#I think I was possessed by dance floor beings I was told to vibe and vibe I did I don’t know how

[slerralartz]

Me out getting krunk on the dance floor after immediately causing one of my ribs to slip

(These sketches were just fun was makin the vibes, I will retreat into my no socializing corner where I do not be feeling the moves🫡)

[hellishjoel]

red

1.3k / pairing: javier peña x f!reader

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summary: Javier Peña doesn't love in black and white - he loves in red. warnings/information:  MA 18+ (minors DNI), allusions to some smutty vibes but no smut, javi in love, reader is described having hair and wears a dress and heels, but otherwise (I believe) no physical description, no use of y/n A/N: this is for the lovely @janaispunk's 1500 kisses challenge! congratulations baby <3 this is an ode to you! I was dutifully given the prompt of forehead kisses - and if anyone gives good forehead kisses (see example above) it's obviously javi. lastly thank you @saradika-graphics for the banner!

You’ve got your red dress on tonight. 

The one that paints your body in confidence and allure. Dusted in a silky, satin red. 

Javi’s never had a favorite color until now. 

Your mere presence demands attention and captures the longing gazes of all who inhabit the room you grace with your stride. You dazzle, you shine, and you’re self-assured.

Your anniversary falls on a rainy night in Bogotá. Thunder claps outside, echoing each step he takes up your apartment stairwell. He brings red roses, a fresh bouquet to honor the importance today holds. 

One year. That’s four seasons of love that Javier has never felt before. 

He wraps his rough knuckles against your door and listens patiently to your delicate steps on the other side. 

“Oh, Javi,” you breathe with a pearly smile, “they’re beautiful.” You thank him with a kiss on his stubbled cheek and he squeezes your hip in return, feeling the soft satin of your dress dancing beneath his fingertips. 

That fucking red dress. 

It transports him to a warm summer night, where the sun blazed an orange-yellow hue across the horizon. Ice-cold drinks giving him the courage to ask you for a dance. Your perfume, that smile, those eyes. Dancing in close proximity, your bodies dripping in sweat as Javi took the lead, your heels clicking across the old wood floors of the cantina. But that was many moons ago. The first dress he ever saw you in, still his favorite. 

“Anything for you, hermosa.” 

And he knows you by now. Knows to make a late dinner reservation to allow you extra time to get ready. It’s a process, you’ve told him. He sits at the edge of your bed and watches you in silent admiration. 

Your bedroom is cloaked in darkness, the only illumination coming from the candlesticks, their gentle orange flames flickering in the breeze wafting through the open balcony doors. Outside, raindrops perform a delicate dance on the metal roof, creating a mesmerizing symphony of tinny notes.

Like an angel, you float across the room. Where are your wings? Where is your halo? Maybe left long ago in that cantina where you traded them for Javi. But you’re still an angel in his eyes, the most beautiful goddess he’s ever seen, the woman he praises day and especially night. In the lap of his lover, he is never alone.

He notes how articulately you pick your accessories, bringing earrings up to your lobe and seeing how they complement the look. Maybe a necklace—no, the bracelet he bought you a few months back. He smirks at the sight, and you catch his gaze in the vanity mirror. 

Javi wonders why he showers you with gifts - maybe a hint of possession, more so that he thinks you deserve the finer things he can offer you. And you’ve always been so gracious and excited with every gift wrap you delicately tear or ribbon you untie. Money doesn’t matter compared to that million-dollar smile. 

“Javi, pick my perfume for me, will you?” 

And now, getting ready becomes a two-person job. But he likes this part; he likes dressing you up, picking your lingerie in the shops, and choosing which heels you wear. There's an undeniable allure in your reliance on him, allowing him to fulfill the role of being essential in your life. Needed. 

He chooses a sweet-scented perfume—not blossomy, more like vanilla and cinnamon—sweet enough to fit your personality, thick enough to make him drunk on you. With his eyes closed and lost in a room full of people, he could find you. And he would. 

“Heels?” He offers, already opening your closet and staring at the different colored stilettos and slingbacks. 

“Yes, please, baby.” You coo, delighting in his attentive presence as the melody of your perfume fills the air, each spritz a tender caress upon your neck, shoulders, and a playful touch in your tousled hair.

He bends down to one knee and guides your hand on his shoulder. 

You hum sweetly, nails grazing the back of his neck and gently scratching the base of his scalp. His jet-black hair is soft and thick, weaving perfectly between your fingers. 

He wasn’t always like this, so warm. He was all the things he wanted to appear as, strong and confident. But that was all an exterior façade, one that took months to slowly chip away at like a chisel to marble.

A boulder was in place of his heart, only growing larger and harder with trauma. Each painful memory, each betrayal and loss added another layer to the stone, making it more impenetrable and cold. Eventually, the weight of it threatened to crush his spirit entirely, leaving him numb and distant from the world around him.

But then you came along, chipping away at the hardened exterior with your warmth and kindness. Your presence began to erode the layers of pain and sorrow, softening the edges of the boulder. Slowly, bit by bit, you managed to reach the core of his heart, bringing light and hope where there had once been only darkness.

Javier Peña had fallen in love. 

“You’re so handsome, Javi,” you praise, “I love you.” The sentiment never grows old. You feel Javi’s head move in and gently place a kiss on the inside of your thigh, just below the hem of your dress. Goosebumps quickly sprinkle across your skin. He always has such an effect on you. 

“Estoy enloquecido por ti,” Javi purrs as he lifts your ankle and slips the heel onto your foot, careful fingers buckling the strap around your ankle. You point your toes admiringly, allowing him to work on the next heel. 

As he stands, his fingers skim up your sides and his height looms over you. His cologne melts your inhibitions, forcing a subtle sigh from cherry-lacquered lips. 

His forehead rests against yours, letting the magnetic charge between you both finally reach its peak. His nose brushes against your own, mascaraed lashes fluttering closed. 

Just as Javi moves in to place a kiss on your lips, you’re quick to gently rest a hand against his chest. The moment pauses and your eyes dance. 

“I just put my lipstick on,” You whisper and softly giggle. 

Javi breaks into a small smirk. His woman has priorities. 

The lipstick is a fantastic red, soft, and a little dangerous. It's subtle, but also not subtle at all. Like the color was made for you, a perfect shade that heightens your beauty and charisma. You’re an artist, the way you perfectly glide the lipstick across your pillow-soft lips; not a smudge or mistake is made. 

“You’re right, mi querido.” Javier reroutes his path, closes his eyes, and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. The subtle gesture is just as good as a kiss to the lips, maybe even better. It wraps around you like a warm hug and it stays there long after he’s gone. Your insides dance with a delightful flutter, a warmth cascading down your spine, enveloping you in a sensation akin to heaven itself.

You nuzzle your nose against his own and sigh peacefully, feeling Javier’s arms tighten around your waist. 

“Do you like my dress, Javi?”

He playfully hums as his fingers teasingly graze the fabric, gently squeezing the globes of your ass beneath it.

“Love it,” he damn near growls. 

You swiftly swat his wandering hands away, sensing his desire to tug at the material. If you stay in your bedroom any longer, you fear you’ll miss the standing dinner reservation you’ve had for well over a week. 

You reward him with a kiss on his neck and you distantly taste his aftershave. 

Javi adores the beautiful mark you leave on his neck, a lingering stain that refuses to be simply wiped away with a napkin and water. It remains a constant reminder of you until he showers, and he thinks about you all over again. You’re forever there, forever his. 

He stares at your figures in the mirror, wrapped up in one another.  

One kiss on his tan skin, and he’s no longer Javier Peña. He’s yours. 

Yours in red. 

[chancecity]

Fiona

“Joan Jett, save my soul.”

THE BASICS:

Gender: Cis Female

Orientation: Bisexual (but just So Closeted)

Pronouns: She/Her

Age Aprox.: Early-Thirties (Older than Rocky)

Skills: Work-Ethic, Acrobatics, Sword-Fighting/Fencing, Dance, Bass Guitar, Acting

Reviews from People in Their Life:

“Fi is an absolute killer on the dance floor; of course she’s my best friend! She’s strong, calculated… if only she weren’t so socially-inept! And I told her that, too! …She wasn’t very appreciative of that.” -Rocky, best friend/former nemesis

“I think The Fighting Cat works the hardest of any of us at the precinct. Not for no reason; she’s been working on getting promoted to Rank 1 since we joined the Hero Corps after school. She’s.. a little touchy, maybe a bit of a, uh… b-but I still wouldn’t choose anyone else to have on the field with me.” -Vince, Rank 3 coworker/on-call babysitter

“Nothing gets by her! She’ll follow an evidence trail right to the truth, and she’ll always find it! That’s why I never leave evidence.” -Stevie, aspiring detective/12 year old Daughter

“Fiona… I mean, what is there to really say? Why are you asking me, anyways? I wouldn’t say I knew her best… she’s not really the type to let you know much.” -Peter Fitz, Investigative Journalist and ex-husband

Known Locations: HCHQ (Hero Corps Headquarters, work), 2-bedroom apartment downtown, Patrolling the Streets

Basic About:

A family curse. A beast of hunger, fury, and want passed through generations. A devoured grandmother, a lost mother. A step-up that always seems just barely out of reach. Bills, a stressful divorce, and single-motherhood; and on top of it all, a job that will probably Literally be the death of her.

As a child, Fiona wanted nothing more than to make her hometown of Chance City a safer place. The Hero Corps were her way, harnessing the beast that consumed her grandmother and corrupted her mother into a form she could tame and control.

These days, Fiona is a woman who has learned to survive with a being that only wishes to devour her or the people around her, all while juggling her identity as The Fighting Cat (yes it’s a Cats reference), Rank 2 Hero and protector of Chance City, and her responsibilities as a single mother with legal debt left over from her recent divorce.

But after stringing together a few crimes labeled as being committed by several different villains, she came to the realization that each was too similar; one villain, or group of villains, had done all of them. Discovering who would certainly earn her that promotion to Rank 1, the most elite group of the Hero Corps. She wouldn’t be able to do it on her own, so she came up with the idea to recruit Rocky; a villain, yes, but one seen as less dangerous and one with the intel she would need to catch her target.

THE PHYSICAL:

Eyes: Brown, Cat-like and Tense

Hair: Black, Short and Choppy (Cuts it herself)

Height: 5’5” (7’2” during Curse Possession)

Style Favorites: 80’s Mom/Old School Butch, masc-leaning

THE VIBES:

Top Song: “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper”, Blue Öyster Cult

Voice Headcanon: Aisha Tyler (Lana, “Archer”)

Themes and Inspiration: Classic Hard Rock/Metal, Feminine Rage, living with Genetic/Terminal illness, Void, the Maternal/Filial, Misplaced Devotion, Humanity vs Inhumanity, Futility under Capitalism

PERSONALITY: Cold (seemingly), Collected, Anti-Authority, Determined, Loyal, Work-Horse mentality, Aloof, Obsessive, Heart-Over-Mind, Macabre, Exhausted, Reckless

The Curse

The Savage Beast lives within Fiona as it did her mother and grandmother, and as it still does within her own daughter. It began with her great-great-grandmother, who never shared the story of how she attached their bloodline to this monster, but through her efforts to tame and control it Fiona has learned a few things:

Containing it within a weapon seems to keep it sated, as long as that weapon finds regular use. She chose a fencing foil to try and minimize the damage.

It responds to music and physical exertion. She can use this to poke the bear, becoming more powerful through rage-music and fighting or calming the beast back to her control through her favorite songs and dance.

It comes from nothing, a void, a place where all one can do is scream into a vast emptiness before joining it.

It will be her death.

Powers: She calls it Beast Possession. Her tails are prehensile and sharp, her claws able to slice through metal, and her form one of shadow and night that can slip between the pitch black shadows of alleys and corners to transport herself somewhere else. On top of that, she becomes incredibly dexterous and light, able to duck and dodge before sending her foil into her foes chest’s, injecting them with her paralyzing venom.

[angelicallyblack]

I'm not sure how to explain this but Ana de Armas in the Deep Water trailer and most of her photo shoots has "hot young 2nd or 3rd wife" energy and it is goals. I really want to give off the same vibe with my look and the way I carry myself.

An ask after my own heart!

I watched (and re watched) that movie for her only. The way she looks and carries herself (for the most part) is everything!

One of my favorite things about Ana De Armas is that she makes shorter hair look so sexy and sultry. Contrary to popular belief, but not everyone looks better with longer hair. I love to see women sporting styles that actually suit them so don't feel obligated to wear long locks. If you've always wanted to try shorter hair, go for it! It might make you look sexier.

She wears a lot of black! Mostly sultry dresses that can be dressed up for an evening out or down for an evening in. Tasteful cleavage. Tasteful amount of leg showing. Dresses that show off her figure without being vulgar.

If she isn't wearing black, then she wears neutral tones. That's something that I noticed a lot in the movie. Lots of black or variations of brown. And when she isn't dressing like a sultry wife, she's very put together and reserved. Even her hair will be pulled back into a bun with a few fly always. Trench coats, dress pants, cardigans! But there will still be something extra. The sweater will have the sleeves pushed up or that long dress + sweater combo will be paired with sexy heels.

Her jewelry is very simple. Unless you can afford an actual Cartier love bracelet, look into an impressive dupe. Her rings are basic gold or silver bands and she's not one for gaudy jewelry. She likes for the focus to be on her clothes and body tbh.

https://youtu.be/QwC55QL3B3A

Because she likes for her clothes and body to be the focus, she keeps her makeup fairly simple too. No heavy eye shadow or contour. The makeup is very natural looking except for 2 things. Lips and lashes! Ana has gorgeous eyes and they really play with that by packing on the mascara and making sure those lashes look luscious. Buy some falsies and/or invest in a really good mascara. Rosy lip products too! I'm a sucker for a nice deep berry lip color because I think it looks great against my darker skin but it really stands out on skin like hers.

As for how you carry yourself, have confidence. That's the first key.

Melinda (Ana's character) is very confident in herself. Both in her looks and her personality. She's sure of herself and even confidently told her husband that if he were married to anyone else, he'd be bored. She knows that she's attractive in both mind and body, and she knows how to have men eating out of the palm of her hand if she desires it. Her husband was willing to give her free reign in their marriage just so they'd stay married hello!

She's bold! She has no problem being the center of attention and will happily start playing the piano or get on the dance floor if it'll bring her joy. Because she was bold, and feeling secure in her relationship with her husband, she was also bold in her "extracurricular activities" too. She felt no need to hide or feel ashamed for what she felt she was allowed to do.

She's all about experiences. Melinda had a lot of lovers and lot of culture and that was because she traveled and talked to people and tried new things. She was taking piano lessons and going to fancy clubs and trying new restaurants. She had many paramours throughout her life and we saw that they were happy to come back into her life. She was very set on living her life to the fullest.

In a nutshell, she's "untamable". She's that woman that men have to have even if for the sole purpose of trying to lock her down. I mean, that's basically what happened with her husband. Possessing her was more important to him than having her respect 💀 Who cares if she made a cuckold out of him? It's his ring on her finger 🤷🏾‍♀️

Take this advice with a grain of salt please because if you're familiar with the book, Melinda's antics is how she winded up dead!

[chronosaurusnot]

VIP boy

pairing: dom!bangchan x bratty sub!reader

genre: smut

word count: 2.1k

warnings: +18, night club, mentions of alcohol, teasing (with minho), jealousy, possessiveness, bratty behavior, explicit sexual content, bathroom sex, choking, pet names, degrading, slight humiliation, fingering, oral sex (m), rough sex, unprotected sex (stay safe please), cumming, creampie

note: so the original idea was a request from my friend about chan in a night club, but after that teaser i can't get out of my mind that scene of him choking hyunjin from behind. so, this is a mix of both things, i hope you like it!

as always, i’d like to clarify that english is not my first language, so please let me know if there are any mistakes, and feel free to give me suggestions<3

-----------

you ended up in the night club again with your friends; another night when you don’t know why you are there. it’s been a rough week, full of work and with stressful exams, so your friends insisted on getting you out to distress yourself a little bit. but between the time you’ve spent on getting ready plus all the sweaty people pushing you all around right now, you could swear you would’ve been better in your bed watching a movie or something, or even sleeping. it’s been already an hour maybe? you don’t know so you go straight to the bar to get some drink to see if time gets faster; hopefully it’ll make you less grumpy.

but when you are there, you see him on the vip section of the first floor. chan is there with his friends, talking and looking good as he always does. you start feeling like the night could maybe get a little more interesting, but when you get to see him talking with a girl that feeling changes to anger. sure, you agreed on being friends with benefits -if that was even a title or smt- so you both could be with anyone else you wanted, always respecting each other. so if he didn’t know you were there, in the same way you didn’t know he was coming too, it was okay if he wanted to be with someone else, right? but all the logic didn’t seem to care to your emotions, because you were now in a horrible mood.

you took your drink from the bar and drank it in less than a minute without taking your eyes off him and that girl. that dumb girl, she really thinks he’s hers tonight. but it’s stupid to feel like fighting over a man, so you get your mind clear and go back with your friends to tell them what you just saw to laught about it.

but when you look up again, you see chris leaning on the railing looking at you. he smiles when he notices your stare and waves at you, and after you wave back he makes gestures to let you know you can go there with them. you really wanted to play hard but you go there with your friends, following his instructions like a puppy obeys his owner.

“hey princess, you didn’t tell me you were coming” he greets you with a smile on his face. “yeah, the girls insisted on going out to destress a little bit, but i think i would have been better sleeping” you answer, trying to hide your growing excitement to see him there. “oh don’t be grumpy y/n, it’s early, we can still have a good night” he said in a cute and smirky way, an attitude that you hated and loved at the same time.

“yes i see you were already having a good time” you answer, and chris looks kinda confused. you point with your eyes to the girl he has been talking to, and he smirks at your reaction. “don’t be jealous princess, i was just talking”

you rolled your eyes at his stupid answer, and he just smiles. you hated how flirty he was and his fuck boy vibes, but there was something about him that eventually made you like him; maybe way too much. it all started as just a sex partner, but since day one you discover he was actually a super sweet, caring and fun guy, so you got really atractted to him in a matter of time. friends with benefits sounded right for both of you, but you always wanted more from him. maybe it’s his fault, cause he’s always giving you everything you want, but not only sexually; he is a pleasant man, you know he would give and do anything for his girl. and you wanted to be that girl. his only one.

and especially tonight. how could someone be so fine? he was all in black as always: black pants, black leather jacket and a black silk shirt that let you see his whole chest. “what a fucking fuck boy” you said to yourself, trying to hate him.

“what do you wanna drink, babygirl?” chan said, bringing you back from your thoughts. “your favourite one?” he continued while taking off his wallet from his pocket. you knew he was just doing it to show his hands; chan knew exactly the power his hands hold on you.

“yes, please” he smiles at your answer and goes to the bar for your drink.

but as soon as he goes, minho comes to you. “come on change that shitty face and dance a little y/n” he says while grabbing you from your arms to force you to dance with him. he takes you maybe way too closer to his body considering he is chris’s friend. but you think to yourself that maybe it’s a good idea; using this to get chan’s attention, to look at you, to make him jealous, and taking advantage to dance with a man so fine like minho. you wouldn’t be with him, sure, he is his friend; but it would be nice to at least flirt with him a little bit.

you sincerely got lost while dancing with him, so close to each other; till you notice chan looking at you both while leaning on the railing with the two cups on his hands. he looks at you in a challenging way, like wanting to see how far you can go.

and you accept the challenge, getting minho even closer to your body without cutting the eye contact with chris; you can see how his eyes turned darker, and you just smirk at his reaction. you dance a couple more minutes with minho, his hands on your waist, yours on his neck; after deciding it was enough teasing, you go back to chan playing the innocent. “he was helping me to cut out the bad mood, he’s so sweet. thank you for the drink channie”

“yeah i see, you should hang out with him.” he answers, his look darker; you prouder. “oh you think so? i mean, he seems to want to help me out to not be bored.” you answer, loving to see how your dumb plan worked.

“oh you just want to have fun, mh?” he says in a dark way, making you feel nervous and taking a big sip from your drink. “i know a place when you could have fun”.

you finished your drink in a couple of seconds, so he just takes your cup away from your hand. “why don’t you follow me, princess?”

he lefts the cups in the table, and takes you by the hand to guide you through the place. he talked to you calmly, but you knew he wasn’t not only because of the way he looked at you, but also cause he was holding you rough.

“get in, princess” chris says, letting you place to came in the bathroom. you get shocked; is a public space, but you are feeling so aroused with this situation that you just got in. chan locks the door behind you and turns you around to put you against it, resting his hand above you.

“you’ve been such a bratty, babygirl” he says, using his free hand to caress your cheek, slowly moving down to your neck. “if you were just bored, you should have told me instead of acting like a slut with my friend” chan continues while adding pressure on your neck, making you shut your legs from the feeling. he notices it and smirks in a mocking way. “are you already turned on, y/n? are you that desperate?”

he keeps on adding pressure, driving you crazy. you felt your panties getting wetter as every second passed by. so you decided to keep pushing his limits. “you’re not the only one who pays attention to me, chris. you should try better” his smile turns devilish.

“do you want me to remind you how good i fuck you, y/n?” he keeps choking you, but uses his other hand to touch you under your skirt. “do you want me to remind you whose name you repeat endless times while moaning?” he moves your panties to a side and start touching your pussy while still choking you, making you moan at the feeling of his cold hands rubbing against your clit. he laughs mockingly again at your desperate face.

“did you get this wet while dancing with minho? do you prefer his fingers over mine?” he never desease the smirk on his face, his nose touching yours and the feeling of his heavy breathing so close to you while you were cutted out of air made you go crazy. but you let out a moan after he gets two fingers inside you, making him laugh again.

“tell me, princess. tell me whose are you” you wanna answer, but he curls his fingers inside you while increasing his pace and makes you even harder to breathe. “i’m yours” you answer, and he takes his fingers out of you to put them in your mouth. you suck them instinctively, keeping eye contact with him, seeing the arousal in his eyes.

“you’re mine, y/n. no one else” you keep sucking on his fingers while his other hand finally moves from your neck to your waist, getting you closer to him. he softly moans at the feeling of his hardened dick rubbing against your hot core. “you are my baby slut, and the only one i want to please”

that was everything you needed to hear for being now completely at his will. the only thing you wanted was to be his only girl, the only one who he pleases, the only one who pleased him. you were feeling more desperate than ever now, getting crazier at the way he was rubbing his bulge against you in such a needy way, with both of his hands now on your hips, guiding you to make the touch rougher.

you remove his jacket and your eyes travel all over his chest, revealed by the thin silk. one of your hands caresses his chest, shoulders and neck, while the other one unzips his pants to get his cock out, making him moan louder at the feeling of your skin. “let me please you too, chris” you tell him in a whiny voice that makes him shiver.

you kneeled before him, and as soon as your lips touched the tip of his cock he rested both of his hands on the door that was behind you, moving his head backwards between deep groans.

“you’re such a pretty slut for me, y/n” he says and you speed up your pace. he starts to feel uncomfortable in any position, battling his urge to cum only to have you sucking on his dick for a longer time.

just when you feel his precum in your mouth he lifts you up, getting his eyes teary due to the denied orgasm. “turn around, princess. i’m not over yet”.

chan pushes your body against the door, guiding your ass close to him and lifting your skirt. he kisses your neck before pulling his cock inside you, making you both moan at the feeling of your stretched and wet pussy. “tell me who can fuck you this good, y/n?” he says while keeping a painful fast speed, tears forming in your eyes from the intense excitement.

“are you still thinking in minho, mh?” he says while he chokes you from behind, the other hand guiding your hips to move on his cock even harder. “tell me again, babygirl, who do you belong to?”

the feeling of his fast and hard pace, his hand holding you hard from your hips, his other hand cutting your air, his heavy breathing on your neck, his possessiveness, his moans; everything was making you feel extremely sensitive, desperate for a release of the tension that’s been building up. “you, o-only to you” you cried out in a broken voice.

his now clumsy moves showed you he was close too, getting weak to your submission. “only mine, y/n. f-fuck.” his last words whispered in your ear made you hit your orgasm. the feeling of your release all over his cock made him cum inside you, groaning your name in a completely fucked up way.

after a moment to catch up your breaths, he turned you back, facing you with a relaxed smile. “you’re still my girl after this, y/n. and i’ll always please my girl.”

[the-queen-of-hell-666]

Going To The Chapel And He’s Going To Get Married Leaving Her Heart Broken

Pairing: Stepdad!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Words: 1.8k

Summary: Bucky got married to her mother and the Reader realizes something that changes how she looks at him. 

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal sex, oral sex (f! receiving), blindfolding, face riding, handjob, light dom/sub vibes), possessive reader, a bit of angst

a/n: 18+!!!! SMUT!!!! NO MINORS!!!! I wrote this in like two hours because I really wanted to add a new update for this fic. I couldn’t stop thinking about how this would play out. I had so many ideas but I finally narrowed it down to one. So I really hope you like this fic!!!

You hoped that Bucky wouldn’t go through with it. You hoped after the shared nights you two spent was enough to have him call the whole thing off. Boy, were you wrong. He went through with it. The son of a bitch married your mother and you had to sit there with a fake smile on your face. 

It was the day of Bucky and your mother’s wedding. Your mother woke you up at an absurd time and dragged you into the car. You were crammed into the backseat with your aunt, Jessica, and Bucky’s sister, Rebecca. Your mother drove you guys to the hotel the wedding was being held at. 

It was a beachside resort, and they were having the ceremony on the beach. Yeah, your mother was using Bucky’s money to hold your dream wedding.

Your dream wedding was a beachside wedding, with a man exactly like Bucky. You dreamed about it since you were nine. You always dreamed of marrying a tall and handsome man and running into the sunset. Happily ever after. Well, life kinda fucked that up.

So there you sat at the front in a white wooden chair. You watched your mother walked down the aisle in a big white dress. It took everything in you to not let the tears fall as you locked eyes with Bucky. It was only for a second but it was enough to make you sad. 

Your mother stood in front of Bucky as they said their vows. Then they kissed and god, your heart shattered. Everyone cheered and clapped, you gave a small sad smile to Bucky. He looked at you with guilt filling his face as he watched the one tear fall down your face. You quickly wiped it away and clapped. 

During the reception, you downed flute after flute of champagne even took a few shots of tequila. Anything alcoholic went down your throat, but after five years of college, you could handle your liquor. You weren’t even buzzed. Damn, your mother for not having the strong stuff at her wedding. 

You had a glass of merlot in your hand as your mother and her new husband came up to you. Your mother hugged you and kissed you on the cheek, and Bucky gave you a hug and you placed a fast kiss on his cheek. 

“How are you enjoying the wedding?” Your mother asked, and you placed a fake smile on your face.

“It’s beautiful, mom. I loved the beachside ceremony.” You said and took a small sip of your wine. 

“I’m glad.” She smiled, and Bucky nodded. Then their song came on. Your mother grabbed Bucky’s hand and pulled him towards the dance floor. 

You gripped your wine glass tight as you watched them dance. You walked over to the small bar and grabbed the bottle of merlot and chugged it down. The people at the bar looked at me weird but I didn’t care. I finished off the bottle and set the empty glass bottle on the bar surface. Still, you weren’t fazed.

“Fuck.” You muttered and walked away from the bar. You were sitting at your table when Bucky approached you. He held his hand out to you.

“Do you wanna dance?” He asked, knowing that if your mother saw you dancing with him, she wouldn’t think anything about it. 

“Sure.” You faked smiled, and he pulled you to your feet. You two walked out to the dance floor. You placed your hands on his shoulders and he placed his hands on your waist, as you two swayed to the music. 

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, and you looked up into his blue eyes. 

“Why’d you go through with it?” You asked, and his eyes darted away from yours and to the side. 

“I don’t know.” He sighed, and you couldn’t help but dig your manicured nails into his shoulders. He stifled a groan and looked at you confused. “Why do you care so much. We were just a fling.” He stated, and you scoffed and pulled away from his arms. 

You stormed off and found your mother. You told her that you were heading to your room because you were tired. She smiled and nodded and told you to get some sleep. 

You took the lift up to your room and walked in. You slammed the door shut. You fell on the bed with a huff. 

He had a good point. Why were you mad? It was a fling. Of course, you didn’t mean anything to him. It shouldn’t have meant anything to you. Why did it though? Then it hit you like a fucking freight train. You were in love with your mother’s new husband.

You sat up on the bed as a tear fell down your face. You quickly wiped it away and started pacing the length of the room. You were in love with Bucky. Are you fucking kidding? You took a large sigh and ran a hand through your hair.

You were knocked out of your thoughts when someone knocked on your door. You knew who it was so you ignored it. You sat on the edge of the bed waiting for him to leave. 

“Y/n, I know you’re in there. Please let me in.” Bucky said through the door. You huffed and walked up to the door. You opened the door to reveal Bucky still in his tux and breathing heavily. 

“Did you run up five flights of stairs?” You asked, and he had a crooked smile on his face. 

“The elevator was taking too long.” He shrugged, and damn, he looked so cute. With that stupid smile and his hair never looked fluffier. 

“Oh, fuck it.” You mumbled, and grabbed him by his tie and smashed his lips on yours. You pulled him into your room. You pulled back from the kiss to close and lock the door. You then pinned him to the door and jumped on him. You captured his lips in another kiss, he caught you by the backs of your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

“You that needy, sweets?” He asked mockingly, and you yanked his head back by his hair and nipped and sucked on his neck.

“Watch it, baby.” You growled against his skin, and he quietly moaned as you tightened your grip on his hair. “You think it’s easy watching you walk around in that damn suit. Playing house with my mother. You aren’t hers.” You sucked a hickey on his collarbone. “You’re mine.” You growled in his ear, and he moaned. “Bed. Now.” 

He carried you to the plush bed in the middle of the room. He sat on the edge with you still in his lap. You ground your panty-covered pussy into the bulge growing in his slacks. You untied his tie and used it to tie it around his eyes to blindfold him. You pushed him back and his back hit the mattress. He laid in the middle of the bed and you hiked your dress up.

“What are you doing, sweets?” He asked as he felt you slide up his chest. 

“You are going to eat me out, baby boy.” You purred as you pulled your panties off. You straddled his face backward and immediately he dived into your folds. He sucked your clit in his mouth and nipped on it. You moaned and ground your cunt on his tongue. He thrusted his tongue in your sopping hole, his tongue licking along your walls.

He moaned against your pussy as you rubbed his bulge. You unzipped his slacks and pulled his cock out. You stroked his shaft up and down swiping the pre-cum off the slit. He groaned in your folds as he continued his assault on your clit. 

“Oh, god!” He moaned in your pussy, and you smirked then moaned, as he sucked your clit in his mouth. You licked the palm of your hand and stroked him up and down.

“God, you eat me out so good!” You moaned as he stroked the inside of your pussy with his tongue. You thumbed under the crown of his cock and he cried out in your folds, and that sent you over the edge. You writhed above him as your orgasm washed over you. He continued to eat you out to prolong your orgasm. Once you came down from your high you removed your pussy from his face and turned around to face him. You laid over him then removed the blindfold. 

“That was new.” He said, with a smirk and you leaned down and kissed him. You reached back and lined his cock up to your entrance and sunk down. You two moaned in unison as your walls fluttered around his length. 

“Fuck, baby. You stretch me so good.” You moaned, and he bucked his hips up. You started riding him hard and fast trying to reach your second climax. His hands gripped your ass as you rode him. He captured your lips in a searing kiss. He groaned in the kiss when you clenched around him. The head of his cock slammed into your g-spot every time his hips met yours. 

“God, I forgot how tight you are.” He groaned, and he smacked one of your asscheeks. You squealed in delight loving the sting that came with the smack. He smacked your ass again as his cock hit your g-spot and you went hurtling over the edge. You cried out his name in his kiss. 

He hit his high when he felt your walls flutter around his cock. He filled you up with his hot cum as he fucked up into your harder. He fucked you into another orgasm and you started squirting on his chest. Soaking his dress shirt. You slumped against his chest. You took a minute to collect yourself before climbing off of him. You walked over to where your panties were and picked them up. You looked at Bucky who was still breathing heavily on the bed. 

“You okay?” You asked as you leaned on the desk across from the bed. He sat up and tucked himself back into his slacks.

“Yeah, yeah. Better than okay.” He nodded, and you smiled walked up, and kissed him as you tucked your panties into his suit jacket pocket. 

“Something borrowed.” You winked, and then pulled back. “You better get back down there before my mother comes looking for you.” You shrugged, and he looked a bit disappointed but shook it off. 

“Yeah, right. I’ll see you around.” He smiled and then walked out. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You flopped on the bed extremely aware of the throb in your heart. Good job, you just broke your own heart.

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@honeyel @greeneyedblondie44​ 

[officialsporkintheroad]

Oooh Gin n Tonic for the soulmate ficlet!

(Author’s Note: OKAY so this one got away from me--it’s almost 3k words. It’s a little darker/sadder than I thought it would be--I started off with Power Couple vibes, and then it became canon compliant, so obvi that didn’t quite happen. Ginny’s still a bad bitch tho. Thanks for the prompt and I hope you like <3)

SEND ME A HARRY POTTER RARE-PAIR FOR SOULMATE AU FICLET

TW: brief & mild self-harm, depression, off-screen attempted murder, minor character death

**********

Here’s the thing.

By the time Ginevra Weasley is born, there are six other Weasley children already. It’s hard enough to distinguish yourself when you’re poor, when your family name is synonymous with Blood Traitors in some circles and Pity in others, when everything you own is second-hand and handed-down and usedbrokendirty. It’s even harder knowing half her siblings will make a name for themselves before she’s even out of nappies.

Bill is the most talented. Charlie, the most fearless. Percy is the smartest. The twins are funny and inventive to a degree that’s nearly unbeatable. Even Ron is the best at chess, the best at strategy.

What’s left for me, she wonders.

But when she’s old enough to understand soulmarks, old enough to read them, she realizes that magic herself has marked her as different. Nobody in her family two sets of words the way she does.

 ********** 

Here’s the thing.

Tom Riddle is born to nothing but the name falling from his dying mother’s lips, but even in a sea of orphans, he is extraordinary. First, because he is a pretty child. Then because is so very bright. And later—though not much later, because as noted, he is extraordinary—because of his magic.

And because, unlike the other children at Wool’s, there is a string of words winding around his wrist in narrow script that read, “I wish someone would see me instead of my family.”

Soulmarks. That’s what Professor Dumbledore calls them when he visits, when he explains magic and Hogwarts and the words his soulmate will one day say to him.

“Someone made just for me,” Tom mutters under his breath, enchanted by the idea. Someone who will understand him wholly and completely, who will be his entirely—

“Well,” Dumbledore says, and he has a strange, cold look in his steely eyes. “Not all soulmates work out.”

Tom gets the impression Dumbledore might not like him very much, and that’s before the man sets his wardrobe on fire.

Still, before Dumbledore leaves, Tom asks one more question.

“Sir. Do people only have one soulmate?”

Dumbledore pauses, assesses Tom. “Almost always.”

Tom nods quietly and lets the old man leave.

(There’s a second set of words in a more elegant script above Tom’s left hip that read, “It’s always you, isn’t it?” Another sign that he’s more than the wizards around him—two soulmarks instead of the usual one—but Tom doesn’t tell anyone about them. Not yet.)

 ********** 

When Ginny meets Harry Potter—for only a split second just outside platform 9 ¾ —she hopes it will be him. Probably lots of people hope Harry Potter will speak their words; he’s a hero and he has the prettiest green eyes and the nicest smile. He doesn’t speak to her then, and she’s too shy to say anything, and that means there’s still a chance.

Still a chance when Harry Potter comes to visit the next summer.

But of course, then he waves and says a cheery, “Hello!”

Ginny freezes, turns and all but runs back up the stairs. Neither of her marks is a simple, “Hello.”

For the next few days, weeks, she wallows a bit in her disappointment. Harry Potter is not her soulmate.

The excitement of Hogwarts dulls the hurt of her doomed crush, though, right up until she puts on the sorting hat and it says, “Another Weasley.”

And in the Gryffindor girls’ dorms late that night, having unpacked and found a strange, blank diary that she doesn’t remember buying, Ginny writes down the thought that’s been plaguing her practically from the moment she was born.

“I wish someone would see me instead of my family.”

She doesn’t expect the book to write back.

“I see you.”

She stares at the words, the pretty, delicate script, for only a moment, and then she’s running to the bathroom, wrenching her nightgown down off her shoulder because even though she’s looked every day since she learned to read, she has to be sure.

“Those are my words,” she whispers to herself, vaguely aware she’s nearly hyperventilating. She all but runs back to the book—her soulmate is a book?—and writes more.

“I’m Ginevra Weasley, though I go by Ginny. Who are you?”

 ********** 

When Tom Riddle is 16 and overconfident and proud and desperate to prove himself, he opens the Chamber of Secrets and inadvertently kills Myrtle Warren.

Waste not, want not, he thinks. The girl’s death might have been a bit of an accident—he’d planned to kill someone, if not her specifically, and perhaps not right now—but that won’t matter for the ritual he has planned.

When he makes his first horcrux, he feels as though he’s being split apart. The agony is blinding, burning. But eventually it fades and he hauls himself up, dusts himself off, and sneaks back into the Slytherin dormitories.

It’s only the next morning that he realizes the soulmark on his wrist is gone. Not burned off. Not faded to gray the way they do when your soulmate has died. It’s as if it never existed.

(The one on his hip remains unchanged.)

Ultimately, he decides, it’s of little consequence. Soulmates are a childish fancy that had appealed to him when he was an orphan nobody. Now, Lord Voldemort is on the horizon—a grander image for himself that will elevate him beyond the paltry frivolities of mortal men.

He doesn’t linger on this loss, or what it might mean for his soul.

********** 

Ginny wakes up on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets, soaked to the bone in filthy water, Harry Potter bleeding profusely beside her. The diary—Tom—is on the floor, a huge hole gaping on the front cover.

He tried to kill me, Ginny realizes, a sick feeling in her stomach. Tom had possessed her for months, had made her kill chickens and set the basilisk on muggleborns, had dragged her down to the Chamber so he could suck the life out of her. And now he’s dead.

At first, there’s nothing but the relief of surviving, tinged with bitterness and a vile, betrayed feeling in her gut. The idea of telling anyone that her soulmate was Tom—was Voldemort, as it turns out—makes her throw up. And then, of course, it occurs to her that no one has to know.

It would be better if no one knew.

She keeps that tidbit to herself, even with the anger and the grief. Everyone attributes her moods to the fact that she nearly died, but eventually they stop worrying so much. Eventually they leave her alone.

The mark on her shoulder—“I see you.”—once black, now has faded to a pale gray. So light it’s nearly invisible to anyone else.

The other mark is fine.

********** 

Ginny throws herself into her life with the energy of a person who knows what it means to die. Where she was quiet and shy before—always overwhelmed and overshadowed by her siblings—she’s now loud and bright and fearless. If Tom has taught her anything, it’s that nobody else is going to come along and make her great. That’s something she’s going to have to do for herself.

So she tries. She makes friends with Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom. She studies hard, makes sure she answers questions in class. She goes to the tri-wizard ball her third year with a nice boy named Michael Corner who is not her soulmate. She dances and she has fun and he doesn’t try to kill her, so it’s a win.

She thinks she might finally be getting the hang of things.

Of course, that’s when Voldemort resurrects himself.

Harry lands in the stadium, sobbing and clinging to Cedric Diggory’s body, and suddenly the sick feeling from the Chamber is back.

 **********

Cedric Diggory was Harry Potter’s soulmate.

Ginny learns this late at night at Grimmauld Place because dreams of the Chamber and Tom are keeping her awake and when she goes to make a cup of tea, she finds Harry at the table, staring blankly in the dark.

The clock reads 2 a.m.

“I barely got to know him, and he’s gone,” Harry says, voice ragged from crying. “And it’s my fault—”

“It’s Tom’s fault,” Ginny snaps. Not her Tom, really, but they’re the same enough. Both murderers and jackasses as far as she’s concerned.

Harry looks up at her, wide green eyes, and she realizes that no one else has told him he’s not to blame. Not for Voldemort coming back, or for Cedric dying. She wonders if anyone else even knows that they were soulmates.

Maybe that’s what prompts her to tell him.

“Tom was mine.” The words taste like ash, scrape up her throat and leave her feeling raw. “The diary. He was my soulmate.”

She shows him the grayed-out words on her shoulder.

“Fuck,” Harry chokes out eventually. “That’s…”

There really aren’t words for this.

“It’s all fucked,” she agrees.

Her tea is scalding and soothing and not nearly enough. But she’s been here for months; she knows where Sirius has been hiding the good stuff from her mom. She reaches into the false bottom of the china cabinet, pulls out a bottle of Ogdens, and pours a shot into her tea.

Harry raises a brow, but she just shrugs.

“I think we’ve earned it, don’t you?”

He takes the shot she pours for him, and there’s a silent promise that they won’t talk about this. Not with anyone else.

**********

She shouldn’t have come here.

That’s what she thinks, standing in the Department of Mysteries, in the Hall of Prophecies. One moment, they’re looking for Sirius, and then Lucius fucking Malfoy is there, and Bellatrix Lestrange, and a handful of other Death Eaters, and Ginny knows they’ve stumbled into a trap they’re not getting out of unscathed.

Harry was holding the prophecy, but sometime between him taunting Malfoy and when they all send out a simultaneous stupefy, she feels him slide it into her pocket. It takes less than a second for her to understand. They’ll think Harry has it, and even when it inevitably comes out that he doesn’t, Ron and Hermione will be the next obvious choices. Ginny is unexpected; Ginny can keep it safe.

They scatter, each one of them running in a different direction. Ginny’s dodging spells left and right, tossing hexes over her shoulder. She’s always had a fair amount of power, but the DA has honed her skills in a way they never were before. She lands more hits than she expects, hears the belligerent cursing of the man behind her when a well-placed diffindo makes him stumble. She can’t look back and see the damage herself—that would be stupid and she can’t afford to give up her meager lead—but she tosses a reducto and listens as the walls collapse.

She has three seconds to be proud of herself before it all goes to shit.

Somehow they all end up back in the same room—a strange one with a pale, shimmering archway standing in the middle—and then they’re surrounded: Death Eaters on all sides.

Voldemort himself strides forward from the darkness. He’s tall and pale and snake-like, but those movements, that grace, are all Tom.

The room is too cool and dark and for a moment, she’s back in the Chamber, she’s fading, she’s dying, she’s staring up at Tom’s face, twisted into a mocking, cruel smile that she’ll never forget as long as she lives.

“Harry Potter,” Voldemort says, breaking her out of her memory. “And I see you’ve brought your useless friends.”

There’s a split second of nothing, and then Harry’s clutching at his scar, screaming. Ginny is distantly aware of Ron helping to catch him, but she won’t be distracted now. She keeps her wand level, steady, and aimed at Voldemort.

That’s why she sees when his gaze shifts to her: red and piercing and horrid.

“Don’t be stupid, girl. Give it here,” he says, words half-hissed, and he holds out his hand for the prophecy.

She stares at him. Stares, and then laughs. It’s something manic and bitter and this is not the time, but she can’t help it. Fuck.

Because those are her other words, the ones etched across her ribcage.

(When she was younger—before the Chamber incident—she’d never liked these words as well as the other set. Her soulmate was calling her stupid, for one thing, and seemed demanding to boot. After Tom and the basilisk and nearly dying, she’d looked at these words with the last shred of hope she had left. She’d hoped, first impressions aside, that maybe this person would be the one to love her. Maybe this person she’d be allowed to keep.)

What a fucking joke.

“It’s always you, isn’t it?” she spits and has the joy of watching Lord Voldemort freeze on the spot.

She has managed to strike him speechless. It’s almost enough of an advantage.

But in the end—Ginny is starting to think some things are inevitable—Voldemort and his Death Eaters rally, the Order of the Phoenix shows up to save the day, the prophecy shatters, Sirius dies.

********** 

Back in the safety of Hogwarts, of the Hospital Wing, Ginny puts her fist through a mirror.

Then she takes one of the shards to the words on her ribcage, tries to scrape them off.

Madam Pomfrey has to stop her, has to restrain her to the bed while she heals the bleeding wound.

The mark stays. It’s magic, her soulmark; it goes deeper than the skin.

*********** 

Voldemort sits in his study in Malfoy Manor.

The prophecy is destroyed. Harry Potter has escaped. The Minister, idiot that he is, won’t be able to deny Voldemort’s presence now that he’s seen him firsthand.

It has been a shite evening, in short.

Then there is the matter of his soulmate. Ginevra Weasley.

“It’s always you, isn’t it?”

Even his new body, freshly formed out of the cauldron, had borne those words. The ones that, no matter how many horcruxes he’d made, had stayed firmly printed above his hip. Years ago, he’d thought they would disappear when he made the ring, then the cup, the locket. He’d wondered why he lost those first words but not the second set.

Now, of course, it all makes sense.

Well. He’s still not quite sure why magic has deemed some scrawny, red-haired chit deserving of Lord Voldemort.

Draco Malfoy is a well of information. Largely useless information, granted, but information all the same.

She’s a quidditch player, apparently, and—according to Draco—nearly as good a seeker as Potter. She’s got a mean bat-bogey hex and a short temper, but on the whole, she’s a year below Malfoy, so he doesn’t know much.

“Oh, but—” and here the boy pauses, pales, and swallows nervously “—she was…uh…the one who nearly died. In…in the Chamber of Secrets.”

Draco looks like he’s worried Voldemort will curse him for that, but really he’d gotten all—okay, most—of his frustration over that spectacular disaster over with when he’d first heard Lucius had given away his fucking diary.

But he didn’t know Ginevra was the one his horcrux had almost killed.

My horcrux that took my first soulmark, he thinks, and something in the back of his brain clicks.

“It’s always you, isn’t it?” she had said. Always. Because they’d met before.

She was both his marks.

********** 

“I had—have—a second mark,” she tells Harry, because he obviously knows something is up. They’re sitting together up at the astronomy tower. It’s one of those nights where the dreams creep in and she wishes she had the memory of Gryffindor’s sword in her hands. She wishes she’d been the one to kill Tom all those years ago. Wishes she could kill Voldemort now.

But that, apparently, is Harry’s job.

Despite the fact that she’s pretty sure he’s already guessed the truth, and despite the fact that she knows he won’t judge her for it—he didn’t judge her for Tom, he won’t judge her now—she can’t stand to say it aloud.

She shows him the words on her side instead.

Don’t be stupid, girl. Give it here.

“I…I tried to get rid of them,” she whispers into the night when the silence stretches too long. “Why is it him?”

Harry wraps her in a hug that’s just shy of smothering.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I’m so fucking sorry.”

**********

Dumbledore is dead. It’s only a matter of time before the ministry falls. Lord Voldemort is more powerful now than he’s ever been.

He can’t stop looking at his soulmark.

It is ridiculous, he tries to tell himself. Lord Voldemort has no use for a soulmate, no want for one either. And certainly not one that’s a mudblood-loving bint fighting for the enemy.

He should kill her and be done with it. It’s not as though he can just leave her be.

But.

But for all that Voldemort has remade himself into something near-godly, there is still an orphan boy somewhere inside of him that used to steal the things he coveted, that used to collect what little treasures could be found in Wool’s and keep them close.

Once, he saw his soulmarks and thought, There is someone made to be mine.

And that?

That’s a temptation he cannot quite pass up.

[neist]

TUA Season 2 rambling

This turned out really long, but I had to get this out.

So, rant or at least mental splurge required, I think, to try and get my head straight. About a fucking telly show that somehow matters more to me than real life right now. Because I don’t actually have a LIFE and instead live through the characters I vibe with. Which means it truly fucks me up, to the point of fighting back tears for days, even weeks, and being unable to function as anything remotely comparable to an actual human adult when THEY get fucked up.

Case in point, Ben and Klaus Hargreeves. I was LOVING season 2 for the first 6 eps. I was laughing with it, and engrossed in it, and having warm fuzzies about the sibling interactions, and Vanya and Sissy, and loving Vanya being so caring of Harlan and actually getting to have feelings other than anger and misery for once. Mr Chestnut? Yes, please- wonderful man and an absolute joy to watch him and Allison (the perfect woman). Civil rights movement? Awe inspiring and terrifying and horrific to think of what these people went through. Lila? Honestly, I really liked her, and enjoyed her scenes with Diego- I even continued to enjoy her character right through the whole Mother Gethel arc- after all, if we can see past the Hargreeves’ faults, directly resulting from them being raised by an emotionless, abusive, manipulative monster, surely Lila deserves the same consideration? She’s fucked up, and selfish, and doesn’t know how to relate to people except on a frivolous or murderous basis, but she was taking baby steps towards being better because she honestly loves Diego. Yes, it’s a selfish love, but he opened her eyes to actually thinking about someone else for the first time in her life, and you could see her actually starting to think about that.

Luther and Diego bonding and treating each other like human beings- yes. Luther and Five showing respect and concern for each other- I’ll have even more of that, please. Allison and Klaus hugging and laughing and drinking and dancing and just being tender and thoughtful towards each other- hell yes, especially when Vanya gets invited in like she always should have been.

Ben and Klaus snarking at each other and having a slap fight in the middle of a dusty road? Totally on brand and in character and funny as hell. That’s what siblings do (I know, I’m a middle child with NOTHING in common with my older sister)- we snark, and snipe and delight in watching them lose face. We give them that good old slap they’re sooo asking for, and have a good laugh about it when they realise, OK, yes, they really WERE being a dick. But as infuriating as they may be we still love them. We might trip them on their face out of spite, but there are limits to how much we can hurt them before the glee wears off and we rush to reassure and comfort them. And that’s where this season really let me down. It’s like Klaus and Ben are out to actually rip each other’s guts out. It’s not just brotherly ribbing, or even spiteful jibes, it’s not even just “done with your shit” apathy. Klaus telling their siblings that Ben isn’t there could be an amusing payback for Ben’s earlier shit with the poker game and with Dave, if it was just a temporary thing. But to cut off Ben’s only hope of interacting with his family, who only recently realised he was even still around, smirking all the while and with no intention of relenting, is a really nasty abuse of power. It’s purposefully hurtful and completely out of proportion. Yes, I know Klaus is a selfish ass, but he’s always been compassionate, and that seems to have completely gone, at least in relation to Ben.

And then there’s the possession. We knew it was coming, thankfully- that coming out of the blue would have just floored me. Yep, Klaus is still being an asshole, no doubt about it- here’s a perfect opportunity to relent and do the right thing and he’s still ignoring Ben and making out that he doesn’t exist despite his clear desperation to just talk to his family, to be acknowledged. Ben has every right to be thoroughly pissed and even spiteful, and I actually have some sympathy with him impulsively taking Klaus over- we can all make stupid decisions in the heat of the moment. But afterwards there’s not a shred of remorse for LITERALLY forcing himself on his brother, taking over his body and denying him his own bodily autonomy. Ben’s positively gleeful at tormenting Klaus with the knowledge that he fully intends to do it again as soon as Klaus is unable to stop him. It’s like the creep at the club who’s been touching your ass all night trapping you alone in the bathroom and gloating about what he’s going to do to you as soon as the club inevitably closes. And it’s played off as COMEDY. I can’t actually articulate just how vile I found that scene of Klaus’s head drooping, and every time he, panicked, jerked awake Ben, all smug and predatory, was a step closer, ready to pounce. What the hell? That was even worse than Ben’s refusal to let Klaus go later on- it showed Ben’s utter disregard for the fact that Klaus REALLY DIDN’T WANT THIS, was in fact fucking terrified of it, and not only did Ben not care about that, he was ENJOYING taunting Klaus with the inevitability of the violation.

I’ve read a few discussions of how Ben, even in season 1, was shown to feel some entitlement to Klaus’s body and life, and though I didn’t see it myself first time through I can see hints of that on rewatching. I guess it shouldn’t be a shock that Ben followed through on that. I just can’t get my head around the same person who understood, and empathised with, Klaus going back to the mausoleum in his head when he was being held and tortured, being so utterly callous towards him in season 2. Even with the provocation of Klaus being a dick, presumably for three whole years, how does the same person who was, just hours later, so caring and warm and self sacrificing towards Vanya, maliciously taunt their brother with the promise of mentally violating him?

I don’t get it, I really don’t. Like I said, I have nothing in common with my sister, and in years gone by we each would have delighted in each other’s pain, and yes, frequently would have caused it. But she’s still my SISTER and I would kill for her if necessary, and I know I can turn to her for anything. If I’m completely honest with myself she’s hurt me more in my life, caused more long term damage during our childhoods than I think even my parents did, but as an adult I’ve still been able to turn to her when I’ve needed her- when I’ve been overwhelmed by depression and unable to trust myself with so much as a butter knife she was the person I called and ended up staying with for days. Maybe that’s what’s bothering me so much about this- after years of making each other’s lives hell as kids we still love each other and will be there, but this is making me feel like I’ve called her for help in a crisis, and she’s just handed me a carving knife and told me “OK, get on with it then.”

And then, as if that wasn’t all enough, while I’m trying to come to terms with these asshole brothers cutting each other to the bone with apparent glee, Ben takes one fleeting glance back at Klaus before sinking into Vanya, showing her so much kindness, understanding and just plain LOVE, being the warmest, more caring brother and making me bubble at the tenderness and love between the two. Right then, when I’m at my most emotionally connected and vulnerable, and wishing he and Klaus could show each other an ounce of that empathy and consideration, right then is when he starts to fragment, and I KNOW the makers intended for us all to fragment right along with him, but it’s been three fucking days and I can’t stop crying. I mean that literally. I can’t work, I can’t clean or cook, I don’t even want to eat, I can’t concentrate on anything without that damn scene playing out again and I just want to scream, especially thinking about damn Sparrow Ben and his snarky emo face, ‘cos that’s not Ben and I feel like one of my best friends has just died, only I’m not allowed to mourn ‘cos it’s a fucking TV character and how stupid and pathetic can a person be to get this upset about a character dying on a TV show, but I’m sorry I don’t have a fucking life and this feels real to me, and I hate it.

[jewish-privilege]

What is a home?

In Jewish history, with its centuries of wandering and ritualized longing for a land most never actually saw, circumstances created not so straightforward answers to this question. For the creators of modern-day Israel, the answer was to be found in a state.

But for some Jewish refugees that arrived in this new place, it did not feel like a home, either.

“Our great-grandmother came to Israel only to be put in a tiny, crowded shack in the desert,” says Tair Haim of A-Wa.

The Tel Aviv-based band A-Wa, comprised of three sisters that fuse Yemenite folk with hip-hop and electronic music, frames its answer around what the sisters’ great-grandmother Rachel, a refugee from Yemen, said about the question of home: “bayti fi rasi” – my home is in my head.

A-Wa’s new concept album, Baiti Fi Rasi, released on May 31st, shares many of the stories they heard as little girls of Rachel, a single mother facing hardship in Yemen as a Jew, a woman — and after she arrived in Israel during Operation Magic Carpet, as an Arabic-speaking Yemenite refugee. As children in the Arava Valley, Tair, Tagel, and Liron Haim would “milk from” their elders the spicy food, the henna and those limb-turning folk tunes of Yemen they had been encouraged to leave in the past. Though they never met her, Rachel became a guiding force in the sisters becoming proud, Jewish Yemenite women.

A single mother and feminist long before the term came in vogue, Rachel never found in her wandering a place she could call home, even after she came to Israel a refugee. But she cried out for “ya watani,” my homeland: Yemen. In spite of her suffering there, it was the sights, the sounds, the smells of Yemen that signaled home for her.

After their 2016 debut album, Habib Galbi, the A-Wa sisters travelled the world, encountering Syrian refugees on the streets of Europe. War ravaged Yemen. Thousands of African asylum-seekers in Tel Aviv continued to be denied refugee status and deemed “infiltrators” by the Jewish state.

“We saw all the refugee issues in all the world, in Israel, in Paris, and it made us think of the journey [Rachel] made,” said Tair “Being musicians seeing so many places, we thought — what is a home to us? Is it a certain person? A village you grew up in? The country? So we decided to put this idea into a concept album.”

The sisters used the childhood stories they heard of Rachel as the basis for the album’s content.

“Her family would hide [this history] – don’t talk about the past, etc. – but for us, we felt our great-grandma in the studio,” said Tair, the eldest sister, at a café in her suburban neighborhood of Ramat Aviv, just north of Tel Aviv.

Though the album includes stories from their great-grandmother’s past, it wasn’t nostalgia A-Wa sought. As they were always told growing up, the past is the past. But as A-Wa conveys through their music, the past can shed light on what’s happening today, interact with it, even become something entirely different — and downright groovy.

The album’s festive but fierce music takes listeners on a hip hop journey of funky keyboards accompanied by rustic tin drums and Yemenite Arabic melodies. “Everything that is a silver plate or whatever, you can drum on it,” said Tair. “The Yemenite woman would sing about lovers and drum on plates, anything they had while they worked, so we wanted to bring that vibe into the studio.”

The band also decided for the album to decidedly bring together fashion of then and now —adorning Yemenite gold necklaces over Adidas shirts and Nike sneakers — to create a new urbo-traditional fusion aesthetic.

“With our fashion, we don’t want to keep it in the past,” said Tair. “We want to bring the tradition and statement to nowadays and make it relevant. There is no use to just bringing something as it was.”

...Even for a Jewish Yemenite refugee, Rachel was resilient, and she was courageous. As her great-granddaughter Tair recalled, Rachel was married off at the age of 12. It was an unhappy arrangement. Soon after giving birth to her daughter, Shama’a, she decided to divorce her husband — norms be damned. She married a second time, but still, luck was not on her side, so she left the man “tight like an old shoe.” Rachel met another man, and they did fall in love, but the daughter of a local sheikh seduced him, and he left Rachel — a story retold in the reggae blues-like song “Bint Al Sheikh.”

Throughout Yemen, Rachel went from village to village, a single mother struggling to find a place they could call home. 

...Neither in Ibb nor Sana’a nor the ma’abarot refugee camps of Israel could Rachel find shelter she could call home. So “what is a home?” A-Wa asks again. “Bayti fi rasi,” is their response –

My home is in my head A refugee for my heart Wherever I go, it is with me.

Poor and fleeing persecution, Rachel brought from her homeland only what was intangible, possessions that she kept in the mind and soul. “She took her daughter, her loneliness, her Yemeni food, her father’s weaving and her mother’s tongue,” said Tair. “This is about identity… it’s what every refugee brings.”

The pressure to bury that identity upon arriving in a new place is widely felt among refugees, but in the album, A-Wa takes the story down the particular, dark path that Israel set Mizrahi refugees like Rachel on.

This marks new territory for the band. In their 2014 debut album, Habib Galbi, A-Wa’s music was revolutionary in Israel by its basic nature: three Jewish sisters, born and raised in southern Israel, singing modernized versions of Yemenite folk songs in Arabic. The band’s very existence is an act of rebellion against suppression of Mizrahi culture...

...The call-and-response section of refugee hopes and discriminatory reality — which Tair said was inspired by West Side Story’s similarly themed “I’d Like To Be In America” — describes in stark terms the Yemenite experience after arriving in Israel, including decrepit, overcrowded tent conditions in the ma’abarot, or refugee absorption camps, and the phenomenon in which thousands of Yemenite children disappeared and families say hundreds were abducted by the state and given to childless Holocaust survivors. From those earliest days, MIzrahim were confined to the lowest rungs of Jewish Israeli society, compelled to abandon Arabic and their native culture.

The A-Wa sisters dutifully avoid politics, but their decision to address this past feels timely following last year’s passage in the Knesset of the Nation-State Bill, which downgraded Arabic in Israel from an official language.

“A lot of Jewish people came from Arab countries, and to try to erase their language or identity, it’s really sad,” said Tair. “When Rachel and our grandma, Shama’a, came to Israel, [Israel] wanted to change their names. Shama’a [Arabic for “candle”] became Shoshana, which means rose, not a candle. So [with the Nation-State Bill] we observe it now even.”

By releasing this daringly personal album, the A-Wa sisters resist the forces they had sometimes felt even within their own family. “Maybe our grandparents were ashamed of their culture,” said Tair. “But not only are we not ashamed, we are proud of who we are. We celebrate the many identities that we wear. I’m a woman, I’m a Yemenite, I’m Jewish, I’m a sister… it goes on.”

Through the sisters’ music, however, a revival has taken place.

...For the narrative- and genre-bending A-Wa sisters, the past is no more — but memory isn’t static. It is alive, dynamic and changing with the times so a Yemenite headdress complements sneakers and tin drums turn up the dance-floor in a modern-day hip-hop production. This process that manifests in Baiti Fi Rasi’s music and aesthetic – fusing the cultures of there and here, then and now — is happening among refugees all over the world.

I wondered how the Haim sisters — second-generation Sabras with Hebrew as their native tongue and a wide but sorely incomplete Yemenite vocabulary — would relate to Rachel’s profound words. What can baiti fi rasi mean to them? “We feel we are luckier than the last generations. Israel is a home to us. The village we grew up in the Arava Valley is a home to us. My husband is a home to me,” said Tair. “But the idea of bayti fi rasi means I’m taking my home to everywhere I go. Home is a feeling. It’s a spirit.”

[artsninspo]

PULSE - Part II: Pulse

PART I | PART II | PART III

“Elle!” Kizzy’s voice says banging on the door. “Come on, it’s jerk fest. Lets get you ready!” Kiz continues. Anywhere else she would have ran to the door as a courtesy to her neighbours but here theres no need. “Look at you, such a princess” Kiz laughs looking at Elle in her white robe and hair in a matching towel, both monogrammed with silver thread. She’d been like that since she was a child. Disney overload and too much time gawking at her GG’s glamour. Kiz’s upbringing was different though they were close as children. Her mom the lawyer and her father the sports star turned cultural museum curator.

“I don’t like being called princess all of a sudden” Elle responds, shaking her head to rid herself of the Mr. Asshole memory and opting to share it with Kizzy.

“Sorry, excuse me, he did what?” Kizzy asks Elle with wide eyes. Elle had contemplated telling her hot headed cousins the truth. Ultimately, she decided she’d be honest - just in case Mr. Asshole was crazy enough to do more than talk to her crazy.

“Kiz, I wish I was exaggerating.” Elle shrugs and Kizzy’s eyes close - she bursts into laughter the complete opposite reaction than Elle had expected. She shakes her head as tears come to her eyes and she holds her stomach continuing to crack up.

Has she lost it?

“Kiz?” Elle reasons and the laughter subsides as Kiz turns to her cousin shaking her head.

“So we have this thing about outsiders. Every so often some brave person comes in, sometimes its curiosity, sometimes its investors paying people to feel the pulse of the city and infiltrate whats ours. Gentrify us, divide us more than we already are, cause problems. I’m not saying he doesn’t have home girls or bail money but it sounds like a scare tactic to me” Kiz smiles and Elle sits back.

How fucking weird is this place?

It did make perfect sense, shed grown up around political figures and destabilization and inflation were two elements that successfully promoted gentrification and erasure. Everything here was visibly black owned and operated. Everything unapologetically black.

“I mean it makes sense, I guess” Elle shrugs not completely sure what to make of things yet.

“Why else would a straight man be rude instead of trying to get in your pants Ellie, come on.”

“I don’t know Kiz. But add him being an asshole in as well because he did toss a man down the stairs and he’s gives off leave me alone vibes, he was even rude to the women. I’m not getting special treatment”

Kizz smiles at her cousins naiveté “You’re always getting special treatment princess. GG Jillian wouldn’t expect anything less from her girls”

The nostalgia of the past made things easier, there was distance and familiarity. They could be the versions of themselves that made them most happy around each other without judgement. Unlike everyone else Kizzy never pried.

…

The festival was everything to Elle, she couldn’t stop smiling. It felt like summer at the family house, the music, the cooked food, the people dancing and having a good time. She couldn’t remember the last time she laughed so much. Uncle Kell got plastered and her legs were sore from all the dancing. A woman with the look that accompanies leaving Mr. Assholes room passes her on her way out.

Pig

Every few days there seemed to be a new face mixed into his rotation of woman that clearly kept coming back to get screwed by a man with a bad attitude.

On cue Mr. Asshole himself emerges from the stairs below holding two laundry baskets. Elle had come to recognize dark denim a black tee and his gold chain as his uniform. She continued up the stairs without an acknowledgement reaching in her purse to get her keys before turning back to him.

“I’m not here to get the pulse of the city or change it by the way. In case thats what was fuelling your bad attitude” Elle comments. A knock at the front door interrupts her. They turn in unison before Mr. Asshole jogs down to give the person a look.

“Black, whats up” the man says respectfully. “I was coming to introduce myself to that lady but if she’s yours-“ Black shuts the door in the mans face before he can continue, showing off his glowing personality. The man takes it as his cue to leave and Elle turns continuing up the stairs with her keys in hand.

“That was nice of you” Elle comments sarcastically.

“It’s a scam, lip service leads to you coming home to an empty apartment. Whole neighbourhood sees the deliveries, your movers talk a lot too” Black comments making her feel stupid again with his unimpressed expression and exasperation.

He thinks I’m an idiot.

“Thanks for caring” Elle gives an amused and dismissive smile to get under his skin. It works.

“Don’t feel special. You call the cops, and it’s in my interest to keep them out of here. Your shit is fine” he points to her apartment before pushing the door open to his.

“Then I’m lucky to have you here” she smiles killing him with kindness and he smirks shaking his head.

“Tell whoever told you about pulse that you need a bodyguard or a babysitter cause your attitude is going to get you in trouble.” Black comments leaning in his doorway and looking her over. He seemed most alien of all to Elle. He’s handsome, doing well enough for himself has women and respect - why’s he so mean?

“Anything else?” She asks with a nice nasty tone - he smiles again. Its perfect as he shakes his head.

“Nah, you’re crazy. You’ll be just fine” he comments.

Elle nods the animosity slightly lessened between them. “Goodnight..” She trails wanting a name.

“People 'round here call be Black. Satisfactory Elle Blake?” He says giving her goosebumps as he leans in the doorway with he same cool expression. Her surprise gives him some satisfaction. “This is my world sweetheart” he patronizes.

“Hmm” Elle smiles. “Never cared enough to look you up” she comments turning the tables and heading into her apartment. Honestly, she didn’t hate him. Elle could tell he was dangerous but she also knew he wasn’t the kind of loose cannon maniac that she needed to actively fear. He’d fuck with her but he wouldn’t physically harm her - especially just because of her smart mouth. No matter how prissy anyone thought she was - Elle Blake would never be anyones bitch.

_____

Elle couldn’t be sure about what she was hearing. Flipping up her sleep back and removing her ear plugs the sounds only grew louder. A fire alarm and knocking at her door.

Shit.

“I’m up, I’m coming” she shouts grabbing her most prized possessions and pulling on her robe locking her door and running out in her house shoes.

“Fuck” she muttered once she was outside and could see the firefighters and made a mental checklist of all the things that were still inside. The air tastes like ask and everyone is looking upwards at the house spouting water. Elle texts Kizz to let her know she’s alright even though its three in the morning.

“Everyone is out safe” A man says by the looks of him he’s the super.

“The structural engineer won’t be in for another two hours” A firefighter says and Elle groans looking around at the people around her who have found spots to get comfortable.

“Busses are on their way to keep them comfortable” another firefighter says as Elle surveys the crows finding Black in no time at all.

“Hey, wheres the nearest safe hotel?” She asks holding her bag. “I’d love to do the back and forth thing with you right now but I’m a raging bitch if I don’t get enough sleep.” She sighs.

“Why hotel?” He asks more alert.

“Heard they have to wait for the okay from the structural engineer and it’ll take two hours” Elle reasons.

“Fuck outta here” Black says heading towards the super. “Wheres the damage?” He asks.

“Kitchen on the eight floor” the super says and Black gives Elle a look that says fuck this heading back inside the apartment. She follows and no one stops them.

I guess the bad attitude ain’t so bad.

Is her last conscious thought before she falls back to sleep.

________

TAGS: @bugngiz @lifelover4u @l-auteuse @notsomellowmushroom

[blairlocke]

Night Walk

     I remember that Mary was speaking, that moment when I entered your view.  She fell deep into the despair of the recounting of her latest date turned one night stand turned weekend sleepover turned no-call.  I grimaced because I knew that she wanted fun and passion, and that means sex, but she also wanted someone to share a life with.  Someone to console her by retorting with corny, sardonic one liners from her favorite show, just because that’s the kind of love that a girl really needs.  Shoulders to cry on, foot rubs, french kisses just inside the door, lounging in bed on Saturdays, late Sunday brunch followed by walks in the park with her favorite guy and her other favorite guy, her adorable dog...that’s just to start.  She was a year younger than me, and had a little of an all-grown-up goth girl vibe, complete with dark hair, streaked with a different color every month, wide and dark owlish eyes, dark circles hanging underneath, high cheekbones, and chalky skin.  She was uniquely pretty, and always hovering on the precipice of falling in love with her destined dark horse.  I envied her brash tongue, and that sex often meant little to her.  She rejected men afterwards as often as they did her, and therefore, a balance was struck--the blind leading the blind astray.  

     I remember talking to your friend.  We strode into the saloon, as it was called--shoddy dance floor, packed that night with music lovers, pushed together in front of a stage in one corner, no dancing, just swaying.  The pool table was occupied by a couple of guys who looked just about our age, my gaze gliding from them, then, spotting no girls in the vicinity.  I scanned the room as I followed Mary absently.  It was unlike me to not just keep my gaze in front of me, focused on my destination, trying to ignore the crawling feeling that I always got that I was being scrutinized, and judged, as I walked along any route, always wondering what the onlooker might be seeing.  What the impression was that I made on the room at large.  But tonight, it was busier than the time I had visited the saloon previously, and that made me feel more comfortable to look around.  Loud noise and overall bustling always made me feel less on display.  There were too many people for anyone to zero in on this one redheaded girl of little means, but whose blue-grey eyes, I had been told, were wide and soft, and often intense, which made sense--I had also been told that I worried entirely too much, and that means a heightened self awareness, and THAT means an intense gaze and querying brow.  “Who ARE you?” they ask…”What are you thinking?”  I don’t look too closely at anyone for that reason, unless I am actually speaking with them.

     I remember that your friend looked dark and dangerous.  His long impossibly curly hair was pulled back loosely to the nape of his neck, a bandanna acted as a headband, keeping curling dark strands from touching his face.  He had a patchy beard, earrings in both ears, and dressed all in black, and could have come off the cover of some 80s hair rock band.  He was quiet, and I wonder if that made him menacing, for I would in the years to come discover that he was the softhearted one of your group.  Whilst you looked like a hipsteresque teddy bear, sitting on a barstool, it was he that was the sweet one.  I think that he was the only one who knew of your transgressions with me.  I have no proof, but it is my guess.  Something in his eyes...a pity, and uneasiness.  And it was his soft heart that you counted on for forgiveness.  I am not sure anyone else would have been so kind to you.  But what do I know?  Perhaps, they all knew, or perhaps, none of them did.  Maybe you lied to them, or maybe you just lied to yourself, glossed over your follies, and talked up my shortcomings, and pulled an Ariel Castro?  You believed that you did nothing.  I got roughed up because I had it coming.  I think of this because I remember one of our bigger incidents, in which I begged you to work it out with me, as by that point, I had so much to lose (you made sure of that), you tried to show me the bruises I left on your chest.  I was shocked.  Not about the bruises as much as your blaming me for giving them to you, as don’t you remember, dear Bear...you got those bruises because that’s how hard you were coming at me.  You pinned me against the wall, shoving me again and again, and my hands came out to keep you back.  You dragged me out eventually.  My shirt rode up, the carpet taking off flesh as I was pulled by my arms, my legs trying to grab ahold of anything all the way.

     Your smile that first time was almost pensive.  I don’t remember the conversation.  Mary was happy to see you, her old friend through some other friend.  She liked hanging out with you because you smoked her out.  She always liked getting something for nothing, and she was the kind of business woman whom seeked out those whom she could give little and receive much.  I did not know why there had never been anything between the two of you, but I would learn later that she simply was not interested, but you were interested in sleeping with her.  She claimed that that was before I started dating you, but just that she wanted me to know.  I do not know if she told the truth about this.  It became increasingly clear to me once I left the confines of our love, that likely you had been doing things behind my back with women.  You likely did not like having only one girl.  You just did not want to lose me by being honest about your promiscuous nature.  Taureans are possessive, jealous creatures.  That would have rocked the boat, and waves were already sieging us as it was.

[skinfeeler]

meandering diary post, or the melancholic tale of my 24-hour completely onesided romance in the context of the human condition

[[MORE]]

i've been a member of a student organisation for queer people for about half a year now. this means that i hadn't attended an introductory period yet — once an academic year, at the start of it — but that i knew basically everyone who organised it.

after a few days of miscellaneous activities that were mostly 'okay' (minus a drunk fall of my bike at some point) i knew a couple more people. still, it was nothing like the summer camp at the end of it.

the first 90% of the journey was by train. i shared four seats facing each other with three other people, including a girl who was slightly taller and a bit older than me. she had brought a wine bottle and so it happened that the four of us already started drinking at about 15, not even at the camp yet.

we got along though— especially this girl and i. we talked a bunch about the kinds of exercise/sports we like. she was my second round that day in explaining the rules of roller derby, i can do it in about 20 seconds now with the help of the images from the 'basics' section of this article: http://mtlrollerderby.com/the-rules-of-roller-derby/?lang=en w

e also talked about gender a bit. it went all right. we had a later conversation in our bunk that day where we really bonded, about trauma too and all that stuff.

"we have a bond, i think."

that was later though, for now i was still on my way. at some point i turned inwards as i sometimes do and during one of the transfers while outside she pulled me away and asked me if i was all right. i explained that i just have a few issues and that sometimes they played up. she gave me the big scarf she was wearing and told me to put it over my head and narrow my field of vision that way, just kind of hide in it. that that's what she does when she's not well. that was nice of her.

we missed the train-bus connection because we went to the supermarket of the small remote village to buy more wine, but we got picked up by a second bus a bit later.

once at the place i changed into a sexier outfit and instantly felt more confident. this was immediately crushed once people started making (completely benign) jokes about std tests. i started thinking about my own test and the rape that happened before it and just went sit somewhere with a beer bottle to be sad. one of the people who i knew was an organiser but didn't personally know asked me if i was all right and i stood up and tried to ask if we could go outside for a bit, but didn't manage to speak because i was already crying. fortunately he understood the cue. i told him about that i got triggered and he made sure to make it clear to me that the committee would do its best to look after me if i allowed him to tell that sometimes i get like this, with them not having to know what exactly. i took him up on the offer, and it helped that subsequently an organiser would occasionally come to me when i lost my vibe, which was quite often.

but in that moment just knowing people actually take it seriously was enough, and i told him that the best thing now would probably just be to rejoin the party and chug my beer, and so we returned inside and so i did.

a while later i lost a good portion of my energy again. in a fateful moment, i decided to go back to my room which i shared with others. my new friend was talking about speed with another girl, who ended up giving it to us.

"i'm done with this crap. you can have it if you want to."

i don't have the required associations to procure anything like this myself, so i thought i'd not pass up on the opportunity.

the four of us went back downstairs.

first i was cold, tired, and dull. now i possessed immense warmth, energy, and clarity, almost immediately.

i asked my friend if this is about what i should be feeling. she told me it was, but also immediately switched to her more caring tone and that i should be careful.

"if you ever want to try something, you can always do it at my place."

sounds like a fucked up bid to get me in a vulnerable situation, but given the context and her general conduct i am certain she really was just caring about me in a slightly dark way.

there were drinking games that we played in teams, in most of them chugging alcohol fast combined with skills of physical dexterity was determinant. in my current state, i was absurdly good at both on top of my usual degree of mastery and won us the tournament. it was nice to get cheered on lots— it was cool to be in a parallel dimension where suddenly the skills i had were brought up a number of times in the days after.

i had a great night. i hadn't been (that) happy in months. every moment my body was bursting with energy. i love dancing, and i especially love dancing when weird fellow mental cases who have taken it upon themselves for reasons i don't understand grasp both my hands, pull me in, and keep me very close to them. later we sat on a couch and i leaned against her and it was very nice. every time i asked her if she was uncomfortable she pet my head for a bit, so obviously i was instantly in love.

alcohol disables your mental safeguards and this can backfire. cigarettes just make you slow. speed simply solved every problem instantly.

we danced until 0400. after that we were offered a joint by someone and we passed that around in a circle so we could sleep better. it worked very well, but by the time we went to bed, it was simply almost time to get up, and they don't fuck around with schedule at student camps.

i woke up in agony because the day before i went on camp i had a really intense derby training, and when i dance, i really love to bring my hips into it. everything between my waist and knees was searing, burning, i had to stretch and massage until i took the edge off enough that i could convince myself that i wasn't injured. the night before i hadn't felt anything at all. obviously i was also more hungover than ever before, but like, whatever. because i value a varied diet and a rigorous exercise routine, i decided to take it easy from thereon, only start drinking in the evening, et cetera. i was already going to skip sunday training for this, and additionally there are a few resistance training goals that i want to meet in the near future.

these three felt otherwise. they would go on to drink all day. it was very difficult to talk to any of them, although they seemed to be having fun though. i was kind of bothered that i couldn't talk to this girl meaningfully at all anymore at some point, so during that day and the last day of camp i kind of stopped feeling something for her entirely, which was very odd, completely unlike how it usually goes for me.

we played some games, including a quiz. my team won the quiz, but not the other game.

that night most of my acquaintances were absent for the first part. the sweet autistic metalhead i met earlier had gone to her one-person bedroom to decompress, the three from the start were apparently on a walk that i couldn't safely participate in, the others were fuck knows where. i was in a really, really bad mood. i knew that speed would solve all my problems, allow me to join the dance party going on. instead i wasted away on a couch for a while.

then there was dinner, and then an awards show. two games won (the beer game counted) meant i was called in front twice and won a shot of hard liquor as a price, thus twice in a row. very convenient for my fealty to fitness, but at least nice.

afterwards, a number of friends were periodically back on the dance floor in shifts, and the shots were doing their job. the nice thing about shots is that they mean you don't constantly have to piss as with beer, so they made a nice base for the rest of my consumption that night.

i found my new favorite pop song dancing with the girl who i have a particular unbreakable fealty to— that resultant from me breaking down in her arms about a girl not liking me back earlier that year lol

that girl would eventually do some things to me that would present one of the main causes of me at times completely turning inwards and become unable to talk to people, simply looking on and knowing my humanity has been taken away from me by many people.

but right there, dancing, knowing i was surrounded by people who care about me even if i am nothing like then, i was doing just fine, despite having quietly had a mental breakdown on that couch where everything at once played up.

eventually the music selection turned to shit and i decided to do the smart thing and have six hours of sleep instead of two. some sweet angels made sure to coax me into drinking lots of water.

"you'll be grateful in the morning."

a decent night, minus the transmisogynist components of some sketch one of the members of the previous committee did. i'll talk to her about it soon and i'm confident she'll understand how it was hurtful— i had a drunk conversation with two other girls in the restroom about it and they were fully behind me and encouraged me to do this.

the next morning almost everyone was still drinking, despite the fact that most of the day we would just spend in a bus bringing us back from the middle of nowhere.

at some point i sat down on a couch and for the first time in days, took out my ear buds and listened to some music i like.

it was cathartic and i had a particular kind of realisation.

i had spent an entire alcohol getting fucked up to music i could only tolerate there and then, under bright lights and with accompanying alcohol. drinking the kind of alcohol i don't like drinking because it's what was available, hanging out mostly with people with whom i have very little in common. in general, kind of losing myself.

i knew what i needed to do, what i can do soon. all i need to do is get out of this house to a better place, get my painting station set up, keep being involved in the roller derby, and maybe somewhere along the lines i would figure stuff out for myself.

of course, there are certain social circumstances that need to happen to me too, but i certainly can't do that while inert.

i had skipped the derby's general member's meeting on friday. it was the only one of the year, and i really wanted to attend. they were discussing attendance policies, and i feel i could've really learned a lot about the members of the league from that. debates about derby as its own reward and assuming the inherent joy of cooperation versus a dedication to structured sustained development and competitivity, or any of the ways one could frame that.

i had missed a training, when i had immediate short-term goals that i could have fulfilled that training.

the other rookies like me, and so does the trainer. not because of my ability to chug alcohol really fast — although i intend to impress them at the party we apparently have soon — but because of my dedictation, fervor, and general attitude.

maybe there is a common source to the fact that i can dance better than i can talk and that i feel i'm more meaningfully together with people when i'm on wheels than when i'm not, generally speaking at least.

it feels like there's a rift between me and the rest of humanity, but a little less on the track than most other places.

but then speed also helps.

it helps everything. it makes me feel happy.

but i know i can't actually take this as often as i would need without fucking myself up. still, on our way back, alienated and exhausted, i was constantly craving it.

when we got out of the bus and a people hugged me goodbye, i did meditate for a bit on the fact that i did create many new bonds. maybe i'll get more out of them than i felt by the last day, but it's complicated.

and now i'm at friends who fed me and gave me weed to finally fucking calm down. it's all right.

i miss my friends in london who i feel separated from only by distance.

[hotegg]

my weird fae connection (pt 1)

ive has a weird relationship with fey my whole life, even when i didn’t believe they existed.

my earliest memory regarding faeries was when i was reeeaaallly small. baby toddler age. i had this lovely little book about faeries that had beautiful and captivating illustrations. it was a little kids book, so i imagine its contents were sweet and bedtime story-ish. yet, when i looked at it, i got such a weird feeling. kinda like... i got uncomfortable? i wasn’t sure why, though.

fast forward many years until i started my craft, so about a year and a half ago. i learn a bit about the fey/fae but only really basic stuff like don’t give them your name, don’t make deals with them unless you’re really prepared, don’t thank them, they are dangerous, ect ect

other than that, i didn’t spend too much time focusing on them because i was busy learning other things.

one day i was feeling generous and in a giving mood. i wanted to become a bit more friendly towards whatever forces or spirits resides on and around my land. so i left a very very simple offering and told them to enjoy. part of the dedication was to the fae that might’ve been around.

it was kinda a one-time thing. i didn’t leave any other offerings after that. but then, oh boy, a week or so after, i had a shit week. all of my stuff kept going missing in the most INCONVENIENT of times. sometimes the things would turn up at the end of the day, sometimes not. it was extremely frustrating and it made me real upset real fast. at the time, i just didn’t recognize that a spirit, or even the fey, was messing with me. the idea only really hit me last month out of the blue.

as i’m going about my path, learning witch stuff and doing magic, i meet a lot of amazing people online. i also got some energy readings done. from what i can remember, i’ve been told i have fey/fae energy twice now. the first time was by a friend here on tumblr just briefly starting that my energy reminds them of fae. huh, weird. it was interesting, but nothing clicked when they said that.

even after a year of practicing magick, i still didn’t learn much about faeries. in fact, i kinda avoided them. actually, i definitely avoided them. i’m not sure why. kinda like the book when i was small, i just kept getting weird vibes from fey that i didn’t wanna mess with. especially after i realized that the week of hell i had experienced might’ve been due to the fact that i didn’t give the fae more offerings when they wanted it.

now, i honestly can’t remember if this next event was before or after my friend mentioning the fae vibe in my energy. but i remember one night, definitely a handful of months ago at least, i was falling asleep. but it wasn’t... it wasn’t a normal way of me falling asleep, if that makes sense? yes, i was laying down, i was comfortable and tired and ready to rest, but my energetic being was like “nope! we want to go to the astral!!!” and it was hard for me to stop.

it felt like i was diving head first down a chute. i keep going deeper until i remember seeing an oddly blank background that had a reddish tint to it? and standing before the strange backdrop, i (blurry) saw a handful of small beings. they were short (and if i’m remembering correctly, kinda squat) and had wings, and looked like they had human bodies. other than that, i couldn’t make out the details.

they seemed really joyful and jolly. kinda like any creature dancing and singing in Shrek. to me, it was like watching the cheesiest play.

they were singing in these high pitches voices and i understood they were smiling and acting happy and whimsical. but their dancing seemed to be leading me to somewhere. they were inviting somewhere. they were trying to lure me in.

now, a couple things to mention here.

1. i trust my deep foundation of my soul to save me in odd circumstances. i feel somewhat confident that i could kinda auto-pilot around in the astral and trust my core being not to be stupid. and i trust that in dangerous or odd situations, my consciousness will awaken, like it did in the situation, and i’ll be able to try to make my way out.

2. i understand that what i was seeing could’ve been a glamour. probably was a glamour. but the question is by who? were fey trying to appear more inviting? or was some other entity trying to completely fool me by portraying something vastly, vastly different from what they truly are? who knows. i guess i will never find out. but for now, we’ll say they were faeries because they appeared that way to me.

alright. so. these little faeries things were dancing and singing and speaking to me like an overly enthusiastic tour guide. when i noticed they were moving in a way that looked like they were trying to lure me somewhere, my consciousness woke the fuck up.

the creature were saying things like “come on! join us! it’ll be fun!” all that kinda bs.

and i kept yelling and trying to pull away from this... deceptive force that was trying to bring me in. i just kept yelling “no! i don’t want to!” over and over again, louder and louder, until i woke up with a jolt.

........ 🤷🏻‍♀️

so! after that!!! REALLY avoided fae.

fast forward to now. maybe last week or this week? i get an energy reading done by a blog on tumblr i’ve never interacted with before.

they mention that i’m connected to fae. not that my energy reminds them of fae, but that i’m connected somehow. weird.

still not sure how i’m connected to them, but once i read that, something seemed to lock into place? like some sort of subconscious meaning clicking that i couldn’t grasp yet. and ever since, my relationship with fae has appeared to become weirder.

ever since the diviner told me that, shit started in my house. specifically, my things. but only when i was looking for them.

okay, cat. that’s normal. you’re forgetful, clumsy, messy, and you misplace things often.

but... it was getting to a really strange point. as if, whatever happening was intentional.

the only example i can really remember clearly (because it happened AFTER i wondered if my shit going missing again was fae) is the other morning. maybe yesterday or the before?

i was sitting on my floor in front of my mirror in my room, doing my makeup. i needed to use my toner before i did anything. i had sat down after purposefully placing my toner next to my makeup bag after taking it out of another bag.

so, i layed all my cosmetics out before me and then reached for my toner.

which wasn’t there.

????????????????????????

i sat in place for a moment with this face: 🤨

and proceeded to carefully observe my surroundings. the bottle (about the size of a shampoo container) was no where on the floor with me. nor was it in my bedsheets. or on top of my only shelf.

i went out of my room and looked in each bathroom in my house bc i know how absolutely terrible my memory is and how easy it is for me to misplace things.

it’s nowhere to be found.

i go back to my room, now kinda frustrated, and i look everywhere in my room. i lift more things up, move all my makeup, shake my sheets, i do it all. still nada.

so. i sigh. then, knowing what i had to do, i spoke aloud and said, “please, toner, reveal yourself to me.” a simple spell that is kinda reliable in my experience.

when i said those words, i silently aimed it towards any spirits that may have been around. that were most likely around.

what do you know. THREE SECONDS after the words, i don’t even look around my room. i just plop myself back in front of the mirror, ready to give up on the toner, and the damn bottle was sitting on top of my makeup.

😐

so, ever since that. this fae relationship connection thing has.... caught my attention.

the odd thing is though. this week, as my stuff is being moved around (there were multiple other instances like the toner), my possessions seemed to turn up almost immediately after i asked for them back.

which is making me think... if this is fae shenanigans, they don’t seem to be doing this out of anger. but rather as... some sort of sign to communicate with me? or confirm something that i can’t even process right now.

anyways. i’m going to continue to try to understand what is happening and why with as little direct communication to fae as possible.

does anyone have thoughts in this????

ill be sure to keep an uodated log on this fae connection journey.

OH! the whole reason i wrote this in the first place!!! lately- before the weird fae stuff started happening within the past couple weeks- i’ve noticed that i cannot let a diviner do a service for me without giving them something in return. at first, i thought i was doing it to be nice. and i am. but. i can’t help but wonder if it’s fae influenced...

update: i also remember that last night i went to bed with my retainer in and in the morning it wasn’t in my mouth and i haven’t been able to find it! that’s too weird if that’s fae influenced!

i also remember that i was trying to count something, but for some reason it was extremely hard to count up to ten and my mind and tongue felt twisted. i have no idea if they do stuff like that, but i couldn’t help but think about the fae.

[char-thenerd]

A Devil in Angel’s clothes

Writing challenge for @bang-tan-bitch

Rating: M (Sexual themes) 

Word count: 2k 

Hoseok x vampire!reader 

“Why did I let you drag me to this?” Y/n asked as the bass began hitting their ears from outside the club.

“Come on y/n you know why we’re here.” Jungkook responded “It’s Halloween, the one day a year where we can feed and no one questions it as anything other than fake blood and a hella good costume. Plus Namjoon is coming and he said he would be down to tag team someone if they were ok with it.” Y/n rolled her eyes, even though Namjoon was only a hundred years older than Jungkook, the younger still looked up to and respected him as if there were centuries difference between the two.  

“When are you just going to decide to fuck him instead of having a sounding board of a human between the two of you?”  Y/n asked right before they walked into the dark club, with lights flashing and costumed bodies dancing to the beat of the music.  

“Who says we haven’t.” He yelled over the thrum of the bass waggling his eyebrows.  “Best orgasm I ever had was when we had one of them tied up and forced him to watch.”

“Good God Kook, I don’t need all the details of how much of an exhibitionist you are.” She faked covering her ears moving further into the club, towards a far booth, their small clan already seated eyes scanning the crowd of people.  She slid down into the booth next to Yoongi while Jungkook took his spot next to Namjoon, the older putting his arm possessively around the younger.  

“Almost thought you guys wouldn’t make it, I was about ready to go find someone to feed on with Tae.” He commented looking at the both of them nodding towards Taehyung already grinding on a girl dressed as an angel out on the dance floor.  

“We would have got here on time Joon but y/n took forever as per usual.”  Jungkook said

“Oh no don’t you dare try and blame this on me, you were the one that changed four times before saying you should have just stuck with the first outfit you put on.”

“Hey, we can argue about this later. The rest of the group Tae’s girl was with all seem to have potential for us.”  The three of them followed his gaze towards a group of guys standing on the edge of the dance floor with matching costumes, one as an angel, two as devils.  The tallest devil had broad shoulders, plump lips, dark hair parted to reveal his forehead with a stern but soft gaze.  The smaller devil had silver hair with plump lips to rival the taller.  Next to the two of them, the angel seemed out of place, his frame between the other two in size with flaming red hair to match the others’ costumes.  He was uncomfortably pulling at the white costume, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was currently.  The four of them looked at each other then back to the small group.  

“Something doesn’t feel right about this.” Y/n voiced warning bells going off in her head “Can we find others?”  

“What are you not up to the challenge?” Namjoon asked looking at her smiling.  

“No, something is just off about them.”  They all turned to look at the three men.  After a minute Yoongi broke the silence that had fallen over them.  “You know I like docile ones so I’ll take the smaller of the devils.”  Y/n tried to get him to wait but he already made up his mind. 

“Go get him cowboy.” Jungkook said smacking his ass as he stood up and made his way over to the smaller one, whispering in his ear before leading him on to the dance floor

“Y/n,” Namjoon said drawing her attention. “If you don’t want to feed tonight, it’s ok you can head home.”

“It’s not that Joon, I just am getting weird vibes off the group.” 

“I just think you’re over reacting” Jungkook told her before turning to Namjoon. “Lets go snag the other devil before someone else does.” Jungkook tried to get up but Namjoon grabbed his sleeve to keep him in place eyes full of worry looking at Y/n. With an exasperated sigh  he spoke again challenging her. “Y/n I’ll give you the big bed for the next century if you manage to get him to dick you down.”  

“Is that a dare?” She asked with him smirking at her and nodding.  She hated the feeling in her gut but couldn’t refuse, the big bed was the most comfortable shit in their house. Gritting her teeth she tried to ignore the feeling that was causing her stomach to do back flips. 

“Watch and learn from the best.”  He added before sliding out of the booth Namjoon in tow.  She watched as they made their way over to the two, the larger quickly being pulled onto the dance floor.  After a few minutes of watching her target turn his back on the dance floor and head over to the bar. She slowly slid out of the booth and made her way over to him.  

“You know, with hair that color I have to think a devil is hiding in angel’s clothing.” She said into his ear making him jump slightly. “Shall we see if my idea is correct?” She asked once he turned to look at her holding out his hand.  

“You know, normally the guy hits on the girl but when the girl is as pretty as you, I have no complaints.”  He responded taking her had as they slowly made their way across the dance floor. She quickly scanned as she walked, looking for her brothers and found them each with their prey.  Taehyung now leaving the floor to exit the club, having started the process much sooner than the others, woman wrapped around his arm trying to continue making hickeys across his neck.  Yoongi and his devil were currently making out, bodies entwining to the point that she couldn’t tell where one started and the other ended.  Namjoon and Jungkook always the boldest of the clan, were also in the process of leading their devil off the floor and out of the club.  Y/n found a good spot to stop and quickly situate herself in front of her angel, back to chest as the found the rhythm together his hands slid around her waist pulling her closer to him so their hips were slowly grinding together.  “My names Hoseok by the way.”  He said into her ear, gently taking the lobe between his teeth. Once he had let go she turned and said into his ear.

“Y/n” repeating the same motion he had done, biting lightly on the lobe, careful enough to not draw out her fangs to pierce the skin before moving down his neck, leaving a hickey or two making him groan beneath her ministrations. Feeling his heart rate pick up made it nearly impossible to keep her fangs at bay, wanting nothing more than to sink into the soft skin and feel the warm blood trickle down her throat, before she could make that a reality she was brought back from her thoughts as he grabbed her face and pulled her into a blazing kiss, tounges fighting for dominance, making her whimper.   As they continued to make out on the floor she quietly slid her hand between their bodies, he visibly gasped and pulled back from the kiss when she found a bulge forming underneath the tight white pants and began fondling it, taking the opportunity to bite his lower lip while smirking.  

“You cut right to the chase.”  He said with a smile, but still gasping while leaning more into her touch.  

“It doesn’t seem like you’re complaining.” She said lips returning to his neck

“I’m not, it’s just..” His sentence faltered as she continued to palm his growing bulge.

“Come on Angel,” She whispered into his ear “be a good boy and finish that sentence.”

“My apartment is empty tonight.” He finally let out as he continued to shudder under her skilled hands. She finally removed her palm from his crotch and responded, before placing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“Lead the way angel.” He quickly grabbed her hand and forcefully pulled her off the dance floor and out towards the parking lot. Once they reached what was presumably his car he pulled y/n forward pinning her with his large frame against the door, making her gasp.  He quickly started mouthing at her neck before she felt a strong sharp pain right below his mouth.

“Did you just bite me?” She asked as he murmured a yes against her neck. Realizing the red flags going off in her head were indeed real when the pain in her neck didn’t fade and her vision started to go black around the edges.  “What was that?” She questioned trying to pull out of his grasp.

“You’ll see soon enough y/n” He responded, his voice and demeanor changing completely before her vision faded completely.

As she came to all y/n could feel was a dull pain in her head that was quickly overpowered by the burning around her wrists and ankles.  After trying to rid herself of whatever was burning her she realized she was only in her underwear, shackled with silver and couldn’t escape.  She could hear a familiar whimper beside her, turning to her left to confirm her suspicion, she saw Tae in the exact same state as her, shackled with silver, and stripped to his boxers.  He had broken out in a small sweat, the pain overwhelming, having been there for longer than her.  She turned to her right to see Namjoon and Jungkook in the exact same position but still unconscious and finally on the end there was an empty spot, knowing that it was for Yoongi knowing that all she could do now is pray that they didn’t get him too.  Y/n was drawn from her stupor by the sound of a door.  She turned her head to see Hoseok standing in the doorway, his gaze piercing.  Her gaze shifted to his belt that held varying degrees of weapons and tools, after seeing everything she made the connection to what he was and started laughing.  

“You must be in a lot of pain to be laughing as hard as you are.” He commented his silken voice full of sarcasm.

“Oh yes I'm in pain, but I’m laughing at myself for not realizing what you are sooner.” She responded trying to not let the burn affect the way she spoke to him.

“Oh come on Angel,” He said using her name from the night before “it was easy to miss. I mean us hunters don’t make grand displays of who we are.” He moved closer to her brandishing a knife which she could only assume was silver.  He slowly ran the smooth part of the knife across her bare stomach leaving a burn in its wake, causing her to suck in a breath and squirm, causing the shackles to burn her wrists and ankles even more.  He began chuckling.  “See angel what you didn’t know is that this is how tonight would have always turned out, you writhing under my touch but unfortunately for you, it won’t be pleasurable for you.” He was about to begin cutting a small spot right under her left breast when the woman who was with Tae from the club entered with a smile on her face.

“Everything alright Jisoo?” Hoseok asked

“everything is perfect, Jimin just showed up with the final clan member, Jin is helping get him from the car.”

“Wonderful, we’ll be able to get started.” He responded looking down at y/n. “You did get one thing right this evening y/n.  For your kind, I’m a Devil in angel’s clothing.”  

[plussizeappreciationfics]

Relationship Stages:  Peter Quill

Warning(s): mention of blood

Word count: 3272

A/N: So it’s been a very long time since I’ve written a RS, so I hope you will enjoy it:) And Peter Quill is not responsible for the terrible end of Infinity War so to anyone who doesn’t feel the same way

and

~~~ 

The first encounter

  You and Peter met after the he and Guardians saved you while they had a mission on earth. After they had killed the alien who had attacked your planet, Peter found you lying unconscious on the floor, people were still running around in panic while screaming. The second he had laid his eyes on you, his heart skipped a beat. “I must save her” was all he thought to himself before he ran over to you and quickly lifted you before ordering Rocket through his earpiece to come and collect the two of you.

 “Mantis what’s wrong with her?” Peter asked as soon as he had entered the Milano and gently placing you on the floor. Mantis gently placed her hand on your forehead before her antennas began shining, she sighed “She’s unconscious but very scared”. Peter sighed relieved “I’m going to take care of her until she’s feeling better again” he mumbled while lifting you off the floor and walking you to his room. Gamora was biting her lip as she had seen the way Peter looked at you, it was the same way he used to look at her.

 It took you an hour to wake up but when you did, you though that you had died and gone to heaven as Peter, the beautiful stranger gently smiled down to you. “Hello” he greeted you before helping you sit up straight and handing you a bottle of water. You could hear your frantic heartbeat as you couldn’t keep your eyes off Peter.

 “How are you feeling?” he asked and kneeled down in front of you, taking your shaking hands in his warm ones and gently squeezed them. “Good, just a little bit shaken up from what happened earlier” your unsteady voice responded. “I understand, but I’m glad you’re okay. My name is Peter. Peter Quill” Peter softly spoke as his eyes couldn’t stop staring at your beautiful face.

 “[Y/N]. [Y/N] [Y/L/N]” you smiled and loved the way your body tingled when Peter squeezed your hand again. No words were spoken as the two of you smiled at each other with sparling eyes.

 “We need to go” Gamora’s cold voice interrupted the two of you from the doorway. Her jaw was clenched as she glared at you. You were so intimidated by her cold stare that you removed your hands from Peter’s soft ones and stood up, still feeling a little dizzy. “I need to go home” you cleared your throat and waited until Gamora walked away before turning to Peter “Thank you so much for taking care of me”.

 Peter frowned and gently placed his hand on your shoulder “Let me walk you home” you cold hear the sadness in his voice. After you nodded your head, he quickly led you out of his room and introduced you to the guardians.

 Mantis greeted you with a hug and grinned when she touched your arm, feeling the love that was growing inside you for Peter. Drax nodded his head and weirdly asked if you liked to dance, when you nodded your head and smiled, he winked at Peter and patted him on shoulder. “I am Groot” Teenager Groot said and pointed at himself before returning to whatever videogame he was playing.

 “I’m Rocket, the brain and the captain of the crew” the talking racoon introduced himself while popping its imaginary collar. You giggled as Peter told Rocket to knock it off as he whistled at you. “Okay, I’m going to walk her home, wait for me here” Peter mumbled before opening the spaceship.

 You and Peter walked towards your house while playing twenty one questions. You were constantly laughing as Peter cracked the stupidest jokes and puns. Peter loved seeing you smile and laugh, the sound was just like music to his ear. Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach as you realized that you had arrived at your front porch, meaning that it was time to say goodbye.

 “I-I promise you [Y/N], that I’ll come back and visit you” Peter promised as he wrapped his arms around your thick waist and pulled you closer to him. You sighed in contentment while wrapping your arms around his broad shoulder and breathing in his calming scent, “I’ll be waiting” you whispered as the sadness and heartache began consuming you.

 You cleared your throat and pulled away from the hug, “Bye Peter”. He smiled sadly, “Bye [Y/N]” he whispered as your sweet scent still filled his nostrils. He watched you walking up the front porch and reach your front door, you turned around and gave him one last smile before entering your house and closing the door behind you.

 Peter stood there for a few more minutes, wishing that he could keep you company but he knew that he had other responsibilities to face at that moment. So, with a sad sigh, he made his back to the Milano where Gamora was already waiting for him.

 “What’s wrong?” Peter asked with furrowed eyebrows when she closed the door and scoffed. “I don’t like the way you look at that female human” she confessed. Peter couldn’t believe his ears, he had tried for three years to get Gamora to give him a chance and to explore the unspoken feelings they had towards one another but she kept denying it and pushing him away.

 “You don’t get to do that to me. I tried to get us together for three years Gamora, I only had eyes for you but you kept pushing me away and hurting me deeply. I moved on so you should do the same” was all Peter huffed before he walked past her to his room. Gamora let out a defeated sigh as disappointment and regret rushed through her body because she knew that he was right, she didn’t get to act jealous and possessive while she had him wrapped around her finger for a very long time but never took her chance.

 Shortly after travelling through space and saving other planets, Peter told the crew that he wanted to go back to earth and stay there for a little while so that he could spend time with you. Everybody (except Gamora) was thrilled about it and told him that you were welcome to join the Guardians Of The Galaxy, if you’d be ready to leave your planet of course.

 So, with shaky hands, Peter was standing in front of your front door. He rang the doorbell and impatiently waited for you, a part of him scared that you had moved on. When you opened the door, your heart skipped a beat as a wide smile crept onto your face. “Peter!” you squealed before wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips against his. He melted in your sweet embrace and dropped his bag before wrapping his arms around your thick waist and let his mind go blank as his lips moved gently against yours.

  Stage one: between first and third month

 It didn’t take Peter long to ask you to be his girlfriend, the two of you couldn’t keep your lips to yourselves. During the first three months, you were in the honeymoon phase, everything was perfect. You and Peter talked a lot and always had so much fun with each other. You showed him all the things he had missed on earth after he had been abducted and Peter absolutely loved it, especially the food.

 The two of you weren’t ready to share all your secrets yet, meaning that Peter had told you about his abduction but not about him being half celestial, his father killing his mother and him and Gamora having unspoken feelings for each other. Peter knew that he’d tell you all of that but not during the time where you two were getting to know each other.

 You two had never experienced this type of love with anyone. It wasn’t the sappy and cringy new love. No, it was the “where have you been all my life” love, you two discovered in interesting fact about one another every day and it only made you fall harder for one another.

 At your three month anniversary, Peter let you listen to his mother’s mix tape, it brought tears in your eyes as he opened up to you and let you listen to the songs that made him keep his sanity whenever he felt lost and hurt. After you listened to the songs, Peter asked you if you would be willing to leave earth on live on the Milano with him.

 You were hesitant because you felt like you weren’t going to be a helpful. You knew that the guardians all had a certain ability that always came in handy whenever they went on missions but you felt like an ordinary human with no special abilities. Peter reassured you that he could and the team could teach you how to fight, protect yourself and use weapons.

 He gave you a few days to think about it and was absolutely thrilled when you agreed to spend your life with him in space. Peter helped you pack all necessary things and gave you a few days to say goodbye to your parents and friends before he gave Rocket a call and thumbs up to land the spaceships not too far from your house.

 The team (except Gamora) welcomed you with open arms and helped you load all your belongings into the ship. You were excited to start a new adventure but instantly caught a weird vibe when you and Peter entered the Milano where a pissed looking Gamora ignored your presence while she glared at Peter. He stared back at her and you immediately saw something in his eyes that made you uncomfortable when he slowly shook his head at Thanos’s daughter, making her scoff and walk off to her room.

  Stage two: Between third and sixth month

  Things between you and Peter completely changed after the fourth month. Peter was acting weird whenever Gamora was present. You and Gamora didn’t get along as she hated you and you didn’t know why. Peter had begged the whole team to not tell you about him and Thanos’s daughter, so they pretended to not see the hateful glares she shot you whenever you entered the small rooms. The weird and negative vibes you caught off Gamora began to overwhelm you as you began puzzling her character and attitude together.

 Plus, you weren’t stupid and quickly realized that the reason she very much disliked you had something to do with Peter. You spent the next weeks training with the team and learning all about their weapons while you and Peter began to fight on a daily basis. Gamora was the reason you were fighting because you couldn’t handle his weird behavior around her anymore.

 Peter hated to see you upset and hurt whenever he lied to you or whenever his “ex” threw shade or spat a hateful comment towards you. He was so afraid that you would leave him and the mere though of it made his heart painfully clench in his chest because he loved you. Yeah, he loved you but none of you had dropped the L bomb yet.

 On your six month anniversary, you were visiting the planet Knowhere and had found a second space helmet, very similar to Peter’s and instantly took it and repaired it with the help of Rocket. You were excited to celebrate your anniversary because you were sick and tired of the fighting. Unfortunately, when you entered the Milano and went straight to your and Peter’s shared room, you found the door wide open along with the sight of Peter and Gamora lip locking.

 You let the space helmet drop onto the floor while tears rushed down your cheeks as you angrily yelled at Peter that you were breaking up with him. You had nowhere to go so you went to Manti’s room and cried on her bed. Peter was furious because Gamora had tricked him, she lied about needing his help but as soon as your footsteps were heard, she smashed her lips on his and held him tight.

 Peter quickly followed you and knelt down next to the bed and finally confessed that before he had met you, he had feelings for Gamora. He told you everything and promised you that he didn’t initiate the kiss nor did he enjoy it. He joined you on the bed and wiped your tears away before telling you that he loved you. Despite that you were still hurt, you said the L word back and Peter promised you that he would make it up to you.

 After the two of you made up, you went to Gamora and confronted her. Peter was so supportive as you finally got the chance to voice your thoughts and opinion. You told her that even if she was bitter and jealous about Peter being with you, she should respect him enough to not jeopardize your relationship. Gamora first didn’t want to hear a word and tried to walk away but you pulled her back by the arm which resulting in her almost choking you, but your training had made you stronger so you were able to fight her off you and keep her in a tight hold as you continued telling her that it wasn’t her place to manipulate Peter into cheating on you.

 The second you fought back, Peter knew that you were the one, immense pride and love filled his chest as he watched you not only defend yourself but also show your confidence. You let Gamora go and she hissed while rubbing her wrists but nodded her head and mumbled a quick apology before leaving you two.

 After that incident, your love for one another grew stronger. Peter confided the tragedies he had suffered from and told you everything about his mother, celestial father, Yondu and the Ravagers. You held tightly onto his hands as Peter tried to not let the tears run down his cheeks but failed. You immediately wrapped your arms around him and let him cry on your chest while you hummed “Ooh Child” to him.

  Stage three: between sixth and ninth month

  Seven months into the relationship, you were finally able to go on missions with Peter and the rest of the guardians. The first few ones were very tough and left bruises over your whole body but Peter was so proud. Whenever he saw you fighting, he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to spend the rest of his life with you.

 The though scared him a little bit because he had never had those kinds of thoughts with any female before. He always took care of your wounds and bruises, giving you sweet kisses and telling you how proud he was of you. Hearing that, made your heart melt in your chest. You felt that you and Peter were also connected in a deeper way, like soulmates.

 You and Gamora became close friends as you realized that beefing over a man wasn’t the right thing to do. After having a serious talk with her, Gamora opened up to you and understood that you and Peter truly loved each other. She even let you hug her before she walked out of your room, happy and relieved that she had gained another friend.

 Peter realized that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with when you got seriously hurt at a mission. You got shot in the shoulder and were losing a lot of blood. While you were trying your best to not lose consciousness, Peter had a mental breakdown as he couldn’t imagine life after your death.

 He carried you to the Milano while praying that you wouldn’t die. His eyes never left yours as he mumbled how much he loved you and wanted to marry you while your eyes began to flutter shut as the pain became too much while you continued losing a lot of blood.

 Luckily, Peter brought you to the nearest hospital on the next planet and the doctors were able to stop the bleeding. While you were unconscious, the guardians were so worried about you and hated to see Peter so lost and hurt. He never left your side and held your hand while promising you to never let you get hurt again.

 When you finally woke up, he pressed a sweet gentle kiss against your lips and let a few tears of joy roll down his cheek. “Marry me” he whispered after the doctor had finished checking up on you. You gasped as a smile crept onto your face. “I know that we’ve been together for eight months but [Y/N] I want to spend the rest of my life with you” he confessed and grinned when you weakly nodded your head.

 After that, you were released from the hospital and still couldn’t believe that you were engaged. You spent a following weeks recovering while trying to find a way to contact your friends and family on earth to share the great news.

 You kept yourself occupied whenever Peter and the team went on missions, thinking about how to plan your wedding. You shared your ideas and thoughts with Peter at night in your bed and loved the way his eyes sparkled. Peter loved everything you suggested, the only thing he wanted was to get to see you in a gorgeous dress while promising him to love him until death.

  Stage four: between ninth and twelfth month

  You and Peter decided to get married on earth. Besides the team, he had no one he wanted at his wedding, and knowing that you still had your friends and family on earth, he wanted you to have the perfect wedding. He was nervous to meet your parents a few days before the wedding, but luckily your parents loved him right away and saw the love he had for you in his eyes.

 Peter had to keep himself calm when your father hugged him and told him that he was now a part of the family. Tears brimmed his eyes as he felt so loved after avoiding being on earth after his mother’s death.

 “She would have been proud of you” your mother smiled after Peter told her the stories of how he saved numerous planets. Your hand was holding his tightly as you were so grateful to witness the special moment.

 The two of you got married on your one year anniversary. The ceremony was beautiful and everybody was in tears when you and Peter read your wedding vows to one another. A part of you still couldn’t believe how much had happened in a year but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

 Peter’s heart skipped a beat when he slipped the ring onto your finger while you stared lovingly into his eyes while mouthing “I love you so much”. He had experienced so much love and happiness in his life.

 The first kiss you shared as husband and wife was magical. Everybody stood up and cheered while you two poured your hearts into the kiss. Not long after that, everybody was eating drinking and dancing while you and Peter held hands and watched everybody have a good time. “I love so much [Y/N] Quill” Peter whispered before lifting your intertwined hands to his lips and kissing your knuckles gently.

 “I love you too Peter, so freaking much” you whispered and smiled once your husband leaned in and let his lips collide against yours.

A/N: I’ll happily accept Peter Quill/Chris Pratt requests from Tuesday on:)

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-Emma

[dazzlingfantasiesblogs]

Hurricane P36

Happy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. If under 18, kidnely un-follow me please! Heavy drinking, hospitalization. 

Notes: Oh shit..

Tags: @moodygrip @trippinjenni @jenny885

Pics and gifs are not mine 

You looked towards him, your inner self kept battling not knowing how to handle a conversation with Happy. He let your hand go and looked into your eyes. “The girls look like they where having fun..” He spoke calmly. “Yeah, like old times..”

Happy walked in the house and seen his apartment covered with three girls. One being his love. All of them in pajamas. Not sexy pajamas but all in some kind of character pajamas. Sammy in Napoleon Dynamite pajamas, Trina in Metallica pajamas and of course his love in her Pocahontas pajamas he had gotten her. “What the hell did I walk into?” He laughed watching the girls play video games. “Girls night babe, remember.. I told you last night after… you know?” “Babe you really can’t expect me to remember a conversation after being blissed out from sex.” Happy spoke walking over to you. He kissed your lips gently. He side hugged Sammy and Trina. “Well alright, I can head back to the dorms and let you girls have a night. It is like your teenagers.” “We did this often as teens.” Sammy laughed. Happy came back to you grabbing your face in his over sized hands, kissing you sweetly. “Here babe..” Happy grabbed his wallet taking out a few twenties. “Order a pizza on me..” “Hap I can afford..” “Thank you!” Sammy swiped the cash from his hand on her way to call the pizza place they always ordered from. “Well Thanks I guess babe. Your usually cheap.” You retorted. “Well since I save money on not buying condoms..” He whispered chuckling nodding bye to everyone and walked back out.

A few hours later he walked back in forgetting his charger. He walked into the three of you singing on the couch dancing. He laughed at all of you singing Cher. “DO you believe in life after love?!” you all belted at the top of your lungs. All of you dancing and singing to the whole song not noticing him. After it was done he whistled. You all collapsed laughing hard seeing Happy and Kozik standing there flabbergasted by you three. “Happy! Kozik!” The guys laughed and grabbed what they needed. “You three need a record deal!” Kozik taunted walking out.

Looking at Happy he looked tired, weak. You had not seen him this broken down in a long time. Not since he lost a brother back in Tacoma. “You look tired..” Was all you could say. A small hint of worry coated your voice unintentionally. “I have been up most nights, thinking of everything I did wrong… The sheer thought of everything causes me to fucking lose my mind..” He spoke sadly. “Lets go sit down..” He nodded following you to the curb. You both sat down on the edge of the curb. The streets of Charming where dead besides the loud booming of the SOA clubhouse. You both stretched out looking at the stars. You where unsure why you wanted to sit and talk under the stars, but you hoped it would clear the terrible tensions in your bones. Not to mention the alcohol in your system was giving you courage. He looked at your profile as you stared at the stars. “That haircut.. is amazing on you. Really suites you.. giving you that edgy vibe that you possess.” You looked to him with a smile. “Thanks Happy.” He nodded looking at the stars aswell. “I don’t love her.. I never did.. I should have came back to check on you all those years ago… I am so fucking selfish..” you couldn’t believe your ears. He was admitting that he was the one who did all the wrong. It was like he took what Kozik said years ago, days ago even and put it in his own words. “I love you Hurricane… I love you more than I love this club.. never did I think I would say that.. If your happy with Lorenzo.. I get it. He can give you so much more than I can.. He has money and he knows most about you.. I get it.” “Happy.” “I understand you and Kozik and him have a trio going like we used too.. I am not going to lie kinda jealous…” “Happy..” you tried to interrupt again. “I just.. hell even if you wanted us both… I would fight my instinct on killing him..” “LOWMAN!” you finally yelled. He looked at you stunned. “Wait did you say have you both?” you smirked. A few dirty thoughts crossing your mind. “I wasn’t thinking three way…” he grumbled. “I love you Happy, I do. I love you more than  some things in life.. however.. I keep getting burned over and over again and it never stops. The pain I felt when you left was bone crushing. Kozik picked me off the floor a drunken mess so many times. He was certain he was going to have to put me in rehab.. I drank and rarely ate… I even…” you looked down. “I was hospitalized once because I blacked out. Sammy and Trina came to check on me because Kozik was on a run. If I wasn’t for my girls… I’d be dead..” Happy looked at you shocked, his usually dark eyes, were wide and saddened even more. He put his head in his hands. The sheer image of you on the hospital bed, getting your stomach pumped hurt his very soul. “Kozik never told me..” He whispered. “How long was that after I left…?” you sighed a bit. “A year after…” “A year!” he looked a you shocked. “I probably took five to twenty years off my life from that year alone..” Happy gazed at you and grabbed your hand. “I am so.. so sorry Y/N L/N..” He grabbed your other hand and held it tightly. His tough hands holding yours tightly. He choked back a slight sob. The thought of you in the hospital was causing him to panic. Knowing he was the person who made you feel such pain. You felt his hands start to shake, his breath getting heavier. “Happ?” He looked at you and you could tell he was battling so hard with himself. “Happ?” you let his hands go and he went to grab you. To grasp reality. Slight terror crossed his face that you where leaving. Instead you stood up and repositioned your self to hold him in your arms and hug him tightly. “I am so sorry…” Happy looked down. “I am so so so sorry..” He kept mumbling.  You where unsure what to do. You wanted him to suffer, you wanted him to feel that pain. Maybe even be close to death from heart break, as terrible as it was. Seeing him like this though.. you knew you couldn’t let him be like this. “Y/N..” Kozik came around seeing you hug Happy. He looked down at his fellow brother and his sister. He knew both of them had been through hell and back together, mostly because of each other. His sister taking the grunt of it in the past when Happy left. Kozik so badly wanted to grab your hand and take you away from the situation and make Happy suffer like you did. To protect you all over again. Both of you thinking the same thing. He knew thought tha his brother was on edge by the look on his face he only seen once before when you were in the hospital. Happy looked to Kozik, begging him to leave with his eyes. Kozik turned leaving the two alone.’

“Happy I gotta go.. Gotta check on my girls.” “Five more minutes… who knows if I will ever feel my arms wrapped around you again..” He put his head in your neck. He ignored the hickie Lorenzo left on your neck, knowing he didn’t want to ruin the moment. He pressed a kiss to your neck, sending a jolt threw your body. He felt you freeze and then shiver slightly in his arms. Internally he groaned remembering how responsive your body was to his. He pressed one more near the hickie causing you to slightly moan out. You covered your mouth shooting up. “I wish you happiness..” was all you said as you sprinted into the club to look for Sammy and Trina.