#they did something to me during wild life. something strange

[mxmarsbars]

wild life impdog summarized

[inkskinned]

sometimes i think about the span of human existence and how if you spread your arms out in a long line and said my body is acting as a poem of all the universe's birthdays, the smallest sliver of your furthest nail would be our entire history as humans. and you, doing this, feeling your sternum crack into place because you're-getting-old and all of your bones crunch these days: you are the universe, measuring its own timeline. you're the memory of a starburst saying i gave birth to humans at the tip of my finger.

and i think about how crocodiles have been around for way longer than that fingernail and how sharks have been here forever too and how there are sea cucumbers that understand time like an angel would; their ages so astronomically long that i get dizzy looking down into them. i think about my dog, and how i am so fantastically ancient to him (an impossible number, staggering) and how, at the same time, i can order my life in eras of pets-i-have-loved and how my childhood died when my cat did.

and i wonder if the earth does the same thing, if nature keeps time in epochs. if the tree in the house where i grew up said oh a new family and got upset when one by one we all left for college and left behind our climbing and screaming and birdhouses. that same tree collapsed during a bad storm this winter; heartbroken. the whole inside was a hull, shivering and empty. it missed our roof by a whisper, almost like it held itself together so it couldn't pass a hole into the house it's been looking into for years now. the people who took it away clicked their teeth. it was a hundred years old, at least.

there are things that went extinct in my lifetime. there are memories that don't extend to the tip of the finger. four years ago, for the first time: i saw a bald eagle in the wild. ever since they've been sprouting strangely in my life, their origami frames hunched in a racket of brown feathers. something in the motion of wild animals braced against the new england weather - like we all (all of nature, all of the fingertip) have the same shared hate when it's cold sorrow. like in years and years and years of history we never really evolved a better method than to close your eyes and brace yourself against it.

i saw a butterfly today, staggering drunkenly in the early spring air. it's too early for her other friends. i want to tuck her back into bed and say it's not your time yet! her life like a pinprick in my own. in butterfly school they'd have to stretch out their scales and say - at the end of your furthest wing is where you are in the life of a human. she is in my life, isn't she. something about how my heart seized at the sight of her, so brave and lonely and unfair; and how it snowed yesterday (and will snow again, probably), and how, in spite of that, she was out there and flying.

something about waking up this morning and thinking - i'm too old for this. how my hips and knees and back all make new noises. how the other day at a grocery store i picked up the gloves an older woman had dropped, how she'd laughed and thanked me - i can't bend down like you young folks anymore.

something about the theory that there's been no visible life on other planets because we are too early. that we are the first butterfly of spring. all this bravery. we know it is probably hopeless, and still we go. breathless, the same tactic - we brace against the cold.

[luveline]

roan and eddie fic , eddie has a dream that he never met reader & he just feels so miserable cuz he cannot imagine life without her

🤍🤍🤍

“Daddy, wake up.” 

Eddie groans. “Five more minutes.” 

“No, wake up, we’ve got school!”

“I don’t go to school, little miss,” he protests, forcing his eyes open as he sits up.

His bedroom feels empty. After a few moments, he realised it isn’t his bedroom, or it is, but it’s the wrong one. “What?” he mumbles. 

“Daddy,” Roan says again, climbing onto his high bed with a grunt. Her hair is wild, a dark cloud around her head. “We are so late.” 

“Where’s Y/N?” 

She frowns. “What?” 

“Where’s mom, baby? Did she already leave?” 

“Did you hit your head?” she asks, giggling, a nervousness threading through it. 

“What?” he asks. But he’s looking around, and he’s thinking about it, and you’re not here. “Who am I talking about?” 

“I don’t know,” Roan says, shrugging. She crawls across the blankets and plonks herself down in his lap. Eddie kisses her hair, and she’s perfect, but he can’t help feeling like something is very wrong. 

“This is a weird dream,” Roan says. 

Eddie wakes up hard. Disorientated by the sudden change in position, the lack of baby in his lap, he flinches and yanks on his own hair trying to sit. He can remember the dream for a few seconds, the knowing you weren’t there and the posters on his bedroom wall, but then looks around at the walls of his current bedroom and starts to forget. Dreams are so fleeting. The details slough off and leave behind a single feeling of loneliness. 

“You okay?” 

He rubs his eyes, fingertips pressed deep into soft material. “Think I just had a bad dream.” 

“What happened?” 

You’re croaking. He must’ve woken you shifting the mattress. The alarm clock blinks an upsetting 4:23AM, casting a weak red light onto your arm. Eddie grabs you without thinking about it beforehand, his fingers too tight on your elbow. 

Your jaw goes soft as you lean down to kiss his hand. “Eddie?” 

He feels like crying. Startled by his own emotion, he takes his hand back and climbs out of bed. 

“Eddie, sweetheart,” you say. You sound upset, but Eddie can’t deal with crying in front of you again, it hasn’t even been two weeks since he cried over Roan getting her Student of the Week award. She looked so small on the stage. 

Eddie attempts to flush the strange feeling away with two handfuls of cold water at the bathroom sink. He can hear you getting out of bed, your socked feet on the hallway floor, the creaky door as you slide into the bathroom. You wrap your arms around him from behind without saying anything, too in love to bother asking, your face pressed hard to his naked shoulder. “What’s going on?” you ask, “You’re being weird, baby.” 

He tries to hug you backwards. “Sorry.” 

“I think I’m gonna fall over, it’s so early.” 

“Sorry,” he says again, turning and dragging you into his arms. 

“Your hands are still wet, you freak.” 

“Sorry.” He kisses your forehead, feels your arms and your back and remembers that you’re real. 

“Stop saying sorry, since when do I care? You could go swimming in Lover’s Lake during peak hook up season and I’d still want a hug.” 

“That’s disgusting,” he mumbles. 

“Exactly, that’s how much I'm in love with you, Munson.” 

“You know when you’re a Munson, you’ll have to think of something else to call me,” he says. 

It’s the kind of quiet only night time holds, and it’s still so dark. The only light is the orange sunshine night light glowing in the hall to make sure Roan’s not too scared to use the bathroom at night, and it doesn’t do much, but Eddie can see your skin, your hair, the hill of your shoulder and the slope down to your elbow. 

“You can start calling me Munson,” you say. 

“Yeah? Taste of your own medicine?” 

“When did you take your shirt off?” 

“You were sleeping. You’re too warm to cuddle lately, but I still wanted to cuddle,” he mumbles. 

“Cuddle…” 

He yanks you up into his arms. Eddie’s not macho or anything but he can lift you into a hug for a good three seconds, just long enough to kiss you and tuck his nose into the space below your ear. “Stop making fun of me,” he says. 

“I’m not… Well, I am, but it’s not ‘cos I don’t love you. Can we go back to bed now?” 

“You want me to carry you?” he asks, and he means it, he’s gonna treat you like the princess you deserve to feel like from now on. 

“No… last time we tried that we woke Ro and she was grumpy all day,” you say, taking his hand. “Come on, honey, I’m gonna give you a massage. You can’t have bad dreams after that.” 

“What kind of massage?” 

“Deep tissue shoulder massage. And I can throw in a couple of kisses, but only if you tell me about the dream.” 

“I’ll tell you anything you want,” he says. 

You beam at him, sleep in the corners of your eyes but no less beautiful for it. 

[admiringlove]

persuasion. the way writing this was kind of hurting me too ugh. anyway here it is, another part of my @angstober event this year. again, sorry for the delay. and please watch out for some very slight nsfw themes. masterlist of the event can be found here.

you couldn’t keep doing this to yourself.

this endless teetering back and forth. like a newton’s cradle, every action meeting an equal and opposite reaction, but never any resolution.

the first time you left was harrowing. painful in ways you hadn’t thought possible. your chest had burned, your hands had trembled, and every step away from him felt like you were leaving parts of yourself behind. the arguments echoed in your head long after, looping endlessly, even though all you’d truly wanted was his arms around you.

toji’s arms.

but he never gave you that, not when it mattered most. he always seemed so far away during those moments, like his mind was locked in some impenetrable place you could never reach. and next to him, you felt small. you felt like a child fumbling for answers, even though there wasn’t much of an age difference between you.

when you left that first time, you’d told him you’d come back for your things later. you couldn’t bear to stay long enough to pack your life away from his. instead, you’d grabbed the clothes scattered across his apartment—an afterthought of intimacy you thought you’d had—and left.

your place wasn’t a home; it was a shell. the silence there was too loud, suffocating in its starkness, reminding you with every passing second what you’d walked away from, and who you hadn’t yet been able to let go.

your room had become a husk, hollowed out of the life it once held. the absence of him pressed against the walls like a shadow, suffocating and stark. his things weren’t strewn across the floor in that careless, maddening way he always managed, nor did that strange, musky scent linger in the air; the one that clung to his clothes and skin, a scent you once loathed but came to crave. he wasn’t sprawled on your bed, that half-smirk pulling at his lips, looking at you like you were the only thing worth devouring. he wasn’t there to drag you down with a grip that bordered on desperate, kissing you like he needed you to breathe.

no, now the room was just a room. the furniture remained, untouched, like a stage after the curtain had fallen. the fake vines tangled along the walls, the band posters clung stubbornly to their place, and the photographs on the desk smiled back at no one. the bookshelves loomed overhead, brimming with stories you didn’t have the energy to revisit. everything was exactly where it should be, and yet, it all felt wrong. lifeless.

the man you loved wasn’t there. fushiguro toji wasn’t there.

that night, you sighed into the darkness, and when the weight in your chest became unbearable, the tears came. quiet at first, then relentless, soaking into your pillow until it felt like drowning. you woke up to the salt of it still clinging to your cheeks and the heavy dampness beneath your face. the idea of going back to his place—to face him, to gather the pieces of the life you’d left behind—was unbearable. a week passed. seven days of silence so loud it fractured you. no rough hand reaching for yours in the dark, no shared laughter echoing from your phone’s glow. no wild thrill of butterflies thrumming beneath your ribs.

without him, the world dulled, fading into muted shades of grey. the sharpness of living—the chaos of loving him—had bled out. and you were sure he was fine. you could give him that much credit. he was always good at holding you just far enough away that he wouldn’t feel the sting if you left. replaceable. that’s what you must’ve been to him.

but he wasn’t. he could never be.

he was a fever, an affliction, something that sank into your bloodstream and burned. without him, there was nothing but withdrawal. the ache, the longing, the torment of wanting something you knew would destroy you.

and so, after a week of circling the inevitable, you found yourself standing at his door again. he opened it halfway, leaning lazily against the frame, that shit-eating grin plastered on his face like it belonged there.

"finally came back, didn't ya?"

you didn’t rise to the bait, your expression deadened by days of sleepless nights and the hollow ache gnawing at your chest. "i came back to get my shit, loser," you muttered, rolling your eyes as you pushed past him. you kicked off your shoes at the door, out of habit more than anything else, and made a beeline for the bathroom with your bag in tow. he followed close behind, trailing after you like a shadow, until he propped himself against the bathroom doorframe. his arms crossed loosely over his chest, that insufferable smirk still tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you.

"yer really takin' everything, huh?" his voice was low, a little rough around the edges, as his gaze flickered to the toiletries you were gathering. you spared him a glance—brief, cautious, like looking at the sun too long might burn you—and quickly looked away. you couldn’t give him more than that. your heart had been steeling itself for this moment all week, and even then, you weren’t sure how much more you could take.

he didn’t have to do much. the way he leaned there, the way his voice curled around the words, the sheer nearness of him was enough to unravel you. you kept an arm’s length between you, refusing to let him cross that invisible line.

you dropped the shampoo and soap bottles into the bag with a heavy sigh, your hands trembling just slightly. "yeah, that’s what people do when they break up," you said, your voice flat, though the weight of the words nearly crushed you.

for a moment, the air stilled, heavy with unspoken tension. then you heard it—soft, deliberate footsteps closing the gap between you. you didn’t turn. you didn’t need to. you felt him before he reached you, his presence looming in the small space like a storm cloud.

his reflection joined yours in the mirror, his dark eyes fixed on your face. he could see it. your defeat, the way your shoulders slumped, the resignation etched into every line of your expression. you’d known, hadn’t you? you’d known exactly how this would go, as if it were scripted, as if you’d walked willingly into his hands.

his arms slid around your waist, slow and deliberate, pulling you into the warmth you’d been trying to escape. his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, his breath soft, his voice softer.

"come on, we aren’t really broken up. are we?"

you swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the sink as if it could anchor you. "yes, we are—"

"i apologized, didn’t i?" his words were gentle, deceptively so, the kind of tenderness you’d begged for in last week’s shouting match. but he hadn’t given it to you then. no, toji saved that tone for moments like this, when you were already teetering, already crumbling.

his ego was insufferable. a goddamned egomaniac, that’s what he was. fushiguro toji, the man who knew exactly when to break you down and when to scoop up the pieces, holding them just tight enough that you didn’t slip away.

just like that, you ended up in his bed again. the grey hoodie you’d worn lay discarded on the floor, forgotten, as cold unrelenting air seeped through the open window. it didn’t matter—not when he moved the way he did, reckless and punishing, slamming into you like he was trying to shatter something inside you.

as if he knew exactly what he was doing. as if he knew he was breaking your mind beyond repair.

and you’d gone back. over and over, swearing each time would be the last. it never was, though, was it? the only difference between you and toji was that you loved him for all his broken pieces, while he only cared for moments like these—animalistic, primal, and starving.

how many times had you come back to him? how many times had he been conveniently nearby when the weight of your breakdowns became too much to bear? you’d stopped counting after fifteen—somewhere between your pride and his grin, the numbers blurred together.

and now here he was again, in your room, in your bed. the very bed where you’d spent sleepless nights imagining him after you left. it was almost poetic, in the cruelest way.

you looked down at him, your hands resting lightly on his chest as you straddled him, your breaths still uneven. his grunts had quieted now, replaced by the steady rhythm of his breathing, and his arms wrapped around you with a familiarity that made your stomach twist. you were bare to him in every way that mattered, as you always were.

"we can’t keep doing this," you sighed, slipping off of him and onto the bed to lay beside him. your chest rose and fell heavily as you stared at the ceiling, your thoughts spinning.

he tilted his head, a flicker of amusement crossing his face before he rolled his eyes. "ya say that, but then ya call me in the middle of the night for a quick fuck."

his words hit like a slap, but you didn’t flinch. instead, you turned away, pulling the blanket over yourself as if it could shield you from his gaze. "i mean it this time," you murmured, your voice soft but resolute.

he scoffed lightly, a sound that grated against your nerves, but you didn’t look back at him. instead, you closed your eyes, letting the silence stretch between you.

"when you leave this time," you said quietly, "you won’t see me again."

your words hung heavy in the air, the finality of them sinking in even as you felt the mattress shift under his weight. but whether he believed you or not didn’t matter anymore—you were done trying to convince him, or yourself.

"come on, seriously, not this again," he groans, dragging a hand through his hair, the exasperation in his voice palpable. "we had such a good time, and now you wanna dampen the mood with this shit—"

"fushiguro," your voice cuts through his complaint like a blade, sharper and more commanding than it’s ever been. it makes him pause, his spine straightening on instinct, his eyes narrowing as if trying to gauge whether you’re serious.

but you are. more serious than you’ve ever been. "i can’t keep doing this with you. it might be amusing for you, but it’s killing me. yeah? we had a good run."

those words—we had a good run—hit you as hard as they hit him. the taste of them feels foreign in your mouth, bitter and heavy. you never thought you’d say that to him. not to toji, not to the man you still loved with a depth you couldn’t articulate, more than you’d ever admit, more than he’d ever understand. your heart fractures as you sit there, each crack spreading deeper when you see his face harden.

he doesn’t say anything. not right away. instead, he gets up from the bed, the mattress shifting as his weight leaves it, and strides toward the desk chair where his clothes are piled in a careless heap. His movements are brisk, almost robotic, but the slight clench of his jaw betrays the simmering frustration beneath the surface.

"i’ll wait for yer text," he mutters, tugging on his tight black shirt in one swift motion. the fabric clings to his frame, the same way it did hours ago when you first saw him, but now it feels suffocating.

you turn your gaze away. you can’t watch him like this—not when the sight of him could undo everything you’d just resolved. "i blocked your number, remember?" you remind him, your voice flat but steady. "it’s why you came here today."

he freezes for a fraction of a second, the realization dawning on his face. "oh," he mumbles, his tone subdued. "okay. i’ll wait for you to unblock me, then."

"no, you won’t," you reply firmly, forcing yourself to look at him now. every word feels like dragging glass through your throat, but you press on. "this was the last time. it’s not happening again."

his eyes flicker, a brief flash of something you can’t quite place—irritation? disbelief? something deeper he’d never admit?—before he scoffs, shaking his head as if dismissing your declaration entirely. "whatever you say, doll."

"toji." his name falls from your lips with a weight that makes him stop. you sigh, sitting up straighter on the bed. the loose shirt you’d thrown on clings to your body in awkward folds, and your cheeks burn with an unwelcome warmth. you meet his gaze, forcing yourself to hold it this time. "close the door on your way out, yeah? and leave the spare key."

he blinks at you, as if processing the words takes more effort than it should. for a moment, his posture stiffens, his jaw tightens, and you think he might argue—but he doesn’t. instead, he nods. a single, awkward bob of his head, so uncharacteristic of him that it leaves you momentarily disoriented.

you watch as he moves toward the door, his steps slower now, almost uncertain. his broad shoulders seem to hunch slightly, his usual confidence replaced with something hesitant. when he reaches the corridor, his hand hovers over the gold-colored doorknob, suspended in mid-air.

he pauses there, turning his head to glance at your living room. it’s the same space he’s been in countless times, but now, it feels foreign to him—as if he’s unsure where to place himself, unsure if he’s allowed to linger any longer.

then he looks back at you, his dark eyes locking with yours. there’s something in them you don’t want to decipher, something too raw and too late. your mouth goes dry, but you manage a tight-lipped smile, awkward and full of finality.

he doesn’t say goodbye. doesn’t say anything. he just turns back to the door, his movements slow and deliberate as he opens it, the faint creak of the hinges cutting through the silence.

and then, without a second glance, he steps out.

the sound of the door clicking shut feels deafening. final. like the last note of a song you wish you could replay but know you never will.

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[ino-takumas-baggy-sweater]

The Blessing to Your Curse - Part 1 (Ryomen Sukuna x Reader)

Hey y’all I’m back again so soon with another fic, Sukuna’s lover reincarnation (whatever you call it) has me in a chokehold right now and I thought I’d share this with the world. Would like to warn you there is a lot of strange jumping around/pov changes which are indicated by the change in pronouns, I would mark each change but it would get a bit messy after a while so I hope it’s not too hard to follow! ^-^

Reader’s powers involve something I like to call ‘blessed energy’ which is the opposite to cursed energy and is mostly used for healing (reverse blessed energy is used to harm in the same way reverse CE is used to heal) and it’s something I created to use with my writings in the JJK universe. (sometimes I write it a little op because im a self-indulgent piece of shit so for most of what I post I’ll probably dial it back if I use it hehe) The reader has a similar situation to Maki/Mai (MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD) where one twin is restricted and the other has all the energy, and when the one with the energy dies the living twin gains all the power, so I hope that makes sense in context of the story

(PLEASE DON'T HESITATE TO SEND A REQUEST!!!! I'M ALWAYS IN NEED OF NEW PROMPTS AND CHARACTERS TO GO WITH THEM ❤)(I have a post which outlines characters I mostly write for but I'm open to adding to that list!!)

Warnings: mild description of mutilation (sukuna’s transformation), main character death (not described), fluff

Word count: 2.4k

“Ryomen!” You laugh, trying to keep a few steps ahead of the young man who chases after you. Your legs tire easily, body frail and sick despite the immense power flowing through your veins. “I’m coming for you!” He growls playfully, “Better run!” He’s holding back from his top speed, this you know well, but you refuse to let that stop you from trying to keep up with his childish play. Still young, 16 and 17 with him being the older one, you insist that you would rather spend the rest of your life here with him than being shepherded around in the village like a priestess.

This is your only escape from the temple on the hill, only solitude, your time with Ryomen Sukuna is precious and you treat it as such, thinking only of him and his rare smiles. You refuse to let the village’s words taint your view of him, as powerful as he is with his cursed energy there is good in him and you seek to nurture it, for both simple selfish gain and so he doesn’t turn on everyone like they did him. You reach the treeline and race out into the meadow, the grass tall and soft around your waist having stripped down from your daily ceremonial robes into just modest loose undergarments.

He does eventually catch up near the middle of the meadow, springing out of the grass and tackling you to the ground, making sure to roll so you land on top of him and he takes the full force of the fall. The last time you returned to the village after a long day of simple play with bruises and scrapes you weren’t allowed to leave the village for a few weeks.

He’s grown quite a lot larger than you during his time in exile, to be expected when you have to fend for yourself against wild animals and build your own shelter, “You’re getting stronger every day,” You smile, pushing yourself off him and laying in the grass, staring up at the beautiful pink of the sunset. “Well I have to, to be able protect you, I’m not the only thing out there you know,” He says, his tone almost too blasé for what he’s implying. You tilt your head and trace the lines of his tattoos with your eyes, “I know you’re not, but you’re not a thing to me Ryomen,” You murmur, “Please, you’re the closest thing I have to a friend, you’ve always been human to me,”

He meets your gaze, his eyes used to be brown, but the red no longer worries you like it used to, “One day I’ll get you out of that village,” He says softly, his words for your ears and the rustling grass only, “I will take you far away from here and we can live somewhere untouched by the rest of the world,” You sit up, looking down at him as you hug your knees to your chest, “I’d like that,” You say, smiling, “Just the two of us,” Nothing could touch you while you were together, the world stood still for you, not even the scathing remarks you sometimes got from the other young girls of the village could hurt you.

The world is volatile, things can change so quickly. Curses are still so new to the world of humans, sorcerers that act as protectors are only just starting to appear among humans and spread themselves between villages when the day finally comes. The wave of hatred and anguish that came with the curses suffocated everything in its path. You were outside the village when it happened, returning from a visit with Sukuna, and you returned to find nothing but death and destruction. More than half of the village had been killed with no discrimination towards age or gender, and it only soothed you a little to see your old family home empty when you wrenched the door open. No blood nor bodies of any kind. Your parents and sister had made it out alive, but the temple atop the hill that you resided in was completely engulfed.

You weren’t naïve, you did not attempt to return to the temple, but they came for you all the same because your energy was like a beacon for them, and they were programmed to destroy. Running with Ryomen had improved your strength over the time you spent together, you supposed that was one of the ways he took care of you in his silent brooding way, but it wasn’t enough to get you all the way to him. He must have sensed your fear as you grew nearer, your breaths shallow and your chest tight, his eyes are the last thing you remember seeing before your soul was harshly liberated from your flesh.

The smell of blood permeated through layers of warmth that held you in suspension beyond life, but you felt yourself being dragged back to the ground, standing over your own body as you watch the only person outside of your immediate family who ever truly cared for you cry. You had never seen him cry before, it was cathartic to know even he still felt human somewhere inside while holding your weak broken body to his bare tattooed chest.

You felt his cursed energy filling the air like smoke, almost able to see it in the purgatory state you’re trapped in, his body shaking and his muscles twitching. It was like watching someone turn themselves inside out when it finally happened, his body began changing before your eyes, an extra pair of arms sprout from the top of his ribcage just under the normal ones. His face contorts with an agonized cry and one half becomes unrecognisable, the flesh pink and hardened into some sort of twisted mask, and to finish the monstrous transformation a second pair of eyes open under his regular ones.

Drenched in sweat and breathing heavily as he cradles you, you hear him make one last promise, one that locks around what remains of your essence like chains and puts you into a deep sleep. “I will burn this world for taking you from me, I will become the King of Curses, and when you are reborn I shall make you remember, make you my Queen, I will bind myself to you to protect you,” It’s the final part that reassures you he isn’t losing himself as the darkness consumes you, “When I find you, the world will be right once again,”

Now it had been over a thousand years since the light in Sukuna’s life had gone out, reducing him to a killing machine that punished the world for snuffing it out, and he had returned once more in the body of a naive 15 year old boy with pink hair. Having been preserved as twenty separate cursed objects since his untimely death he was eager to resume his self-assigned purge, but the boy had more control over his body than Sukuna could break through, leaving him trapped within his innate domain watching through Yuji Itadori’s eyes like they’re windows.

“I had to do it at least once,” He grumbles to himself as the boy sits up, stark naked, on the morgue table, surprising the three sorcerers in the room with the formerly dead boy. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Yuji, come,” Gojo instructs as the boy slips on some clothes handed to him. “Another sorcerer?” He asks. “You’ll see when we get there,” The taller man beckons him and they make their way to a house on the furthest outskirts of the Jujutsu high campus, small in size and surrounded by forest on all sides except for the path leading up to the entrance.

A fire burns in the chimney and the house is warm when the pair steps inside, “L/n!” Gojo calls out. Sukuna’s attention is elsewhere as around the corner down the hall out walks a pure angel, her energy blinding and her form strong. “Gojo!” She smiles, “Who’s this?” “This is Yuji Itadori, Ryomen Sukuna’s vessel,” She bows politely, “Welcome to my home,” She looks back up into Yuji’s eyes as he smiles, “It’s nice to meet you!”

“Enchain!” Sukuna shouts, and suddenly he’s thrown violently to the forefront of Yuji’s mind. His trump card, wasted. He hadn’t considered the potential consequences, it had been instinctual and foolish of him. The girl didn’t know who he was, but he wanted to speak to her all the same. He would make her know. He cannot stumble, he cannot falter, not when she’s right there and all he has to do is show her, “Y/n,” He murmurs. “That’s not Yuji,” She frowns, her voice soft, “That’s-” Before the two can react Sukuna is on his knees before her, holding her hands in his and hiding against her soft clothing. “I’ve…” Gojo trails off, “I’ve never seen that before,” The girl doesn’t let him go, and he feels her power reach into him, feeling around in the darkest parts of his soul, “My Queen,” He mutters, feeling the metaphysical chains around his heart tighten, “Please, remember,”

A fast surge of energy from Gojo causes the man on his knees before you to react just as quickly, pulling you tighter against him and then seemingly teleporting out the open door into the clearing, “It’s rude to attack ROYALTY!” He roars as Gojo steps out the door after the pair of you. Sukuna has planted himself firmly between the two of you, “You sorcerers never learn manners!” Something happens when your skin next touches his, his hand shooting out to catch you by your wrist as you fail to keep your balance.

A flood of memories that don’t belong to you, in fact, ones that belong to him. You see yourself, weak and frail but smiling widely, Sukuna as he is in front of you now not as he is described in sorcerer texts. A regular human man with an abnormal amount of tattoos, fiercely protective and full of love for the only person who still sees him as human. You vaguely feel yourself fall to your knees as everything from the day he was exiled to the day you died returned to your mind. You knew that despite the life you had lived for twenty years, you were in fact over a thousand years old.

This wasn’t your life, this wasn’t your body, it was hers, but you are her. You can feel the chains, too, the ones he put there the day you died to ensure that you would return. “The world took her from me, and the world paid the price, now BACK OFF!” His words shake you out of your visions, his hand still clutching your wrist as your head hangs weakly.

“Come now, Sukuna, taking hostages isn’t your style, you know that,” Gojo bargains, “Let her go, and we can fight like men,” You shake your head, “No,” You murmur, “No, Gojo,” You finally look up into his eyes, slightly uncovered as he prepares to fight, “He’s right, I know who I am, I know where my clan comes from,” He doesn’t make a move towards you and you take the opportunity to speak again, “My mother was blessed, her child would calm the beast, but she had two and one was weak in body strong in energy, the other was lacking in energy but strong of body,” Your sister had been the one the clan records mentioned, nobody remembered the girl who died alone in Ryomen Sukuna’s arms.

“I am the Queen to Ryomen Sukuna’s King,” You breathe, feeling his grip on your wrist go lax. His energy dies away and he falls to his hands and knees, but the tattoos are gone. “Yuji!” Gojo’s shoulders finally relax and he recovers his eyes, “What happened? How did he get through?” “Don’t ignore me, Satoru,” You state firmly, “Sukuna will not be a threat while I am alive,” “Can you guarantee that?” He’s always been intimidating, but this man was a part of your training as a sorcerer, and he can be rational when he wants to be.

“You’re an imbecile if you think I’m going to go back on a binding vow,” Sukuna spits from Yuji’s cheek, the boy not even having a chance to get a word in, “She is the only thing in this forsaken world I care about and you’re not about to take that away from me just so you can pretend like you’re the saviour of humanity,” You don’t remember ever being as harsh as Sukuna is right now, but his rage fills you with confidence and admiration, “I can guarantee humans will not fall as long as I am alive, his vow makes sure of it, though I’m sure he would not need it either way,”

The secondary eye on Yuji’s cheek closest to you locks its gaze onto you, “Ever so cunning, I wish I’d had the chance to nurture your hatred towards the village, maybe you’d be more open to killing,” He sounds almost wistful, “But alas, I did make a promise, and I intend to keep it, no matter how idiotic I think you sorcerers are,” You finally move to stand back on your feet, helping Yuji up with a tentative smile, “It’s nice to meet you Itadori,” You murmur, “I’m sorry you have to listen to that punk, you come to me if he gives you trouble alright?” The boy nods, his previously cheery demeanour replaced with something mellower and he seems deep in thought as he looks into your eyes.

“He really loves you,” He murmurs in disbelief, “I didn’t… I didn’t think he was truly capable of love, after what he did to me,” You shrug, “It’ll make sense one day, but I’ll let him be the one who opens up, it’s not my place to air out thousand year old dirty laundry with people who are long dead anyway,” Your words hang in the air as Gojo finally sighs. The discussion and conclusion are finalised when he leaves, Yuji will live with you and you will suppress Sukuna’s energy. You will keep the world safe by preserving your life, lest another binding vow come down upon your departing soul and the King of curses be forced to unleash his merciless fury once more.

Sukuna is a little shit and out of character because it’s my fic and I get to write the male love interest however I want (I tried besties :( I don’t like mean Sukuna but I do love “I hate everyone but you” so that’s what you get) also I wrote this instead of sleeping at 2am, the brainrot is real and this will probably end up being a series because I can’t control myself

Part 2 here!

Post dividers from @cafekitsune

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

hi! if you’re not doing requests ignore this..

but i was wonderinggg if you could write something nsfw for 12 raph or leo when they’re infected by the parasitica?! 🤭💋

Parasitica (Angst) (18+)

2012!Leonardo x reader

A/N: Sure I can!💙 I had a little bit of a hard time figuring out a plot for this. Once you’re infected by the parasitica, your only focus is to keep the egg safe, so I was not sure how I was going to make sex and arousal feel natural during that. But I think what I came up with works pretty well. I decided to make it with Leo, as I thought it would be easier to do plot wise💙

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Warnings: 🔴Could be seen as forced in the beginning, but is not meant to be that🔴, fingering, turtley anatomy, doggy style, unprotected sex, mentioning of masturbation, slight dirty talk, finger sucking, finger biting, hard neck biting, bitemark, creampie, open ending, the egg is in the room during the whole thing.

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Looking back, you should probably have texted or called the guys before going down to the lair. You had never thought of doing so before. Normally none of the guys had anything against you coming to the lair unannounced. They would welcome you with open arms. Especially Leo. He was always the first to greet you with a long warm hug, hugging you for so long that his brothers would call him out in impatience. You had nothing against Leo’s extra long hugs. No, you actually quite liked them. They were one of the main reasons that you continuously went down to the lair unannounced, looking forward to Leo’s warm hugs. You liked to tell yourself that your love for Leo’s hugs had nothing to do with your growing crush on him, but deep down you knew it was a lie. Hugging Leo was one of the few excuses you had to be close to him, and you very quickly learned that showing up in the lair with no warning, made his hugs longer. But with the way the turtle’s daily life tended to unfold, it would have been a good idea to text them or call them first. Especially that day. But as we all know, we tend to get those ideas after the fact.

When you walked into the lair that evening, you were surprised to find it so quiet. The normally busy living area was empty, and there were no noises from the normally loud turtle brothers. It was odd. Very odd. The last time you had experienced this kind of silence in the lair was… never. Okay, that was very strange.

“Guys?”, you asked out loud, hoping that one of them would come out, and let you know that everything was already, and it was nothing but your wild fantasy that was making you nervous. But to your dismay, nothing happened. The lair stayed quiet, only your steps against the floor could be heard. “Guys? Is this some kind of strange prank?”

Nothing.

You wandered around the lair in silence, until you noticed the door to the garage was open. Hoping to find the guys and bring an end to the silence, you went through the open door and into the open room. There breathed a sigh of relief when you saw Leo in a kneeled position, facing a bean bag that held what looked like an oversized jelly bean.

“There you are”, you sighed with a laugh. “You had no idea how scared I was, Leo. Didn’t you hear me call?”

No answer. Leo continued to sit in silence, his back turned to you, staring at the big jelly bean.

“Leo?”, you asked, getting slightly concerned. “Are you okay?” You stepped closer to him, but there was still no acknowledgment of your presence. Hesitating, you placed a careful hand on Leo’s shoulder, hoping to get some sound out of your friend. But as soon as your skin made contact with his, he was over you. Leo had you pinned to the ground with your hands by your head, and your legs under his knees. You were shocked to find that Leo’s pretty blue eyes were gone, instead replaced by two place emotionless orbs that stared down at you. Something was very wrong. This was not the Leo that you had had on your mind every night before going to bed, or made your heart flutter with every smile. You did not know who this was, nor what they had done to the Leo you had grown to care so much for. You opened your mouth to scream, but before any sound could escape you, Leo had your mouth covered with his hand.

“Shut it”, Leo growled, putting pressure against your mouth. You tried to wiggle your legs out from underneath him, but instead he forced further more of his weight onto them. As you tried to wiggle and move from his grip, Leo turned your head to the side, exposing your neck to him. “For the glorious egg”, you heard him whisper, before he ducked his beak into the core of your neck. You froze at the feeling of Leo's breath and teeth against your skin. Had it been any other day, you would have longed for that feeling. Hell, you would even have been begging for it. But now you were completely still, holding your breath as you waited for his next move.

You felt the pressure of Leo’s teeth against your skin, fearing the pain for when they would break through the surface and sink into you. But that pain never came. Leo halted his movements, yet his teeth stayed against your skin. It took some time before he moved again, retracting his teeth from your skin, before licking over the spot. This caused you to shiver, a small whimper leaving your lips and into the palm of Leo’s hand. Leo let go of you with his other hand, letting the now free hand wander down your body, feeling your curves as he went. As his tongue continued licking over your neck, you couldn’t help but moan into his hand. This caused Leo to remove his legs from your knees, positioning his body between your legs. You in turn lifted your hip, letting it grind against Leo and his cloaca.

Leo growled against your neck with a choked moan, that almost made you see stars. “The egg does not care how I bit you”, he whispered against your ear, his hand moving closer and closer to the waistline of your pants. “So I’ll do it the way I’ve always wanted to”.

You gasped as Leo’s three fingers slipped down into your pants, and shortly after, they made their way into your panties. You had dreamed of this so many times. How Leo’s fingers would feel against you. And though this wasn’t exactly how you had hoped it would happen, you found yourself lifting your hips once again, hoping to make him move quicker towards your core. Leo growled as this, rubbing your clit in furious circles with two of his fingers. Though you had always thought Leo to be more soft and gentle when it came it sex, you continuously moaned against his hand, whimpering out his name as he worked his fingers on you.

“So wet”, Leo growled. “You like it”. You nodded, holding onto the hand that was still on your face. That was when Leo’s fingers found your entrance, before he pushed one finger into your warm hole. Straight away, he sat a brutal speed, moving his finger in and out of you, feeling you tighten around him. You moaned against his hand, rising yourself so that you could meet his fingers as they plunged into you. Even through your pants and underwear, you could hear the wet sloshing sounds that came from his every move.

Leo removed his face from your neck, so he could look down at your red flushed face under his hand, seeing the way your eyes widened as he inserted another finger into you. That moment you were grateful for Leo’s hand covering your mouth. If there was anybody else in the lair, they would have been able to hear you scream and moan on the garage floor, from the pleasure that Leo’s fingers were giving you.

Then suddenly without warning, Leo pulled his fingers out of you. You were about to complain, when Leo took a hold of you and turned you over onto your stomach. There he was quick to pull your pants and underwear down to your knees, before he propped your ass up into the air. Before you could turn to look at him, Leo took the two fingers he had used on you, and brought them around to your face. There he pushed them into your mouth, making you moan around them at the taste of your own salty juices.

“Be good and stay quiet”, Leo commanded as he was leaning over you, untucked himself from his cloaca. You whimpered slightly as you felt his head being rubbed against your folds, picking up as much fluid as possible, before being pushed into your opening. You gasped, your hands searching for something to hold on to on the ground. Many times you had tried to imagine what Leonardo’s appendix might look like, but nothing had prepared you for his size. You felt your walls being stretched out around him, sending small waves of pleasure through you.

Once again, Leo did not wait for you to adjust to his size, before he started moving against you. Your legs clenched up, and the muffled sounds you let out vibrated against Leo’s fingers. Leo growled once more, leaning further down onto you, until you felt his plastron against your back, moving up and down with each thrust.

“Feels good”, Leo growled just behind your ear, slightly strained from pleasure. “Better than I had imagined”. You whimpered at his words, squashing your eyes shut. The thought of Leo having imagined having sex with you, made you clench him a little tighter. Leo moaned at the feeling. A sound that sent what felt like fire straight to your core. You had always imagined what Leo’s moans would sound like. Late at night while touching yourself, you played the imaginary sounds of Leo’s whimpers of pleasure, helping you get closer to your high. And they did exactly the same at that moment.

Leo brought his free hand under you, letting it move between your legs, finding your clit one more time. He had to use his help to keep you in place, as he started circling around your button once more. You started lightly biting down on the fingers in your mouth, causing Leo to moan against the shell of your ear once more.

“Yes, that’s it. Bite my fingers. Show me how good it feels”.

You felt your eyes almost roll to the back of your head, as you tried to suppress a moan but biting onto Leo’s fingers once more. He in turn moaned against your ear, his breath fanning across your skin. He rested his head against your shoulder, where he began to kiss and lick your skin, while the speed of his hips increased their speed against you, his fingers doing the same. You felt your high beginning to build in your lower region, as you frantically tapped onto Leo’s arm to let him know.

“Do it”, Leo moaned against your skin, adjusting his legs so he could pound relentlessly into you. “Cum for me, (Y/N)”.

And with Leo’s impressive speed, his fingers never leaving your clit, and his moans and words against your ear, it didn’t take long before you came undone under him. Your legs shook as you held onto his arm for dear life. Leo had to remove his fingers from your mouth, so he could cover it with his whole palm, muffling the sound of your scream like moan that erupted from you as you came. Leo followed shortly after with his own orgasm. His grip on you tightened, and his teeth once again found your skin. But as his high took over him, and he started to bugle against you as he came, his teeth came down upon you, breaking through your skin. This caused you to scream against his hand, your walls fluttering against his cock as he emptied the last bits of him into you.

After some time, Leo finally retracted his teeth from you, leaving behind a dark bite mark on your shoulder. He pulled himself out of you with a small moan of pleasure, watching as his cum started to drip out of you. He then grabbed a hold of your underwear and pants, before pulling them back up your body. As you then laid down flat on the ground, you felt a strange tingling sensation from the place where Leo had bit you. It was not just from the pain that came with such a bite, but something more. It was spreading. You could feel it. The tingling sensation moved down your spine and up your neck, making you feel dizzy. You held onto your head, groaning at the strange feeling.

“I’m sorry”, Leo murmured, leaning down to place a kiss onto your temple, before lifting your slightly limb body, so he could pull you in for a hug. “But the glorious egg wanted me to do it”.

There you sat for a moment, Leo’s arms around you as the growing dizziness took over. Leo did not say or do much, other than telling you it would be okay, and how the egg would be merciful. Then suddenly his attention snapped towards the open door, determination flashed in his eyes.

“Watch the egg”, he commanded, moving you off of him so he could stand. “Raphael is coming”.

“Yes”, you said, the dizziness diapering and a sudden clarity taking over, leaving nothing but the egg in your mind. “I’ll protect the egg”.

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

He Canceled Hot Girl Summer 🔥

18+mdni series master list

The night before Aries season…|

You paced back and forth in the hospital room, trying to walk through the discomfort of early labor. Your mom and dad had traveled to see you and be with you during the birth of your son. Your dad, being the man that he was, couldn't stand seeing his baby girl in pain and went to harass the nurses to do something about it (despite your mom saying it was all in God's hands).

You sit down on the bed and groan in frustration. You start crazy laughing. It was only five hours in, and Omari was taking his sweet time. “He's such a drama queen.” You huff, “Of course, his little ass is doing things on his terms, like I'm not sitting here hungry for more than ice.”

Your mom just laughs and shakes her head, “It's the only time he's ever gonna be able to tell you to wait, and you gotta.”

“But if I let him call the shots now, he'll expect to keep calling the shots.” You grumble and rub your back.

“Sweetie?”

“Yeah mom?” You look at her, and your breath hitches at another contraction.

“How are you feeling? I know the last few months you and Ricky haven't been the best.” She says.

She's not really asking how you are right now physically, she's got four kids, she knows. You roll your eyes and look up at the ceiling in thought, “Dad is just being Dad, I don't even care for real.”

“You know he just didn't want this for you, neither of us did.”

“Yeah, but my baby is almost here, and Dad, I suppose, is deciding to pay my rent for the year instead of apologizing to me for what he said.” Your voice wavers slightly at the memory of what was supposed to be the happiest moment of your pregnancy. Telling your parents they were going to be grandparents.

“He's here now, and he wants to make it up to you. Ya know he never stopped, during that six month stretch, never did he stopped asking about you and the baby.” She moves to sit next to you and holds your hand. “Pray on it and forgive him.”

Your eyes close, and you chuckle sadly, “Prayer doesn't fix other people's shitty actions.”

Your mom opens her mouth and closes it multiple times. She's trying to say something, anything profound to smooth over an already tense relationship. Rehabilitate, like most mothers do when their family has been smashed on the rocks.

You hope that Omari doesn't ever have to pray for the strength to forgive you. You'd rather eat hot nails than ever guilt trip him for your actions. You think briefly that having your father here instead of his father may be his villain origin story. So maybe it's already in motion. Who knows?

Another contraction takes hold of you, and you pray for a healthy baby that will never need to be told to pray.

Chapter 4: The thing about video calls…is that you can hang up. 📱

It's been two weeks of Johnny inserting himself into Omari's life and, by extension, your life, too. On days that you don't work from home, he's at your apartment and helping you by getting Omari ready. You can always hear him speaking that strange language to him, and when you asked Johnny what it was, he told you with a sly smile.

“Gaelic chuilein.” He then went back to softly speaking to Omari as if you're not even there.

And you thought Aaliyah spoiled Omari? (Despite her telling you to send him to glory in the beginning, she comes over, and when she does, her first greeting is “Where's Big Mari? Aunty has a gift for him.” And then she produces another pair of baby Jordans that he will grow out of.) Johnny goes absolutely wild with daddy duties. The man doesn't even like the idea of his mini me being even slightly uncomfortable or upset. He bought a towel warmer just so Omari wouldn't have to leave a warm bath and use a cold towel. He didn't like that Omari's nursery had street facing windows (and the only reason his nursery faced the street is because you and him would people watch on Sunday morning) and while he fussed and complained, he got privacy film so his baby and his woman could see out but people couldn't see in.

He applied that film to all of the windows.

And then he bought you a ring camera doorbell for his peace of mind.

You've heard him on the phone with his mom or one of his three sisters. All of them sounded cheerful about Omari, asking to see his chubby little face and cooing about his features and how he looks like some man named Johnathan (who you correctly assume is his father). His mother, a sweet woman with bright blue eyes and a warm smile, speaks to you each and every time she's on the phone. She'd asked about your diet, admonished you about not eating enough, and then promptly began scolding Johnny about the importance of making sure you ate enough. She explained that a breastfeeding mother needed to eat hearty and healthy and that she was sending him a list of foods for him to get and cook. The whole time, Johnny sat there nodding his head, cheeks flushed pink, and a little bit embarrassed.

You give him credit though, you thought he'd give you bland British Food, but he was making family recipes, and they were surprisingly good.

That's when he asked if he should know your parents. Which led to you calling them up on Skype one Saturday afternoon and your mom answering with a smile.

“Sweetie!” She smiles, “And how are you doing? Are you still having trouble with your depression?” She's asking before you can even shake your head no and switch the subject. “And did you speak with your therapist and psych about getting on new meds?”

Johnny is in the kitchen, Omari strapped to his chest (once again, that baby doesn't sit on his own ass…ever) and he's looking at you with concern. His blue eyes are unreadable, but you spy the clench in his jaw as he quietly listens along. He's warming up a bottle on the stove since Omari is more demanding for being fed more often, and your nipples are too sore to handle his little gummy gnawing. It's clear from the looks he keeps giving you that a conversation will be had.

“Nah, mom. I haven't seen them in the past three weeks since work picked up and stuff.” You lean back on the sofa and situate the laptop on the coffee table.

Your mom frowns and opens her mouth, but then she stops when she hears Omari start crying offscreen. “Where's the baby? Is Autumn with you? Tell that boy that he needs to call more.”

“No, Autumn isn't here…” You take a deep breath, “Omari's father John is here.”

She stares for a moment, “now don't you going pullin' my leg.”

“No really, he is. It's a long and interesting story, but we, and really I mean Aaliyah, found him by accident, and he wants in.” You try to sum it all up neatly, and the way you purse your lips, clearly say you won't be explaining much more.

“Ricky!” Your mom gets up and calls for your father, “Richard Knights!” She's walking offscreen, and you can hear the familiar squeak of the screen door and the distant sound of the lawnmower.

Johnny comes over and sits down. He's got Omari eating. He's a bit tense, and you understand him, meeting Davina over FaceTime was stressful. The woman wasn't the same as happy and go-lucky as Johnny or his other two sisters Fiona and Blair. You chalk it up to her being the eldest daughter as she acts similarly to Aaliyah.

“How does mah hair look?” His free hand messes with the front of his hair. The bottle is leaning against his chest.

“Johnny, you're holding your son, and you are about to meet my father and mother, and you wanna worry about hair?” You smack his hand away and fix it right for him. He leans into your touch and smiles at you. That smile makes your stomach flip, and he knows that it does because the smile becomes a bit devilish.

“Chuilein,” He whispers, his eyes are half lidded, “You smell nice.”

“I smell like milk.” You playfully push him away.

“You smell like a mother, and I'm trying to hold myself back from making Irish twins with you.”

“John really?” You shriek. At this time, both of your parent's are sitting down, and you're praying they didn't hear him. (The angry look on your father's face says otherwise.)

“What did you call me in here for Portia?” Your father says.

“She saying that this is Omari's father.” Portia smiles, “Hi darling, I'm Portia, and this is my husband Richard, but we call him Ricky.”

“You can call me Colonel.” Your father flat out denies Johnny of any familiarity. You can only groan and roll your eyes heavenward.

“Daddy, please don't be difficult.” The sigh you let out can be no less dramatic if you try.

“Nice to meet you, sir, Sergeant John MacTavish.” Johnny sits up straighter, and you are reminded that he is indeed an army soldier. He fell into the roll so easily.

“Hn.” Ricky grunts and nods his head once, “a sergeant? Can't say I'm displeased. Better than what I initially thought only by a margin.” His arms are folded across his chest. He watches from beneath his heavy brows, and his eyes squint just slightly. “Can you say what branch, or are there a bunch of NDAs involved?”

“Daddy would you-”

“A bunch of NDAs, but I do serve in S.A.S. sir.” He answers coolly. Omari starts to whine and cry slightly, and Johnny is immediately tuning into what he wants. He whispers softly to him and asks if he's tired of eating and wants to burp. Your mom is smiling and looks moved. Your father not so much.

“Hm.” Ricky nods his head again, “At least my daughter got pregnant by a decent man. Can't wait to see and learn if you're respectable and responsible.”

“Ricky, be nice.” Portia frowns, “He's here now, and it's a prayer answered that she won't be on her own and Omari will have his father.”

“He's black ops. I know their kind.” He doesn't budge, and he looks down at your mom with a knowing look.

“Anyway-” Portia rolls her eyes, “John, are you planning to come to the States for Omari's baptism?” She smiles at him, “Unless you and my daughter have decided to not get him baptized.”

“ah'm actually a Catholic ma'am.” He sits Omari up after burping him so he can see the screen.

“There's Mimi's little fat man!” Portia squealed, “and you're Catholic? I'm not all that familiar with the Catholic faith, but I suppose a baptism is a baptism for you all, too? Does it matter the denomination?”

“Mom, I still haven't decided if I want to get Omari baptized.” You try gently reminding her. You've all had this conversation multiple times, and you really don't wanna go all the way back home for a baptism.

“You know your GiGi already started picking out fabric for his suit.” Portia sighs.

“She's sewing it? Good lord.” Ricky huffs, “That sewing machine is gonna catch on fire. It's so old.”

“Point is, Sweetie, that we gotta schedule the baptism soon. Don't want that baby coming up on six months without it.” She says.

“We aren' doin’ a baptism.” Johnny says before you even open your mouth, he's still smiling down at Omari and tickling his little toes.

“Huh?” You and your mother speak at the same time.

“Yea, me an’ mah chuilein are more focused on get'n tha family thing right.” He looks up. His eyes are bright, but his smile is more like a tight grimace. Then, without prompting, he leans over and kisses you on the cheek. “‘Sides” He continues, “wouldnae be right to baptize him if his his mum an’ da are livin’ in sin aye?”

“Wait, he's living with you?” Your Dad growls.

You quickly go right into damage control, “No he ain't. It's an expression.”

“Aaww” your mother is crying now, “he's a God-fearing man, I was so worried she'd end up with a heathen.”

“Portia please…” Ricky sighs, “not every man who has religion is God-fearing…” he's trying to console her cries and praises of ‘Won't he do it.”

Johnny is watching the two of them with a raised brow and a crooked grin. He looks at you and nudges your side. “The're quite tha characters.” He whispers to you. He's leaning close to you, the warmth of his breath on the shell of your ear. “An’ donnae think we aren' gonna talk ‘bout yur depression an’ mental health.”

You meet his serious gaze, and those blue eyes aren't as playful and sweet. Instead, they are worried and his lips in a firm line. The moment is tense, and you feel sorta like you're in trouble, but that can't be right. It can't be right because you're a grown woman and who the fuck is he? So before you can even stop yourself the words come out of your mouth.

“John,” you say, the corner of your lip raised a bit, “last time I checked, I'm grown.”

He doesn't say anything, and his grimace only tightens. He won't be backing down on this one. His best mates all have abysmal mental health, and while he's semi adjusted, he too suffers, and he knows it's no joke. Your mom breaks the tension with a wail, and you just now realize the woman has started speaking in tongues.

“Mom, what?” You say watching the woman cry and sob. Some of the words are ‘Thank you Jesus.’

Your father is rubbing her back, “we will talk later, Baby girl…seems your mom has decided to work herself into a frenzy.” He looks at Johnny and hums. “Give him my number, I'd like to chat with him one on one.” And before you can rebuff anything, the screen goes blank.

“Does she do that often?” Johnny asks, clearly confused.

“She's probably in the middle of a spiritual psychosis episode.” You say with a sigh, “also please don't call my father Colonel. He's retired. And on a second note, when you inevitably meet my eldest brother Junior, don't call him anything but Junior.”

“Yur family sounds fun.” He laughed.

“They are…but we all love each other. Also, did you mean what you said about the baptism thing?” You ask.

“Aye, ah did.” He looks back at Omari, who at this point has decided to chew on his shirt and doze. “Alla tha stuff can be handle’ later. Mah own mum an’ sisters ‘ave been hintin’ at a catholic baptism an’ already itchin’ about first communion.”

You watch as he rocks and soothes the baby to sleep. He's really different from what you remembered. He didn't seem like the party boy that drank shots off of you and had dipped his tongue into your navel while you laid on the bar top. He didn't seem like the good fuck that spit in your mouth and made you call him daddy (and boy was that a self fulfilling prophecy). Johnny didn't even seem like some army dude, though he was somewhat paranoid about the windows and the front door and balcony door, even though your place was on the second floor. Right now, he painted the pretty picture as a guy who just wanted to take care of his son, affectionately whispering to him in his mother tongue the tune of some lullaby.

Your phone is out, and you've already snapped a photo.

“Don't post it to your insta.” He says just as you opened the app.

“Why not?” You ask.

“Because…” there is hesitation in him as he looks at you, “yur da mentioned he knows mah type.”

You scoff, “He knows the military, I guess.”

“He specifically ask'd ‘f ah was an NDA soldier or a regular one.”

“Okay and? So you can't talk about your work? How's that a big deal?”

“Chuilein…we gotta talk ‘bout mah job, an’ safety, ‘an we gotta talk ‘bout how I wan’ tae keep ya both safe an’ move ya both somewhere safe.” He is tense now and watching your face for every bit of reaction. Slowly, you understand what he's referring to. Your own father was that type of secretive, never spoke about work unless it was just your mom. It only became worse after he made Colonel. It really didn't relax until he retired, and everyone changed their last names to Knights.

You groan and place your head into your hands. Not only did you fuck a army boy, you fucked a spec ops army boy.

“You have gots to be fucking with me.” You whine.

Because, of course, your baby daddy is a shady war criminal, NDA soldier.

A/N: Plot in this story? Say it ain't so. Lol, IDK how the plot showed up, but it's still comedy and a hint of drama. There won't be any kidnappings or his job coming back to physically harm the reader and Omari. Thank you all for following.

Tag list: @evergreenlake @royalty-cashinout @leahnicole1219 @gxuxhdjdu @daft-queen

[thisisntmyrightera]

Over Again (Nikki Sixx & Fem Character)

Description: You and Nikki met thanks to Tommy and he decides that it's time to settle down with you but your relationship soon becomes 3, you, him and drugs so an unfortunate event makes him open his eyes and take life seriously.

Warning: Mention of abort, substance abuse, violence and other sensitive topics.

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It was around 1986 when Tommy my old friend from school found me at a party by chance, we had years without knowing about each other, at that time he had recently married Heather and the idea of ​​settling down with Tommy was so present that he didn't think of anyone else but Nikki, he had to have a woman by his side, i were the responsible, kind and always in a good mood girl that he had met in class but now turned into a woman.

The day Nikki and i were introduced, he didn't seem to care about my presence, his mind was lost in cocaine and with the lights of the place he could barely notice my blushing cheeks when i said hi, for me it wasn't strange at all, i imagined the environment in which he and Tommy moved with the other guys in the band so i just focused on being the social butterfly i always were and soon i found myself talking to another guy near the pool.

For Nikki this wasn't right, how could someone let Nikki Sixx pass by and focus on a skinny blonde guy who was only in charge of moving the cables behind the stage? But his state made it impossible for him to get close, his mind was fused with heroin and no matter how much jealousy he felt in his heart, his mind only asked for more drugs and that's what he did.

By the end of the night i thanked Tommy for the invitation and although the drummer was disappointed that his friend didn't pay attention to a me, he knew something had happened inside Sixx, he knew that look, not for nothing was it his terror twin.

It was during a rehearsal that while Nikki was drinking her Jack Daniels he approached the drums asking Tommy who was that girl he had introduced him to at the party, he knew it, Nikki had fallen, Tommy was never wrong.

After that Tommy invited me again to one of the many parties that Motley Crue gave and this time Nikki was able to fight a little against his addiction and took some time to approach and start talking, it was a matter of seconds when both felt as if we had been friends forever, both laughed and told anecdotes that we had in common, finally Nikki was able to spend a night alone with beer and cigarettes, away from needles and mirrors with white powder.

Soon, sooner than Tommy had imagined, Nikki and i had formalized our relationship, it was common now to see me between the dressing rooms, talking to Heather or encouraging my boyfriend, the groupies did not receive me good at all, they knew that Nikki was finally tied and no matter how hard they tried he only had eyes for his girl.

Finally in 1987, by all rights, i became Mrs. Sixx. my friends couldn't believe that i had walked down the aisle with one of the sexiest rock stars in history. My parents, for their part, seemed happy but deep down they were afraid that something would happen. For them, Motley Crue's music was nothing more than a loud sound and the boys were extravagant and wild. They couldn't understand how their sweet girl had walked down the aisle in her beautiful white dress with a disheveled boy who wore makeup on stage.

The first few months of marriage were good, not perfect, but at home everything was fine, although from time to time Nikki always reminded me that i shouldn't go into his closet, it was his personal place and i understood it, maybe it was a space where he could relax just as he had dedicated a whole room for my hobbies where i could paint, knit and do other of my favorite things, but it didn't take me long to realize that something was wrong, Nikki often didn't come to sleep in bed even though he was home, when i tried to get close to him to be intimate, he seemed upset and irritating so i just turned around and went back to the room leaving him alone.

When i were lucky and managed to convince him of something, he was the best lover in the world, he left me exhausted and with my legs numb and soon i managed i get pregnant, it was an illusion that i had in mind since i ou began my adult life, to have a marriage with a kind man and create a family like the one my parents had created.

That night i ran downstairs with the pregnancy test in my hand finding Nikki in the kitchen drinking from a small glass what looked like whiskey.

''Nikki'' i yelled as soon as i managed to finish going down the stairs as i ran to the kitchen holding the test in front of me, he seemed lost in his thoughts and barely looked at me with his eyes half closed.

''What's wrong babe?'' He took a sip of his drink almost falling off the chair when i hugged him tightly by the neck, his hand resting on my back as a smile spread across his face, it didn't matter if he was high or not, we always found our safe place in our arms.

''Look'' i smiled excitedly, almost jumping holding the test with both hands in front of his face making him blink a few times trying to focus on the small device that i moved uncontrollably with my trembling hands ''can you see it baby? Do you see it?''

''Wait…honey stop jumping I can't…I can't see what it is'' he laughed leaving the glass on the kitchen island, taking my hand in his focusing his eyes on the two thin lines ''Th…what is this?''

''Honey I'm pregnant, we're going to be parents'' His eyes opened wide between the strands of his dark hair, he felt his heart beating too hard, harder than normal, even harder than when he injects the dose of heroin into his left arm, he couldn't understand how he had created life, was he ready for this? What if he was a failure like his father was, he couldn't allow something like that to happen ''Honey? are you okay?''

''Yeah, it's just that..'' he kept looking at the floor, he seemed to be thinking too many things at the same time and none of them were good ''It's just that… wow… we're going to be parents''

''Yeah… you don't like the idea?'' my hands slowly lowered while he looked at me quickly shaking his head realizing that his reaction had make me feel insecure

''No, it's not that honey it's just that… I didn't expect this to happen so fast, it's like it was a dream you know..'' his hand slowly arranged a lock of hair behind my ear with his other hand hugging me slowly while i wrapped my arms around his neck ''I love you baby, you know that right?''

''Yeah I know'' i murmured into his neck, closing my eyes breathing in the scent of his hair and his perfume ''what do you think it is? "A boy or a girl?" my excitement make me explode again, letting go of the hug while my hands rested on his biceps, but after a gesture of pain and seeing how he quickly moved away from me, i looked at him scared. "Honey, are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

"It's not… it's just that my arm hurts a little." His voice sounded nervous as she adjusted the long sleeves of her shirt. "Maybe it's because of the bass, don't worry, babe."

After that, there were few days where happiness roamed around the house, since i had married Nikki i had convinced him that i didn't need help to clean the house, i could do it, after all i were there almost all day and when he was on tour i were practically alone with nothing to do.

It was one of those days when i were cleaning the nightstands, throwing away old tickets and dusting the night lamps when i thought about cleaning the closet that Nikki took such good care of, after all it wouldn't hurt to dust it, so without thinking twice i approached the wooden doors and opened them without hesitation looking around, i could notice his stage outfits, the striped one, his leather pants, his boots.

I walked slowly, contemplating everything until i heard something crunch under my shoe. My eyes quickly looked at the floor, noticing that i had stepped on a needle, clearly used and dirty with blood. My eyes then adjusted to reality. On the floor there were dozens of used needles, strips of plastic, and a revolver on the carpet. I weren't stupid. I knew what i was seeing and what Nikki was doing in his "space."

The smell of weed and the blood stains made my stomach turn and i quickly ran to the bathroom, vomiting the lunch while holding my 2-month pregnant belly. After that, i felt totally exhausted. I didn't stop crying all day and i could barely take off your shoes to lie down on the bed.

It was almost 10 pm when Nikki came back from the studio and it seemed strange to him to call my name and not hear my voice anywhere, he looked towards the stairs expecting to see me running down to jump into his arms but nothing, it seemed like the house was empty, he went up to the room taking off his jacket when he noticed me lying down feeling a breath in his throat but soon he felt his breath cut off again when he looked at the open doors of his closet, he knew that his secret was no longer a secret.

''What is my closet doing open?'' He stopped in front of the bed looking at me with my red cheeks and my wet and irritated eyes without caring about how i was ''I'm talking to you… why is it''

''Since when do you do this?'' i could barely mention with my irritated throat feeling a lump forming again in my chest

''What does that matter, I asked you not to come in, I have never broken any promise, I have done everything you want and ask, I only asked you not to go in there'' his voice was getting louder with each word he said, his hands tangled in his hair and then ran down his face in frustration

''I don't give a damn if you broke anything or not of what you promised me Nikki, why are you doing it? why?'' i could barely sit up in bed sitting on the edge while i watched him as he walked back and forth

''That's not your problem…''

''It's my fucking problem since I agreed to marry you Nikki, I don't care what fucking promises you've broken or not, I'd rather find you with a whore in bed than this, at least I'd have the security that she wouldn't try to kill you, but this? Nikki you're ending your life'' my eyes could barely stay open, the tears came out one after another without me realizing it and my voice broke making my throat hurt even more

''You think I haven't tried? I can't stop I'm a fucking addict that's what you want to know? You married a drug addict'' His screams make me jump a little, i had never heard Nikki in that tone of voice

''I wouldn't have cared if you were a drug addict when I met you or after, if you had told me we would have sought help, why didn't you trust me Nikki?…why?''

''It's okay, love calm down'' He took a deep breath approaching me, kneeling between my legs taking myface carefully feeling his hands wet from the tears ''Honey, look at me, calm down think about our baby okay?…I'll seek help, I promise I just don't know how''

''Please stop, what am I going to do if you hurt yourself, what do I do if you die?..I can't do it alone Nikki'' This time i knew that the hormones weren't to blame for my reaction, i were really afraid of losing him, afraid of being alone, of not being part of all the plans we had made together

''I promise love, please excuse me'' his arms surrounded my waist while his face hid between my crotch and my small bulging belly '' I will do this for us, for our baby please trust me''

No, he didn't, just two months later i came home from shopping, it took me just 5 minutes to leave the bags in the kitchen and go up to the bedroom to change the shoes that made my feet swell when i found the room in a mess, the bed was unmade, the bedside lamps broken and there were clothes everywhere, i could walk slowly between the objects when i noticed the closet doors open.

I could barely run without tripping when suddenly i opened them completely and found him on the floor pulling a rubber band with his mouth that tied his left arm while with his other hand he injected a substance directly into his vein

"Nikki…no…no" i ran as fast as i could and barely managed to hold him in my arms when his dilated eyes seemed to have lost the light and he vanished into my legs.

Finally my worst fear came true, Nikki was dead.

My heart was skipping a beat, i felt my stomach turning and my head spinning, my hands held his face, no longer reacting and without hurting him i got up taking the cordless phone to go back to his side while i called 911 and held it calling his name

''Nikki please…please baby wake up'' my voice began to sound desperate while my eyes filled with tears ''Nikki please…Nik..hello?''

''911 what is your emergency?'' the lady on the other end of the line sounded tired, used to receiving calls all the time while my world was falling apart

''My husband is not responding, please send an ambulance please…Nikki wake up'' my hand slowly slap his cheek and then wiped the tears from my face and returned it to press his chest a couple of times

''Your husband is not responding? Is he hurt? What happened?'' There were too many questions for my limited ability to think at that moment

''I don't know, I went shopping and when I came back he was injecting himself with something in his arm and he passed out, please send help please I don't want him to die'' i could barely draw breath, i felt everything inside me collapsing and crumbling little by little

''I understand, please stay by his side, an ambulance is heading to the address on this phone, please stay with him''

Of course I would stay with him, I stayed while they put him in the ambulance and took him to the hospital, I stayed when they gave him CPR and two syringes went through his heart making him wake up, my heart stopped at that moment, there he was, looking at me disoriented without knowing what had happened, as if for him it had been just a bad dream, but for me it was hell on earth, I saw him die and I saw him come back to life.

I stayed with him in the hospital for two days, holding his hand as he slept, signing papers, barely eating, listening to the nurses speak pitifully about me. “Poor thing, she’s pregnant, she must be feeling awful,” they said over and over again every time a new nurse came into the room. Most of them did nothing, they just wanted to see if it was true that Nikki Sixx himself was there.

As soon as we got home, we slept for a whole day. He was exhausted and I was feeling much worse. I felt like my world had been taken away from me like a cruel joke and it had been returned to me after seeing me destroyed. I was afraid of waking up and not having him near me.

I couldn’t just stay in bed. As soon as he lay down next to me, my body joined his like magnets. My arm surrounded his body tightly, afraid that someone was going to take him away from me once again. My head rested on his right arm while his hand combed my hair until we both fell asleep.

But no, life was not easy. A couple of days later, while I was taking a bath, I felt a pain in my stomach, like cramps even worse than I had ever felt in my entire life. Then a hot liquid ran down my legs. I could see the white floor of the shower turning red. The blood did not stop, it ran and ran down the drain.

''Babe…Nikki'' I could barely hold on to the wall, turning off the water and grabbing a towel that I barely wrapped around my body, it turned red

''Love?..what happened?'' His face still looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes

''Help me…our baby'' I looked at him again feeling that sensation inside me, everything would be wrong again

It was in seconds when with his little strength he picked me up and took me to the car without caring about the towel or that he was without shoes, he just ran to the car and drove as fast as he could returning to the same hospital that we had just left.

Doctors, nurses all ran while placing an oxygen mask on my face, no one explained anything, I only heard Nikki's voice while holding my hand.

''Ok, honey you're bleeding and we need to stop it'' the older doctor looked at me placing a mask on his face while a nurse helped him fastening a white apron over his blue robe ''I'm sorry to tell you that we can't proceed with your baby and it's very likely that he no longer has vital signs, we need to save your life first ok?''

I didn't know how to feel at that moment, it was as if God had punished me, he gave me back Nikki but took my baby, why? Why was he doing this to me?…

''But…no'' my eyes searched through the bright lights of the room for Nikki's face, I could feel his hand and hear his voice but the big white spotlight wouldn't let me see him ''My baby…Nikki tell them no…no''

''Honey it's for your own good, our baby is in heaven now I only care about you ok? They must stop your bleeding and everything will be fine, you will be with me and I will be with you and more babies will come, calm down please baby''

I never imagined that I would give birth to my stillborn baby, it was like being in shock and forgetting everything that had happened and suddenly I found myself in a white room, similar to where Nikki had been, Tommy and Heather were with me and Nikki but they were not much help, when i could barely calm down Tommy would come crying making me feel bad again so Heather would take him to the hallway to calm him down.

When we returned home we both felt exhausted, no one had told us that we would live through all this in such a short time, why us?

I spent the days lying down, my mother visited us helping us make food and keeping us company, it was very helpful to listen to her while I lay on her legs as she combed my hair like when I was a child while she told me how she also lost a baby and after that painful loss my brother came into the world.

I also remember how she took advantage of the time I was sleeping to talk to Nikki who never left my side, she scolded him for being so irresponsible but at the same time she advised him. It was very comforting to see Nikki come down to the kitchen one day and hug my mother while kissing her cheek. “Thanks for breakfast, Mom.”

I knew what his childhood had cost him and seeing him smiling and spending time with my mother made me feel happy, as if his wounds were beginning to heal.

I had started painting again a month after our little angel left for heaven. I liked to sit in front of the window and draw flowers or the sky, It made me feel calm.

“Hello...” a light knock on the door made me turn to look at Nikki standing with her hands in her pockets. “Can I come in, baby?”

“Sure, you don’t have to ask,” I smiled, returning my gaze to the window, trying to imitate the color of the sunset.

“What are you doing, sugar?” I felt his arms go around my neck as he rested his chin on my shoulder '' is it the sky?''

''Yeah, but I can't find the color between the blue and orange of the sunset… it's so difficult and beautiful''

''I know… do you mind if I interrupt you a little?'' he looked at me like a little kid as he sat next to me on the floor

''Sure love, what happened?'' I looked at him a little returning my attention to the color palette in my hand

''Well… I want to be honest with you, from now on I won't keep any secrets from you okay?..''

''Ok?.. you're scaring me'' I looked at him lowering my color palette looking at him curiously

''Well… love I… I couldn't contain myself and… after well… you know our loss happened… I injected myself again… I felt really bad and I didn't think about it I just did it..'' his voice lowered little by little until it was silent as his hands played

''But Nikki…''

''Wait… I know I promised you and I'm sorry love I really am sorry it's just that… I know that losing our baby was my fault, I made you go through too much stress and I caused… all that to happen''

''No Nikki look at me, it's not your fault love'' my hands took his face slowly arranging his hair out of his face ''these are things that had to happen to grow and take this life more seriously don't blame yourself''

''It's just that… I don't want to make you go through so much anymore, I don't want to be a useless drug addict, you don't deserve it..'' his eyes showed so much regret, it was impossible for his words not to hurt ''I… I talked to the boys'' he looked at me taking a pamphlet out of his jacket giving it to me like a little boy ''we decided to seek help and join together to end all the addictions that made us complete idiots, it's a hospital and I want to go to so they can help me"

"I'm so proud of you…" I smiled at him feeling my eyes wet as I hugged him tightly and he returned the gesture by sitting me on his lap "You're going to make it, like everything you've achieved on your own, I'm going to support you in every step you take, I promise"

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It's been a year since Nikki and the boys sought help, they had their problems as a band after that but Nikki always reminded me ''It's band problems love, don't worry'' he had become such a calm and positive man that sometimes it was strange to miss the troubled Nikki Sixx.

It was 8am when I came out of a shower, a completely calm shower with no interruptions, I still managed to put some lotion on my body and some clean pajamas to go downstairs to make breakfast when I froze in front of the bed.

There was Nikki, holding our little Faith, it was so adorable and funny to watch them together, she almost disappeared in her daddy's wide arms as she held his finger and with her other little hand she held her head while sleeping, she took that pose from me.

I carefully placed a blanket over both of them, it was early November and the cold air was coming in through the only open window that Nikki refused to close, but it was impossible not to feel my heart melt and I carefully laid down behind him hugging him caressing the small chubby cheek of our little girl

''Don't wake her up..'' Nikki murmured making me smile ''I barely managed to get her to sleep''

''I'm sorry baby..I'm going to make breakfast'' I caressed his hair kissing his shoulder getting up slowly from the bed

I felt like our life was perfect after everything we had suffered, watching Nikki being the most loving and caring father with our Faith made me feel complete, when daddy was home there wasn't a second that he didn't have his little girl in his arms, it didn't matter if he was in his study or with the boys, he was the proudest father and he didn't lose sight of her even when Uncle Tommy carried her and played with her making her laugh.

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It's been 3 years since Faith came into our lives, now Vince has returned to the band and the boys are on a new tour around the country, Nikki barely had the schedule of dates and asked me to pack bags for me and Faith because he wanted us to be with him at all time.

''Look, honey, who's there?'' Faith was a little version of Nikki, her dark hair had been inherited from me but her beautiful eyes and features were totally from her daddy

''It's daddy'' she smiled clapping as she listened to the notes the boys played ''mommy, daddy is so cool''

''I know, daddy is the best'' she kept moving her little head with her pink headphones protecting her ears while I held her on my waist looking at the band.

Nikki kept looking at us, I could see how from time to time his attention focused on us on the side of the stage, blowing kisses towards us but I encouraged Faith to respond to those kisses telling her that they were all for her, she is totally a daddy's girl.

''Mommy, when are we going to tell daddy?'' Her green eyes looked at me as she innocently fluttered her eyelashes

''We'll tell him tonight but for now it's our secret okay?'' I smiled at her giving her a kisses attack on her little face making her laugh

No one said it would be easy being Mrs. Sixx and now it would be a little less easy with another Sixx growing inside me.

[sofiareidings]

Falling For You

Summary: Spencer is completely oblivious to how madly in love you are. That's it. Warnings: fluff and swearing.

A/N: I feel like this idea has been done before, so if I subconsciously copied a fic, let me know!! Also, I didn't mean to do it, but this story is technically spencerxgn!reader so. Also, i'm back!! Another story is coming out at 9pm EST, so be ready!!!

Word Count: 0.9k

Song Suggestions: Wildest Dreams (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

You two clicked immediately. It was strange, you were both so opposite. I guess that's what made it work. What he lacked you made up for and reversed. Not many other people knew much about your personal life except for him. Your favourite thing about him was his words. Everytime he rambled about the most random times you could listen forever.

Whenever he looked at you, you melted. When he smiled your face burned from blushing. And whenever he talked you just wanted to kiss him. But you had no clue if he felt the same. For a genius he was quite oblivious to your flirting and comments. If he liked you he definitely had a good way of hiding it.

There was only one issue.

***

The movie was about halfway through and you made sure to turn the couch into a bed, Spencer had come over to watch it with you. If someone asked you tomorrow morning what the movie was about you wouldn't be able to say, he'd been talking the whole time.

"...That actually isn't correct," He started, moving his hands around for emphasis. "In the wild, there are two formally recognised lion subspecies. The African lion is found in Africa, south of the Sahara desert. The Asiatic lion exists in one small population around Gir Forest National Park in western India. Wild lions in the west and central Africa are more closely related to these Asiatic lions in India than to those found in southern and east Africa. So realistically the characters would be..."

Listening to him talk was like heaven, but at the same time it was hell. He just looked so huggable.

No, kissable. The butterflies in your stomach made you giggle, he paused and frowned. Looking like a lost puppy.

"What? Did I say something wrong?" Stumbling over the words as he spoke, you stopped laughing and grabbed his hands while smiling.

"No, no you didn't. It was just…cute." You muttered.

"Thank you?" A confused look on his face when he responded. Your heart shattered a little, that was obvious wasn't it? Did his feelings not reciprocate? "Oh! Also, manes on male lions tell a story. Male lions grow impressive manes the older they get. These manes grow up to 16 cm long and are a sign of dominance. The older they get, the darker their manes go. As well as attracting females, their manes may also protect…"

His words trailed off again and he stared at you. "You keep being weird. You're all red. Did I say something wrong? I know that sometimes I speak for too long and I go on and on, which annoys people-" He sighed, "And I'm doing it now. I'm sorry."

"No, please. I love when you talk. It's calming." Grinning, you continued, "So what about protection?"

"Oh, um…manes can also protect their neck and head from injuries during a fight." He slowed down his speaking, like he was a little self-conscious about his words now. When he stopped talking everything was silent, except for the sound of the movie quietly playing on the TV in front of you.

"Spence? What's wrong?" Tilting your head and looking at him, he was staring at the TV but he didn't seem to be watching it. Just thinking, his eyebrows furrowed like they normally did while he was deep in thought. "What are you thinking about?"

"Have you been flirting with me?" He blurted out, looking back up and at you. You almost jumped, not expecting that question.

"What?" Still in shock it took you a minute to respond. Letting the silence fill the air again, he didn't speak. He just stared, waiting for an answer. "I-What would you think if I was?"

"I would've wished I'd noticed sooner." He sighed, making that puppy-dog face you loved. Neither of you really knew what to do and sat there for what you would believe could've been hours.

"Fuck it." You breathed out and as if he knew what you were thinking as well he leaned in at the same time as you, kissing you softly. After a couple seconds you felt his hands wrap around your face, holding it as he kissed more.

Your hands didn't know where to go, after a couple more seconds they finally found their place, one around the back of his neck and the other tucked around his waist. Pulling you closer to him.

A couple seconds later you both moved away from each other, only long enough to catch your breaths and muttering random words. Before you knew it the both of you were back to kissing, to make up for how long you guys spent not kissing.

The longer it went the closer to each other you got, his one hand started to slide down your neck and then your waist when suddenly your hand hit a button and the movie that was still playing turned up to full volume.

Both scrambling for the remote he managed to shut the TV off, surrounding you both in the darkness of the night.

The two of you continued to kiss every once in a while but it didn't take long for the darkness to make you both sleepy and you ended up just cuddling. You fell asleep with your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. He had one hand holding you close to him, as if someone was coming to steal you away. The other hand tracing up and down your back until he too, drifted off to sleep.

[candycandy00]

Sooo the prisoner from the ICU is now on the same regular floor as mom. I saw several cops going in and out of a room down the hall.

Which means I gotta write a fic about it!

Touya x Reader. Fem Reader. Suggestive but no smut.

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

Imagine you’re a college chick staying with your hospitalized mom. You’ve heard about a dangerous criminal named Touya who was recently shot by police during an escape attempt, but you only realized today that he’s at the same hospital, on the same floor, as your mom. The armed guards and cops going in and out of the room make it pretty obvious.

You’ve been taking showers in a small, damp shower room down the hall, and that’s exactly what you’re doing when you hear a commotion outside the room. People running, men shouting. Several minutes pass, and then the door to the shower room flings open. You could’ve sworn you locked the door!

You peek around the dingy shower curtain and find yourself face to face with a heavily scarred young man with white hair and wild blue eyes.

Without a word, he yanks the curtain back, takes only a moment to let his gaze slide down your naked form, then grabs your arm. He jerks your dripping wet body against his and holds a stolen scalpel to your neck.

“Not a fucking peep, or I’ll slit your throat!” he says to you, his voice low and dangerous.

“Please… don’t hurt me!” you say in a frantic whisper.

He presses the blade into your skin, drawing a tiny drop of blood as his hand tightens around your arm. “What did I just say?!”

You clamp your mouth shut and nod. The water is still running, pouring down your trembling back, the wetness from your front soaking into the man’s pale blue hospital pajamas as he presses you up to him.

“Now, you’re gonna be my insurance, understand?” he asks.

You nod again.

“They’re not gonna risk shooting a pretty thing like you, so I’m keeping you close.”

Another nod, and that’s when you notice the growing red spot on his abdomen. His gunshot wound, apparently, hasn’t healed enough yet.

He follows your gaze, looking down at where your bodies meet. You feel heat flood your face as he stares.

“I need clothes,” he suddenly says, then puts his hand on the doorknob.

“Wait, I can’t go out there naked!” you tell him, keeping your voice as quiet as possible.

He pulls away from you slightly and lets his eyes roam. He’s getting an eyeful of everything! You reach for the shower curtain and try to pull it in front of yourself, but he tears it out of your grasp. “Get dressed. You have one minute.”

While he watches, you dress quickly, wincing at the feel of your clean clothes instantly being soaked by the water dripping all over you. It’s a gross feeling, but at least you’re covered by your panties, pajama shorts, and tank top.

There’s a strange, hungry look in his eyes as he watches you, but he says nothing. He carefully opens the door and looks both ways in the hall. “Let’s go,” he says, taking hold of your hand. “If you try anything, I’ll gut you.”

You allow yourself to be pulled along with him as he darts into the hall. He moves along, glancing about for anyone approaching. He steps into a couple of rooms with sleeping patients. One is a woman. Another is a small child. He scoffs and tries again, walking into a third room with a young man dozing in his bed.

With a speed and smoothness that suggests he’s done something like this before, he raids the storage cabinet in the room, finding a duffel bag. He grabs it and drags you into the hall, quickly finding an empty room. He tells you to keep watch as he opens the bag and pulls out a change of clothes. Seemingly paying no mind to the show he’s putting on for you, he strips off the pajamas and pulls on the stolen clothes.

You can’t miss the way the deep purple scars create alluring shapes across his toned body. If he wasn’t a violent criminal threatening your life, you’d think he’s pretty hot. Especially with those gorgeous blue eyes.

When he’s done changing, he pulls you close to him again. Your tits press against his chest, and it’s obvious that he’s noticed how the wetness from the shower has turned your thin white top see through.

“You’re coming with me to the parking garage, then I’ll let you go,” he says.

You look up at him, feeling the heat from his body seep into yours. “Thank you.”

The two of you sneak down the hall and make it to an elevator, where he pulls you inside and pushes the number for the floor that leads to the garage.

While waiting for the elevator to reach the right floor, he looks down at you. “You don’t look like a patient,” he says, probably noting that you’re wearing your own pajamas. “Who are you here with?”

“My mom,” you answer. “She’s really sick.”

His eyes remain locked with yours for several seconds, then he looks away from you and says, “I hope she gets better.”

You can’t help smiling at him. “Thanks.”

As the elevator stops and Touya pulls you out and down another hall, you think to yourself that he might not be the maniac the news made him out to be.

Out in the parking garage, he looks around to make sure the coast is clear, then begins checking the doors of vehicles until he finds a car unlocked. You stand watch for him while he hot wires it.

Once the engine starts, he stands outside the car and looks you over again. “You’re free to go,” he says.

You hesitate, remaining beside the car. “To be honest, I’m a little disappointed,” you tell him.

He looks surprised. “Huh?”

“Well,” you say, stepping closer to him, “I thought you’d have your way with me.”

His eyes widen, then he grins. “What’s your name?”

You yell him, and he leans in to kiss you, his tongue running over your lips. “Maybe I’ll come find you,” he says, a dangerous edge to his words. Is this a threat? Or something else? Regardless, you look forward to him doing so.

He drives off in the stolen car and you go back inside, returning to your mother’s room to check on her while cops and guards run around frantically, searching for their missing prisoner.

[fungifanart]

hello my gay mycelium i am giving you one of my draft ideas (go wild, it's been rotting since 2023)

leona kingscholar + hands.

what do you think about his hands ;)

Hold Me Tight

Characters: Leona Kingscholar, male reader

Cw: Self-doubt, guilt, hurt/comfort

Word count: 793

Notes: If no one else got me, I know Soru's got me. Can I get an amen?

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

It's been roughly a month since you and Leona officially became boyfriends and you honestly couldn't be happier.

From the outside, it may look like nothing's changed between you and him: Same eating lunch together, same friendly banter between classes, same naps taken together at various times in various places, but it all feels so much more intimate now that you're dating that you can't help the sound of your heart thumping in your chest!

However, if you were to name one thing that feels truly different now, it's that his touches feel a lot more...hesitant.

If you aren't the one to take his hand while walking together, he'll never do it. And even when you reach out, you'll notice the smallest flinch in his hand before he reciprocates.

He does have his moments where he'll put his hand around your waist or shoulder while out in the halls or during naps, but even then, his touches have a certain feather-light quality to them that have become concerning the longer they go on.

Eventually, you decide to confront him about it.

Knocking on his door and announcing your presence, you walk into Leona's room to see him laying on his bed, as usual.

"Looks like you're enjoying yourself." You say as you walk to the side of the bed, earning a half-asleep grunt from Leona in response, "Mind if I join you?"

Your boyfriend lets out another grunt before lifting up the covers and making room for you.

Laying down next to him, you decide to test the waters by gently placing your hand on top of his and, just like you'd expected, his hand flinches away for a split second before quickly returning the gesture.

"...Leona, I need to ask you something." You say while sitting up in the bed.

"Mm...?" The lion responds while opening his eyes to look at you drowsily.

"Do you...not like touching me?" You ask directly, feeling his hand grow tense in your grasp.

"...What makes ya think that?" Leona asks, fully awake now.

"I've noticed several times now how you always flinch when I try to hold your hand and you always hold me so gingerly..." You explain as the self-doubt starts taking hold, "Am I...doing something wrong? Am I making you uncomfortable?"

In the silence, you hear Leona's breath hitch before he fully sits up next to you, "N-no, it ain't anythin' like that. It's just..." The lion takes his hand away from yours to look at it, "We both know what these hands have done. We both saw all that they've taken. They took the dorm's hopes away, they took the moisture out of the air, and they nearly took a life, which could've easily been yours." He pulls his knees into his chest, a defensive position you've never seen him take before, "When I think about holding you, my mind flashes back to the Spelldrive tournament and I get...scared. Scared that these hands might end up really hurting you, like they did with everyone else."

You remain silent for a moment as you move closer to your boyfriend, "It must be tough to carry that guilt for so long. To not be able to trust yourself to not hurt even your boyfriend." Very gently, you wrap your hand around the other man's forearm, guiding it and his hand to lay against your chest so he can feel your steady heartbeat, "This may sound strange, but...I love your hands!" You exclaim, earning a confused look from the lion, "I love them because they're yours! I mean, how could I not love everything about you?" The other man continues to look at you in bewilderment, "And it's not just love, I trust you too! So if you can't trust yourself, then trust in the me that trusts you! That's why we're together, isn't it?"

Leona looks stunned for a moment before releasing his hand from your grasp, but unfurling his legs, "Being with me...it'll only get harder from here. I won't blame ya if ya decide to go back on your choice now..." He practically whispers while turning his head away.

Slightly frustrated, you quickly move so that you're straddling the other man so he can't turn away, "You say that like I'm not actively choosing you everyday, even now." You state plainly as if it were a fact of life, which it may as well be to you, as Leona's eyes widen, "No matter what happens, no matter what these hands do from here on out, know that I'm with you, one hundred percent." You finish as you guide his hand up to cup your cheek and this time, you don't have to keep it there for him.

[redvexillum]

First Kiss: Unspoken

A/N: Let's start our New Years Event...on New Years! Happy New Years Day (for EST timezone folks!)

SUMMARY: Adam, the first man, hopes to win over his wife Lilith on their first New Year together by preparing a romantic setting with flowers and sparkling stones. But as he waits by the waterfall under a starry sky, Lilith never comes. Where could she have gone?

As the first man in human existence, Adam bore the weight of God’s decree: to go forth and multiply with his wife, Lilith. Yet nearly a year had passed since their creation, and she hadn’t let him so much as touch her. Not a fleeting caress, not a whispered breath close enough to brush her skin. It was a constant ache, a gnawing frustration that festered beneath his rib cage.  

“Lilith,” Adam began, his voice low, coaxing, as he leaned against the tree she stood near. The golden glow of the garden played along his bare form, and he cocked his head, smouldering smirk firmly in place. He waggled his brows for good measure, his gaze unabashedly trailing from himself to her. “Tonight, at midnight, maybe we could...”  

His grin widened as he anticipated her response. She was glorious in the dappled sunlight, her hair gleaming like spun gold, cascading over her shoulders with an ethereal radiance. But her expression? Frigid as ever. A single brow arched, her lips curling into a faint, dismissive scoff.  

Adam braced himself for the verbal lash he knew was coming, his pulse quickening in equal parts anticipation and exasperation. It made him wonder, not for the first time, how they were ever deemed fit for one another.  

And yet, tonight would mark their first New Year since their creation. Perhaps he could turn this night into something special. Something that would change everything.  

Lilith’s melodic hum broke the silence. “It is New Year’s tonight, isn’t it?” Her voice was like a siren’s song, a lilting tune that could send any man to his knees. But the smile she gave him wasn’t soft or sweet; it was sharp, jagged, like a predator baring its teeth.  

“Then meet me at the waterfall by the berry bush tonight,” she said, her grin deepening, her tone cryptic. “There, you’ll have the answer you seek.”  

Adam blinked, his mind racing. Did this mean what he thought it did? His heart thudded, excitement coursing through his veins like a wild drumbeat. A grin split his face as he sauntered closer, his voice dropping into a growl. “Why not start now?”  

The atmosphere shifted, a chill creeping in as her smile froze. Her piercing gaze narrowed, and she pressed a single, elegant finger against his chest, pushing him back with surprising strength.  

“Tonight,” she commanded, her voice cold and unyielding as iron. “Surely, you’re not an animal with zero self-control.”  

Heat flared beneath Adam’s skin, anger curling low in his gut. Ever since Lilith had begun venturing off on her own, gathering food or simply wandering, she’d grown more... defiant. Insolent, even. Their arguments had become fiery clashes, with words hurled like jagged rocks.  

Still, he clenched his jaw, determined to prove her wrong. Lifting his chin, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Of course,” he replied, his tone lofty, though his pride stung like a fresh wound.  

Without another word, Lilith turned her back on him, her golden hair swaying with each step. She never said where she went during these times, and he never asked—not that he cared, he told himself.  

And yet, as he watched her retreating figure, her silhouette growing smaller until it disappeared altogether, a hollow ache settled in his chest. Lilith was all he had, and if God Himself declared she was made for him, then surely this was what love was supposed to feel like—this gnawing emptiness, this insatiable longing.  

Adam’s lips parted as if to call her back, but no sound emerged. The garden, vibrant and teeming with life, felt strangely still.  

With a deep breath, he set off, the thrill of anticipation warring with the ever-present ache in his chest. Midnight couldn’t come soon enough.  

Adam had watched birds before, the way they courted with shiny rocks or delicate flowers, offerings made with careful precision to win the favour of their mates. It seemed absurdly simple, even cheesy, but as he pondered the first New Year he would spend with his one and only wife, he couldn’t help but wonder if the gesture might mean something to Lilith. Something to commemorate their first time as husband and wife, should she allow it.  

The thought stirred a faint spark of hope in his chest as he set out. His eyes scanned the garden for anything beautiful enough to catch her attention. Before long, a cluster of blue and pink wildflowers caught his eye. Their petals, small and delicate in his hands, seemed to shimmer like fragments of a rainbow. Adam couldn’t help but grin as he carefully bunched them together.  

Humming a tune that had neither rhyme nor reason, he continued on until something gleaming beneath the sunlit waters of a shallow ravine caught his attention. His eyes lit up.  

“Oh!” he exclaimed, leaping into the chilly stream with all the enthusiasm of a child discovering treasure. Cold water splashed against his bare skin as he held the flowers high above his head to keep them dry. He bent low, plucking smooth, glittering pebbles from the riverbed. For a brief moment, they gleamed like stars against the dark water, their beauty mesmerizing.  

But the magic faded almost as quickly as it came. Once out of the water, the pebbles turned to a dull, unremarkable grey. Adam frowned, disappointment flickering across his face. Then an idea struck him—one he was sure was brilliant. He could dig a small hole, fill it with water, and leave the stones submerged. That way, when Lilith awoke the next morning, she would see their sparkle again, as if they’d never lost their charm.  

“Thank you, Lord,” he muttered, puffing up with pride, “for giving me not just brawn but brains as well.”  

He set to work, gathering the smoothest, most polished stones he could find until his hand was too full to carry any more. Satisfied with his offering, he made his way to the designated spot where, he hoped, everything would change between them.  

Once there, he selected the softest patch of ground, lush with vibrant moss. Carefully, he clumped the moss into a cozy mound, imagining it as the perfect resting place for their heads. Then he dug a small hole, filling it with water to hold the stones. Yet when the water turned murky and brown, his frown deepened. The brilliant colours of the pebbles vanished beneath the sediment.  

“Maybe it’ll settle with time,” he reasoned aloud, though doubt gnawed at him. Resolute, he placed the flowers beside the mossy mound with a gentleness that belied his frustration. He stepped back to admire his work, then sat cross-legged, humming soft, meaningless notes to fill the quiet as he waited.  

The rustle of bushes nearby made him pause. His head snapped up just as a familiar pair of fuzzy, orange ears tipped with black emerged from the undergrowth.  

A delighted smile spread across his face. “Oh, hey!” he called out.  

The fox padded into view, her bushy tail wagging low behind her. Two smaller kits trailed after her, their movements clumsy but endearing.  

Adam laughed. “Look at you,” he said, his voice warm with affection. “You went ahead and continued God’s blessing without hesitation.”  

He reached out his hand to greet her, his fingers brushing her soft fur. He could still remember the day he’d saved her, pulling her tiny, drowning body from the river’s grasp. Ever since, she’d rarely strayed far from his side, her loyalty unwavering.  

The fox tilted her head, one ear twitching as if she understood his words.  

Adam puffed out his chest, pride swelling within him. “I might need a little privacy tonight,” he said, his tone conspiratorial. “Because tonight is the night I’m going to have my own offspring.” His grin widened as he glanced at her kits. “Maybe they can play with yours someday.”  

The baby foxes tumbled and tousled, their tiny yips a soft melody that wove itself into the symphony of the evening. The gentle rush of the waterfall splashing into the shallow base harmonized with the rustling trees swayed by the cool breeze. Overhead, birds chirped a final refrain before settling for the night, completing nature’s tranquil ensemble.  

Adam smiled at the scene, his heart lifting. Tonight would be a great night. He could feel it deep in his soul, as if every part of creation conspired to make this moment perfect.  

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars emerged, glittering like scattered jewels across the inky sky, Adam sat by the waterfall, his carefully prepared gifts displayed before him. The air grew cooler, the hush of night settling around him.  

But Lilith was nowhere to be found.  

He pursed his lips, his brows knitting together as he scanned the shadows and listened for her approach. Hours passed, and still, she didn’t come. The fox, ever faithful, returned to him repeatedly throughout the day, her bright eyes inquisitive as she watched him. By nightfall, she had curled up beside him, her small body rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep.  

Adam glanced at his offerings. The once-vibrant flowers had wilted, their petals drooping as though mourning the absence of their intended recipient. The pebbles in the water no longer gleamed; the murky liquid had dulled their lustre. A faint pang struck his heart as he imagined Lilith’s voice—sharp and dismissive—chiding him for plucking the flowers in vain.  

That familiar emptiness crept back, hollow and cold. He breathed out slowly, wrapping his arms around his knees as he tilted his head to the stars as if somehow he could find the answers he sought. 

Unbeknownst to him, Lilith had already given him her answer.  

She would never be his.  

Elsewhere, beneath a different sky, her laughter filled the air—a sound warm and light, unrestrained. Beside her stood a man, golden-haired and blue-eyed, his presence as radiant as the sun. Lucifer leaned his head gently against her shoulder, his gaze soft and adoring.  

“Lucifer,” she murmured, her voice like a sigh, her smile tender and genuine in a way Adam would never see.  

“Lilith,” he replied, his expression mirroring hers. His hand reached out to cradle her cheek, his touch reverent as though she were something sacred. Slowly, he brought his face closer, pausing just shy of a kiss. “Happy New Year, my sweetest love,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering shut.  

“Happy New Year…” she breathed, closing her eyes and pressing her lips to his. The word she murmured after—"love"—was one she would never say to Adam.  

Back at the waterfall, the night dragged on. Adam soon fell asleep, his resolve to wait unbroken even as the flowers withered completely, and the moss began to dry and brown. He didn’t notice how the passage of time buried the once-sparkling pebbles beneath layers of sediment.  

When the first light of dawn broke through the trees, he finally stirred, his limbs stiff and his heart heavy. He didn’t understand why Lilith hadn’t come, why she seemed so distant. He wouldn’t know, not for a long time. Not until he had long been cast out of Eden, his innocence and ignorance stripped away, his mortal life ended.  

And by then, it would be too late.  

Lilith had chosen her path—a life that would never intertwine with his.  

❀˖° Like my story? Toss a coffee to the gremlin—probably safe, but no promises! ❀˖° Join Voxtek Server and Follow Me for live updates!

[respectthepetty]

@italianpersonwithashippersheart and @slayerkitty, I think Dee will win the scholarship too because he is a winner and will burn the hospital down if he loses, but I think he going to stay because he has to make a decision and even if he wins the scholarship, he'd still lose.

Follow me down Wild Ass Theory Road:

The director said all the money and high-tech equipment is pointless if they don't have component doctors in the hospital.

Dee took personal responsibility for his youngest patient's care.

And Dee is here for the patients.

Dee is a doer rather than a thinker like Ter, so he likes to be hands-on. Ter is compiling a lit review and filming videos, which is valid.

But Dee is conducting original research and coordinating activities.

Dee also doesn't like presenting.

Ter likes brushing shoulders with the big wigs.

Dee, strangely, isn't about that life, and really just wants to do his job, very well.

He could've been a face (dermatology), but he didn't want to do that.

He wanted to flex some knuckles, break some bones, and get the joints poppin'!

Dee is (fake) dating the boxer that the hospital, specifically his department, is sponsoring, and if the rumor mill was doing the rounds before when news spread that he was only applying for the scholarship because Ter rejected him, if he wins, I think the rumors will spread that he only got it because the hospital wanted to please their World Champion Boxer.

I'm blind when it comes to Ter, so I think this would be a good chance for him to redeem himself and step up to defend Dee which is something he DID NOT DO last time.

Dee is going to win, but he doesn't want to really study abroad. He wants to be in the hospital, doing his job, helping his patients, and doing his own research. Ter wants to study more and be a nice prop for the hospital, so let him.

Give the real loser his dream while also rubbing salt in his loser wounds letting him know that he is only getting this because Dee, the winner, is letting him.

Also, when Yak was busy with training, Dee sent Yak a message first.

Then, when Yak went to training, Dee drove four hours round-trip to see him.

Dee didn't even want to stay longer in Japan and he checked in on Yak's fight while he was out of the country. Also note that Dee didn't want to present on their work from the previous year, while Ter was quick to state they would once again proving that Dee isn't trying to rehash the past but build on it so he can keep making advancements. Also, the director is Team DeeYak.

Never once during these events did Dee admit he missed Yak first because Dee. Must. Win. And admitting he misses Yak makes him a loser.

So would Dee really study abroad and leave Yak in Thailand when he misses him so much even after a few days? Or would it be better for Dee to finally admit that even if he won the scholarship, he doesn't want to be away from Yak? He wins, but he loses.

Finally, a wedding IS coming. Last Twilight already gave us a breakup and time jump before a wedding brought the couple back together. That could happen here, but it shouldn't have happened the first time, and it'd be hella weird for it to happen twice, from the same company, in the same year. This isn't the Japanese BL run. We don't need two nickles for this.

And Dee is wearing Yak's chain in the BTS image, so they are still together, and considering how much Thailand makes a WHOLE THING over couples trying to stay together when one is abroad (Never Let Me Go, Bad Buddy, 23.5), they are together at that wedding.

Therefore, my Wild Ass Theory is that Dee will win the scholarship and will have to leave before Yak's big fight or Cher and Yei's wedding, so Green Flag Yak will say, "take the opportunity because you deserve it" but Dee will say "NO!" to the scholarship, make it to Yak's fight or the wedding at the final moment paralleling this scene,

Then, he'll scream "YAK, I MISS YOU" and *scene*

Dee has gotta lose eventually, so let it be in the finale admitting the one thing he refuses to admit - Winning doesn't matter if he loses Yak.

AMEN!

[heathersdesk]

My grandfather was killed in a hit and run accident in 1978.

His mother and sister struggled with life after that. They decided to go on a trip across the United States together to get away from things for a while.

I discovered this trip when I was going through photo albums and suddenly saw a place I recognized.

The Salt Lake Temple.

They went to many places during that trip. But there was something truly special to me that, in one of the worst seasons of their lives, they ended up at the temple.

I served part of my mission at Temple Square. I was waiting for a visa to Brazil that I began to think was never coming. I had a truly horrendous time in the MTC babysitting a district of Elders who spent weeks on end bullying me and tearing down my self-esteem. I was told directly by someone, I forget who now, that I was being sent there to recover. And when I realized that the mission had no young Elders in it at all, that it was only Sisters and senior couples, I came to appreciate what that meant.

I had so many wild interactions there with so many people. Some of them were strange, like the guy who viewed the Book of Mormon as proof of alien interactions with humans. There were moments of heartbreak, like the woman who was in tears at the Christus statue who attacked us when we checked in on her. There were moments of pure delight, like when an LDS family with two young daughters came to that same Christus statue. The oldest girl, no older than 4 or 5, squealed "JESUS" and ran to the Savior's feet, little sister in tow. Whenever I hear someone mention the teaching to become as a little child, she is exactly who I think of.

There were also moments that were meant solely for me, like when I met the first Sister to ever be called to the Boston mission I had hoped to go to to wait for my visa. Boston has a large Brazilian population, many of whom are members of the Church. I had begged in prayer to be sent there and was told by other people it wouldn't happen because "Sisters don't go there." I had an entire conversation with the woman who was going to be that change. It seemed cruel to me at the time, dangling the carrot of something I wanted right in front of my face. In time, I've realized it was so I would remember that God does miracles and is aware of the desires of my heart, even if it means I don't get what I want. Someone needed to exercise enough faith to push that door open for women. I put my full weight behind it, and I can be just as proud that it opened for someone else.

But some of my favorite people I met there were people who just made me laugh. I met a Jewish convert from New York who told us his conversion story, how what drew him in was the Plan of Salvation. He summarized it in a New York accent in a voice I can still hear in my mind: "So you're a god, eventually. But can you pay RENT?!"

One of my favorite people I met was a Scottish convert named Agnes who was doing the Mormon trail across the US, beginning in New England and ending in Utah. She was a much older woman and told us all about her pilgrimage, and how she had cuddled with the oxen at the baptismal font in the Manhattan New York Temple. (I've been there. You enter into the baptistry on face level with them, or did the last time I was there.) She shared her testimony with us, and I'll never forget what she said.

She explained that the story of Joseph Smith was really hard to get her mind around. It truly is an insane set of asks: angels, gold plates, polygamy, and all the rest. She talked about how she came to accept it—not through any kind of empirical evidence or proof, but through faith and what that looked like.

For her, it was the recognition that being LDS was the best way she had ever encountered to live an excellent life. She said that the worst case scenario she could imagine is one where God would say to her, "You know that whole business with Joseph Smith was a load of crock, right? But you lived such a good life, I have to let you in anyway."

That has always stayed with me. Agnes was one of many people who came to the Square looking for something. I saw people come there looking for faith, or a fight, and truly everything in between. And it's only now that I'm older and wiser that I see something clearly now that I couldn't see then.

Agnes didn't need to come to Temple Square to find faith. She already had a tremendous amount of faith. She, and many others, were looking for conviction. I was at Temple Square long enough to learn you don't get that from a place. While a place like Temple Square can illuminate the possibilities for conviction through the lens of history, it doesn't bestow that conviction through contact or proximity alone. Conviction is made from the materials of your own life and your own choices. Your will, how firmly you place yourself into an immovable and unyielding position, is the measure of your convictions. It comes from within.

Faith is the decision to believe in what you cannot see, and what cannot be proven objectively. That never goes away. Nothing we experience in life, no place we ever visit, will create a shortcut under, over, or around that decision to believe, to trust in God. Faith, at its core, is a decision. The ability to continue making that decision over and over again, under all species of hardship and opposition, is conviction.

Where Jesus walked is nowhere near as important as how Jesus walked, and with whom. The same is true for all of us. Our walk with God might never take us anywhere near a temple because of where God has called us to go. But we are the holiest dwelling places of God on earth—not any of the buildings we've made.

Be a holy place of living faith wherever you are, whatever your circumstances may be. Worship God, no matter what places you can or cannot enter. There is more than one way to access a temple. One way is to enter a place that people invite God to dwell. The other is to become that place. There can be no separation from God where communion never ceases. It is the refuge that is unassailable by others for as long as the person wills it so. The torch within will not go out.

The temple is not special because it has some holy essence that springs forth out of nothing, to passively be absorbed by others. The temple is special because it directs people to Jesus Christ, who is the giver of healing and peace. The temple is just a building. It's Jesus Christ that is the true power behind it all, whose objective is to make you, me, and every person you know the holiest creature you've ever beheld. You are the end goal.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if i cut off someone reaching out for help on tumblr? i am a very anxious person. ive been on tumblr a very long time because most all other social media terrifies me as someone who grew up with the wild west internet a decade past (im in my late 20s) so i feel sometimes with how reckless and spurractic people can be online in chatroom and especially clearly public platforms where any stranger, malicious or otherwise can just archive your digital presence for personal use.

more recently as someone who has been here during the pornban and as an asexual really enjoyed the quiet with no drama farming and a slow pace to talk about more unique political topics in a measured way it is something im strangely nostalgic for and a great example of my sensibilities to people when they insist that i use other platforms like discord or twitter or whatever clone for these services comes out of the old guard introducing feature creep to copy everyone else or any other indi "were the anti corporate version" of the endless scroll apps. i just dont want it. tumblr is special because im desktop only, been here for years, and i have kept track of every single change made so i have manually adjusted the change through hacks to evade every bad decision on here and make my set up look identical to how it was in 2010. so let it be understood that i tend to be a loney person because of this stubbornness. web 3.0 is too dangerous to people with addictive tendencies that my adhd brings out and my need to wear my heart on my sleeve. so i hope i defended my personality type enough to show why someone like me would see a post about some horrible abuses they have fell victim to who also share alot of the marginalized status as me and writing depressive things in the replys of others posts as to attention seek about it.

i directly interact with this person, not only to check if they are real (but wow, modern chat bots make this part horrifying for me. we really cant ever know for sure what is real anymore. trying to find warmth on the internet feels impossible now a days) i have multiple conversations at this point both venting and just casually shooting the shit. but the begging for me to constantly repost their paypal makes me so nervous in a way that i feel so guilty for because it reminds me of all the scams that get associated with this kind of ebegging and the reminder that capitalism takes away all warmth from human interaction to make them purely transnational and conditional. but then it just has been escalating where im so scared that now its not enough that im reposing on my 8 follower, all mutual blog, they are asking me to share it on other socials. accounts i do not have i have a flip phone and a laptop and i am tinkering with a windows 7 tower that will never be connected to the internet so i can always have software sit perfectly in its time capsule for when i need it. i do not have a way to help this person outside of what i learned from collage psyche classes. a part of me is so scared to just abruptly cut them off and just delete my entire account like i tend to do often on tumblr for a multitude of reasons, its a part of what lets people survive being here this long but i worry that would crush them if i did that, i dont want to make them feel more hopeless and unwanted then they already talk about. but i am text on the internet through a screen. i can only do so much. so would i be the asshole if i just deleted my account with a "i hope you hang in there, the world is a harsh place but keep moving" to cut someone so similar to me who is struggling out of my life?

What are these acronyms?

[colethewolf]

ON THE THEORY OF ELI BEING CREATED BY THE NEMETON:

This is something that I've been sitting here thinking about for the past couple weeks and I just saw a piece of fanart last night that made me think about it even more, because honestly, the idea that Eli was created by the Nemeton is such a cool idea and it fits with the canon.

So, I don't even care that Jeff Davis is an idiot and was probably too stupid to think of this idea. I feel like I'm in the mood to write some meta after years and years of not writing meta.

Let's talk about it anyways.

We know that the Nemeton was functional during the 1940's before the Nogitsune came into power. And then, sometime after the Nogitsune's first run wild through Beacon Hills, somebody cut it down and essentially rendered it completely powerless.

Now, it stayed powerless for decades UNTIL that one night in the root cellar with Derek and Paige. When Derek killed Paige, he unknowingly committed a virgin sacrifice and sparked the Nemeton back to life. Albeit, the nemeton remained in a weakened state, as it was not back to full power and not working as a beacon to draw in supernatural creatures.

Cut to a few years later, what happens next?

The parents of the teen wolf trio get kidnapped by Jennifer so that she can complete her "three-fold death" sacrifice by killing three guardians. However, she never gets to complete the ritual because Stiles, Allison, and Scott sacrifice themselves in their parents place as surrogates.

Now, the sacrifice that Stiles, Allison, and Scott make was the surrogate sacrifice ritual that Deaton knew how to perform. It put darkness around their hearts and gave them the ability to locate the Nemeton. But that was it, right?

It didn't also act as another virgin sacrifice, right?

Scott? Not a virgin.

Allison? Not a virgin.

Stiles? Not a vir—OH WAIT.

Stiles.

Unintentionally committing a virgin sacrifice by sacrificing himself and giving another spark of power to the Nemeton. And this time, it bumps the nemeton back up to full power after Derek had previously sparked it back to life.

Now, you might be saying:

"But what about Jennifer? She committed virgin sacrifices, too!"

She did. But not to the Nemeton. She was a druid emissary long before the Nemeton was brought back to life. And druids have the ability to perform rituals to basically earn themselves more powers. Those virgin sacrifices that she did in the first few episodes of 3A went straight to herself, not to the Nemeton.

Which means the next virgin sacrifice in the queue was the one that Stiles made by drowning himself, not knowing that he was technically committing two different sacrifices that night.

Derek commits a virgin sacrifice. Then Stiles commits a virgin sacrifice (albeit by sacrificing himself instead of another person). Two consecutive virgin sacrifices by Derek and Stiles, separated by years, and both totally unintentional. And yet both sacrifices powered back up the dead Nemeton.

We know the Nemeton is at least somewhat sentient as it can pick and choose who to let get close to it in the woods. So, who's to say that the Nemeton doesn't hold Derek and Stiles in high regard for bringing it back to life? Who's to say that the Nemeton isn't thankful?

Hmm?

Perhaps, even thankful enough to give Derek and Stiles the ultimate gift in its gratitude? The gift of a son? The gift of a son, born from the Nemeton?

Even Eli seems to have some random, totally strange connection to the Nemeton without really having an explanation for it. He just randomly sleepwalks in the middle of the night and ends up at the Nemeton.

Why?

Now, you could argue that Eli has been sleepwalking out to the Nemeton because of the whole Allison situation in the movie. But what sense does that make? Eli doesn't know Allison Argent. He never did. She was dead before he was even born.

But if we're getting meta in here, Eli just so happens to be 15 years old (the same age Derek was when he sacrificed Paige in the root cellar and woke the Nemeton up). Maybe the Nemeton thinks 15 is the perfect age to start dropping hints to Eli.

In my mind, Deaton was called out to the Nemeton in the middle of the night and found little Eli as a newborn in a little wicker basket made from Nemeton branches and soft leaves, just sitting there asleep in the middle of the Nemeton stump.

And Deaton, being a druid and the old Hale family emissary, knew exactly what the Nemeton was offering and why it was offering it. So, he dropped Eli in his basket onto Derek's doorstep, knocked real loud, and watched as Derek adopted the boy—totally unaware that Eli is 50/50 both his and Stiles'.

But that conversation comes much later.

So, there you have it.

Eli Stilinski-Hale. The son of the Nemeton. The son of Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski.

🌱