dishwasher before you make your way to the garage door. Swinging it open as the chorus to coming undone by Korn rang through your ears. You winced at the loud music, your hand on your hip as you stood on the top step. The room was thick with smoke, slowly being aired out from the tiny crack in the opened garage door. Leon never notices your presence; the only reason he did was because your hand harshly smacks down on his radio, his head popping up from where he squatted down on the floor.

“The fuck?”

Leon’s husky voice rang through your ears as he wiped his hands on his jeans—such an asshole. You tilted your head at him with a cocky little smirk as you pointed toward the kitchen.

“Oh, Jus’ give me five more minutes baby and I’ll come eat, promise.”

Leon didn’t like that you mocked him, his hand resting on his knee as he just stared up at you

“You done?”

“Are you done?”

It was accidentally yelled but Leon couldn’t hear the whole accident part, his eyebrows raising as he stood up, laying his towel on his bike seat as his leg goes up the step. Leon’s head shakes as he watches you stepping back from him. It almost makes him laugh.

“Your dinner is in the fridge.”

Your words are cold; Leon smirked as he nodded his head again, taking a step toward you.

“Oh, c'mon honey.. y’know I hate when you’re all mad and pouty, especially at me.”

You shouldn’t be giving in to him. You know his tricks and how he works. Being in love with Leon on his good days was the best time of your life. You’ve been with him for years, the man has been through too much, and he has terrible days often. When did he get this close? His large hand presses up your tummy and around your waist before he pushes you into the garage door.

Leon smirks at the whine that leaves your lips as his strong hands hold at your waist, turning you around so your chest is against the door and your back is lying so perfectly against his

“So mean to my little girl.. always makes me dinner, folds my clothes..”

Leon’s cheek lays against your ear as he smells your strawberry shampoo, groaning as the sweet scent fills his nose.

“Never make time for you.. I bet you rub your pretty little clit all the time when I’m gone.. so sorry for being so negligent..”

Leon’s words make a soft moan escape your mouth. He knew he won, twisting open the door and shoving you into the kitchen, shoving himself against you.

“You think I care? You think I feel bad?”

He’s so much more robust, it’s impossible to fight him. His hands tug your jeans down your legs before a harsh smack comes onto your skin, making you jolt into the counter.

“Don’t fucking move and answer me, you had so much to say now you’re silent?”

What did he expect you to say? You hated apologizing when you knew it wasn’t your fault. Maybe he should be saying sorry to you, for constantly ignoring you on his days off and ignoring your hard work.

All is forgiven when he shoves his cock so deep inside you that your breathing stops, your hands grabbing at the counter as your toes curl into the wooden floors.

“You know I usually warm her up.. love sucking on your clit, but you needed more than that, didn’t you?”

Leon pulls your hips toward him more, using his strength as an advantage to bend you over the counter more. He couldn’t help but let out a shaky moan at the sight of you gripping his cock when he dragged himself out of you, using all his weight to fuck back into you.

It felt so fucking good but hurt so badly, your eyes squeezed shut as you continued to try and adjust to his size but in truth, he hadn’t touched you in weeks.

“Fuck Le.. jus’ miss you so much.”

The words left your lips in a slurred whine as you tilted your head back trying to look back at the handsome man who was far too focused on not cumming inside you two seconds into fucking you. Leon nodded his head as he reached forward, soft shushing leaving his lips as he pulled some hair from your face and grabbed at your neck, pulling you back towards him as his hips began to rock into you

“I know baby, can see it.. can’t you feel how much you missed me?”

Leon mumbled into your ear before kissing at the sensitive skin at your neck as he tried to fuck through your tightness but there was no point. Leon shoved you back down into the counter before his hands rested against your ass, pulling the skin apart to watch the way you sucked him in.

Leon’s whimper sent chills down your spine. Maybe work has been too much.. how selfish of you to assume he didn’t love you.

“Maybe I’ll put a baby in you, hm? Then you really won’t forget how much I love you.”

He knew he won by the way your mouth was hanging open, that toothy smile spreading across his face as his hips moved faster

“That’s my fucking girl..”

Leon moaned as he pulled himself out of you and grabbed at your wrist, watching as you blinked at him all confused. You try not to question him in times like these but when Leon pushes you down onto the plush couch, a small yelp leaves your lips as Leon's hands gripped at your thighs. Before you could even blink he was bottomed out inside of you again, shallow breaths leaving your nose as he shoves your knees to your chest and over his shoulders. He thinks it’s so cute as your shaky little hands try and push him away, he’s just so deep, his cock hitting that gummy spot inside of you that makes the coil in your stomach burn.

“No, no, don’t push away from me now. You wanted this remember? You fucking wanted this look at me-“

Leon’s fingers harshly gripped at your face, smacking down onto your already flushed skin causing you to whimper out as his thrusts somehow grow deeper.

“Leon..”

Your whine is enough for him to know, His hand reaching down to press into your stomach before he steadies his position, pounding into you. Every thrust makes that small little scream leave your lips that drives Leon fucking crazy, sweat building at his brow as he roughly fucks into you.

He could watch you thrash beneath him for hours, your mouth open babbling nonsense begging him to stop but your hips push up to meet his cock every single time. He watches as you go silent, your knees pressing together as your walls squeeze at his cock, Leon groans, his hand gripping at your knee as he tries not to fall on top of you as he finally finishes inside of you. His hips move very slowly as he grinds into you. His breath is heavy as he looks down at you, reaching down to push some hair from your face as he pulls out of you.

The two of you just stare at each other for a bit before you sit up, walking to grab your jeans and turning to the bathroom.

Leon shakes his head as he rebuttons his pants and stands up, his hands helping you tug your jeans up your legs before he grabs at your ass, smacking lightly as he makes his way towards the garage.. again.

“Warm my food up for me.”

[thorniest-rose]

Hi everyone,

A lot’s happened over the last few days and I know that I’ve been under a lot of scrutiny and the subject of conversation, so I wanted to take a moment to talk about it with you. I didn't address it last week when I was told that people in the fandom were posting about me and sharing screenshots of my blog. This was to protect my mental health, but now I want to share my own thoughts.

It's really hard not to lash out in situations like this because of how much it hurts. To go through something like this is shocking and humiliating, it rips the ground up from under your feet. But I didn't want to go on the attack because I knew how much worse that would make things. No matter how opinionated I am, conflict makes me feel sick and makes me want to hide. So instead of lashing out, I've done a lot of thinking over the past few days, not just about what's happened to me, but about things I've done and what could have led to this.

Firstly, I want to apologise to everyone whose feelings I may have hurt when I posted certain things in the past. I want any space that I cultivate to be a happy, positive one for the people who spend time here and at times I think I’ve unintentionally created an atmosphere that has felt combative or alienating. I honestly never consider myself to be a well-known writer or someone whose voice has reach in the wider fandom. No matter how many followers I have or how many people read my fics, I always see myself as a girl just spending time on her tumblr, but that's naive and I should have recognised that in a shared space, all opinions are seen and have an impact. 

Discourse is my least favourite thing about interacting in fandom and there have been times where I’ve let myself be drawn into it. That doesn’t mean it’s ever okay to look down on what other people enjoy and I really regret posting those things now because that’s not who I am as a person. Expressing displeasure and other negative feelings isn’t what I want to engage in and I should remember how easy it is for flippant, spur of the moment comments to be taken out of context. Saying things like “I don’t like this” even on my own blog is immature and beneath me and I’m genuinely sorry.  

I am also in no way any sort of authority on how these characters are written, no one is. A fandom is for everyone. I’m passionate and vocal in my own space because I treat my tumblr as a slumber party with my friends, but in my enthusiasm, there have been times where it seems like I’m saying my characterisations are the only valid ones. I don’t think that’s the case at all, and I genuinely love and admire the creativity in this fandom. I’ve said this before, but just because I have preferences doesn’t mean I want every characterisation to be the same as mine because that would become extremely dull. I believe that any and all interpretations should have an audience.

However, while I take responsibility for the things I've said on my blog, the things that have been said about me in response have been extremely spiteful and damaging. I never wanted a war with anyone. I should know better than to court discourse in such a volatile fandom, even inadvertently. To take issue with me and what I said is fine, I accept the criticism and apologise; at times my comments have been juvenile and mean-spirited. But a group of people targeting me, screenshotting my posts, calling me names and attacking what I write isn’t proportionate at all and encourages a wider pack mentality. I think we should all remember that there is an actual person behind the screen reading the things that we post and that our words can cause real harm. It’s easy to dehumanise an avatar and a username. And I think it speaks to a rot at the heart of fandoms that so many people find pleasure in fighting and where feelings can fester into hatred and vitriol.

I am outspoken and passionate about what I love. I sometimes bristle at things I see that don’t gel with my ideas or at a misjudged tone, and I post about them instead of seeing the bigger picture and moving on. It’s a flaw and something I’m working on, to be more open and less reactive. I don’t want fighting or tension, and I don’t want rivalries. I also don’t ever want to make people feel like their characterisations are wrong/invalid/unworthy or that they themselves don’t belong and that I’m some kind of fandom queen bee trying to ice them out. While that’s genuinely never been my intention, I can see how things have been taken that way and I’m sorry for that too.

Again, I’m sorry to everyone I’ve hurt or alienated with comments that I’ve made. I always want to be kind and compassionate. And while I don’t think what’s happened over the past few days is OK, I can see the bigger picture and why things I’ve said, or the atmosphere I’ve cultivated, has planted seeds of resentment. I've also unblocked the person who's been posting about me, if they want to reach out to talk privately.

I know there are people reading this who have been following me for the past four years, and in that time have seen me struggle, and fall down, and make mistakes, but hopefully grow and learn from those mistakes too. I’m so grateful to you all.

I’m going to take a break from tumblr for a week or so, to spend time away from socials, to connect with friends and other passions and focus on self-care. And to write, of course, because I’ll always be writing, whether it’s here or elsewhere.

See you all soon,

Brooke 💕

[happy-beeeps]

To Build a Home

WC: 4.2k

Pairing: din x reader

Synopsis: You’re on the hunt to make this house on Nevarro a home, but you’re wrestling with feelings of inadequacy in you and Din’s relationship after he adopts Grogu but doesn’t take you as his riduur. Fluffy, emotional hurt comfort, domesticity, slice of life, Din is a fisherman for 30 seconds.

Warnings: none really! Vaguely ooc Din but I think I got it back. Ever since that one episode of The Bad Batch I’ve just been dying to send Din fishing

A/N: HAPPY MAY THE 4TH!!!!

Fun fact, when I started this blog three years ago it was because the Mandalorian had just come out and people had only just started writing Din fic. I was in the trenches with the other mando fic pioneers. Technically this is the same reader as my first ever longfic “I don’t do droids” which I’ve semi abandoned BUT I do plan on making a better spin off version soon! It's not at all necessary to read that to understand the reader’s backstory though!

* * *

You’ve been to markets before. The familiar fast paced environment had always been something of a vice to you when you traveled with Din, the reprieve from being crammed on the crest or a short expedition for something to snack on. Once or twice Din himself had even accompanied you, with the baby wrapped around your chest in a bundle of fabric, his hand interlaced with yours. Now, though, you’re alone for what feels like the first time in years. You’re wandering through the market at a speed so slow it’s almost comical, taking time to touch, to see, to hear.

It’s exhilarating.

Nevarro has grown since you had first been here, and you can’t say it’s been particularly easy for you to return, to immerse yourself in a system that’s caused you so much pain. There are nights you find yourself thrashing at the sheets at the image of Din’s body crumpling under fire as the rest of you were forced down through the halls of the covert, or the ice that filled your veins when you realized your son had been taken. That Nevarro is gone, however, up in ash like the volcanos that dot the landscape of this system. You have a home here, a real house, and you’re determined to make it into something to rid both you and Din of your nightmares.

You left Din and Grogu at the house and took the small speeder he had been restoring for you back to the city center, parking it just outside the bustling square, ready to go if need be. Old habits die hard, you guess. The city itself now brims with life, families duck in and out of each other as they weave through the streets, droids pull carts of fresh produce. It’s all very exciting, very reassuring. 

“Lady Djarin!” A booming voice calls, one that stops the people nearest to you as they part ways to make space for the figure coming through. Greef Karga walks through the parted crowd, offering handshakes and smiles to those he walks past, before coming to stop at you and extending his arm. “Going shopping?”

You blush slightly at the moniker, Din had been clear that you had been made part of his clan and while you were by no means married, you appreciate the sentiment. “You know if I let Din make decisions on the house it’d stay as barren as the day we moved in.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he chuckles, escorting you through the streets and alleys. It really is beautiful here, with overflowing greenery practically spilling out of the windows of the residents, flowers of numerous bright colors dotting shopfronts and the hair of those who walk past you. “Have you been to our markets before?”

You glance at him and quirk up an eyebrow.  “Have I ever had much time for shopping when we’ve been on system?”

“You’ve got a fair point.” He leads you farther, until you approach a colorful alley with storefronts boasting fruits, silks, and small goods that stretches farther than you can see. “I recommend the flowers from the Togruta woman halfway down, if you were to pick some up,” and pats your hand before leaving you to your own devices. He knows you well enough at this point to know that you aren’t unable to defend yourself, and that you do occasionally appreciate the rare moments you get away from father and baby.

It’s not that you don’t love them both dearly, you do, so much so that you keenly remember the feeling of bringing a vibroblade up to the chest of Moff Gideon before you were quickly thrown aside. You’ve got the scars to prove it. You adore them. You also needed a moment of peace, to think and feel and make a home out of the house you were so graciously gifted. Besides, you can’t help but feel a little lost in your place in life now, as the dust has settled. Din had clearly adopted Grogu as his son, a fact you really couldn’t be happier about, but where did you land? You had waited with baited breath for him to ask the Armorer to add you to their song, but he hadn’t. Instead the three of you left soon afterwards, planning to meet up at Nevarro after he went to talk to an old friend with the New Republic. You had grown to resent his little two seater N-1, much preferring the space of your trusty fighter.

You walk down the alley, stopping to feel the fabrics and scarves that line the booths. One stall boasts brightly colored blankets, and you rustle through the soft blankets before you find a warm cream color dotted with tiny, multi-colored, embroidered flowers.You hand the shopkeeper the credits, and continue to walk down the street, doing your very best attempt to not buy everything you touch, though you aren’t sure you’ll succeed.

“Fruits! Fresh fruits here!”

“Instruments for the finest songstress!”

“Silks and scarves, keep warm when the sun sets!”

“A treasure for the finest student, primers for language!”

It’s this last seller that stops you in your tracks, reminding you of the reason you first met Din anyways. Sure, your role had grown now, twisted into something beautiful and pure, but aside from being lover, mother, confidant, and pilot, you were at your core, his translator. 

“What languages do you offer?” You say, walking into the old man’s small storefront. It’s cool inside, with walls painted a deep blue with light blue outlines of nearby star systems, like a map projected. He’s got datapads and even a few books of flimsi strewn around, tucked into cupboards, as well as collectibles from systems you could only dream of visiting. 

“What language do you need?” He grins, pulling out a datapad from his pocket and opening a menu that seems to scroll for years. “I offer most standard tongues, as well as a few more useful in the outer rim. You strike me as someone who’s looking for something a bit more unique.”

“I’m a translator by trade,” you say, scrolling through the offerings until you find something that stops you. “Standard is my craft.”

“A scholar then,” he pauses, and takes the datapad away from you. “When was the last time you learned a language for yourself?”

“I learned Kaleesh when I was younger,” you shrug, and the shopkeeper laughs.

“What does a woman like you need a war-tongue for?” “All the best people in my life are fighters.”

“Perhaps the language of a friend then, a spouse?” he offers, and you stop in your aimless wandering around the shop. Of course, how could you have been so stupid.

“I’ll take one basic primer, for a child, and anything you’ve got on Mando’a.”

Your arms are beginning to tire from the amount of things you’ve picked up: you’ve got toys for Grogu, fruits and vegetables, some meat for dinner, the blanket, your downloads, a few silks to hang for drapery, seeds, and a rug that’s set to be delivered in a rotation. You’re about to turn back, content with the amount of credits you’ve ran through in a day when you notice her, the Togruta woman and her flower stand. She’s inarguably stunning, with wide eyes and lekkuu that stretch down her chest, her markings intricate and carved down her face in an eye-catching way. 

“Hi,” you begin as you walk up to her, she’s pruning a bright orange flower now, and she glances up from her work to offer you a smile. “Your flowers come highly recommended by magistrate Karga.”

She scoffs and sets her flower down, offering you a worn hand to shake. “I’m Obesha.” She gestures to the blooms bursting from her cart. “What are you looking for?”

“Well, I’m relatively new in town, me and my,” you struggle to find the word. Din isn’t your spouse, but he’s more than your boyfriend. Frankly, lover feels a little too intimate for this woman you just met. “Companion and our child just settled outside town and I’m looking for something to brighten up our home.”

Obesha grins, before plucking a variety of blue, yellow, and white flowers carefully, tucking in pieces of greenery amongst them. “Turning a house into a home is one of the most challenging, yet rewarding things a being can do.” She gingerly plucks at the leaves, pruning it to perfection, before wrapping the bouquet up in a light gray cloth, which for some unbeknownst reason feels softer than anything you’ve felt before.

“What is this?”

She hums and turns back into her shop, coming out with a larger swatch of fabric, this one decorated with finely worked sheer lace, dyed the same blue-gray as the fabric on the outside of the bouquet. “It’s custom in my village to wear these for special occasions,” she pulls the wrap up to model it on herself, and you’re struck by the way the light filters through the lace. “It’s deceivingly warm and very beautiful.” She folds it up into a small square before handing it to you, “consider it a housewarming gift.”

Your mouth falls open as you struggle to reach into your bag for the credits. “Please, let me pay you, I have the money.”

She extends a hand forward to hush you, then gestures back down the alley. “Pay me back by letting me know what your family thinks of my arrangement.”

* * *

You’re distracted your whole ride back, which you admit probably isn’t the best thing for you to be as you navigate the desert. It’s not a particularly long ride to your home, which you’re grateful for, and you smile as the familiar form of the ships parked outside the small cabin beacon you in. Din and Grogu must not be home, considering he usually rushes to you to take anything you’re carrying and you can typically hear Grogu’s coos before you see him. It isn’t a surprise then, when you walk in to find the house empty, and notice the small message flashing on the datapad he’s left behind.

Gone fishing just down the springs.-D

It’s a habit he’s picked up after the brief time the two of you spent apart, when Grogu went to live with the Jedi and Din went off on his own. He came back to you quickly, finding you easily while you worked as a translator on Tatooine, with the daimyo you and Din had gotten to know very well. He never left without a message again once he had you back, and you smile as you swipe the note away.

“Time to organize!” you clap to no one in particular, and begin setting things up around the home. You tuck the new blanket in along you and Din’s bed (a concept that still feels so foreign after the places you’ve been sleeping recently) and the toys on a shelf in the small room you’ve begun calling Grogu’s nursery. The rest is relatively simple, tucking fabrics along windows and placing fruits in the kitchen. You put the bouquet down in the middle of the small table, and are sure to add fresh water to the vase. It’s really coming together, you have to say. The cabin isn’t particularly large, the majority of the house consisting of one large room that works as kitchen, living, and sleeping space (which you’ve done your best to section off,) a small ‘fresher off towards the back, and the small room you and Din have given to Grogu. It’s perfect for your little clan of three, and you don’t find yourself wishing for more from the space, settling down on the couch and digging into the Mandalorian language pages on your datapad.

You aren’t sure how long has passed when your legs want for movement, and you set the datapad down and opt to go find your fishermen. It’s still blazingly hot on the surface, so you forgo the small shawl and walk towards the direction of the springs. You and Din had both dipped in them on your first night here before you realized the springs died off into a small, cooler pond a short walk away. There, Karga had explained, there was a thriving population of fish and other reptiles that were open for fishing. 

You spot them before they spot you, Din’s shiny helmet reflecting in your direction. It’s another thing that’s had your gut twisted in on itself. You’ve seen Din’s face, the day Grogu left you had seen it. In that moment you had fallen deeper in love than you realized even possible. You were absolutely supportive of him and frankly, you were elated he’d been able to be welcomed back into his covert, but you couldn’t help but feel like an absolutely terrible person for it. Honestly, you hadn’t expected this move to domesticity to churn up so many emotions for you, particularly when this is the thing you’ve basically been dreaming of since the two of you first kissed.

Now, he’s perched on a rock, pole in hand, while Grogu sits on his knee, eyes fixed on the pond. You walk up quietly behind him but years of experience have him turning his head to spot you walking. Grogu turns too, and you can swear he gurgles out something to the effect of “buir!” as he bounces up and down on his father’s knee. You move in to scooch beside Din, who happily makes room for you, as you run a hand down the side of his helmet.

“Hi,” you breathe, and his hand, not on the pole, moves to find your fingers.

“Hi.” He murmurs back, and you rest your head on his shoulder. 

“I got some things for the house,” you lean over to scratch Grogu’s ears, “Got some stuff for bug and some food for dinner.”

“Can I cook for you?”

Your cheeks bloom at the words, “Sure, I’ve never had your cooking.”

“Never really had the space to do it,” he shrugs, “but I do now.”

You settle into a comfortable silence after this, and he sets Grogu down to splash in the edge of the pond and rests the fishing pole on the side of the rock. With his hands free, he heaves you up onto his lap and slides his arms around your waist. “Did you get anything for yourself?”

“One or two things,” you wave a hand in the air, “got a language learner for Grogu, thought we could try and teach him basic.”

“Please, as if we need to give him more ways to say ‘No’” He groans, but you can tell from the shake of his shoulders that he’s laughing, and he pulls you in closer to his chest. “We haven’t caught anything all day.”

“Mmm… so he clearly doesn’t get his patience from his father.”

“No, he gets it from his mother.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. Sure, you know you’re his mother, but hearing those words, after the adoption, it floods you with a warmth that has you wishing you could just kiss him right now.

“Cyare,” he starts, his hand coming to rest on your cheek, but is disrupted by the sound of violent splashing. You both jump up just to see Grogu standing at the edge of the pond, fish in hand. 

“I guess only one of you had trouble today,” you nudged him playfully before going to scoop up the baby, while he dropped the fish in the pond.

It’s been dangerously quiet inside the house, and you’ve been relegated to sit out on the small bench on the front porch. You appreciate Din cooking but the simple fact that you aren’t entirely sure he knows how to cook slipped your mind when you agreed. Now, you try not to think about that fact, and dedicate yourself to the datapad in your lap. You’ve seen some familiar words, buir and cyare, even the diminutives Din calls you late at night, cyar’ika and mesh’la.  You’ve always wanted to pick up his mother tongue, and you want to kick yourself for not doing it sooner. Now, you’re devouring it, trying to learn it all. It’s a rich language, more complex than most you’ve learned. You’re so wrapped up in your reading that when Din opens the front door you jump, and he leans forward to grab your hand, guiding you out of the chair.

“I think it’s done?”

“You aren’t inspiring a lot of confidence here,” you laugh as you walk inside, sitting down at the table next to Grogu. Din brings over the pot and you peer in. He’s done what looks to be a solid job, the vegetables are chopped a little more rough than you could’ve done, and you can tell the meat is slightly overdone, but considering it comes from him, you spoon it onto your plate like it’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten. You pour some out in front of Grogu and you feel Din’s eyes practically burn holes in your head.

“Yes?”

“I want to know if you like it.” He’s so quiet, the voice sounding almost shy. You reach over and place a hand atop his. 

“There isn’t a universe where you make something I don’t love.”

You both begin eating in silence, (his use of seasoning is surprisingly impeccable, and the meat is only a touch rough) when he starts up again. “The flowers are a nice touch, and the drapes.”

“Thank you,” you blush. “I just wanted to warm it up here.”

“Maker knows I don’t know what I’m doing, we’re lucky to have you.” He reaches over and taps you on the chin before turning his attention to Grogu, running a rag on the table across his mouth as he manages to smear every bite of food across his face.

After dinner, the two of you work to clean the kitchen while Grogu plays with one of the new toys you brought for him in the living room. You and Din are chatting, about nothing, about everything, when the warmth of the moment hits you, and you lean your head on his shoulder. He’s since dressed down to just his helmet, and you can feel the warmth of his skin radiate beneath his shirt. “This is nice.”

“What, dishes?” he laughs, but you can feel his arm snake loosely around your hips as he sets the last plate down.

“Just, this” you gesture to the house, to the pile of dishes, to Grogu playing, “it’s nice to have a home.”

“I already had a home,” he pulls you in closer, you can smell the sweat of the day and his spiced aftershave from where your head falls on his chest. “When Grogu falls asleep, I want to take you somewhere.” He pushes his forehead on yours, before moving to sit on the floor with Grogu, leaving you standing in the kitchen, grinning like an idiot at the scene before you. This is your family, your clan. Husband or not, Din is the love of your life, you’ve lost him and the baby once and you don’t intend to do it again. You set down the cleaning rag and join the two of them on the floor, happy to oblige in whatever game Grogu is playing.

* * *

“Where’d you get that?” Din asks as he leads you down the rocky sides of the springs.

“The florist, it’s shockingly warm.” You pull the shawl tighter around your form and Din stops suddenly. You're back at the pond from earlier only now it looks different. There’s a small blanket strewn across the rock you had sat on earlier, and he scrambles to light a few assorted candles that litter the ground. Even the scenery appears to have changed, as tiny yellow lights dot the air.

“They’re actually tiny lifeforms,” he says, gesturing to the yellow dots, “Karga told me they come out at night over here.”

“It’s beautiful, how come we haven’t been here yet?”

“Just waiting for a good time to get you alone.” He pulls you closer to the rock and the two of you sit down, your back pressed to his chest as you watch the sky turn a deep purple color as the yellow lights dance in the sky. You sit like that in silence for a moment longer when his voice comes out, rumbling and warm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong, why?” You sputter, and you want to smack yourself for how incriminating that sounds.

“You’re hiding it, and hiding it well. But something’s wrong,” his voice comes low to your ear now, still modulated and heavy but him. “What I don’t know is why you won’t tell me.”

“I’m… It’s really not a big deal.”

“Can I guess?”

“If you want.”

“Well,” he breathes in, like he’s holding his breath, “I commed Bo.”

You whip your head around at that. He must have been really concerned to enlist the help of one of your favorite Mandalorians.

“Oh? What did Bo say?” “That I’m a nerf herder.”

You snort at that and settle into his chest again. “Sounds like Bo.”

His hands come up to turn you towards him, and he pulls your legs so you're facing him, your legs wrapping around his waist. You’re close like this, if you leaned forward you could rest your forehead against his. “You doubt me, what I feel for you.”

“That’s not really the way I would put it,” you murmur, and he closes the gap for you, bringing his helmet to your head. “I just was worried… that I wasn’t a part of your clan. You’ve adopted Grogu, and that makes you his father. But I’m just-”

“His mother. Cyar’ika, I haven’t been fair with you.” His hands move to press small circles into your back. “I shouldn’t have let you feel doubt in me, in our clan. You are to Grogu as I am. You’re my-”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” you breathe, and it’s your turn to cut him off, whispering the sweet words to him in the echo of the world. You can hear his breath hitch as he grabs you tighter. “I’ve been practicing all day.”

“You don’t need to speak my language to be a part of me. You already have been for longer than I can say,” he murmurs, and his hand goes to the back of your head. “Gar solus ner aliit, gar solus but buir.”

It takes you a moment to catch up with the translations, the sweet words he’s whispering, and Din uses this moment of thinking to bring both his hands up to his helmet, disengage the locking mechanism, and pull it off, resting it on the rock beside him.

“Din!” you shout, and smack your hands over your eyes, but he’s faster than you and catches your wrists in your hands. 

“Look at me mesh’la.” And you do, you drink him in with everything you have, bringing your hands to trace his lips, his nose, eyes refusing to leave his. “I finally have something to offer you.” He whispers, his lips so close to your ear that you swear you’ve died. That must be the case. You’ve simply ascended into the great beyond. “I didn’t add you to the song on Mandalore because I wanted to have something to give you, something to promise you forever.”

You look past his shoulder to the silhouette of the cabin. “Our house.”

“Our home.” He holds your cheeks in his hands, and you can tell he’s been as starved of this as you have. “You’ve made it a home.”

His lips are on yours in an instant, and you’re devouring him like you’ve been starved. Sure, you’ve kissed him since he put his helmet back on, but the weight of all of this, of his helmet being gone, of you seeing him again, it’s like the first time all over again.

“Din, your creed.” You murmur between kisses.

“Save me the trip back to Mandalore and marry me then.”

You pull back, searching his eyes for any joke, and you want to cry when there isn’t one.

“I told you, when I had something to offer you.”

You’re laughing and crying now as he fiddles with the lace hem of your shawl before delicately draping it across your head. “My riduur.”

Even with your expert knowledge of linguistics, the vows are clunky and foreign in your mouth, but with Din smiling at you, you have no complaints. He scoops you and his helmet up almost immediately, walking you back into the cabin and tossing you onto the bed. He breaks from your gaze for just a minute to go into the nursery and emerges with a sleepy-eyed Grogu.

“Hi baby,” you croon as Din places him on the bed and he waddles towards you.

“He loves his buir” Din whispers as he falls into bed beside you. The little green cover stealer is quick to settle between you and his dad, his hands reaching out to press on both of your foreheads. You look over at Din, whose eyes are once again finding yours.

“Welcome home.” He whispers.

You mean to tell him that you love him, that you’re happy to be married to him, but sleep 

finds you first. Not that it matters. 

He already knows.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

HI HI it’s me (i’m the problem, it’s me) the sugu romance is dead anon back craving more angst 🥺

Can I have some Suguru, Insecurity, “We’re better off as friends.”

I’ve been in your blog since your birthday and I just wanna thank you for writing all these, they have become my bedtime stories. Love, sugu anon 🫶🫶🫶

HAI SUGU ANON HOW ARE YOU?! I'm so sorry this is so late, I got preoccupied with Better off as Lovers and the page refresh, along with trying to survive in capitalism (boo, lol). But I didn't forget about you! And I am so excited to present you with this!

now loading...

featuring: an insecure Suguru Geto, making the worst mistake of his life.

Suguru loved you more than he thought was possible to love another human. He didn’t even love himself as much as he loved you. And it terrified him. You were everything he wasn’t, but tried to be. You were caring, considerate, creative, and so warm to everyone you ever met. He tired to embody those traits with you, but he just..couldn’t. It was like you were golden, but he was just golden plated.

He’d spent the last six months trying to get over these feelings of inadequacy. To remind himself that it was all in his head. You had to see something in him, right? Some shimmer of something good. You wouldn’t be with him otherwise, right? That thought would comfort him for all of two seconds before he would remember he was a con man at heart, and that he simply had you fooled; the same way he had everyone else fooled. 

He held these feelings since the two of you started this relationship, but he had them mostly under control. He had himself convinced that while he had these feelings, it ultimately didn’t matter because you two were meant to be together. It was why the two of you clicked to easily when you first met, why it felt so right to hold you in his arms, why the two of you were put into such close proximity in the first place! The universe had put the two of you together for a reason. Who else would you even be with?

Then Gojo just had to go and open his fucking mouth. Drunken one night in “Casa Gojo” while the two of them watched some shitty movie. Suguru didn’t even remember the name of the film anymore. But he did remember the glassy haze in his best friends eyes as he slurred his confession, like a sinner begging for forgiveness. 

“I think I’ve had a crush on her since I first looked at her,” Gojo mumbled, looking at Geto with sad, sleepy eyes. “But, you guys got along so well, and she seemed so into you, I just…I didn't pursue anything. I didn’t want to steal her from you, I guess.” He laughed, but there was no humor. Suguru wasn’t laughing.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, voice coming out as more of a forced whisper than much else. Gojo just shrugged.

“I don’t know. Get it off my chest, I guess?”

That night hadn’t left Sugurus head. He had justified your relationship by it all being fate, something that was inevitable; it had to happen. But what if he had gotten in the way of his best friends fate? Gojo was better than him in every conceivable way, and he got along with you just as well. Who’s to say Suguru wasn’t the one holding you back all this time? He was an anchor for everyone he had ever loved, and it wasn’t fair for him to keep insisting you drown with him. Something had to give. 

All of this had led him here: sitting back to back with you on opposite sides of his bed; trying to pretend he didn’t hear the sobs wreaking your body. Pretending like he wasn’t fighting off his own tears.

“I’m sorry Y/n, I just think were better off as friends-” 

“Yea, I heard you the first time!” You snapped at him, shutting him up instantly as you wrapped his hoodie tighter around your shoulders. You hated the comfort you found in it now. “I’m still waiting for your real reason. Did I do something wrong?” You begged him for explanations he couldn’t give, explanations he didn’t have.

“No!” He sighed, “No, it’s not you, you’re perfect. I just…I’m not in love with you anymore.” He forced himself to say. The words tasted bitter on his tongue, like vomit and battery acid. Truth be told, he was sure he’d love you for the rest of his life. As far as he was concerned, the sun rises in the morning just for you, and the stars dazzle the night sky solely in the hopes you’d glance at them. Knowing he was holding you back from those stars made him feel like he was made of sludge. He couldn’t keep holding you back like this.

“What do you mean you’re not in love with me?!” You sobbed, feeling your heart shatter into a million more pieces, “How do you just fall out of love with someone Suguru, I don’t understand! Is there someone else?” Is that what you needed to believe to accept this? Fine. He could be the villain.

“I didn't mean for it to end up this way Y/n.” He muttered, his voice little more that a choked whisper, “It’s just…we met for drinks one night, one thing led to another-”

“Oh my god.” You cut him off, looking as sick as he felt. “Who is she?!” You demanded.

“No one you know.” He couldn't give you the name of someone who didn’t exist. He could give you someone to blame for all this, some tangible reason why it was happening, but for some reason his heart drew the line at naming the imaginary woman he gave up everything for.

“How long?”

“Three weeks I think?” He mumbled, running a shaky hand through his hair. He hated lying to you. You suddenly stood up, taking his hoodie off and throwing it at him with enough force for it to hurt. You walked to stand in front of him.

“You fucking disgust me Suguru Geto,” You hissed, letting your rage overtake your heartbreak.

“I know.” He disgust himself.

“I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking letting myself fall in love with you! I don’t know who I’m more mad at, me for having the gaul to imagine a life with you, or you for throwing it all away. You are so fucking-” sobs cut off your words, you covered your mouth as you took your time to try and regain your composure. “I can’t believe you’d so this to me..”

Suguru felt his soul crumble. He wanted to wipe your tears away, hold you close and tell you about his lie. To tell you there was no other woman- just him and his insecurities- through a myriad of apologies. He wanted to fall to his knees before you and beg for forgiveness, some way to make it right and go back to how the two of you were an hour ago.

He couldn’t do that though. He couldn’t keep asking you to drown with him. You were meant for stars, not the bottom of the ocean. “I’m sorry Y/n.” was all he could say.

“Like that does shit now.” You scoffed, “Thanks for ruining me asshole.” You hissed, the vitriol in your voice hurting more than any physical attack ever could. You stormed out of his apartment, slamming the door hard enough to shake his walls. He fought the urge to chase after you. To hold you again. He took a deep breath and mentally tried to end the best chapter in his life. He called Gojo.

“Geto? It’s like 2 Am dude, what’s going on?” He asked through a tired yawn.

“Y/n and I broke up. She probably shouldn’t be alone. I hope you two are happy together.” That last part came out with way more disgust than he meant it to.

“Wait, what? Du-” Geto hung up before Gojo could finish his sentence. He ignored the next 5 calls that came through before finally just turning off his phone.

He laid in bed staring at his ceiling. In his soul he knew he had just made the biggest mistake of his life. His bones already ached for your familiar comfort, and his heart felt like it couldn’t find it’s rhythm again. Still, it would be worth it if the two best people he knew could find happiness together. He sighed, feeling his lungs collapse with the breath. He could swear he felt his gold plating rubbing off.

[thru-the-grapevine]

Something New (m)

Pairing: Cho Seungyoun x fem!reader

Summary: Sometimes your boyfriend asking you blunt questions pays off for you in the end.

Word Count: 3.3k

Tags/Warnings: mature content (minors dni), pwfwp (porn with feelings without plot), oral sex (fem. receiving), established relationship, they are simps for each other, inexperienced!reader

Author’s Note: if you’ve been around on this blog at all, you’ll know this isn’t the typical sort of thing I post. I have no excuse other than the man makes me absolutely insane and I decided to be self-indulgent. Please read at your own risk.

“Have you ever thought about letting me eat you out?”

You cough, nearly choking on your own tongue, and drop your phone against your boyfriend’s chest.

You lift your head from Seungyoun’s shoulder and look at him, incredulous. “What?”

Seungyoun glances at you, shooting you a brief little smile before continuing to scroll his phone.

“Letting me go down on you,” he clarifies, confirming you had somehow, in fact, heard him right after all.

You blink several times, brain mysteriously empty.

“I…uh,” you finally stammer.

You’ve been with Seungyoun long enough to know that he likes to be blunt and face things head-on, no beating around the bush. It does catch you by surprise, though, anytime it’s about something intimate.

The plain look on his face is indication enough that this question is par for the course with him. “Didn’t know if it was on the list of stuff you were interested in trying.”

He’s known since before you started seeing each other that you’re inexperienced, never having any real interest in sex until you met him. He’s taken this very well, been exceedingly patient and a perfect sweetheart with you. He always cheerfully answers your shy questions in a way that doesn’t embarrass you for being curious, and loves going along with your hesitant experimentation whenever you like.

You haven’t experimented far beyond heavy makeout sessions, beyond dry humping and hands under shirts, but where your timidity has stopped you in real life, your imagination has run rampant. So in all honesty, you have thought about Seungyoun eating you out. You’ve had no courage whatsoever to say anything about it, but the thought of his mouth on you has come to mind more and more often lately. Little daydreams of your hands in his hair, your thighs clamped around his head, of an unfamiliar pleasure that might possibly be better than your own fingers or shower head.

The way he’s smiling at you makes you pretty sure he knows what you’ve been thinking from your facial expressions.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you mumble, halfheartedly thumping your hand against his chest.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Seungyoun laughs. “I’m the one who asked.”

“Why did you?” You ask, watching him closely.

He shrugs a shoulder, turning his smile back to his phone. “Because I’ve been thinking about it.”

Oh. Something funny quivers in your stomach, heat like lava pooling low. He’s been thinking about it, too. Been thinking about spreading your legs and lowering his head to—

“You—I…” You try to start a thought several times, then realize you have none.

His smile only widens. He keeps scrolling his phone, looking cool as a cucumber, which isn’t fair.

“You have?” You finally finish weakly.

He looks up from his phone to meet your gaze.

“I have,” he says.

Your brain doesn’t know what to do with this information. “You….but….”

He tilts his head slightly. “But?”

“Why—” You cut off, squirming a little. “I…why would you be thinking about it?”

“Because I want to do it?” He sounds amused and puzzled.

“I—but, like. Why would…?” You ask, looking anywhere but at him.

“Ah,” he murmurs, realization in his voice. When you look back up at him, his eyes are sparkling, gaze too fond for what comes out of his mouth.

“You make the cutest little noises when you're getting yourself off in my lap. I need to be the reason you make them, on purpose this time.”

A bolt of pure lust hits you right in the stomach, air stalling in your lungs. You shiver, toes curling.

“Ah,” you croak.

The corners of his eyes are crinkling. You look away from him, trying to remember to breathe evenly. “And that’s….good, for you?”

He snorts. “Oh, yes. A lot. Very much.”

“…I see,” you say.

He grins, his gaze landing on your mouth. “Hm? You like that?”

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the liquid heat simmering low in your belly. “A…a little.”

His gaze only makes you hotter. “Yeah? A little?”

“Okay, maybe a lot,” you say, voice raspier than usual.

“Hm.” He studies your face for a long moment, smile rather pleased. Then he winks at you and goes back to his phone. “Good.”

You blink at him in disbelief for a long moment.

“That’s…that’s all?” You ask.

He glances at you. “All?”

“I—you were just…” you flounder for a moment. “Just…asking?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah. Just asking. Good to know.”

“…Oh,” you say.

He glances at you, eyebrows raising in curiosity at your tone. Then he smiles, looking so mischievous that your face burns.

“Did you want it to be something else?” He asks, and his voice is low and silky, brushing smooth like a caress.

Well, you had. Being found out makes you ten shades of embarrassed. You suppose you weren’t exactly subtle, though.

“You are the worst,” you grumble.

Seungyoun grins, plucking your phone from your hand and setting it aside with his and gathering you close to him, until you’re curled up nose-to-nose.

“I am,” he murmurs, gleeful. He looks down at your mouth. “So you’re interested in trying it?”

You swallow hard, settling your hands on his chest. “I…I mean, yes, but…”

The little trails of warmth his fingertips are drawing along the side of your neck are distracting, as is the molten warmth of his eyes.

“But?” He prompts, patient and soft.

Your voice won’t rise above a whisper. “But maybe we, uh….work our way up to it, like. It’s just…”

The thought of diving right in immediately, no matter how interested you are in it, sets little panic bells off in your head.

“…Scary, if we just…go for it,” you breathe, face burning.

His smirk softens into a sweet smile. He nuzzles his nose against yours reassuringly.

“‘Course, love. Defeats the purpose if you’re scared,” he says, and you know by his tone he really means it.

You let out a soft little sigh, more relieved than you realized. He’s always so good about taking things at your pace; it’s wonderful.

Seungyoun gazes at your mouth, lifting a hand and running his thumb along your lower lip. “What if I showed you here what it would be like first? And we can stop there if you want.”

Oh. You glance down at his lips as he talks, mind racing. He wants to give your mouth head. That’s…hmmm. If it was possible to be any more turned on, you would be. You swallow thickly, curling your fingers into his shirt.

“Okay,” you whisper.

He looks back up into your eyes, as though gauging your confirmation. “Yeah?”

“Uh-huh,” you say, nodding a little.

He studies you for another second, then nods once, gazing back down at your mouth. “Is now a good time?”

“Well, let me check my schedule,” you deadpan, and he laughs.

The smile lingers on his lips as he leans in even closer, thumb teasing your lower lip until your mouth parts slightly.

Your hands grip tighter in his shirt when he brushes his mouth over yours, feather-light. A faint kiss at the corner of your mouth, the soft graze of his lips to the other corner, another light kiss. Careful, gentle kisses pecked across your mouth, then the fleeting drag of his tongue on your lower lip.

You gasp against his mouth at the feeling, and he leans in closer, kissing you properly. Each kiss is a long, slow draw, the pressure of his mouth firmer and firmer.

A little noise escapes the back of your throat when his tongue delves carefully into your mouth and back out. He hums, quiet and appreciative. His hands glide from your jaw into your hair as he kisses you, cupping the base of your skull, the nape of your neck, keeping you in place.

He tilts his head slightly and latches his mouth over your upper lip. A shiver wracks through you as his tongue draws along it, tracing your Cupid’s bow with the tip of his tongue before flicking over it gently, back and forth, then in tight circles. Your whole body flushes with blistering heat at the implication, a whimper lodging in your throat. You try to muffle the noise by closing your mouth over his lower lip, pulling on it with awkward suction.

A low groan resonates in his chest. He seals his mouth over yours again, licking hungrily into you. It’s a little different than when he’s used his tongue before. More curious, exploratory. Slow, purposeful strokes of his tongue deep into your mouth, in and out.

It occurs to you in an instant what he’s simulating. Your insides liquefy into boiling honey, raw want clawing through you as you moan shakily into his mouth. You lift your hands to his head, weaving your fingers into his hair and holding on for dear life. He moans at the pressure, tongue stroking along yours deliberately slowly, making you shiver.

He continues at a leisurely pace, pausing to nip and suck playfully at one lip or the other, until you lose all track of time, your mind hazy with need. If it’s anything like this, anything at all, then you want it ten thousand times more now. When he thrusts his tongue into you again, you suck at it shyly, and something like a growl vibrates in his chest. He pulls you even closer, grinding his mouth over yours, tongue probing deeper with each thrust, drawing little moans from you.

When he finally wrenches his mouth from yours, you’re both panting. You gaze at him, chest heaving.

Seungyoun looks ravenous with want. Eyes dark, locked in on you, like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. His lips are swollen from going to work on you.

“So can I try that sometime?” He asks, hoarse.

You want him to try it now. Something. Anything. You’re aching, dazed half-stupid by the kiss and what it implied. To your mortification, only a whimper leaves your throat when you try to respond.

He seems to understand, because his hands go to your hips and yank you closer, knee nudging between yours, giving you the pressure of his leg against where you ache. You sob in relief, and he swallows the sound, crushing his mouth over yours and kissing you like he won’t get the chance again.

You kiss him back desperately, moaning into his mouth when his hand tightens on your hip and drags you hard along his thigh. After so long with nothing, the sensation is exquisite. You copy the movement without assistance, and you feel the rock-solid evidence that he’s affected too against your hip.

His tongue dragging against yours reminds you why you’re this worked up in the first place.

“Please, Seungyoun, just—” you whimper against his lips. “Your mouth, I…please—”

Seungyoun immediately rolls you onto your back, kissing an urgent path down your body, his mouth hot on you even through the fabric of your shirt.

His fingers curl in the waistband of your sweatpants, backs of his knuckles brushing against your skin. He looks up at you.

“Sure?” He asks.

You nod vigorously, panting.

A couple of rushed yanks, and your sweatpants are at your ankles. You kick them off as Seungyoun braces his hands on your knees, fingers inching towards your inner thighs. He looks at you questioningly.

“Still good?”

You squirm, impatient. “Yes, just—”

He parts your legs, guiding you to rest a knee over his shoulder. He turns his head and presses a kiss just above your knee, sending a bolt like white-hot electricity over your skin.

He trails searing kisses up your thigh while his hand coasts up the other, making your hips jolt when the tip of his thumb grazes over the seat of your underwear. You whine when he draws the pad of his thumb up and down, a firm pressure on the dampening fabric.

He looks up at you, the hot drift of his mouth on your leg intoxicating as he plays with you. He pinches some of the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, pulling lightly.

“Off?”

You groan, wriggling your hips. “I swear, stop asking and just do it, or—”

You squeak and jerk in surprise when Seungyoun bites at your inner thigh, a little flash of pleasurable pain.

“Don’t be a brat,” he murmurs against your skin.

You swallow hard, muscles suddenly weak as jelly. “…Fine. Yes, off.”

He eases your leg from his shoulder and sits up to remove your underwear. A sudden wave of nerves hits you unbidden as the fabric slips down over your knees. You’ve never been exposed like this to anyone before. Your legs snap shut of their own accord, tucking your knees closer to you as you purse your lips, feeling timid and ashamed.

Seungyoun immediately senses the shift. “Do we need to stop?”

Panic that this could be where it ends bubbles up in you. You immediately shake your head. “No. No, I-I just…”

You wet your lips. “I’m the only one taking clothes off.”

Understanding dawns in his face, and then he gives you a Look.

“Is this your way of asking to see my tattoos?”

You blink at him innocently, shaking your head. “It’s not.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You nibble your lip. “It’s…mostly not.”

He grins, grabbing the scruff of his shirt and yanking it over his head.

You’ll never understand how you attracted someone as gorgeous as him. You bite your lip harder, admiring the contours of his muscles, the contrast of ink on his skin. The barrel of the gun tattoo disappearing into his waistband sends an acute wave of lust through you. A noise embarrassingly like a purr hums in the back of your throat before you can stop it.

He dips back down and kisses low on your stomach where your shirt has ridden up. You can feel the smile he’s hiding against your skin.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you groan.

“I’m not,” he mumbles into your skin, the scrape of his teeth dragging gently at your hip. “You’re just cute.”

You grumble a little as Seungyoun slowly eases your legs back open, kissing along your thigh.

“So fucking cute,” he whispers when you shiver at the sensation.

Your mouth is dry, every nerve in your body aching for more of his touch.

“Please,” you whisper.

There’s a burning hunger in Seungyoun’s eyes when he looks at you, lips dragging softly up your leg.

“Want my mouth on you, love?”

You whine, nodding.

His eyes are dark, glittering. “Show me where.”

“You know where,” you groan, exasperation mixing with your desperation.

A little smile crooks in the corner of his mouth. “Show me anyway?”

You scowl at him, but he merely grins and shrugs, continuing to press soft kisses into your inner thigh.

Oh, help, you’re really doing this. You take a slow, shaky breath, shutting your eyes, and move your hand between your legs. Embarrassment prickles over your skin as you part yourself with a couple of fingers.

A deep groan punches out of Seungyoun’s throat, vibrating against the crook between your leg and body. “Perfect, baby.”

And then he mouths over you slowly, a hand hooking beneath your knee, keeping you spread open. Your head drops back, mouth open in a silent moan, panting hard as he presses kisses into your aching skin.

Your hand falls away as his mouth slides up, soft and hot, to the cusp of your sex. “Oh.”

A noise rumbles in his chest, and the vibrations against your clit make you squeak. Your fingers sink into his hair, clutching desperately, as the flat of his tongue catches just beneath the throbbing spot.

Oh, my. His mouth on your mouth could never have prepared you for this. Nothing could have. Your whole body feels feverish, set aflame as his tongue drags in curious, erotic patterns over you. You look down at him in time to see his eyes rolling shut as he licks over you, his hips rocking hard into the mattress. Your stomach tightens in pleasure, the sight of him enjoying this so much affecting you. That ever-more-familiar ache grows, stoked higher and higher under the melting heat of his mouth.

His mouth slides down, tongue searching wetly, and finds the entrance into your body. You gasp out as he nuzzles into you, the velvet stroke of his tongue sinking inside.

“Oh,” you sob, fingers fisting in his hair. “Oh, please, that’s so—”

You cut off with a cry as the tip of his nose nudges against the underside of your clit. So many blissful sensations, all at once, and you feel that tension building towards a height you’ve never experienced before.

Helpless to stop, your hips rock you against his mouth. He coaxes your leg over his shoulder and slides his arm over your hips, brief glimpse of the frowning and smiling face tattoos on his wrist before he pins you back down. You whimper, pitch rising higher and higher as he continues tongue-fucking you like it’s all he’s ever wanted, his hips grinding hard in tandem with the rhythm of his mouth.

He’s moaning into you like he can’t help himself, and you squeal as his mouth slides back up and covers your clit, sucking. You feel your limbs trembling, fingers tightening in his hair, hear yourself babbling as the pleasure gathers to a pinpoint.

“Please don’t stop, don’t stop, so close, please don’t stop Seungyoun, pleasepleaseplease—”

Seungyoun groans, sucks a little harder, tongue twisting perfectly, and your vision goes white. Unfathomable euphoria bursts through you as the tension breaks in hard, pulsing waves, and you let them carry you.  You feel your hips undulating in helpless shudders against his hold, hear yourself gasping breathless moans, before you collapse back into the mattress, boneless. Seungyoun’s mouth eases you from ecstasy to relaxation, hand easing from beneath your knee and rubbing your leg soothingly.

When you look down at him, he’s gazing up at you like you’re a miracle, lips swollen and glistening in you. A corner of your mouth pulls into a weary, fond smile. You stroke your fingers through his hair gently, combing out the mess you made of it.

He moves back up and gathers you to him, mouth covering yours softly. The tang of you is odd and unfamiliar to taste in his mouth, but you love how sincerely he kisses it into you.

“That,” he mumbles against your mouth, “might be the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You lean back and burst into giggles. “To you?”

He nods, looking entirely like he means it, and you snort.

“I’ve never come like that before,” he says, the admission tingeing his ears pink.

You blink, eyes blowing wide in surprise. “I—you…?”

His whole face is on fire now. He buries his face against your shoulder, whining, “you were so cute, you sounded so hot, how was I supposed to help it?”

“Oh my god.” You can’t stop smiling, shocked. Well. There go your plans to ask about returning the favor. “…Simp.”

“Hey,” he laughs, and you chuckle.

He leans back, examining you more closely. “That was okay? No crossed lines or anything?”

You shake your head quickly. “No, no, that was….well, great.”

“Nothing bothered you? Need something else next time?”

“Oh my god,” you mutter, smiling in utter disbelief. “Next time.”

He raises an eyebrow, corner of his mouth curling. “Next time can be whenever you want. For example…”

“Wha—I—Seungyoun,” you gasp, bursting into surprised laughter as he dips his head and begins kissing down your body again.

You can feel the curve of his grin through your shirt, pressed right over your heart.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

March Creator of the Month: Bayleedraws-sometimesx

Each month, CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers or artists, and this month’s creator of the month is the lovely @bayleedraws-sometimesx!  The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page. Past COTM's can be found here. Center photo by the lovely @bayleedraws-sometimesx!

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog

How do you want to be known on Tumblr? 

Baylee

More below...

When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played? 

I think it was in 2018, and I first played Bloodbound 1. 

When and why did you join Choices fandom?

It was December 2020. I was really struggling at that point; my whole life had changed, and I still hadn't come to terms with it after a year. It was just an escape. 

How did you pick your blog name? 

It’s just my name and what I do. 

Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!  

It’s just a pfp i did over halloween. It’d me dressed like Sally from Nightmare before Christmas. 

Do you write fanfiction, create fan art, or are you one of those really gifted people who do both? 

I used to want to be a writer. I really love writing stories, I’ve never really written any fanfiction, but technically, I can draw and write. 

How long have you been creating for Choices and for any other fandoms?

It’ll be four years in December since I’ve been creating Choices-related stuff, but ever since I was a little kid, I’d get obsessed with different shows/ characters and write/ draw them. 

What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to create for?

My favourite book is definitely Bloodbound. I love drawing BB related stuff because I have a slight obsession with Kamiliah 

Share your first Choices fanfic or fan art that you posted with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were creating it today?

It was a drawing I did for @ao719. I think I would change a lot if I were to draw it now. I don’t really like it anymore, and my style has definitely changed over the years.  I find it really embarrassing looking back at old drawings. 

What is your favorite piece of fiction or art that you created? 

A BB animation (I still haven't finished), but it was really fun writing the story and designing/ drawing everything. 

Do you have a creation that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to do well but found it could use a little more love?

I never expected any animations to do well and was very surprised when they did. I’m really sure that I would like to get more attention. 

If you could only draw one style or type of art for the rest of your life, what would it be and why? 

I don't know. I’m moving into my own flat soon, so I’ve been drawing some scenery pieces I’m going to put up once I’m there. I find them really therapeutic to draw, so maybe that. 

Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs?

Sometimes. 

What element of art do you struggle with most?

Probably finishing the pieces off. By that point I’ve stared at it for so many hours that all I can see are  the problems with it. 

Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Absolutely, I’m going through a lot right now so there’s quite a lot of things that i really do want to finish but i just dont have the motivation. 

If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to see your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you show them first? 

Maybe. My big brother taught me how to draw, so occasionally, I’ll let him look at some of my drawings. 

16 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing or art? Are there any artists that influence you?

I can’t think of anyone published that I looked up to or have really inspired my artwork. There’s definitely people that i know in my life that have. 

Which one of your creations would you like to see fiction written about? 

I have absolutely no idea lol 

Do you write original fiction or create non-fandom art? 

Yeah, I love creating new characters and really animations doing animations of my original characters.

What other hobbies do you have?

A lot of crafty things. I was taught how to sew, knit, and crochet as a kid, and those are things I still enjoy doing now. 

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Hello I’m sorta new to ur blog and I would like to request an emergency request!

I don’t really know how it works so if there’s something I didn’t or did do wrong please ignore this!

I’ve recently caught myself having suicidal thoughts since I really do not like the pain of losing a loved one and think it’s better dying then ever experiencing it again. It sounds selfish but I can’t help thinking about it. It’s weird since for me the feeling of losing someone is way more strong then I think it is for other people and I know people around me will feel sad about me being gone but I tell myself what’s the point if I’m dead anyway. It’s a very selfish and selfless way of thinking and I know that, if you do not feel comfortable with this. Again please ignore this,

But how would law and sanji react to their fem! Partner having these thoughts?

Thank you and have an amazing day:)

First things first, let me say that my heart goes out to you. Second thing, please, please, please go see someone and get some help. I know it's probably hard or perhaps not what you want to hear, but please.

Warnings: suicidal thoughts, emergency request, mentions of death

Word Count: 1405

     They were gone. How could they be gone? How could they be… how could they be dead? Feeling the tears run down your cheeks, you curled your fingers in your hair. Part of you knew that death was part of the job. It came with being a pirate, but to be honest, you’d never actually, truly thought about it. Something that was in the back of your mind but never something that was really real. You just wanted to die; better to die than to experience somebody else dying, right? Better to end things than to have to experience this pain again. Worse yet, watching everyone else go about doing things, it felt like you were the only one mourning. Did they not feel their death? They looked sad, but how could they just continue to go about their lives? Continue to work like they were? You didn’t even hear the door open, didn’t notice your partner looking at you with such sympathy and sadness. He’d noticed your change in mood, in attitude, and it had worried him a little, but now seeing you curled up on the floor, he was more worried than ever. 

Sanji

     The blond walked over to you, sitting down next to you before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you out of your thoughts as he carefully maneuvered you into his lap.

     “I’ve been looking for you, ma cherie. Why are you hiding such beauty away in here?” he asked softly, placing one hand on the back of your head, stroking your head as he pressed your head against his chest to listen to his heart. All you could do was shake your head as the tears turned into full sobs. His arms wrapped tighter around you, trying to make out your words through your bawling. Finally making out what you were saying caused his heart to break. You were in so much pain. He wouldn’t lie and say that he was unaffected, but seeing how hard it was hitting you, he wished that he was more affected so that you would be less affected; to take away your pain, even if it meant taking it on himself. It reminded him of when he lost his mother, the pain stabbing at his heart, bleeding his young heart dry. 

     His lips met your forehead as he cradled you close, cooing gently as he tried to comfort you. Admittedly, he felt a little bad that he hadn’t noticed the severity sooner, but he also thanked the heavens that he noticed it when he did; noticed it before things went too far. 

     “It’ll be okay, mon amour, I’m here, I’ll stay here by your side and help you get through this, okay? I know it hurts, but please, please don’t… don’t do… that. I couldn’t live without you, you’re my entire world. Whatever you need, I’ll get it for you, just… please, I… don’t do that. And remember, I’m always here. You can come to me anytime, whatever you need. Please just… stay, for me?” he pleaded, tears starting to make their way down his cheeks. He didn’t want to make you feel worse, but it hurt him so much that you were even considering such a thing. You were his everything, his light, his love, he couldn’t bear to be without you. 

     “Please, please, please… don’t… don’t do anything, don’t leave me. You can call me selfish if you want, let me be the selfish one and ask you to stay. You… you’re too sweet, too kind, to be selfish like that. So let me be the selfish one and ask you to never leave my side.” He pleaded, nuzzling his face into the top of your head. Clutching his shirt as if your life depended on it, you could only nod, still sobbing. He didn’t know how long he stayed with you like that, only that Luffy had started screaming for him about lunch. Glancing down at you, his brow furrowed. You’d cried yourself to sleep. Carefully picking you up, he moved you to his bed before storming out to his captain.

     “Luffy! Shut up! Y/n is sleeping and I don’t need you waking her up. I swear, if you wake her up, I’ll throw all the meat on the Sunny over the side of the ship!” Sanji threatened, making the boy’s eyes widen and nod. Sighing, he paused, “She’s taking this hard, just… let me take care of her for a little while. Just until she’s better.” Sanji requested, watching as his captain nodded again. He’d be there for you as long as you needed, anything to make sure you were okay.

Law

     Being a doctor and being your partner always, always made things hard for him. When did he draw the line? Where did he stop and go “I’m a doctor and you need to take these meds”? At what point should he stop holding you close and instead get you a therapist? Standing here in front of you, he pondered this even more. Should he approach you as your partner or your doctor? Doctor or partner, doctor or partner? Taking a deep breath, he picked you up, drawing a surprised gasp as he ‘shambles’ed you both to his room, laying down on his bed with you and holding you close.

     “If you needed to cry, you should have come to me.” Law said awkwardly, running his hand up and down your back, letting you cling to him. You were silent for a moment, not entirely sure what you should say. Finally you mumbled out what was wrong, the words muffled in his chest. His brow furrowed, his hand on your back halting for a moment. Doctor or partner, doctor or partner? 

     “You… I want… I want you to see someone about this… I need to know if you need to be medicated long term for depression.” he said after a minute. He was your partner, but he was also a doctor. This would be the best option for both sides. As a doctor, he wanted what was best for your health, as your partner, he wanted you to be okay. This would help you be okay… right? Laying there, the man grew nervous by your silence. Were you mad at him for suggesting it? Were you going to turn him down? Or worse, close yourself off? Finally, thankfully, you nodded. He was a doctor, he loved you, he’d know what was best for you, right? Sure, you wanted to die, but… but Law knew what to do, right? The man sighed in relief, his arms wrapping tighter around you, muttering quiet ‘thank you’s. Fuck, you’d scared him. He couldn’t lose you. He’d lost enough, he couldn’t lose you too, least of all to this, not like this. His family to the World Government, Cora-san to Doflamingo, he couldn’t lose you, not like that.

      He couldn’t help but relax ever so slightly, relieved that you listened. You’d be okay, you’d get help and you’d be okay. He’d keep a close eye on you and you’d be okay, he’d make sure of it. It would take a while, he knew it would take a while, but you would be okay. Okay, he didn’t actually know that for certain, but with as scared as he was, he needed to tell himself that, he needed that reassurance that you wouldn’t leave him. Just like you, he couldn’t experience that again. Too many times had he seen that, he couldn’t do it again. Cuddling you closer, he breathed in your scent, as if trying to memorize it, as if he was still going to lose you. It was only now that you realized how much he was trembling, the realization dawning on you. He couldn’t lose anyone else again, just like you, he’d rather die than experience that again. It made you wonder how he did it. How did he deal with the crushing weight of knowing he could lose his entire crew yet stay so strong? Maybe… Maybe you could find out; maybe, if you stayed, you could find out and you could be like him, be strong like him. Slowly, your breathing steadied, evening out as you dozed off. Almost as soon as you were asleep, Law was letting the others know to head for the nearest island. He’d get you help asap, because he really couldn’t lose you too.

[quokkawritesarchive]

DATING JISUNG AS AN ASEXUAL.

a/n: surprise surprise! random confession of the day: i am ace and have zero sexual experience, so everything that i’ve written is just my pure imagination or based on porn. to be honest, i’ve been struggling a lot with my asexuality again after i created this blog. this is why i thought that it’s time to write something realistic (lol), as if i am actually gonna date jisung. let me be delulu for a second.

sex doesn’t make a relationship more real. that’s what you’ve been telling yourself ever since you came out as asexual. even though you were comfortable with your sexuality by that time, you were still extremely anxious about coming out to your possible future partners. especially when your possible future partner could be han jisung of all people. you two were still in a talking stage when you decided that it’s time to tell him before it got too serious. as expected, he didn’t know how to act. he had never met an asexual person before, so he was lost and confused. you knew that there was a possibility that he would stop contacting you, but you still told him anyway and gave time to process the new information.

jisung did not take long to come in contact with you again. you were stressing for a whole week, but when you finally saw a message from him your face lit up. he was asking you on another date. jisung being jisung had spent whole week researching asexuality. he had read every possible article and watched so many videos just so he could understand you better. he really got a crush on you. you appeared to be the first even person who made him the happiest person on earth, always making him smile, and he felt so safe with you. jisung loved you, he did not want to lose you and that’s all that mattered at that moment. you started dating.

at first, jisung thought he would struggle without having sex, but honestly, it worked out better than he expected. with his busy schedule, he had no time to even think about sex. of course it was a different story when he was spending days and nights with you. it took him some time to get used to it and discover different ways of self-pleasure. besides, if you were in the mood, you actually helped him jerk off.

once that was settled, you realized how perfect of a boyfriend jisung is. he always takes care of you and makes sure you feel comfortable. he kisses you on the forehead before you go to sleep, and then plays with your hair. when you are apart, he texts a lot; he misses you every day, thinking about cuddling with you while falling asleep. jisung’s first task of the day is to send you a voice message telling you how much he loves you. that raspy sleepy voice makes you miss him even more and wish you could wake up next to him every day.

and since kisses are allowed, be prepared to receive tons of it during the day. jisung stares at your lips shamelessly, when you are talking to him, making you blush. even when you are dating, he is still rizzing you up, making you giggle at his stupid pick-up lines. oh yeah, and jisung definetely does the triangle method before kissing you. he also loves giving you a lot of neck kisses and always tries to leave a mark on your skin.

jisung always lets you wear his clothes because you just look so so cute in them. when you return the clothes, he doesn’t wash them, so he could smell your scent.

back hugs! oh, jisung loves back hugs! he uses every chance to get you in his embrace and doesn’t let you go, even if you ask him. “just one more minute, baby. you are so soft, you know that?”.

jisung does the best dates and always tries to impress you. he would actually go out in public, just so you could visit new places together.

jisung is so shy when you give him affection. he melts under your touch, pink blush appears on his puffy cheeks afterwards. and he always giggles when you take pictures of him. “jagiiiii, i don’t even look good right now! stop taking pictures, you are making me blush so much!”

you would have never imagined how perfect jisung is as a boyfriend. he makes you feel like you are the most important person in his life. he knows how often you doubt yourself and think of yourself as a “bad girlfriend” because you don’t want to have sex; but he always lets you know that he loves you the way you are and sex is not everything in a relationship.

[thelightsandtheroses]

Secret Smile: Tangled Webs (Chapter Four)

Secret Smile | Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Before returning to Colombia to get things right this time, Javi’s childhood best friend asks him to keep an eye out for his sister while they’re both stationed in the embassy. Only you don’t need Javier to keep an eye you her. Your role as a new legal advisor is all about keeping an eye on him after all. Sparks fly, lines will be drawn and broken and there’s everything to lose.

Word Count: 2.7k Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog, language, reader has a nickname (Blue) but no physical descriptors used Author Notes: As always, thank you for all your feedback, likes and reblogs so far – it means a lot and I’m having so much fun writing this fic. I’d love to know what you think of this next chapter so please feel free to comment, reblog or even send an ask!

Previous | Series List | Next

“Did you hear about the senators?” Javi asks you as you slide his office door shut behind you and immediately make a beeline for the black leather couch.

“I did,” you say, taking a long gulp of coffee and then trying to mask your scowl. Instant. Not your favourite. It’s better than nothing, or at least that’s what you’re trying to convince yourself. If you’re tired enough and add enough milk and sugar then it’s almost palatable. It’s better than the coffee at your last office at least, not that that is a particularly high bar. You’re not sure it could even legally be classed as coffee at your last office.

After you impulsively turned up at his apartment, Javi and you have started to work out a tentative peace. Maybe he’s realised that you want real justice too, that you also need to bring these people to account. You want to help him do this the right way.

The two of you spent part of the evening brainstorming ways to move the case forward, trying to find a route that wouldn’t directly compromise the surrender agreement in progress yet, but would allow Javi to pursue real consequences.

Money.

No matter how much you try, it eventually will leave a trail. You’d been told by a colleague about a banking glitch abroad that led to right here in Bogota. This might be the lucky break that could help Javi right now. The two of you have agreed that Javi should use this to obtain the data he needs on who is behind the money for the cartel. If he gets this, it will help him solidify the case and get some strong evidence too.

“So, the Clinton list? You’re going ahead with that option?” you ask. It’s the simplest way to get the bank to work with Javi and technically it’s by the book.

“I’ve already asked Stoddard to get onto that,” Javi says.

“Okay, so now you’re just showing off that you have a team.”

Javi tilts his head before asking with an innocent voice, “Oh, do you not?”

You finish crumpling up a piece of paper and throw it at him. He catches it, cocking an eyebrow with a mischievous expression.

“Really, resorting to violence now, are we, Blue? Assaulting an attaché?”

“Only people from home have ever called me that,” you say softly, “it’s kind of weird hearing it again.”

“Does it bother you then?”

“No … it’s nice, I think.”

“Do you miss Laredo?” he asks, a strange expression on his face.

“I don’t know. Sometimes. Maybe a little, but not as much as I think I should. I miss some of the people; my friends, Sofia, Rafa, my parents. I just don’t - I don’t know, I always wanted to get out and be in a city or a new place, to explore and not be in a small town. Do you know what I mean?”

“I’m the same.” He pauses and looks ahead with a thoughtful expression.

“It’s kind of weird though, that we’re both here at the same time” you add, ”I have a friend who is really into fate and superstitions and horoscopes -“

Javi snorts at the mention of horoscopes and you shake your head at him.

“Anyway, she talks a lot about kismet - fate and destiny and all that. Maybe that’s why we’re both here. We can stop Cali together.”

“That would be nice.”

There’s a strange tension in the air for a minute, Javi’s staring at you like he’s never seen you before and his expression is otherwise unreadable.

He exhales deeply and then says, “I’m meeting the bank as soon as I’m done with the senators and the bank already know what I’m coming with so they should have something for me when I get there.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got a contact; they might know whoever the money person is. Tomorrow - tomorrow we get them.”

“Good. And what about your agents you authorised to go to Cali, without uh - any approval? Thanks for that by the way, loved the grilling from the ambassador. He was so incensed he didn’t even wait until 9am to summon me.”

“They’re heading out this morning. Feistl got a warrant ready, just in case,” Javi says. “I’m still not sure if we can trust - it’s worth a try though.”

“That’s good, I’m glad he got the warrant.” That makes your job easier, you think, less likely to cause another drama with the ambassador. If their visit does turn up something, they’re prepared and with a warrant ready they can quickly act. You’re learning that timing is everything for the DEA.

“I’ll be reminding them when we speak- everything by the book,” he says with a wry smile.

“Good. Do you think you can trust the local police?”

“I don’t think I can trust anybody, Blue.”

“Even me?” you ask, hurt permeating your voice. You look down at the floor in embarrassment.

Javi trusts a local journalist more than he trusts you at the moment. He’s supposed to know you. He’s known you for years.

“I want to,” he says quietly. “Do you trust me?”

You pause, exhaling heavily. “I want to as well.”

Javi’s office falls silent. You can hear the muffled hum of noise around the glass walls, people arriving for their day of work.

“Are you going to the big meeting then when they arrive?”

Javi pulls a face. “I have to. You?”

“Oh, no. That’s for the extra special boys’ club, Javi, I’m not invited to that.” You don’t mean to sound bitter; you’re not even surprised and your job is far less glamorous sounding than Javi’s anyway. Accountability and legal motions aren’t the sexiest of discussion topics.

“Count yourself lucky. Besides, it’s their loss. You’re smarter than Stechner and Crosby.”

“Why, that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” you say with an overly sweet voice, watching Javi roll his eyes in response.

“Don’t get used to it,” Javi says, a lopsided smirk on his face.

The damn phone has no signal out here.

Javi had a plan. Get Jurado, make his case, do it by the book. The plane was ready, he was ready. Then Stechner came along, those stupid VIP guests came along.

Now he’s sweating through his shirt in the middle of the jungle in uncomfortable shoes and desperate for a cigarette.

Fuck the gum.

No one could have endured that helicopter flight, had to deal with damn idiots trying to talk over the headphones and helicopter noise, without needing a cigarette.

Besides quitting smoking was meant to be a signal. The new and improved Javier Peña, getting it right this time and taking down a cartel. Only the past can’t be ignored. No one will let him forget; they rarely explicitly accuse him, but too many people know what Javi did. Too many people still judge him for that, even Captain Hernandez.

Javi told Steve once that sometimes you had to do bad things to catch bad people.

Maybe he was wrong.

Maybe he’s only made things worse.

He just can’t seem to get it right.

Javi breaks from his reverie, holds his phone up one more time.

Javi has no idea what’s happening with Feistl and Van Ness, no clue whether Stoddard has been able to get anywhere with Panama. He’s not sure if you’re helping. He’s still not sure if he can trust you, as much as he wants to.

Javi can’t be here.

He can’t be part of this charade; play the role of a hero, pretend that this isn’t a giant set-up. What’s Stechner thinking with this?

Javi hears a noise, looks around and sees the army liaison who Stechner had introduced to the senators earlier.

Javi looks exhausted when you finally see him again.  More than that, he’s more visibly frustrated and annoyed than you’ve ever seen him before.

Linda had told you that the senators had insisted he join them on their visit, whether he wanted to or not. You knew how much Javi had prepared for the day. The senators wanted to hear from a ‘real life hero’ though and they could control the DEA’s money for this mission. You can only imagine how delighted Javi had been with the whole sorry mess.

You hadn’t quite expected him to return like this though.

When he left the office in the morning, he had been focused, motivated, and smartly dressed.  Now, you notice his shoes are covered in dirt and mud; that they look ruined. The difference isn’t just his clothes, there’s something changed in his eyes, something you can’t identify but you know that don’t want to ever see in him again.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? You really went on a day trip to the rainforest in your best shoes?” you ask sweetly. “The attaché salaries must be even better than I thought.”

“Don’t. Don’t even fucking go there, Blue.”

“I’m trying really hard to take your threat seriously, but Javi have you looked at yourself?”

Javi stands up straight. “You heard then? I was meant to go to fucking Panama, had the plane and everything ready.”

“The senators and Stechner had other ideas, I’m afraid.”

“It was a goddamn joke, Blue.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a setup. Nothing was real - just a show, like this whole damn thing is. This - this is all bullshit.”

You’re not sure how to reply to that and instead awkwardly fidget with the paper file you were organising.

“Stoddard said it didn’t go anywhere with Jurado.” Javi’s whole body sinks into the office chair next to your desk and he pinches his brow.

“Nope,” he says, each syllable clearly pronounced.

“Shit.”

“Yep.”

“So, did Feistl and Van Ness come up with anything?” you ask, hoping that things aren’t entirely lost for Javi’s investigation.

“They did. The police are keeping it all though. They think there might be another angle, but fuck.” Javi shakes his head.

You lean against his desk and look down at the floor, trying to bring to mind some comforting words, the right thing to say. You don’t know what to do. There’s no simple solution here; no sudden legal clause or clever argument you can pull out to make everything better and get what you need back in evidence or convince a jury. This is all so different to what you are used to; a side of investigations and cases you’ve never seen before.

“So, where are we left?” you ask, thinking aloud. “Jurado’s not an option until we can find out where he is. We need to - maybe your guys will come up with something in Cali, in the paperwork. I’ll call the police in the morning, see if I can do anything to help us get some of the evidence.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“I think I’m a very convincing person, Javi.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are, Blue. Thing is, I’m not sure -” he pauses, leans back against the couch, “I don’t think we can trust the police contact Feistl and Van Ness are with. Not from what they’ve told me anyway.”

You think about his words, the small details you’ve heard from Stoddard today. “I think you’re right. They’re holding back on the evidence. Truthfully. they’re not going to work together with us easily. I mean, the rumour is the Rodriguez brothers own half of Cali anyway, right? It would make sense. We - your guys need to proceed with caution. There are things we can do, ways to protect this work and keep the case robust.”

You shake your head at his expression, place the paperwork file down on his desk. “We’ll sort it tomorrow; things will be better then.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, so don’t stay too late, Javi, it’s been a long day.”

“Wait, can I ask you a question?”

“If I was being mean, I’d say you just did,” you reply, folding your arms around you.

“Really, Blue? Okay, why don’t you want people to know we knew each other before the job? Is it me or -” Javi trails off and you wonder what happened during the trip to the jungle that prompted this.

You meet Javi’s gaze to try and read his expression. He looks almost guilty, as though he thinks you’re ashamed of knowing him. That doesn’t make sense because he’s Javi; he’s the hero of the DEA according to almost everyone. Stechner’s words and insinuations echo in your mind, the hints at what Javi may have done before, how desperate he was to get Escobar. Part of you doesn’t blame him for wanting to pursue justice - you can understand that desire, even if you don’t agree with what he was rumoured to have done.

If the rumours are true, it explains a lot about Javi now.

“No, it’s not you,” you say, taking a deep breath before you continue, “It’s the situation. It’s messy. I was technically recommended for this job by a friend and it is bad enough that the ambassador knows that. If it got around that you are my brother’s best friend? I got this job on my own merits and I-”

“Woah, woah, I didn’t say anything about how you got this job. I don’t even know how you got this job. Frankly I didn’t know there even was a job until you turned up.“

“I really thought you hated me for that.”

“Not you, Blue. Don’t hate you.”

“You wouldn’t have had to say anything about me getting this job. People make assumptions all the time. I’ve dealt with it my whole career, especially as I moved up, and I just wanted here to be different.” You needed here to be different. After everything that had went down in DC, this job was supposed to be a fresh start, an escape from everything you’d run away from. Only you’re rapidly wondering if you’ve jumped from the frying pan into the fire instead.

“I can understand that,” Javi finally says softly.

“It’s that one time that it really is me and not you,” you add with a grin.

“So, Blue, am I really Rafael’s best friend?” Javi asks with a crooked smile.

“If you ever tell him I told you that, I will kill you.”

“Promises, promises.”

You shake your head and look at Javi for a moment before saying, “I really should go, Javi. See you tomorrow.”

Stoddard knocks on the glass door and you quickly move off Javi’s desk, cross your arms as he walks over to his desk and waves Stoddard in.

“Sir, we may have a problem. Feistl and Van Ness weren’t on their flight back.”

“Fuck.”

You look at Javi’s alarmed face and take a slow breath.

“Okay, have you tried to call them, Stoddard? No, then go do that!” Javi says.

”Maybe - maybe they caught a lead, Agent Peña. I can call someone at Cali, see if we can subtly make enquiries,” you say softly.

Javi nods and you hear him firmly instructing Stoddard on exactly what to do.

“Guess we’re not heading back right now then,” you say once it’s just the two of you in his office, both of you standing by his desk.

“Fucking Feistl,” Javi says, leaning his hands against the edge of the desk so you can see the hint of strained shoulder muscles beneath his shirt.

“You chose him to go to Cali,” you say lightly.

Javi sighs, stands up straight as he pinches his brow. “Technically he was just the only one who asked.”

“Oh, that’s brilliant, Javi.”

“Hey, at he least showed some initiative.”

“Wonderful. Perhaps he’s showing that initiative now.”

“Go home, it’s late. I’ll clean up here, stay and see if they call.”

“Javi -”

“This part is my job, Blue, not yours. I’ve got it covered.”

“Okay. Promise you’ll call if you need anything? You have my phone and my pager, right?”

You squeeze Javi’s shoulder as you make a move to pick up your handbag, watch him start to organise the papers strewn on his desk.

Before you can leave the office, Javi’s office phone rings. You meet his eyes as he quickly answers.

“Peña,” he says. You carefully try and read his reaction, try to notice the way his face slightly relaxes before he asks, “Where the fuck have you been?”

When he hangs up the phone, he looks up at you with a smile.

“You were right.”

“I often am,” you joke breezily, “So, what was I right about?”

”They caught a lead.”

You smile broadly. “Oh, really?”

“We can get Gilberto Rodriguez. They found him.”

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[wellntruly]

Blogging, vol. v

I’m having surgery tomorrow. Why this is always happening in November is beyond me, but it sure is an aesthetically kind month to not work and be extra-grade cozy in soft knits, sipping soups, while outside it rains grey on amber.

Unlike my gum surgery last year, this one I had no idea was coming for me, and the weeks getting up to the point of finally knowing what was going to happen were, not to exaggerate, not good. It's odd that it's better now, since it was indeed something you don't want to find. But then you can start to process. Process, process.

I actually tend to do quite well with surgery, both as a concept and a thing to heal from, even before I spent my recovery from the previous one watching a 50 year old TV show about surgeons. I find the kind of pain engendered by things you need stitches about to be quite reasonable mentally; it hurts, it hurts there, for this reason, you have pills to dull it, and it will gradually heal. Simply “feeling sick,” or worst of all nauseous, that’s what can make me wonder what it’s all even for. Miserable, derogatory.

So the fact that it really seems a predominantly surgical approach is going to be most of what we need to take care of this problem has me almost overwhelmed with gratitude. It could have been far, far worse for me. But I have all the most treatable metrics for this, even being rather young for it has the silver lining of meaning I should heal well. And I’m so lucky to have a warm, funny, exceptionally skilled surgeon who actually went through the same thing when she was also my age, and that honestly, I’ve absolutely the Edward Gorey illustration body type to probably even end up looking pretty chic going down to just a bit of an A cup, which is what she's going to be able to do, not to bury the lede. Surprise top surgery, is what I’ve been calling it, and thank you to the boys for the re-contextualizing dream that is the phrase ‘top surgery’, a concept of such positivity; life-affirming, life-saving.

It is a strange, swift-approaching change to reckon with though, impossible to avoid that. I've always tended to dress as if I don’t even have the actually, admittedly, great boobs that I've had up til now, but it is still the body I know. I’ll roll onto my stomach in bed and think, for one that I soon won’t be doing this at all again for a while, and that when I do, it’s going to feel different. Fascinating to consider.

I'm leaning into a sort of Orlando-like curiosity about it, this vague physical transformation just spontaneously befalling me in my adulthood. How will this be. What sort of opportunities might this actually grant. I’ll be endeavoring to hardly ever wear a bra again, I’ll tell you that for certain. Should I use this as the push to finally get a bespoke suit, soft and wide-legged, with a jacket that can fall in just a clean draped line from my shoulders? Will I be able to wear suspenders? I think about watching Margaret Qualley in The Stars At Noon this summer, how I watched her just drop a loose sundress over her bare body, entirely backless, and walk out the door. I think, of course, of "Keira Knightley Atonement," as my inspiration board folder is called.

I’ve also been thinking about this blog, what I think Tumblr user sashayed once called her secret public journal. Sometimes what I or others will post can break into the very real & personal, like this, for the benefit that comes from just releasing, sharing the large challenging things in our lives. I think about a long-time mutual who posted about some of the strangeness she felt during hospitalization for an accident, how recalling some of what she wrote about has brought me a feeling of solidarity in this.

But there’s also how I’ve actually been blogging about this for weeks and weeks, it’s just only been for me. Another kind of secret public journal. This butterfly coming out of a row of cocoons in a window: this was for how I was, fully insanely yes, watching A Zed & Two Noughts while I was wracked with anxiety over what might be going on with my body, but/and the idea of emerging after this surgery new and striking and light. This is self-explanatory. This tiny-chested witch vaulting skulls is “literally me” goals this time next October. This was actually exactly, exactly my vibe getting my biopsy, with the sweetest nurses.

And now at last it all comes together, the public and private journal, on the eve of really what we’re all waiting for, oh god me for sure: the return of painkiller diaries. Painkiller diaries is a lifestyle, actually, it’s an ethos. I let myself so wholly rest after my gum surgery last year that the rest of November was the happiest I’d been in years. Please, again. Return to cashmere convalescence. And would you look at this beautiful soup sippin' mug I’ve gotten since then:

Oh I think we’re ready.