#i'm just practing

[buckyalpine]

Bucky can’t stand you

Smuttay Smuttay. Imagine Bucky finding you to be the most infuriating person he's ever met in his entire life. He used to strongly believe you should never hit a woman. Being a man from the 40's, he believed that with his entire heart and soul because he was one of the few who hated the way some women were treated by their husbands.

That was until he met you.

God, he was ready to beat your ass.

"Didn't you say you'd never hit a woman" Sam snorted while Bucky's jaw ticked, having complained about you for half an hour straight while you went off the plan completely, taking the mission into your own hands.

"That's not a woman, that's the devil spawn" Bucky said incredulously, watching you make your way to the target with a flirty smirk on your face "How and why is she like this"

"Shut up" you hissed through the coms, your hips swaying as you walked away. "

You pissed him off and you made his cock hard.

You ran your mouth to no end and you made him leak.

You had such an attitude and he'd masturbated d to you more times than he could count.

He hated you.

He hated you so much.

"You're gonna screw this mission up if you keep acting like a desperate whore" Bucky growled as you slinked onto the targets lap, effortlessly pocketing the pen drive from his blazer while skimming your hands all over him. The man was none the wiser, groping your ass, the action making Bucky's blood pressure boil.

You whispered something in his ear before hopping off, throwing a wink over your shoulder before disappearing through the exit of the bar and into the getaway car, signaling to Sam and Bucky that you were successful.

He doesn't breathe a word to you until you were all a the safehouse, glaring at you the entire time while pouring himself a drink.

"Try not to kill each other, I'm going to bed" Sam threw his hands up in defeat, seeing as the both of you would never reach a truce. You shrugged, rolling your eyes at the soldier, making your way to your room instead. Bucky down the dark liquid that burned his throat before following you, his brooding figure brushing your back as you entered your room.

"There a problem Barnes?" You sassed, gasping when he gripped your hair and yanked you back, shoving you against the wall. His metal arm wrapped around your throat, squeezing the sides just enough to make your breaths lighter, his pupils dilated to 100.

"You have a real problem, you know that?" He growled lowly making your stomach flip, your pulse racing a the scent of his cologne when he stood so close to you.

"Yeah? And whats that" your attitude faltered as he pressed his chest against yours, his warm breath fanning on your face.

"You. Never. Listen. It's infuriating. So tell me. What should I do" It took everything in him not to push you down onto your knees, forcing your into submission for once. "You're a brat" He hissed, eyes growing wide when he could smell your arousal which you tried to hide, your thighs squeezing together giving you away.

"Fuck this" Bucky tossed you onto the bed, pulling out the switch blade he had in his pocket. Your dress was sliced off before you could blink, your lingerie torn off next.

"Bucky, what-

Before you could say anything else, he gripped your jaw, squeezing your cheeks together, making you pout with a needy whimper. He gave you a satisfied smirk, running the handle of the knife through your folds, gathering your slick before licking it clean off with a groan.

"M'gonna fuck you and you're gonna take it, then you're gonna thank your Sargent for fucking the brat out of you, understand?"

You nodded, yelping when he smacked your cheek, shaking his head.

"Use your words, kitten"

"Yes, Sargent" You whispered, your heart hammering out of your chest as he started to undress himself, his belt buckle hitting the floor. A new wave of arousal pooled between your legs as he stood naked before you, his cock standing tall and proud. He cocked an eye brow at the way you stared at him, practically drooling as he pumped his length a few times.

He crawled onto the bed, shoving your legs apart, flicking his cock through your folds and slamming into you without warning, making you take all of him at once.

You cried out in pleasure, your arms and legs wrapping around him to ground yourself some how, your cunt fluttering and struggling to accommodate for his girth.

"Buck-Sargent-too-s'too thick" You moaned as he drew his hips back and started to pound into you, snarling with pleasure at the feelings of your nails raking down his back. "SARGENT PLEASE"

"Thats right, beg your Sargent to stop baby, cry when I ruin you with my fat cock" He sat back on his heels, throwing your legs over his shoulders to get even deeper angle, your eyes rolling back until they nearly crossed. "Lookit you going all dumb on my cock baby, such a needy little pussy"

You didn't get a chance to respond, squeaking when he manhandled you till your face was pushed against the mattress with your ass in the air. He spanked your ass raw, shoving his cock back in, setting in a brutal pace.

"Always acting so sassy, making my dick so hard with those stupid skimpy outfits of yours. You're a little slut but you're my slut, understand kitten?"

"Y-Yes-yes-yes-so-good don'on god don't stop" You slurred out, as he rammed into your pussy, the headboard denting the wall with each thrust, slamming your hips back against him.

"That's it. Fucking take it, Nast little slut, sitting in any mans lap, now look at you, huh. Look whose cock you're crying over lil mama, tell me whose cock your all soaked for"

"Yours sargent! all for-you" You panted while his sinful fingers moved to rub your clit, his pace growing sloppy, blinding pleasure starting to consume you both.

"OH FUCKKK I'm gonna cum!!" You cried out, wailing into the sheets, the vulgar sounds of skin on skin carrying through the room. Bucky moaned, fucking you harder, his head thrown back feeling your pussy suck him in deeper.

"Cum, cum on my dick, c'mon baby, give it to me, thats it lil mama, milk my cock-shit-i'm cumming!" Bucky let out a guttural moan feeling you squeeze and pulse around his cock, stilling his hips as he throbbed ropes of his spend into you. You both collapsed onto the bed, blindly reaching for each other with out saying another word, letting soft kisses and cuddles throughout the night do the rest of the talking.

-

"Morning Sam-

"You both owe me money for therapy"

"Sam-

"You shut up before I pawn a piece of that arm"

"Sam-

"You went at it like rabbits"

"Sam-

"I think the bed almost broke into my room"

"Sam-

"I'm never calling you Sargent again, you've tainted the word for me"

"Sam-

"My ears have never been so violated"

Bucky smirked, wrapping his arm around your waist, holding you together. You giggled while Sam gagged in the background again (he 100% approves of you two together but he'll never tell Bucky that).

"Nasty fucks"

[txttletale]

you said that religion is actions and relations, not beliefs- would you be willing to elaborate and/or point to some reading? or like at least defining what "beliefs" means here?

sure. now i'm sure there's some much more recent scholarship on this but everything i think of this is fundamentally drawing on/extrapolating on the german ideology and gramsci's work--but the gist of it is that there is no (let us take an example) 'islam' that exists independent of its practicioners. this is a materialist (as opposed to idealist) stance on religion (& ideology more generally).

so what this means is that--sure, everything that comes under the umbrella of 'islam' does in fact share a few core concepts (the quran, the indivisbility of god, mohammad as a prophet)--but that attempts to make any sweeping generalized statement about the ideological content of islam are bound to fail because ultimately the islam of the iranian state apparatus & the islam of the taliban & the islam of muslim feminists in indonesia & the islam of the PLO & the islam of liberal arab-americans are all fundamentally different ideologically because they are shaped not by some eternal essence of islam but by the social circumstances and communities within which each of these groups is practing.

(want to be super clear that i am just using islam as an example here, the same can be applied to any religion in any place--christianity, for example, is not uniquely genocidal & colonial due to some inherent ideological content, which is why going through the bible to point out violence & slavery and being like 'see, this is what's wrong with christianity' is a futile exercise--christianity has been the religion of a genocidal & colonial ruling class across much of the globe, and so that practice of it of course takes on that character)

hence, for example, there's absolutely no contradiction between, say, the judaism of diaspora reform jews & that of the israeli state--the stark difference makes sense when you realize that they are not both informed ideologically by some inherent essence of judaism but by the historical context of centuries of persecution vs. decades of genocidal state building. no religion has an innate inextricable character--all character that a religion has is given to it when it becomes a social fact, and comes from the people who practice it and their material and power relations.

[luvingshidou]

I HATE MYSELF RN. I had a request about how bllk boys would react walking in on us like doing ballet stretches or doing ballet and like we haven't told them so they'd be surprised , and I was writing, and by accident I posted it wouldn't let me private it, and I deleted it. CUZ IM SLOW BUT anways here's ur request, anon!!! (I'm acc stupid pls forgive me😞😞💔💔💔💔)

MESMERISED.

bllk boy x fem! ballerina! reader

THANK U ANON ILY🫶🫶🫶😇😇😇 SORRY AGAINNN

established relationship

probs ooc

characters: rin itoshi, shidou ryusei & michael kaiser.

RIN ITOSHI

Rin was coming back from practice he was earlier than usual. He texted you saying that he was coming home early, but you didn't answer he figured you were just sleeping like you usually were. As soon he got to the house, he walked to the living room to find you mid stretch. Your ballet shoes on the floor beside you. Shit, how were you going to explain this to Rin.

"Rin, look, I'm sorry for not telling you—" You say you felt bad for keeping it a secret from him. Rin didn't say anything back but just stood there in suprise.

"Why??? Why didn't you tell me??? It's not like I was going to hate you for it." Rin finally says, a very, very slight frown on his face.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I actually haven't told anyone, I was scared people would make fun of me for ballet and doing ballet shows." You say it was true you were scared you get made fun of, so you ultimately kept it a secret.

"That's a stupid fucking reason, why would I make fun of you for ballet???" Rin looked down at you raising an eyebrow. You knew you should have told him sooner, but you were you'd always get nervous and pussy out of saying it to him. H

"I knowwww, I'm sorry." You say, frowning slightly. You felt guilty for not telling him. Really guilty.

"Just next time, let me see one of your ballet shows, alright???" He says, smiling slightly as he looked at you.

SHIDOU RYUSEI

Shidou was currently walking to your house. He was bored and wanted to hang out with you. As he walked to your house, he rang the doorbell but no answer, he rang the doorbell again but you still hadn't answered. Luckily, he may or may not have stolen your spare keys. He opened the door and called out to you.

"BABEEEEEEEE." He called out, but he was met with silence. He walked over to your living room to see you practing your positioning, headphones in which somehow blocked you from hearing him. You nearly felt soul leave your body when you saw him stood there.

"Ryu, what the fuck—" You say, but were immediately met with Shidou wrapping his arms around your waist, spinning you around.

"PRINCESSSS, YOU DIDN'T TELL ME YOU DID BALLET?!?!?" Shidou says, grinning as he continues to spin you around. He continues spinning you for another couple of second before he stops.

"Ryu— I was planning on telling you sometime, I was." You say, letting out a sigh. "I just didn't know how to tell you."

"Yeah, yeah, doesn't matter now!!! Ya know, you should have told meeee I could have cheered my baby on." He says, still grinning, still hugging your waist.

"You can come to my next compensation???" You say, smiling softly at him as he clung to you.

"REALLYYYYYYYY??????" He says as he starts to spin you around again, a wide ass grin still on his face.

MICHAEL KAISER

Michael was coming back from a photo shoot, some brand or something. For once, he was actually early coming home to you. He was tired from posing all day, so he couldn't wait to cuddle up with you. As soon as he opened the door, he caught you mid spin. You moved so gracefully that he couldn't help but stare at you he was practically mesmerised by you. As you finished, you saw Michael standing there.

"Micha, why are ya home so early?!?!?" You say, slightly surprised, your cheeks flushed from embarrassment. You haven't told Michael that you do ballet shows sometimes.

"Fucking hell angel, you move so gracefully, I think I might be hypnotised." Michael say, chucking slightly as he walks up to you, smirking to himself.

"Micha, I wanted to tell you I did ballet and ballet shows, but— it could distract you from your football—" You tried to explain yourself as best as you could but Michael cut you off.

"That doesn't matter, love. I want to watch your show, no matter what, you hear me." Michael says, his smirking growing wider. "Can't wait to tell everyone this pretty ballerina is mine."

(GIVE ME SUGGESTIONS FOR CHARACTERS IF YOU WANT A PART 2)

[intersectionalpraxis]

To the anons telling me I'm endangering Jewish people with my posts, despite being VERY clear zionists are not a reflection of those practing Judaism (and also the fact I have shared the solidarity and direct action protests from anti-zionist Jewish people multiple times on my posts), I am here to remind you that the REAL danger (which has been researched and documented by organizations, such as the Southern Poverty Law Center), is that white supremacists are the hugest threat to the safety of Jewish people and many communities around the world who aren't white and Christian. Palestinian, Arab, and Muslim people and allies like me are NOT threats to your safety, so please stop it.

And saying that it's bad to say that a genocide should end -that settler violence needs to end because over 30,000 Palestinian people are being slaughtered and bombed to death... maybe think a bit more critically before sending me your messages. Here's a video to help you start unpacking your biases, but it surely is only a start:

Stop living in an echo chamber and do more research. Watch Palestinian content creator's and people with lived experiences in Gaza, West Bank, and East Jerusalem. There are a ton of resources available. And if you don't, you're just as complicit in this ongoing mass genocide against Palestinian people.

[ino-tamukas-baggy-sweater]

The Blessing To Your Curse - Part 3 (Ryomen Sukuna x Reader)

Hoo boy this one is a doozy, I hope you're ready because shits about to go downhill uphill and all around lmaoo. I'll try to be more consistent with this series, I'm trying to split my time evenly between this, the royal au, and just doing oneshots but it's gonna be hard with uni starting up again in a few days

Part 2 here

Warnings: blood, gore, descriptions of death, descriptions of self harm

Word Count: 3.9k

“YUJI!”

“NANAMI!”

“ANYONE?!”

You knew it was dangerous to intentionally draw attention to yourself, but you called out for aid nonetheless. You’d reluctantly split off from the group to distract a first grade, being left alone with it before you could blink, and now you’re curled up against a wall while pressing a hand below your ribcage and desperately reaching into the well of your energy to patch the wound. It hadn’t gone horribly wrong, but you couldn’t deny that it hurt like a bitch and you were already tired.

Perhaps there was some remnant of the physical weakness you possessed in your past life after all, some chronic illness that chased you beyond death and rebirth.

“Motherfucker,” You growl, ripping at the side of your shirt to expose more of the wound to your eyes, feeling the skin stitch together as you hiss profanities through your teeth. After purging it of the last of the cursed blood you had been coated with during the fight, it seals up and you slump back, the patch of skin tingling with remnant energy.

Gotta get moving, find Yuji again. You push yourself to your feet, repeating these words as your nails scrape the wall and your hand drags past neon screens and through trails of the gross purple blood. You’re trying not to put weight on your ankle, which twisted in an awkward fall while fighting the first grade, but deciding you can’t afford to lose more time you push on until you reach a set of stairs.

Residuals of cursed energy leak up through the air in your direction, one trace you recognise to be Yuji’s, and a second trace, this one stronger, more potent and reeking of blood. You scrunch your nose at the tangy smell, forcing your feet to take you down the stairs where you find yourself amongst the remnants of a fight. “Yuji?” You call out, coughing slightly as a hint of smoke pierces the air.

You make it further down the hallway when you hear voices, and suddenly a wave of malice washes over you, forcing you to your knees. “I’ll give you one second,” You hear his voice around the next corner and crawl to press your back against the wall, making yourself as small as possible, “Move,” Heavy breathing near you catches your attention and you finally notice the two girls in an alcove across from you.

You press your hand to your mouth as they stare at an unknown figure that you’re now almost certain is Sukuna, the special grade curse that moves to stand at their side equally terrified but trying not to let it show. They’re like statues, and Sukuna’s footsteps ring out in the still air like shots from a pellet gun. Your eyes travel to the figure walking towards them and away from you, its Sukuna alright, his face stoic and empty of emotion as he approaches the group of three.

“You hold your heads quite high,” He rumbles, brushing the pink hair up from his forehead, and you watch as he takes a chunk off the top of the special grade’s head with a single thought, missing the two girls because they duck far enough to the ground. Smart girls, you think to yourself in passing, perhaps I should step in and save them.

He may be amicable now, but you know he can turn on a dime at any second. “Did you believe taking one knee would be enough? The boughs that bear most hang lowest, yes? But I guess you guys are pretty lightweight,” He looks to the girls, “You kids first, you wanted…” He trails off, his head angling slightly towards you and you see his nose twitch before he turns and you meet his ruby red gaze, “What have we here?”

Your heart is thumping practically through your chest as you drop your hand from your mouth, taking low deep breaths to try and calm yourself, “My lord,” You murmur, his power overwhelming you into submission. He’s in front of you in an instant, but you can see his unwillingness to bend down and assist you in front of an audience.

You hear a protestation in your mind at your term of address and you relax your shoulders, pressing yourself against the wall awkwardly to pull yourself to your feet, “Sukuna,” You murmur, low enough so as you cast your gaze over his shoulder at the special grade you know they cannot hear you, “Forgive me, I tried to find Yuji before anything could happen,”

He shakes his head, “No matter, I have business with these three anyway,” He looks over his shoulder, following your gaze, but you place a hand out of sight over where Yuji’s heart lies. “Spare the girls,” You whisper, looking away, “For my sake. Let me fulfil their demands,” He lets out a bark of a laugh, catching you off guard a little, “Will that leave you strong enough for what I need?”

You look back into his eyes, see the flash of concern passing through his gaze and his hand hovers over yours for a moment, the twinge in your ankle disappearing in an instant. “I will be,” You steel yourself, dropping your hand back to your side, “For you,”

After a moment of gazing into your eyes he turns and walks back to the girls, “What did you want to ask? I’ll grant you a finger’s worth of time,” He inspects his nails and then brushes them on the front of the supremely fucked up jacket that almost barely covers his torso at this point, allowing you a glimpse of the tattoos on his back, “Now talk,”

One of the girls, the mousy brunette, glances up at you for just a second, letting you see the tear tracks running down her cheeks as she speaks, “Below us, there’s a man in monks robes, with stitches across his forehead,” She mumbles. You flinch and look away, you know exactly who she speaks of, and it’s the man who’s been haunting your prophetic dreams since you were a child.

You knew through your time at Jujutsu High that Suguru Geto would turn his back, and after his death you thought it was over, but things are never that simple. “Please, kill him,” Sukuna glances back at you and you can feel his essence behind your eyelids as his manifestation enters your mind, “Is the roleplaying monk the one you dream of?” You nod, digging your fingernails into your palm as the other hand clutches at your chest.

You feel rather than see him roll his eyes as he breaks eye contact, “What an asshole,” He grunts, turning back to the girls. “And also, please free Geto,” The other girl whimpers, making your eyes water. You can still sense Geto beyond death, he may not be strong enough to free himself, and you know someone like Sukuna or Gojo or Yuta could, but Gojo is nothing but a liability when it comes to his former best friend.

“We know the location of one other finger-“ “Quit whining,” Sukuna snaps, and both girls are silent as mice, “Did you think a measly one or two fingers would grant you the right to order me around?” He pouts slightly, “How insulting, you’re lucky my queen is present, or I’d have your heads where you kneel,”

He regards them with a look you can only describe as voracious and then nudges the dark haired girl’s forehead with the toe of his shoe. She keeps her eyes firmly shut as her head is forced into a more upright position, her face turned up towards his, “You see her standing there?” He asks quietly.

The girl opens her eyes and locks them onto yours though you’re quite sure she cannot see you through the veil of her tears. “She’s the only reason the two of you are still alive, if I were you I’d be thankful and go to her before I change my mind,” His tone is mocking, he’s enjoying this, and some small part of you is too.

But you barely have a chance to protest before they’re stumbling to their feet, heads still bowed, and they’re by your side in an instant, tucking themselves behind you so you stand between them and your ferocious lover. “If you wish for them to live that badly then get them out of here, it’s about to get… a little hot,” His voice rings through your mind and you turn obediently, looking between the girls for a moment.

They appear to be equally as afraid of you as they are of Sukuna, and you have a fleeting memory pass through your mind of seeing them with Geto before the Night parade of a Hundred Demons. “Come on,” You say flatly, “It’s not going to be safe here much longer,” Not that you can claim it ever was safe for anyone but you, putting you between Sukuna’s technique and them doesn’t change a thing because his technique can’t hurt you, but you’re not going to tell them that and shatter their hope.

“Geto will die,” You murmur as you nudge them in front of you, “I have seen it,” Again, you’re not going to tell them how much time there is until the day comes, but you want to at least reassure them that something will happen. “How do you know?” The mousy brunette looks back at you and you stop walking, having made it far enough down the hallway that you would no longer see Sukuna if you were to look over your shoulder.

You meet her gaze, blinking slowly, “And why would I reveal that? What have you done besides demand from my king?” She flinches as if remembering who you are to him, “What are your names?” “Nanako,” The one who spoke murmurs. “Mimiko,” The other adds quickly, “We’re sorry, please, we thought maybe if we helped him then he would help us, he’s so strong that surely killing Geto would be nothing for him,”

You let Mimiko finish her little spiel before pushing between them and continuing to walk, remaining quiet. They don’t follow for a moment before deciding you’re the lesser of two evils and then catching up to you. “You never make requests of Sukuna,” You murmur, “Not if the fate of the world depends on it,” “What is it that you know?” Nanako murmurs.

You spin to face them, making yourself dizzy for a moment before you fix your glare on her wide brown eyes, “The last person to make a request of him and live to tell the tale beyond his grasp was the only person he ever loved, over a thousand years ago, and through no fault of his own he failed to fulfil her request,” You snap. Sometimes, now that you remember, you’re forced to relive your own death through your dreams.

The spray of razor sharp barbs hitting your back from the insect-like curses chasing you, dragging through your skin and shredding your insides like serrated knives. Your heart weakening with every beat, legs still running despite the fact there was a steady ooze of blood from around each point that cruelly stuck out from the front of your robes.

You remember you tripped on the path as his house came into view, falling to your knees, you nudged one of the barbs, it’s pointed edge taunting you with the rosy shine of your own blood. You remember the sound of your own screams drawing him from his house, only for you to bleed out in his arms, his face twisted and streaked with tears.

Tears that bound your soul to his in a futile effort to keep you alive, only succeeding in delaying the inevitable for but a few moments, allowing a proper vow to fall from his lips. You still feel the chains he put there, still feel his soul on the other side.

The girls eyes are fearful and you wish you could be sure if they know exactly what you’re trying to imply, but you won’t dwell on it any longer. “I’m going to get you to our healer, and you’re going to stay there without complaint, or I’m going to kill you myself, you understand?” They nod, eyes filled with fear as you grow deadly, feeling Sukuna’s gleeful bloodlust flood your senses.

Seething with quiet rage you escort them back to Shoko who, despite looking at you like you’ve grown a second head, lets you attempt to return to the fight. Although you aren’t entirely sure where anyone is anymore, you’ve somehow managed to get caught up in Sukuna’s domain, the slashes glancing harmlessly off your skin as you search for the epicentre.

“SUKUNA!” You shout, pressing forwards through the spray. It’s almost like rain, and you shake your head to clear your thoughts, trying your hardest to see anything. Finally in the darkness, you catch a glimpse of the shrine that lies at the centre of Sukuna’s domain, the jaws wide open and ominous as always.

This happens as the domain subsides, and you see his pink hair across from you at the edge of the destruction. “SUKUNA!” He looks towards you as you stumble in his direction, pulling yourself out of the hole as your chest heaves. “I thought I told you to get out of here,” He growls, hauling you to your feet by your upper arm.

You cough as you inhale some concrete dust, “If we want to do this body thing, now is the best time we have,” You croak, “Nobody else is around,” Sukuna smirks and looks past you for a moment, “Just wait a moment will you,”

You fall silent as he steps around you towards the hole, “Make sure to savour this for me brat,” Sukuna’s energy softly fades and you whip your head around, “Sukuna!” You growl, “You moron!” The tattoos fade and you see his hands start to shake.

Yuji grabs his face and you’re afraid to touch him, but he falls to his knees and you’re quickly by his side, “LET ME DIE!” He screams, dragging his fingertips along the rough concrete and shaving chunks of viscera off, “ONLY ME!” You make a mental note to chew Sukuna out later, this isn’t how you wanted to proceed.

 “Yuji listen to me, you made me a promise,” You grunt, pulling him back off the ground into your arms with yours hooked under his shoulders to prevent him from hurting himself anymore. “He can have my body,” Yuji sobs, burying his face against your arm, “I don’t deserve to live!” He wails.

“Don’t pull that shit with me,” You growl, grabbing his chin and making him look up at you. You know your eyes must be a reflection of Sukuna’s, you can see how terrified he is, “You promised me that you would assist me, and I promised you I would protect you,”

“Innocent people died!” He pulls away from you, “And it’s all my fault, I’m not strong enough, I just…” He trails off, breathing heavily, “I can’t understand how or why you love him, I just can’t,” Tears begin to slip down your cheeks, leaving trails through the dust and dirt, “Yuji, I…”

You know what you want to say, you want to remind him that you’re technically a thousand years old, you knew him before he was like… this… and you’re sure you can return him at least to a more docile state, but he’s like a caged wolf right now. Fulfilling an oath that has no purpose anymore other than to feed his bloodlust.

Instead, you take his hands in your own disregarding the state of his fingers to just hold him. “I will readily accept that this is partially my fault, I probably could have stopped him in the subway and I didn’t, but right now I need you to let me do this. The sooner he is out of your body the sooner your body is your own again,” You plead softly.

His shoulders droop and he nods, “Yeah, yeah, go on then,” He murmurs. You steel yourself, you hadn’t had the chance to practice this step because you couldn’t risk accidentally cloning Sukuna, so you had one shot to get it right.

You shift so you’re on your knees, still holding his hands, and using the blood from his fingers you paint a small chevron symbol on his forehead. It begins to glow as you reach deep into your soul, the well of energy within you stirring.

His eyes are full of tears as he looks at you, and you have to blink away your own again as the two of you begin to glow. There aren’t words in any language that can properly describe what exactly it is that you do, you suppose if your modern day clan had survived then you’d know what it was you were doing, but you could only follow your instincts and hope that everything went smoothly.

A trail of strange white energy, formless and malleable, pulls from the wounded tips of Yuji’s fingers, trailing out like blossoms in the wind and eventually forming something resembling a human beside you. You reach one hand towards it, maintaining your connection to Yuji and pressing your other to the pale form that is gradually taking on colour.

It occurs to you as Sukuna’s form begins to take shape before you that you have no clothes for him, you really hadn’t thought as far ahead as you should have, and Yuji averts his eyes, emptying the contents of his stomach away from the strange new body.

It takes a few more minutes and some small adjustments but soon the body is finished, and it looks just as you remember from before your death. “How the hell do we get him into the body now?” Yuji asks?” “Like this,” You turn to him, pressing your hand to the side of his face as his eyes widen.

Tattoos form on his skin and his eyes waver between brown and red momentarily, before Sukuna responds to your power and pushes forward. “You called?” He tilts his head with a smirk, grabbing your chin and inspecting the tear tracks on your face, “Did the brat make you cry?”

You shake your head, “No he didn’t, now will you hurry up and do whatever it is you have to do to switch bodies?” You murmur, exhaustion gripping at your limbs. He looks down, nodding with approval as he lets you go, “Your craft is immaculate as always,” He murmurs, trailing his fingers over the unblemished skin.

You rub your jaw, clicking your neck momentarily as you look around, spotting a somewhat intact clothing store a few doors down from you, “I’ll be right back,” You haul yourself to your feet, stumbling towards the shattered glass and into the shop. It takes a few minutes but eventually you find all the essentials to just cover him up, underwear, sweatpants, and a simple t-shirt that has a generic band logo you don’t recognise on the back.

Making sure it’s all in a larger size you lurch back out onto the street, noticing the new body sitting up and flexing his fingers, his body adorned with tattoos and his face changed, returned to the half-twisted state. Yuji is trembling on his side a couple metres away, his back facing the two of you as you return to them.

It only takes you a moment to realise what happened, Sukuna made the new body eat one of Yuji’s fingers, and you frown at him sternly, “Heal him,” You grunt, hitting his shoulder with the back of your hand. He snatches the clothes off you without responding, you fall back onto your butt and shuffle over to Yuji, “Oh Yuji,” You murmur.

“You heal him if you care so much, he’s just a brat,” Sukuna growls and you whip your head back to look at him, fury giving you a shot of adrenaline, “I just used up almost all of my energy reserves to create a new body for you from nothing, you fucking owe me, I don’t care how much you hate him,”

His face remains stoic and you stand, poking his chest viciously, “I brought you into this world, I can fucking take you out of it, I don’t care, you better not make me think I just wasted everything I had for nothing,” He rolls his eyes, pushing past you and bending down, his hand on Yuji’s side frightens the boy for a moment but he relaxes as Sukuna’s reverse cursed technique flows through him, growing back the finger he stole and healing his other fingertips.

“Are you happy now?” He growls, standing up and looking down on you. You spit off to the side, saliva mixed with blood, “I won’t be happy until you stop treating me like a fucking worm, I gave you your own body and now you think you can treat me like this? Is this how you show appreciation to someone who you’ve apparently lied to every time you’ve told them you loved them?”

His demeanour is softened the moment you accuse him of lying and you feel a momentary sting of regret, but you just spent all of your energy giving his own body. It’ll take you weeks to recover from this. If he isn’t willing to fight in your place, then what was it all for?

You want to cry again, you want to burst into tears and fall to your knees, you want to stay by Yuji’s side and just give up hope. This isn’t the man you knew, you should’ve been more careful, shouldn’t have so readily trusted him when he showed you his memories. He’s changed too much, and you’re afraid you’ll never get him back.

You do eventually tire of Sukuna’s solemn silence, slumping down on the rubble next to Yuji and apologizing softly, repeatedly. You know that no amount of words will ever make up for what he’s gone through, but as long as you stay with him he might have a chance of getting through this.

“Y/n,” Sukuna rumbles. You look back to him, he’s sat casually just beside you, “You’re the only thing I want in this world, without you I am nothing but a curse seeking endless vengeance,” You feel Yuji roll over and press his face against the side of your thigh, “You give me a purpose, and if you don’t trust me that’s ok, just…”

He reaches for you and you let him take your hand, looking up into his eyes, “You made me human again,” He murmurs, “I… I remember what it’s like to love, and I will stay by your side until you believe me and you love me too,” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, choosing to remain silent but nodding slightly.

His eyes close and your free hand rests on Yuji’s back. It will take time, and this fight is far from over, but you’re sure that things will begin to heal. Even if you end up on the run from Jujutsu society for the rest of your life, at least you have him back. At least you can go about trying to save some of your friends.

I think this takes the prize for my favourite chapter so far, maybe it's just the whole 'writers are their own worst enemies' thing (is that how that goes? idk) and because it's the most recent one lol

also i hope yall dont mind me saving characters who died in shibuya, but i mean it's my fic and i get to choose who lives >:)

Part 4 coming soon

[missdaytonawrites]

kintsugi • a. anderson

summary - abby forces you to beg for your life.

WC - 1.5k

cw/tw - nsfw below the cut! smut, dark!abby, dumbified!reader, mean!abby, dom!abby, sub!reader, afab!reader, overstim, strap-on use, degrading language, abbys dacryphilia is showing (if u squint), spitting, slapping, choking/headlock, dead dove DNE, mentions of death, violent descriptions of passing out from being strangled

A/N - this is daaark! abby is super mean, this was initially not the first lil' one-shot i was going to post but here we are. i just know that abby is such a mean dom and so gets off on how much power she has over you!!! please enjoy!

"i'm on the side with my tears streamin' down."

okay but.. abby making you beg her not to kill you.. your back pressed to her front?? probably already came at least three times tonight???? strap so ridiculously deep??? her hand is just barely tracing around your clit when she notices a tear escape from your eye and gets a rotten idea…

she brings her big and oh-so-strong arm from around your waist to wrap around your neck, settling you into a headlock. she leans her head down to look at you, pressing a kiss to your temple and taking in your fucked-out state. the sight before her causes abby to quite literally laugh in your face as she begins to apply more pressure to your pretty neck. the rocking of her hips is suddenly much more intense and all color slowly starts to fade from your face.

“hey..” she whispers, hand moving from your clit to come up and tap at you nose in attempts at grabbing any attention you had left. “wanna know somethin’ i think about..?” you dont answer, your brain feeling like an absolute bucket of water. still, she keeps on. “pr-obably think about this too much..” through your lack of sense, you can hear a sharp wince fly past her lips; the harness rubbing against her in such a torturous manner. “m’so much stronger than you..”

her hand has forsure found its way back to your clit by now. “s’much stronger cherry, bet if i squoze ya’ any harder ya’d just pop right here in my arms.” the thought has you teetering on the edge of eruption, a pathetic whine coming from you as she does just that: tightens her arm around your neck and laughs at you again. “isn’t that scary, cherry?” another dry chuckle wanders into your ear, “could kill ya’ right now, if i saw fit.”

you try your hardest to gulp beneath her grip, but to no avail. you can feel a bead of sweat form and then dribble down your forehead from the intensity of the moment. “does it scare you, pretty baby?” she feels you shudder against her and notices your sad attempt at a nod. a gush of your slick rushes from down the strap and onto her thighs, her nostrils flare as her grip tightens around your neck.

“mhm. you like that cherry? like being fuckin scared?” she quickens her pace to an impossible speed and you give her a broken sob. she continues to fuck you at an unforgiving pace when she brings the hand once toying with your clit up to squish your color-less cheeks together. “does it make ya’ all hot inside to know i’m in total control of everything right now? including your life?”

you can’t stop it now, tears flowing from your eyes down your cheeks as they pool between your neck and her arm. “a-abby.. god…” you somehow manage to garble out, and she brings her mouth to your ear. “mm.. why dont you beg, pretty baby? look me in my eyes and try to convince me, ask me reeeal nice to keep your pretty ass alive.” your eyes go wide, jaw-dropping as you try to quickly recollect your thoughts just in case shes serious. you sob once again before taking a deep breath..

“w-what the fu.. oh fuck!” her hand drops down to send a stinging slap! to your clit, “fuck abby! please, dont.” she laughs at you, again, and then deadpans. “please dont,” she mocks, “please dont do what, pretty cherry?” you’re short-circuiting, barely even remembering your own name at this point. “dont kill me abby.. please. wanna, wanna stay alive!!” you practically shout, “wanna stay alive n’ be your girl, aha- wanna be your cherry..”

a gross mix of your saliva, tears and her sweat still pooling in the crevice of her arm as she somehow squeezes down on your neck even harder. you cough, and she spits down onto your face. “what else cherry? think theres another reason you wanna be alive so bad, hmm?” her pretty fingers move to circle your clit, and you start to claw at her thighs and hips. you suck a string of drool back into your mouth and keep going. not only your orgasm, but your life on the line here.

“uhhnnnggg.. fuck! fuck! fuck! yes! yes, wanna stay alive so i can.. fuck-” you feel your orgasm creep up on you in crashing waves and abby slaps your clit again, her grip tightened to kill. “d-dont you stop fuckin’ talkin’ cherry. i’ll turn your lights out so goddamned quick.” you stop your clawing to make a feeble attempt in grabbing at her hips to slow her brutal pace. “oh my god-” you squeak when you feel a tingling sensation come over your being.. “god, please abs! keep me alive so i can cum! please!!”

now that sends her into an absolute fit of laughter. booming chortles ricocheting off of your ear drums, “such a disgusting little cherry. sayin’ all these dirty things for me..” you try, you really do try so hard to continuously comprehend whats being said to you but, you can see those little black dots sprinkling your vision and you start to loose feeling in the tips of your fingers. abby knows what about to happen like the back of her strong hand, so she just simply squeezes you harder as your sight completely blacks out. she lets you slip under with a kiss to your temple and a quiet “night night, cherry.”

just like that you were out, all you really remember was the feeling of your body falling against the sheets. within the next 15-20 seconds abby uses all the strength she can find to fuck you as hard as she possibly could. whining and panting like a bitch in heat when she feels her own orgasm building. it isnt long before you come to, sucking in a major gasp of air as you shoot up from the mattress to take in your surroundings. you damn-near scream at the feeling of abby's cock relentlessly plunging in and out of you, she just digs her nails deeper into the fleshy parts of your hips.

this was your favorite, body all spent and on the verge of exploding. completely at her disposal. “welcome back, cherry.” abby grins from above you, “decided to keep you alive for now.. m’kay cherry?” you were a babbling mess, only able to focus of the roaring fire being coddled in your gut. “m’not gonna kill you, cherry. need you to cum, need it bad cherry.” her words have you falling to the sheets again, eyes crossing while your legs begin to violently shake. “mm.. i- i can cum, abs!?” she cant help but give you a loving smile, her sweet little obedient cherry. “yes cherry, let it go..”

and that was all you needed, you choked out a sob. you thrashed around against the sheets and under abby when your vision begins to cloud. “o-ooooh abby.. g-gonna..” and before you can stop anything, your orgasm begins to spurt out of you in little bursts as you squirt all over your nice sheets and onto abby's strap. coughing while she fucks you through your high, steadily reaching her own orgasm. you simply couldn't move, your insides felt as though they had been bludgeoned to a pulp and little sparks of electricity pass through your body.

“mm.. fuck! m’gonna cum. gonna make a mess all over my harness ‘cause of you, little cherry.” she grunts to you and a stupid, fucked-out smile appears on your face. “abs! abs, fuh- fuck!” you grip the sheets so hard your knuckles turn white just as she finally start to cum. reaching her fingers down to gather up some of her own spend before bringing the same fingers up to your mouth. shoving them in, she coos at you.

“such a sweet cherry, can ya’ taste how good you make me feel?” you let out a dreamy sigh at the removal of her fingers and hear the clanking of the harness straps. “gonna pull out now..” she whispers at you and removes the strap from your tired little hole, shimmying out of it as she leans down to kiss you again.

she lets the harness drop to the floor with a “thud” and steps into your shared bathroom to clean herself up. she returns and you're still on the bed, lying on your tummy with a little grin on your face. you looked so beautiful basking in the afterglow, wincing as she brought a warm washcloth up to wipe off your sticky thighs and cunt. also dropping the washcloth to the floor, she settled in bed next to you with a heaving chest.

abby looks over and notices shades of dark purple and gray decorating your hips. she sees a bruise beginning to form around your neck and rolls you over to better assess the damage. hissing at the sight of a bright blue band sitting on your neck she immediately pulls you into her for some love. kissing your scalp, and forehead and knuckles before pressing a few, feather-light kisses to your marked-up neck. she sighs when she feels you nuzzle into her and feels like something needed to be said..

“could never kill ya’ cherry, y’too sweet.”

eeeeeeek!!! pls lmk if you like!! reblogs n' comments are appreciated!

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Crocodile gets this from an annoyance (Spandam)

You know what? Here, have a drabble. First fic using Lizard's official name.

No one in Impel Down got visitors, that's a given. Especially not someone left to rot in level 6, a level that even other prisoners didn't know existed. That's why Crocodile laughed when he was informed he had a visitor, having assumed it was a joke. The guard kept a straight face and said that the visitor would be there shortly, then left.

That certainly intrigued Crocodile and the other prisoners that had overheard the exchange. It didn't take long for the news that there was going to be a visitor to spread through out the entire block. Speculations about who it could be bounced between the cells, and the prisoners closest to him asked if he knew who it was. Crocodile shrugged off their questions. He genuinely had no clue. All he could do was wait for his visitor to arrive.

A door could be heard unlocking and opening down the hall, and Crocodile knew that that must be whoever has come down here to see him. His cell was around a corner, so he couldn't see who it was yet, but he could hear.

He could hear an onslaught of taunts and mockery coming from the other prisoners. Whoever this was appeared to be well known amongst these people, and most certainly not liked.

When the mystery visitor finally turned the corner, Crocodile had more questions than answers. Some battered, swollen man in a full body brace was being pushed towards him in a wheelchair. That definitely wasn't what he had been expecting to see.

The prisoner in the cell across from him started laughing hysterically. "Holy hell, Spandam?! And here I thought your mug couldn't get any uglier!" More prisoners joined in on the laughter, visibly elated to see this Spandam character in his sorry state. Crocodile had no idea who this man was, though he can recall hearing the name thrown around a few times.

Spandam is brought to a halt in front of Crocodile's cell. The ex-warlord smirked down at the weak looking man before him. He walked up to the bars and slid his hand and hook through them, grinning when he saw Spandam deliberately wheel himself back a bit when he saw the gleaming hook.

"Leave." The order was barked at the guards accompanying Spandam.

They looked at him incredulously, "Sir, this is Level 6, we can't just-"

"I said leave! I want to speak to him alone!" For such a thoroughly beaten man, he had a surprising amount of bark to him.

The guards hesitated, but eventually sighed and left, looking downright relieved to get away from him. Crocodile stared down at Spandam, curious as to what business he had with him.

"You!" The man seethed.

Crocodile chuckled, "What about me?"

"Your daughter!" That certainly caught his attention. "That little monster attacked me!"

For a moment, everything was silent. Crocodile took in Spandam's appearance, then laughed. Hard. Harder than he has in a long time. When he finally calmed down, he responded to the insane claim, "Sure she did. And I'm here because the Marines defeated me." He chuckled again, finding the bold-faced lie amusing.

Spandam's face turned red in rage, "She did!" He reached into his mouth and ripped out a bridge, "That crazy bitch kicked out my teeth and bit my fingers off!" The hand clutching the bridge only had three fingers, the pinky and ring finger absent.

Crocodile sneered at him, not caring for hearing this pathetic whelp call his daughter such a thing. "Nubia catches insects and gives them to her body guards to release outside because she can't stand to kill them, and you want me to believe she did that? If you're going to lie, at least make it believable."

The wheelchair inched closer to the cell as Spandam tried to act tough and yell. "I am a World Government official! I'm the chief of CP9! You can't even begin to comprehend the power I have!"

"And yet you couldn't fend off a little girl!" A prisoner called out from down the block, making many of the others laugh.

Spandam was practically foaming at the mouth. He turned his head as much as he could with his brace and casts and scowled at the offending prisoner. Then he looked back at Crocodile with a maniacal grin. He wheeled himself even closer to the cell, "You know why I came down here? I wanted to tell you in person that when I get my hands on that girl again, I'm going to make the rest of her life a living hell! She'll be begging for me to kill her whe-"

His words are cut off when Crocodile lunges forward. His hook sank into Spandam's shoulder and yanked him closer, and his hand locked around his throat to prevent him from screaming and alerting the guards. Murmurs of excitement echoed down the block as every prison clamber to watch the entertaining spectacle.

Crocodile glowered at the idiot before him, squeezing his neck harder and relishing in the panicked thrashing and gurgling sounds coming out of him. He spoke slowly but firmly, making sure that this fool would hear every word.

"If you so much as look at her, I'll rip your eyes out with my hook. If you breathe the same air as her, I'll eviscerate you, and if you ever touch her," Crocodile squeezed his neck tighter and dug the hook in deeper, "I will kill you."

With that, Crocodile released Spandam, making sure to do as much damage as possible when he tore his hook out. The scream that he let out once he could breathe again was ear-piercing and caught the attention of the guards. Despite the blood still dripping from his hook, they said nothing to Crocodile and just focused on removing the shrieking man from the block.

Everyone was cheering Crocodile on, happy to see him tear into the CP9 Chief. Crocodile didn't register any of their words as he stared at his blood soaked hook. His daughter was specifically being targeted by some very powerful people.

He needed to get out of here, and fast. And when he did, Spandam was going to be his first victim.

[kind-of-a-chaos-witch]

Baby witches, listen up.

You listening? Cool.

I'm not advanced and have nothing important to say and you probably shouldn't listen to me, but just by writing that, I've caught your attention.

I wouldn't consider myself a baby witch, but definetly not advanced — somewhere inbetween. After not practing for a while, a lot of my current practice is based on intuition after learning (what I consider to be) enough.

That being said.

When I was a baby witch, I wasn't critical enough. A lot of posts can just say BABY WITCHES, LISTEN BITCHES and I would follow it immediately.

For example: the phrase blessed be. I didn't know what it truly meant, but because others where saying it, I felt like I should — it felt witchy. That feels kinda dangerous, considering words have power and intention. Maybe you have the same mindset as I did, without realising.

Another example: I remember as I was learning, I'd write out the information (such as learning about chakra's) and post it in a forum, for other people to learn from. But here's the problem — I didn't know what the fuck I was talking about because I was learning. And chakra's aren't exactly for some white teen to be teaching about. Hence, I was most likely spreading misinformation.

So what's the point of this post?

Be critical.

Think about the information you're basing your entire practice/religion on, then think again. Is it a trustful resource — are they learning or experienced, does it make sense to you, your intuition and follow your prior knowledge? Yeah? Epic.

This has been a PSA from Kind Of A Chaos Witch, probably the only one I'll do because I'll be honest — I'm not qualified to talk about much.

[blackbackedjackal]

asking in genuine good-faith; why do so many people not take issue with fur farms? most of the reasoning i see from people who are pro-fur farms is that real fur is more environmentally friendly than faux fur, which is true. however, it is also difficult for me to understand how keeping animals like foxes in a fur farm environment provides any real quality of life for them. i also feel that comparing things such as injuries occurring from overcrowding foxes or them being culled by farmers to death/injury from natural causes from life in the wild isn’t logically sound, as those are two completely different situations. i don’t understand how people who are against foxes being kept as pets or used as props out of concern for their welfare, can then be alright with them being kept in fur farms. i would really appreciate hearing your perspective.

I'll go ahead and say this but I'm sure you're aware @/is-the-fox-video-cute has plenty of resources backed with sources to explain why fur farming is not an inherently bad practice. Because of that I'm just going to talk about my opinions on the subject.

I share properly researched information about fur farming is because PETA and other Animal Rights Activist groups are full of shit. They are constantly spreading misinformation about animals in general, but their anti-fur propaganda has been so successful it's nearly impossible in the US to find actual scientific or first-hand sources talking about fur farming. ARA propaganda about fur farming has done more harm than good for both the industry and the animals. This includes ARAs staging footage of animals being abused and killed. They will literally do anything to spread their propaganda.

I'm not a fan of commercialized animal agriculture in general, but it's more of an issue of wanting better standardized welfare regulations for the animals and employees then the actual practice of raising animals for food and other resources. In places where proper welfare standards are met, the foxes are very well cared from start to finish. They have to be because the quality of the fur is directly dependent on the health and wellbeing of the foxes. But the constant push from ARA groups and anti-fur lobbying hinders progress. It makes it difficult to improve the industry when half the time you're having to fight just to be able to run the farms in the first place. I want to see the welfare standards improve more and more over time (and they defiantly have), but ARA groups are actively preventing that from happening on a larger scale.

Fur is much more environmentally friendly than faux fur, but fur farming also keep pressures off the demand of fur from wild populations. There are wild red fox subspecies and other furbearers who's populations are threatened due to overhunting and commercial trapping of the animals. Again, in farms where proper welfare standards are met, animals are regularly checked by the farmers/staff and given regular veterinary care. An injured fox in a fur farm is far more likely to be treated than a fox that was injured in the wild.

Most pet foxes descended from fur farms and even now Save A Fox purchases her (very poorly bred) foxes directly from fur farms. So what I don't understand is how people are ok with having animals from fur farms as pets, yet choose to spread lies about the fur farming industry and lie about their sources. Like you wanted a pet fox so badly you bought multiple ones from an unethical fur farm??? Gross. Again, if the industry had better overall welfare standards, it would help improve the lives of these animals. Theoretically, that would make it more ethical for people to own pet foxes, but as things currently stand it's only promoting bad business practices and directly financing bad fur farms. The reality is that fur farms that follow proper welfare standards take better care of their foxes than most private owners, and yes that includes SAF.

I'm not trying to convince people to be 100% ok with the practice without thinking critically about the issues it does still have in it's current state. I just want to lobby for better welfare standards in the fur industry. I want to see the industry improve because that improves the lives of the animals involved and could help with setting better welfare standards in other parts of animal agriculture. Spreading misinformation isn't going to help in the slightest, especially when people are out here actively harming the animals to do so.

[unique-high]

I could fall in love with you | IDOL EUNSEOK X BLK FEM READER

REQUESTED @iamflawless303

summary: put your worries in my hands.

a/n: I'm super sorry that I'm just now getting to this. I hope you still like it. 🥲

Sorry for any mistakes.

I recommend listening to this song for this fic :)

There is a light sprinkling of rain as you scurry across the parking lot to Eunseok's car. You're grateful he can pick you up from work, since he has practiced in a few hours.

The warm air of the car hits your skin. It felt nice being out of the icy rain. Eunseok takes a towel from his Nike duffle back in the backseat and hands it to you. He realizes how you look at it and then laughs, telling you: “Don't worry, it's clean.”

You wipe the rainwater from your arms and face. In the few seconds of being in the car, you couldn't help but feel this heavy energy coming from Eunseok. You've been around him long to know that something is off.

The touch of your cool hand on the back of his neck makes him crumble a little. You play with some of his hair. The rain gets heavier and it's the only sound between the two of you.

“Something is the matter.” You softly whispered. Your thumb strokes the side of his neck.

Eunseok crumbles a little more at your words.

“It's work.”

“I'm listening.”

He lets out a broken laugh while staring straight ahead out the windshield as the rain hits it. Eunseok wants to pour all his worries into you.

How his body aches from all the dance practices. How he's afraid he wouldn't do as well for RIIZE's upcoming performance.

And when Eunseok doesn't say anything for a while, you speak again. “Hey, whatever is bothering you, just place it in my hands.” You smiled a little with your hands held out.

This makes Eunseok smile. So he places his worries into your hands. You rolled down the window and chunked his worries out and quickly let the window up so you wouldn't get wet by the rain.

“How do you feel?”

“Lighter.”

You pinch his cheek making him laugh. “Like I told you a thousand times, Eunseok, if you ever need to talk, I'm always here any time of day. No matter how late always come to me with your worries.”

You were never selfish with yourself. Always giving others tiny pieces of you. And Eunseok sometimes wishes you were a little selfish with yourself. He has more of you than anybody else would ever have. Then again, maybe he is a little selfish himself — always accepting the pieces of you and never refusing.

Eunseok gets you home safely, but before you even get out of the car, he reaches over the console and grabs your wrist, stopping you from fully getting out of his car.

“More worries?” you asked.

“I... I was wondering if I could come over after pract–”

“The door will be unlocked. I'll have your favorite food and drink ready when you get here.”

And damn Eunseok doesn't know what he did in his past life to deserve a friend like you.

Everyone has things that bring them some kind of comfort. And you were Eunseok's comfort person. To him, you are like a tiny, cozy, warm home in the winter that smells of sugar cookies and pumpkin spice.

He gives your wrist a little squeeze before letting go. He doesn't drive away yet until you're inside your place and you flip the lights on.

🩷💞🩷💞🩷💞🩷💞🩷💞🩷💞🩷💞🩷💞🩷💞

Eunseok is sitting on the sofa with you. You and he are binge-watching a show on Netflix. It felt nice to not to do anything after practice, but just to sit with you felt even nicer.

“Can I cry with you?” Eunseok asks, his voice is so low you almost didn't hear him over the TV.

You grab the remote from the arm of the sofa and paused the TV.

“Yeah, of course, if that's what you need, sweetie.” You scoot closer to him on the sofa.

Eunseok lays his head on your shoulder. He then takes your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. His eyes sting a little and his nose starts to run.

“More worries?”

Eunseok nods. You placed your free hand out. “Let's get rid of them, okay?”

“Okay.”

And with each worry, Eunseok tells you what's on his mind as he places his worries into your hand. Once your hand is full, you blow all his worries away like a dandelion.

He cries into your shoulder. It's a gut-wrenching cry, but a much-needed one. You stroke the top of his head. You knew being an Idol was a heavy load, but you didn't think of the overwhelming amount of stress it came with.

Eunseok couldn't live his life without people online criticizing him over the smallest of things. He either wasn't doing something right or said something that got taken out of context.

People are cruel.

But at least you made Eunseok feel a lot safer.

When Eunseok is all cried out. You wipe his tears away and clean up his face. Then it's the warmest hug from you that he's engulfed in that he could finally breathe easily.

You gently sway him in your arms and kiss his forehead. “How do you feel now?”

“I feel empty now. But in a good way tho. Like after letting everything out, there is nothing else left there that makes me feel like I'm drowning under the weight of my worries with my lungs burning for air.” he said. “And I want to thank you in so many ways, Y/n.”

“Oh, Eunseok, you don't have to thank me–”

Your eyes widen when he suddenly captures your lips in a tender kiss. Closing your eyes you melt into your sofa. Your body is lightly buzzing all over. You feel Eunseok smile against your lips.

“One thank you down. A million more to go.”

[sawyer-is-not-my-name]

Will Solace x half-Sibling reader x Apollo (platonic/family dynamic)

Cw: the readers mom is toxic at times and controlling

You sat in cabin 7, a lyre in hand the music seeming to just pour out of you, it was a natural born gift you had. Or at least that's what your mom called it. You brows furrowed as you shook your head, not liking the way it seemed to play. It wasn't perfect you knew your mom would've said something about it, if she were in the room. You put down the instrument, frustrated that your mom was all you could think of. You were in your father's cabin for gods sake, why were you only thinking of your mom.

You tried to forget about all the competitions you had done for your musical skill, all the time you spent practicing instead of sleeping, the strive you were forced to have to be perfect. A wrong note would've gotten you grounded, your mom only expected the best. She needed you to be the best, almost as if you winning all those competitions would bring your father back to her. It was exhausting.

You felt tears well up as tried your best to hold it together. You wanted more than anything to quit playing music, something you couldn't even escape while at camp. You had to practice so when you went back home after the summer, you'd be able to go straight back into competitions. If you didn't do well at the competitions you wouldn't be able to come back to camp. That was the deal you had with your mother. You couldn't even stop and try doing other things, all your time went to practicing.

You wanted to break the stupid the lyre, but you felt as though your dad wouldn't like that. Your shoulders gave way as you leaned down, getting ready to pick the lyre back up.

"hey, do you mind helping me in the infirmary today? There's gonna be a match of capture the flag today, so there's bound to be far too many injuries along with that." You nodded while standing up, you weren't one to go off and do things when you were supposed to be practing, but he needed help. "Yeah I can help, I'm not sure if I'll be much help but yeah I can try!" He smiled at you, "you're an Apollo kid, trust me you at least have some medical talent, even if music is your forte." The music joke, flew over your head though.

He could tell that you weren't fully invested in music, he realized pretty early on that you struggled reading music the first time you saw it, most of your skill came from muscle memory. You memorized the movements not the notes, he knew your passion wasn't music, and he was making it his mission to help you realize that. So when he saw you sitting there clearly upset and frustrated with the lyre in your hands, he decided to have you help him.

-----

He brought you into the infirmary with him, showing you around pointing out the various tools you might need, showing you where the ambrosia was. He could almost see a hint of a spark in your eyes as he showed you how to use things.

Kayla came up to you both, "Will, I really hope your gonna have him help you so you can teach him. You're not just gonna send him on his own right?" Will laughed slightly, "yes he's gonna help me, I wasn't planning on leaving him to figure it all out, I don't wanna overwhelm the poor boy on his first day in the infirmary." He smiled at you warmly.

----

When people started coming in it was you were a little overwhelmed, but then you seemed to know what to do. As if a voice in your head told you everything, maybe your father was helping you, or maybe it was just what you were meant to do. If people weren't in pain, maybe you'd even call it fun.

A few campers in, Will let you take the reigns, settling for supervising to make sure you didn't mess up. You were doing amazing he didn't have to tell you what to do, or correct your methods, you were acting as if you'd been doing this as long as he had.

When he was sure that you were okay on your own he told you he was gonna leave you to help other patients. You just smiled at him and nodded. He left to help a camper by Kayla.

"Have you seen y/n? He's doing amazing, he's a natural Kayla!" She nodded agreeing, "I'm gonna be honest, I didn't have much hope but he's a natural healer! I thought his thing was music, but he's doing amazing here! I think he's a healer!" Both of them were on the same page.

----

By the end up the day, you found yourself proud. You seemed so good at healing, and it was something you liked doing.

You sat at the Apollo table next to Will at dinner. Your half brother turned to look at you before saying, "you think you could help us in the infirmary tomorrow? You're really good at it, and we could use the extra help!" You shook your head, reality sinking in, "I have to go back to practicing tomorrow." Your stomach felt weak at the thought, your mother was very clear about what your future held. Medicine wasn't in that, she wanted you to have fame, money she wanted you to do something that would benefit her. When you learned of your father, you had asked her about taking a different path, and that didn't go well.

You got up and left the table. Your food left uneaten, no longer having an appetite. Your feet took you back to the cabin, your bunk near the back. You sat down grabbing your lyre and started practing from memory. The cords strumming out fine, but fine wasn't enough. You kept trying until it was perfect, before moving onto playing the violin your mother had insisted you also learned this summer, stating that the lyre wasn't enough anymore. Your fingers ached, but you kept going while everyone was at dinner.

----

By the time everyone was back, you were asleep the lyre and violin stuffed back under your bunk. Will was a little disappointed as he was planning to talk to you, but he didn't let himself dwell on it, he'd talk to you tomorrow.

When he woke up though, you were already gone. Your violin and lyre missing, but the rest of your stuff still here. You had gone somewhere else to practice. He was disappointed, he was. He wanted to talk to you, to try and see if you were okay.

----

You were outside by the lake, practicing the violin. The sheet music had note names scribbled in. Your hands already ached not used to playing the violin, you were miserable your brain hurt as well, from trying to read the music, but you didn't stop.

You kept doing that for a week, you weren't getting better in fact you seemed to get worse. Will's concern for you grew, his younger brother was never around him let alone around the camp at all. He didn't even know where you went off too during the day.

----

Today however you woke up, and went grab your violin and lyre but they were missing. They weren't anywhere to be seen, not under the bed, not in the cabin, not outside of the cabin. They were nowhere.

You sat down outside the cabin worried, what would you tell your mother. That you lost the new Violin your mother bought and the lyre your father had gifted you. Oh hades! What would your father even think, you lost one of the only things he ever gave you.

You put your head in your hand and just cried, you hadn't noticed the way the sun shone down on you, or the presence that appeared beside you. "My child, you must go easy on yourself." You looked up your father right beside you, his aura seemed to calm you but not enough. "I'm sorry father" the words fell out of your mouth before you could stop them, you figured he was hear to yell at you for losing the lyre. Your father shook his head, "Son, it was not your fault. You didn't lose anything, I took them." You looked at him shocked, you didn't know whether to be made at him or if you should be grateful.

"you weren't meant to do music, it's not where your abilities lie. Don't push yourself for something, that you don't want to do." You shook your head, "I can't, what would I even tell my mother. If I don't do music, I can't come back to camp." Your father sighed, "how about we talk to your mother together?" You nodded, he stood up offering you a hand, "now?" He nodded "now, son" you stood up taking his hand before he transported you both to your moms.

You stood in the kitchen trembling slightly behind your father, your mother didn't look happy. "What'd he do?" Apollo shook his head, "nothing, I took the lyre and the violin. He's not having a career in music. It's not what he was meant to do." Your mother looked pissed, but it was clear she knew better than to argue with a god. "You're not supposed to interfere directly." He shook his head. "I didn't, I acted through someone else."

He had helped Will notice y/n, and he had asked a favor from Hermes to get one of his boys to steal the lyre and violin. So he hadn't interfered directly. "My son will choose his own path." He didn't have to say anything else. Your mother knew better than to argue anymore than she had, if she argued things would probably end badly for her. She just nodded, your father smiled at you, before bringing you back to camp.

He brought you to the infirmary, walking in and bringing you towards Will. "He's gonna be working in here from now on, I think" Apollo looked down at you for approval, you had the option to say no, just having the option was enough, but you had a feeling healing was the way you wanted to go. "Yeah, if that's okay with you Will?" Will nodded smiling at you, "of course it is okay, you're a natural literally!" You smiled at your brother, going to turn around to say a 'thank you' to your father but he was gone. You had a feeling he already knew though.

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Framing Escobar Chapter 5: Developing Scandals

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog festuring porn with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given.

Specific Warnings: My terrible Spanish (I'm still learning) Some canon-typical violence/threat, guns, period typical sexism, no smut, lots of plot, Javier accidentally hurts reader physically, sexual themes, sexual tension, dead cat(yeah that moment), Javier Peña deserves his own warning. Let me know if I missed anything!

Join my taglist here

Please consider checking out my ko-fi or patreon if you want to support me!

<- Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

You bolt upright in bed, sweat beading on your brow as you hear the blood-curdling screams coming from downstairs.

Connie.

Your mind races to yourself as you leap out of bed, throwing on a pair of sweatpants, a tank top, and force your bare feet into your sneakers. On your way out of your apartment you grab your revolver from the nightstand.

Javi looks at you in bleary-eyed confusion as you race past him, he’s topless, in his boxers, with no shoes on. You shake your head angrily at him as you pause to adjust the fit on your right sneaker. You don’t bother addressing him and fly down the stairs like the avenging twenty-something with too much ego that you are. Not stopping to think rationally about the probability of sprained ankles and potential murderers at the bottom of the stairs.

You’re at the Murphy’s apartment in a flash and your hand is already on the flat of the door as you barge in. Pistol extended, eyes scanning the room but the moment you see the Murphy’s you lower your piece. They’re staring in horror at something you can’t see yet.

“Connie? Steve?” You ask gently as Steve gives you a grimace as you cross the threshold. Connie slumps into his arms as the agony washes through her whole body, eddying out into ragged sobs against her husband’s chest.

Steve gestures with a tilt of his head to whatever horror has them both so visibly shaken. He returns his attentions to his wife, murmuring something you don’t dare try and eavesdrop to hear; he smooths her hair with one of his broad hands as the other arm pins her against him.

You walk a little further into the apartment and when you see the grotesque, very clear message, your stomach churns. Mr Puff, the Murphy’s cat is strung up, bloodied fur and mutilated body on display as he hangs from the ceiling. Whoever did this took their time, and they enjoyed it.

Bastards.

You seethe as you hear the sirens echo in the distance as you realise Steve has called in the cavalry, you tear your eyes away from the poor, bloodied animal and look up at Steve.

“It’s ok hon, go back to bed, and tell Javi not to bother, I know you can persuade him.” He says softly, his usually bright eyes were bleary with tears.

“On it Steve, look after yourselves.” You say, trying to keep the fury from your tone as you step back into the hall. You hear Javi’s door close as you’re half-way up the stairwell, his boots striking the wooden floors at pace.

You jog up the last few steps to cut him off, but you hit the top step just as he launches himself down the stairwell. Your bodies collide, his shoulder striking your chin as you fall back. Your arms reach out instinctively to grip the soft cotton button down at the collar. Your teeth clack together loudly in the small space, sending pain shooting through your gums.

“Puta!” Javi calls out as he hits you, your back hits the wall with a loud crunch. You feel the air leave your lungs as you see stars. Your chest burns as you squeeze your eyes shut. All you can see is the cat, as if the image is burned into the back of your eyelids.

“You ok hermosa?” Javi’s soft drawling voice makes you shiver, despite yourself. You realise you’re still clutching the fabric of his shirt and you practically throw it from your hands as you release him. Your head spins, there’s so much pain ripping through you as you try and make sense of what just happened.

“Fucking brilliant.” You groan as you inhale the intoxicating smell of the last man in the world – aside from maybe Escobar himself – that you want to see right now. But you can’t help the way your body reacts to being so close to him, your heart is hammering in your chest, your lips parted slightly, and your pussy clenches around nothing.

Pathetic

“Hey, hey, what’s going on? talk to me.” He breathes as you slowly come back to your senses, you’re caged against the wall of the stairwell, Javi’s body pressed against yours as you struggle to regain your composure, the slick warmth between your legs doing nothing to help matters.

“They killed the Murphy’s cat, strung him up, fucking awful.” You mumble, your heart hammering in your chest as you squeeze your eyes shut, you know looking at him will set off a chain reaction you won’t be able to control. His scent, the oppressive heat of his body, the pressure of his knee between your thighs, it’s all too much.

“Steve and Connie ok though?” He asks, his voice thick with heady desire, you know he’s drinking you in. You can only imagine how you look, no bra, nipples straining against the tight white tank top, the unhindered spread of your flesh across your chest. You can feel his breath fanning over your skin in hot bursts as he makes no move to pull away.

“They’re just shaken up.” You answer, your voice shallow and breathy as you remember the way he made you fall apart under him in a position not too different from this one. You remember the sweet taste of your pussy on his tongue, the way he moaned as you teased him, goaded him, came for him.

“You ok there sweetheart?” He asks, still pinning you against the wall, still not making an effort to move away, no attempt to distance himself from you. You want to kiss him, you want to use him to forget that gruesome scene, to fulfil a need you’ve had since you woke up alone the morning after he fucked you senseless.

“I’m fine Javi, go back to bed.” You snap, trying to keep the emotion and desire from your voice. Your eyes are still clamped shut; you know that seeing his glassy mahogany eyes will undo any shred of restraint you are clinging to. You need to remove yourself from this situation. You feel him shift above you and the slow, purposeful press of his strong nose against your ear makes you shiver.

“Want to join me?” He growls softly and you hold back the moan that threatens to slip from your lips, ready to betray your base desires to him. It’s so inappropriate, the wrong time, wrong place, wrong man, but you desperately want to say yes.

“No Peña,” You hiss. The sticky, wet, evidence of your desire between your legs makes you desperate, hungry, stupid. But sense prevails, “I’m going to bed, my bed, alone.”

“You sure?” He asks softly, his one hand falling to cup your chin as he angles your face to look up at him. You wince as the knock to the chin throbs a little under his touch.

“Yes, let me go.” You breathe, your skin tingling at the way his fingers ghost your skin, you want him so much, but you can’t. Not now.

“Open your eyes.” He orders and you can’t resist the hunger in his voice. Your eyes snap open to dark, swirling pools of desire, his mouth is set in a slack-jawed smirk as he watches you react.

“Javi, let me go.” You plead, your lips trembling as your knees threaten to buckle at any moment, you shove tentatively against his shoulders with both hands, but he doesn’t move.

“Whatever you want,” he grunts as he steps back, the smirk on his face only widening as you breathe out. It’s a flustered, pathetic sound. You try to attribute it to the fact you’re still winded, but you know it was more than that, “Sleep well.”

He moves out of the way, letting you pass him on the stairs, you jog back to your apartment as quickly as your chest allows. You slam the door behind you and feel the urge to scream in frustration, or maybe it was anger, you don’t really know. Nor do you care.

All you know is that Javier Peña has a vice-grip on your heart – and maybe more importantly you cunt – and he knows it.

~*~

You spend most of the day in the basement, Alanis Morisette and other female rock bands and solo artists filling the void you feel in your chest. You had offered to develop Steve’s negatives too, and his work is good, but yours has the mark of it being your lifeblood poured into the task. The passion and experience of this being your thing meant they are just simply better. The thought makes you smile, it’s a strangely warming feeling to have pride in your work, something only photography had ever given you.  

You make sure to get the framing on the Gustavo and Pablo photos perfect, spending more time than usual, ensuring the execution is flawless for these ones. You hang the last of the photographs on the line as you hear the knock at the door.

“I’m developing! Can’t you see the light’s on?” You call out, the irritation in your tone unmasked and unfiltered.

You despair, everyone should know you don’t fuck with dark rooms. You’ll make whoever is on the other side of the door pay for it if they screw you on the final stage of development. Especially today, especially after the incident with Javier in the hallway, and the murder of the Murphy’s poor cat. Today you’re ready to swing at anyone that so much as looks at you wrong.

“It’s urgent.” The muffled voice barks through the door. The handle jiggles as they try to enter the room anyway.

“It’s locked, I’ll be out now.” Your patience is running thin as you pinch the bridge of your nose, you leave everything in place and buttress the tip of your work boot against the door as you unlock it, anticipating the immediate shove that comes from the other side.

“Step back from the door Pendejo.” You bark, not taking any risks with the fantastic shots you had captured in Medellín. The pressure on your boot eases and you slip out, you come face to face with a Colombian police officer you don’t recognise.

“What do you want? I’m busy.” You grumble as you take in the hardened face, freshly shaven head, and pristine uniform of the man in front of you. His name badge reads Trujillo.

“Agent Peña wants to see you.”  He responds with a raised eyebrow, when he was told to get the photographer from the basement he hadn’t expected a woman, let alone the twenty-something that had the gall to insult him in his own language.

“Ok I’ll be up when I’m done.” You roll your eyes, surely sending this man down to get you was a waste of his – and more importantly – your time.

“He said to bring you back up with me.” He falters for a moment, but you can tell he’s furious that you’re disobeying him.

“Well tell him that unless they want to lose the work I did yesterday, and that of Agent Murphy’s they can wait.” You snap, prodding Trujillo in the chest with your index finger aggressively.

“Fine, but Peña won’t be happy.” He glares at you for a moment before turning on his heel and walking off. You breathe out, the empowerment from telling a police officer to fuck off is exhilarating.  

You slip back into the room and busy yourself with the final stages, cleaning as you go. You’re still exhausted and want nothing more than to just throw yourself in bed and sleep. You have tomorrow off; and a lie in, junk food, and time to yourself is exactly what you need.

As you leaf through the finalised images you smile, sorting them into yours and Steve’s work. You begin to slide Steve’s into an envelope when another, more urgent knock startles you and your eyes narrow.

“I told him I’ll be there when I’m done, what does he not get about-?” You’re cut off as the door opens, you realise too late that you hadn’t locked the door on your way back in.

But it doesn’t matter, not really, your work is done. But the door opens only a fraction before the lone figure slips inside, limiting the light that bleed through the door before its sealed shut behind him. The consideration mutes some of your rage, until you see who it is. Immediately your jaw ticks to the side as you cross your arms over your chest.  

“Damn, you really pissed Trujillo off.” Javier’s voice cuts through you like a knife as he saunters over. Your pulse quickens and you hate how Pavlovian you are for this man. From the moment he had stalked over to you with Murphy just to tease the naïve tourist a burning desire had formed in your gut that you could not quell.

“Javier, I really don’t care, I’m going home, whatever you need to say, say it so I can go.” You say with a groan as you roll your stiff shoulders.

“Ok, but what’s with the attitude? I thought we were good?” He asks, his face growing stern as his brow creases and the curve of his lips press into a hard line. Ashamedly, the look of disapproval makes you squirm, his gaze boring into you as you try to keep your head.

“Because Agent Peña, I slept on it, and I don’t like being being played the fool.” You are actually proud of how confident – how self-assured – you sound, and you hold his steely gaze with your own.

“Is this about Helena?” He asks, his voice low as you watch his face contort in what you guess must be irritation.

“Of course it is Javi, and all the other women, prostitutes or not, that you are notorious for bedding and leaving hanging.” You say with all the fury and pain that had been festering for the last two days.

“Helena is the only other woman I’ve been with since I met you.” He protests but you know his heart isn’t in it, his tone is flat, sullen.

“And it’s been what, two days?” You bite back, your rage fully tapped into as you prepare a tirade of insults and abuse but then you realise you have something better. Something much more hurtful to say.

“I kissed Steve.” You admit, the nerves in your stomach fluttering as you let the admission drip from your lips like poison.

Immediately Javi’s eyes sharpen, his nostrils flare and the borderline growl he lets out is deep. It rumbles through his chest as he processes what you’re saying. The lighting in the dark room only makes his reaction more dramatic, his face is partially shadowed, and those impossibly dark eyes are almost black in the red light. He shoots you a look that’s outright possessive. 

“You did what?” His voice is barely more than a whisper and you let yourself smile at the jealousy that’s bleeding out of Javi.

“In Medellín, I kissed him.” You repeat puffing out your chest as you speak, trying to look confident as your insides swirl with anticipation. You could already feel the arousal between your legs but you weren’t going to give in, not today.

“You making this up to fuck with me?” He snarled as he balled his fists, he was trembling slightly. You had almost hoped he would be cool with it, or at the very least not care, then you could move on, forget about the broken man with no feelings. But seeing him this wound up, this angry that you had kissed someone else shows you that he cares, and that’s more dangerous than you could have anticipated.

“No, but even if I was, can you see how it feels? How I felt when I heard you and Helena? It fucking sucked.” You say, tears forming in your eyes as you remember how utterly used, betrayed and cheap you felt. The realisation of his mistake is painted on his face, even in the eerie light of the dark room, it’s coming crashing down on him like an errant meteor.

“I’m sorry, I really am.” Javier’s says as he runs a hand through his hair, his other hand limp at his side. You yearn to touch him, to comfort him, but you know he has to work through this, you can’t coddle him. He has to sit with this feeling if you’re to make it work.

“I hope so, because I don’t want this to be over, not yet,” You say as you have to stop yourself inching closer to him, “But I’m also not ready to forgive you Javi, I need time to decide if I can trust you.” You gesture between you with your hand and he reaches for you but you take a step back. His expression hardens and he nods curtly.

“Message received, I’m going to go beat on Steve for a bit, but you know where to find me if you want me, Bonita.” He sighs and walks out without another word, again being conscious about the light as he slips out of the door. The void left in his absence is sickening and you try not to think too hard about how much you wanted to just forgive him on the spot. The one silver lining in all of the pain that stabbed at your heart is his willingness to respect your boundaries.

One point in your favour Peña.

You think to yourself with a smile as you pick up the envelopes and head up to your desk. You see Trujillo on the way up and you think about what had been so important to send him to get you. Javi didn’t seem to feel the need to bring it up. You turn the corner and open up the office door and the sound of hushed arguing has you swimming in the bittersweet feeling of vindication.

“It was life or death Javi, back off.” Steve says with a bark as you cross the threshold.

“Sure it fucking was, what would Connie say if I told her?” Javi threatens and you smile despite yourself, you know Connie will find it hilarious and you were keen to fill her in on the gossip already.

“She already knows dumbass, god you’re such a fucking martyr at times.” Steve notices you as he speaks and the smile that spreads across his face is infectious.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” You say, your tone sickly sweet as Javi whirls around to look at you, “Just here to drop off my photos. Remember I’m off tomorrow, oh and Steve?”

“What’s up hon? Here to watch Peña get his ass kicked?” He asks with his usual bouncy cadence.

“Nah, just stopping by to say you need to work on your photography, I left you in the dust.” You wink and the laugh that erupts from Steve is delightful. You can see why Connie is so smitten with the man, even if he isn’t your type.

“Have a good day off hon.” He says with a shake of his head. Javier stares you down and you smile at him, he returns it sheepishly but immediately turns away and you feel the deep pang of sadness in your chest. For all his bluster, his womanising bravado, he does have a soft side and you felt like you’d just kicked a puppy. But something inside you is proud, proud that you set boundaries, proud that you made yourself heard.

You head home, practically dancing along the sidewalks of Bogotá as you celebrate your resolve, and the fact you had made the Javier Peña jealous. You stop by the local market and pick up some carb-heavy snacks, a few bottles of wine, some whisky, and some fresh oranges. You head to your apartment and put away the haul of snacks and booze.

You take a quick shower and put on a short red and black sun dress. You hate wearing dresses, but the oppressive heat of Colombia forces your hand more often than you’d like. You don’t bother with a full face of make-up, it’ll just end up running straight off in this heat, so you opt for some mascara and a splash of lip gloss before heading down to meet Connie.

Javier’s door is shut but you try not to think about him right now, tonight is supposed to be about you and Connie, a night to go out and let off some steam. You trot down the stairs, humming tunelessly as you reach their front door. You knock and Connie is out in seconds, her loose linen trousers and pink blouse stunning as she forces a smile.

“Hey Connie, let’s go dancing.” You say with as much enthusiasm as you muster, pulling a more genuine smile from the older woman as she takes your arm in hers. “I’ve got a better idea, let’s go get drunk.” She laughs and you head out onto the streets of Bogotá.

Join my taglist here

@ktheunready @harriedandharassed @survivingandenduring @neverwheremoonchild @noisynightmarepoetry @casa-boiardi @xoxabs88xox @guelyury @its-nebuleuse @deadly-femme-bimbo @christinamadsen @mirandablue1 @clawdee @youandmeand5bucks-blog @hiddenbabynyc @stevie75 @star017 @vabeachazn @darkheartgatita @anoverwhelmingdin @pedroshotwifey @bitchwitch1981 @dameron-grant-spector @livingdeadmaria @cantbenameds-blog @nashja @robertpattinsoninthetracksuit [Let me know if you want to be removed at any time!]

Please consider checking out my ko-fi or patreon if you want to support me!

[museeofmoon]

𝑴𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒚,13𝒕𝒉 𝒋𝒖𝒏𝒆 | tried a new editing style! I hope y'all like it. As for updates I'm done with finals and practs and nowdays I'm just cramming up all the material for NEET though I had a Lil burnout so yesterday it was kind of a reset day, went out with mum and ended the day with some treat in honor of me finishing highschool. Oh also! Happy 9 years!💜

🎧: 𝑴𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒑_𝑩𝑻𝑺

[callme-whatyoulike]

Part of the Band

ahhh, i actually really like this one. a couple of the lines came to me, and i just had to write them down. this one is actually mentioned a bit in "The Sound!" this was actually started before it, but i just finished it like yesterday. aaanyway. there's like, the itty-bittiest bit of smut. hope you enjoy, byeee ♡♡

I was at a party. I can't quite recall who's now, someone I didn't really know, only shared a mutual friend or two with. But now I'm being walked home. It's late. Not another soul seems to be awake, here in the suburbs. Only the dim glow of streetlamps greet us and light our path.

It's just me and Matty. No one else in the world.

And we're drunk off our asses.

Okay, maybe not entirely wasted. But it's a good thing I'm not walking alone. Though, Matty had about as much to drink as I did. We both know we shouldn't be alone together when we're this drunk. Not because we'll be killed or anything. But our judgment and good decision making skills are completely out the window.

Matty's laughing about something as I check back into reality, no longer fixated on the outline of the clouds against the moon.

"Sorry, what'd you say?"

"Jesus, you really are drunk. I've never seen you like this before."

"You haven't known me all that long."

"I suppose that's true." He thinks about this for a moment. "I do like to think I know you pretty well, though."

I laugh at this. "Do you, now?"

"I do."

"What do you know about me?"

He starts walking a little slower. Brushes some curls off of his forehead, only for them to fall right back in place. "Your favorite color is blue."

"What makes you say that?"

"You have a lot of blue clothes," he says simply, as if it made perfect sense.

"I just look good in blue."

He looks over at me. He says a little seriously, "Darling, you look good in everything." I look away from him, uncomfortable by his slight change in tone. His sincerity.

"What else?"

He thinks again. "You don't judge a book by its cover."

"That's true."

"You believe in second chances."

"Depends, but yes."

He falls silent. Thinking some more. In his silence, I say, "I know you also believe in second chances." Matty looks at me curiously.

"And that you don't take any sugar in your tea."

"Obviously."

I think some more. "It's hard when you're on the spot," he says quietly. We reach the block for my apartment and Matty begins walking even slower.

"I know...we'd probably be no good for each other," he says, almost laughing. I look at him curiously, but he's not looking at me. I'll play along then.

"Our egos are absurd," I agree.

"Among other issues."

"You don't even know my favorite color," I laugh.

We've reached my apartment, stopping at the front door. Matty stands in front of me, slightly less drunk but still nowhere near sober. I'm much the same. He's staring down at me, a strange expression written on his face.

Under the faded moonlight and the dim streetlamps, it's almost like he's glowing, the edges of his features etched out by warm light. His curly hair, his nose, his chin, even the small bit of his chest peeking out from his slightly unbuttoned shirt.

"I don't know what you're thinking, either," he tells me, not moving an inch.

"Probably bad things." I take a step closer to him and he takes this small movement as a sign to close the gap between us even further, grabbing my arm gently, drifting up to my shoulder, the neckline of my shirt, tracing my collarbone. "What are you thinking, Healy?" I ask, slightly breathless at his touch.

"Lustful things." I hum in response. Lift my hand to his chest, tracing my finger from between his collarbones, down his sternum. He nearly shudders at the action, his breathing laboring slightly.

"Thought you said we'd be bad for each other." I smile. "Unless you're admitting you're wrong, for a change?"

This makes him give a strangely shy smile. If I know one thing about Matthew Healy, it's that he's never shy. "Maybe I am," he replies. I rest my whole hand on his chest. His heart's practically beating out of it.

"Why don't you do something about it?"

He looks down at my lips, for just a second, leans in, and kisses me. It's like a wildfire, an explosion, setting us both off, spreading through our veins. Matty's hands grab my waist and we back up against the door, his body pressed against mine, his warmth spreading through my chest. My hands tangle into his hair, one of his gently holds my jaw. These kisses are heavy, desperate. Like he said, lustful. I'm guilty of the same thoughts.

Despite the heated desperation, I fumble with my keys, barely managing to open the door. I grab Matty by the collar of his shirt and pull him inside, slamming the door behind us, now pressing him against it, my hands finding their way back to his hair and his chest. He steadily holds my waist, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt, brushing against my skin lightly but not daring to go any further.

Through breathless lips between kisses, I manage to say, "You can touch me."

He pulls away, looking me in the eyes. He tilts his head slightly. His voice is hoarse as he asks, "Are you sure?" There it is again. That shyness. It's endearing, in a way. So different from how Matty normally is. Self-assured, overconfident, egotistical Matty, caving in from a kiss.

I find myself, against my better judgment, reaching for his face, my thumb brushing his bottom lip, his cheekbone, his jaw. My heartbeat quickens. Not from the heat of the moment or the thought of what's going to happen next, but from the way he's looking at me, really looking, his hesitation, asking if this is okay.

An awful, strange, fluttering feeling runs through my chest; I'm nervous. I realize this is no longer driven just by lustful thoughts and drunken actions. I think he does, too. But we can deal with that another time.

"I'm sure."

Without any hesitation, Matty's hands are trailing up my back and his lips are against mine. I unbutton his shirt, exploring his shoulders, his chest, his ribs. He shrugs the shirt off, our mouths breaking apart, and he takes this opportunity to pull my shirt over my head. We stop, for just a moment, taking each other in. I've never seen him shirtless before...he has more tattoos than I thought.

"You're gorgeous," he whispers, echoing my own thoughts. At a loss for words, all I can think to do is kiss him again, desperate to speed this up, desperate for his hands all over me. I kiss his neck as he begins fiddling with the clasp of my bra. "God," he groans. "Where's the bedroom?"

I grab his hand and lead him away.

[atalossofwords]

YOU TASTE THE SILVER - IvanTill WIP (Part 5&6)

And we have two more POVs on this one! I was posting just one at a time to give myself a buffer to posting on AO3, but I wrote more than I expected haha.

That's right! The first chapter is now up on ao3 on this link. Please come by and leave some kudos!!

part one - part two - part three - part four

Things move on smoothly for Till. He's used to his new apartment, his set-up is pinterest-worthy if Hyuna has anything to say about it, and he's even opened his PO box again, warning his fans to only send letters and small packages, since he really enjoyed reading what everyone had to say.

(He's actually working on a collage of sorts, decking out one wall of his office with the letters. He always feels warm, looking at them. Kirby sent a really cute letter full of mongmong stickers, Bonbon's kid drew a really cute crayon rendition of his dad peering at his phone while vacuuming, and Jaewoon sent about 5 different drawings he treasures greatly.)

Leaving his PO box open, however, also means Navi has been sending a never-ending stream of little gifts. Almost none of them come with letters, or if they do, they're brief and printed from a computer. Apparently, since Till only comments on the contents of the gifts if he happens to wear them on-stream and said viewer comments on it, Navi decided that's the perfect excuse to spoil Till without making him lose his composure on-stream.

So far, Till has gotten; a new sweater, a varied collection of rings, a bundle of cellphone charms after he commented the string he looped through the case to hold his phone in case it falls frayed away.

Apparently, Navi also managed to walk around the "small package" limitation by sending gift cards for several stores. Till had no idea furniture stores even did gift cards.

He felt… sort of warm. If it was just an old man looking to spend his money or lure Till in, they'd probably insist on more diamonds or expensive stuff, right? Or insist Till comment on the gifts live, if it was some sort of sasaeng looking for attention.

Navi never did any of those things. After the diamonds, the gifts were never something Till would consider super expansive, unless you counted the frequency of them. The rings were silver, but none had jewels, the phone charms looked like something Till himself could get online, except the tags on them showed they were bought in Taiwan. The gift cards were weirder, but nothing more expensive than what Navi would donate over the course of one or two streams.

That is, until this latest gift.

Till stares at it, feeling the bottom of his stomach give out. He's in his kitchen, back from a supermarket run after he picked his latest batch of letters. He was going to read them while he ate lunch, but he feels 0 interest in his food right now.

He's holding two tickets for Mizi's concert, in the VIP section. One of those that comes attached to a meet-and-greet.

Clipped to them in an inconspicuous pink paperclip is a note.

I don't know if you got tickets for yourself, but I won these and will be out of the country at the time. I hope you can enjoy them with someone else. If the staff needs any information about the VIP status, here's my number. (xx) xxx-xxx. - Navi.

It is a handwritten note, written with a black pen in a hurry, so much so Till has to squint to make some of it out. The handwriting looks like someone who's not used to writing, with lots of places where the pen left marks as it hovered over the page without gliding, except the signature, which looks practed and neat.

Till has no idea what to do about this.

He calls Hyuna.

"Hi, I'm live." She answers, and he swears. He forgot to account for her streaming hours. He must sound agitated enough it worries her, because there's the sound of a few buttons being pressed, probably muting herself. "Till?"

He takes a deep breath.

"Sorry, I can call later." He says, putting the tickets down carefully and taking his lunch to the sink. He won't finish it.

"It's fine, what happened?"

"Navi sent in another gift." He can practically feel her rolling her eyes equal parts exasperated and relieved.

"Till, if you called me to fawn over your potential sugar daddy–"

"It's two tickets to Mizi's concert, VIP, with a meet-and-greet. And a number to contact if there's problems getting in." He says quickly, interrupting her. He runs one hand through his hair, starting to get stressed. Is this a trick? Is Navi going to be waiting on the seat besides these, corner Till in the show? No, they wouldn't send two tickets if this was the case.

"Holy shit." Hyuna says, entirely surprised. He makes a little agreeable noise. "Holy shit, Till, these aren't just expensive, they're like, hard to get. Did you message them yet?"

Till shakes his head, then realizes she can't see it. "No, I didn't call or message. Should I?" On the other side of the line Hyuna makes a tsk sound.

"No, don't call or message it. Let me finish the stream normally, and then we can look into it, okay? You said two tickets right? If you decide to go, take me or Isaac, and it should be alright." Till hums his agreement, and lets Hyuna go to finish her stream. It's a good plan, Hyuna can and has punched guys who harassed her, and Isaac is built like a brick house, no way a weirdo is getting close to him with Isaac there.

Dewey is probably a bad idea, he's more likely to punch first and ask questions never.

Till sighs, puts the tickets back on the envelope and goes take a bath, hoping it'll help him relax and maybe bring back his appetite.

Ivan is taking a water break from rehearsals when his phone chimes with a notification from an unknown number.

He immediately feels dread, did his number get leaked? He sits up, putting his water bottle down and opening the message.

Unknown [ 3:24PM ] Is this Navi?

Ivan blinks at the message, not understanding it for a long second. And then he is hit with the memories of staying up at night some days ago, reviewing the footage from the day's shoot and going over the script time and time again, because his performance was horrible and the whole scene had to be scrapped and he was so frustrated, and…

And Sua sent a message asking if he'd meet her for Mandated Lunch Time before Mizi's concert next month, and he remembered he couldn't make it since he'd be shooting that day, and he thought.

Till likes Mizi. Ivan has Mizi tickets.

He doesn't even remember what he wrote on the damn letter, oh god, did he sign with his name? Plaster his address on it??

This is fine. Ivan is fine. He asks one of the fight coordinators for five minutes and heads into the bathroom.

You [ 3:25PM ] Yes, who is it?

Better to see what they know before saying anything incriminating.

Unknow [ 3:25PM ] This is Till. Did you really send me Mizi tickets? How did you even get them?

Okay. Deep breaths, Ivan. You can do it. Say this is Navi, you really sent the tickets and that it's no big deal, and you got them… How did you get them? You can't say your real name, and saying you bought them for Till would sound weird, these really are expansive.

Ivan takes a deep breath, and sits on the toilet's lid, crossing his legs to rest his elbows on his knees.

You [ 3:26PM ] Hyung, you always said you liked them, and I happened across these as a job perk. I'll be out of the country, so it was no problem to give them to you.

Unknow [ 3:26PM ] A job perk? Even if that's true, they can't have been cheap. I've already told you, there's no need to keep wasting money on me.

You [ 3:27PM ] It's not wasting money, hyung. I really enjoy your lives, and it makes me happy knowing you're enjoying yourself. I work in the industry, so I know some people who are much less talented than you with a lot more opportunities. I just wanted to give you something to enjoy.

Ivan's fingers are flying over the keyboard before he's even conscious of it, indignation flaring up in his chest. Till works so much, he produces and sings and plays the guitar and drums, he writes his own lyrics, he's so incredibly talented and it makes Ivan furious to know he doesn't see it.

Ivan's been in the spotlight since he was a child acting on toy commercials, met even more people when he and Sua acted together as the twins of a famous singer on a period drama, and there's so many of these so-called "idols" that have a pretty voice and body and nothing else to give. So many actors bank on their looks and have 0 dedication to the craft. It makes Ivan livid.

You [ 3:27PM ] Hyung is so hard-working, and I really wish you'd see it. Your music deserves to be sold on albums and people should praise you so much more for how good your lyrics are. The people I work with don't put half the effort Hyung does, and they get to go to shows and afterparties all the time. I just want to let Hyung see his Idol and have a good time, since I won't use the tickets anyway. Is that bad?

Ivan is… breathing hard. He's somehow lost his cool. He watches as the three dots appear and disappear, and decides to get up. He exits the stall, splashes some water on his face, combs his hair back. Does a breathing exercise his mother taught him and Sua when his father and Sua's mom were fighting, and looks back at his phone.

Unknow [ 3:28PM ] Thank you. I'll enjoy the show.

Unknow [ 3:29PM ] Can I still message this number after it?

Ivan lets out an entirely undignified squeal, and almost does a little victory dance, all previous frustration wipes clean. Till wants to keep talking! Till isn't rejecting him!! Ivan has Till's phone number!!

You [ 3:29PM ] Yes! Hyung can message me whenever <3 I'll do my best to answer!

Unknow [ 3:30PM ] Great. I'll let you know how the show goes, then.

Ivan may be getting ready for a heart attack at the tender age of 22, but he's never regretted anything, in his life, ever.

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Day 5

Race

Unfortunately this is short and late but at least it's out XD, both the sixth entry for Linktober Shadow and following this one should be regularly posted if I'm not too sleep deprived because I am having way too much fun writing them.

Shout out to the Four fans because they are extremely based, and a small love letter to the Minish Cap, I adore the Minish to death and they're really neat, shame we don't talk about them more.

Can be read as platonic or romantic and in or outside a LU context.

If you had to say anything about the Smithy’s Hyrule, is that it was heartbreakingly charming.

It wasn’t as vast as any of the others, not quite the reclaimed and untamed nature of Sky’s anymore but not yet the most concrete form to the rigid Hyrule that stood on it’s own feet by Warriors’ time for as long as it could with the unyieldingness of granite, that didn’t mean you didn’t adore it to death, with it’s growing oaks and flourishing May lilacs and cerise autumn shades that came dancing in with all it’s cicada laughing whimsy and kindness with the raw and unapologetic stubbornness of a hunting Lynel, inviting and goading and jeering you into exploring every little crack you could until there wasn’t anymore left to see. Fitting for Four, the Hero as kind as he is stubborn and arguably the most clever and rational of the Chain (well, as rational as any of your boys ever were, can’t be the Hero of Courage without being some mix of crazy, genius, a bit of na oblivious fool or all three) on sheer account of the way he looked that challenge right in the face and decided to double down and apply it to his life in general, it was charming and you all adored him for it.

“-Alright, so you stick close to me ok? The other’s can’t see you but as soon as they’re asleep-“

... Which was why you were rightfully worried when you seemingly walked in on him talking to himself when going to get him from a water fetching run, the line between insanity and genius was really fine and something in you just knew Four would be the type to stumble headfirst into shenanigans caused by his own hubris and then not tell anyone about it unless under threat of death because prying anything out of him was like trying to pull a lynel’s teeth out.

“Link?”, he jumped, frantically hiding his hands behind his back and looking so incredibly suspicious you couldn’t help but look around already, “Look, I’m not judging or anything. But I’d like some forewarning if I have to hide a body because I didn’t bring a shovel.“

He chokes, startling into a laugh, it’s warm and startled, you think you spot verdant and crimson in his gaze and can’t help your own smile, “Wha- Why would that be the first jump you made?!”

You gestured to him, skipping closer to his personal space, not too close, you knew that he could be like a feral cat about his boundaries, but enough that he wouldn’t be able to run away, “I mean you are looking suspicious and talking to yourself. Pardon me making some leaps in logic with the information I have at hand.”

He gives you a look, a small ‘Hah’ escaping him, deadpan, before he leans back a bit, looking away, “You’re ridiculous, I was just... Practing some acting? For the upcoming Picoto Festival?”

Now it was your turn to give him a blank look, raising an eyebrow for good measure.

He winces, shaking his head, shifting onto his feet and pointedly not looking at you, “... In hindsight that’s not my best one.”

“Not by far, but I’ll let it slide.”, you place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and he relaxes into the touch with a sigh, some times he’s glad you can see through him, other times he’s not sure he shouldn’t be a bit concerned, “Now, what’s bothering you? How can I help you?”

After a second, he looks at you, considering amethyst warring with the prism of his gaze, studying, analyzing like he would a weapon, before finally speaking, “Can I trust you not to say anything? And to not think I’m crazy?”

“Really not helping with my running theory you killed someone and need help disposing of the body.” You snipe back drily, but nodding anyway, “But you can, promise.”

He nods, then finally draws his hand from behind is back, reaching into his hood with a quiet, soothing murmur of ‘it’s alright’, you swear you hear a small sound, somewhere between a high pitched squeak and a chirp.

You gasp softly, the little being’s tail swishes, squeaking up at you, Four smiles a bit crookedly. Slumping shoulders betraying his relief, “I’ll take it you can see them?”

You nod, gently waving to the small, ivory colored mice like creature, “Mhm, hello. What’s a Minish doing here all alone?”

Four tilts his head, ears twitching as the Minish squeaks up at you, waving back, feathery tail swishing as they gesture animatedly, their leaf cloak swaying with the movement, “You know of them? And they got stranded here after it rained, I was going to help them get back to the village since we’re close by and well...” He trails off.

“I do, never thought I’d be able to see one though. And you didn’t think anyone else could either.” You smile apologetically at the Minish, “Sorry buddy, I can’t understand you.”

They squeak, ears going down, then perk up gesturing to their head as Four chuckles, “They ended up losing their hat, wanna help me look for a new one before we set off?”

You grin back, nodding, “Of course! Do you mind translating? I’d love to know more about them if you're up for sharing and they're okay with talking.”

“It’s a bit of a long story, are you sure?” Four asked hesitantly, placing the Minish on their shoulders, they squeak from their new perch, giving you a little nod.

“Well, it’s a good thing we have time.” You smile, locking your arm with his.