#it's fucking sick. none of you people give a fuck about harm. none of you people give a fuck about anything but what you want

[lightningfilledsaber]

Man I'm just at the point where like. I can't. anymore. lmfao. There's absolutely no fucking nuance in the kink community. I can't stand it. Cannot trust a single fucking person because half of them think that anything but the more "mainstream" aspects of kink and fetish make you completely morally bankrupt while the other half genuinely believe everything goes as long as there's no "real" situations/kids/family/etc etc involved. For fuck's sake. I'm into hardcore shit and I recognize and practice that even things I'm personally uncomfortable with aren't inherently harmful. But that doesn't fucking mean there isn't a LINE. The reason these spaces, like any space for minority, marginalized, etc etc communities, are safe is because there is a level of gatekeeping. All "radical acceptance" does is permit actual abusers and REAL HARM into places that are SUPPOSED TO BE safe. In pursuit of harm reduction and destigmatization, we've been letting the line fucking deteriorate. You'd think for communities full of MINORITIES we'd collectively understand that the "majority opinion" is not necessarily going to be the best or least harmful one. JUST "no REAL __" is not gonna fucking cut it. I've been wanting to write an honest to god essay about this for the longest time but the more I see people stop giving a shit the more hopeless and fucking TIRED I become. There are some things that shouldn't HAVE to be explained for people to understand is fucking WRONG. We can all collectively understand this but somehow people stop giving a shit when it comes to confronting it about themselves and the things they've allowed themselves to become complacent with. "This is wrong" is not automatically fucking puritan """thought crime""" rhetoric JUST AS "this isn't wrong" is not automatically fucking ""evil depraved abuser"" shit. Come the fuck ON man. Not a single fucking one of you gives a shit about harm reduction OR survivors, whether it be on the anti OR pro kink end, and it fucking SUCKS because I refuse to be equated to the kink equivalent of a fucking centrist for trying to keep my own fucking community SAFE and SANE.

[strawberrystepmom]

pairing: Kenjaku x F!Reader, past Geto Suguru x F!Reader

word count: 3.6k

about: you become kenjaku's captive to ensure that he will not miss his opportunity to fight the strongest after his return from the prison realm. the temptation of being this close to the last remaining earthly fragment of the man you once loved, suguru, proves too much to resist and you give into your desires despite the hole they're bound to leave.

contents: NSFW - MINORS DNI. DARK CONTENT WARNING, MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS FOR CH 236 AND BEYOND | dubcon, manipulation, violence against reader, asphyxiation, kidnapping | reader is a sorcerer and went to school with geto and they had mutual feelings for one another, mentions of religion and references to god, kenjaku retained some of geto's memories and knows reader through them, reader has breasts and descriptions of vaginal anatomy are given, rough piv sex with little prep, reader is referred to as "girl", major character death (off screen).

notes: i've uh....been going through some things lately LMAO tbh i started this awhile back before thanksgiving but have felt weird about posting it and it very nearly stayed in the "between me and god" folder so i held back but today i said fuck it. if you read, thanks and i hope you enjoy!!!

header art is by jenny holzer and divider is by @/cafekitsune ♡

“The old occupant of this vessel was very fond of you, you know?”

How dare Kenjaku mention Suguru so casually, as if he were a tenant to his own flesh and bone instead of its rightful owner? 

“You know nothing about him,” The words are full of venom, flying from your mouth not unlike the way you spat at the curse user’s face two days prior to now. He chuckled when the fluid hit his cheek, wiping it off without a second thought. “Or me.” 

You felt so guilty for spitting at his face, the face of a man you once believed that you loved, that you wept until you began to dry heave atop the futon mattress in the room that has been designated as yours. It’s the same bed you rest on now, duvet over your knees that are hiked to your chest. It’s a means to protect yourself from any vulnerability but it’s truly no use. If Kenjaku wants to harm you, he will.

He has insisted your accommodations be comfortable since arriving three days ago given you are collateral and not a captive, his own clever wording for the situation, but you’re more than aware that if you were to attempt to escape from the cage that you’d hit the window just as all birds hungry for a taste of freedom do. There are no cuffs, chains, or bars but your freedom is no longer yours. It is a prize to be won pending the defeat of the man standing across from you in the doorway, shoji door open beside him, flowing hair as dark as the midnight sky brushing the backs of his elbows.

For years you wondered what you’d do if faced with Suguru again. Would you strike him, insisting he deserved it for all the hurt left in his wake? Ask him why in a scream so powerful your shoulders would shake with the weight of your fury? Perhaps you’d forgive him, as you’d been taught and encouraged to do your entire life, and those mumbled prayers cast to the God you believe in above you would be true for the first time since they’ve left your treacherous lips. 

“I forgive him, I hope you can, too.” You have begged God aloud and silently since sixteen years old. You have always been devout in your faith despite abandoning most of the tenets that make someone a believer, your lack of devotion not enough to deter you from selfishly asking for absolution for a man who you know deserves none.

God’s answer is clear when faced with the fact that this is not Geto standing in front of you. There is no less mercy a person can be shown than their body being used as a sick prop after their death.

The space where his thoughts and dreams and hopes used to lie is occupied by something far worse than just visions of a world purified through means of violence, a place where people like you could live without the threat of death and sacrifice to keep others safe. Granted, that wasn’t exactly a noble purpose either, but at least it didn’t threaten your life the way that whatever lives inside of his skull does now.

“I know more about both of you than you think.” 

Kenjaku’s words drip with smugness and your stomach flips. The natural responses of your body to a man who looks and sounds just like Suguru make you sick but you cannot focus on fighting them off and keeping yourself protected at the same time, you have to simply make peace with the butterflies in your stomach that feels like something is punching you in the gut over and over again. He dares enter the room and you scoot further up the futon, hitting the wall behind you and leveling a glare in his direction.

Suguru’s body reacts to you, as well, something that Kenjaku planned long ago to use to his advantage. It started with hazy dreams, a face he recognized as yours drifting through them, your thighs and your lips and your skirt. It’s a version of you a little younger, a little warmer - less edgy than you are now. You are sharp and finely tuned to harm while the version of you that lived in Geto’s mind will forever stay soft, a freshly unfurled rose.

“All you’ve done is vandalize him,” you accuse and he shrugs, dressed in a cotton yukata rather than the robes he stole in addition to the body they dressed. It’s easy to imagine another life where this is Suguru and you are you and he’s coming to your shared bedside, kneeling on the ground the same way Kenjaku is now while he invites himself to the only space you currently have as your own.

“You’re a smart girl, don’t play dumb.” Your glance moves from the doorway to him, disgusted by how brave he is getting this close to you. “Perhaps I’m simply using the power this body holds in the way he was too cowardly to attempt.”

Despite your current state of sitting in nothing but a yukata yourself, you are physically strong from spending the last decade of your life as nothing more than a glorified weapon to use in the fight against evil. Even if your Cursed Technique would be unlikely to have any effect on the man, you could be a difficult problem for him if you wanted to be, yet you sit and do nothing but wait and refuse to respond to his words. He chuckles at your stubbornness and reaches across the bed and your body to grab your chin between his thumb and index finger. He shifts your head until you’re staring directly at him and a smile crosses his lips.

You do not fight him off.

“Tell me, sorcerer,” he starts and you swallow, bottom lip quivering. You want to reach out and slap him away, to scream and kick but your body stays still, the only place blood is pooling between your legs and in the heat of your face. “Where are those teeth and claws you were so eager to show me on your first night here?”

He reaches his thumb upward and presses it against your mouth, stopping the shake with a single touch - your body’s natural reaction to a man you are now certain you loved, given it’s the only explanation for your behavior. It’s a form of trust, the muscle memory of a kiss he gave you in your dorm room at the school you once shared. The first night you were spitting and hissing, now you’re so placid.

“Nothing to say for yourself?”

Stubbornly, you shake your head and Kenjaku chuckles again, pulling his thumb away from your lip but maintaining the grip on your chin. You know this is not Suguru, it’s as clear as the stitches across the forehead of the practically empty vessel that further closes in on you. He moves silently until he’s mere inches away from you, his head hovering over your knees that are still pulled against your chest. You watch him with narrowed eyes, tucking against yourself tighter than you ever have as a means of comfort, but it does nothing to stop him from lingering.

“I could just make you speak if I wanted to,” he warns. The power in this situation belongs to him.

“What’s the point of fighting you? You’re going to do whatever you want with me anyway.” You admit, defeated. Whatever fight you had left in you was smothered weeks ago during the attack on Shibuya. Even the release of Gojo is not enough to fill you with hope for the future. It’s pointless to keep fighting when the only outcome is going to be loss.

The shaky sound of your voice makes the curse user move closer to you and you shut your eyes tightly, refusing to look at him lest your body continue with these inexplicable natural responses. Heart pounding against your chest, it’s inexplicably frustrating that it cannot seem to separate what your brain knows is true from what your body wants to believe.

It isn’t him, you scream within the confines of your own mind but it does not prevent your palms from feeling clammy and the squeeze of your inner thighs against each other to provide some relief against the heat in your core.

It isn’t him. It isn’t him. It isn’t him…

Chanting the words internally, you open your eyes and are met with a pair of golden ones staring directly at you. They’re the same that stared at you in a dorm room a decade ago although they’re missing the warmth they had back then, dripping honey sweetness hidden in the irises turned to tar. 

“You’re right, I can.” He nods and dark hair falls over his eyes, catching your eye. Your stomach turns when you spot the stitches across his forehead but your gaze returns to his so quickly you can hardly think about it. “But will it be what I want or is it what this body desires, I wonder?”

This piques your interest and Kenjaku tilts his head to the side inquisitively, dark hair sweeping over your knees and around your body. It feels like a curtain, a veil like the ones you are so used to using to keep people safe and ignorant and outside of your world of sorcery.

“What do you mean?”

A smirk is the response you are granted and he moves closer to you, one of his hands reaching for the duvet you’re using to cover you. Pulling it back gently, your robe covered body coming into view and once again, you make no effort to fight. With this barrier removed, he runs his palm over the outside of your thigh. Muffling your whimper at the touch, you attempt to hide your face in your shoulder but he stops you, still grasping onto your chin and still holding your gaze.

“Interesting.” 

His hand travels from the outside of your thigh to the insides and you gently spread them to allow him access before realizing what he’s searching for. Attempting to cut off his access by closing your legs, he holds your thigh in place and lets his fingers dip lower along the soft skin. You quiver and shake beneath him like a leaf clinging to the branches of a tree in winter, desperate for somewhere to remain, and those fingers inch closer and closer to your core. He stops when he feels the coarse hair covering your mound and dares to dip a single fingertip between your folds, raising his eyebrows when he feels the arousal seeping from you. 

“I knew it,” he whispers so low you wonder if you were even meant to hear it but the way he gazes at you, like that of a man starved, tells you that the words were meant for no one but you.

Your hand shakes as much as the rest of you when you finally lift it from your side, reaching out to him and taking a strand of hair between your fingers. It feels just as you imagined it would, silk between your digits, and a breathy sigh leaves you before you begin to cry. Dropping the small strand, you choose to reach out toward his forehead and use your hand to block the stitches covering it.

“Suguru.”

You babble the name like it is precious, your lip quivering just as it did before, and the evil man shakes his head, capturing your wrist with the hand he just removed from your chin. He lowers your hand enough that you can see the stitches unobscured.

“Kenjaku, actually.” 

He lowers your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles, amused when you squirm where you sit, practically delirious with lust and confusion. You do not want this, at least that’s what you tell yourself while parting your legs further and panting, chest heaving with every breath.

Wordlessly, he uses his free hand to untie your robe and it falls off of your shoulders, exposing you to him fully before he can blink. This is something he remembers seeing in one of those dreams but you look different than whatever the imagination of a man who was infatuated with you was able to come up with during his loneliest hours. It amuses Kenjaku that he is the one to see you like this, bare and willing. 

Tracing down your belly and lower, he stops between your legs which makes you whimper. You’re so desperate to be touched, to pretend he is someone you’ll never have the opportunity to love as properly as you could have if you’d both lived a different life, that your hips actually arch off of the bed eagerly. It should embarrass you but you are past the point of humiliation, willing to be fucked by evil incarnate just for the sake of a taste of Suguru Geto.

“Pathetic little thing,” he coos and you say nothing in return. You’re well aware of your failings as a sorcerer and a human being as his fingers spread your labia to get a glance at what you have to offer. For a moment, you consider praying for Suguru again; to selfishly beg God to make sense of your own actions but you know that he no longer has mercy for an ill behaved member of his flock. You will simply accept the consequences, whatever they will be.

His thumb brushes your clit and you moan, tipping your head back and toward the ceiling. You wait for the sensation of pleasure to climb through you again but it doesn’t come until you look downward again, eyes fluttering open.

“Eyes on me or you get nothing.”

Too afraid to look away lest it keep you from the only good thing you’ve felt in who knows how long, you keep your eyes glued to Kenjaku’s face while his hand works between your legs, spreading the slick from your cunt toward your clit and back down. If you could just shut your eyes, you could pretend, but they’re open and glued between your legs, watching every feathery stroke of his fingers through your folds.

Kenjaku’s cock hardens against your thigh and for a moment you dare to feel powerful knowing you aren’t the only one surrendering to the most base of your needs. He drops your hand and reaches for the tie of his robe, opening it and giving you the only look you’ve ever been lucky enough to get of Suguru’s bare body.

Scarred, honed, a tool - just like yours. If you weren’t so lost in the moment, the lifetimes you have imagined for years would be playing through your mind.

You gasp and knit your brows together, bucking against the increasing pressure of Kenjaku’s fingers while he brings you back to him and out of your head. Whatever you’re thinking about doesn’t matter when he inserts a finger inside of you, only testing how wet you are with no intention of preparing you for his cock. 

When he’s satisfied with how wet you are, he withdraws his finger and you whine. The sound is the most he has heard from you since the first night and it makes his eyes widen in interest. He shifts until he is standing between your spread knees and the realization that this is really happening hits you at once, your face flaming with desire.

“You’re so impatient.” 

The curse user tuts at you with a roll of his eyes and spreads your legs as wide as they can go to accommodate the width of his body. He’s broad in shoulder and hip and you bite your lower lip when he runs the head of his cock through your folds, following the same pattern of his fingers. You expect the teasing to last longer but it stops abruptly. Before you can take a breath to prepare yourself, his cock is buried to the hilt inside of you, and you gasp with wide eyes, shocked. 

“As good as you imagined?”

Words come to your mind but do not form enough to leave your mouth while he thrusts roughly, your body jerking violently against his. It’s painful, the size of him with little prep in conjunction with how he uses your body as nothing more than a glorified place to take his aggression out, but all of the numbness within you thaws and for the first time since you realized Geto was no longer Geto in Shibuya, you feel. 

It’s hard to name all the emotions you are experiencing because they blur into something barely comprehensible. Pleasure and pain and bone chilling sorrow, the kind that makes tears silently drip down your face while he takes what he wants from you. He doesn’t bother to play with your clit and there is no need to, the joy you’re taking simply from being used by Suguru’s body enough that the knot inside of you is slowly beginning to unravel. 

Skin on skin punctuated by his low grunts and your whines fill the small room and you are so lost, you lift yourself halfway up to meet Kenjaku and consider kissing him. Would it be close enough to kissing Suguru that you could eventually justify it or would it just sully the one good memory you have of him? 

You don’t have long to think about it before you are pushed back down to the bed, one of his hands caging your throat and keeping you pinned to the bed below. A reminder that this is for his pleasure and not yours although you feel yourself coming closer to the edge than you were just moments prior, shutting your eyes tightly. All of the motion inside of you stops, the hard thrusts of his cock ending, and your eyes shoot open.

“Remember what I said. Eyes on me or you get nothing.”

Nodding, you keep them open and he begins again, pace rougher than before. You can do nothing but grunt and struggle to breathe, his cock carving out space inside of you that didn’t exist until he entered you. Every kiss of his tip against your insides knocks the breath out of you and finally you cum in a strangled moan, walls quivering around his length. 

His hand inches further up your throat and squeezes experimentally. As expected, you do not fight back and he takes his indulgence with a grin, choking you with varying degrees of pressure and feeling your cunt spasm around him when he surprises you by tightening his grip. 

You like this. You want this.

He leans forward and shifts his weight to his arm and hand, finally spilling inside of you with a deep moan. Warmth fills every inch of you and you wish that you felt as full in your heart as you do in your cunt but a void remains.

Kenjaku’s other hand slides up your body and wraps around your neck, both of his palms resting on either side of your neck and fingers splaying over your throat. It’s dangerous to let him have this much access to any part of you that he could possibly crush but you do not move, tearfully looking up at him and sniffling. He increases his pressure, not enough to harm you, but enough to make you work hard and you realize how easily he could just…end this.

“Please kill me,” you beg while struggling to breathe, realizing what you’ve done now that the afterglow of orgasm can no longer protect you from the cold hard truth. 

You are a betrayer. You slept with the enemy to sate your own selfish desires and death seems almost too kind to beg for, yet you do.

“Kill me.”

Your face turns in shade and your vision is dotted with darkness, a miserable end to a miserable life you consider, but at least it will be over. The pressure of Kenjaku’s hands around your neck continues to increase until you are certain you are taking your last breath, lungs aching until he abruptly stops. He glances down from where he rests above you, half swollen cock softening and letting his cum leak out around the tip of it that is still inside of you and onto the sheets below. 

“I will not give you the satisfaction of death until you give me the satisfaction of watching you fight for it.” 

Removing his hands from around your throat completely, he glances down at the pressure indentions of his fingers with a smile. Your eyes flutter shut, you’ve passed out from lack of air, and he admires the heap he has left you in, reaching for your robe and wiping the remnants of his release and yours on the corner of it.

Nobody is coming to save you, a secret Kenjaku knows that you are not yet aware of. Satoru Gojo is dead, defeated at the hands of Sukuna. The news broke this morning and he was preparing to come to your room to let you know until this little distraction occurred. He had an inkling you were susceptible to Suguru Geto’s charms even from beyond the grave but he had no idea it would be this easy, your slumped form resting on the futon beside him. He pats your head as one would a treasured dog, long and loving strokes that do not stir you, your bare breasts swaying slightly with every breath you take.

The new world is on the horizon and he may keep you around as a plaything for a little longer than he originally intended.

[adventuringblind]

Unrequited Understanding

Norlestappen x Reader

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: Her father comes back into her life as a replacement race engineer. Now she can't escape him and his voice when she does the one thing she thought he couldn't touch.

Warnings: eating disorder, abuse, past child abuse, sef harm, suicide attempt

Notes: for @ashiekins, I hope you like it! I'M SORRY FOR THE ENDING I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

January

The new year had never felt so sweet. Her victory with Max and Redbull had been a dream. Max taking another championship, had the entire team walking on cloud nine.

She spent new years with her boys. It's tradition at this point to messily kiss all together as the new year comes around.

They'd done so much for her. She's come so far in her journey.

"What are you thinking about, Love?" Neither her nor Lando could sleep. Most nights, they end up talking to get the heavy thoughts to lessen a bit. It's why they get one half of the bed to themselves.

"How nice it feels to know I'm still here and loved." She rests her head on Lando's chest, the steady rythme of his heart lulling her into a restful state.

"Life wouldn't be the same without you." He kisses the top of her head as her mind finally gives into sleep.

February

Her and Max sit together at the large conference table. The factory is preparing for the new season. Energy is running high, and she can feel it crackling in the atmosphere.

Christian talks about how excited he is for the new season. 2023 is going to be theirs to dominate. Adrian has been working tirelessly to give them a title worthy car.

"We have had to make some last-minute changes to the team, unfortunately." Christian makes eye contact with her, and the good feeling she had dissolves. "Your race engineer has fallen terminally ill and is being hospitalized. The good news is we've found a last-minute replacement."

The door opens, and she feels the air leave her lungs. Her body shakes in fear of the man who takes confident strides to his chair.

Christian introduces them, clearly not understanding that they know each other very well. The man is her father, after all.

She has her mother's last name. Intent on separating herself from him entirely. He'd been doing Indie car for years. She never thought he'd make the switch after how they left things.

Max shoots her a concerned look, but she shakes it off. None of the boys had ever seen what her father looks like. They don't know she changed her last name.

She has no intention of ruining a good season because of her petty emotions. So, she says nothing.

March

It's not as bad as she thought it would be. They don't interact much aside from talking about data and while she's in the car.

The underhanded comments make her thoughts reel. The constant questioning of her skill while she's driving makes her think she's crazy. Her father is too good at making it look like a joke. People laugh with him, not understanding he means what he says.

He talks over her, cuts her off, bosses her around like she's still a child. She shrinks in on herself every time he cones around.

Stay silent and listen. That's what got her through her childhood. Just don't make him angry.

He lashes out when he's angry.

Charles is there when a nightmare causes her to be sick. A memory of her childhood that haunts her still.

The Monegasque holds her hair up and rubs her back as she sobs. He makes her a warm drink and holds her, letting her wet tears soak into his shirt.

"Do you want to talk about it, mon chéri?" He whispers gently against her forehead.

She inhales, breath catching in her throat as she does. "My dad, he - well - he used to say I'd never be anything. I sometimes dream about the memory."

"Your father and Jos can fuck off." Charles cups her face with his hands. "You are amazing. Whatever he told you is a lie. You've proven yourself to the world. Your younger self can rest knowing she got you here, that you are safe and loved and enough."

April

It's getting worse by the day. She's not sure where her father got the idea that he could order her around like she's still five and karting. It's getting annoying and ridiculous.

He's taken to snatching any food out of her hand and tossing it away into the nearest bin. What a waste. He could've eaten it himself.

He keeps telling her the car is too heavy. The data doesn't show that, but whatever. Her food being taken from her like when she was young was not how she expected the season to go. She takes to not eating because it's easier than fighting with him.

Her physio keeps asking her about why her weight seems to be plummeting recently. Even trying to get it back on her with altered meal plans. The concerns get brought up later in a meeting with Christian. The severity of her condition being made apparent.

Max watches her sob over a salad. She can tell he wants to push, asked what is causing the relapse. Understand where her head is at.

He hands her a water bottle and waits until she drinks the entire thing. "It's okay to struggle, but please don't shut us out. You don't have to do this alone, alright?"

She doesn't respond, simply collapses into his patient arms.

May

Lando and Charles happened to be passing by at the worst time. The Redbull garage still buzzing with the excitement of Max's podium and her mediocre result compared.

They saw her race engineer laying into her about every mistake. No other staff around to hear the conversation. Her head hung in shame as he pointed out every flaw.

Charles interrupts with such ease. He says her PR officer was looking for her earlier. It gets her to excuse herself from the conversation, leaving the two boys with her engineer.

"Mind your own business next time," scoffs the older man. He leaves the younger two confused.

Charles takes in Lando's mildly anxious body movements. "Something isn't right, Charles. She had that same look from when we were rookies."

Charles hums in agreement. "We'll have to wait for her to come to us for now."

June

The underhanded comments are getting progressively worse. People have started noticing that something is off about her race engineer and his behavior towards her.

Meetings are difficult and the team is walking on eggshells. Max looks ready to explode and has been ripping her father to pieces after every comment. He gets in trouble, so she asks him to stop.

She doesn't mind. Her whole life has been taking this kind of behavior from him. Max knows better than anyone that it's best to respect that kind of ask.

"I'm here if things ever get to a point where you want it to stop. I will always be here for you."

July

Her wight combined with her self-harming habits are making it harder to drive. Somewhere in her head she knows she can't continue like this. The car no longer works with her.

Christian keeps pulling her into his office and asking her about where she's at. Warning her the if she continues down this road, she won't be able to drive. That he'll be forced to find a replacement.

She cries as the boys hold her. She tells them she's not sure if she can do it anymore, that she's not cut out for this sport. They comfort and reassure her that's a lie.

Her thoughts remain stuck on being a burden to them. She gets better just to fall once more into her old habits. They have careers and goals that would be easier to achieve without her around.

Maybe her father is right about her after all.

August

The summer break brings them a much-needed reprieve from the fast-paced world they live in. She gets to spend time away from the incessant voice of the man she hates. Her boys occupying her mind instead.

There is a finality about this that she can't explain. Like things can only get better from here on out. That something in her future is going to bring her the one thing she's looking for.

Swimming in the ocean and eating what they want. They laugh and joke like nothing has changed. It's the first time in months that she feels normal.

This is how things should be. The smile on her face is genuine and the boys can all tell.

September

The cuts line her skin in an unorganized fashion. Angry, red, and bleeding. Her race had been ended early due to a collision. She'd been collateral damage; it wasn't her fault.

The media didn't see it that way. Her father definitely had no mercy when he mercilessly explained how she will never be good enough as a driver.

Hidden away in her drivers' room now, watching the blood pour from her skin. The boys know, they've seen the fresh lines. They are trying to find a way to get her to stop, but these feeling are fighting back harder than ever before. She's not sure how to fight them anymore.

Disappearing seems like the best option. The only way she'll be able to escape the dark thoughts swirling in her head. The one place her father won't be able to touch her anymore will be in her death.

She moans as the blade digs deeper. The ecstasy that accompanies addiction is a feeling she will always crave. Sick satisfaction bubbles in her throat and pour out on her eyes as red stains the floor.

This wasn't her plan, but it's okay. The pain makes all her thoughts go away. Lessens the weight on her chest. Forces her mind to focus on something else.

Everything is spinning and then it goes dark.

Warm hands and comforting words. That's all she's ever wanted.

October

The boys can see how sick she is. Max won't let her be alone in the garage. Not after she almost died.

Her physio is with her when none of the boys are. They keep asking her questions that she won't give answers to.

It's not until an altercation with her father is finally caught. He's condemning her over the radio while she's driving. They'd had an argument earlier about how she should be taking turn three.

The public execution is miserable. Still, she puts her head down and drives.

The second-place trophy has never felt heavier. It drags her arms downwards as she heads to the garage with Max. He doesn't know about what happened yet and she hopes it stays that way. She screams as she puts it away in her room.

She avoids her father as much as possible on the way to the press conference. The glimpse she does get of him leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. Christian looks angry as he presses a finger into her father's chest.

She's zoned out majority of the conference. Until A journalist with a soft voice is asking about her feelings towards her race engineer.

"It's just how things are sometimes. I wasn't listening to instructions, and he was frustrated. It happens." She shrugs it off like this is the most normal everyday occurrence. Which, in her defense, it kind of is.

Every media outlet seems to want to know more about it. Her emotions are struggling to remain contained. the inevitable sobs escape after a particularly worded question about whether his actions could be considered abuse or not.

She breaks, collapsing in the middle of the media pen. Her boys are there blocking the view of the cameras as her body fails to move.

They know now what has been happening. Her secret is out there for everyone to see.

November

Her father is fired from the team with immediate effect. Christian apologizes relentlessly for not knowing and not seeing it sooner.

The media is asked to refrain from asking about the incident and anything regarding her past race engineer. They respect it, probably wanting to avoid another meltdown in the middle of an interview.

Max, Lando and Charles are with her through every step of the way. They encourage her to talk to them and she does. It feels nice not having to hold in her family secrets.

They want to help her, and she wants to be helped.

Her race engineer for the end of the season ends up taking the job for next year. He's kind and keeps his voice calm. Her last few drives amaze everyone.

The top step of the podium has never felt so good. She didn't need to prove herself to anyone, but the confidence it brings her is hard to deny.

Closure feels even better.

December

Her therapist is proud of her for opening up to the boys more. They don't push her to spill everything, but they encourage her when she does.

The end of the year pulls them closer together. After everything that happened, she wasn't sure she was going to see 2024 come around. She's glad she does though.

She fought to the end. She made it to her peace. A place where her father can't touch.

Warm hands and gentle words for all of eternity.

January... Again

Three boys stand in front of a grave. Her favorite flowers in hand. The silence stretches between them. None of them know how to proceed.

The memory of finding her on the floor replays in Max's head. He should've known to find her right after the race. That cold September afternoon in Zandvoort. The day she bled out for one final time.

Charles and Lando assure Max it's not his fault. IT hadn't been her plan. There was no note, not even a warning sign aside from her mental health declining.

Her father, who they now know was the catalyst for her relapse, is in jail. Christian made sure to get him put away so the boys wouldn't have to worry about it.

The other drivers came to the funeral. The journalists respect their wishes not to speak on the matter. They need to heal before they can even think about trying to explain how all three of them had taken time off.

The FIA pushed the races back since Redbull needed to sort things out. The memorial on the track has been visited by everyone on the team.

They tried so hard. They wanted her to stay. They can only hope that she found what she needed in whatever lies beyond this life.

[slyvester101]

After everything that happened with Crunchbite (the bastard) and Junior’s probably horrific and painful birth, I imagine Tucker is more than a little wary about letting strangers near him.

He gets this hollow feeling in his gut when he’s around people he doesn’t know, gets an itch in his skin if he’s touched by someone he doesn’t trust. His throat tightens and his heart squeezes and his hands shake. He’s not able to sleep well around strangers, has to keep his back to the wall or else he’s waking every five minutes to make sure no one’s snuck up behind him.

He spends his whole diplomacy curled up in a ball in the corner of his room with Junior tucked under his chin, keeps his distance from the soldiers stuck on his missions and keeps them away with sharp smiles and horrible flirting that would make anyone cringe away.

At the desert temple, when he’s all alone with nothing but hostiles banging on the door, Tucker laments in how much he misses touch, misses the freedom of being able to hug someone without fear of harm, of being able to know if a touch was friendly or manipulative. He misses Blood Gulch. He misses blue team. He misses his son.

Even after Sidewinder, Tucker still isn’t in the clear, isn’t allowed some respite with his team because the latest member is yet another Freelancer who was chasing to kill them not even less than twenty-four hours ago.

His skin is buzzing the whole time they’re being shown around their new base by Caboose, his heart not settling despite the action being long over, his brain screams as someone grabs his shoulder. He screams out loud too, it seems, because the hand is pulling back quickly and a soft apologetic voice is echoing through his head.

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t fucking touch me, asshole.” Tucker all but hissed before he stormed away, unwilling to let this new prick see the way his hands shake and the way his face has gone pale.

He hates it. He hates it. He hates how he can’t even stand close to the fucker without feeling ill, can’t help but track his every movement and every word for some kind of malice or cruel intent.

He finds none.

He’s kind to Caboose, politely nodding along to whatever he rants about and keeping him out of trouble with much kinder words that Church was probably physically incapable of speaking. He’s kind to Tucker even though he’s been nothing but a paranoid asshole the whole time they’ve been at Valhalla, never taking offense to the distance Tucker puts between them and respecting whatever lines Tucker draws.

It takes a long time for him to feel comfortable enough to let Washington touch him, not quite as long to start giving him shit like he would’ve with Church. Slowly and cautiously, they fall into a groove that’s uniquely theirs and Tucker feels like he can finally breathe in his own goddamn house.

His trust in Wash is cemented when Carolina comes into the picture and constantly steps in as a barrier between the two, Washington knowing that Carolina would try to scruff or yank Tucker around for his big mouth and that Tucker would probably rip her hand off if she tried. He’s the only reason the two aqua soldiers don’t kill each other. That fact becomes undoubtedly true when Wash choses Tucker over Carolina, pointing his gun at her as she threatens Tucker.

Caboose was always a steady presence to the chaos in his head, the gentle giant sometimes being the only reason Tucker didn’t fall apart at the seams while he cried his fears into his chest, but Wash is a different kind of support that Tucker didn’t know he needed, one he doesn’t think he’s ever had.

It doesn’t stop him from getting that itch in his skin when he’s surrounded by strangers, it doesn’t stop the sick feeling he gets when he wakes up from a nightmare, it doesn’t make everything better.

But Tucker thinks, kind of incredulously, that maybe he can finally be safe with these two by his side. Maybe, just maybe, he can really let his guard down and have someone else watch his back.

Maybe he can finally let someone in.

[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way: Chapter 3

Joel Miller X fem!Reader

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, an both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, rape (not Joel), somno, graphic depictions of violence, being turned on by violence, pregnancy, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot)but fair warning, major age gap

This is a reader fic, reader is early 20's, Joel is 40's at this point, reader is small enough that the men can lift her, but these are strong men. Reader is also referred to as little one, little girl ETC, but that's more in reference to her age/innocence than physical size.

Please reread warnings, as they have been updated.

Chapter Summary: Joel softens, just a bit.

Pretty fucking proud of this chapter. Might be some of my best work yet.

This chapter is detacated to my friend @maura-honey i fucking love yoooouuuuuuuuuu she made a tumblr just to read my shit <3

******************

When you woke up that moring, Joels fingers were inside, lips on your neck… kissing…  something he’d never done with you before. He’d also never fingered you this much, he might give a few pumps at most to ease you in, but in generally Joel had no regard for your comfort when he was feral with you. You could hear how wet you were, none of the fear you usually had during sex holding you back because you were fast asleep. Hell, you could fucking smell how wet you were, Joel must’ve been fingering you for a while, because you knew you were about to cum. 

You couldn’t open your eyes, too tired, too sleepy, too exhausted. Memories of last night flooded in as you grew closer, you bodies pain bringing back specific memories. As you lay on your back, you start to remember, every prick of pain cueing a new memory as your exhausted body gave into Joel. Your burning scalp; he dragged you from the barn to the house, Tommy yelling at Joel to knock it off, holding you up. The rug burn on your neck that Joel didn’t seem to notice as he kissed and sucked hickies into it; Joel ripped your shirt open with one hand, your skin taking the bunt of the pain where his calloused hands clearly did not, exposing you to all the men watching hungrily. Your hips ached; you were bent over the table pounded into the edges. Your wrists; the handcuffs that dug into your skin. Your cunt, currently being abused again by Joel’s thick fingers, inside you, only saved from the brutal pain of a gang rape by Tommy’s mercy. And finally, your hip; Joel’s pelvis bucked as he gave you his own sick version of pleasure, but since you were on your back, his pants rubbed against the fresh wound where he branded his initials into your skin. 

“AH!” You shout, fully awake now at the searing pain in your side.

“Good morning, sunshine” Joel mutters softly into your neck. He was oddly tender today, was he trying to make you cum on his fingers? You didn’t have time to think much, it became clear he was still wearing jeans, and you butt naked from last night, Tommy’s clothes he left untouched on the floor that you were now wishing were on you as the rough material on him dug into you.

“Joel- no, Joel-ah! stop-” You tried to protest, brain still foggy, trying to move away, but he continued to grind into you, large body pinning you down. 

“You always say that, but you’re so fucking wet, little one” He pulled you closer, the seems of his crotch tearing open the damaged skin.

Joel thought this was your usual pleas, you began crying from the sting and burn on your hip as he stimulated himself on you. “No, not Joel it hurts, please” you sob, unable to speak clearly “Joel the- the burn- ugh!” You didn’t have it in your from stopping the sounds you made, the ones you usually stifled to all hell because god, Joel was beginning to feel good, and you hated yourself for it.

“There we go, knew you wanted it, always putting up a fight…” Joel went for your lips, but you whipped your head away, sobbing from the pain that was so bad you didn’t care what Joel thought of you rejecting this newfound, strange affection that you didn’t know what to make of. “C’mon now, baby girl” Joel’s tone was stern, but not the anger you expected. Usually, after he fucked you, he seemed to feel bad, providing you with some semblance of care afterwards… maybe last night was clearly crossing such a line that he still felt bad… so why did he have so little regard for the pain you were clearly in? You continue sobbing and when you look at Joel, rubbing your eyes, you see him look almost… confused? You didn’t cry like this infront of him… you cried, but it was softer… 

The next words you did not expect. “Don’t I make you feel good?”

You couldn’t contain your anger. “You hurt me!”

“Oh come on.” He says almost condescendingly. “My fingers are nothing compared to my dick.” But he still looked… confused? Concerned that you wouldn’t stop sobbing and shaking. He thought it was the fingers that were the problem? He moved towards you and you wince, only to find that he was wrapping the blanket around you and picking you up. He carried you like a toddler, carrying you under your ass and thighs, your face looking over his shoulder and you couldn’t help the instinct to wrap your arms around him as he walked toward your door.

“No, no I don’t want to go out there” Panic rose up inside you, fearful your yelling was going to get you a treatment like last night all over again, or leave you for Nick and the others, and would Tommy be able to save you? How many times could Tommy step in without losing his head… You didn’t want Tommy to get hurt, not for you… You try to tell him you’re sorry, that you’ll stop, but between the desperate words and choked sobs, you weren’t making much sense, and you got the feeling he wasn’t listening anyway.

When you were taken to the living room, the men immediately perked up, no doubt hoping they’d get their chance with you, but Joel kept walking towards the door. Was he done with you? Was he taking you outback to kill you, maybe have a round or two with your dead body that wouldn’t put up a fight like you do, then leave your naked body to decompose? The panic had set it, and the crying became shouting.

“Joel! Please! Don’t, please-T- Tom- TOMMY! TOMMYYY!!!” You scream for the only person you could trust, scrambling helplessly to get out of his his grasp but it was useless, you kick and fight and scream for his brother.

“Why the fuck are you cry’n to him for?” Joel muttered more to himself than anything, and you want to shut yourself up lest Joel suspect what happened, but you can’t think clearly, scrambling to get out of his grasp, wishing to god your brother was still alive or that Tommy would come save you. You’d be good, you’d stop acting up, you’d stop doing things that put Tommy and yourself at risk if please, please he’d come fix it just one more time…

You were outside, the sun was rising, the air was crisp but not bitter, and you were in shock… you hadn’t seen anything of sunlight other than your pathetic window since before Joel had taken you… you realized you stopped crying, Joel’s large hard rubbing your back as he calmly sh’d you as you shook in his arms. Joel sat down on the steps of the porch, cradling you in his arms like a baby. 

“Let’s enjoy the view”

Now, what exactly did Joel think was happening here? Who were you to him? Because he was cruel and violent, but then came tenderness… the way he talked yesterday, the way he seemed so betrayed, so convinced that he was good to you, that you deserted him… did he care about you? You did as he said, watching the sunshine and listening to the birds tweet…

“You’re bleeding” You look at Joel and he’s frowning, peeling off the blanket and exposing your nakedness to the outside. Your hip had bleed through the thin blanket enough, and Joel’s fingers touched around the open wound, deep concern in his eyes. “What happened?”

You were flabbergasted. Did he not remember?

“You… you branded me…” 

Joel shook his head. “No, no I mean why’s it bleed’n?” He looked to you. “Were you picking at it?”

You couldn’t help but blink, dumbfounded as it seemed he genuinely did not know how he tortured you. “You hurt me, Joel. This morning… Your jeans…”

Joel looked down at his jeans and saw the blood from when he rubbed on the raw and open skin. “I did that?”

“Yeah”

“That’s why you were cry’n?”

“Yeah. It really hurts.”

“It looks like it does…” Joel looked back at you. “Did anyone touch you last night?” 

You shake your head. “Tommy unlocked me.”

“Tommy touch you last night?”

Again, you shake your head. “Just to put the ointment on my thigh, I swear”

“You’d tell me if anyone touched you, right? Including Tommy?”

You freeze… What did he know? Did Tommy already tell him? Was Joel testing you? Would it be better to be honest… no, Tommy wouldn’t tell Joel, he wouldn’t do that to you. “Yeah, I’d tell you.”

Joel nodded, seeming to believe you… Then, he called inside. “Nick!” 

You startle at his shout, and even more so when Joel sits you on the porch, careful to keep you covered. “Watch her” Joel says to the redheaded man. “I gotta get some shit, and don’t-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, don’t fucking touch her I heard the spiel last time, Miller.”

Joel glared at him, but left you outside with Nick, where there was silence for a moment as you watched him nervously. Nick’s eyes had been intent on you every time Tommy or Joel took you to the bathroom, or if he was walking by the door when they opened it, and he had been very eager to get a piece of you when Joel temporarily lifted the ban. You startled when he spoke.

“You just think you’re hot shit, don’t you?”

You didn’t know what to make of that. You felt the complete opposite of hot shit, you felt pathetic and used and in pain…

He kept talking. “You got both fucking Millers wrapped around you’re god damn finger, just have to sit in that room and get fucked, huh?”

You look up at him, unmoving.

“He’ll kill you, eventually, you know. Or he’ll get board of you, throw you to the rest of us and we’ll rape you until you’re dead, and Tommy won’t be able to stop it. He can’t always be there to protect you.”

Joel opened the door and Nick acted innocent, heading back inside without a word.

“He say anything to you?” Joel asked, sitting down with you.

You knew it was best to keep your mouth shut, not cause problems. “No”

“Good. Don’t like ‘em look’n at you. Barely tolerating Tommy but…” Joel opens up the first aid box and gets working, cleaning the wound.

You whimper, but try to keep it together. “But what?”

“I ain’t around much and… well I’m not exactly good at talk’n. Tommy’s better at that, better company.”

You had wondered if Joel knew about Tommy playing cards and talking with you. It seems he did, and he allowed it… because he knew you’d be bored? With Joel newfound softness and obvious guilt, you decided to test something.

“Could… could I maybe…”

“I ain’t letting you go, little girl. You’re mine.”

“No, no I know” You quickly assured. “Maybe next time you’re out, if you found something maybe…”

Joel softened his tone. “What is it, sweetness?”

You take a deep breath. “Maybe a book?” Joel turned to you. “Or just something to do, Tommy gave me playing cards but I can only do so much… ”

“You can read?” 

Fair question, “My mom taught me.”

Joel seemed to consider this… “I’ll see what we find today.”

You nod vigorously, gasping again as he applied triple antibiotic cream to the stinging wound. “Thank you, Joel, I know I don’t deserve-”

“Hush” He stops you. “You ain’t been good but I shouldn’t have done that to you.” He was apologizing for the burn? “You’re mine, and they don't get to touch you, or even look at you like that” Oh, it was about rapeing you in public. “And I know… I know ‘m not very careful, I don’t mean to hurt you…” Well, that wasn’t exactly true, the branding was intentional, the hard slap that first day was intentional… but you knew he meant when he gets carried away and the hair that gets pulled out and the bruises that form and the open fucking wound on you are just collateral. “I’m gonna try and be more careful, okay? But you gotta behave.”

For some unknown reason, you rest your head on his chest as he wraps your thigh in gauze. “I will, I swear. I wanna be good now.” If you got this side of Joel when you were quiet and behave… this would be much easier on you. You’d have him and Tommy’s protection, none of the men in their or anywhere else would fuck with you, and if Joel was bringing you books and didn’t hurt you… this could be better than what was being done to you at your dads house. Joel could be soft, Joel could be tender.. Yeah, this could be good…

You stayed there in Joel’s arms for a while until he brought you inside so he could take care of business. 

While he was gone, you took a nap and were woken up by the sound of the door flying open, and for a moment you fear Joel was back to his old self but you turn and see Tommy, running over the the mattress and dropping down beside you, seeing you in his clothes again and scrambling to touch you, checking you over, eyes frantic.

“Jesus honey, are you okay?” He grabbed your shoulders as he looked you over.

“Tommy” You grab his arms, sturdying you. Tommy was your anchor here, and you’d cling to him whenever you could. 

“Jack said he heard you screaming this morning in the room? Said he was pulling you out of the room and you were calling for me? I’m so sorry honey, I was out working, I’m so fucking sorry I shouldn’t have left, not after last night-” 

You interrupt him with a hand on his face, feeling his cheek, you’re thumb on his mustache. “Tommy, Tommy I’m okay…”

“What did he do to you?” Tommy asked with worry.

“He didn’t mean-”

Tommy spoke your name softly. “It’s okay, just tell me”

You blush, knowing this would bring up sex, which was a closed subject with Tommy, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know what Joel was doing to you. “He was… um… his jean… were rubbing against the burn when he… he um…”

Tommy’s face softened. “When he what?”

You turned away. “When he was fingering me…”

Tommy’s face furrowed in confusion. “Does he do that a lot?” His face was tinged with something else… jealousy?

You shake your head. “Today was weird.”

You explain what happened today while Tommy redressed your wound. You had no idea why you trusted him, but for some reason, you are beginning to trust Joel too. 

When Joel walked in on you and Tommy playing cards, he was carrying a bag. 

Tommy stood up quickly. “How’d it go today?”

“Good” He answered gruffly. “I got it here, Tommy” Despite Tommy looking guilty, Joel patted him on the back, turning Tommy to him. You assume Joel thought you couldn’t hear him, but Joel thanked Tommy for taking care of you. Tommy left without another word or a look at you.

Joel turned to you. “I got you some things, you can look through them later”

You give him a little smile, and it’s not all fake. You scoot onto the bed and take off your shorts; you want to show him you can be good, you can be good for him, if he’s good to you…

Joel returned the smile, however small it was. “Good girl”

You couldn’t help but smile a little bit more at his praise. You nod to the freshly cleaned wound on your leg, bandaged for protection. “Could you…”

With surprising gentleness, he adjusted you as he knelt, bending your knees, massaging your legs. “Don’t worry, little one, I’ll take it easy on you this time, consider this an apology.”

You put your hands on his thighs. “Thank you, sir”

Joel bent over, kissing your neck and palming your breasts still in his brother's shirt. “‘M gonna make this good for you, sweetheart, and you’re gonna come and stop fighting those pretty sounds you make, okay? That’s how you’re gonna thank me.”

You nod. “Okay”

Joel kissed and sucked where you were certain there were already dark marks, grinding his naked cock into your center. You did as promised, letting go for him, moaning as he worked you up for the first time, the first time he didn’t just ram into you and it felt good.

“Joel” You moan out gripping his shoulders; you wanted to see him. “Shirt off?”

You swore you could hear him chuckle. “Mine or yours”

“Both?”

“Good girl.” Joel sat up, taking off his shirt and fuck he looked good. He was strong, insanely broad, large muscles in his arms that you were already aware of that stretched in his sleeves. His chest showed obvious strength, and his stomach was soft, comforting… Joel pulled you up, taking off your shirt. “Fucking perfect.”

His mouth went to your breast as he lined up at your entrance, pushing in as quick and harsh as he always did, but this time you were working up enough and it hardly hurt, just a comfortable stretch.

Joel went for your lips, but you dodged him, and Joel paused to look at your with a cocked eyebrow.

You look at him, wide-eyed and nervous, would he punish you? He never kissed you, neither had Tommy, neither had any of the men your dad had sold your mouth too… that was yours, so far.

“I’m gonna give you time on that one, little one.” Joel began thrusting, his pace fast but not harsh. His hand was under your injured hip, your leg bent, propping it up just enough so that the brand didn’t rub against the bed as he fucked you.

“Thank you sir” You whine, relaxing into him, loving this side of things… Joel thrusting into you, fucking you full and actually paying attention to your body, your wants and needs…

“You gonna cum? I’m right behind you, been wait’n all day to be inside your perfect little pussy”

You were, that warmth in your stomach becoming a sure-fire thing. Joel slowly conditioning you to associate him with pleasure, the assault on your body, the violence that came with him, all with your orgasm, one of the few good things you had… “Yes, please make me cum”

His hand moved your throat, not the bruising grip you were used to, but a light, dizzying squeeze. “You gonna stop fighting me?”

“Yes, I swear, Joel, I’ll be good”

He sped up, igniting more inside you, the room swirling with the sounds of sex, the smell of Joel after a long day of work and you preen for him because you knew, you knew you could cum, and then for a few short minutes at least, Joel would care for you and you could feel a soft touch for fucking once… Tommy was so fucking scared of getting you killed, of abusing you the way Joel did he would barely touch you, you couldn’t get anything like this from him, although you were beginning to suspect he wanted too…

Joel grunted in your ear and you knew he was close too. “I know you will, sweet thing. Because you’re mine, your body is mine, your orgasms are mine, and this?“ Joel slapped your pussy before rubbing the clit as he growled, louder than before. “This is fucking mine, now cum!”

How much could the men outside hear? How much could Tommy hear? You couldn’t be bothered to think more, because you were his good girl now and you did as you were told, coming on his cock as your hands gripped his sweaty back, clinging him to you, your obedience a plea, ‘please, please take care of me, don’t let them hurt me, don’t hurt me anymore, and I’ll give everything to you Joel, I am yours as long as I am safe.’ You moaned as promised, load and with every ounce of feeling you had, letting everyone in the damn house, including fucking Nick, that you were Joels and yes, you had him wrapped around your finger.

When he pulled back, your stomach was painted in white as you panted breathless on the mattress. Joel collapsed on you, his heavyweight a comfort, and he even shifted his weight away from your hurt side. Kissing up your neck, to your cheek, he almost kissed your mouth, and god, you would have let him, but Joel hesitated before kissing away. That was one promise he’d keep.

When Joe came back to carry you to the bathroom where he had boiled water for a hot bath, you willingly wrapped your arms around him, kissing his neck. When you are carried past the kitchen, you see Nick watching you, eyes intent while Joel has his ever protective grasp. Just to make a point, you lock eyes with the man and lick a long stripe up Joel’s neck. The message was clear.

‘I belong to Joel Miller. Don’t fucking touch me.’ ********************

I hope you guys liked it!!!! Remember, likes and reblogs are the way to keep an author motivated to write more!

That being said, this is the last chapter out until probs after finals, so please dont ask when the next chapter is cuz i don't know ;-;

In the meantime, check out my masterlsit on my main @romanarose I have a few Joel fics, but my triple frontier fics are some of my best. consider reading Leather and Lace for Santi, or if you like moon knight, check out sunshine starlight sweetheart brightside! both deal with rape recovery, but head the warnings! espcially sunshine, its heavy

If you have an AO3 I would love if you check out this story over there and left a kudos, and maybe checked out some of my other work!

if you didn't catch it, theres a bonus chapter with tommy out!

LOVE YOU ALL!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @tidlewav3 @bunnnyy-dummy @slutfortimotheechalamet @foggymoonbanana @dinsbaby @miraclesabound @jenna-ortega @primosworld @marclovers @threeheadedlamb @secretwriterpp @the-fox-den

@bitchyglitterfox @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters

[emilyssky]

Chapter 7: In For It

PAIRING: Lee Know! X fem!reader

GENRE(S): college au, smut, angst

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence and abuse, depression, self harm, eating disorders etc.. mentions of blood, swearing, smoking, smut [ dirty talk, oral; giving and receiving, choking, spanking, praising, degradation, pet names, sometimes Minho is a dick :)

SUMMARY: "Do you remember what you told me the first time we met?"  

"What?"

"You said; Always leave people a little better than you found them" he looked at the floor with a small smile for a few seconds and then his eyes found mine. "You really annoyed me when we first met. I envied your optimism and excitement for life. But each time I saw you, I felt a certain thrill. You made me angry, you made me laugh., you made me feel everything. Something about you made me feel a little more alive each time. I know I fucked up and I know I'm an asshole but I'm also brutally in love with you."    

Things are starting to get out of control and the game has turned into something completely different. Changbin was gone by the time I came back from the bathroom cause apparently Lia was not feeling well, so he drove her home. Emma and Seungmin have given up on the game and are making out on the couch, completely ignoring us and the rest of us are utterly drunk at this point.  We continue to play nevertheless but the rules are probably none existent right now. Questions and dares are being asked around and everything is starting to become messy.

"Okay, no. That's not happening." Chan answers before I have the chance to.

"Chan-"

"Nope. You're drunk and you're not taking your shirt off." He throws Jisung a dirty look, who simply lifts his shoulders in defense.

"She dared me to go to the balcony and twerk for a whole minute in my underwear. It's only fair." Jeongin pouts.

I giggle at his expression. "I don't mind." I reach for the ends of my shirt, about to peel it off my body. Chris instantly moves to stop my hands but it's the low growl of my name from his lips that made me stop.

"You're not wearing a bra stupid," Chan whispers annoyed.

I slap my hand over my mouth. "Oops."

Jisung laughs, shaking his head. "I think it's time to call it a night."

I look around; Felix is sleeping beside him, well passed out probably, Emma and Seungmin are basically fucking in front of us, and Hyunjin-

"I think Hyunjin's going to be-" I didn't even finish my sentence before Hyunjin vomited all over the floor in front of him. "...sick"

"Fuck." Chris sighs, already on his feet.

Jisung gets up, not looking Hyunjin's way twice. "I'll bring the mop."

Chan pulls Hyunjin's head back, laying him down on his side. "Okay buddy, hold on."

"Great once again, we have no way to get home."  I groan.

Seungmin lifts himself off of the couch with Emma wrapped around his waist. They make their way up the stairs without breaking the kiss for a split second or even sparing a glance at us.

"Excellent." I groan again.

"You can stay here." Jeongin offers casually. "We have space."

"We don't," Minho says, his tone cold and sharp.

"Yeah, we do," Jeongin continues nevertheless, his gaze avoiding his friend, looking around almost nervously. "We all have double beds."

Minho's eyes stay fixated on him, narrowing slightly until he turns to Chan, who's trying to wake up Hyunjin with no luck. "Do you need help taking them home?"

Chan rubs his hands over his face, thinking. "I'll have to take Felix and Hyunjin back to the frat and then Y/n back to her place since I'll be staying here tonight."

"That's basically back and forth. Just take them back to the frat and I'll take the girls." He offers, with his face, expressionless.

Chan looks between me and Minho, and I can almost see all his thoughts clouding his head. "She's drunk, I don't feel okay about leaving her alone."

"I'm completely fine, thank you very much."I try to stand up, but I stumble over my own two feet. His arms come up around me for support as I reach him, but he doesn't even glance down at me, his eyes are on Minho.

"You don't have to worry. Plus you've been drinking as well." He points out with a natural face, unbothered by the way Chan's looking at him. "I've only had like 2 shots."

It takes him a few seconds but to my surprise he sighs, "Fine."

"But I don't wanna go yet," I quickly whine.

"Is Emma gonna stay here?" He asks Chan, both of them ignoring me.

"It looks like it."

"Come on." Minho's hand comes around my arm, pulling me away from Chan's comfort. His rough grip makes me stumble, losing my balance due to the dizziness of my mind and the numbness of my limbs, but I feel his palm on my back and my eyes shoot up to his, I sober up immediately.  

"Do you need any help?" Jeongin gets up from the couch.

Minho steels. "No, it's fine I got it."

"You sure?" He presses, taking a step towards us.

I feel his grip tightening on my arm, his sharp breath hitting the side of my head.

I clear my throat, noticing the sudden tension, and move away from his grip before he says anything back. "I'll be fine." I pull Jeongin into a quick hug. "I'll see you."

I grab my purse and jacket from the back of the couch, just when Jisung appears with a mop and a bucket in his hands.

"Are you leaving?" His face falls a bit.

"I don't want to." I pout back. "They're kicking me out."

"Let's go." Minho appears behind me, pushing me forward lightly and I send him a glare. "I don't have all night."

"Where are you going?" Jisung asks him.

He answers without looking at him, "I have to take her home."

"You don't 'have to' do anything, you offered actually. I can gladly call a cab." I turn around, not realizing just how close behind me he was.

"You're a child." He says with no emotion on his face.

"And you're an asshole." I fire back, getting annoyed. I never asked him to take me home. "I think I rather someone else take me!" I move past him, try to actually but his fingers wrap around my arm, sharply pulling me back.

"I said I'm taking you home. Now, get your ass out the door." He says, keeping his tone low.

"You don't tell me what I can and can't do." I take a few steps forward, tilting my head upwards to look at him. I take a look over his shoulder, noticing Jisung helping Chan with Hyunjin and Jeongin being nowhere to be found. "But I don't wanna cause yet another scene because of you and I'm tired. " I look back at him. "That's the only reason I'm walking out the door."

A smirk creeps into his lips. "Sure."

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His car is a black Jeep and it's surprisingly clean. No condoms or bags from fast food places are thrown on the ground.

"Seatbelt." His raspy voice echoes through the small space. I feel chills running down my arms partly from the cold yet I do as he says, and put my seatbelt on. It's hard not to let my eyes linger on his side profile as he starts the car and drives out of his parking spot, silently admiring how perfectly calm all of his features are yet how strong and sharp. It's rare to see any intense emotion painting his face, the only source that proves he is not a robot, is his eyes. The corners of his mouth lift slightly, letting me now that I've been caught. Fuck, I'm too drunk for this, and the more I stare at him the harder the realization that he's undeniably handsome hits me, so I focus my eyes on the road, instead.

"Just so you know I tend to talk a lot when I drink," I speak up, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Oh, I know." A small smirk appears.

Heat rises to my cheeks as the memories of the first time we met come to my mind. I wonder how he remembers me? I wonder if he thought about that night just as much as I've thought about it. I shake my head and force the questions down my throat. He obviously doesn't care, but still for some reason my nerves grow just like the silence between us, and my leg starts to bounce up and down.

"Stop."

I turn to him confused but he keeps his eyes on the road. His right hand move from the wheel to my knee, forcing it to a stop and the action is so fast and smooth that makes me suck a breath. His hand doesn't move, it lingers over the top of my knee for a few more seconds until it starts sliding slowly down my thigh. I don't breath, I don't dare to, not until his fingers finish brushing their way to the top off my thigh like a feather, only a few inches away from where I'm now suddently craving them to be.

"Why are you nervous?" His smirk grows, probably sensing who tense I am.

'I'm not ' is what I should answer but my mind is a blurry mess, a shit tone of questions are about to slip out of my mouth before I can stop them and the confidence that the alcohol in my system offers me doesn't help.

"Cause there's so much I wanna say but I know I shouldn't." I say instead.

His features still for a split second and his eyes turn to me. It looks like he thinks about his answer as well but after a few seconds, he says. " Why shouldn't you?"

I chuckle. "Cause it's a waste of time."

His eyebrows come together. "Why?"

"Cause you don't wanna talk to me. For some reason, you decided to not like me." I say before I can't stop myself. "And normally I wouldn't care, but I have been nothing but nice to you. A lot of times I come off as rude or cold, cause I'm just a bit closed off, I guess you can say." I turn to him. "But I have been so nice to you," I say again, raising my tone but smiling a bit. I don't know why, but I'm smiling.

He stops at a red light and turns to face me, resting his head back on the seat. His eyes are glistening under the dim light of the headlights.

I tilt my head, almost hypnotized. "Do you know that your eyes sparkle?"

His face twitches with interest. A rare sight. "What?"

I giggle bringing my knee up and resting my head on it, my eyes not leaving his. He tilts his head as well, looking at me like his searching for something and I'm waiting for him to talk. He lets out a sigh and bites his lip, his eyes studying my face. I wanna save this moment in my memories exactly how it is but I'm afraid that my drunken mind won't remember it clearly. I like that he's looking at me. And I like that we're not talking. I feel comfortable and peaceful. I could stay like this for hours. My mind blurry, unable to think or worry about anything. No anxiety, no emotions making me physically sick, just silence. My body relaxed, not pressured to dance a certain way or look a certain way. My mouth close, not trying to keep up with conversations or entertain anyone. Simply staying still and being looked at by him without saying a single word.

"I like this moment," I whisper, my thoughts out loud. The light has turned green but he doesn't seem to care, we're alone on the road anyway.

He hesitantly raises his hand, the action so familiar in the most intense and unsettling way that  I close my eyes, mechanically.

"Open your eyes." He demands gently.

My eyes open, to meet his again but now with a different kind of light in them. Hard but soft, full of suppressed emotion. He brings his hand to the side of my head, tugging my hair behind my ear.

"You never have to close your eyes around me." He rubs his thumb over my cheek, my skin tingling underneath it. "I don't ever wanna see you flinch or cover your face when you're with me 'cause every time you do you push me closer to pulling up to that motherfucker's house and making sure he won't have fingers to lay on another female ever again." He says, his eyes darkening with each word and I can feel my heart warm. Warm by his words, warm by the way he's looking at me and touching me.

I nibble at my bottom lip, trying to cover up my smile unsuccessfully.  "Are you bipolar?"  At that, his face breaks into a smile, his perfect teeth on display.  "No really, I'm curious, 'cause man you're confusing me."

He shakes his head, his bright smile slowly fading until it turns into a sad one. "What am I gonna do with you?" He whispers and I feel like he's talking more to himself rather than me.

"You're gonna drive me home, " I answer either way. "And we're gonna forget that this happened. You're gonna go back to you either being a dick to me just to get my attention or ignoring my whole existence until we get drunk and can be real with each other again." I say, trying to keep my eyes from closing.

The wave of comfort that suddenly came with the softness of his words and overall presence hits me hard. I feel his tender touch slide from the side of my face and I swear he said something but my brain had shut off and sleep took over me before I had the chance to hear what.

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Tomorrow is the first official day of our winter break and normally, since it's Sunday night we would celebrate all together but somehow it's 9 p.m and I'm alone in my apartment, getting ready to binge-watch the Harry Potter movies for the 100th time. Hyunjin has made plans with Jisoo, Felix is hanging out with Changbin at the frat, probably watching some stupid basketball game and Emma has a date with Seungmin. And when I say date, I mean a fancy-ass dinner date, that I hope will make their relationship official. Chan's with Jisung at the studio but I'm not really in the mood to join them, so I decided to stay inside, which I've been craving actually. It's been a while since I've had a night to myself but 2 hours in and I've already regretted it. Being alone comes with having none but your own thoughts to keep you company and that is one thing I desperately wanna avoid. The thoughts about me, the thoughts about him. Thinking in general. Ever since we started hanging out with Chan's friends I've been constantly stepping out of my comfort zone. I went from staying inside every single day to going out every single weekend. I don't regret it though, I'm grateful for meeting them. I've really grown to like hanging out with them and I can see that Hyunjin, Emma, and Felix feel the same way, it's just that everything has been happening so fast, that I need to take a step back and collect myself a bit. I feel my head being all over the place, especially with everything that's happening with Minho. It's been definitely a while since I gave any man a single time of my day, let alone allow him to conquer my every thought the way that he does. I've been forcing myself not to think that much into anything about him but each time he will do something or say something that will just completely throw away all my logical thoughts and self-control. I have no idea how he sees me or what are his thoughts about us; if there's even an 'us' to begin with. I try to push the thoughts about him to the back of my head as I wrap my arms around my body tighter. I push the door of the convenience store, hearing the 'ring' sound echo throughout the store.

"Hey, Y/n." Nick greets me with a smile for his position behind the counter.

"Hi." I return the smile and walk further into the store, finding my way down the all-too-familiar hallway. I stand in front of the limited wine collection, searching for my favorite bottle of red wine but instead, I throw my head back and a small groan escapes me as I realize they're out.

"Great..." I mumble to myself.

"Y/n?"

My head snaps to the left, seeing Jeongin standing towards the end of the hall. A few beers, a bag of chips, and my favorite bottle of wine in his hands. With his face half-hidden inside his hood, he walks towards me.

I narrow my eyes a bit, focusing on the bottle in his hands. "You stole my favorite wine."

My words make him pause slightly and he looks down at his hands and then at the shelf.

"Sorry, but it's my favorite too." He half-smiles.

I take a deep breath. "Look it's been a long day and I really need to chill, watch a movie, and drink my comfort wine." My incredibly horrible mood begins to make an appearance, yet his smile doesn't falter.

"Well, someone's grumpy." He jokes.

"Yes, someone is."

"Well, it's been a long day for me as well. " He walks towards me. " And I wanna drink my wine and watch the game."

I groan in his face and he lets out a laugh. "Come on, Jeongin please."

My eyes must have really looked desperate cause his smile grew a little in the few minutes of silence.  "Fine let's make a deal then." He offers.

I cross my hands. "I'm listening."

"We'll share." He smirks.

"I'm not watching basketball." I shake my head.

He rolls his eyes, taking a few seconds to think. "You like movies?"

On any other occasion, I would completely avoid any offer by a guy to watch movies and drink in my apartment but tonight I don't let myself think too much. The truth is that I need company to distract me from my thoughts that are eating me alive and also a few glasses of my favorite wine. If these two options come in a package deal with Jeongin, then so be it.

I let my lips form a smile. "Obviously. "

"Your place or mine?" He smiles back.

There's no way I'm going over to that house, with all the guys there. It's not gonna end well and I really need to relax tonight. I don't want the tension that comes with seeing Minho right now.

"Mine."

"Cool." He walks past me.

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"It's not fair, I should have paid half," I whine for probably the 10th time, taking a seat next to him on the couch. It does feel a little bit weird to have a guy, besides my Hyunjin, Felix, and Chan, sitting comfortably in my living room, but nothing about Jeongin is or feels uncomfortable. In fact, our whole way back from the store was filled with easy-flowing conversation and the second he entered my apartment he acted as if he's been here many times before.

"It's whatever. " He brushes me off. "Just buy me coffee next time and we're even." He makes himself comfortable on my couch, spreading his arm at the back and letting his tall body lean backwards, fully relaxed.

I set the bowl of popcorn and the bottle of wine along with two glasses on the coffee table in front of us before taking a seat next to him. I keep a little amount of space between our bodies, my small couch not really helping, and grab a blanket, throwing it over my bottom half, trying to get comfortable as well.

"So what are we watching?" He pulls the blanket over to cover his legs as well. I can't help but giggle at how he tries to fit his tall body under the blanket, pulling it all to his side, leaving me completely bare.

"This is not gonna work." I shake my head.

His lips are in a loose smile, his eyes big, almost puppy-like looking back at me. He opens the side of the blanket, a silent offer for me to scoop a bit closer to him.

And so I do, without much thought. "You like Harry Potter?"

"Who doesn't?" He mumbles with his mouth already filled with popcorn.

I press play and grab my glass of wine.

. . . .

It was unexcepted honestly, how addictive his company was becoming each minute passing, or how fun. Even though I've never hung out with Jeongin one on one, it surprised me how comfortable and at ease I felt. His whole presence was like a light breeze, so easy going and smooth. Throughout the movie, he made jokes or comments, opening conversations effortlessly about the scenes or the movie in general, and the conversation continued to flow even after the movie ended. It felt easy getting to know him, from his upbringing to his first year of college, he talked to me like an open book. His dreams of becoming a singer and his passion for any form of art were no surprise to me but I didn't expect just how driven he is by his love for music. He talked about the rest of the guys and everything they're currently working on with stars in his eyes. I was a bit hesitant to offer him the same honesty he did to me but the hesitation didn't last very long and I found myself talking more than I've had in a long, long time. I purposely avoided sensitive topics and focused on my own journey with dance, what I really wanna do,my hopes and dreams along with a few small details about myself that I never really thought anyone would like to listen about yet he kept his eyes on me the whole time, listening patiently.

"Was it painful?"

He shakes his head with a small, sad smile. "Awfully painful, but worth it. She was my first love."

"My first love," I start already feeling heavy but the mention of him. "was awfully painful as well, but if I could go back, I would tell myself to run as far away from him as possible."

"Cheated?" He tries to guess.

"The cheating was the least painful part." The truth behind my words, so loud, that it made my chest tighten.

He nods lightly, his eyes moving all over my face, noticing the sudden sadness. "Love can be painful, but partly that's the beauty of it."

I look at him, my head tilting, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

"What's the point to be loved if not getting hurt as well?" He continues, with the same softness in his gaze. "Pain is a reminder that the love was real."

It's hard to not let the wave of emotions that came with his words take over me completely and It's hard not to break down in tears in front of him.

"But what if the pain never stops?" I whisper, my breath trembling.

His face softens even more. "It will. It will take time but it will go away, and you will heal. Maybe by yourself or maybe with the help of someone else."

I blink, feeling a tear rolling down my cheekbone but before I have time to catch it, his thumb comes up and gently slides across my face. My eyes shoot to his, facing nothing but pure understanding in his gaze.

"I think it's time to call it a night." He softy says, dropping his hand from my face. His body stays close to mine and I stay almost frozen. "I don't want you to get all emotional on me."

I smile at his attempt to joke the intensity of the conversation away, as he lifts himself off my couch.

"Thank you for the company." I lean against the doorway, as he adjusts his jacket.

"Anytime." He winks. "Come by the studio tomorrow, with that coffee you owe me."

A playful scoff escapes me, his flirty personality already growing on me.

"Maybe, I will."

My answer seems to satisfy him enough cause his face breaks into one last smile. "Goodnight, Y/n."

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I love cold weather. I love the rain, the snow, the wind. I love feeling cold and wearing layers and layers of clothes. Today is one of those days and I couldn't be happier about it. I'm wearing a pair of baggy black jeans and a black turtle neck with my leather jacket and a huge scarf on top as I make my way to the studio. I had completely forgotten that I made plans with Chan to meet at the studio at 11 am. It's now 1:14 pm and prepare myself mentally as I open the studio door.

"I'm so sorry" I apologize the minute I lock eyes with Chan, his face dead serious.

"I'm changing my best friend to Felix, that's it." He turns his back on me. He's sitting in his chair as usual, while Jeongin, jisung, and Changbin are sitting on the couches. I offer them a nod with a smile and find myself scanning the room for any sight of him but I find none.

"First of all. Felix is your best friend and second I slept late I'm sorry." I spin his chair around. He crosses his hands, keeping his face straight. "I'm here aren't I?" I pout.

He lets out a breath. "Fine, you're forgiven." He says and I grin at him, satisfied.

"I swear sometimes you guys act like a married couple." Jisung appears at my side passing Chan some papers.

I elbow him playfully at which he laughs. "What are you guys working on?" I ask, making eye contact with Jeongin, across the room. He offers me a small smile, and I can't help but smile back. I didn't want to admit it but when he left yesterday, my small apartment felt a tiny bit bigger and a little more empty. It's been a while since I enjoyed someone's company that much.

"We've finally finished the song." Changbin stretches his hands. "So 4 more to go."

"Oh my god, can I hear it?" I say getting excited.

"Sure. Hold on a sec" Chan nods. I turn around walking towards the couch to sit with the guys when the door opens.

"Hannie, I couldn't find apple juice anywhere, so I grabbed orange juice instead." Minho enters the studio, holding a bottle of orange juice. He stops in his tracks, as we stand almost face to face, my expression probably mirroring his. He seems a bit lost, definitely not prepared to see me but he recovers quickly, eyes blinking the shock away and face shifting into his usual bored-looking expression.

"Why are you here again?" He sighs.

I blink back at him, forcing myself to look away, and forcing the memories of the last time we saw each other that immediately rush into my mind with only a glance at his face, away. His tone was expected honestly, but I was kinda hoping that something would have changed between us. Nothing much, nothing major, but just a little something.

"Who's Hannie?" I clear my throat, looking at the guys.

"Oh, I'm Hannie." Jisung grabs the bottle from Minho. "My last name's Han."

"Oh." I nod a few times, focusing my eyes on him as I feel Minho staring at me, not moving. "That's cute. Can I call you Hannie too?"

"No, you can't,"  Minho mumbles and walks past me, taking a seat on the couch. Clearly, nothing has changed.

"Where's my coffee sunshine?" Jeongin grins at me, changing the subject, completely and I can't help but I get a feeling that he somehow sensed my discomfort.

"Shit." I slap my forehead. "I completely forgot, I'll go grab one right now."

"What coffee?" Changbin looks between us, confused. From the way everyone's looking at us I'm guessing that Jeongin didn't tell them that we hang out yesterday. I make eye contact with Minho, waiting for Jeongin to speak up. For some reason, I can't bring myself to say anything.

"Oh, Y/n and I hang out last night."

Minho's face immediately twitches.

"I met her when I went out to grab a few beers, and since we both had nothing to do we went back to her place and watch a movie."

The words make him inhale a deep breath through his nose. His tongue makes a circle on the inside of his cheek and the over his teeth, while he slowly leans forward, resting his hands on his knees. I can't help the small smirk that sneaks into my lips and the satisfaction that I feel seeing him trying to contain his annoyance. His eyes are completely still, focusing on me, not even blinking. And then, in a split second something shifts, as if a flame of anger passes through them, and then it's gone, leaving only a small smile on his dark pink lips. A dark smile that sends chills down my spine and makes my pulse raise in a fucking second. It's almost like something crossed his mind cause he drops my gaze and leans back taking his bottom lip between his thumb and index finger.

I clear my throat. "Yeah and h-he paid so, I offered to buy him coffee today." My face feels hot and Minho's eyes snap back to mine when he hears me shutter. I thought that I had the upper hand but right now I feel completely and utterly controlled by him. His eyes shine in the most challenging way.

Come on, Y/n focus.

"Chan, do you want a coffee?" I turn to him.

"Yes, please." He throws his head back.

"Great, I'll be right back." I move towards the door, but his voice stops me dead in my tracks.

"I'm coming, I want on too."

"I'll grab it for you, you don't have to come." I mumble, but he's already off the couch and walking towards me.  

"I'll help you carry them." He says and it's not until his back is fully facing the rest of the guys that he lets his expressionless face fall into a smirk.

Fuck me.

"Minho grab one for me too." Jisung smiles and Minho lifts his eyebrows at me, the smirk not leaving his face. I sigh and walk out the door, not waiting for him. I can already feel the sweat building on my palms, my stomach turning and my heart rate rising but I continue to walk down the hall. I hear the studio door close and Minho's footsteps approaching me. Fast, maybe too fast. And then the air is knocked out of my chest as he grips my jacket and pulls me backwards so hard that my back colliding with his front was almost audible.

His sharp laugh vibrates on my back. "A movie huh?" He says, his voice sounding almost careful. As if he's trying to control himself. And that gives me a little boost. I take a breath collecting myself and masking my face. I turn to look at him, not moving my body.

"And wine" I add, shaking his grip off, and continue to walk, acting unbothered when in reality my whole back is on fire. Burning, from his touch and his breath against my neck

It takes him a second but he catches up and appears right beside me. "You're really testing my patience," He says so low, that it sounds like a growl.

"How so?" I keep my voice, loud and steady. "Why do you care?"

"I don't." He sharply laughs, shaking his head.

I break into a chuckle. "Oh my god, you're so entertaining." His head snaps my way so hard, that I'm surprised it didn't break as we keep walking, exiting the building. It's pretty clear that there's something between us, but of course, we're gonna go into fucking circles.

"Watching you use Jeongin, to get my attention is what's entertaining. You're trying too hard."

"I'm not using anyone." I scoff. "I like Jeongin, that's why I hang out with him."

"Hang out all you want with him." His face turns dark. "Just make sure that I don't find out  if he laid a finger on you in a non-friendly way 'cause then I won't be that much entertaining angel." My heart does a little jump at the use of the nickname. It's the second time he calls me that and it tickles my ears in the most attractive way.  The boys always use nicknames for me and Emma. Babe, baby, princess. I've heard them all, but none of them really stick out to me.  

Angel. None's ever called me that before.

I stop in my tracks, his tone and words forcing anger out of me. He flashes me a devilish, satisfying grin.  "Dude you're-" His eyes flicker to something behind me, his whole expression shifts, and suddenly my words disappear down my throat as the wind gets knocked out of my chest. In a swift motion, his hand wraps around my waist, making me crash into his body. I see black, my face buried in his chest and all I hear is a car honking as it drives away alongside my own heartbeat. I look up, so hesitantly, still holding my breath.

"Fucking asshole." He curses, following the car with his eyes, and then looks down at me. Concern. It's concern written all over his slightly wide eyes.

"Are you okay?" He brings his hand to the side of my head, searching my face, eyes moving everywhere, all over my face and body. I let out the breath I was holding and finally inhaled again, the air in my lungs hitting me like a train, almost burning me from the inside. 'I'm fine' I want to say but the words won't leave my mouth. I keep staring at him, my body freezing in his hands completely. I go numb and all I can hear is the sound of my own heartbeat.

His grip on my waist tightens. "Y/n."

I try to take another breath but it's hard. My stomach tightens and I can feel the unsettling feeling of panic making its way through my body. My ears start ringing and I tear my eyes away from his face, looking around, trying to focus on something. Anything.

"Hey," He cups my face with both of his hands, forcing my eyes back on him. "Focus on me yeah? Look in my eyes." His whispers in a soft voice. I exhale and try to take breaths from my nose. But the lump in my throat grows and my eyes begin to water. No, I won't cry again. I'm sick of this, this feeling of pure panic and inability to control my own mind. But the memories come rushing back, and suddenly I'm 13 again, covered in blood, screaming my lungs out. And it hurts. It hurts my brain and my heart so much that I suck a breath and bury my face in his chest. I feel him freezing, going still but it takes him only a few seconds for his arms to wrap around me.

I let out a silent sob, almost inaudible but his arms tighten even more. His hand brushed my hair softly before sliding down to my back, comforting me silently. As though he understood. As though he cared.

It felt like minutes passed but we stayed like this, glued to each other as his vanilla scent consumed me the more I buried my face into his chest, and slowly I felt like I could breathe again. But I didn't pull away. And he didn't as well. His arms felt good around me. So good, that it made my heart beat faster for a completely different reason.

I slowly lift my head, his big eyes, softer than ever looked down at me.

"I'm sorry." I pull my arms away slowly, unwrapping myself from him as the realization of what happened hit me almost as hard as that car was about to. "I'm so sorry." I flinch further away.

"Stop apologizing. " He shakes his head and takes a large step forward, closing the gap between us. He tilts my face to him, his eyes searching mine.

I wanna freeze time and keep this moment. This moment, that he's not being a dick, that he's not ignoring me, that his face is not hard and his eyes are soft, and I slowly realize that I want more moments like this with him, I wanna keep the feeling of his hands on me and the weird sense of safety that comes with it.

"Yeah." I snap back to reality. "I'm-" I clear my voice. "I was in a car accident a few years ago." The words come out before I can stop them "I'm sorry. It just happened so fast." I add, laughing awkwardly.

"Oh," Something flashes in his eyes and his hands slowly drop from my body. "I understand." He nods his head to himself a couple of times, not saying anything else. He lifts his eyes to mine, no words come out of his mouth but I feel like his gaze is silently questioning me if I wanna talk about it. I chew on my bottom lip, shaking my head lightly and trying to look anywhere else. I'm grateful that he doesn't press the matter further, not that I was expecting him to start any sort of conversation for anything.

"Come on let's go." I turn around and begin to walk. His hand comes around my waist once again, pushing me to the inner side of the sidewalk.

"Sidewalk rule." He smiles.

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"Look who's back for his second coffee of the day already." A girl with long. blond hair and big round glasses say as we reach the counter of the coffee shop.

"Hey, Maddie." Minho smiles at her and she smiles back. I stand beside him awkwardly staring at the menu, in front of me, even though I know exactly what I'm getting. "I love your hair today." He complements her and I almost snorted out loud. I wanna laugh at the way he speaks to her, I've never heard him use this tone or words to anyone.

"What can I get you? " She tugs a piece of hair behind her ear and looks at him through her glasses. I try not to roll my eyes at her classic move. Her focus stays completely on him, not even acknowledging me, standing right next to him.

"Can I have 3 iced Americanos, an iced latte, and..." He turns to me, leaning closer, and puts his hand on the counter, on the other side of my hips, kind of trapping me between his hands.

"What do you want angel?" He says close to my ear, making the blood rush into my cheeks. The girl's face visibly drops and I feel a spark of satisfaction.

"Um," I try to find my voice. "I'll have an iced latte as well." I smile at the girl, nevertheless.

She looks between us and nods with a smile. "Coming right up." When she leaves to make our order, I push Minho away, glaring at him and he laughs under his breath.

"Jealousy doesn't look good on you."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not jealous stupid. I'm uncomfortable." I pull my credit card out of my pocket.

"I'm paying." He says.

"No way. I offered to get coffee."

"I don't care." He steps in front of me, placing both of his hands on the counter.

"Fine. Then I'll pay for Jeongin's and my coffee and you can pay for the rest." I offer, trying to squeeze my way back to the counter.

"There you go" The blonde girl comes back with our coffees.

"Thank you, Maddie." Minho nods with a smile. He grabs the 3 Americanos. "Y/n, can you grab the resto for me?"

"Yeah, sure." I grab the other two but before I have time to do anything he places his phone in front of the little machine and I hear the familiar 'blink' from apple pay. "See you, tomorrow." He smiles at her.

"You're not buying him a damn coffee." He says inches away from my face and then walks out of the coffee shop.

We made our way back to the studio in almost complete silence but I was too lost in my thoughts to realize. He seemed in his head as well, cause whenever I would steal glances at him as walked, he didn't look at me once. I would kill to know what he was thinking. Or what he thinks about me in general.

.

.

.

" You have a beautiful voice." I turn to Jisung, with a genuine smile. Chan played me their song and I must say that I'm completely shocked. It's amazing how all of their voices blend in perfectly together.

His cheeks turn pink. "I sound okay."

"Oh my god," Minho rolls his eyes. "Take a compliment for once."

Jisung buries his face in his hands, blushing even more. I let out a giggle and try to take his hands off of his face. I hear Minho release a breathy laugh, drawing my attention. He's staring at Jisung with a small smile on his lips, his face is relaxed and his eyes hold a softness that I don't usually see in them. Their friendship is really interesting to me. Somehow I'm interested in anything that involves him. I have this urge to just unravel him and learn every little detail about him. Maybe cause he's been a mystery to me all this time or maybe because I'm simply drawn to him in a way that I can explain and absolutely hate.

"Seungmin, Jeongin, and Minho are the vocalists. I just help sometimes." He mumbles with a shy smile.

"I offered to change spots." Minho says.

"First of all, you can't rap to save your life."

"Bullshit" Minho scoffs.

"And second," Jisung continues "Your voice is too good to waste."

"Aww," I place a hand over my heart. "You're too sweet, I can't"

"What can I say?" He shrugs. " I am a pretty sweet guy."

I take a deep breath, getting myself ready. "So you're a vocalist? I haven't heard you sing yet." I turn to Minho. This is the first time I address him in a conversation, without trying to pick a fight, so this can go both ways.

His posture remains relaxed and his small smile from before grows into a smirk. "I haven't seen you dance yet."

Some tension rolls off of me. "That will not happen."

"Then you won't hear me sing."

I narrow my eyes on him. "You know I can just ask Chan to play me the song you recorded last time right? Your demo specifically."

His smirk grows more. "And you know that I know where you practice?" He shoots back. "Right?"

"Shut up." I shake my head.

He lets his lips turn into a smile. His teeth are exposed to me for the first time. His smile lights up his whole face and I let my eyes admire him a bit.

"Y/n?" Chans calls.

"Yeah?"

He keeps his eyes on Minho for a few seconds before speaking. "I think we need to talk to Hyunjin," he says in an unsure tone.

"What?" I straighten up. "What do you mean?"

"Check his insta story and the group chat." he says staring at his phone. I pull out my own phone and open Instagram to check his story.

"He's listening to that song..." Chan sighs, making eye contact with me.

"What song?" Jisung leans closer to me, trying to take a look.

"And he's spamming the group chat..." I mutter.

"And what about it?" Minho leans in as well, trying to hide his interest.

"It's his break-up song.." Chan sighs. "I'm going."

"No," I get up. "I think it's better if I go."

I grab my bag and my jacket. "Okay, but text me." Chan says.

"I will."

.

.

.

.

.

.

He buries his face further into my arms as he sobs uncontrollably. For as long as I know him, I have never seen Hyunjin cry like that, he's a mess. When I walked into his room, I found him curled into a ball, under layers of blankets, staring at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes.

I smooth his messy blonde hair, trying to calm him down. "I'm going to kill her." I say through my teeth.

He sniffs. "How can she be so fucking fake?"

"I don't know." I honestly answer, shaking my head. They'd been with each other for almost a year now, she looked head over heels for him. Hyunjin went over to her dorm to surprise her and he caught her fucking some other dude.

"Wait, who was the guy?" The question that I had totally forgotten to ask, suddenly pops up in my mind.

He lifts his head to look at me through his wet lashes. "One of Jackson's friends."

I tense up. "What?" My voice comes out louder than I intended.

He nods his head. "Yeah, I swear once I stop crying, I'll beat the shit out of him." He says through sniffs.

"I'll do it for you, don't worry." I clench my jaw. " God, I fucking hate him and his whole group." Even when Jackson and I were dating, I never really got along with his friends. They were all just a bunch of stupid fuckboys with absolutely zero respect towards anyone.

"Actually, I have to tell you something." He hesitantly says.

"I don't like the sound of that."

"Well," He thinks for a second and I feel myself already getting annoyed. "Remember when I told you that I'll ask around for the club we were talking about? For New years? The one that has live performances?"

"Yeah.." After a lot of fighting and back and forth, we decided that on New Year's Eve, we'll stay at the frat until midnight and then go to this super popular club that everyone is talking about around campus. It's going to have live performances by unknown artists. Many people say that Drake and Jack Harlow are 2 of them. The problem is that we don't know how we're getting in.

"Um," He pauses.

"Oh my god, Hyunjin just say it."

"Jackson's uncle owns the club." He finally says.

I groan, blurring my face into my hands. "That's just fucking great."

"So we can't beat them up just yet. " He jokes.

Jackson is incredibly famous around campus and his career is pretty much set already thanks to his father's connections to the music industry. To be honest, he is talented but everything has been handed to him, he never really tried for anything.

"Fuck" I sigh.

"Yeah, fuck."

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

Ya know. I'm sick of seeing the Palestinian flag everywhere.

No for real. I'm tired of it. I've said this a number of times but fascists, communists and socialist, as well as anarchists, hate jews. And all of them believe the Nazi propaganda about them.

What's even more sad is watching people call for the death of an entire country because they view them as "White" when MOST jews in Israel are arguably not remotely white. This includes Arab and African Jews. But it's funny watching the Rhetoric of the KKK and Neo Nazi's show itself in the group I will now refer to as the FCSA.

"Jews control the world", "Jews are making everyone gay", Jews control all the money", "Jews are all rich and white". Yeah yeah yeah we've seen the Hitler talk for years. We know the bullshit you stupid fucks believe. War is bad but what is going on now is retaliation for a MASSACRE. Hamas and even the people of Gaza, those you call "Palestinians" are VERY specific about who they point the finger at too. So I hear nonstop the idea of "Colonizer" meanwhile this is what the Arab conquest looked like:

Interestingly, before this happened, Judah was a place. Israel in fact was mentioned in the Koran a number of times. Meaning it predated even the Muslim faith. Muhammad, was the purveyor of this faith. So if anything, the progressive should be on the side of Israel. BUT do you know why they aren't? Because in their view? Jews are "White Oppressors".

Now is killing civilians bad? Yes. Is war bad? Also yes. But sadly when it comes to war, civilians die. Except in this case, it's because Hamas are willing to do whatever it needs to, to both protect themselves, (including human shields) which also helps them spread propaganda that the Israeli military are hunting the people of Gaza for sport. See.....fog of war is a shit thing and everyone is going to have their own side. Me? Hamas is a radical sect of Islam. We see them when they do videos in LAVISH places with trinkets that would make the Vatican blush. Why? By stopping aid into Gaza, taking money from Iran, and then selling the aid for a HUGE markup, to get more rich.

What happened to eat the rich? OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH RIGHT when they are brown or black it's fine if they are rich right? Because you arrogant fucks don't actually believe anything at all. And none of your views are consistent. Hamas admitted the "Death count" it was sending out was GROSSLY inflated and every single country took it at face value and has yet to correct it. And now, the leaders of Hamas are some of the single richest people on earth. What's more, they want more people from Gaza to die because it makes them (Hamas) look more oppressed. And makes Jews and Israel, look evil.

Then there are the anarchists who I love hearing from *Sarcasm* who want to abolish Israel, but will outright deny that Islam sees Judaism as a slight against their god. Believe me when I say that if Israel left the rest of the hostages to die or be tortured.....this conflict would not stop. Hamas would strike again and again, and anarchists would say, "Well that's just what Israel gets for existing. If they just gave it to the Arabs everything would be sunshine and rainbows". OH so Arabs get to own land and have a theocracy where they commit humans rights violations but Israel can't exist? Sounds to me that the issue you have is the Jewish homeland there sir. Oh and if you think the Jewish people would be safe? Nope. They'd have to escape to other places around the world, knowing it's only a matter of time before those other countries turn on them.

Like the Leftists in the West, who are hunting and harming/threatening Jews with ZERO ties to Israel over this conflict. Enough that a number of students got trapped in a library because a mob formed outside chanting "From the river to the sea". A phrase both created by Hamas and used as a genocidal chant.

Civilian deaths are bad. We get it. But why does NO ONE seem to give a fuck about the massacre? "Oh it was bad but~", No there is no BUT. IT WAS FUCKING AWFUL. And Hamas has stated it's goals over and over. Yet the cult of activists in the west will just dick suck actual terrorists so long as they aren't "White" or "White adjacent". It's even funnier when you consider shit like "Queers for Palestine". Bro they would stone you nearly to death, castrate you then throw you off a fucking building. The LAW in Gaza as enforced by Hamas, was 10 years MIN jail if you were caught being a homosexual. Assuming you lived to SEE jail.

And it actually gets more weird. Seeing the far right say, "Jews are helping create the gays" while the far left is saying "Jews HATE the gays and Islam actually loves them". Have you assholes READ the Koran? Or any related books of the faith? It expressly FORBIDS homosexuality if I recall, and sees it as a slight against Allah. And for slights against their god, they can and WILL kill you. (NOT ALL but enough of the countries that follow it that it's an issue).

My point is. I don't really have a dog in the fight of this conflict. It's just funny watching the FCSA all come together and pretend they don't hate Jews while TARGETING Jews. And I'm tired of influencers, Bands, Actors, and Activists pretending they know what's going on when all they are actually doing is swallowing Hamas propaganda whole. Again. A leader of Hamas has openly said they want more civilians to die because it makes them look more sympathetic. Many have tried to escape only to be blocked off by Hamas. And given their track record for propaganda I would not put it past them to kill an IDF member, take their uniform, and go execute some civilians and then use their Hamas journalists who were on GREAT terms with the UN to film it and create a fucking puff piece worshiping these terrorist fucks. Who DO NOT care about civility, rights, or peoples lives.

[fishhjuice]

What do you think Beika and Ichiya's home/family life was like?

Oh i was prepared for this question!!! I talked to my friends about it so all of this was prewritten except lil additions!!

Beika is the child of a single parent, Nagisa "Nagi" Kabayaki Onaga. Havs you seen that tumblr post thats like "I could never be a parent because whenever my kid did something nice i would go "Oh shit little dude thats sick as fuck". He’s that. He was very supportive and tried his best at all times, and Beika had to doubt Nagisa's love. This doesn't make him a good parent, and Beika's childhood was never one i call easy.

As how it goes, more about him and also Ichiya’s situation under the cut.

To give you a bit of context! Nagisa used to be the black sheep of his family until he decided to voluntarily exile himself from the Onagas after a fight he got into with his father, who would be Beika's (and Frye's) grandfather. But of course people aren’t privy to Onaga's private family life, so as far as people know Nagisa got disowned by Dadaji Onaga. And because no one wanted to anger the head of, you know, one of the most influential families of the region, most people refused to help him out or show him any kindness to stay in good graces with Onagas. So he goes from a clueless rich boy to a guy who has to earn everything in the most difficult ways. He was just miserable by himself, he was tired of being treated like scum of earth wherever he went because of Onaga influence. I figure he missed being loved. So when the opportunity to have Beika presented itself he just took it and Beika's mother left very soon after. She made it very clear that she would take no part in it other than. Egg.

So, these kind of circumstances were the circumstances Beika was born into, to a barely adult dirt poor social pariah dad who loved the idea of his kid very much with very few means to provide, which Beika all inherited. Other than the obvious stuff like how impoverishment would be hard on a small kid, Beika also dealt with the social exclusion Nagisa was subject to. I think it was the kind of situation mothers and fathers of her classmates would not wanting their kid to talking to Beika, and when Beika grew up there being no jobs "available" for her, and when C-side couldn't book a gig they should absolutely have been able to as if they were blacklisted before they got to do anything pre-fame. (I think Nagisa never regretted having a child but he has a lot of regrets about having that child be His child and go through all of. this.)

Nagisa couldn't be there most of the time, which he didn’t really account for. He spent a lot of his time basically trying to earn their living from whichever jobs he could get (mostly unsavory ones, like salmon run but with local firms that cut corners) which also made him miss out on a lot of parenting too. And by the time he had time Beika was a fully realized person. And he didn’t stop willingly either, he lost that arm of his and when he forcibly spent time with his kid it was like oh she's a person now and I was there for none of that.

Nagisa, when he was there, was very loving but unequipped. Nagisa had a lot of ideals on what kind of parent he should be, Like He would be soo good he would never put that much responsibility to his kid like His dad did or try force the kid into anything she didnt wanna do he was gonna do good he was gonna do great he would get his shit together. Because he wanted to be nothing like his dad, and because he couldn't cope with the idea of making Beika as “miserable” as he was (even though it would be momentarily and necessary, as parents tell kids no and give them responsiblities sometimes) it made him too permissive of a parent, and it made him treat Beika like a friend and not like a child who needs rules to live by and help managing her impulses. Not to mention, he himself due to his troubled upbringing had a harm time coping with his emotions and understanding them, which is to say he himself couldn't teach how to approriately approach and deal with feelings, and couldn't react appropriately to Beika's feelings and support them either. He himself forced himself to go through the motions of negative emotions and move on from them as soon as possible to Never look back thank you very much, and never showed his negative emotions ever, which in turn meant there was no example Beika could learn off of.

Like, when one of only friends Beika has ever made leaves her, replaces her, rubs it in her face, "That's rough, buddy", said with the most genuine tone. And when Beika carries that hurt to adulthood, "you're all grown up now, why do you are so much? You two were best friends you should talk it out like adults. I don’t want you to make yourself sad for no reason" said in the most sincere, puzzled way.

Beika is very aware of Nagisa’s faults, so is Nagisa of how often times he failed Beika. But i think Beika doesn’t really fault him for it. In their best days it’s very easy for them to love each other because its two of them! And in their worst days it felt like an obligation because, its two of them. Who else did they have?

As for Ichiya, i think his family situation was in some ways better, so this will be a lot shorter. I headcanon him to have been raised by his aunt Niika Gessou.

(Art by @/kikuracside, my lovely boyfriend)

The reason for this is I imagine Ichiya’s parents to have been from a band that got very famous and fell out of fame very soon after, and continued it’s existence catering to a very niche audience that toured around a lot, so they didn’t really have the time to take care of their kid(s, as I headcanon Ikkan and Ichiya to be half-siblings). Niika was the kind of lady who wanted a kid but had no luck dating, so when her brother was having a kid she very gladly took on the responsiblity herself. She was also somewhat permissive and didn’t want to upset Ichiya, and quite often spoiled him, with no bad intentions of course. But it was mostly Ichiya’s mother, Maki that put the ideas of being a prodigy rockstar in Ichiya’s head, which Niika supported in every way she can, perhaps too much.

I think she sees everything that happened with Ichiya during SQSQ and how abrasive he can be, and now Ichiya’s current state, him being so upset with himself, and wonders where she failed him. But I think Ichiya does not think in any way Niika failed him, at all. They love each other too much.

I also headcanon since Ichiya and Beika were so close, she babysat Beika a lot. I think despite their kids’… rough relationship, Niika and Nagisa are still very… close. Beika is just grateful he Nagisa someone other than his coworker/work partner that he can call close, and also that he is a grown ass man and it would be wild and selfish to try control what this grown ass man does. Ichiya does not like this at all and wishes Niika would not talk to Nagisa at all.

So, yeah!

[milf--adjacent]

"Transmisogyny is not an identity" no one is fucking arguing that, shit for brains. TMA means you face a specific intersection of oppression. TME means you do not. It's not a choice to identify: it is cohersion and violence based upon the expectations and perceptions of others intersecting with societal biases and structural inequalities. Someone who doesn't experience transmisogyny is exempt from that axis of oppression. It's really that fucking simple. I'm so sick of people who haven't read anything besides tumblr posts about gender telling me how I'm hurting people by giving a name to something people wield against me as a woman who has a certian identity and experience they literally cannot have.

Why will none of these people realize that arguing isn't their place, isn't welcome, and isn't making the point they think it is? If you made the same arguments against misogynoir, people would (rightly) call you a racist. In the same vein, the same arguments would get you called a sexist if used against misogyny. Why is it somehow different when you argue against transfems talking about the subtleties of how people within their communities harm them.

[librarycards]

Do you know how stop obsessing over calories (look at pictures of food and watch videos of people in hospital) easier than "Just Start Eating More"? Every person says "Well, eat more and you will not think of it so much". I am not from U.S and harm reduction is not even in my language. Doctors here do not know this concept and it is thought "You do not eat so now you are sick. Go to the hospital or eat with parents". I learn about harm reduction on Tumblr and forums but I do not find an answer to make it easier. Maybe it does not be easier. If this is so, I understand, but I think of it often.

Oy. If I had a fix for calories, you can bet i'd be screaming it from the rooftops. that said, I have gotten to a place where I can look at food a Normal Amount and not watch those awful before & afters and the like, so i'm including below a few recs that don't involve (for example) eating more, decreasing activity, and other traditional 'recovery' methods.

find a new, niche/weird thing to watch videos about. seriously. get obsessed with some hobby or subculture and fill your ig, etc. feed with those! i went through a phase where i'd just watch flight attendant vlogs. i also love "draw/paint/package things with me" videos. Ideally, these would be videos where the person's body wasn't constantly centered.

relatedly - when i was really fixated on peoples' hospital stays and bodies and tubes and stuff, it was because i was lonely. i was desperate for someone who actually shared this experience with me, because i hadn't processed it yet. the best way to address this takes time, but is very worth it: make friends. irl and online. make friends with people who have shared experiences and are good listeners, but are also fun to talk to about other things.

if you do want to keep watching videos about food, you can reduce harm by watching people who promote positive and curious relationships with food! emmymadeinjapan on youtube is one example of this. the baker Erin McDowell is another.

forgive yourself, and make space for doing things partway + in grey areas. this was. like. the hardest thing for me: i spent so much time early on either eating everything on my plate or, if one element was too scary, eating none of it. this isn't a realistic way to approach anything in life! i don't know how old you are or how much of your diet you currently control, but if you are able to decide what's on your plate, make it a mix of things you know you can eat and things you're not sure about.

or, build in a time of day where you try a new snack, even if you aren't able to do it every time. the point is creating new habits -- habits in which you give yourself permission to eat. not because you are required to, but because you have important and meaningful things to do with your life + you need to eat in order to be alive for them!

honestly, there's only so much advice I can give beyond simply gritting your teeth and Doing the Thing. it fucking sucks, and it hurts, but it's much easier when you have warm people in your life who understand, and ways of entertaining yourself that are attendant to your experience but not completely mired in it. this is an important reminder that you're a regular person who can have a variety of regular interests! this is a part of you, but it does not wholly define you, and you have a whole life to live and relationships + hobbies to explore beyond this focus on calories + institutions.

[aftgtookme]

my thoughts while reading The Sunshine Court

Only on page 2 and I have to put it down a moment. The idea of Jean going through that... Burn for eternity, riko.

"Every breath he managed and every inch he moved sent pain shuddering through him. There was deep and lingering damage in too many places. It sank through his chest and gut like acid, eating away whatever was left of him. It hurt like hell, but he'd worked through worse." WTF???!?!!!!!! I hope we see moriyama die in this book.

"Jean couldn't remember the last time he'd been allowed to wear color." Fuck. And THIS is where he grew up: Marseille. Have you seen the photos of this beautiful place? *Cries*

Jean: "Leave the bottle with me." Abbey: "You know I can't." Oh god. I need to lay down for a while now. This boy has been through so much and it is hurting my heart. I want him to get to a point where the only pain he feels is the stitch he gets from laughing too much, and the ache in his muscles from smiling.

I don't like how much Jean is self-harming to cope (like when he's remembering things, and he gives himself pain to centre himself - that's awful. It hurts. This boy needs a hug.

"the tiny bastard" lmao

"Kevin's pet monster"

"This isn't happening." It fucking is babe, and you WILL be happy.

Finally, someone who finds Wymack's alcoholism as worrying as I do 😭

" "I'd never taken him for a dreamer." Abby sent Wymack a soft look," like father like son 😭🥺

"It was safer to say he was ridiculously fragile than to attract unwanted attention from above by prying." I have no words. I have no words. He was found at the bottom of the stadium steps four times? Constant broken fingers and stitches? What the fuck? How did no single raven go, wait a minute, actually, maybe I shouldn't ignore this abuse any longer? Just... Just... when these Ravens leave the nest, maybe years down the line, when the shroud of Edgar Allen and that coach is fully gone, when they clear their heads after years of sixteen hour days, will they realise how cruel they became, how cruel their silence was? Did none of his teachers wonder? Why is this kid getting so many injuries from a sport??

page 43: I'm sorry, what? And 'riko had put them up to it'??? Does that mean what I think it means? I actually feel sick. Just thinking about it makes him dissociate. Riko should have had a more painful death. Those ravens deserve so much pain. All these people should be in prison. This is heartbreaking. This is infuriating. He deserves people who show him kindness, and gentleness, and safety, and happiness.

(end of chapter 2 and I'm crying. This boy deserves every happiness and joy in the world.)

[httpskarmaco-main]

CW/TW: Mentions of murder, incest, abuse, assault (physically and sexually) and stalking.

I genuinely hate how badly the DR fandom normalizes obviously toxic/harmful ships. "Oh stop trying to make a ship war-" It's not a ship war. You guys are out here literally shipping family members together and see no problem with it? Kanon and Kuwata, really? Korekiyo and his obviously abusive sister? I've seen some of y'all ship fucking Makoto and Komaru and post it like nothing is wrong with what you just created - it is so mind numbing how stupid some of you DR fans are.

Not to mention Murder x Victim. It's so stupid how much Ibuki/Mikan, Leon/Sayaka, are shipped or Chihiro/Mondo are. "Oh but my ship is in a non-despair setting-" I literally do no care. Your AU isn't canon, none of your guys AU's are - but you know what is canon? The actual universe where that person did kill the other. You AU's don't change anything about what's canon. I will say, with some ships like Nagito/Chiaki and Kaede/Rantaro are acceptable - 1, Chiaki didn't even know what she did kill Nagito and had no intent to ever kill Nagito and same with Kaede; she didn't even kill Rantaro, she was framed.

An honorable mention for this part is Ishimaru/Celestia. Holy fuck that ship pisses me off so much. Celestia didn't kill Ishimaru, I'll give you that, but that's the only good thing - she still planned out how to kill him but just got Hifumi to do so but you wanna know how she got Hifumi on board to do so? Lying about Ishimaru blackmailing her and assaulting her both physically and sexually. Not even that, she basically framed Ishimaru too for stealing Alter Ego.

You can see any of these Murder x Victim as close friends but for the love of god, do not ship them - it's toxic.

Lastly, a toxic ship that pisses me off so much; Toko/Byakuya. How the hell is this ship so popular and normalized? It's not only Stalker x Stalked but also Abuser x Abused. Byakuya literally gets physically sick from Toko just fantasizing about him and he can be miles away. Plus not to mention all the comments she makes about Byakuya to his face which he has shown great discomfort in and has told her to stop multiple times, but does she? No. "Oh but Toko has a mental disorder-" boo fucking hoo. You can't use a mental disorder as an excuse epically since it's literally only Toko doing this - Syo just wants to kill Byakuya and Syo doesn't make comments towards Byakuya like Toko does. And Toko has been told multiple times by Byakuya that he doesn't like it. Also may be wonder "oh, how is it Abuser x Abused? Toko doesn't hurt Togami physically." Yeah, PHYSICALLY. But she does abuse him emotionally - Byakuya would literally lock himself in a bathroom just to get away from her.

I'm just glad that I don't see Junko or Tsumugi ships normalized. They both literally made games to have people kill each other and Junko literally took over the fucking world.

Sorry, I just needed to rant because I've been seeing too many fanarts of toxic ships and it's pissing me off. Also hate me for this, I really don't care - it's the truth.

[swamp-spirit]

So You’re in Effexor/Venlafaxine Withdrawal

Had some provider change bullshit and went from 225 mg a day for years to cold turkey for five days. Effexor’s pretty famous for being The Fucking Worst withdrawal wise, but it honestly works great for me. I’m a dumbass with ADHD, so I often end up without a day or two, but HOO BOY five days was a lot.

Unfortunately, most withdrawal advice I’ve found it targeted at people who are intentionally going off Effexor and focused on working with a doctor and weening slowly, not super relevant to me. I wanted to write up what I’ve learned to help other people who might be going through the withdrawal and not have access to Effexor or a doctor. None of this magically fixes it, it’s just making the shit timeframe until you can get your meds a bit less shit.

Note, this is pretty much all personal experience, and there’s not much research. This is not formal medical advice, and if you can talk to a professional, please do. Also note that I have a number of side conditions that may influence my experience. (Withdrawal is actually something that can be so personal.)

Know the Emergency Signs I’m not gonna fully list symptoms here, plenty of people have done that, but know which symptoms are normal ‘yup this sucks‘ symptoms and which are ‘oh shit‘ symptoms.  If you’re in this situation, I imagine the odds are good money is part of the problem, but know Urgent Care and the ER will usually give you an emergency prescription, so if you feel like things are getting that bad anyways, it’s good to go before it gets worse.

Don’t Drive I can’t drive ever, but pls don’t do this in withdrawal. I know you might have obligations, and I know calling a ride is expensive, but getting in a car crash is more expensive.

Try Not to Be Alone If you can, ask a friend over, go to a family members house, whatever you can. A lot of the emergency signs (delirium, seizures, losing consciousness) mean you can’t seek care for yourself. It’s good to have somebody around who knows what to look for. The biggest danger to people in Effexor withdrawal tends to be the mental symptoms. If it’s safe, let your loved ones know that you’re at higher risk for self harm and suicidal thoughts, and what you’d like them to do if  they’re worried. Most situations aren’t going to be that bad. Usually, it just sucks, but like... it’s good to have somebody around who can bring you soup and listen to you feel sorry for yourself. Treat it like having the flu, and know you deserve the same care as anyone else in that situation. (Yes, even if it’s ‘your fault’ you ran out of meds. If punishing yourself for not thinking ahead/missing an insurance detail/forgetting something worked, I’d never miss a dose.)

Chill Out Your Nervous System A lot of the symptoms (brain zaps and shivers esp) are your nervous system going out of control, so doing calming techniques can actually help. Getting hugs, bundling up somewhere cozy, and doing deep breathing is legit medical treatment for soothing out a haywire system.

Track When In the Day It’s Worst Being sick, unfortunately, does not always mean you don’t have shit to do. I realized pretty quickly my shakes were a ton worse at night, so, even though I didn’t want to do much during the morning, if it had to get done, that’s when it was going to happen. It can also be good just so, when you’re symptoms are at their worst, you can remember that it won’t be like this the entire time until you get meds.

Indulge Cravings When your body’s doing heavy lifting, it starts yelling for whatever weird shit it thinks might help. That’s what weird pregnancy cravings are, and that’s what you need now. Save the diet for later, get a little lax on the grocery budget, and have zero shame about replacing dinner with pickle juice mixed with gatoraid or whatever. If you deal with nausea, try to stick to small meals of whatever seems doable. My personal buddy was Morningstar Veggie sausages since they’re high protein without being too dense or fatty.

Medicine Cabinet Helpers Dangerous layman advice!!! I saw medical pages advise it but still be careful!!! That said, holy shit, those dramamine lemon ginger chews are my best friends now, followed shortly by melatonin gummies and advil.

Room Temp Baths Hot baths can be a lot on an overtaxed nervous system, but I found pleasantly warm water was very pleasant.

Sick Day Entertainment When electronics are overwhelming, books are hard, you can’t get out of bed, and you desperately need a distraction, it’s good to have things you can handle. Some ideas -Calling somebody -Audiobooks/podcasts -Coloring Honestly, more suggestions here would be great. My go to was podcasts, but I know a lot of people, trying to track a podcast in withdrawal sounds like hell.

Anyway, cheers to making it out the other side, because you will. In the meantime, spoil the shit out of yourself.

[cloudninetonine]

*walks on in slowly, awkwardly waves and hands you hot chocolate* Hey, so how have you been doing? Apologies I've been MIA, suddenly became a second dog mom and life's been kicking my butt.

So anyway before I make it like Plato and start rambling about the First introduction fic or go off about Fia or ramble about a Player ends up in the flooded part of the timeline au and probably pass out from lack of sleep- *throws this at you and runs off without elaborating*

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

You've done it. You shakily breath, in, out, in, out, as you step slowly towards the door you feel your hands shake, looking at the still form of the man on the ground.

The awful screaming still rings in your ears, you were sure they were bleeding even now even as you had choked the Fae into unconsciousness, the smell of burnt, no, withered flesh clings to the back of your tongue as you check the hall, keeping your eyes onto Conquest's fallen form. Hands twisting into the iron chain Hyrule had given you, you feel the blood staining the cold metal, hungry for it like how it had been starving for the hero's flesh.

("Just in case", he'd said, you wanted to laugh and cry and scream that he was right, in a way, you did need it against him eventually, from a certain point of view.

... You feel sick to your stomach and in the head, making jokes at a time like this.)

You're surprised none of those other men who wore the faces of your friends hadn't come investigate by now, the screams could probably rival those of a redead when exposed to sunlight. You don't find yourself complaining as you slam the door shut behind yourself, slotting the bloody key in with unsteady hands, (slick with your blood, Conquest's blood) lock it. And then walk away from there.

You learned the hard way running would just make your situation worse. Besides, you'd need to conserve whatever energy you could now, in case you really needed to make a break for it, or hopefully hide in an empty room. It was a good thing there wasn't a shortage of them in this abandoned house from what little you'd seen of this place after being forcefully brought here.

... You hated to put your trust in any of them, in any way shape or form, knowing what that monster in human skin had in mind was not something you'd ever want to know, but you hoped Conflict kept his end of the bargain.

Sticking to the shadows and where the torches glow the faintest, you soon find a stairwell and go down the stairs, two steps at a time, and a another eerily silent wing later you soon find yourself in a dungeon, because of course you would, your luck is awful enough you're not even surprised they put you in a wing that leads directly to where they likely tortured people. It was cold, dreary and damp, the scent of fresh and old blood made you want to vomit. But you refused, pressing on, trying not to look at the evidence of these men's cruelty, at the mutilated bodies of monsters and people alike, every single thing that would make you break and hinder your escape, at everything that yells and howls and rages at you at your stupidity to have mistaken Abyss for Sky that day and mistaking pain and such vile, horrible snarls for applause.

... You missed your boys, you missed the girls, all you wanted was to go home. Or someone who didn't want to kill or harm you for the moment.

Clang

You freeze, someone was here.

Your eyes dart about, finding a darkened pillar in between the cells and dive for it, pressing yourself close, but enough you'd be able to peer outside to the corridor.

Your eyes widen and you put both hands over your mouth, muffling the shocked sound attempting to escape your throat.

Wild- (Not, not Wild, not your Wild, your sweet, caring Wild, who'd tried his best and who only lived up to his namesake against enemies, to defend, never to intentionally harm)

That man wearing your Champion's garb, locked in furious combat with a similarly hooded person, crimson bloomed and flowed in rivulets over the harsh head wound on his head. The person had two broken shackles on each wrist and were doing their darnest to get away, using their spear to keep the twisted form of your Champion from slicing their head clean off their shoulders, they kick at his crotch with a heeled boot and when he moves back they charge at him with a war cry, slamming him against the wall and you flinch at the sickening crack his skull makes against the old, dirty bricks, he crumples like a puppet with his strings cut courtesy of the stranger dropping the spear, digging their fingers to his temples and slamming it again even as he squeezed their arm hard enough to break bone. You numbly take note of the golden ornaments on their right hand emanating a dim, weak, green glow and the wound on their shoulder, torso and calf, a slash through their shoulder, seems they gave the 'hero' just as good as he got on them. Since his only notable wounds were the head ones.

They take a deep, shaky breath, their hands are trembling, shaken but they growl, spitting blood near the man's downed body, "And stay down you fucking cunt!" After a moment, they flinch, hissing in pain, they drop to their knees and you fight the instinct to run to their aid, what if it was an act? "Christ on a stick stripteasing in a playboy bunny suit, fuck me gently with a chainsaw." Their words make you twitch, unconsciously stepping out of the hollow between the wall and the cell as they take his sword and chuck it away, then snag the Sheikah Slate.

That-

"Was that a Heathers reference?"

... Shit.

Guess that's how you die huh? Clowning yourself over because a Heathers reference.

The person tenses, whipping their head to your direction, they blink, one of their eyes a bright green, like yours, they seem to do a double take, eye widening, "Sans Undertale?!"

To be continued...

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

It's not much and likely not all that good but it's a start, going to leave it on my blog later xD, Twi's Vil self gets jumped on part two. *Runs off*

-A Very Tired Summertime Musician.

SUMMER GET BACK HERE AND GIVE ME THE REST I FUCKING WANT IT NOW

[m00nl1ght-sun25]

Heya! I'm the greenflower request sjxnks

I really don't have preference

But you can make something connecting with when they live in Darkley, like, Brad or Lloyd remember something similar happened in their children's

Maybe after the s8, or any season after s8 likee s10 or s15

Ok! :D also i realized like a sentence or two before I finished it that I didn’t really have lloyd sick- i was more focused of hurt/comfort and like darklys and all- im really sorry, if you want I can do a part 2 where it focuses more on lloyd being sick, again i’m really sorry. But i hope you enjoy and also if you do end up disliking this fanfic please tell me and and I can always remake it- so the fanfic will be under the cut and also if you do not know, I am dyslexic so to anyone reading, please don’t be rude or mean if I misspell anything wrong or phrase stuff wrong, you can always politely tell me and I will gladly fix it, please and thank you! :D

Heads up

This is after seabound/season 15

I hc that after nya left lloyd ran away to live with brad in a apartment so that’s where lloyd is :)

This takes place after the burning fate oneshot :P

Trigger warning

Suicidal thoughts

Cussing

Depression

Implied Self harm

Implied and mentioned Child abuse(different parts)

Mentioned Suicide attempt

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

You and I Drink The Poison From The Same Vile

The rain was falling around Lloyd as he blankly looked over the balcony and into the busy streets on the busy city. He often stood here, just wondering what would happen if he jumped off and ended it all… would anyone miss him? No. No one would. 

He was letting him tired mind wonder in this moment of sorrow. He thought about many things… Nya, The others, His parents, Master Wu… He was thinking about it. How this was all his fault. If he wasn’t the fucking green ninja none of this would’ve happened. Nya would still be here if he wasn’t a shitty leader or friend. 

He wonders how different life would be if he hadn’t gotten kicked out of Darklys… would Nya still be here? Yes. She would. Because then Lloyd likely wouldn’t have become the green ninja and so she wouldn’t of had the sacrifice herself for his stupidity. 

Hair falls in his face but he doesn’t have the strength to move it… he’s so tired and his wrists sting so badly and he’s so fucking tired form being unable to get sleep without having night terrors. But he deserves it, does he not? He doesn’t deserve to be content and happy in life. Not after he was the reason Nya, his (adopted) sister, is gone. 

Everyone probably hates him. Why hasn’t Brad broke up with him? He’s a monster. He killed his own sister. All he does is kill. His father, Harumi, Zane with the overlord, Morro, and… Nya. He could’ve saved all these people or taken their place and things would’ve been so much better. But no, their paying the price. The price he deserves, not them…. Okay maybe Morro does deserve to die… but… Even if he did hurt Lloyd so much, Lloyd still feels sick thinking like how Morro does. 

“You’re going to get sick like this, Lloyd…”

The sudden voice made Lloyd jump and he quickly looked back into the apartment balcony door to see Brad, his boyfriend, give him a worried look… Lloyd still can’t get that look out of his face from when Brad “saved him” from committing. The absolute terror and sadness Brad had in his eyes that day… it as only a couple of weeks ago. Lloyd feels like a absolute dick for making Brad so worried. He’s such a burden for Brad. He should just jump. Maybe this time nothing will be in his way and he would make Brad so much happier.

Lloyd flinches a bit when Brad took Lloyds hand in his. Gently intertwining their fingers and giving Lloyd a soft smile. He gently pulled Lloyd into the apartment and closed the balcony door behind him. Brad pulled Lloyd to the couch, which Lloyd followed him with hollow eyes that kept their gaze on the ground. 

Lloyd didn’t say or do anything as Brad sat him on the couch with a soft but worried expression. Ever since Lloyds last attempt Brad has been even more protective and watchful of Lloyd. 

His dull green eyes looked up to see Brad walk into their bedroom and walk out with a blanket a second later. When Brad walked up to Lloyd he draped it across his shoulders and Lloyd looked to the ground as Brads soft blue eyes tried to lock with his.

Brad gently sighed and plopped on the couch next to his blonde lover. The blue eyed boy wrapped his fingers around the green eyed boy’s. A look of love was on Brads face as he looked at the beautiful blonde. 

“Do you want to talk about it Lloyd…?”

Brad tried to tilt his head so he could be in Lloyd’s field of vision but Lloyd turned his head to the side so he couldn’t look at brad. Lloyds shoulders tensed and he shook his head.

Brad was upset but he knew it would only get better if Lloyd talked about it, he gently squeezed Lloyds hand in his and rubbed his thumb across the back of Lloyds hand as he said in a soft voice.

“Please, I just want to help.”

Lloyd knew that Brad wouldn’t stop until Lloyd told him what was bothering him so Lloyd just sighed and leaned onto Brads side and whispered with his voice filled with guilt.

“I was thinking about Nya… and how different things would’ve been if I was never kicked out of Darklys. Like… would I still be the green ninja? Would Nya still be here? Just so many questions….”

Brad flinched as Lloyd mentioned Darklys, the place was hard for them both. But especially Lloyd. The teachers knew how good Lloyd was so they thought that beating it into him would “fix” him. It didn’t. It just made him more traumatized. 

So, Brad thought for a moment of how to respond to Lloyd. He wrapped his arm around Lloyds shoulders and kissed his cheek, Lloyd glanced at Brad with that but then looked away. Brad understood how much pressure Lloyd put on himself… so he didn’t mind. He knew Lloyd loved him.

“Lloyd… I think, in full honesty, being kicked out of Darklys was honestly the best thing for you… I don’t think you would’ve… I don’t think you would’ve survived. They were so brutal, and to you the most. You… You were so skinny and always had cuts and bruises… And with Nya. That wasn’t your fault. It was no one’s. Nya choose to do that, and I don’t think she would want you to blame yourself for her decision.”

Lloyd sat quietly thinking about it, he laid his head on Brads shoulder as he looked up at Brad. He tensed when Brad mentioned how harsh Darklys was… he understood why Brad thought that, but maybe just give Lloyd a few years and he would’ve been just like his father in that hellhole. 

Then he thought about what Brad said about Nya, and how she wouldn’t want him to blame himself. Now, he can see that. But that doesn’t stop him. He feels like a failure, and that’s never going to go away. He’s the leader. It’s supposed to be his role to keep everyone safe, and he failed. He couldn’t save her. He quit when she needed him most…. ninja never quit? Well he must not be a ninja then. 

Brad carried his fingers through Lloyds soft blonde hair, and kissed his forehead. Lloyd felt like melting at the affection. But at the same time he felt like yelling at Brad and telling him to stop, Lloyd doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve Brad. Or anyone for a matter of fact. 

Instead of doing anything though Lloyd just laid in Brads arms. He was still a bit wet and shaking from standing in the rain… Brad was right, Lloyd would get sick… great. 

He wrapped the blanket from Brad more around himself and then sneezed. His noise started to leak and Brad playfully rolled his eyes and joked to Lloyd.

“Now, what was it I said about you getting sick by standing out there?”

Lloyd just whined in response and Brad playfully rolled his eyes. He stood up and handed his hand out to Lloyd as he smiled to him.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

You’re probably not going to see this, but as a teen that started following you for ace/aro posts, your takes on purity culture and antis have been really important to me. To be honest I haven’t cared about proship/anti discourse in years and find the terms to be reductive and oversimplifying but I’m so sick of seeing call outs in my social circles that sum up to “this person that is open about the fact they like dark content likes dark content!” Like, I thought you didn’t WANT to interact with them, why are you mad that they’ve made their beliefs clear enough for you to block?

I’d never harass someone over fake people that don’t exist but I guess I have pretty “anti” tastes- pairings between a 16 year old and an 18 year old are enough to squick me out and my current fandom has a very popular incest subculture which is. A lot. But at the same time subjects like grooming and SA/CSA recovery are very fascinating to me, and your posts have helped me shake off the guilt I have about that and fear of being seen as an abuse apologist if I write fics about those topics.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this. Just, thank you, I guess. I hope you have a good day/night/whenever you read this :)

hello, dear, i'm so glad that my blog could be helpful to you <3

i agree with you that the anti/proship terminology does kind of feel like it trivializes really important issues, but please allow me to clarify one thing - being "proship" has nothing to do with WHAT you ship and everything to do with HOW you ship. it's not about taste, it's about philosophy.

i actually have pretty vanilla tastes myself; i typically avoid most dark fic, i'm not really into kink, i don't usually like "dead dove" type content, and most of my ships are not particularly controversial. the only incest ship that doesn't gross me out is thorki, because like, they're millennia-old alien space gods based on north mythology; incest is kinda the least weird thing going on there. i have a few ships that could be called abusive, like erik/christine from the phantom of the opera, but generally speaking, my tastes are tame and i just like a good fic with some tasty angst , a little sappy smut, and a happy ending.

however, i understand that other people ARE into all the stuff i'm not into, and it's none of my business what they enjoy, and, critically, my discomfort with those works does not matter, no more than it dictates what i choose to engage in and what i choose to avoid.

my discomfort with darkfic doesn't mean people who like darkfic are immoral, or that darkfic itself is immoral. it means that i don't read darkfic. i understand that my comfort and discomfort are not the moral code of the universe, and furthermore, that a quest for "moral purity" is not only impossible, but actively harmful. a lesson i learned quite well growing up in the baptist church.

using the title of 'proshipper' doesn't mean that i personally like "problematic" ships or whatever, it means that i find harassing people over their fictional tastes reprehensible. it means that i understand that there's a big, big difference between what you enjoy reading in fiction and what you approve of or endorse in real life, and that part of the purpose of fiction is to give us a safe place to explore dark, fucked up shit where it won't have real-world consequences. fiction is an outlet, not a mirror.

even if i personally find the content deeply disturbing, i understand that it is simply none of my fucking business what other people read and write about, provided that they tag the content properly. that's being proship.

anyway, i'm glad that i could help relieve you of your guilt. take care, dear.