#i really can't stop listening to some of them

[bloodnight-blaze]

“ kiss me under the mistletoe! ”

ft. xavier, zayne, rafayel, and sylus w a gn!reader.

synopsis: the holidays are long over, but that doesn't stop you from hanging up a mistletoe as an excuse to kiss your boyfriend.

notes: listen.... listen okay.... i can't wait until december to write this i have to get it out now.... lengths of each section may vary but i tried to keep it to an 8 paragraph maximum.

warnings: canon is vague so you decide, inaccurate timing of mistletoe i guess, very short and sweet and self-indulgent, just a lot of fluff and a lot of kissing, reader wears lipstick in raf's part bc i am desperate to cover that man in lipstick stains, zayne is a menace, sylus is also a menace, pet names used: cutie (r), sweetie (s).

XAVIER — is very confused when he wakes up from a nap to see mistletoe dangling in his face. Last he checked, it was the middle of January so he's fairly certain he didn't sleep the entire new year away. Though, it's not something that's entirely out of the question.

Behind the mistletoe he saw your smiling face, and you pull the plant away from him as he sits up, planting yourself right next to him and looking at him expectantly.

Xavier knew what the mistletoe meant, he just didn't quite understand why you were using it now, weeks after Christmas.

You don't seem at all concerned by the timing of this, just smiling at his confusion and raising the mistletoe up a bit as you speak, "This is the part where you kiss me, y'know,"

And while he might have some questions, he's never been one to deny you what you want.

A small huff of amusement, and then he's leaning in and pressing a soft kiss against your lips. You eagerly kissed back, barely able to contain the giddy smile on your face when the kiss breaks.

The smile on your face, coupled with the look of satisfaction in your gaze has him pulling you onto his lap, pressing a few more quick kisses to your lips before he's burying his face in your shoulder and letting out a small sigh.

His heart felt so warm, and even though he just woke up from a nap, he wouldn't mind falling back asleep like this. Which is exactly what he plans on doing, by the way, so any plans you had after your silly little idea are immediately canceled.

ZAYNE — would pretend not to notice it at first. He's not being mean, he just thinks the little frustrated pout you get when he acts like the mistletoe has always been there is cute, so he can't help himself. He's also curious to see just how far you'd go to get a kiss from him without having to ask.

It even becomes a game, of sorts, with Zayne sometimes acting as though he'd finally kiss you when standing under the mistletoe only to instead pat your head or press a kiss to your cheek.

You took his teasing as a challenge, and soon enough you somehow hung up mistletoe in all of the doorways in both your home and his. You even went as far as to hang one in the doorway of his office at the hospital.

A few of his coworkers had questioned him about it, and he couldn't stop the look of fondness that bleeds through his usual calm and collected demeanor, simply telling them that it wasn't any of their concern.

It all coalesces one night, maybe two or three weeks into trying to get a kiss under the mistletoe with him. He showed up at your apartment with dinner only to find you sitting at the kitchen counter, all the mistletoe you had put up set in a pile. Your arms were crossed, and you were glaring down at the plants as if they'd insulted you in some way.

"I give up," You say, a bit dejected. And Zayne feels a bit bad, admittedly, as he sets your dinner on the counter next to all the mistletoe. He doesn't really understand why you're trying to get an excuse to kiss him when you can just do it, but he'll humor you.

With a small sigh, he grabs one of the mistletoes and dangles it above your head. It's enough to get you to perk up, and you brighten immediately when he presses a kiss to your lips. It was quick, and when he pulled away, he mutters a soft, "Satisfied?"

"Hardly," You exhaled, but he covered your mouth with his hand before you could kiss him again, his lips quirking up in a slight smile at the frustrated sound that comes from you. You weren't getting anymore kisses until you ate dinner, no matter how pretty you looked with your puppy-dog eyes.

RAFAYEL — probably wouldn't even realize you had put mistletoe in the entryway of his home. At the very least, when he does notice it, he'll be far more interested in figuring out what shades of pant he could make with the plant rather than anything else.

You can't say you're shocked when you hurry back to his place after running a quick errand to find him crushing the mistletoe. You curse yourself for not buying a backup in case this scenario happened, but there wasn't much you could do.

That doesn't mean you were any less determined, however. The mistletoe may not longer be a plant, but it was in the paint he was making, and therefore the rules still applied, so.

Deciding to be patient, you would wait until Rafayel actually used the paint to make your move. The painting hung on his wall proudly when it was finished, a satisfied smile on his face as he watched you admire it for a few moments, "So? Would you say this is my new masterpiece, cutie?"

And you feign deep thought for a moment before you pull him down into a kiss. It wasn't heated, but it did last for a good second before you pulled away. Bewilderment in his eyes and a pretty blush dusting his ears and cheeks, you smile and simply nod to the painting on the wall, "Mistletoe."

It takes him a few moments to process your word, and his brows furrow slightly, "It's not even December," He says, though he certainly wasn't complaining when you pull him in for another kiss.

You kiss him until his face is covered in lipstick stains, and your lipstick was smeared. His breaths came out in small pants, a dazed look in his eyes when you finally pull away.

"...You're trying to kill me," He quietly accuses after catching his breath, and you can only laugh.

SYLUS — is rather amused when he steps into your apartment to see a thing of mistletoe dangling in the entranceway. He knew you were planning something from the moment you told him to stop by your place.

His amusement only grows when he sees you standing under the mistletoe, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible as he takes his jacket and shoes off. He doesn't need to ask questions, he's not a fool.

The mistletoe was there for a reason, one so glaringly obvious he couldn't help but feel a bit smug knowing that you were trying to find sneaky ways to kiss him. He was flattered, truly, but you didn't need to go to such lengths.

His hands were on your waist in an instant, and you don't miss the gleam in his eyes as he looks at you. Oh, he was never going to let you forget about this moment, and you were half tempted to pull away before he could get the chance to actually kiss you.

His lips capture yours before you can actually distance yourself from him, and it was much more gentle than you were probably expecting it to be. He kissed you like a man dying of thirst, and yet he controlled himself enough to not make you uncomfortable.

"You don't need to use a plant to kiss me, sweetie," He murmurs against your skin after breaking the kiss, instead taking to pressing light kisses against your jaw and neck.

The attention had your mind faltering for just a moment, and you grumble out a quiet 'whatever' before lightly pushing him away from you. You had to cover his mouth with your hand just to get him to stop kissing you. Not that it worked, because he just presses one against your palm, his gaze never leaving yours.

You're the one who wanted a kiss, even going as far as to bringing out mistletoe in the middle of January to achieve your goal. He's just simply giving you what you were asking for.

[gothcsz]

El Cumpleañero | Javier Peña x F!Reader | ~8.3k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: It's Javier's birthday, so you show up to his party and things get fun.

Tags: friends with benefits dynamic, jealous!javi (can't help myself), flirting, dancing, javi is a little ooc here but idgaf i need him (in my head he's a bit younger in this au), some untranslated spanish, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), back shots for days, a lil bit of exhibitionism on javi's part, creampie, one use of a degrading term (slut), some dirty talk, pussy pronouns, facial, no use of y/n, reader is afab and able-bodied, little to no physical descriptions of reader, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay, thanks!

A/N: hiiii everyone! this is my humble submission to @yxtkiwiyxt's never have i ever challenge with my prompt being never have i ever woken someone else because i was too loud during sex 🙈 kiwi bb tysm for hosting such a lovely writing challenge for us, i hope you enjoy this smutty fic! oh, and i am dedicating this one to @letsmeetintheafterglow, amorcito, you left such me a juicy request in my inbox for javi that i just had to write! so, i merged it with the challenge prompt 🖤 hope you dream of him tambien ☁️ also, i couldn't help but project my fantasy of wanting to dance to corrido/banda music with javier. i feel like he's actually a pretty good dancer! swinging ya around to the beat of the song with his hand at your lower back and a modelo in the other. ugh. the song la niña fresa basically inspired the nickname javi calls reader 🍓 and just sets the vibes, i think. as always, let me know that you think and thank you for reading 🖤

The backyard is buzzing with the chatter and laughter of what feels like half the town, the smoky scent of barbecue wafting through the air and the twang of a corrido blasting from oversized speakers, making the ground shake.

You walk through the fenced yard, the southern breeze grazing your skin as familiar faces nod or wave in passing. Your eyes scan the crowd, skimming past clusters of people dancing and conversing, all of them gathered to celebrate someone who swore he didn’t want a fuss.

Of course his family didn’t listen. They turned his “keep it small” request into a blowout, like they always do, inviting anyone and everyone. Not that he could stay mad—he never really does.

When you spot the man of the hour, the corner of your lips lift instinctively and your feet seem to move on their own accord, pulling you toward him.

He’s by the bonfire, the glow of the flames painting his chiseled features in shades of gold and shadow. He stands with his hip jutting out, a cigarette balanced between his fingers, sharing it lazily with two girls you barely recognize.

They hang on to his every little move, trying to soak up whatever attention he might spare. It’s a scene you’ve witnessed too many times, and you really can’t blame them.

You’ve been in their shoes (still are, truth be told), waiting for even a flicker of his focus to land on you, and you know all too well where that desperation led.

To his bed, on his tongue, his cock—you shiver at the memory, your nipples pulling taut.

He’s the kind of man who doesn’t have to try to make hearts ache; it’s just who he is.

A walking daydream wrapped in leather and indifference, with that devil-may-care grin that promises trouble and delivers every time.

You roll your eyes and huff sassily, detouring toward one of the coolers instead. You grab a drink, making polite small talk with a couple of acquaintances, though you can’t keep your gaze from wandering back to him.

He’s already looking at you.

It stops you mid-sentence the way his brown eyes are fixed on you, heavy with intention.

The cigarette is at his lips, the faint glow of its cherry pulses when he sucks in then lets out a ribbon of smoke. 

He makes it look so damn hot, it’s almost enough to persuade you into picking up the bad habit.

The curly haired beauty next to him is chattering a mile a minute, but it’s clear he isn’t listening.

His focus remains locked on you, sweeping slowly—mischievously—down the length of your body. You can feel it, as sure as a touch, lingering at the deep neckline of your sweater then on the way your jeans hug your curves. It’s shameless, but that’s him, isn’t it?

Your smile tilts into a puckish smirk. Lifting your hand, you wiggle your fingers in a small wave.

It’s like striking a match. His gaze narrows slightly as if he’s trying to decide his next move.

He hands off the cigarette with a casual flick of his wrist and shifts his focus back to the girl beside him. She’s still rambling, her words tumbling over each other in an eager attempt to hold his attention.

He doesn’t bother pretending to care. Instead, he lets out an indulgent chuckle, shaking his head like whatever nonsense just came out of her mouth is equal parts adorable and absurd.

You almost feel bad for her. It’s hard not to fall for that sleazy charm—especially when it’s attached to a man so fucking handsome.

When she swivels to chat with her friend, his eyes immediately find yours again. A cocky expression paints his countenance, one that practically asks: What the hell are you doing all the way over there?

You entertain the idea of making him wait, savoring the power in holding his attention hostage for just a moment longer. But who are you kidding? The magnetic pull he has over you is impossible to resist. It always is.

The small box tucked snugly in the back pocket of your jeans presses against you as you weave through the crowd, sidestepping a few overly tipsy guests and slipping past the fold-out tables scattered across the lawn. 

“Hey,” you say, sliding yourself effortlessly between the two girls, not caring about interrupting their conversation. Immediately, their sharp side-eyes practically stab you with twin daggers of irritation.

You don’t flinch. You’re not here for them, anyway.

You only care about the pair of deep brown eyes that make you feel like you’re the only person in the world when he looks at you. “Happy Birthday, Javier.”

A flicker of what looks like smugness and amusement crosses his face as he licks his lips, taking another measured drag.

He’s dressed in a variant of his signature look—a white button-up with a few buttons let loose to show off his neck and the top of his chest, despite the brisk autumn air, and a worn brown leather jacket accentuating his broad shoulders.

However, it’s the ridiculous tiara perched atop his head that catches your eye, and the sight makes you frown ever so slightly when you notice the matching glittery ones on his groupies, like it’s some inside joke you’re not a part of.

For some inexplicable reason—it rubs you the wrong way. You can’t believe you’re slightly jealous of it. How stupid.

“Thank you, fresita.” 

Ugh, that infuriating nickname. You’d been charmed by it at first, assuming it was something sweet and impish. It wasn’t until Chucho let it slip that it’s also used to describe a woman that’s spoiled and picky that you realized it wasn’t just affectionate; it was also dig at your finer tastes.

And so what if you are a little high maintenance?

You don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, even though he loves coaxing it out of you. Instead, you tilt your head slightly, letting a soft undercurrent of flirtation lace your voice as you ask, “Mind if I pull you aside? I’d like to give you your gift.”

His interest is evident in the way his brow raises and the girls bristle slightly, their expressions shifting to thinly veiled jealousy once they realize he’s no longer focused on them. You captured him the moment he saw you amidst the crowd.

“We were just finishin’ up,” Javi says casually, dropping the cigarette and crushing it beneath his boot. He flicks a glance at the two disappointed faces, his smirk widening. “Con permiso, chicas. Thanks for the smoke.”

As he steps away from them, you feel a little triumphant thrill surge in your chest. They look deflated, their pouty expressions almost comical as they watch him leave with you, muttering goodbyes under their breaths.

The curly haired woman stares you down, and you try not to let the smug victory of whisking him away be too obvious… though you can’t help but smile condescendingly before fully turning away. 

“Some fan club you’ve got,” you tease once the two of you are finally alone, near the entrance of the sun room that’s a part of the house.

He smirks, leaning against the siding and tilting his head, once more eyeing you down like you’re the finest thing he’s ever seen. “You jealous?” 

You scoff, shaking your head in mock disbelief. “Absolutely not.” It’s a little white lie, since you had felt a twinge of that pesky envy, but you don’t want him to know that. He’d either give you shit for it, or on the more extreme end, rethink this arrangement he currently has with you.

And you’d rather not lose it. Not right now, at least. You’re having too much fun letting Javier fuck your brains out on a consistent basis. 

Slowly, you close the space between you, your fingers darting up to flick the tacky tiara perched on his head. “Cute.”

Before you can step back, his hands are on you—big and warm as they grip your waist and pull you flush against his chest.

The force of it has you sighing out in satisfaction. There’s something wholly fucking addictive about the way he handles you.

His hands know exactly where to place themselves, his fingers applying the perfect amount of pressure to set the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy.

“No need to be, baby. You know you’re my favorite.” If your friends knew you were hooking up with the town slut, they’d definitely stage an intervention before you could finish your next sentence. Laying out all the reasons why letting Javier Peña into your bed was a one-way ticket to heartbreak city.

They’d call it desperation. They’d call it lowering your standards.

But what they don’t know is that standards start to feel awfully overrated when Javier has you pinned to a mattress, whispering filthy promises in your ear as his hands map every inch of your body. They don’t know what it’s like to have his full attention—his lips trailing worshipful kisses down your skin, his gravelly voice murmuring sweet nothings in Spanish that you don’t fully understand from how he slurs them together but feel all the same.

Being around him is electric, intoxicating, a high you’re not quite ready to give up.

So no, your friends don’t know. And as long as you can keep this thing between you and Javier your little secret, they never will.

“You gonna let me unwrap my gift or what?” His hand slides lower to cup your right cheek with shameless familiarity, giving it a frisky spank that makes you giggle.

This man and his obsession with your ass—it’s borderline ridiculous, and yet, you’re absolutely here for it.

“Later, maybe,” you reply with faux coyness, your finger dragging along his mustache then over to his pouty lips. He purses them, placing a kiss to the tip of your finger, “if you’re not too busy.”

His hold on your backside tightens, voice morphing into something more sultry, raspier, which is your absolute weakness. It makes your thighs rub together. “You know I always make time for you.”

You laugh softly at that. More often than not, you’re the one initiating while he only reaches out when it suits him. It’s not ideal at times, but you don’t get hung up on it.

You’re not about to ruin this by asking more of someone who doesn’t have it in him.

You reach back and pull the small box from your pocket. “Here’s your real gift,” you say, holding it out to him. Your voice softens, but there’s still a playful inflection. “Hope you like it.”

Curiosity fills those dark eyes as he takes the box, eyeing the tacky birthday wrapping paper with a soft smile. The sight of that grin on his face has your eyes morphing into hearts.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know,” you reply with a shrug. “But I saw it at the thrift store and just knew it had to go to you.”

You angle yourself to press a light kiss to the tip of his chin, your lips brushing against the stubble before you nip at it gently with your teeth. “Open it.”

His nimble fingers pull apart the crinkled folds of the wrapping paper to reveal the small box inside. When he opens it, you see his immediate delight, and your heart does a traitorous little flip.

The golden chain bracelet glints under the string lights strung along the roof’s edge, somehow making it look nicer out here than how it had been displayed at the store.

“Damn, this is nice,” he says, genuinely appreciative. The praise sends a faint thrill up your spine, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you watch him lift the bracelet out of the box to inspect it.

You’ve imagined how good the gold would look while his wrist is flexing as he grips your thighs, holding you open for him. Or when he’s feeling you up, rough and greedy, fingers digging into your soft hips as he takes your pussy how he wants.

“Put it on,” he holds his wrist and the bracelet out toward you. His tone carries that easy confidence, like he already knows you’ll obey without question.

Which you do, obviously. You carefully clasp it around his wrist, your fingers brushing his skin as you secure it, and that little brush feels like you’ve just snorted a line of adrenaline with how amped up your body gets.

“Looks good on you,” you admire your handiwork, though the truth is; he’d make anything look good. Even a paper crown. Or, you know, a tacky tiara.

“Gracias, fresita,” he replies smoothly, that familiar nickname rolling off his tongue.

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”

“Nah.”

Before you can come up with a witty retort, he pulls you against him again, One hand at your lower back, the other tucked into the back pocket of your jeans. His lips capture yours in a kiss that’s eager and completely unapologetic.

“Easy there, birthday boy—”

“Can’t help it,” he cuts you off, his voice rough against your lips. “Been waiting for you to show up all night.”

You can’t help but chase after that tasty mouth of his, your tongue licking against his, teeth biting into his lower lip and the slight tickle of his mustache makes you shiver. Then his hips grind against your thigh, his erection prominent which in turn has heat flaring all over your body. 

“Let’s go inside,” he breaks away, tugging you toward the small steps leading into the sunroom.

You weren’t expecting to fuck him so early on in the night but you’re not about to complain about it. Every fiber of your body yearns for this man—but specifically your cunt. She’s obsessed.

The room looks like it’s in the middle of a renovation—a man cave in progress.

One wall boasts an unfinished bar, complete with half-empty bottles and shot glasses scattered across the surface. A brand-new pool table sits in the center of the room, its felt pristine, untouched by drunken games or spilled drinks. 

At the far end, a set of leather couches and a recliner face the large television set and entertainment center.

The double doors to the house are shut tight, leaving the room dim and private, save for the warmness of the string lights spilling in through the windows.

You’re caught up taking it all in when Javier sneaks up behind you, pressing hot, greedy kisses against your neck as his hands roam your body.

There’s nothing tentative about his touch—he cups your tits with both hands, squeezing them over your sweater as a deep groan rumbles in his throat. His need for you is palpable, a force that makes your knees weak even as he maneuvers you toward the pool table.

“Here, Javi?” you pant when he sucks at your weak spot under your jaw. “Let’s just go up to your room—”

“No,” he growls, spinning you around to face him, his dark eyes alight with lust. “Want you right here on this table.”

Before you can argue, his lips are on yours again. You let yourself melt into it, your hands reaching up to pluck the ridiculous tiara off his head and tossing it aside with a flick of your wrist.

His hair is soft under your fingers as you card through it, tugging lightly just to feel the way his body reacts, the way his kisses deepen in response.

When his tongue slides into your mouth, you surprise even yourself by wrapping your lips around it, sucking gently. You’re greedy and he loves it.

Javier’s grunt prompts your thighs to clench instinctively around him. His jacket hits the floor as he shrugs it off, lips trailing down your neck. You kick off your boots, his hands lifting you with ease to place you on the sturdy pool table.

Your sweater is gone before you know it. He’s in the middle of working on the button of your jeans, his fingers deft and impatient, when your eyes land on something that makes you freeze.

Or better yet, someone. There’s a figure slumped in one of the recliners at the far end of the room.

Your breath hitches, your body tensing. “Javi, stop.” Your words falter into a moan as his lips find your collarbone, sucking on your skin.

“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, barely pausing as he tugs your pants down your hips. Despite yourself, you lift slightly to help him, even as you frantically nudge your head toward the recliner.

“There’s someone here,” you whisper.

He stops, his head snapping up to follow your gaze. His expression shifts into a frustrated scowl when he sees the figure sprawled in the chair. “Goddamnit,” he mutters, reluctantly pulling away from you and heading over to investigate.

You watch as he approaches, his boots heavy on the hardwood. It’s his cousin Danny, completely passed out, his head lolling to the side and his mouth hanging open. Javier whistles sharply, snapping his fingers in front of his face. Nothing. He gives his shoulder a firm nudge once, twice—still nothing.

“Out cold,” Javier says, his tone both annoyed and amused as he turns back to you. “Took down almost a whole bottle of tequila earlier. He’s not gonna bother us.”

You hesitate, your eyes darting to the unconscious form. The idea of hooking up with someone uninvited in the room feels... complicated… exhilarating, maybe? You’ve never done it before.

But your reluctance evaporates the moment Javier closes the distance between you again, his hands sliding your jeans clean off, leaving you in nothing but your mismatched bra and panties.

He drinks you in, and the rest of the party—including the slumped figure in the corner—melts away under the weight of his attention.

No words are needed, not when he roughly tugs the cups of your bra down, letting your breasts spill free, nor when he dips his head, his stubble grazing your skin as his warm mouth captures one of your nipples.

Your breath catches, back arching your breasts into his warm, wet mouth. His tongue lazily circles and flicks over the hardened bud. Then he sucks harder, pulling a drawn-out moan from you before switching to the other side.

You bite your lip, determined to stifle the sighs of pleasure threatening to break. His knocked out cousin in the corner keeps you cautious, even as your body aches to let go.

Javier notices. Always does. He pulls away with a pop, a thin string of saliva connecting his pouty lips to your nipple. “Nu-uh,” he chides. “Don’t hold back.”

“I’m not trying to wake him up,” you counter, though your voice wavers from how good his mouth felt.

“You won’t,” he replies, almost dismissively, giving you a peck on the lips before he drops to his knees before you. He starts at your calves, leaving slow, deliberate kisses that send sparks dancing along your skin.

The faint scrape of his facial hair adds to the wonderful torment as his mouth works its way up, switching from leg to leg.

When he reaches the inside of your right knee, he kisses it almost sweetly, before dragging his tongue slowly in a hot stripe up to your inner thigh. You can’t stop the small shiver that ripples through you, your hands gripping the edge of the pool table for balance.

Javier finally reaches your pussy and you shudder as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your clothed clit. The heat of his breath and the firm pressure of his lips through the cotton of your panties makes your back arch.

He hooks a finger into the fabric and pulls it to the side, diving in immediately. His tongue parts your folds, curling and slithering against your pearly clit before moving lower.

“Fuck,” you sigh, your hips bucking involuntarily, pressing yourself harder against his mouth.

He groans, enjoying how reactive you are, his fingers digging into the soft meat of your thighs while he holds you firmly in place. His mouth works with a singular focus, his tongue swirling and dipping into your entrance, then sliding back up to flick over your clit.

The feeling of his stupid mustache makes it that much better, scratching at your cunt lusciously. 

You can’t help it now—a soft, keening moan slips out of you, echoing faintly in the dimly lit room. Your head lolls around on your shoulders as pleasure coils at the pit of your stomach, the tension winding tighter with each stroke of his tongue.

“That’s it,” he practically purrs. “Let me hear you.”

His lips seal around your clit, sucking gently, and you swear it feels like you’ve been possessed—holding back is impossible. Another moan escapes you, louder this time, your thighs shaking in his grip as he devours you.

Javi pushes you over the edge so effortlessly that a cry of his name spits out of your throat before you can stop it, cutting through the room.

You're grateful this area of the house is directed away from the backyard, where the party celebrating him outside continues on, oblivious of his absence as he indulges in you.

Your orgasm settles like a heavy current, fingers nearly going numb from holding on to the pool table for dear life.

You’re still disoriented and flustered when Javier stands, looming over you, cupping the back of your head and bringing you in to passionately make out.

His mouth is coated in your tangy essence, making you taste yourself as he slips his tongue down your throat.

You whimper, clawing at his chest for more and he pulls away to turn you around, manhandling you onto your stomach on the table.

His hands are firm yet impatient as he grips one of your legs by the back of your knee and hooks it over the edge of the wooden border.

Javi stares down at your sex, partially exposed and glistening for him. Your panties are askew, one swollen pussy lip peeking out while a dark, damp patch spreads over the cotton where his tongue had devoured you moments ago.

“Fuck.” The lewd sight has him hastily undoing his belt and popping the button on his jeans, his dick hard and ready to bury himself inside your sweet cunt. 

Propping yourself up on your palms, you glance back at him over your shoulder, a teasing, blissed out smile playing on your lips despite the burning heat between your thighs. “I figured you’d want to savor me. Wait for later…” you coo, rolling your hips and causing your ass to jiggle, feeling giddy at how his eyes zero in on the motion.

“I savor you all the time, baby. Even during these nasty, quick fucks.” Him saying that has you over the fucking moon. “You can’t expect me to wait knowin’ this pussy needs me to fuck her real good.”

The hand adorned with your golden bracelet grabs your supple ass, kneading the flesh before landing a stinging spank that makes you jolt and let out a cry. The sharp sound echoes, making your eyes flick nervously toward the recliner where his cousin still lies, unaware of the debauchery happening mere feet away.

Javier seems completely unbothered, casually toying with your panties as though you have all the time in the world. He hooks his finger into the soaked fabric, dragging it back and forth against your sticky folds, smearing your slick across your pussy lips.

Your hips move on their own, chasing the friction, and you bite your lip hard, trapping the needy moan building in your throat.

“Can I come over later?”

His question is so nonchalant it nearly makes you laugh, but the way he teases you has you too far gone to do so. You grind back against his touch, desperate for more, your lips parting in a breathy moan.

“Yes.” The thought of him showing up at your doorstep at three in the morning, bourbon on his lips, just for you to sink to your knees and take him down your throat makes your pussy clench around nothing, crying out for his cock as more of your arousal leaks against your panties. “Whenever.”

He hums in satisfaction, stepping closer and reaching for your jaw, tilting your head to the side roughly and meeting you for a kiss. The fabric of his shirt grazes your bare skin and he tugs your panties to the side again while his mouth continues to hold yours captive.

His cock nudges against your waiting entrance, teasing, the flushed head dragging over the fleshy cleft of your clit in languid taps.

When he finally pushes in, there’s no preamble—just the yummy stretch of him filling you to the fucking brim, shoving a strangled whine out of your mouth as he sets a brutal pace immediately, not giving you even a moment to adjust.

Your palms slip against the velvet of the pool table as you struggle to hold yourself up, but it’s no use. The force of his thrusts sends you collapsing forward onto your chest, scattering the neatly racked pool balls across the table.

They clatter and roll in all directions, but Javier doesn’t slow for a second. His grip on your waist tightens, forcing you to fuck yourself back on his dick.

“Shit,” he growls hoarsely, already breathless as he watches your ass bounce with every stroke. “You’re makin’ a loud fuckin’ mess,” he hisses, though there’s no real malice there—just straight horniness.

In one smooth motion, he grabs both your wrists with one large hand, pinning them to your lower back. He then angles your pelvis so that your clit is grinding against the smooth wooden border of the pool table while your tender nipples rub against the green felt.

The effects of that are immediate, your body feeling like it’s burning from the inside out. “Mmm, fuck yeah, keep doing that,” you moan desperately. 

The raunchy sound of your ass clapping against his thighs fills the room, a filthy rhythm accompanied by the feeling of his heavy balls brushing against your cunt. 

The noise feels impossibly loud, your whimpers and his grunts reverberating off the walls. Surely, his cousin will wake up—surely, someone will walk in on the shameless display Javier is putting on with your body.

Or maybe not, since Javier keeps fucking you all hot and wanton, especially when he hits your sweet spot and your ribbed, gushy walls hug around his dick like a vice.

Your forehead presses against the table as you chant his name, your vision swimming.

You try to glance toward the recliner where his cousin is passed out, but your eyes can’t focus. Everything’s a blur—two of everything, indistinct shapes swimming in the haze of your arousal.

The only thing you can truly focus on is Javier: the way his cock breaches your most intimate spaces, the heat of his body against yours, the sharp bite of his belt against the backs of your thighs.

You’re soaking him, ruining the hem of his half-buttoned shirt. But you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when he’s splitting you open so perfectly, his tight grip on your wrists keeping you pinned and utterly open for him to take.

Your sore clit continues to rub against the smooth wood of the table, now sticky from how shamelessly you’ve been humping against it while chasing your pleasure.

Between the stimulation on your clit, the rough scrape of the felt against your tender nipples, and the relentless pounding of his shaft brushing your g-spot—it’s all too much. 

Your body trembles, a loud cry ripping from your throat as your orgasm slams into you.

"Javi!" you spasm in his hold, nails digging into your palms as your wrists remain trapped beneath his firm grip. shoulders burning from his rough hold.

Your pussy clamps hard around him, wet and creamy as you come, soaking his cock and leaving no doubt about how thoroughly he fucked you.

Javier curses through gritted teeth, switching between Spanish and English as he ruts into you, his rhythm stuttering. “Fuck, fresita, you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight—just like that.”

He doesn’t falter, fucking you even as your orgasm settles over you like a heavy current.

He hauls you upright, pulling your back flush against his chest, his grip on your wrists unrelenting as he traps them between your bodies.

Both of his arms wrap tightly around your trembling frame, one hand sliding up to grab your tit, kneading it roughly while the other sprawls against your stomach and waist to hold you steady as he fucks up into you.

His mouth is at your ear now, his breath ragged. “Gonna bust inside this pretty pussy baby and you’re gonna let me, aren’t you?”

You nod weakly, biting down on your lip as your eyes flutter shut. “So fuckin’ willing to take my cum like a real slut,” the degrading name makes your clit twitch because he’s right—you are a real slut. Only for him. Always hungry and ready to please, to do anything to satisfy him and he knows it.

“You’re so goddamn perfect—fuck.” His hips jerk a few times before he groans deeply, his cock pulsing as he finishes deep inside you, his hold on your body tightening to the point where you wince but it hurts so good.

“What the fuck?”

The sharp voice cuts through the haze, yanking you back to reality. Your eyes snap open, and panic floods your system as you instinctively try to shield your almost-naked body.

Across the room, Danny sits up in the recliner, his hair a mess and his bleary eyes squinting in confusion. He looks like he’s been rudely yanked out of a drunken slumber, and unfortunately, it’s your fault.

Javier, of course, remains maddeningly calm. “Relax,” his voice still thick with that post-climax rasp as he mumbles in your ear.

Meanwhile, your body is burning—part embarrassment, part leftover heat from the sinful things Javier just did to you on this pool table.

You try to wriggle out of his grip, but his arms are like iron bands, keeping you firmly in place.

Danny rubs at his eyes, blinking hard as if trying to process what’s in front of him. His head tilts slightly, and for one horrifying second, you think he’s piecing it all together. But instead, he suddenly leans over the side of the recliner and starts retching, the sound loud and wet as he empties his stomach onto the carpet.

The sharp, acidic stench of vomit hits the air, mixing unpleasantly with the heady scent of sweat and sex. It’s enough to finally get Javier to loosen his hold.

He pulls out of you with a grunt, leaving you aching and exposed, and you both watch as his release starts to spill out of you, trickling over your swollen folds and dripping onto the table with obscene little plops.

But there’s no time to dwell on the mess. You scramble to grab your clothes, your movements frantic and clumsy as you yank your jeans up your legs and shove your arms into your sweater.

Javier’s doing the same, though far less hurried, like he’s still amused by the whole situation.

When you finally look up at him, his dark eyes are sparkling with mischief, and he throws you a roguish grin that almost makes you laugh despite yourself.

Danny, meanwhile, is still groaning and gagging, his face pale as a sheet. You feel a tiny pang of guilt, but before you can even think about offering help, Javier grabs your hand and tugs you toward the door.

“Aren’t you going to help him?” you whisper, trying to keep your voice low.

“Fuck no,” Javier replies without missing a beat. “Not my fault he couldn’t handle his liquor.”

He presses a kiss to the back of your hand, his lips warm and soft against your skin, and you can’t help but follow him.

You glance back over your shoulder as you’re being pulled toward the backyard, unable to stop yourself from throwing out a half-hearted, “Sorry!”

He doesn’t respond—he’s too busy dry heaving—but you and Javier are already sneaking out, stifling your laughter as the sounds of the party grow louder around you.

The music thrums through the air, its infectious rhythm pulling you in as your dance partner tightens his grip on your waist. His hands are firm, guiding you with confidence, but the musky cologne mixed with the sour tang of sweat is enough to make your nose crinkle if you focus too hard on it.

Still, you’re here out of spite, letting the sway of your hips speak louder than words as your body molds to his. The banda song carries you both across the makeshift dance floor, your movements fluid and natural as though the music itself has taken over.

Javier is just a few paces away, entangled with the curly-haired girl from earlier. His hands rest on her lower back, his body moving with ease. 

There’s a playful challenge in both of your eyes when your gazes finally meet, knowing how this little game of yours will end. 

Neither of you looks away, both determined to outdo the other, even in this small, ridiculous way.

Your dance partner spins you abruptly, breaking the moment. The move is smooth, you’ll give him that, and you find yourself face-to-face with him once again.

He’s not bad looking, honestly—sharp jawline, nice green eyes—but the cologne is killing the vibe, and his wandering hands are starting to push it.

Thankfully, the song winds to a close just as his fingers inch a little too far down your back. The music shifts, a different tune kicking in, and you step back, offering a polite smile as he thanks you for the dance.

“Got a number I can save?” he asks, hopeful and slightly cocky.

You grin, a little too sweetly, and rattle off your number without hesitation. You’ve got no intention of responding if he uses it, but you can’t resist the temptation to stir the pot. As he finally walks away, you feel it—a scorching stare burning into your back.

You don’t even have to look to know who it’s coming from.

“Baila conmigo.”

The familiar rasp of Javier’s voice cuts through the noise as he steps into your space. He takes a swig of his beer, his leather jacket gone, leaving him in just the white button-up that hugs his chest a little too well.

You cock a brow, crossing your arms. “What happened to your dance partner?”

“Sent her away,” he replies easily, his smirk infuriatingly smug. “Poor girl couldn’t catch the rhythm.”

You let out an amused huff, rolling your eyes. Of course, he’d say that. Before you can think better of it, you take his hand, allowing him to lead you toward la pista.

The moment you’re there, he pulls you flush against him, one large hand settling at your lower back while the other still clutches his beer. You fall into the simple two-step with ease, your bodies moving in perfect sync to the music. 

His thigh slots between yours, the friction sparking something electric, and you can’t help but press closer, your breaths mingling in the intimate space between you.

“Reminds me of that night at the club,” his lips brushing your ear. It’s a miracle you can still hear him over the loud music. “When you finally let me get between those pretty legs.”

The heat in his words, combined with the faint scent of his cologne and the alcohol on his breath, floods your senses. He smells and feels like everything your last dance partner wasn’t.

Whistles and cheers ripple through the crowd as you and Javi throw yourselves into the rhythm of the song, your bodies moving like two parts of the same melody.

You hadn’t expected him to be such a good dancer the first time you shared a dance—not until that night at the club. 

And just like his dancing, the way he fucked you afterward had blown every expectation out of the water.

The song comes to an end, leaving you both flushed and slightly winded, sweat clinging to your skin despite the cool night air. The cheers die down as a new track begins, and Javi’s lips quirk into a lopsided grin.

“C’mon, give me another one,” he urges, his voice still rich and sensual despite the exertion.

You laugh, shaking your head as you step back, hands on your hips. You hadn’t planned to stay this long, and now your body is screaming for mercy. “Raincheck, handsome. I gotta head home.”

Javi’s grin falters slightly, but it doesn’t fade completely as your hand drifts down his chest, fingers savoring the firmness of his body.

His broad shoulders and toned frame are just so enchanting, and you can’t resist indulging one last time before grabbing his beer. You take a long, slow sip, your eyes flicking up to meet his as you drain the bottle and set it aside on one of the plastic fold-out tables.

“Not gonna stick around for the cake?” he asks, that boyish charm in his tone as he steps closer.

You flash him a flirty smile. “Save me a piece.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but the rowdy chaos of his friends and cousins cuts him off. They swarm him, loud and eager, tugging at his shoulders and shouting for him to take another shot.

He laughs, but his gaze finds yours through the crowd, his warm brown eyes locking on to you one last time.

“Enjoy, Javi,” you tell him with a wink. “You know where to find me.”

That familiar smirk is at his lips as he’s pulled toward the makeshift bar. You watch him for a moment before turning to make your departure.

You’re cutting across the lawn when you hear a voice behind you.

“Need a ride home?”

It’s the guy you danced with earlier, his cologne still potent even in the open air. His gentlemanliness would’ve been charming if it weren’t for the obvious expectation in his tone.

You decline politely, offering a quick smile before brushing past him and unlocking your car.

What you don’t realize is that Javi sees the entire exchange from afar. He’d caught the tail end of the guy trailing after you, his gaze narrowing as he watched you disappear into the sea of parked cars.

A flicker of irritation tugged at his expression, but he stayed rooted to his spot, letting his friends push another shot into his hand.

Instead of following, he threw himself into his own celebration, his laugh loud and boisterous as if he hadn’t seen a damn thing. But he couldn’t stop thinking about you leaving with that guy, and the glint in his eyes that had been so bright when you were there dulled just slightly. 

Still, he let it go, for now.

He knew exactly where to find you, after all.

“Oh my god,” you mewl, your back arching against the cold tile of your kitchen floor. Javier thrusts into you with a raw, animalistic need, his cock driving so deep inside you that it feels like he’s carving himself into your very being.

The absurdity of the situation is a bit funny—you’re still fully clothed, minus your sleeping shorts having been thrown haphazardly across the room, a stark contrast to earlier when you’d been bare and spread for him on that damn pool table.

Just as you predicted, he showed up at your door in the dead of night, his silhouette illuminated by the dim porch light. You’d barely made it to the door before his desperate, insistent knocking threatened to wake the entire block.  

It felt like he might break it down if you didn’t open it fast enough. Whoever dropped him off didn’t even wait to see if you’d answer.

No words were exchanged when you finally let him in. His brown eyes, dark and searing, did all the talking.

He’d cupped your face with one rough hand, the other holding a plate with aluminum foil covering it, precariously balancing it in his palm as he kissed you with an appetite that left you breathless.

You let him back you into the kitchen, setting the plate on the counter, his body crowding yours until there was nowhere left to go.

And now, here you are, legs spread wide, the weight of him pressing you down into the tiles, his jacket still on, smelling like beer and bourbon as he ruts himself against you.

“Givin’ your number out, huh?” he growls against your lips, his words dripping with bitterness. His hand snakes up to wrap around your neck, firm but not harsh, forcing your hazy eyes to meet his. You feel the subtle coolness of the bracelet against your skin and that only makes it better. “That’s all it takes, fresita? One fuckin’ dance?”

Each word is punctuated by a sharp, punishing thrust that has you gasping for air.

Your hands scramble at the back of his jacket, trying to find some sort of anchor while his dick fucks into you over and over, your slick cunt clamping helplessly around him.

If your brain wasn’t fogged with pleasure, you’d call him out on his jealousy, tease him for letting something so trivial get under his skin. At least you were better about hiding it.

But god, it’s too fucking hot—seeing him like this, so undone, so unhinged, all because of you.

Javier, the man who always carries himself with that cool, confident swagger, who never seems to let anything faze him, is now losing his composure right here on your kitchen floor.

And all it took was watching some other guy’s attention on you to make him snap. If anyone is picky and spoiled here—it’s him.

“Answer me,” he demands, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to leave you lightheaded, his thrusts never faltering. His free hand grabs at your thigh, spreading you even wider for him, the angle forcing you to experience every inch of him.

“I—it was nothing,” you manage to cry, though your words are almost incoherent as he’s driving into you. “Javi, I—”

“You what?” he interrupts with a curt laugh, his teeth grazing the underside of your jaw before he bites down gently, making you squirm beneath him. “You think I’m gonna let you walk around, lettin’ some asshole think he’s got a chance with you?”

The thought alone seems to fuel him further, his movements growing rougher and you swear you’re on the edge of unraveling.

And as he watches the way your body responds to him—your nails digging into his back, your moans turning into screams—he knows he’s making his point loud and clear. 

Javi’s grip around your throat tightens, cutting off your breath just enough to stimulate you. The pressure makes you feel lightheaded, and somehow, impossibly, even more turned on.

“He can’t fuck you like I can,” he grinds against you, his coarse and damp pubic hairs bristling against your sensitive clit, the friction of it almost too much. “No one can.” His face hovers so close to yours that you can feel his breath on your lips.

Your mouth falls open on instinct, tiny, wheezy moans spilling out as his nose brushes against yours.

Javier’s dark eyes feel like they’re boring straight into your soul, gleaming with hunger as he watches your every twitch, every little surrender. He leans in and kisses you all demanding and vehement. 

His lips claim yours like he’s trying to eat you whole, his tongue slipping inside to taste every gasp you give him.

“Listen to that,” he murmurs mockingly as he pulls back just enough to let his gaze drop between your bodies, watching your pussy swallow his cock. “Just listen to how wet you are, baby. Think he could ever make you sound like this?”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment—and arousal—as the obscene, sloppy sounds of his length plunging into you fill the air, amplified by his words. The drive of his hips is merciless, each stroke drawing you closer with dizzying precision.

Your nails dig into his forearms, bending your body beneath him as your vision starts to be blotched with white spots.

You can feel it, the winding of your orgasm at your core pulling taut, about to burst. When it finally does, your pussy flutters and squeezes as waves of smoldering intensity crash over you.

“Puta madre,” he snarls, his head falling back from how good it feels to have you come around him.

Pulling out, Javier pins you down with his weight to keep you from squirming away. His cock, flushed, drooling, and shiny with your juices, hovers inches from your face as you lay flat on the floor.

Your swollen lips part instinctively, the scent of your own headiness making your mouth water.

“Tongue out, baby,” he commands, his voice rough but coaxing.

You obey, sticking your tongue out lazily, your half-lidded eyes locked onto his. The sight of you like this—wrecked, pliant, and waiting for him—is enough to undo him completely. His hand pumps his cock, the golden accessory on his wrist jolting with each move. 

With a low, rasping groan, he spills over you, thick, hot ropes of cum splattering across your face and tongue.

You moan softly, savoring the warmth, licking your lips and swallowing whatever lands in your mouth. The taste of him leaves your tongue and throat buzzing, and you revel in the messy intimacy of it.

He uses his fingers to wipe the remnants of his release from your cheeks, then pushes them into your mouth without hesitation.

“Suck,” he orders, and you comply, wrapping your lips around his fingers, swirling your tongue over them with eager enthusiasm. You get carried away, your tongue flicking and sucking greedily, and he chuckles darkly.

“Jealousy looks good on you,” you can’t help but tease, your voice carrying amusement as you both come down from the dazed fucking.

Javier sways a little, his inebriation finally catching up to him. He stumbles, but he steadies himself smoothly, like the world itself wouldn’t dare let him fall.

He wipes a hand down his face before meeting your gaze, still kneeling on the floor. “Not a fan of people playin’ with what’s mine,” he says, the statement edged with that possessiveness he tries to pretend isn’t there.

Usually, a line like that would have you rolling your eyes and telling the guy to take his ego down a notch. But with Javier? You don’t mind. At all. Something about the way he says it—like it’s a fact, not an opinion—makes your stomach flip in the worst (or best) way possible.

“Yours?” you challenge, sitting up on your forearms and arching a brow at him. “I thought this was casual.”

“It is,” he says without missing a beat, bringing his fingers up to caress the side of your face, more calm and sure, like he’s completely unaware of how contradictory his behavior is.

You narrow your eyes slightly, refusing to let him off the hook that easily despite melting under his touch. “Casual hookups don’t go into a frenzy after watching the other dance and flirt with someone else.”

He doesn’t even flinch at your words, doesn’t even bother to defend himself. Instead, he smirks—because of course he does—and stretches his arms over his head like the entire conversation is nothing but a minor inconvenience to him.

He straightens up stands, extending a hand to you, his palm open and inviting, the gold band of the bracelet glinting in the low light.

You let him pull you up and let out a sound of exertion, your muscles still a little tense from rolling around on the hard floor with him.

“Dance, flirt with whoever you want. When I want you, I’m gonna have you.”

That’s possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. “That so?” You try to sound unimpressed, but your voice betrays you, just the tiniest bit giddy.

“That’s so,” he concedes vaingloriously. “Don’t forget who makes you feel like this satisfied.”

As if I could ever. “Cocky bastard,” you mutter, but the words lack any real bite.

He leans in, kissing you gently, then his voice drops into that deep, velvety murmur that makes your pussy tingle. “Yet you keep coming back.”

You don’t respond because, let’s face it, he’s not wrong. Especially not when he pairs those words with ana affectionate kiss.

Instead, you finally roll your eyes, the most predictable move in your arsenal, and step around him to grab your discarded sleeping shorts.

Sliding them back on, you make your way to the counter, where the lonely styrofoam plate of half-smashed birthday cake waits for attention. Without a word, you pull it closer, grab a fork, and dig in.

Javier watches you with a grin still plastered across his face, leaning his hip against the counter. “Didn’t even offer the birthday boy the first bite, huh? Real cold.”

You stab a piece exaggeratedly, lifting it to your mouth, and chewing slowly, giving him a look that says cry about it.

But when you see the faint pout pulling at his lips—a deliberate act, no doubt—you sigh, scoop up another forkful, and hold it out. “Fine. Even though technically it’s not your birthday anymore.”

He leans in, not breaking the eye contact, and takes the bite straight from the fork, his lips brushing the tines with an unnecessary amount of flair.

You swear he’s showing off, but you don’t call him out on it, not when he groans softly in appreciation and you can’t help but admire him like this, playful and flirty in your kitchen.

“Feliz cumpleaños, Javi,” you say after a moment, softer now.

He swallows, his smirk shifting into something a little more genuine as he meets your gaze. “Gracias, fresita.”

For a moment, the air between you shifts—gentler, almost intimate. Then he reaches for the fork still in your hand and steals another bite, flashing you a look that drags you right back to reality.

i have a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

@almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiamore . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @persephone-girl . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @almostfoxglove . @thundermartini . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @marisemonteiroo . @picketniffler . @getitoutofmymindwrites . @penascigarette . @bunniboo0015 . @kirsteng42 . @ivuravix . @joelmillerisapunk . @theestorm . @pasc4lfuzz .

[iamquiantrelle]

GOLDEN BOY (chapter 2)────── iamquaintrelle

⌗ pairing : trent alexander arnold x black oc

⌗ summary : trent is having a quarter life crisis but will a smart-mouthed girl whip him into shape?

⌗ warnings : 18+ only!! (☁️☔️💕)

⌗taglist: @foreverisntenough, @trentswrld, @trentswhore @cinnaleaf @v6quewrlds @football-and-fanfics @eriks-girl @preetykookie @4ngryssgf @endlessmuse @noturbabe22 @bbgkoo

Tyler was still talking, going on about lighting concepts, but Trent's mind was spinning like he'd just done dizzy penalties.

April fucking Goodplenty.

The girl who'd rinsed him about his accent was apparently some hotshot photographer to the stars. No wonder she wasn't gassed about him being TAA - she probably shot Mbappé in his boxers last week.

"…could really elevate your brand," Tyler was saying. "Show a different side of you, you know? More artistic–"

"I fucked her last night."

Tyler's fork clattered against his plate. "What?"

"Well, almost fucked her." Trent grimaced, remembering. "Got proper mortal on tequila."

"You're taking the piss."

"Swear down." Trent tugged his collar down, revealing the art gallery of hickeys April had left behind. "She's got this mental cat named Pussy–"

"Bruv." Tyler put his head in his hands. "You're telling me you pulled the photographer I've been trying to book for three months? The one who told Nike to fuck off because their concept wasn't 'authentic' enough?"

"…yeah?"

"And you got liquor dick?"

"Oi!" The elderly couple at the next table turned to stare, and Trent lowered his voice. "It weren't just me, she was proper steaming too."

Tyler started laughing, proper belly laughs that had heads turning all over the restaurant. "This is peak. Absolutely peak. The one time your dick decides to go on strike–"

"Listen yeah," Trent cut in, "we can't book her. It'd be weird now."

"Are you mad? This is perfect! She already knows you, innit? Might even give us a better rate–"

"Ty." Trent's voice was serious now. "She proper mugged me off this morning. Slammed the door in my face and everything. Think she'd just take the piss if we tried booking her."

"Or maybe…" Tyler had that look he got when he was plotting something. "Maybe she'd want to finish what you started."

Trent's mind flashed to this morning - April in that silk robe, the way it had gaped open just enough to drive him mental. The absolute violation that would be, her directing him all professional-like while knowing exactly what he looked like in just his boxers.

"Nah." He shook his head. "Find someone else."

"Too late." Tyler's grin was pure evil as he held up his phone. "Already sent the inquiry last week. Got a meeting with her tomorrow."

"You're taking the fucking piss."

"Meeting's at two. Her studio in Shoreditch." Tyler stood up, dropping some notes on the table. "Don't be late."

"I'm not going."

"Yes you are." Tyler's voice had that tone that meant business. "This is exactly what we need for your image right now. Bit of edge, bit of artistry. Show everyone you're more than just the scouse wonderkid."

Trent watched his brother leave, then slumped back in his chair. Fucking hell. Tomorrow was going to be madness.

His phone buzzed - Tyler sending through the studio address. Under it was a message that made his stomach flip:

'She already confirmed btw. Said she's "very interested" in working with you.'

Christ. What had he gotten himself into?

Trent's Range Rover crawled through Shoreditch's narrow streets, his GPS having trouble trying to navigate the one-way system. Warehouse conversions and street art blurred past as his mind wandered to the night before last - to tequila shots and spiced vanilla and yellow-eyed cats named after Bond girls.

"Just round here," Tyler pointed, and Trent pulled up outside a converted factory building. Red brick, massive windows, proper East London trendy.

"Still think this is dead weird," he muttered, killing the engine.

"Stop being a pussy and come on."

The receptionist buzzed them through to a freight lift that looked like something out of a horror film, all exposed metal and dodgy grinding noises. When it finally wheezed to a stop, they stepped out into what had to be April's studio.

And there she was.

Fuck me.

The high-waisted jeans should've been illegal, honestly. Hugging every curve like they were painted on, leading down to these mental heels that had Trent's brain short-circuiting. The cropped jumper showed just enough skin to be professional but still have him thinking very unprofessional thoughts. Her hair was pulled back today, showing off cheekbones that could probably cut glass.

"Tyler," she smiled, all business now. "And… Trent. Nice to see you both."

The way she said his name had him remembering exactly how it sounded when she'd been leaving those marks on his neck. Speaking of which…

"Still sporting those love bites, I see," she smirked, gesturing for them to follow her into what looked like a meeting room. "Rough weekend?"

"Something like that," he managed, trying not to stare at her ass as she walked ahead of them. But fucking hell, those jeans were criminal.

The meeting room was all exposed brick and vintage furniture, mood boards covering one wall. April perched on the edge of the table, crossing those legs like she knew exactly what she was doing to his mental state.

"So," she began, pulling up some images on her laptop. "I've got some concepts I think could work really well. Break away from the usual footballer shoot - no watches, no posing with cars. Something more… raw."

Tyler leaned forward, interested. "Go on."

"I'm thinking black and white, minimal styling. Really strip everything back." She turned her laptop around, showing similar shoots she'd done. "Some torso shots, maybe even full nude–"

"What?" Trent choked out.

"Nothing gratuitous," she continued like he hadn't spoken. "All very tasteful. Think Greek sculpture vibes. Show the athletic form, the power, the vulnerability…"

"Nah," Trent shook his head. "No chance."

"Why not?" Those eyes fixed on him, challenging. "Scared?"

"I'm not scared," he bristled. "Just don't fancy getting my kit off for your camera, do I?"

"Wouldn't be the first time you've stripped for me though, would it?"

Tyler's eyebrows shot up as Trent felt his face heat. "That was different–"

"Was it?" She tilted her head, that infuriating smirk playing at her lips. "Because I seem to remember you being quite… willing."

"We'll think about it," Tyler cut in smoothly, ever the professional. "Maybe start with something less… exposed? Build up to it?"

April shrugged, standing up. "Your call. But I think you're missing an opportunity here. Could be something special."

As they headed for the lift, she called out: "Oh, and Trent? Might want to invest in some turtlenecks. Those marks look proper savage. Almost like you ran into a vampire or something."

"That what you are then? A vampire?"

Her laugh echoed through the studio - an unfiltered belly laugh that had him staring. Head thrown back, eyes crinkled, nothing like her professional photographer persona. Something in his chest did a weird flip.

"You're mental, you know that?" he said, but he was grinning despite himself.

"So I've been told." She winked - actually winked - and disappeared back into her office.

Outside, Tyler was already on his phone, probably lining up their next meeting. "That went well."

"Well?" Trent spluttered. "She wants me naked!"

"Not straight away though. We can build up to it–"

"I'm not getting my dick out for art, Ty!"

"No one said anything about your dick," Tyler grinned. "Unless… you thinking about showing her that too?"

"Shut up."

"Nah but seriously," Tyler pocketed his phone, turning to face him. "Did you see those other shots she showed us? Proper sick. Could really change how people see you."

Trent leaned against his car, thinking about it. The photos had been amazing - athletes looking powerful but vulnerable at the same time. Nothing sleazy about it. But still…

"She's just going to take the piss the whole time."

"Maybe that's what you need though?" Tyler raised an eyebrow. "Someone who doesn't treat you like TAA, Liverpool's golden boy. When was the last time someone actually challenged you properly?"

Never, if he was being honest. Even Sophie had just tried to mold him into what she thought he should be. But April… she seemed dead set on doing the opposite.

"Plus," Tyler added with a smirk, "think you might be into it a bit."

"What?"

"The way she mugs you off. Saw your face when she was giving it the big one about being scared. You proper love it."

"Fuck off," Trent laughed, but his neck felt hot. Was he actually into being challenged like that? The way she'd rinsed him about everything, how she kept him on his toes…

Christ. Maybe he did have a thing for it.

"Just think about it," Tyler said, already walking to the passenger side. "Meeting's in the diary for next week. Wear something nice."

Trent watched his brother disappear inside the car, then looked back up at the studio windows. Through the massive panes of glass, he could just make out April's silhouette, bent over her desk reviewing something.

Those fucking jeans though.

Maybe one more meeting wouldn't hurt.

Liverpool's training ground was freezing, typical January weather making everyone's breath visible in the air. Trent tugged at his high-neck base layer, grateful for the excuse of the cold to cover up April's artwork. Two days later and the marks were still there, like she'd been trying to brand him or something.

"Again!" Slot's voice carried across the pitch. "Press higher, Trent! Control that space!"

He pushed forward, finding that pocket between the defensive line in the practice match. The ball came to his feet like it was on a string - muscle memory from thousands of repetitions. One touch, two touch, whipped cross to Nuñez who buried it in the top corner.

"Better! Take five, lads!"

Trent grabbed his water bottle and phone from his bag, dropping onto one of the benches. His thumb opened Raya automatically - sad behavior really, but he couldn't help himself. Been glued to it since New Year's, swiping through posh girls and influencers without really seeing them.

Until.

"You're fucking joking," he muttered, nearly dropping his phone.

There she was. April Goodplenty, 27, verified profile with that little blue tick. Her first photo was something artistic - all shadows and angles, showing off those cheekbones that could probably slice bread. The next one had her on some beach in Bali, wearing this tiny white bikini that had his throat going dry. Then one of her working, camera in hand, tongue caught between her teeth in concentration.

The bio though: "If your profile's got you in a watch and suit, save us both the time and swipe left xx"

Trent snorted. Course she'd have that energy on here too.

His thumb hovered over her profile. Would she even swipe right on him? Probably saw him as just another job now. Plus there was that whole… liquor dick situation. Total violation that was.

Fuck it.

He swiped right just as Slot's whistle pierced the air.

"Let's go! Set piece drills!"

Back to work then. He jogged back onto the pitch, trying to focus on football instead of wondering if she'd match with him. They ran through corner routines, free kick patterns, all the stuff that should've had his full attention. But his mind kept drifting to spiced vanilla and burgundy nails and that laugh that made his chest do weird things.

"Trent!" Slot's voice snapped him back. "You're dropping too deep again!"

Get it together, lad.

By the time training finished, he was tired. The shower felt biblical, hot water washing away the January chill. He wrapped a towel around his waist and another around his neck to hide the love bites, heading for his locker when his phone lit up with a notification.

New match on Raya.

His heart actually skipped. What was he, twelve?

But there she was - April Goodplenty had swiped right. And she'd already sent a message:

"You get one second chance. Don't fuck it up."

His first thought was "Yes ma'am" but that felt a bit… eager. Instead, he sent back a salute emoji, trying to play it cool while his brain was doing cartwheels.

Right then. Where the fuck do you take a girl who thinks fancy restaurants are dead and probably knows every hipster spot in London?

He opened Google, typing "unique date ideas Liverpool" before deleting it immediately. Nah, that was basic. She'd see right through that.

What about… he thought back to her flat. All those vinyls, the art everywhere. The way her eyes lit up when she was taking the piss out of his accent.

Maybe he did have an idea. Something properly scouse, but make it interesting. Show her his Liverpool, not the sanitized version he usually showed girls like Sophie.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, a grin spreading across his face. Oh yeah. This could work.

Now he just had to not fuck it up.

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

Two-all against Man United felt like a kick in the teeth. Trent's yellow card was still burning him up - such a soft call from the ref after Rashford went down like he'd been shot. The crowd had lost it, Anfield turning into a cauldron of noise as Man United's number ten rolled around like he was auditioning for the Olympics.

The gaffer had given them the "point's a point" speech in the dressing room, but it didn't help the taste of ash in his mouth. Should've had that game wrapped up in the first half - hit the post twice, had a penalty shout waved away. Then Bruno's equalizer in the 89th minute... violation that.

And now he had to somehow get his head right for this date.

He'd picked Baltic Market - bit different from his usual spots, proper Liverpool but with an edge. Street food stalls, local artists, that indie record shop in the corner that reminded him of April's flat. No fancy tablecloths or sommeliers giving it the big one about wine pairings. Just real Liverpool culture, the kind tourists never got to see.

His phone buzzed - probably Tyler asking about the match. But nah, just his mum sending another article about his yellow card. Christ, did everyone have an opinion these days?

"This better work," he muttered, checking the time again. Seven minutes late. Maybe she'd ghosted. Wouldn't be surprised after that meeting, him acting all precious about getting his kit off–

"Didn't expect you to actually pick somewhere decent."

That voice. He turned and… fuck me.

The Balenciaga jumpsuit was doing criminal things to her figure, and those heels had her almost at his height. Her coat was probably worth more than his entire outfit, but she wore it like it was nothing. Those curls though - bouncing with every movement, making his fingers itch to touch them.

"Rough match?" she asked, and he could've kissed her for not going straight into analysis mode like everyone else after a draw.

"Something like that."

"Good thing I know just the cure." She nodded toward the entrance. "Shall we?"

Inside was buzzing - fairy lights strung across the ceiling, music from some local band floating through the air, the smell of about twelve different cuisines mixing together. April's eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas, taking it all in.

"Now this," she said, "is more like it."

They ended up at this Korean street food stall, April going in on some bulgogi fries while telling him about this shoot she did with some rugby player who kept flexing his abs between takes.

"Real tragic," she laughed, licking sauce off her fingers in a way that had his mind going places it shouldn't. "Like mate, I can see them, you don't need to keep pushing them out. Looked like he was having a fit."

"That what you want me to do then? Get my abs out?"

"Please," she rolled her eyes, but he caught the way her gaze flickered to his torso. "Your ego's big enough already. Plus, after that meeting... seems like you're scared of the camera."

"I'm not scared," he bristled. "Just don't fancy having my arse all over magazines."

"Shame," she smirked. "It's quite a nice arse."

Before he could process that, she was already moving on to the next stall, leaving him standing there like an idiot.

They wandered through the market, April stopping to chat with every artist about their work. She knew her stuff too - passionate about it all. Made him think about those art prints in her flat, how everything there had felt intentional. Not like his place with its designer furniture picked out by some interior decorator.

The record shop owner recognized him, but instead of the usual selfie request, he and April got into this massive debate about vinyl pressings that Trent couldn't follow for shit. But watching her get excited about it, those curls bouncing as she gestured, the way her eyes lit up when she found some rare pressing... it was doing something to his chest, making it feel tight in a way that had nothing to do with the match earlier.

"Trent?"

He blinked, realizing he'd been staring. "What?"

"I said, should we get out of here?"

Outside, the Liverpool air was bitter now. April pulled her coat tighter, those curls whipping in the wind, and Trent had to stuff his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching out to touch them.

"Listen," she said suddenly, turning to face him. "Let's cut the chase. I'm a busy woman, you're a busy man... so are we trying to fuck each other or are you pussy?"

Trent nearly choked on air. "I- what?"

"You heard me."

"You slammed a door in my face!" he spluttered. "Like, what are you talking about?"

"Sorry," she shrugged, not looking sorry at all. Those eyes were dancing with mischief again. "I saw you giving me the eyes at our meeting. And you swiped right on Raya, so..."

His brain was short-circuiting. This girl was actually mental. Completely off her head. Saying whatever came to mind like she didn't give a fuck about the consequences. And fuck him if it wasn't the most attractive thing he'd ever seen.

"You're actually mad," he said, but he was grinning.

"Maybe." She stepped closer, close enough that he could smell that spiced vanilla again. Close enough to see the flecks of gold in her eyes, the way her lips curved into that smile that spelled trouble. "But I don't see you running."

No, he definitely wasn't running. Not when she was looking at him like that, like she was deciding exactly how she wanted to ruin him. Not when those curls were right there, begging to be touched. Not when everything about her was a challenge he desperately wanted to accept.

"So?" She raised an eyebrow, and he could see the marks she'd left on his neck reflected in her eyes. "What's it going to be?"

The wind whipped around them, carrying the distant sounds of the city - cars honking, music from the market, someone laughing. But all Trent could focus on was the way April was looking at him, those eyes challenging him like always. Making him feel like more than just TAA, Liverpool's golden boy. Making him feel... real.

Fuck it.

"Your place or mine?"

Her smile turned wicked. "Bold of you to assume I'm that easy."

"You literally just asked if-"

"I know what I asked." She took a step back, and he immediately missed her warmth. "But maybe I just wanted to see what you'd say."

Christ. This girl was going to be the death of him.

"See you at the studio next week, Trent," she called over her shoulder, already walking away. "Try not to think about me too much."

He watched her disappear into the night, those curls bouncing with each step, that jumpsuit doing ungodly things to his mind.

Too late for that, wasn't it? He was already in too deep, and they both knew it.

The worst part? He was starting to think he didn't mind at all.

…………tbd

[genderqueerdykes]

hi I feel kinda silly for not knowing, but I can't easily google this: What does tma/tme mean? I've only ever seen the abbrieviations

thanks for stopping by to ask! hey that's okay most people don't know what they mean, it's used by a niche group of people who are very rude and are hellbent on making afab people, trans men, intersex people and other queer people feel like shit all over again for no good reason.

they stand for "transmisogyny affected" and "transmigoyny exempt". they are dog whistles used to say "trans woman/tranfem" with "tma" and "afab people, intersex people, people perceived to be afab people trans men, transmascs, and basically anyone who isn't a trans woman". however the way its most commonly use code words. TME is used as a code word for trans man, transfem or afab person, TMA is used as a code word for perisex (non-intersex) transfems and trans women.

it's an easy way for people to say they hate trans men, transmascs & afab people without actually saying it, which makes them feel better about themselves. really what they're trying to do is attract people who feel the same way who are too scared to say it out loud. they don't want to risk garnering outright too much hate by outright saying "nasty transmascs, trans men and afab people" but they can say "nasty TMEs" because it's gussied up as progressive. according to the people use it, it's "about oppression,". it's not, but that's what they say it is.

people who consider themselves TMA look down on TME people because they're "not as oppressed," but i quite literally don't know in what universe AFAB people are not oppressed. that is such a twisted view on the world, first of all. AFAB people are oppressed no matter what, even if they are transmascs or trans men. AFAB people are subject to all kinds of oppression from birth. people in certain transfem echo chambers believe AFAB people, intersex people, transmascs and trans man can never suffer ever for some reason. it's really bad.

it's an oppression olympics thing. some people are not interested in having a real conversation about the struggles trans people face. they just want everyone else to clam up and listen to them with rapt attention and never speak. TME and TMA don't work because transmisogyny affects everyone regardless of gender. anyone can be affected by transmisogyny due to the hyper visibility of transfemininity.

it's also been pointed out that black trans people do not segregate people into "transmisogynoir affected" and "transmisogynoir exempt". this would be a ridiculous thing to do. it's creating unnecessary barriers between trans people.

some AMAB queer people, transfems & trans people have a knee jerk, cat hiss reaction towards queers who were born with vaginas. it's really scary honestly. i don't know why. this entire thing is to try to figure out what genitals you were born with. like be careful around people like this and don't try to tell them which one you are because they are literally trying to figure out what genitals you had at birth & what gender you were assigned at birth. it's not to make you "safer" for transfems and trans women to be around or whatever. this is a transandrophobic dog whistle. stay safe. thanks for stopping by, take care of yourself

[eclipseberrycake]

Poly! MoonBerryCake x Reader Pt. 9

AN: How have we come this far omg- Anyway, I recently hit 100 followers!!! SO I wanted to thank you all so much for your support on this journey! It's been such an amazing ride and I've loved every second. Being a part of this fandom is so fun, even if it's a jail sometimes (Looking at you Tiktok) and I just- I hope to repay the joy you guys have all given me.

This is a request! BUT I combined two requests because I had a really good idea for it! Twisted! Reader makes an appearance again!

Now, I know y'all love Teagan, and I do too! But their mains pmo so for the sake of the story they're the villain for now. Unless you main them, you're cool. This is just based on my experience and since I can't draw them pregnant this is what I need to do.

Part One -> Part Two -> Part Three -> Part Four -> Part Five -> Part Six -> Part Six 1/2 -> Part Seven -> Part Eight

Warning: Teagan gets a bad rep here, some physical violence (People get slapped), and Sl*t shaming (Reader doesn't let that shit slide though).

☁ You were ecstatic. That much was plain to see. You were practically jumping off the walls as you ran from toon to toon, each asking them the same, excited question. "Aren't you excited?!"

☁ The other three could only watch in exasperated awe as you cheered and bounced from foot to foot, trinkets bouncing off your hip. You were like a kid on Christmas, waiting at the elevator for the others willing to do a run to show up.

☁ You had finally, finally, gotten the all clear to return to distracting, even if the other three lowkey dreaded it, and were practically vibrating to return to your work.

☁ You had agreed to start at a normal run, no hunt for Dandy's twisted, and with all three of them with no pleading, which eased them just a bit. They'd be there should worst comes to worst and monitor how you were doing. If at any point you were unwell, they'd pull you from the run and work back up to what you normally were used to doing.

☁ You took what you could get in all honesty, just excited to be back, catching Pebble when he excitedly yipped up at you, his little tail wagging wildly. He was coming along as a back up. Just in case.

☁ Admittedly, the other three dragged their feet when it came to entering the elevator, even as you ran circles around them, yanking and pulling at them, urging them to hurry up.

☁ Pushing against Sprout, you groaned as he let his weight fall back, giving some grand show as to how "Gravity was increasing!", making you screech at him.

☁ You did surprise him when instead of crumbling under his weight, you stayed upright, pushing him up straight with a call for him to "Stop dragging your clown feet!"

☁ It was the four of you, Pebble, Teagan, Shelly and Glisten. Shelly too was excited as this would be her own first run as well, her own tail wagging happily behind her as you and her cheered in excitement. It was an adorable sight, really, there was a fond eye roll as the lever was pulled and the elevator brought you all to the first floor.

☁ While Sprout was trying to find common ground with Teagan about the tape situation, which she was being rather flippant about, Cosmo had cornered you with Astro's help, ticking off a number of things the keep in mind with your return to the field. You nodded along, even if they were sure you weren't listening as much as you tried to portray.

☁ "Additionally," Astro spoke up after Cosmo stopped to take a breath, the sudden glum loon on his face making you perk your attention up as you turned to him. "Your twisted is bound to be more active. We've noticed that more recently someone was turned, the more likely their twisted is to show up. If you need to, take a floor, let Pebble do it."

☁ His eyes shined with a domineering spirit you very rarely saw in the celestial, making you swallow tightly as you nodded. "I will."

☁ His eyes scanned your own before a star shard was ruffling your fur, making you yelp as you swatted at it. It made Astro chuckle as Cosmo tried not to laugh, making you squeal out a number of curses at the cake roll and celestial. The elevator opens just as the star shard retreats and Astro's gentle hand cups your cheek, pressing a hand to your lips. "Stay safe, starlight."

☁ "I will." You nod, standing and smoothing yourself out. Cosmo doesn't let you go far, wrapping his arms around you and smacking a hearty kiss onto your lips. "Just remember who's bed you sleep in, Pudding! Don't get hurt!"

☁ The unsaid threat makes a shiver spin down your spine as you turn, even if the happy fuzzies from the affections make your entire body buzz. You glance around for the final individual, making your way over to where Sprout looks ready to tear his leaves out.

☁ Teagen carried on anyway, passing you even as Glisten warned her to give you a minute. You let her go though, knowing that if they could last as long as they did without you, they'd last a few more minutes. You focused on Sprout, who took a long, deep breath before giving you a soft, tired smile. "Go get 'em, bud." He hums, setting his hands on your hips as you hold his cheeks to press a kiss to his lips. You nod happily before taking off at last, ears pricked for the twisteds.

☁ You find them quick enough, with Pebble staying nearby just in case. He's chasing his tail, you note, finishing another circle around the large boxes near broken. It seems to be a easy enough first floor, tranquil and calm with a number of fallbacks. It makes things fall into place that much easier as the machines are completed one by one.

☁ From there, floor by floor is completed each one a more welcomed reprieve than the last. There are some tensions, you note, as Sprout grows increasingly frustrated with Teagan, bringing up his concerns several times- more of you piping in as you went. Alas, she remained flippant, scoffing at each of you as if exhausted by your mere presence.

☁ You weren't sure if something had happened during your time as a twisted and subsequent recovery, but you knew Teagan always had some sort of...attitude. You tried to remain as accommodating as possible, but sometimes you just couldn't please everyone.

☁ When the elevator door opened and footsteps echoed in the hall, you tilted your head at the sound, not recognizing them right away. Looking behind you, you frowned at the faces you were faced with. Oh.

☁ "Pebble," You say, breaking the tense silence. "Stay close, buddy. I doubt this twisted is gonna like us very much." Not that any of them did, but still.

☁ You waved at your boys, who evidently didn't look thrilled at the prospect but let you go, nodding slowly as you began to take off. Your Twisted spotted you almost immediately and you felt your blood run cold at the sight.

☁ Their side oozed ichor, eyes beady and red and locked right onto you. It made you swallow as you picked up the pace, looking back at the sound of their hands hitting the floor. The development made your eyes widen as they took off much faster, claws outreached and ready to strike.

☁ You nearly tripped over your own feet, Pebble looking ready to jump in as he whines only for you to quickly recover, taking off to where you knew a good distracting spot was. You picked up a twisted Coal as well, which Pebble took so you could focus on the other twisted, even if he stayed nearby- which you appreciated.

☁ A part of you knew that he would though, as you have grown rather close with the pet rock, who slept in your bed with Blu more often than not these days. (Thats right y'all. Blu and Pebble friendship. Pebble sleeps in your bed. Coal sleeps on the floor.)

☁ So you continue, making sure you were distracting around a metal shelf, that managed to hold strong against your twisted's charging. It clanged everytime it rocked against the shelf, but you continued your little song and dance with the twisted. It was like distracting Goob or Scraps.

☁ Still, seeing your own face look like that makes your gut churn bitterly at the thought of being that at any point in time. You regret turning greatly, but if that was the only way to save Vee, you'd do it again in a heartbeat.

☁ You almost debate zoning out like you used to do, but that hope is quickly dashed at the sound of an air horn. It makes you skid to a stop as the Twisted you immediately turns tail to the other direction.

☁ You try yelling and using your ability to get them back, but they've already focused on someone else and you can't get them back until you get between them and the toon they're locked onto. Which, with your twisted, is a challenge.

☁ Anger boils in your gut as you take off once more, Pebble debating leaving the other twisted or following you. You call out a command for him to stay, which he does with a whine.

☁ You can't even help the growl of anger that slips out as you spot Teagan running, the version of you hot on her trail. You take off after her, even if your joints make their distaste known. This would be the final floor for you, you decided a while ago, promising to power through this one in the very least.

☁ You're not sure where Teagan is going, but you can't catch up. You're low on Stamina and without Astro nearby, you unfortunately just have to hope that Teagan has a trick up her sleeve.

☁ Speaking of Astro, you're practically gutted as you follow Teagan around a corner, the teacup making a beeline for the machine he was working on. You yell out for him to be aware, but have no real worry as even you've missed him a few times. He looks up, noting the situation with a nod, only to immediately gape as Teagan throws down a smoke bomb and the Twisted version of you locks onto him instead.

☁ He's trapped in a corner even as you take off once more, the version of you pouncing. It's claws dig into Astro's shoulders, making him cry out as you reactivate your ability. The twisted version of you immediately turns to you, screeching, but you pay it no mind, running in the opposite direction. Anger positively boils in your stomach as you curse and snap, acting more like a beacon than any airhorn could.

☁ You call for Pebble, making the rock run over, barking to call your Twisted's attention to him as you turned back to Astro. He was standing now, if a little woozy as you ran up to him.

☁ "Oh my GOD- I am so, so sorry. I tried catching up, but I couldn't and I didn't know you were here-" You began to babble, reaching into your inventory bag to grab...anything that could help really. You come up empty, but not for long as you see Sprout jogging down the nearby hall. You call to him and he whips his head over, eyes widening as he sees the ichor on your hands, dashing over.

☁ "We told you to be careful-" He's mid-scold when you stop him, shaking your head. "It wasn't me! Astro was hit!"

☁ Sprout pauses, face immediately taking a new tone. "Astro?" He turns and sees the claw marks on his shoulders, staining his blanket as the celestial groans. "Oh shit- Okay, yeah, let's get you to elevator, honey bun." Sprout bends down to scoop up the other main, making him groan. He goes to tell you to follow, not having the mental capacity to track both you and an injured partner, but you're following anyway.

☁ "I don't have any meds." You mutter forlorn, immediately looking defeated. Sprout frowns at that, giving a sigh. "I don't have enough tapes. I told Teagan there would be enough for both of us, but does she listen? No."

☁ "I'm sor-" Astro begins to groan, but you cut him off with a barked "Don't." Sprout raises a brow at your sudden temper, never knowing you to be one to act so...aggresively? You've always been a happy go-lucky angel of a being, never failing to light up the room with a smile.

☁ But to see you? Snarling with anger and sharp teeth on display, leftover from your time as a newly turned twisted? It makes his skin bristle. "What happened?"

☁ "That airhorn?" You practically spit. "Teagan blew it. Took the twisted from me and led them right to Astro! Then smoke bombed and let him take the hit!" You're seething and Sprout blinks in surprise at this, looking down at Astro. The Celestial's eyes are wide, looking between you and Sprout himself, as if uncertain how to go from there.

☁ Sprout wasn't sure either, simply taking you both to the elevator. Glisten and Cosmo are already there, hiding behind a box. Just as Sprout's about to call to Glisten the directions to the last machine, it goes off and the Elevator opens.

☁ Sprout quickly ducks inside, calling Cosmo over. The cake roll immediately gets to work, digging into his inventory for a first aid kit, getting to work on Astro's wounds. The celestial pouts, but sits, having seen first hand what Cosmo's glare is like when you dared disobeying.

☁ Admittedly, Sprout's still watching you. You're standing at the brink of the elevator, positively livid, but waiting. Like a predator would wait for its prey. You're poised, muscles tight and ready to strike the first chance you loosen your iron clad will just the tiniest bit.

☁ If nothing else, he's excited. To see you? The peachy keen, bushy-tailed, absolutely beaming beacon of hope and sunshines and rainbows and everything nice in the world absolutely let lose? Oh he's buzzing. Even if it's quelled a bit as Astro squeezes his hand, cursing at the sudden infectant on his wound.

☁ Glisten himself steps inside, with Shelly jogging in soon after. Pebble makes his appearance with a yip, immediately running to Astro's side with a wag in his tail, even if he whines at the main.

☁ Then, you're prey arrives. She's panting as she turns the corner, the elevator slamming down behind her as she bends down to lay her hands on her knees.

☁ Everyone is watching you, and your boys are sure you know it. Sprout swears on his life that your eyes flash red as you stalk over to her, growling as you do with a sneer on your lips.

☁ "Where were you so-called-distractors?!" Teagan snaps, turning to you with an indignant scowl on her face. "I nearly got hit!"

☁ "Oh. did you?" The snarl on your face falls for a second, replaced with a grin so sweet even Cosmo avoids looking over too long, cleaning the last of Astro's wound before pressing a bandage to it and a parting kiss. It makes Astro grin before he's gently pressing his own peck to Cosmo's head, immediately turning his attention back to you.

☁ Astro debates stopping you, but figures she's more than earned it with the attitude she's been giving Sprout all day.

☁ "That's funny." You continue, stepping close enough that every step forward makes Teagan take one back before she's pressed against a wall. Faster than any of them can react, your hand snaps out, claws digging into the metal of the wall, and this time Sprout's sure there's a flicker of red. "Because you know who did get hurt? Huh? After someone blew an airhorn? Then led the twisted right to him? Then smokebombed to ensure they saw him? Because I do."

☁ Teagan tries looking for an escape, but you're domineering in every aspect of the word. You're not even focused on them and Sprout wants to bow his head in shame.

☁ It's in your stance, the tone of your voice and your general aura around you. You're enraged and everyone in the elevator knows it.

☁ Everyone, but apparently Teagan. After realizing she doesn't have one, she rolls her shoulder and stands straight, getting in your face despite the snarl on your features. "If he would've moved, it wouldn't have happened! He's as much to blame. In fact, if anyone is to blame, it's you!"

☁ Pebble barks at this angrily, running up to your side, but he's momentarily ignored as whatever patience you had snapped. "MY FAULT?! You blew an airhorn for no reason. We had it under control. You've been a selfish, greedy bitch this entire time with no regards for anyone but yourself! You refuse to share tapes with Sprout, constantly get in mine and Pebble's way and damn near took a medkit from Cosmo! You're snotty at the best of times and too righteous for what I know you've done at the worst. I get your family system has a metric fuck-ton of drama going on, most of it self-inflicted by the way, but that does not give you the excuse to take that out on us, especially not my family."

☁ Teagan gapes as the elevator moves to return to the Lobby, Glisten standing by the lever with a grimace on his face as he stared at Teagan. Shelly is avoiding looking at either you or Teagan, making sure Astro is okay while Cosmo finishes up. Pebble is dashing between you and Sprout, whimpering up a storm.

☁ Sprout himself is watching carefully, torn between stepping between you two and letting you handle yourself. You're on a thin fuse and it's been snipped from her accusations. But Teagan has been a pain for awhile, the drama between her and Rodger reaching several boiling points which she takes out on the rest of the toons. It makes Sprout snarl to himself at the thought, keeping to his spot beside the other two. Astro, at least, looks thoroughly entertained and Cosmo seems neutral about the whole ordeal.

☁ There's a crack in the elevator and Sprout's immediately looking over. Your head is snapped to the left, cheek already looking swollen as Teagen's raised hand quivers. There are tears in her eyes, but she's just as angry as you're slowly looking.

☁ Sprout steps forward to intervene, but Astro's tail swipes against his knees, pulling his attention to the celestial, who shakes his head. So Sprout stills an watches as you move your jaw.

☁ "You have no idea what I've been through! You have no right to mention that! It's not my fault you- you sell yourself out! You're cheap and a dime-a-dozen toon! You should stay in your lane before I force you back into it!" Teagan snaps, clenching her hands.

☁ You look back at her, almost stunned but you quickly recover. "Let me make this one thing explicitly clear to you." You begin, tone chilling the air in the elevator. "Everyone knows what happened between you and Rodger. How? We've heard your screaming matches for weeks. Either break-up or don't. Just figure it the fuck out, if nothing else but Toodle's sake. Second," You hold up a second finger, eyes narrowing. "If you think for one ounce of a second that your relationship is anything comparable to mine, I have some bad news for you. There is nothing even remotely similar between our relationships. Ours is healthy, but you wouldn't know anything about that now would you. And third," You pause.

☁ Then there's another crack and Teagan is backed against the wall. "If you ever lay your hands on me again, I'll feed you to a twisted." You glower just as the elevator opens. You look at it then at your boys, grinning like normal.

☁ "C'mon, lets get Astro to bed. He's injured so he loses rights to complain about getting babied."

☁ "I do not!"

☁ Sprout's already laughing as he carries Astro to your room, Cosmo coming up behind you with an arm around your waist. He waits until you're out of earshot of the others before nudging you. "That was pretty hot, you know, pudding."

☁ You flush before laughing, pushing him away by his face. "Yeah, yeah, keep it to yourself. Don't you have a celestial to heal?"

☁ Cosmo snickers, pressing a kiss to your lips under the guise of healing you just as Pebble runs up to join you guys, beating you to your own room where he sits with Blueberry cake against Astro.

☁ Pebble isn't sure what really went on, but watching you laugh again makes it all seem alright.

☁ Even if it was at the expense of Teagan.

☁ She seemed like a cat lady anyway.

[prlssprfctn]

It is no secret that Jason Todd has a soft spot for kids. His family knew it for a while, figured by the way he always changed the intonation of his grumbling voice around them, and stopped to help them out with whatever was puzzling their little, chaotic minds.

But it is still so unusual for them to see Jason actually acting soft around random kids.

So, when Dick accidentally walks on Jason and a little crying kid in the alleyway, during the patrol, he... freezes a little. There is something absolutely cute in a way big bad Red Hood kneels in front of the kid, while animatedly telling some stupid, funny story with all sounds effects rolling down his tongue, and big gestures. The kid giggles, gasps, and eventually stops crying, wrapping little arms around "brother's Hood" neck. Jason gets grumpier when he notices Dick staring at them, but that's fine. It is still cute-cute.

The next week, Tim stumbles across Red Hood, distracting a homeless boy scared of explosions by playing with him. When the boy jokingly hits him on the shoulder, Red Hood dramatically falls on the ground, gripping his "wound," and Tim can't help but stifle a laughter along with a boy.

Barbara listens through the comms as Red Hood hums some lullaby to a girl, he saved from Black Mask's goons. Damian catches Red Hood taking off his helmet for a toddler to stop crying at the sight of an unknown big guy around.

But the point stands: Jason always finds a way to protect kids, and that's something they all are used to.

...They just don't expect kids to protect Red Hood.

When Jason gets hit with a fear toxin — again — and Bruce figures out that he mindlessly, in a total state of panic, went to the Crime Alley, Bruce is... alarmed. None of them handle fear toxin well, but Jason has guns on him, and his memories are the worst. He practically sprints to the location Jason's tracker is, and... stops in the tracks.

Jason is here, full in his armour, curled in the dark, dirty alleyway with kids surrounding him. There tenths — maybe more of them — and they are trying to calm shivering and panicked Red Hood down. A little girl pats him on the helmet, and another boy hugs him gently. They all murmur something, debating about what to do, and Bruce needs a good minute to remember why is he even here.

'Hey!' Some kid from the crowd notices him first, instantly frowning. 'Back off from there. Don't touch brother Hood.'

Bruce doesn't know whether he should laugh or cry.

'I... I am here to help,' he softens his voice. 'Don't worry, kiddo. Thanks for keeping him safe, but—'

'Uh-uh,' the girl glares at him under uneven bangs while shaking her finger in the air. 'We don't trust you. Back off.'

...Jesus, surely Bruce remember times when kids were scared of him, but this is the first time they are actually so bold around him. And it is definitely the first time someone stops him from taking care of his own kid.

Kids from this side of town are really built differently.

'I—'

'Hey,' some taller teenager runs towards them, slightly out of breath as he shakes a can in his hand, addresing his next question to other kids: 'I bought his favourite beer. Do you think it is going to help?'

Should he be concerned that kids on the streets know Jason's favourite beer and bought it despite them being... clearly not of the age of drinking? Probably. Is it also a little bit amusing that they think alcohol would help? Yeah.

'I have an antidote,' Bruce clears his throat. 'I just need to inject it, alright? Please, trust me. I am here to help.'

They all exchange questioning glances between each other. Jason is still pretty much out of it, muttering some nonsense under his breath, shaking as a leaf — not crowbar, not again, please — but when a little girl in dress asks him if he wants to see Batman, his eyes clear just for a split second, before he mouths a small, scared Dad.

By the end of the day, when Jason falls asleep, recovering from the toxin, and kids finally seem to trust Batman enough not to hurt their big brother and let them go, Barbara and Dick tease Bruce non-stop about how kids humbled him. Still, Bruce feels a strange softness settling in his chest.

Maybe he wasn't always here to protect Jason. Maybe he still fails to do it sometimes, not knowing what to do with his son, but... at least Jason still has someone in this world, someone so loyal and loving.

So, yeah. Jason Todd is great at defending kids. But so are they.

[rekino2114]

Hello! I'm more of a nanamin & geto girlie, but I can't resist the glorious blue eyed king. Could you write fem! Gojo x bf/husband that's an introvert or just not really that sociable. He's not shy, he just prefers observing and listening rather than talking all the time like a certain someone. It's prob giving hyper x calm

Fem!gojo with an introvert reader

It's definitely hyper x calm

Gojo is always trying to do something with you, especially if it's something outdoors, while you would much rather stay inside and chill with her and you two just settle it with rock paper scissors and she always complains if she loses

Sometimes, she just convinces you other ways, though, like if you go out with her she'll buy you some stuff that you want (even if she already always does that) especially books to read together or sweets to eat (she eats most of them)

Cuddling is your favorite pastime because both of you love it. She gets to be affectionate with you, and you get to just relax in peace.....well not really because gojo still keeps talking to you even when you're cuddling. It's mostly just whatever comes to her mind plus a few compliments, cause to her she can never compliment you too much, while you just listen to her and nod occasionally

She's also incredibly affectionate in public. She will hug you and pepper your face in kisses no matter who's around. Sometimes, she'll even just start making out on the spot for no reason other than she missed doing it. When she pulls back, she just smiles like always while you look at her with a deadpan expression a bit annoyed that everyone is watching you now

All of your friends genuinely don't understand how you can deal with her, utahime and nanami, especially, you're calm and.....not annoying and gojo is....gojo they have no idea how you can stand her much less love her. they both spit their tea and almost fainted when you announced you were getting married

One time you went to visit her at school because she forgot something and the moment she saw you she immediately tackled you in a hug and started kissing you while telling you how much of an amazing husband you are. Meanwhile her students (except for megumi) were like:"YOU TWO ARE MARRIED!?" Cause they honestly thought you would get sick of gojo eventually

"Of course we're married, y/n is the love of my life and he's soooo handsomely and caring and amazing, *sighs* I'm so lucky"

".....can you please stop hugging now, everyone is looking.....and it's kinda tight"

"Oh yeah sorry babe"

[midnightcatharsis]

I don't think that the meeting has even taken place yet. They may be waiting to hand him a cease and desist letter during the meeting. Would he listen though? He seems very committed. Can they legally even do it? It was just a cosplay 🙃

It was also pointed out to me that there is another option:

I can't change the poll but let's pretend "jayvik will be canon" is instead "jayvik will be more canon than it's now". While canonising it so fast may seem implausible a collab with some hints is more likely. I wouldn't be so sure the last option is just a joke either XDD All possibilities seem very weird to me. Forcing somebody to stop cosplaying or talking about a ship would be wild. Them specifically going after a collab with nr 1 jayvik truether right after his stream but making sure it's not related in any shape or form to jayvik would be strange. Canonising jayvik so soon seems implausible. All things considered, I really think that "Linke is trying to murder bbno$" is somehow the most probable of all 4. Like that guy must be livid right now. 😂 Ok, it's a joke but it's still the most realistic option. 😂😂

So...

Right after the famous jayvik stream there was an announcement:

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

convex and how I headcanon vex hybrids <3

cw: past abuse, cannibalism mention (yayyy)

there's something about the hierarchical and controlling nature of the evoker / vex relationship that is really speaking to me right now. mostly because I like my blorbos (scar and cub) to have a weird thing going on but also just because I like it when metaphor. something about only existing to be summoned as a weapon. something about not having a choice in what you do. something about...

ok wait I have thoughts I must ramble under the cut

I'm headcanoning vex (hybrids) as very easily controlled. if someone with enough grandeur and power (or perceived power) comes along they can get swept up in that person's instruction and lose themselves. I think vex hybrids have little vex voices bouncing around in their minds, and leaning into subservience pleases them just as much as violence, trickery, and cannibalism do.

I like to refer to them as 'the vex', a sort of abstract concept that is basically just the same as saying 'instinct', except they can definitely hear those little guys. example: 'this action pleases the vex'.

obviously this can be exploited and abused. vex hybrids love taking orders and being subservient but it is obviously unhealthy to do as a person with autonomy. those who know how to exploit the vex instincts can do some real damage.

so a way of resisting / lessening the risk is for the vex hybrid to make themselves their own master. scar uses this approach masterfully. he likes to take control. to speak with big wide gestures and hold so much energy and charisma that he himself couldn't listen to anyone else. he tells himself he is the one giving the instructions. he holds the power and no one can take that from him. he is always a leader, a conman, a mayor, a theme park designer, a zookeeper. someone who holds a certain amount of power. and that makes the vex happy enough on its own. there's very little risk of getting hurt.

cub sort of goes the opposite direction. I see him as more well-adjusted anyway, more able to stay in control of himself. but when he falls, he falls hard. he goes a bit crazy and manic with vex instincts. but to keep it at bay he acts unfazed and nonchalant about everything. holds power in the art of not giving a damn. no one can control him because he simply does not care.

he just has a much better grasp of the little vex voices in his head.

anyway, the potential for tragic backstories and metaphors <3

so, I headcanon scar as a born / summoned vex. vex hybrids aren't natural, they have to be summoned by an evoker hybrid. some evokers are fine. nice, even, to their vexes. but they have ultimate power and control over them, and vexes are usually summoned to be used as a weapon, or bodyguard. there is a power dynamic at play and it is inescapable.

scar's evoker, I think, was not very kind. it could be seen as an abusive relationship, in a way. and I think that could be taken in either the abusive parent or the abusive partner direction, depending on how you want to look at it. I think scar was summoned and came in fully grown - as in, he didn't quite have a childhood and he didn't have the same learning curve a child does. the reason for an evoker summoning ritual necessitates that the vex hybrid has some base knowledge of the world and is capable of acting independently. you can't exactly summon a bodyguard who doesn't know how to fight.

still, it can symbolise several types of relationship, depending on if the evoker takes a more guiding (parental) role, or a more intimate (partner) role. the latter has definitely got more potential to basically always be bad, for obvious reasons.

anyway sorry scar for the trauma. this is why he's so vigilant now. but he will also have moments where he reverts back to a mindset where he wants to just find an evoker (or anyone) to guide him, so he can stop being in control. it sounds nice, to his vex. good.

if he fell into a bad place for whatever reason, and stumbled upon someone willing to take advantage of that, he would so easily go back to old patterns. yeah <3

I see cub as a turned vex. someone who was once human but decided to become a vex. and I think he did it because of scar. they're freaks like that. I think this means that cub doesn't have the same tragic backstory as scar, but he still understands where things can go wrong.

also I think they sort of can communicate telepathically. not with words, but more with feelings. just one Look can show everything. they're so vex ^-^

(END NOTE: because I cant stop making things about stupid Grian and his stupid ocd. imagine the absolute horror the poor bastard goes through when scar says 'oh yeah Im really easy to manipulate I basically obey any order given to me by anyone with too much authority ^-^'. Grians dumb ass starts running through every interaction they've ever had like ohhhh no </3 did I do that ?!?!?!) (he didn't)

[onerockandroiitoomany]

my thoughts after seeing stex wembley :D

I saw the 25/1/25 Matinee!

We had a few swings/understudies on- Scott Hayward as Rusty, Lara Vina Uzcatia as Greaseball, Asher Forth as Electra, Jamie Cruttenden as Lumber, Jessie Angell as Slick, Red as Green Arrow, Charles Butcher as Orange Flash, Sam Gallacher as Killerwatt, Bethany Rose Lythgoe as Wrench and Gary Sheridan as Volta. They all did incredible!

I adore the little remixes they have of cut songs from the show that play in the lobby! I didn't notice them at first but I swear my ears pricked up when I realised I could hear the melody of There's Me! I think the full list of remixes were There's Me, Next Time You Fall in Love, A Lotta Locomotion and Right Place, Right Time (Please tell me if I've missed any!)

This is the first show I've ever been to where there's been a safety briefing beforehand! The staff are all incredibly professional although they aren't miced up, so if you are hard of hearing you may want to grab one beforehand to ask them to run you through everything.

We had a show stop! I was actually pretty hyped about this because I'd heard about them happening a few times and as someone with the tiniest experience running theatre tech I wanted to see how it worked! Everything was fine and it was sorted quickly. The stop happened right at the end of Crazy since the house lights kept flicking on and off.

The show sounds so much better in person! I've listened to the cast recording and seen a few bootlegs and the criticism that it's hard to understand is definitely because people are watching recordings of the show. I have auditory processing issues and was realising what some of the lyrics were mid-song when I was in the theatre!

I was sat trackside in the locomotive seats and I'm so glad I didn't buy a cheaper ticket because I could see the entire track, and so much happened directly in front of me! The crash during race 2 happened right where I was sitting, and Dinah and Porter were cheering for the final race in the aisle. At one point, Lumber skated right into the barrier and when I jumped, he turned around and said "Didn't see you there!" which I thought was so cute!

If you want cast interactions and you're near the track, cheer during the races! clap along to songs! of course, being trackside helps, but simply show how much you're loving the show and it pays off. The cast are absolutely incredible with interacting with the audience mid-show as well as during the megamix, and I was so happy with how many little moments that I got to see so close up! If you're recording the megamix, look up at the performers and not at your phone, too!

The only downside of this is that sometimes your view will be blocked- I missed a bit of one of the songs because Tassita was positioned directly in front of me and I couldn't see past! However, the cast are almost constantly moving, so you'll be alright.

I truly can't recommend the locomotive trackside seats enough- there's never any turning around and craning your neck during the races to see what's going on!

During the races, there are live camera feeds which show up on the screens around the theatre. I didn't notice it for a while, but it's the marshalls with the cameras, and it really makes you feel like you're watching a race!

Speaking of the marshalls, they're absolutely incredible! Some of the tricks they pull off are insane to see, and sometimes I felt like I was cheering for them more than the skate stunts!

There have been a few little tweaks made since the recording of the bootleg that was floated around. They're mostly just a few words changed in lines, but there's still new things to see!

Seeing all the tech live is breathtaking. It's one thing to see a video, but so many moments completely took my breath away, especially I Am the Starlight.

I've got so much more appreciation for Pearl and the Freights as characters now. Not that I didn't like them before, but I definitely love them more after the show!

By the end of Act 1, I had already decided I needed to see the show again! I felt like everything could have taken twice as long and I still would have loved it.

In short- if you can see this show please do! It is entertaining, thrilling, and absolutely worth your money no matter where you're sitting!

[dixieconley]

"I'm terrified and I can't sleep.  I don't know what he's going to do next.  What he's going to take away from us.  What fresh haran he's going to visit on us."

Fox sighed.  This conversation repeated itself with every trooper who entered his office.  More his officers than the rank and file, as the latter tended to go first to their own superiors.  Who then ended up in front of Fox, their own fear and anxiety multiplied by the number of their men who'd come to them with the same concerns.  The latest 'guidelines' handed down to the Guard by the Chancellor's office.

"There isn't anything we can do," Fox told Thire as gently as he could.  It wasn't very.  Coruscant made Fox even more cynical than he'd already been.  "We aren't even considered sentient.  Even if saying something wouldn't get me decommissioned, who would listen?  The only thing we can do is hope some of us live through it."

Thire laughed mirthlessly.  "Because most of us won't be."

Fox sighed.  "No.  It doesn't look like it.  The Senate backs him and it's our job to defend him, them and the Republic."

That earned him another humorless laugh.  "And it's not like the Senate will do anything to stop him."

Fox tried not to recall the three reconditioning orders and the single decommissioning order that had crossed this desk this week alone.  "No," he replied.  "Most of them are just as bad."

"Or worse."

"Or worse," Fox agreed.  "But there's nothing we can do."

"Tats killed himself last night," Thire said abruptly.  "And Domino tried to after his shift before Triage jabbed him with a hypo."

Fox closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.  He'd known about Tats, but hadn't heard anything from Triage today.  When word had passed around that their rations were being cut in half and their request for medical supplies had been denied entirely, morale plummeted.  Finding out yesterday that they'd been assigned responsibility for covering CorSec's patrols, thus reducing their downtime to six hours a day -- which included eating, hygiene, training *and* sleeping?  No one in the Guard was having an easy time of it.

Not even Fox.

"There's nothing we can do," he repeated.  "The only option we have is to accept it and do our best to survive."

Thire snorted.  "Even if half of the Guard suicides."

"Even then," Fox agreed.  "After all, there are a million more of us where we came from."

The other commander stared at him.  "That isn't funny."

Fox just smiled.  It wasn't a nice smile.  "I happen to find it hysterical."

Thire's face hardened and he shoved his helmet back on.  "If that will be all, sir?"

"That's all," Fox replied.  He held himself straight until the door closed behind the other commander.

Fox understood where Thire was coming from.  He really did.  It's just that it was really karking funny that *anyone* expected Palpatine or the Senate to do the right thing when they couldn't even treat their bought and paid for troops as sentient.  Yes, he and his vod'e were clones.  Yes, their circumstances and training made them virtually interchangeable.  But a Senate who would starve and overwork their own protectors with the justification that any who died could be easily replaced with another was a body who valued only their own luxuries and personal power and cared nothing for sentient life.

His, his brothers' or their own constituents.

This was the Republic they served.  Were expected to be loyal to.

Fox wondered when it would occur to the Senate that the people they were grinding into dust carried weapons and walked freely among them.

And when he himself would break.

Because Fox wasn't going to kill himself.  Oh, no.  For now, conditions, while poor, were survivable.  Not ideal, but survivable.  Vod'e could go for longer on less than any natborn and Fox didn't earn his name for being stupid.  There were ways to manage the current situation.

That didn't mean things couldn't get worse.  If and when the time came that he could no longer keep the majority of his men alive, Fox wanted his death to be *meaningful*.

And he could envision no better way to make his point than to take the people responsible with him.

[auguryofjellyfish]

You talked a bit about some of the episodes yesterday but what did you think of [Flat Rejection]

oh boy, that's an interesting one.

first point I want to get out of the way: I think the way Mai is acting is a little immature. not unreasonable, there's a difference. but I, personally, will never condone ignoring someone and avoiding them if it's not absolutely necessary to protect yourself, because that can completely destroy people mentally.

Yanagi was kind of an ass in the trial in general…I think the worst he did was harping on Watari for doing damage to her room and not getting punished, that was COMPLETELY unnecessary and very ungentlemanly of him. at least Watari doesn't seem to hold it against him.

but other than that, his intentions towards Mai were good. he WAS right about her being too reckless. before she was abducted, he was very deferential and cautious with her, almost demure with his suggestions. all in all trying to be respectful. he was warning her repeatedly to stop damaging the door, pleading with her, trying to get her to see reason, and she didn't listen. then… she disappeared, and came back unconscious, bloody, and bruised black.

…what else was he supposed to feel, than that it was HIS fault this happened? because he didn't try hard enough to protect her?

he was trying to take her opinions, her strength, her independence into account, and look where that got her. no matter what, he's going to feel responsible, he needs to help people, he can't just be a bystander. he NEEDS to protect those who he feels need protecting. even if it's from themselves. I understand his point of view. he can't just leave people be, he can't let injustice stand, he won't turn his eyes away from people getting harmed. he's proactive. and most importantly… he really, really cares about Mai specifically.

now, Mai. Mai is incredibly strong, physically and mentally. she can take care of herself, she takes care of others. she is fiercely independent. but she's not made of stone. she's not unshakeable. there was a time when she was weak. when she was scared. when all she cared about was survival above all else. and she hated it, not being in control, of herself, of her actions, of her own fate, and she never, ever wants to feel like that again. and it's like…who the fuck does YANAGI think he is? to butt into HER life and HER decisions like that? to her, he has 0 reason to do that. it makes no sense because she doesn't need protection. she doesn't need a knight in shining armour, what the hell? it feels like Yanagi is undermining the strength she's been working so hard to cultivate. which is incredibly insulting. she can handle herself. …but she can't. not 100% of the time. Mai was so, so shaken after she came back from being tortured. she was scared. she was made completely powerless. she collected herself eventually. rested, gathered her strength again, because life goes on. because it was horrible, but it wasn't her first time. she can't just break apart here, that's not who she is. she has to keep moving forward.

…but Yanagi saw Mai's tears. he saw her break down. he heard her cries. and he didn't forget it. the sight was seared into his brain. he never, ever wanted for something like that to happen again.

…and here we are. yes- he was being controlling. Yanagi is a very, very passionate person, and the terror he felt when he saw her disappear, and the heartbreak from when he saw her cry from pain and fear- it was too much. it still doesn't mean his behaviour was appropriate. just understandable.

what he did was wrong. but let's circle back to my first point- Mai ignoring him. I really dislike that. she has every right to be angry with him, but this is childish. and borderline cruel….she should at least hear him out, one last time. let him say his piece, and then decide whether to thwack him over the head and tell him to fuck off forever or not.

being in this sort of limbo is extremely bad for Yanagi's mental state. stuck ruminating on his own thoughts, he has to supply his own reasoning because he doesn't know hers. he thinks that his behaviour was threatening instead of invasive, which isn't true. and now he's spiraling, wondering if he's destined to hurt people like his (grand)father, if he is even capable of treating them right, capable of care.

and of course he is! Yanagi is NOT his father. he has bad tendencies, but he knows he acted rashly and on his emotion. most of the time he's doing his best to care about other people's comfort and wellbeing. his hot-headedness pushed him to make huge mistakes, like the ice fairy incident and trying to control Mai, but that's not who he is. he is not cruel, violent, and selfish. he has flaws, he's had bad examples, and he hurt people, a lot, but he's not irredeemable.

and just like Wada said- this is a high-stress situation. this environment is designed to break them, to push them to the brink. to kill them. and he doesn't want her to DIE. his reaction was that of a well-meaning, but overprotective parent, who saw his child get bit by a dog a bit too hard, and got so frightened he tried to bundle her up in bubble wrap.

still patronizing, but it doesn't mean he's a MONSTER, an abuser. and he's not destined to be one.

but as long as this silence persists, he will continue to invent his own arguments, which will make sense to him, but will be blown completely out of proportion because he feels HORRIBLE, and he needs to self-flaggelate as a way to punish himself.

anyway. they need to talk.

[paperbackpanic]

Hello there fellow traveller! I've got a request for you! May I have some scenarios of Jeff The Killer, Ben Drowned, Ticci Toby visiting their s/o's house and their s/o playfully arguing with their siblings yelling like it's an everyday household?? 🤣🤭

Reader with their siblings:

Pastas visiting reader's house and seeing them play fighting with their siblings

A/n: I have two sisters, we argue a lot not really play arguing but yeah. This will be mostly based on my experience so sorry if some parts are way too specific, I can't really do much about that.

Jeff

💥 Been there done that. He has a brother too so he knows how fun this can be.

💥 Will take your side, if you get caught off guard he will cover for you.

💥 Discourage it if gets much violent though, specially if your siblings are younger than you. But like only extreme violence, he is ok with hitting but throwing a knife on your siblings eye is way too much...

💥 Will help your siblings get vengeance if he's pissed at you. Pranking you mostly

💥 Overall he just doesn't care, sometimes he finds it pretty entertaining

Ben

💥 Only child. Doesn't know how sibling banter look like but finds entertaining to watch you argue

💥 Non ironically will eat popcorn while watching the fight, will also throw popcorn at you both.

💥 if you vent to him about the fights will try to comfort you but is not very good at it since he doesn't know what is like having siblings

💥 Will take the side of the one who entertains him the most

💥 Honestly couldn't care less, sibling or not is just a playful banter. He doesn't think it changes anything if is family or not

Toby

💥 He misses his sister way to much to encourage playful banter. You'll need to reassure him that y'all are ok and is just for funzies

💥 Mostly stays out of it but will stop you if he thinks is getting too out of hand

💥 Will try to help you fight less with your siblings if it's a problem, specially if your reason is something along the lines of "I hurt them first so they will be tough and not be hurt by other people like I was" which is a problematic way of thinking but you can't really help yourself...Is a tough battle but eventually you'll fight less (hopefully)

💥 if any of you get upset he will listen to the vent and comfort you. Your sibling or you, either way he will listen and emphasize

💥 100% will make sure you make amends with your siblings as fast as possible if you fight hard. Because you never know when you could lose them.

[consolecadet]

Tips for freshly diagnosed celiac-havers

Someone I knew asked me for advice after getting diagnosed with celiac. I gave her some. I might as well share them with you as well!

I am not a doctor, and not your doctor, I'm just some guy with celiac disease. Ask an actual doctor for help with medical decisions. I'm in the northeastern United States, so you might have to go hunting for equivalent resources if you live elsewhere.

Are you done with testing?

If you had a tTG-IgA blood test with an elevated result, or a doctor just told you you have celiac, but you have not gotten a biopsy via endoscopy to confirm your diagnosis, WAIT! You may not want to stop eating gluten quite yet. You have to be eating gluten for the biopsy test to work.

It is not fun to stop eating gluten, start feeling better, and then have to start eating it again just to prove that you really have celiac disease.

Your choice in this area is personal. If you know you're going to have to wait years to get an endoscopy, it would probably be healthier and more pleasant to stop eating gluten now and then do a "gluten challenge" for a few weeks before your endoscopy.

If it's unlikely you will ever get an endoscopy (too expensive, inaccessible, phobia, etc), there's no point in waiting for something that may never come -- just stop eating gluten now.

But if you can schedule an endoscopy for a month or two from now, it's probably best to keep eating gluten until the endoscopy. Sorry.

Please eat food. Like, enough food.

The most important tip I got early in my diagnosis is that if you stop eating gluten and you start feeling crummy -- dizzy, cranky, tired, etc -- it's not because you're going through "gluten detox" or some shit. It's because you're hungry!

It's easy to accidentally start eating way less when you start eating gluten free. A celiac diagnosis can make you want to avoid eating because food feels scary and stressful. Cutting a major ingredient from your diet without knowing what to replace it with can also leave you undernourished.

You really need nourishment when you are recovering from celiac! Your body need energy from food to use on healing your intestines. If you've lived with celiac for a long time, you probably have vitamin deficiencies you're trying to bounce back from. The emotional difficulty of adjusting to a new diagnosis is also much easier to face if you're not starving.

All of this advice applies equally regardless of body size. Yes, even if you are very fat. If you're hungry, eat.

Where to find information about gluten-free food

The gold standard for basic celiac info is celiac nonprofits. There's a ton of info about celiac disease and the gluten free diet on their websites. I recommend:

Celiac Disease Foundation

Beyond Celiac

You know what's not a legitimate celiac nonprofit? Gluten Free Society. Do not listen to anything GFS or its founder Peter Osborne have to say. Osborne is not an actual doctor, nor is he doing actual nutrition science. He is a chiropractor (i.e. quack) so bad that his state's board of chiropractors threatened to revoke his license. Don't let anyone tell you celiac means you can't have corn!!! Truly, wtf @ this guy.

Google's AI summaries for searches like "Is XYZ food gluten free" are often inaccurate (because they pick up sites like GFS). I always click through to the source to be sure. "Is XYZ food celiac safe" sometimes gives more useful search results.

I also like this presentation "I Have Celiac" for a super in-depth guide to having and living with celiac. The OP made it to show to loved ones to explain their deal, but it's so thorough that I found it helpful for myself when I got my diagnosis.

I want to buy food that's safe for celiac...how do I do that?

You should be able to find gf food at any supermarket. The selection of baked goods and processed foods may be lacking, depending on where you live, but produce, raw unmarinated cuts of meat, and other whole foods like milk and eggs are generally safe even if not labeled gf.

A lot of supermarkets have an indicator on the price labels to help you -- for example, at Stop and Shop, the labels on the shelf have an orange circle that says "gf" in it under foods that are gluten free. It's best to check the packaging too, since Stop and Shop sometimes gets it wrong!

Something that says "gluten free" or "certified gluten free" on it is safe for celiac*. Something that doesn't say "gluten free" on the packaging may also be safe, so long as it also doesn't contain wheat, barley, or rye, or have a wheat allergy warning under the ingredient list. Here are some tips for what to look for on ingredient labels.

Labels can get real complicated real fast, so just use your best judgment. It's okay if you don't get it right 100% of the time. The goal when living with celiac is to reduce gluten exposure as much as possible, not to hermetically seal yourself in a deep well where a single molecule of gluten can never possibly reach your tongue. You, and only you, get to decide how much exposure risk you're comfortable with.

My favorite grocery store post-diagnosis is Wegmans. My nearest one is a bit of a hike, so I don't go that often, but it's such a treat when I do. Wegmans has a huge gluten free aisle with gf staples and fun snacks, plus lots of food items that can be harder to find gf, like fresh pasta and baked goods.

I also like the online health food store iHerb for finding new gf snacks and ingredients. You can filter the whole store by dietary needs, so you can also find gf skincare/makeup items and supplements if you want. I have a discount link for 20% off: https://secure.iherb.com/rewards/rewards-program?rcode=DRO2876

The best way to find restaurants that can accommodate celiac is Find Me Gluten Free. It's essentially a gluten-free Yelp. People use the site/app to review of restaurants for 1) what cross-contact precautions the restaurant takes and 2) crucially, if the food was good!

Gf food can be expensive, ngl. The National Celiac Association has advice for how to save money on gf food, including a database of food pantries that set aside gf food for people who need it.

GF ~influencers~

If you want to follow some people who Get It, I like:

Phil Hates Gluten (on IG, TT, and YT) has EoE (another gluten-related autoimmune condition). He reviews gf food and restaurants and makes silly videos about the gf experience.

Robyn's Gluten-free Living on YouTube has gf baking videos and advice about traveling, eating at restaurants, saving money on gf food, and more.

Here on Tumblr, @gluttonysansgluten and @certifiedceliac (and I would love more recommendations for celiac related Tumblr accounts!)

Having celiac is really hard. But it does get easier.

I felt overwhelmed and honestly kind of doomed when I got my celiac diagnosis. For the first few months I felt like I couldn't trust any food and I was going to be totally excluded at all social events forever. It sucked. But then I got a lot of practice figuring out which foods were safe for me, advocating for myself at restaurants and when my friends were planning get-togethers involving food, and now things are really not that bad. And I feel way, way less sick.

If you feel overwhelmed or don't know how to interpret the 1 million sources online telling you what's gluten free, I really recommend seeing a dietician. Your best bet is a weight-neutral or HAES dietician who mentions celiac somewhere on their website or online profile. You can generally count on those folks to give you practical information about how to live with celiac, as well as emotional support as you adjust to what is probably a pretty big and stressful change in your life and how you view yourself!

You got this!

*Please do not talk about Cheerios on my post. Make your own.

[nrc-asteryn-crew]

Something about the way the tone the phantom used, raw with emotions and fueled by corrupted magic induced rage, reminded Aros of Crimson, in a way. The way you could tell by their tone, that they held certainty and yet resignment towards a fate they resented, yet have accepted all the same, was a similar trait between them.

When Crimson had...

No. He stopped, forcing himself to think about the present again. Now wasn't the time for comparisons like that. Especially not like this. He could reflect on all he could have done then at a later date. He could do it right this time. He would.

"You should accept for that very reason, because in a world where kindness is more often than not shrouded in lies and greed, true kindness is something to be cherished, and not taken for granted, or even expected. You may not be used to it, and that is no fault of yours, but it is something we all crave in the end, no matter who we are, or what we've done. It is a part of being human, after all. Refusing yourself the right to be cared for is cruel. You can't make it through everything alone. Nor should you have to."

As Aros spoke, Yuuto's attention was caught by the words. He stilled, listening to the words he was saying with a slight sort of interest, gaze hardening the more he heard. After a short while, he just went back to engaging with Xen, letting him perch on his arm, gently scratching under his chin with a frown etched onto his expression.

---

Kiyuu stayed quiet, pondering the soft question. She was over the moon that she hadn't been shut down right away, as she'd feared. Now she just had to keep going.

"...But- why..? Why- why should that be? There- there are people you care about here, right? People who- who care about you all the same, who must be worrying about you right now, worrying about their friend, I'm sure of it. If-, if you gave them a chance to see your true feelings for- for what they really are, they'd notice, and they'd care. You are important to some people, I bet."

She answered. She couldn't really say that she didn't get it at all, though. Sometimes, locking herself away from everyone really did seem like an appealing idea. Even if she knew it wouldn't really fix anything, the urge never really stopped persisting.

But more than that, she craved the connections she has in this place, her friendships. They were what kept her here, and she could never bring herself to do anything that kept her away from that.

"...You give- glue friend vibes to me- ya'know..? Like- the kind of friend in a group that keeps everyone together- the one that- everyone loves and- and appreciates, the one whos always there for everyone, but- never really offers them the- the chance to do the same to you... and that's not- fair to anyone. Especially you."

She added, after a short moments pause. She didn't really know where it came from, and she ridiculed herself for prattling on and on. Something about her being sentimental about friendships must have brought it out of her, she thought distantly.

A notification flashes across phone screens everywhere throughout NRC. The radio podcast, NRTea has gone live once more!

"Hello, hello, dearest listeners! And welcome to another episode of NRTea, the hottest tea party on sages island! I'm your host, Chamomile-"

"and I am Earl Grey"

"And oh boy do we have a story for you today! Take it away, Earl!"

"...alright.

As of late, there have been brambles spiralling up and encasing parts of the Ramshackle dorm. The brambles themselves seem generally harmless, as do the roses that fall from them, but if you prick yourself on the thorns, it would be quite an unpleasant sensation, so I'd suggest exercising some extra caution when visiting for now."

"Yup, yup! If you've got a friend or two living in the dorm out there, go check on em and make sure they're doing okay!"

"I know I myself must check in on my dearest companions soon..."

"Well that's it for now! We've been your hosts, Chamomile-"

"And Earl Grey,"

"And this has been NRTea. Stay thirsty, dear listeners!"

The stream continues on for a bit before cutting off, though.

"Hey... James?"

"Yes?"

"Y'know how Yuna has been locking up lately and stuff? Says she's been super sick recently."

"Mhm... It's quite concerning, if I am being honest. I haven't seen her for a while..."

"...I wonder if Yuna is alright. I hope she doesn't get hurt with all those brambles."

"...Me too, Lewis. Me too."

(✨YUNA OVERBLOT STUFF YAHOO!!!

-✨mod, @night-raven-miscellany. Technically James and Lewis, too, but I haven't been adding them fhdjfj)

Kiyuu stared down at her phone with a frown as the podcast ended. She didn't say anything, prompting Aros to speak up from behind her.

"...Lucky you haven't been over there for a while, isn't it?"

He spoke, giving Kiyuu a faint smile, leaning in just a little closer while dabbing a makeup brush into the eyeshadow pallette in his hand, before applying it, making slightly quicker movements than previously, already being able to tell what Kiyuu was thinking.

They both knew the signs by now from even just a glance. With the context the podcast had accidentlly given... Something bad was about to happen. That much they could tell.

His expression morphed back into a frown as he watched how Kiyuu's face seemed to go through a cycle of conflicting emotions, confirming what he'd thought.

"...Yuuto's close by, though. And he definitely won't hesitate to head straight for Ramshackle once he suspects something's happening..."

There was more silence, only disturbed by the quiet sounds of rummaging through makeup and supplies from Aros. They'd been in the middle of testing out some makeup samples Aros had been sent for a promotion when they'd decided to tune into NRTea's podcast in the background.

"...Would you like me to quickly finish applying your makeup before we go?"

Aros offered, picking up an eyelash curler, and tilting Kiyuu's head up gently with his pointer finger.

"But-"

"Ah- Let me finish now. If you're worried about time, I'll change up our plan, do something quick, yet effective, instead. Don't stress out more than you need to. It won't do you any good."

"Mmh... Okay then. I'd- really like that. Thank you..."

Kiyuu conceeded softly, a silent exchange of gratitude from Kiyuu between them, Aros nodding in response, expression neutral as he continued.

"...Heh. I bet he's real excited right now. I worry a lot for him when he does this sort of thing, y'know. Just doing whatever he wants with no consideration to anyone else's feelings..."

Kiyuu mumbled, an underlying bitterness that she never quite felt wholeheartedly in her voice.

"That's just how he is. The only thing for us to do now is help them both out, hm?"

"Ah- right..! Yuna, I heard their name was, I think... I hope they're alright..."

"As do I."

Aro's commented as he stood, reaching instinctively for his hand mirror, handing it to Kiyuu as he hastily, yet still neatly, tidied up his supplies.

"Satisfactory?"

He asked, turning his head around to gauge Kiyuu's opinion.

"Yeah! More than, for sure."

Kiyuu agreed, handing back the mirror. She felt a little better now, the familiar feeling of her makeup calming her nerves ever so slightly.

After a few short moments she stood, hastily reaching to fix up her hair into a more practical fashion.

"Okay! Okay. Let's go! We shouldn't waste anymore time."

She announced, projecting bounds more confidence than she actually felt.

"Yes, let's. Perhaps we'll even arrive before anything too disastrous occurs on either party's end..."

Aros responded. Though somehow, they both doubted that much of a miricle would happen for them today...

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

i have only been listening to russ's last 3 albums for like a week or two now and i can't stop