#use you savior complex and help me

[furfurtheferret]

Hey can i have a honest opinion on something?

A few moth ago i started the translation of a lore doc into french, this decision was mostly motivated by a want to do something for a fandom since i never finish my drawings/stories etc , but also to work my english (and make it usefull, i wanted to do something usefull). However now i kind of doubt the utility of it all... first cause ...it's not very intersting to read lmao but i've accepted that it would be more of an archive than anything really...meaningful?idk but also : the lore doc is basically a copy pasta of what's on the tweeter of the Creators (but translated obv), but that means that every link wont be accessible to all -> language barriers + twitter (i don't have it so it's already a problem for me when i can't acces the threads) but it also means that the lore is very limited and we miss every little interrations or quircks of the characters ...yknow, what's really interesting about lore. I think that the day to day actions of the characters are not as interesting as what makes them special....

Today i wanted i bit more of infos about a deal a character made , cause what i had was litteraly "This character made a deal with This character" WHAT KIND OF DEAL?? when i searched on the wiki fandom the entire day was written in great details and the deal was kind of way more horrifing than how it was presented on the doc (dude offered him "good things" o whatever in exchange OF THE LIFE OF HIS SON) and something just clicked in me... IS it really still worth it to work on this translation? If anyone want to learn the lore it wont be very interesting since it's not that developped and it's hard to find what you want unless you know who and when it was. I don't want to let down the OP (but at the same time they didn't really asked, i proposed to make it more accessible WICH IT ISN'T ANYWAY SO FUCK ME). And at the same time the wiki is well more spread, and detailed. What the document has in fast updates the wiki has it in details ... The only "bad"thing that i note on the wiki was that when i made that search for the deal, the page for the specific character was EMPTY on the french side, and a lot of pages aren't translated or even present in both version (AND I HATE THE ADDS IT MAKES IT UNREADABLE i hate it i hate it i hate it)... I really want to help but idk what to do, cause i would hate to let this unfinished

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TLDR : dumb bitch started a useless translation, and could join the translation of a more usefull Wiki but don't want to let first project unfinished

[lovetogether]

We think the obsession with making mental illness appear to be something one suffers from and / or changes (or ruins) their entire life causes a lot of this paranoia one is faking their illness. Self diagnosis is something we advocate for as we’d rather someone look into recovery for something they may or may not have then never know. That and, most just cannot afford to get a diagnosis (+ for some an official diagnosis would mean putting their livelihood at risk). However the act of show casing mental illness as wholly damaging can create an idea of idealized mental illness. This idea that one must be in constant suffering to justify their diagnosis. Mental illness though is muted, it’s a subtle thing we find, even the most severe cases. Dissociation detaches you from yourself but you still exist as an entity, which can be mistaken as “healthy”. Hallucinations are not often grandiose but rather small intrusions on your life, things which make living an inconvenience but nothing to the level of a horror film. Intrusive thoughts and violent outbursts are real and something which should be discussed but this idea it is otherworldly or obscene helps no one. Most if not all mental illness symptoms can appear quietly. If it were understood just how “normal” it may feel to be mentally ill then perhaps people wouldn’t be so scared to accept themselves. People often think “I relate but it’s not as extreme” when the truth is it’s never entirely that extreme to begin with. Episodes are momentary, mental illness can be debilitating but even in that state it is never full force every moment. Understanding that the mentally ill are closer to you than you realize is an important step to understanding and welcoming the mentally ill into our communities . And accepting ourselves.

[windor-truffle]

a compilation of Asbel canonically being an angsty little bitch:

[bixels]

Learning that fans hated Applejack and called her "boring" is crazyyy to me because I genuinely, unironically believe AJ's the most complex character in the main six.

Backstory-wise, she was born into a family of famers/blue collar workers who helped found the town she lives in. She grew up a habitual liar until she had the bad habit traumatized outta her. She lost both her parents and was orphaned at a young age, having to step up as her baby sister's mother figure. She's the only person in the main gang who's experienced this level of loss and grief (A Royal Problem reveals that AJ dreams about memories of being held by her parents as a baby). She moved to Manhattan to live with her wealthy family members, only to realize she'll never fit in or be accepted, even amongst her own family. The earlier seasons imply she and her family had money problems too (In The Ticket Master, AJ wants to go to the gala to earn money to buy new farm equipment and afford hip surgery for her grandma).

Personality-wise, she's a total people-pleaser/steamroller (with an occasional savior complex) who places her self worth on her independence and usefulness for other people, causing her to become a complete workaholic. In Applebuck Season, AJ stops taking care of herself because of her obsessive responsibilities for others and becomes completely dysfunctional. In Apple Family Reunion, AJ has a tearful breakdown because in she thinks she dishonored her family and tarnished her reputation as a potential leader –– an expectation and anxiety that's directly tied to her deceased parents, as shown in the episode's ending scene. In The Last Roundup, AJ abandons her family and friends out of shame because believes she failed them by not earning 1st place in a rodeo competition. She completely spirals emotionally when she isn't able to fulfill her duties toward others. Her need to be the best manifests in intense pride and competitiveness when others challenge her. And when her pride's broken, she cowers and physically hides herself.

Moreover, it's strongly implied that AJ has a deep-seated anger. The comics explore her ranting outbursts more. EQG also obviously has AJ yelling at and insulting Rarity in a jealous fit just to hurt her feelings (with a line that I could write a whole dissection on). And I'm certain I read in a post somewhere that in a Gameloft event, AJ's negative traits are listed as anger.

Subtextually, a lot of these flaws and anxieties can be (retroactively) linked to her parents' death, forcing her to grow up too quickly to become the adult/caregiver of the family (especially after her big brother becomes semiverbal). Notice how throughout the series, she's constantly acting as the "mom friend" of the group (despite everything, she manages to be the most emotionally mature of the bunch). Notice how AJ'll switch to a quieter, calmer tone when her friends are panicking and use soothing prompts and questions to talk them through their emotions/problems; something she'd definitely pick up while raising a child. Same with her stoicism and reluctance at crying or releasing emotions (something Pinkie explicitly points out). She also had a childhood relationship with Rara (which, if you were to give a queer reading, could easy be interpreted as her first 'aha' crush), who eventually left her life. (Interestingly enough, AJ also has an angry outburst with Rara for the same exact reasons as with EQG Rarity; jealous, upset that someone else is using and changing her). It's not hard to imagine an AJ with separation anxiety stemming from her mother and childhood friend/crush leaving. I'm also not above reading into AJ's relationship with her little sister (Y'all ever think about how AB never got to know her parents, even though she shares her father's colors and her mother's curly hair?).

AJ's stubbornness is a symptom of growing up too quickly as well. Who else to play with your baby sister when your brother goes nonverbal (not to discount Big Mac's role in raising AB)? Who else to wake up in the middle of the night to care for your crying baby sister when your grandma needs her rest? When you need to be 100% all the time for your family, you tend to become hard-stuck with a sense of moral superiority. You know what's best because you have to be your best because if you're aren't your best, then everything'll inevitably fall apart and it'll be your fault. And if you don't know what's best –– if you've been wrong the whole time –– that means you haven't been your best, which means you've failed the people who rely on you, which means you can't fulfill your role in the family/society, which makes you worthless . We've seen time and time again how this compulsive need to be right for the sake of others becomes self-destructive (Apple Family Reunion, Sound of Silence, all competitions against RD). We've seen in The Last Roundup how, when no longer at her best, AJ would rather remove herself from her community than confront them because she no longer feels of use to them.

But I guess it is kinda weird that AJ has "masculine" traits and isn't interested in men at all. It's totally justified that an aggressively straight, misogynistic male fandom would characterize her as a "boring background character." /s

At the time of writing this, it's 4:46AM.

[cryptidmickle]

so what if. and hear me out. i made my own au for shadowvanilla purposes-

au details below

HELLO SO I PRESENT AMNESIAC AU

so you see, i was minding my business, drawing and looking at cookies and how everyone has their own cool aus with awesome designs and i went "well im not very good at designing but i Love putting characters in Situations"

this au is mostly focused on shadowvanilla so dont be too hopeful I'll get into the other cookies besides their little circle, im ill for gay yaoi only okay

So! motions to comic above, amnesia smilk time! let me elaborate

Pure vanilla fucked up BIG TIME, in that he maybe ventured out to beast yeast alone to try and find out more about the beasts and a way to stop them, as people with a savior complex have a habit of doing. Maybe, perhaps, also at the same time, smilk was getting the workings of his new dough body done and sensing pv was nearby decided to take the opportunity to torment him a little, yknow he cant help himself! he needs to see him

a nasty little fight and confrontation in some old structures of smilk (or at the spire) result in pv using a strange spell he spotted in the surrounding papers and documents, and .... accidentally cracks smilk's soul jam! hehe, oops!

and also sealing his memories. double oops. damn, what are you gonna do now pv?

well he cant leave confused smilk alone here, and itd honestly be best the other beasts and dark enchantress dont drag him back there in this state, so he offers a hand.

"Come with me. We can help you, I'll make sure you're okay."

a memory-less smilk is confused by this but... he's already grabbing the other cookie's hand before he realizes it. It'll probably be fine, something about this cookie... makes something in him feel okay.

taps forehead, im still working everything out of course, and i WILL be cursing all of you with sketchy stuff about it when I'm able, i need more time to figure out smilk's behaviors without the soul jam and corruption

of course I'm always of the mind that pre-corruption smilk was kind of a rat and rude but how exactly is the real question!! how bad was it before the corruption exacerbated the negative qualities of knowledge and his personality

anyways,,, feel free to ask questions!! it could help me figure this all out, if yall are interested of course,,,,,,,my,,,, handful of crk followers SNRRKS

[zvdvdlvr]

savior complex + Aaron Hotchner

     “Hey, baby! So sorry I’m late, I got caught up at work,” you say with an overly saccharine tone.

     Aaron looks up from his phone as you approach him, eyeing you skeptically. He opens his mouth, but closes it when you shake your head ‘no’ frantically.

     Quietly, you rush out, “I’m so sorry. There’s been a man following me from the last four blocks and I don’t want to go home. Please just act like you know me until he goes away.”

     Without raising an eyebrow, Aaron’s eyes dart up and he sees the person you’re talking about. A man dressed in all black, eyes intently on you. “Don’t apologize, honey, I know how busy you get. Up for dinner?” Aaron wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close to him. He hopes he isn’t overstepping boundaries. “Just follow me,” he says quietly, leading you further down the sidewalk. “When we get to the bookstore up there, go inside. If he’s still following us I can take care of him.”

     “Okay,” you nod. “Thank you. I’m so sorry to ruin your night.”

     Aaron hears the truthfulness in your voice and he looks down at you with uncharacteristically soft eyes. “You didn’t ruin my night. I’m just glad it’s me who helped you instead of some other weird guy,” he says lamely.

     You side-eye him. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

     Aaron pulls his wallet from his pocket with ease. “Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner with the FBI,” he tells you. He watches you scan his ID with wide eyes until he turn to the street with the bookstore. He took a quick glance over his shoulder and saw that the man wasn’t there. “He’s gone,” he informs you.

     However, you stay in Aaron’s grasp. Despite knowing the threat is gone, you choose to stay in this hot FBI man’s arm. You know you’re fooling yourself but you just wanted to imagine- for a couple more moments- that you do have a hot FBI boyfriend that escorts you to mundane places like the bookstore and calls you honey and protects you from all the bad guys.

     “Is there any way I can say thank you without saying it?” You ask with a nervous chuckle when he leads you to front of the building.

     Aaron watches you for a moment before checking his watch and scratching his head. “If you’re offering, I could eat- but don’t feel compelled. It’s really no proble-“

     “Agent Hotchner, it’s really no problem. Where do you want to go?”

     “Call me Aaron,” he smiles. “And… I could go for some burgers.”

[winwintea]

inyun

PAIRING ↬ next door neighbor!mark lee x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ fluff, romance, slight angst, potential soulmates, past lives au, friends to (?), shared dreams, the idea of inyun/inyeon or “fate”

SUMMARY ↬ when you move into a small apartment complex in seoul, your next-door neighbor, mark lee, seems like nothing more than an ordinary guy. but as the two of you get to know each other more, it suddenly feels like you’ve known him forever. then mark mentions his grandmother's belief in 인연. the idea that every encounter is woven by threads of fate. are these coincidences between you and mark really accidental or is there something deeper going on?

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.7k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ somebody (me) decided to rewatch past lives 🙈 this was supposed to be fluff and a gift for @https-lvesick but finals week started sinking in… thank you to my saviors @viasdreams and @polarisjisung for beta reading, love y'all <33

PLAYLIST ↬ jazz bar - dreamcatcher; mago - gfriend; you - nct dream; dejavu - nu’est w; wham bam shang-a-lang - silver

THERE IS A WORD IN KOREAN:

"인연"

it means providence or fate. 

but it's specifically about the relationships between people. 

it's an "인연" if two strangers even walk by each other in the street and their clothes accidentally brush. because it means there must have been something between them in their past lives.

Your apartment door was wide open, boxes half-unpacked and filling the hallway. You’d tried to keep things organized, but between the moving of your furniture and the delivery guy calling for directions, you slowly lost your organization.

You were crouched on the floor, handling a box of kitchenware, when you heard a muffled voice behind you.

“Uh, hi? Excuse me?”

Startled, you turned to see a guy standing at the end of the hallway, a paper bag balanced in one hand and a set of keys dangling from the other. He was dressed in a simple hoodie and sweatpants, glasses fixed upon his face, and his hair slightly tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Are… are you my new neighbor?” he asked in Korean, motioning toward the boxes that completely blocked his door.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” your voice squeaked as you responded in some broken korean, not mentally prepared to face a neighbor on the first day of moving him. You scrambled to move a tower of books out of his way. “I didn’t realize—let me just—”

“It’s fine, really,” he interrupted in English this time with a small laugh. “I’m Mark, by the way. Do you speak English?”

“Oh!” You paused mid-shove, shocked at his perfect accent. “Yes. Yes I do.” You were suddenly aware of how disheveled you looked. “Y/N,” you replied, brushing stray hair from your face. “Nice to meet you, and again, sorry for the mess. Your English is really good.”

“No worries. Happens to the best of us,” Mark said, crouching to help move the heavier boxes. “I’m from Canada, so English is kind of my thing.”

“Aah. I see.” You nodded, still mortified.

“This is your first day here?”

“Yeah. My friends were supposed to help, but they bailed at the last minute. So here I am, single-handedly creating a big explosive mess.”

Mark chuckled, lifting a box with ease. “I’d say you’re doing a pretty solid job for one person. Though... maybe try not to block your neighbors' doors next time.”

“Noted,” you said with an embarrassed laugh, standing to hold the door open as he slid the box inside.

When the hallway was clear, you expected him to leave, but he stayed, looking at the stacks of boxes still waiting to be unpacked. “Need an extra pair of hands?”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to—”

“I insist,” Mark said with a grin. “I’m a pro at this. Moved like five times in the last three years.”

Before you could protest further, Mark rolled up his sleeves and got to work. He moved like he really had done this a hundred times, lifting heavy items with ease and made the process less awkward with his small jokes.

“This box says ‘Bathroom,’ but it’s definitely full of shoes,” he teased, pulling out a pair of sneakers.

“Okay, maybe I got a little lazy with the labels,” you admitted.

“Lazy? Nah, this is strategic. Keeps life exciting,” he quipped, tossing the sneakers back in.

You laughed, the tension from earlier fading away. Somehow, he’d turned what felt like a stressful task into something almost fun.

Once the last box was inside, Mark clapped his hands together. “Mission accomplished. And since I’m basically your hero now, I think I’ve earned a reward. Got any snacks?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, I have… instant ramen?”

Mark grinned. “Perfect. My favorite.”

After settling in for a few days, you don’t encounter Mark again. That is, until a series of random moments start pulling you back into his orbit.  

On one of those nights, just past 9 p.m., the apartment complex suddenly plunges into darkness. The familiar buzz of your refrigerator stops, and the streetlights outside shut off, leaving your apartment only dimly lit from the moon. 

Groaning, you fumble around for your phone, only to realize the battery is at 4%. Great. You grab a flashlight, slowly open your door, and step out into the hallway, hoping to find someone who knows what is going on. 

That’s when you spot him.

Mark is sitting on the floor just outside his door, a small stack of candles beside him.

“Hey,” he greets, a faint smile on his face as he waves a lighter. “Power’s out in the whole block, apparently. Wanna borrow a candle?”

You take in his setup and smirk. He’s surrounded by neatly arranged tea lights and thick pillar candles.“Uh, are you in a cult or something?”

“Eh, my grandma’s kinda superstitious. Always told me to keep candles around the house just in case,” he says, shrugging. “I thought she was overreacting, but turns out she’s kind of a genius.”

You sit down a few feet away, gratefully accepting a candle he lights for you. The flame brightens up the dark hallway, leaving warm shadows on Mark’s face.

“So,” you start, leaning against the wall, “What do you normally do during blackouts? Just... sit around and wait?”

“Basically. Or… get this,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “People actually talk to each other. Crazy, right? You could, I don’t know, tell me something about yourself. Like… how many candles do you keep at home?”

“None,” you admit holding up your flashlight. “This is all I’ve got. I guess I’m doomed in a blackout. Your grandma would be so disappointed in me.”

“She would,” he agrees with a laugh. “But I’ll let it slide. Only because you’re new here.”

The conversation flows easily after that. You both begin trading random facts: Your favorite childhood snacks, his love for playing guitar, the time you accidentally dyed your hair orange trying to bleach it yourself. He counters with a tale of a botched bleach job that left him looking like a walking science experiment for months. 

Minutes turn into an hour, the candles continuing to burn as the two of you share quiet laughter and stories. And for the first time that night, the darkness doesn’t feel so bad.

—

A few days later, you’re hauling overstuffed grocery bags up the stairs when Mark pokes his head out of his apartment. His hair is tousled, and he’s wearing an oversized hoodie that practically swallows him whole.

“Oh, hey!” he calls, his face lighting up when he spots you. “Need help?”

“I got it, thanks!” you manage to say, despite your arms straining and the bag handles digging into your fingers.  

Before you can argue, Mark is already down the hall, grabbing it from you, and effortlessly carrying it to your door. “Looks like this thing was holding on for dear life,” he teases, hoisting it easily as he follows you to your door.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I was gonna knock on your door anyway,” he interrupts with a grin. “I baked something earlier and thought you might want to try it.”

That makes you pause mid-door unlock. “You bake?”

“Why does everyone react like that?” he says with mock offense. “Yes, I bake. Don’t look so shocked.”

“You don’t look like the baking type. Or cooking.”

“Oh, I can’t cook.” He scowls as if thinking about a bad memory, “But baking is pretty easy. It’s just throwing everything into one bowl, mixing it up, and waiting. Piece of cake. Or, in this case, cookies.”

A few minutes later, you’re both sitting on your tiny kitchen floor, a plate of freshly baked cookies between you. The smell of warm chocolate and butter fills the air.

“These are amazing,” you say after taking a bite, your voice muffled by the cookie in your mouth.

Mark beams, leaning back against the counter. “Not bad, right? I got the recipe off some YouTube channel. Figured I’d test it out before offering it to my friends.”

You squint your eyes, pretending to look offended. “Wait, so I’m just the guinea pig?”

He admits, laughing. “Pretty much. But hey, honest opinion: too sweet? Not sweet enough?”

“Perfect,” you reply, reaching out for another. “But you should’ve added nuts. Makes it more sophisticated. Just make sure you aren’t allergic.”

He gasps, clutching his chest. “Sophisticated? Wow. Didn’t know I was baking for royalty.”

You chuckle, playfully tossing a crumpled napkin at him, and the conversation once again flows effortlessly from there. You laugh over Mark’s failed attempts at “fancy” macarons, and somehow turn into stories about childhood food disasters.

By the time the plate is empty and an hour has vanished. With Mark, even the simplest moments feel like they belong in a movie.

—

Then it’s yet another lazy Sunday when the doorbell rings. You open the door to find Mark holding a massive box labeled 50-pack instant ramen.

“I think this is yours,” he says, biting back a laugh.

You glance at the label and groan. “Oh my God. I ordered five. Five!”

“Well, congrats,” he says, handing you the box. “Looks like you’re set for the next year.”

You sigh, dragging the box inside. A few minutes later, there’s another knock. Mark’s returned to your door, grinning this time.

“You know,” he starts, leaning against the doorframe, “if you need help finishing all that ramen, I’m just next door. We could, like, host a ‘ramen buffet.’ Charge admission or something.”

You snort. “Sure. I’ll make you the first VIP guest. Free ramen for life.”

“That’s the best offer I’ve ever gotten,” he says, eyes sparkling. “But seriously, I’ll take a few packs off your hands if it’s too much. My midnight snack stash could use a refill.”

Later, you text him a picture of your pantry. 

YOU: Your VIP pass is ready 

MARK: I’ll bring the chopsticks! 😂

The first time the dream comes, it’s vivid enough to remember even after you wake up. In the dream you’re walking through a bustling marketplace, the air thick with the scents and noise of those around you. People push past you, but you don’t feel overwhelmed by them. Instead, there’s a strange pull, like a thread tugging at your body. You turn your head and catch a glimpse of someone—a young man with a warm smile, eyes glinting in the sunlight, and a soft laugh that echoes through the din. 

You can’t see his face clearly, but his hand brushes yours as he passes. And in that moment, it leaves a spark. A warmth that feels almost familiar.

When you wake up, the details are already fading, but the feeling of that touch, that spark, seems to linger, and you can’t seem to get it out of your head.

A few days later, you're sitting with Mark in the hallway outside your apartments, the floor scattered with takeout boxes and empty soda cans. The two of you have somehow fallen into the habit of these late-night talks, sharing parts of your day and random thoughts that cross your mind in the moment.

“Have you ever had weird dreams?” you ask, swirling the straw in your drink.

Mark leans back against the wall, his hair slightly messy from running his hand through it too many times. “Weird how?”

“Like…” You pause, trying to find the right words. “Like they’re not just dreams. More like memories. But not yours.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Okay, now you’ve got me curious. Spill.”

You chuckle, feeling a little silly but continuing anyway. “I’ve been dreaming about this place—a market or something. It’s super crowded, and I’m just walking around. But then…” Your voice trails off as the memory becomes clearer in your mind. “There’s this guy. I don’t know him, but when I see him, it’s like I do. And when our hands brush…”

Mark’s expression shifts, his playful smile fading into something more serious. He sits up straighter. “Wait. You said a market?”

“Yeah.”

“And… hands brushing?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

Your stomach flips. “Yeah. Why?”

He hesitates, running a hand through his hair again. “Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but… I’ve had the exact same dream.”

For a moment, the world feels like it’s spinning. You blink at him, looking for any hint that he’s maybe joking, but his face is earnest, his brows furrowed like he’s trying to solve a mystery.

“No way,” you say, laughing nervously. “You’re messing with me.”

“I’m not!” Mark protests, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I swear. There’s a market, right? And I’m just walking, but then I see someone—you, I guess? And when our hands touch, it’s like—”

“—like a spark,” you finish for him, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mark stares at you, his eyes wide. “Exactly.”

The air between you grows silent, the laughter and casual banter from earlier replaced by something more ominous.

“Do you think it means something?” you ask after a long pause, your voice trying to stabilize itself.

Mark lets out a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “My grandma used to say that some people are connected through 인연—fate, you know? Like… maybe we knew each other before. In another life.”

You study his face, the soft curve of his jaw and the way his lips press together like he’s holding back more than he’s saying out loud. “Do you believe that?”

He turns to look at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know. But if it’s true…” He pauses, his gaze dropping to his hands, which rest in his lap. “Maybe it’s why I feel like I’ve known you forever, even though we just met.”

Your breath catches, his words affecting something deep inside you. The dreams, the strange familiarity, the unexplainable pull towards him, the way you could spend hours with each other, you’ve felt since the day you moved in. It’s all beginning to make a strange kind of sense. 

You don’t say anything, but your hand brushes his as you reach for your drink, and in that moment, the spark from your dream seems to jolt back to life.

Mark glances down, his fingers twitching as if he’s tempted to close the gap. Instead, he looks at you.“Maybe we’re just imagining things,” he says softly, but the hope in his voice betrays his words.

“Maybe,” you reply, though you’re not sure you believe it either.

For the rest of the night, neither of you mention the dreams again. But when you go to bed, the image of two hands brushing in a crowded marketplace still lingers in your mind, clearer than ever.

It’s a Friday evening, and you’re sitting on Mark’s couch, a blanket thrown over both of your laps. The faint smell of popcorn fills the air as a half-watched movie plays on the screen. Mark’s head is tilted back, his eyes weary from the long day, his fingers idly drumming to a beat on the couch cushion between you.

You glance at him, noting how cozy it seems here. It’s moments like these that feel strange… and effortless. Like you’ve done this a thousand times before.

“Hey,” you say, nudging his arm lightly. “You’re zoning out. The movie isn't that bad.”

Mark snorts, turning his head toward you. “Oh, yeah? Name one character besides the main guy.”

“Uh... The dog?”

“Exactly.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling in that way that makes your stomach flip.

But before you can laugh along, his phone buzzes on the coffee table, breaking the moment. Mark’s smile fades as he leans forward to grab it. You watch his face shift—something serious.

“Who is it?” you ask, your voice careful.

“It’s... uh, an email. From SM,” he says, mentioning the entertainment company where he’s been interning. He hesitates, scrolling through the message. “They want me to come in for a meeting. Apparently, there’s a potential opening on one of their teams in Vancouver.”

You sit up straighter. “Vancouver? Like... Canada?”

He nods, his thumb still hovering over his phone screen. “Yeah. They’ve got this big international project coming up, and I guess they think I’d be a good fit.”

You’re silent for a moment, the weight of his words setting in. “That’s... amazing, Mark. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” His tone is quiet, almost hesitant, and it doesn’t match the words. He sets his phone back down and leans back again, trying to avoid your gaze.

“So,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant even as your chest tightens, “you’re thinking of going?”

Mark runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’ve noticed over the months. “I don’t know yet. It’s a huge opportunity, but... I’d have to leave. Like, soon.”

“Right,” you say, your voice a little too steady. “It makes sense. You’ve been working toward something like this for a long time.”

He finally looks at you, his dark eyes searching. “Yeah, but... leaving means leaving everything. Everyone.”

You know what he’s implying, but neither of you says it out loud.

—

It’s the day of Mark’s big decision. Whether to take the overseas job offer or stay in Seoul. You’ve been avoiding the topic, scared of what it might mean for you. But tonight, the two of you find yourselves on the rooftop of your apartment building. The breeze carries the faint scent of flowers that Mark planted the other day in the community garden.

You sit side by side on the edge, legs dangling over the low wall. Although dangerous, Mark always promised that he’d catch you if you fell. He also wrapped a blanket around your shoulders. He’s always thoughtful like that.

For a while, neither of you says anything, just watching the sun slowly start to descend down the bustling city. 

Finally, Mark breaks the silence. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about 인연.”

You turn to look at him. His face is painted in soft, golden light. “Yeah? What about it?”

He chuckles softly, almost nervously, running a hand through his hair. “At first, I thought it was just a cool idea. Like, ‘Oh, that’s neat. Fate and past lives and stuff.’ But… I don’t know. Every time I’m with you, it feels like there’s something bigger happening. Like I’ve known you forever, and I don’t even know why.”

Your breath catches. Hearing him say it out loud makes it feel so much more real than you imagined in your head. “I feel it too. Like… we’ve been here before. Not just on this rooftop, but in some other life, in some other time.”

Mark finally turns to you, his eyes searching yours. “But what if we’re just making this up? What if we’re using fate as an excuse to… I don’t know, hold onto something that isn’t real?”

The vulnerability in his voice shakes you. He’s scared, just like you are. Scared of the intensity of it all, scared of what it means to let go. Or to keep holding on.

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“I don’t know if this is fate, Mark. I don’t know if some invisible thread tied us together, or if we’re just two people who got lucky enough to meet. But maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s not about why we found each other, but what we do with it now.”

Mark looks at you, his lips parting as if to speak, but he hesitates. You can tell he’s turning your words over in his mind, weighing them. “So… what do we do with it? What if I take the job? What if I leave? Does that mean we weren’t meant to be?”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” You reach for his hand, your fingers brushing before he laces them with yours. “You taking the job or staying doesn’t erase what we’ve shared. If this is fate, Mark, it’ll find a way to bring us back together. And if it’s not… then I’ll still be grateful for every moment we’ve had.”

“You make it sound so easy. Like letting go wouldn’t completely wreck me.” His grip tightens, and you see his throat bob as he swallows hard. 

You smile, but there’s a little sadness to your voice. “Who says letting go has to mean goodbye? Maybe it just means letting the story unfold the way it’s meant to.”

The silence that follows feels heavy but not uncomfortable. You can see the wheels turning in Mark’s mind. He’s thinking, unsure of what to say. 

Finally, he exhales a long, shaky breath. “I don’t know if I believe in fate, either. But I believe in you. And I believe in us.”

Your heart skips a beat, but he’s not done yet.

“So… if I stay, it won’t be because I’m afraid of losing whatever this is. It’ll be because I want to keep building it with you. And if I go… it’ll be because I know we’re strong enough to handle the distance.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you laugh softly, shaking your head. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?”

He grins, that familiar smile that’s become so dear to you.

“Not really. I’m just winging it.”

You both laugh, the warmth from your voices cutting through the bittersweetness of the moment. The future feels uncertain, but for the first time, that uncertainty doesn’t feel so scary.

As the last rays of sunlight fade, you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart. Whether it’s fate, luck, or sheer coincidence, you’re here now. And for now, that’s enough.

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania

[is-this-fascism]

if you ever see a video where someone offers a homeless person a job and they refuse to take the job, please understand it's not because they don't want help.

they just don't want whatever job is being offered.

last time i took a job offered by a rando who ascertained i was homeless, he tried to insist on giving me a ride (even though he knew i live in my own car). he also forbid me from smoking any cigarettes in his presence. he talked to me for about 5 minutes before saying 'well, i feel like i understand you now!' and putting me to work doing hard labor. i did my best, but after 4 hours of it my body was giving out because, obviously, i hadn't been spending my days hauling heavy logs recently. when i told him i wasn't sure i could keep going that day, he looked at me judgementally and begrudgingly paid me. i had made it clear i'd only have enough energy for part-time work.

now, he paid me for this, but there were several red flags that made me wary of working for him again. despite the fact he claimed he was helping me, he barely communicated with me beyond giving orders and telling me stories about how his pets died. he tried to make sure i didn't have my own vehicle on his property. he wanted to control my cigarette use. he bragged about his wealth coming from real estate.

i'm not sure even he realized these things were red flags, because in his mind, doing work for a boss is how homeless people get on their feet, and he was doing A Good Thing by giving me an opportunity to work.

this is just one example, but when i talk about 'savior complex' people, this is what i'm talking about. many homeless people have taken jobs offered to them before, and for one reason or another they decided it was not safe or advantageous to continue that job. if a homeless person rejects a job, there's always more to it than drugs and laziness.

[ryuuseini]

Tempted to change my tumblr name from mimoriru not bc i hate the name mimo (i love it actually) but bc i need to Distance myself from this One Friend again and he knows my tumblr

[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: About

[Art by: @tearosepedall]

[Jerk Ford Not a jerk to his brother and only his brother The most hated Ford in the Multiverse]

[Doesn't need as much protecting Teen Jerk Ford: F#ck off Teen Stan: Ford! Don't do that!]

[Stan is a well liked guy Stan never ended up homeless, because Ford believed him]

Ford was the worst type of student because he's really good at everything that he does, just like any other version of himself. Like, the teachers were mad he was their best (academically speaking) student.

They'd prefer it if he was a delinquent who never did his homework and showed up late to class. But no, he not only did all of his assignments, but he also did extra credit that he didn't need, and showed up early to everything. Just like all of the other Fords.

He was the Chess, Spelling Bee, and Debate Team champion all four years he was in high school. He could have skipped several grades and only didn't because ya know, twin. And this continued while he was in college and got his 12 PHDs.

Stanley was his only supporter in all of that because everyone wanted him to fail. Some people (like their parents) even tried to pressure Stan into also hating his brother but one of the Universal Constants is that you can't make Stan hate his brother. People didn’t even bring up the fact that Stanley wasn’t the genius twin, people called him the ‘good twin’ because he wasn’t a jerk.

Stanley is just a regular guy in this AU. He was never a criminal or con artist. He went to Backupsmore University with Stanford and Fiddleford (Fiddleford would sometimes use Stan to pass messages along to Ford, because he did not want to talk to Ford if he didn't have to). He's a Chemistry Teacher who also helps out with Theatre.

[Bill: You tricked me!!! Jerk Ford: Skill Issue]

[Jerk Ford, to all other AU Fords: Wait! You all actually fell for that triangles flattery?! LOL]

He knew Bill Cipher was just f***ing with him with all of that talk of "I'm a muse" and "You're more special than everybody" (he already knew that he doesn't need a triangle to validate that). Ford just wanted to flip the script on him in the end in the most elaborate 1980s version of Jackass you've ever seen.

All of the other Fords hate him so much not just because he's a jerk (that's the majority of the reason though), but because of how weirdly competent and self-actualized he is comparatively speaking.

He didn't fall for Bill tricks. He's so sure of himself that he doesn't have the same hero (or villain, depending on the AU) complex. He doesn't want to take over the universe, or be the savior of it, or even be the one who kills Bill Cipher. He's just a jerk to everybody (except Stan) because he likes being a jerk.

Jerk Ford is one of the few Fords who maxed out his Charisma. He just uses that charisma to make people hate him instead of like him

Because charisma isn't just 'likability', it's your Presence and Force of Personality. His presence is so strong all he has to do is walk into a room, and you know he's an a**hole.

If you were to sum up what Jerk Ford is like around other Fords, it's like this:

"Every Stanford Pines in the multiverse reviles and despises that man."

Jerk Ford: You all want to be me so bad.

"NO WE DON'T YOU A**HOLE"

[Mabel: He's not actually THAT big of a jerk right?" Dipper: *wants to strangle him* Jerk Ford: Stanley who are these twerps?]

[Stan: Oh! They are family poindexter, Shermies grandkids! Jerk Ford: I see *doesn't care*]

If I were to give Jerk Ford a unique design to set him apart from Fords of other AUs, his turtleneck and muddied boots are swapped with these:

The hoodie is the usual red colour, the font is probably the same gold colour as his zodiac symbol. The puffed croc boots are also probably the same colour as canon Fords.

He doesn't have any embarrassing tattoos because the tattoo artists of Gravity Falls would never service Ford. Because he's not just banned from every establishment in Gravity Falls, but if he enters any business you are legally allowed to and encouraged to shoot him.

In fact Bill gave up possessing Ford to ruin his reputation with the townsfolk early on because nothing he did was worse than anything Ford did by himself.

You know how Ford drew himself coming out of the portal with aura in Journal Three?

Most of the other Fords try to look cool, and you just have this dude over here who doesn't give a s*** because he already believed his own hype. He doesn't feel the need to be ✨Extra✨ unless if he's being mean or generally unpleasant to somebody.

[Previous]

[solaireverie]

aa23 | put it into speed drive

summary: [ lawyer!alex albon x f!driver!reader — social media au ] alex is contracted to help you get out of trouble after you land in hot water

faceclaim: florence pugh

warnings: language, dirty jokes

author’s note: hello party people!! so happy to bring you the first installment of in their shoes, my series with @lorarri about driver!reader. chaotic reader is the love of my life frfr

liked by landonorris, redbullracing, tatemcrae and 4,582,193 others

yourusername eat pasta drive fasta 🏎🍝

view comments

user mother is mothering 😩

user i live for y/n's photodumps

user everyone say thank you y/n for feeding us!!

redbullracing let her cook 😌

user the way y/n looks at the camera in slide 2 🫣

liked by christianhorner, sebastianvettel, redbullusa and 9,105,273 others

tagged: yourusername

redbullracing Oracle Red Bull Racing is aware of the charges being brought against driver Y/N L/N. Oracle Red Bull Racing respects all official decisions and will be assisting Y/N in any legal proceedings. We ask for privacy and discretion during this period of time.

comments on this post have been disabled

7,482 likes

y/nupdates y/n left the monaco police station this morning accompanied by her lawyer, alex albon. alex is also a family friend and was contracted by red bull to help y/n with any legal issues that may arise. y/n and alex left on motorcycle shortly after she was released. when asked about recent events, y/n stated that she isn't worried and that she's in good hands (implied to be alex's)

pictured above: y/n this morning, a photo captured by passerby of alex on his bike waiting for y/n, and a picture of alex found on his firm's website

view comments

user y/n's slaying everywhere 😍 even getting arrested isn't stopping her from serving with every outfit

↪ user omg fr i love her jacket and boots

↪ user we should have a y/n style account ngl

user damn her lawyer's hotttt 😳

↪ user yeah exactly!!! so glad someone else sees my ✨ vision ✨

user lol i can already see this dude getting a migraine within the first two hours of dealing with y/n

↪ user she's a menace and while i love her for that i pity her lawyer 😂

↪ user our thoughts and prayers for mr albon 🕯🕯🕯

628,192 likes

effwontea ok so who was going to tell me that y/n's lawyer is hot, cute, AND good with animals - admin g 👾

what crimes do i need to commit to hire alex to defend me 😳 - admin t 💃

view comments

user idk if anyone's noticed but he's actually in a few of her older vlogs 👀 guess they've been friends for a while

↪ user and she hasn't showed us him until now???

↪ user i went back to watch the videos with alex in them and omg they're so cute togetherrrrrr

↪ user ikr!!! did you see that part where she drives them around monaco and he's literally scared for his life but also staring at y/n with heart eyes 😍

↪ user guess this isn't the first time that y/n has terrorized alex with her driving skills then 😂

user is it just me or are they really freaking adorable together

↪ user omg fr!! he balances out her chaos and she makes him laugh so much ❤️ my heart can't take this

liked by landonorris, alex_albon, georgerussell63 and 28,492,123 others

tagged: alex_albon

yourusername everyone say thank you to alex_albon's savior complex 😌 love u 🫶

view comments

user did she just... hard launch???

↪ user i think???????

↪ user knowing y/n she kept him a secret just for the chaos 😂

georgerussell63 about time, mate!

↪ landonorris thanks a lot for making me lose my bet with george 🙄

↪ alex_albon what were you two even betting on?

↪ yourusername when i would get arrested and you'd have to defend me in court 😜 btw georgerussell63 i expect dinner from whatever lando needs to give you

alex_albon love you too (even if you exhaust me sometimes 🙃)

↪ yourusername don't lie, you like it 😘

user so now on top of dealing with y/n in court he has to deal with her every day 😭 thoughts and prayers dude

↪ yourusername i promised to behave in public if he lets me misbehave in private 😉

↪ alex_albon you call that behaving???

↪ landonorris ewww get a room

↪ yourusername get a win 🤷‍♀️

↪ georgerussell63 MIC. DROP.

↪ landonorris alex_albon can i hire you to sue y/n and george for emotional damage

↪ alex_albon i'm afraid that you're on your own 😔 i have no intention of stepping into a courtroom with y/n ever again

↪ yourusername guess who's sleeping on the couch tonight!

↪ alex_albon lando because he insists that we've adopted him?

↪ yourusername correct ✅

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

series masterlist | masterlist | lola's masterlist

taglist: @scenesofobx @vellicora @boiohboii @julesbabey @flannelforthetoads

[joelscurls]

give in to temptation

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

words: 5.5k

summary: you're in a relationship now — a good, healthy relationship — that doesn't stop you from texting your ex Javi late at night.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, post Narcos s3, porn with plot, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit smut, sexting, infidelity (I do not condone cheating, but unfortunately it's hot when it's with Javi), reference to masturbation (f), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, use of pet names (cariño, querida, baby, etc.); lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: hi! enjoy 5kish words of dubious morals bc I couldn't get this idea out of my head :)

Humidity clings to the walls, bedsheets strewn across your legs damp with sweat. You kick at them aimlessly, and the cotton grips tighter to slick skin.

In the curve of your palm rests your phone, ringer switched off and brightness turned all the way down — the last thing you want is to wake your boyfriend, dozing next to you as you text another man.

Your fingers are clammy where they wrap around metal, sweat pooling in the divots between your knuckles. 

This is wrong; you know it’s wrong, just like every time preceding this one. But the guilt does nothing to slow the adrenaline racing through your veins. If anything, it makes your heart thump harder.

That, and the words pixelated on the tiny screen of your flip-phone.

Javi [2:03am]:  I’ve been thinking about you all day, cariño. Got me so hard.

You’d met Javier Peña just over a year ago. 

A young woman alone at the bar, you’d drawn him in like a moth to a flame. He had dark brooding eyes and a savior complex that’d been made more apparent with each story he’d shared about his time as a DEA attaché in Colombia, from which he’d recently returned.

Do you miss it? you’d asked, nursing a martini.

Like hell, he’d said. But I have nothing left to give.

I don’t know if I believe you, you’d countered with a wink.

Not an hour later, you’d found yourself in his living room, dress hiked up to your waist as he devoured you. 

Sex with Javi was easy, mindless. For a while, his body served as a refuge for you after shitty days at work and arguments with your overbearing mother. A lone beacon in the fog, he was always more than willing to help you forget the stressors in your life. And your own name.

It was passionate, and filthy, and sticky — left your legs trembling and your head dizzy — each and every time. 

With him, you didn’t have to talk. Didn’t have to think. It was just sex, with no strings and no labels. Your relationship, if you could call it that, was perpetuated by the transcendent pleasure you felt in the spaces between words, when your mouths were preoccupied.

But when your birthday came and went and you found yourself another year older, an aching feeling settled in your gut — a feeling that time had begun to pass more quickly than it used to. And on its heels came the desire for something more, something you knew Javi was not willing to provide: a relationship.

The decision to end things was mutual, amicable. It was the easiest “breakup” you’d ever gone through. Maybe because it wasn’t a “breakup” at all.

A few weeks later, you’d met Nathan, a law student with a polite disposition and an eagerness to settle down. He’d treated you well, the type to open doors for you and ask about your day. On all fronts, he was a good man — a little boring, but good.

After a month, you made it official. After two, he moved into your place.

And you stopped thinking about Javi, about the way his large hand had fit perfectly around your throat, the way he’d been able to coax you to orgasm in two different languages. No, you only thought about the man in front of you, the one with the steadily growing collection of argyle ties and the unstamped passport.

Sex with Nathan was admittedly different. He didn’t make you cum as quickly or as easily; your body didn’t crave his with the same amount of fervor it had Javier’s. But it was loving, sweet, what any woman would want…should want.

And it was normal that you thought about your ex sometimes when your current partner laid his weight on top of you, that you imagined a different mouth slotted against your neck or on your tits. Because certainly, everyone did that every once in a while. It was harmless.

As long as you never uttered his name out loud, he’d remain only in your head, lost to time to exist there forevermore.

But then came the day in the grocery store, on your date to the cereal aisle to restock Nathan’s favorite, bran flakes. He’d materialized like a ghost of good sex’s past.

You didn’t dare speak to him, didn’t trust yourself to. Under the bright fluorescent lights, you’d felt your palms begin to sweat, your throat constrict, eyes glued to the selection of boxes in front of you. But while Nathan debated between store brand and name brand, you’d snuck another cautious glance at him.

Javi’s expression was unreadable. He’d looked between you and Nathan as if he were trying to solve a rubix cube. One he was becoming increasingly frustrated by. He’d gripped the handle of his shopping cart so tightly, the skin on his knuckles appeared near translucent.

And then he’d disappeared, tiny wheels on the carriage screeching, noise barely audible over your pulse.

The first text came later that night.

Are you seeing someone? it’d read.

Yes, you’d replied. But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk. 

You’d quickly established ground rules: messages would only be exchanged after midnight, never two nights in a row, no calls, and — most importantly — Nathan would never find out.

Okay, Javi had said. Just one more rule: don’t use his name with me.

To your right, Nathan snores, the singular catch of an inhale in his throat, and the noise jolts you, face heating as if you’ve been caught.

Then he shifts, turns on his side, away from you. You feel a strange wash of relief. A semblance of privacy that you shouldn’t be after.

You respond to Javier with your tongue between your teeth.

You [2:04am]: thinking about me doing what?

Javi [2:06am]: Riding me. Your tits in my face. My hands on your ass.

 Your breath catches, attention abruptly pulled to the incessant throbbing between your legs.

You definitely shouldn’t sneak to the bathroom and touch yourself. Shouldn’t send Javi a grainy photo of your fingers in your panties. Shouldn’t make yourself cum with your ex-lover’s name on your lips.

Not for the third time this week.

But when your cunt inadvertently clenches around nothing, your judgment is suddenly clouded.

With one last glance at the sleeping form beside you, you clamber to your feet and tiptoe down the hallway, wetness dripping down your thighs as you go.

The bathroom door closes with a quiet click. You fumble for the lightswitch, eyes reflexively squeezing shut when the room brightens. 

You hover over the sink, steadying yourself against porcelain with one hand while you type furiously with the other.

You [2:10am]: yeah? you wanna suck on my tits?

The mirror parallel you reflects something out of a thriller, your pupils fully dilated and your forehead glistening with sweat. You almost don’t recognize the woman staring back at you in all her depravity.

You slump to the floor. Rest with your back to the side of the tub. 

Javi [2:11am]: Dying to. Always felt so fucking perfect in my mouth.

Desperate fingers slip under the hem of your shorts, into your panties. The phone balances precariously in your other hand, thumb stumbling over buttons on the keypad.

You [2:12am]: I miss your cock.

Javi [2:13am]: That’s right, querida. Best you ever had, huh?

You [2:13am]: Yes. Always made me feel so fucking good. 

Javi [2:15am]: Fuck. Are you touching yourself?

You swirl two digits at your entrance, amply coating them in your slick before dragging them up to your swollen clit. You can’t stifle the moan that slips past your lips.

You [2:16am]: yes

Javi [2:16am]: good girl

The phone distractedly tumbles from your grasp, clinking against tile as you begin to work yourself toward the brink.

And then — there’s a knock on the bathroom door.

The room spins, walls suddenly shrinking in on you as you wrench your hand out of your panties. Nathan’s voice on the other side is muffled, by the exhaust fan and by the ringing in your ears. But you can just decipher his words, his voice laden with sleep.

“Babe? Are you okay? I thought I heard-“

“Fine, I’m uh, I’m fine,” you say, scrambling to your feet, wiping wet fingers on your shorts.

The doorknob jostles, and it dawns on you then that you’d forgotten to fucking lock it.

 “No! Don’t come in,” you sputter. The door hitches, less than an inch cracked. “I just had a stomach ache, but I’m okay now. I’ll be back in bed in a minute.”

“Oh.” He yawns. Pulls it shut again. “Okay.”

You brace yourself against the sink, struggling to slow your racing heart. 

With a flush of the empty toilet, Nathan’s footsteps recede down the hall and out of earshot. You wash your hands, then, fingers shaking under the stream of lukewarm water.

You dry them hastily, not bothering to pick up the towel when it slides off the rail and onto the floor.

You [2:21am]: gotta go. sorry. 

Javi [2:22am]: ???

Nathan is far too kind the following morning. He sets a plate of buttered toast and a mug of peppermint tea out for you on the kitchen table, and presses a nauseatingly gentle kiss to your forehead as you eat.

His amber eyes scan you like he’s searching for any indicators that you’re still hurting, fingers anxiously carding through his sandy hair.

You’re sure he’s clocked the dark circles marking your undereyes — not that he knows the real reason for them.

“I’m fine,” you promise when you feel him staring.

“Are you sure?” he probes. “The noise you made was…intense; you sounded really pained.”

Pained? Not exactly.

“I know.” You stuff the last bite of toast into your mouth. Tilt the empty plate toward him.

“But I’m okay; see? Even have an appetite this morning. It was just a weird bug or something.”

The lie burns on the way out, scalds your throat. But Nathan buys it. Doesn’t ask any further questions.

Still, he tells you to take it easy today on his way out the door.

You can’t look him in the eye when you insist that you will.

You call out of work, too sick with self-loathing to show your face in the office. Instead, you mope around all day, attempt to distract yourself with the overflowing hamper of laundry in the closet.

It’s futile though, your brain paralyzed by thoughts of Nathan finding out about the affair, and the clothes remain unwashed.

He returns that evening with a plastic bag in his clutch, the local pharmacy’s logo printed on the front.

“Here,” he says, pulling out a brand new heating pad. “I realized last night that we didn’t have one of these laying around.”

You know, at that moment, that you need to end things with Javi.

Nathan is good to you. He loves you with actions, not just words. Thinks of you before he thinks of himself, in every situation. And you — you’re cheating on him. Taking advantage of him. Not even trying to be what he deserves.

You’ll try harder. To love him, to think of him. No longer will you give in to brainless, animalistic needs. Surely, you can mimic the passion you have with someone else if you just try. 

Try, try, try. You can do it.

Sleep evades you that night, coming in brief stints and leaving you breathless when you wake. 

In those conscious moments, the analog clock in the corner of the room taunts you, glaring red neon making your head pound.

After three straight hours of tossing and turning, you decide it can’t wait any longer.

You fish your cellphone off the nightstand. Snap it open.

You [3:23am]: We need to end this before things get ugly.

You’re sure he won’t be awake this late; not without reason. But then — the screen blinks.

Javi [3:24am]: Nothing’s going to get ugly. Please, cariño. 

You [3:24am]: I almost got caught last night. I don’t want to hurt him.

Javi [3:25am]: Can we talk about this? Javi [3:25am]: In person?

Your heart palpitates. For a moment, you swear it stops altogether.

You [3:26am]: What the hell? No Javi, I can’t.

Javi [3:27am]: C’mon. Just talk. Don’t you think you owe me that?

Your eyes flit to Nathan. 

You watch him for a long moment: the steady rise and fall of his chest, the slouch of his shoulders, the gape of his mouth.

He’s well and truly asleep. You’re sure you could sneak away without him waking. Slip out the door and get a cab to Javier’s, talk things through, and be back in bed before the sun rises — before Nathan even knows you’ve left. 

And then everything will be just as it was before you messed this up. You can leave Javi in the past, where he belongs. 

Of course, you’re not just going to talk. Deep in your bones, you know that. Know that when he’s there in front of you, you’ll be too weak to resist any of his advances.

Still, you play coy. Ignore the spring of excitement tightening in your abdomen. 

In a move of finality, one which you know you won’t be able to come back from, you stand. Make your way into your closet to pull some pants and a t-shirt on, your cell phone clutched in your hand. 

You [3:30am]: Fine.

Javier sends you his address — as if you’d have forgotten it. As if the name of his apartment complex isn’t permanently etched behind your eyelids, along with the wide slope of his shoulders and the plush of his bottom lip.

When the cab pulls up to the curb, the driver is visibly concerned. His bushy, gray brows thread together and his narrowed eyes catch yours in the rearview more than once on the drive across town.

It’s only when you reach Javi’s building and hand over your fare that the man speaks.

“Are you alright, sweetheart? Quite late for you to be out on your own.” 

His voice crackles, the smell of cigarette smoke heavy on his breath, and it’s strangely comforting. 

“Yeah,” you promise as you push the door open and step out.

He rolls his window down, anxiously watching as you maneuver your way to the front door. And then he’s driving off, headlights vanishing into the thick night.

Javier lets you up on the first buzz. He’s waiting for you in the entryway of his apartment, leaning with a large hand pressed to the doorframe.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him: shirtless, bronze skin cast in the dim yellow light of the corridor. 

His eyes rake over you the moment you’re in front of him, lingering when they catch on your collarbone, your breasts, your legs. He looks so imposing like this. You find yourself unable to move; frozen under his silent, lustful gaze.

“Are you — can I come in?” you ask meekly.

He nods then, a slow lift of his chin. Steps backward into darkness. You will yourself to take one step, and then another, following him over the threshold and past the point of no return.

It feels so odd to be here, in his space, with the intention of doing anything other than fucking. If you look close enough, you swear you can make out the shape of your body imprinted in the couch cushions, can hear lingering echoes of climaxes reached with your face shoved into one of his decorative pillows — can feel them, too.

Arousal pulls between your thighs. You ignore it.

You wonder how many other women have been here since you, have taken Javi in their hands or their mouths or their cunts. How many names that aren’t yours has he chanted in the throes of passion? 

And — moreover — why do you care?

You don’t. You definitely don’t.

Javi pours you a glass of wine, fills a crystal with whiskey for himself. He flicks a lamp on, casting the room in an orange glow, and settles into the couch You follow his lead, perching yourself on one of the arm rests apprehensively.

“So,” you start. “About what we’ve been…doing-“

He cuts you off with a quirk of his brow, a flinch of his jaw. 

“Javi,” you try again. “This has to — we can’t-”

“You’re sure you want to break it off, cariño?” His voice comes out low, dark.

And the thing is — you’re not sure. You wish you were, wish you had the strength to tell him definitively that it’s over, to go home to your boyfriend and block Javi’s number on the way out. 

But the flex of his bicep when he hooks his arm behind his head, the knowing smirk playing on his lips, his cock — which you can’t see, but know is long and thick under his jeans — it all makes your head feel heavy. 

You let the weight of it drop between your shoulders, hang there as you silently search for just a particle of sanity left in your being. You come up empty. 

“Fuck,” you hiss, claw your fingers into your scalp. “This is — fuck.”

Leather groans under Javi’s weight. He stands. Steps in front of you.

You don’t dare look at him, not until he pinches your chin between two fingers and forces your gaze to meet his. His eyes are charcoal-black, something devious swimming behind blown pupils.

“Baby,” he croons. “Why did you really come here?” 

You play dumb. “What do you mean? To — to talk.”

His thumb skates along the underside of your jaw, soft and placating.

“We’re not really gonna talk — are we?”

Your head spins, mind clouded by Javier’s words, his touch. You sense yourself losing resolve just as he pulls you upright by both hands. 

You’re so close like this; can taste the whiskey on his breath, can feel the warmth of his exhale against your skin.

His mouth moves to the shell of your ear, voice a mere whisper when he speaks again.

“Wanna know what I think, querida?” he asks, palm flattening at your lower back, pushing you flush against him. “I think you came here because texting wasn’t enough anymore, huh? Think you missed me.”

And the truth is, you have missed him — painfully so. You’ve missed the timbre of his voice, the caress of his hands, the stretch of his cock. All just in reach, tangible for the first time in so long.

Your need for him borders on carnal. The feeling snakes its way up from your stomach into the cavern of your ribcage, splays its weight across your delicate, pounding heart. 

And then the rational part of your brain whirs weakly to life.

What are you doing?

“I have a boyfriend,” you say. You’re not sure who you’re reminding. 

“Mhm,” Javi mutters, deft fingers peeling the fabric of your t-shirt up, up, up your body. You don’t stop him.

“And does your boyfriend —“ he kneels down, presses a kiss where exposed skin meets denim — “make you feel as good as I do, cariño?”

You can’t answer that. It wouldn’t be right. Because any of this is.

“Javi — I,” you try, cut off abruptly by dull teeth in the flesh of your waist. You yelp, the sweet sting quickly dissipating as he pauses. Pulls back. 

“You can say it,” he goads with a wicked smirk. “I won’t tell him.”

“He — no,” the words leave you before you even feel them in your mouth, and then you’re cursing yourself. You can’t take it back — it’s too late. Javi knows, you know. The only one still in the dark is Nathan. 

Javier says your name. His tone is different, soberingly serious. 

“Tell me to stop.” 

Fuck. 

“Tell me to stop,” he repeats, “and I’ll stop.”

“I can’t,” you whisper, so quiet you barely hear yourself. 

“Cariño-”

“I can’t,” you stammer, louder. “I — fuck, Javi. Please.”

“Please?”

He knows what you’re asking for; he just needs to hear you say it.

“Please fuck me.”

In an instant, he’s standing back up, grasping at your sides and impatiently guiding you onto the couch. He brackets you against the cushions, one hand splayed next to your head on the backrest, the other popping the button of your jeans open. 

You lift your ass as he tugs them down your legs, pulls them past your ankles and leaves them in a heap on the floor. And then he’s moving down your body, kneeling at your altar and prying you open for him.

You surrender to him willingly, desperation growing when he pulls your panties aside and gazes at your glistening sex, transfixed by you.

“This gorgeous pussy,” he hums, leaning down to taste you.

“Yeah?” you breathe. “You miss it?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he groans. Dips his tongue into the apex of your heat, refamiliarizing himself with your nectar before licking a languid stripe up to your throbbing clit.

You writhe under him, beg with wordless whines and whimpers for more. He knows your sounds, knows their tells, soothes you with a gentle shh against your cunt. 

His lips wrap around your clit, then, envelope it completely as he starts to suckle, and the sudden sensation makes you buck your hips.

“Javi — fuck, oh — holy-” 

He retreats, mouth shiny with your arousal. “What is it, baby? Your boyfriend doesn’t eat your pussy like this?”

“He doesn’t,” you admit breathlessly. Javi clicks his tongue. Faux-pouts at you. 

His lips reattach to your clit and you curse.

“Fuck, Javi, he — he’s never-“

The half-admission stops him in his tracks. He stares back up at you with narrowed eyes.

“Cariño, don’t tell me he doesn’t go down on you?”

Your face heats. “He — he says he doesn’t like to do it.”

Suddenly, Javi looks livid.

His fingernails dig into the meat of your inner thighs mindlessly. You watch his lip twitch and his eyes roll to the ceiling.

He’s unaffected by much these days — but Javi clearly doesn’t take kindly to a man not pleasuring his woman. Especially when you are the woman in question.

“Pendejo,” he murmurs. 

“Javi,” you whine. “Please.”

Your pleading voice seems to snap him out of it. Or at least remind him of the task at hand.

He returns his attention to your dripping pussy with one final huff. “Gonna take care of you baby, don’t worry.”

You anchor yourself with fingers of one hand twisted in the dark, sweaty curls at the crown of his head. Two digits on the other pinch at one of your hardened nipples, just as Javier begins to swipe his tongue back and forth over your clit.

“Fuck,” you sigh, draping your trembling legs over his shoulders. 

He licks your cunt like he fears you’re going to melt, lathes over your clit again and again with the wide flat of his tongue. The wet squelch of him slurping at you, eager to catch every last drop of your arousal, bounces off the walls obscenely.

You hope, fleetingly, that his neighbors are heavy sleepers. Better yet, that they’re out of town.

Maybe he’s putting in extra effort because he knows now that your boyfriend isn’t doing this for you at home. Or maybe he’s just better at it than you remember. Regardless, you find yourself completely overcome with ecstasy, close to falling apart on Javi’s tongue in a matter of minutes.

As soon as he curls two fingers into your cunt, you’re gone, cumming so hard your vision pulls and your thighs shake.

You sing Javi’s name like a hymn. It rolls off your tongue effortlessly, naturally. Like it’s made for you to recite.

He lets you come down, soothes you with gentle hands stroking along your thighs, soft lips pressed to your sensitive mound. 

When your breathing evens, he lifts off of his haunches, motions for you to lay flat on the couch with your neck supported by the armrest. And then he shucks his pants off, his cock immediately springing up to his stomach, a trail of precum dripping down his navel.

You’d forgotten how gorgeous it was — the heady, pink tip shiny with arousal, veins running along the underside of the thick base prominent. It twitches in interest as Javier leans down to kiss you, prods against your slick inner thigh when his tongue presses into yours.

You hook your legs around his back, desperately attempting to pull him closer, attempting to drag him into your achingly empty cunt.

He grins against your lips, hand moving between your bodies to guide himself to your entrance.

“Impaciente,” he mumbles.

You whine, nails digging into his shoulders. “Please Javi, need it.”

“Yeah?” He pauses with his cockhead right at your seam. “How bad?”

“Fuck — so bad, need it so bad.” Your nails burrow deeper into flesh. He hisses.

“God damn, querida; that much, huh?”

“Yes, Javi,” you groan. “Please just-”

He bottoms out in one deep thrust, effectively knocking the air out of your lungs. You moan in unison, his head falling against your shoulder as he slowly begins to move. 

Your cunt sucks him in greedily, clenching around him over and over again. It’s intoxicating, the feeling of his cock nudging your g-spot with every roll of his hips. You wonder how you went so long without this. Fear you won’t be able to again.

He pulls all the way out and snaps into you before setting a new, brutal pace, one that leaves you babbling underneath him. 

The room grows palpably warmer, white heat licking at your neck, your chest, your back — where it sticks to leather. You find yourself lost in the way your bodies move together; a dance you’ve done so many times before; one you’d perfected all those months ago. 

“Shit,” Javi slurs. “Take me so well, cariño. Like you’re — ahh — made for me.”

I am, you want to say. 

“Fuck,” you moan instead, “so good, baby. Feels so fucking good.”

And it does. You’re going to snap soon, going to cum for a second time, soak his cock.

You tighten around him, a silent warning. He slips out and you whine at the loss. But then he’s hiking your legs over his shoulders, spreading you wider for him and delving back in at a new angle that makes you scream.

You can feel it building now, like a snowball in your abdomen. You can’t fight it, can barely warn Javi, his name spilling brokenly from your throat as your orgasm crests.

He talks you through it with praises whispered in your ear. So beautiful, princesa — that’s it. So pretty when you fall apart on my cock. There you go; let it all out, baby.

Fucked-out and boneless, you beg for Javi to please cum inside.

He growls, low and primal, gripping tightly to the flesh of your waist as his thrusts begin to falter. “That what you want, querida? Want to — shit — want to go back to your boyfriend with me dripping out of you?”

“Yes,” you chant thoughtlessly, yes, yes, yes. 

“Dirty. Fucking. Girl.” he grits, each word punctuated by a jerk of his hips. 

He spills inside you with his teeth in the crook of your neck. There’s so much of it, filling your cunt, leaking out around his cock and onto leather. It sates you in a way you didn’t know possible, as if your womb needs to be claimed by him and only him. Nobody else will do.

You almost resent the feeling of your eyesight returning and your breaths steadying. You don’t want to come down — not if it means you need to go home.

But the sky outside is turning purple, bruising with the threat of a new day on the horizon, and you know your time together is nearly up.

“Javi,” you mutter, his chest still heaving against yours, cock softening inside you.

“Up.”

He shifts, pulls out in a devastating loss, and retreats to the opposite side of the couch.

You begin to knead the muscles in your aching calves, Javi fumbling with the pack of cigarettes on the side table next to him. He takes one out and lights it, the end glowing faintly.

“What do we do?” you ask. He rubs at the crease in his forehead, definitely set there by years of chasing after drug cartels. Maybe also by running away from meaningful conversation with you.

“You can’t go back to him,” he mumbles.

You scoff. “I can’t? I have to Javi, Nathan is my-“

“Don’t say his name,” he snaps, abruptly ashing his cigarette and turning to face you. He looks wrecked, his eyes wide and his lips downturned. 

“What do you want from me, Javi?” you bite, pulling your panties back into place and reaching for your jeans where they lay on the floor. “You want me to be at your beck and call forever? Cheat on him until one of us dies?”

“I —“ Javi sighs. “No.”

“Then what?” You pull your pants on: one leg, then the other. Pull your shirt back down to cover your breasts. 

“I — want you.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva.

“What?”

“All of you,” he clarifies. “When I saw you with him for the first time in that grocery store — my heart sank. I didn’t — didn't realize how serious my feelings were for you. Fuck, I shouldn’t have let you end things that day.”

He stands. Braces pleading hands on your shoulders. 

“I know I’m an asshole,” he continues. “I thought I could never be someone’s partner. That I wouldn’t…wouldn’t be good. How could I be when I’ve done so much bad in my life?”

You sink into his touch. His words.

“Javi-“

“No, cariño — I need you to hear this. I want to be good for you, know I can be. I’ll do anything. I just — I can’t let you get away again.”

You feel as if you’ve just been struck by an arrow. Or, more accurately, a train. Your bones hurt and your insides twist.

You’re silent for a long moment, watching as his eyes desperately search yours. You know you need to say something eventually, put him out of his misery, but you’re too afraid to find out what happens next.

The undeniable fact that you want to be with him too is almost too much to bear. You’ll have to break it off with Nathan, split his heart in half. He doesn’t deserve it, you think, over and over.

But then, maybe you don’t deserve to remain unhappy. Unfulfilled.

Maybe you need to hurt him once in order to stop repeatedly hurting yourself.

“You’re good, Javier,” you say then. “You’re a good man. You deserve good.”

“Yeah?” his voice cracks. Tears prick in the corners of his eyes. He retracts them with a deep breath in.

You grab the sides of his face. “Yes. And I — I want you too.”

Javier kisses you, so deep you think your lips might bruise. There’s finality in it — you’re his and he’s yours — and no longer will you pretend that’s not the case.

He drives you back to your place, unwilling to let his girl get in another cab alone before daylight.

Laredo looks beautiful at dawn, all dozing buildings and empty roads. You pass by your workplace and groan at the realization that you’ll have to be back there in a few hours; you can’t call out again. A stack of unfiled reports will surely be waiting for you atop your desk.

That dread doesn’t last long, though, not when you look to the man in the driver’s seat, the one who makes your mouth water and your heart skip.

When he catches your gaze, corner of his mouth turning up at you mischievously, you know for certain that everything will work out just fine.

Javi turns onto your street slowly, moreso than he needs to, a possessive hand gripping your thigh.

“Will you let me know how it goes?” he asks when the car pulls up to the curb.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I mean, I think it’s safe to say it won’t go well, but-“

“I know. But if he gives you any more trouble than he needs to, you call me.”

Your eyes flit up to your bedroom window, blinds drawn up and curtains pulled aside. The room is still dark, Nathan no doubt still asleep.

You’ll go up in a second.  After you kiss Javier one more time.

He seems taken aback when your lips catch his, maybe because it’s crazy to do this here, now. But you can’t help it. Can’t keep your hands — or your mouth — off of him now that you have him.

He relaxes into it after just a second, licking into your mouth to deepen the kiss, his hand moving from your thigh to the back of your head to hold you against him.

And then — he abruptly pulls away.

“Shit,” he curses, staring wide-eyed at the window.

You follow his eyeline, freezing when you see what he sees: Nathan, tall and shadowy, looking straight at you.

“Well,” Javi laughs nervously, “I think he knows.”

end notes: ty so much for reading! pls consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment if you enjoyed :)

tag list: @janaispunk @kajashe @amanitacowboy @planet-marz1 @littlegrungegirlaf @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @wethairjoel @catchallfangirl @pamasaur

[somanyratsinthewalls]

congrats on 900 followers! id like to request for a mixture of prompt 9 and 19 with maroon (mihawk) — not particularly smut but a bit of fluff included in it, have a good day or night!

-anon 🪐

Coincidence (+18)

THANK YOU ANON FOR REQUESTING! (Sorry I made it smut but theres plenty of angst cuteness too)

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x Female Pirate!Reader

Prompts: “It’s fine. We’re all adults. We can sleep in the same bed.” And “Getting you naked was only part of the plan.” 

WC: 2900

TWs: pet names, p in v sex, fingering, dirty talk, savior complex, previous alcohol mention, same bed! Swearing, kissing, idk? This is literally porn. 

— — 

“Good morning, little rabbit.” A low voice swims in your head. 

Your eyelids flutter open. Everything is blurry. You’re laying in sand. Rain is pouring and you’re chilled to the bone. 

*BOOM*

A clap of thunder snaps you fully awake and you start to cough up sea water. You heave yourself on your hands and knees to better expel the water from your stomach and lungs. 

“I was sure you’d never wake up.” The voice came from above you, clearer now. 

Once you caught your breath, you realized there was a pair of black boots in front of you in the wet sand. You crane your neck upwards to be met with the smug smirk of Dracule Mihawk, towering over you in the storm. 

“H-how? Y-you? W-what?” You croak out, body starting to shiver violently. 

“Now do you really want me to answer those questions right now, or would you like to come to my room at the inn down the road before The Great Pirate Y/n succumbs to hypothermia? An awful pitiful way to go out for a pirate captain, if you ask me.” He extends a hand to help you stand. 

You roll your eyes and push yourself to your feet on your own. 

Mihawk chuckles and lets his arm fall back to his side. 

“Allow me.” Mihawk gestures to offer for you to follow him and heads to the cobblestone road from the beach. You hated the idea of seeking aide at the hands of another pirate, let alone one as dangerous as him… but the chill in your body and the ache in your chest were forcing your hand. 

You follow him into town. 

— — 

After trying to keep up for several blocks, eventually Mihawk ducks into a nondescript establishment and holds the door open for you to follow. You step forward to move past him to enter the inn. 

The first floor was dimly lit with oil lanterns and smelled of rich red wine and a wood burning stove. There were only a few patrons seated around the bar, none of which turned to look at you as the door was opened. The doorway was narrow so you had to turn your body to enter as Mihawk was still holding the door for you. As you brush past his chest he leans in to your ear and whispers. 

“Stairs on the right. End of the hall. Be quick about it, before you drip all over the poor barkeeps floor.” His voice was low and teasing. 

A deep shiver ran down your spine. No doubt due to the cold, wet clothing you were wearing, of course. 

You nimbly flit up the stairs, sure that the former warlord was following closely behind as you could hear the clacking of his boots on the wooden steps. Mihawk catches up to you as you reach the door at the end of the hall. Without a word he uses a key to unlock the door and pushes it open for you. 

You step inside and are immediately met with the glow of firelight and the smell of cologne. Seeing the blazing fire in the fireplace, you rush to throw yourself to your knees on the bearskin rug laid out in front of the fire. 

You put your hands over the flames and you start to be able to feel your fingers again. You sigh in relief. After a few moments of enjoying the fire, you remember that you aren’t alone. Mihawk was standing against the wall, just watching you… arms crossed and feathered hat cocked to one side. The firelight glinted like topaz off his deep golden eyes as you met his gaze. 

“How did you find me?” You manage to rasp out, finding your full voice again. 

“A little birdie told me you were on your way to make an arms deal with smugglers somewhere in the area. I knew you’d come alone and your foolhardiness would ignore the incoming storm. Figured you’d wash up on the shore sometime.” 

“A little bird? Or a little clown?” You quip back and rub your hands together over the blaze. “Stop talking like you know anything about me.” 

“Was I wrong?” Mihawk is quick to retort. “The Cross Guild has eyes and ears everywhere. I am privy to endless amounts of whereabouts and information on the Grand Line.” 

“And yet…” You stand. “With all that information at your disposal, you choose to end up here. Pursuing me.” You cock your head in inquiry. 

The corners of Mihawk’s mouth twitch upwards briefly before returning to his stoic expression. 

“You may wear my dressing gown for the night. You’ll catch your death if you spend another moment in those soaked rags.” The man says and nods towards the ensuite lavatory. 

You take a moment to weigh your options… you hated to admit, but Mihawk was right. You needed to fully dry off before you caught pneumonia or worse. You push past him without saying a word into the bathroom and close the door behind you. As you close the door you see a floor length robe made of exquisite purple silk… this must be the dressing gown he was referring to. You stripped yourself of your sea-water soaked clothing and laid them on the side of the clawfoot tub to dry. 

You looked in the mirror and were horrified. Your hair was tangled and your skin was littered with abrasions and decorated with sand and small wood debris from the wreckage. 

You sigh. 

You grab the washcloth from the side of the sink and turn on the knobs. Once the water was warm you soaked the cloth in the water and gently cleaned your face and body. The soothing temperature of the washcloth allowed you to relax more and you let our a long sigh as you rubbed your aching neck. 

You set the washcloth down and straightened your hair the best you could, sorting out the tangles and knots with your nimble fingers. 

Once satisfied you picked Mihawk’s dressing gown off the hook behind the bathroom door. It was crafted of a fine royal purple silk with intricate gold embroidery on the collar and the sleeves. You slip it on and cinch the tie around your waist, fully covering yourself. It was a bit large, seeing as Mihawk was much bigger than you, so the left shoulder began to fall as soon as you left the bathroom. 

You enter the suite and your eyes find Mihawk’s hat and jacket discarded on the armchair. 

You hear the gentle sound of liquid being poured and you turn your head. You were met with a shirtless Mihawk clad in nothing but sleeping trousers, pouring two heavy glasses of brandy on the end table next to the bed. This was the first time you realized there was nowhere else for you to sleep than the singular king-sized bed in the center of the room. 

“No need to worry. We’re all adults here. There should be no issue sharing a bed.” Mihawk approaches you with two glasses of brandy in hand. “Feeling better?” He asks, almost playful. He extends a glass to you. 

You take it. 

“Aye. A bit.” You say as you take the glass of alcohol, your fingertips brushing against his as you grip the cup. Suddenly you were reminded of the last time you shared a drink with this particular man… 

Your cheeks flushed and you looked to the floor. You had been so caught up in the drama of being shipwrecked and half-dead that you had forgotten the last time you had seen Dracule Mihawk… 

“Why did you come here? Just to get me naked in your hotel room?” You ask. 

Mihawk turns his back to you and sits on the bed. 

“Oh darling, getting you naked was only part of my plan. You deal in arms… The Cross Guild happens to be in the market. I thought we could strike a friendly deal, little rabbit.” Mihawk sips his brandy. “We can offer triple whatever that scoundrel was willing to pay.” 

“Well the cargo has been lost since the ship crashed but… wait how did you know I’d be here? This island?”  You take a sip of you drink for courage. “You were accurate enough to know when and where I’d wash ashore? How?”

Mihawk smirks. He rises from the bed and fishes his hand into his trouser pocket. He steps closer to you. He pulls out a piece of soggy paper from his pocket and holds it in two fingers in front of your face. 

“You don’t remember slipping me this?” Mihawk coos as the scrap of paper drips a bit onto the floor in between you both. 

“My..” You gasp softly upon the realization of what he was holding in his hand.

“Yes, rabbit, your vivre card. You stuffed it into my jacket before you scampered off. You don’t recall?” Mihawk says, teasingly, cocking his head down to catch your avoidant gaze. 

It was all coming back to you now…

Five months ago…

It was a loud, shady pirate bar on some shit-hole island your crew had docked at to resupply. It had been days since your ship’s booze supply had run dry and you used the opportunity to get good and sauced at the local tavern. At some point in your revelry, Dracule Mihawk had entered the very same bar and somehow you ended up on his lap… despite how much you claimed you despised him. How did it happen? Maybe a few featherlight touches across your waist… maybe a few dirty little nothings whispered in your ear… but all you could remember now was you melted like putty in his strong arms in the corner of a filthy dive bar. The memory was foggy but you remember stroking the sides of Mihawk’s carefully groomed beard and pushed your lips onto his with passion… 

“You remember now, yes?” The voice snaps you back to the present. 

You say nothing, embarrassed. You take another large gulp of brandy. 

“I-I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” You rush past the large man in front of you and whip the comforter open. You slide in the bed. “W-we can talk business in the morning.” 

“If you wish.” Mihawk says with a sigh. 

Mihawk sets his glass down on the side table and extinguishes most of the candles in the room, leaving a few to burn to the wick overnight. You feel the comforter move across your body and the mattress beside you dip. You curl on your side away from the man laying beside you. You shudder, the chill of being nearly drowned still wracking your bones. 

“You’re freezing.” Mihawk states before smoothly shifting to his side and wrapping his arm around your side. Your body tenses and he feels it. “So shy now, but not as much the last time we met?” You feel his hot breath against your ear. 

“Well, we were drunk, so…” You huff out, trying to ignore the flush growing in your cheeks. 

“And yet…” Mihawk starts. He slides his hand down your bicep to your hip, then further down to your thigh. His palm reaches your knee and gently pulls on it to hook your leg over his own, successfully opening your legs up for him. “Here you are now, completely sober and still soft and open for me…” 

Your breath catches in your throat, unable to respond. Mihawk’s strong hand climbs up your torso again, this time gliding across your stomach and into your robe to grip your right breast softly. You gasp as he squeezes and runs his thumb across your nipple. 

You feel a gentle grind of Mihawk’s hips against your backside, shuddering as you distinctly make out the largeness of his member between your cheeks. The former warlord’s nose nuzzles your scalp sweetly as he presses his lips closer to your ear. 

“Do you feel that? I’ve been waiting so long since you ran away…” Mihawk whispers as he presses his hardened cock further into you. “Tell me… little rabbit… why did you run from me?” 

You press your ass back harder into Mihawk’s pelvis and whine. 

“No no, tell me. I was ready to take you to my chambers and ravish you until the sun rose….” Mihawk purrs as he slides his hand from your breast to between your legs and cups your mound. “Tell me why you fled my arms that night.” He presses his middle finger on your seam, gently stimulating your clit. 

“I… I don’t know…” You manage to croak out. 

“That isn’t true, darling… you know that.” Mihawk begins to rub your sex in gently circles with 3 fingers, softly encouraging you to give in to him. 

“I…I didn’t… want…” You sigh and lean your head back into Mihawks face. 

“You didn’t want what, love? Tell me.” Mihawk leans up further and kisses up your neck to the spot behind your ear. With your arousal growing,  he spreads your folds and uses a single digit to press into your exposed, throbbing clit. 

“Y-you were going to- Ah!” You were interrupted by the sensation of Mihawk dipping a finger shallowly into your hole to gather your wetness to smear across your clit, further heightening your pleasure. “You were going to leave… It- it would have- oh god!” You cry out as two thick fingers suddenly breach your entrance and curve right up into your sweet spot. 

“It would have bothered you to see me leave, little rabbit?” Mihawk teases and leans forward over your shoulder. He slowly pulls out his fingers before pushing them back inside to pull at your favorite spot again. He torturously slowly continues fingering you, feeling the way your insides pulse everything now and then around him, pushing out more of your slick to coat his hand further. “You think I would have let you go without me?” 

You turn your head and open your eyes. You meet Mihawk’s gaze from over your shoulder. You were half drunk on the feeling of his fingers inside of you, but you were almost certain he was confessing to you. 

“Y-you.. Shit- more… please…” You moan and buck your hips upwards into Mihawks hand, trying to get more stimulation. 

“Tch.” He clicks his tongue. “Sweet girl wants more? Already? You must have been thinking about this just as much as I have…” Mihawk says as he speeds up the pace of his fingers inside of you. 

The grind of his palm against your slick clit in combination of his fingers hammering up and down against your special spot quickly sent you careening over the edge of climax. 

“My Gods- Mihawk!” You cry out as you feel yourself gush against your lovers hand and your shoulders shudder forward. 

“There it is, what a good girl you are.” Mihawk slows the pace of his fingers and pulls them out of you gingerly. “I haven’t stopped thinking about the vulgar sounds and expressions you might make when you cum, and it’s far surpassed my imagination.” Mihawk shifts and positions himself on his knees between your legs. “Now let me see it again.” He rubs his tip up and down your wet slit, teasing his mushroom head at your hole. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you don’t and we go back to being adversaries and forget this ever happened.” He purrs down at you. 

“I.. I want this. Please…” You get out through shaky breaths, still recovering from your orgasm. You reach your hand down to wrap over Mihawk’s hand on his member, guiding him to push into you. 

“Anything you want, my rabbit.” He coos as he presses hard into your body, letting out a groan as he bottoms out against your cervix. You squeal and claw at his chest, cunt clenching around his length unpredictably. “Let me take care of you…” 

Mihawk wraps one arm around your torso to push you down further onto his cock while supporting himself with his other one. He leans down and smashes his lips into yours. He kisses you hard as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. You squeak against his lips each time his cock drags against your sweet spot, your body riding up further on the bed with every hard thrust into your sopping pussy. 

Mihawk pulls back. 

“I knew that night I was going to take you back with me. I’ve known for a long time that you were mine… but that night you slipped away…” Mihawk  huffs out down at you. 

You could do nothing but moan in response as you find yourself approaching your high once again. 

“Oh, fuck, oh!” Your mouth drops open as you cum, cradling Mihawk’s face against yours as you scream. Your hips buck and you whimper as your sensitivity starts to get the better of you. 

“You’re mine, y/n. Ah-“ 

With a final gasp and a hard thrust, you feel your lover flood your insides with his warm spend. 

You flinch a bit as you feel the still twitching cock slip from your hole, walls still so slick and sensitive. You were flipped around gently and pulled into Mihawk’s broad chest. You nuzzle sleepily between his pectorals. After several moments of comfortable silence, you break the peace. 

“There was never any business deal, was there?” You ask. 

“No of course not.” Mihawk says with a gentle kiss to the top of your head. 

-- --

[onlinedolly]

SAVIOR COMPLEX 2

au where leon has a pretty little captive he thinks he’s saved

cw: manipulative leon, drug use, p in mouth, slight degradation, mentions of cum, obsessive leon, i think dats it folks

an: not proof read guys don’t kill me…..also this is dark/dd:dne content if you don’t like any of the tags above mentioned please do not partake in my content. as always MDNI!

Leon in his mind, was a perfect, downright good man. He was the star of his force, helped countless people a day, and saved you. Leon had swooped down and rescued you as if you were a baby bird with a clipped wing (at least that’s how he looked at it). And since then, the past four months in his home, Leon had never been so far on cloud nine.

People at work noticed, pushing into him and laughing asking if he had a woman at home that finally got that chip off his shoulder. And Leon would laugh and retort that he had ‘something like that.’

You were the definition of perfect, doe eyed and sweet waiting for him the waltz through the door like he always did and wrap you up in a big hug. It’d been a little over a few weeks since he let you free roam the home, trusting you since the outbursts had died down due to the pills he had you on.

When Leon got home that evening you were waiting by the door per usual as you heard the multiple locks turn. He came through the door smiling when he saw your tinier frame.

“Today was rough baby, come give me a hug, hm?” He spoke, holding his arms out as you wrapped yourself around him.

“Bet it was,” You spoke back, pliant and kind as ever, “I made dinner.” Leon could smell it then, the waft of spices flowing into the entry way.

“What a good, sweet, thing.” He smiled at you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Dinner went like it usually did, with Leon filling your head with all of the gruesome details of the day. “Bet you’re glad you’re here, yeah?” He always asked after he was finished which caused you to nod your head eagerly.

You were a kind thing, he knows he says that a lot, but it’s true. Always had dinner on the table, listened to him so eagerly as he talked and winched when he told you about the death he witnessed at work. And maybe, okay, Leon stretched the truth a bit. A majority of his day was actually filled with paper work and a minor domestic case that came down to a misunderstanding, but you didn’t need to know that.

After dinner, like always, like a good girl, you open your mouth wide as Leon places the pills onto your tongue, shoving his fingers into the back of your throat slightly making you gag. You swallow them dry before looking up at him with a hazy love filled look. He grabs your face between his big hand, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your glossy lips.

“Why don’t we watch a movie, yeah? You pick tonight.” He spoke when he pulled away, running his fingers through your hair.

Like a good girl you nod eagerly pulling him upstairs into his bedroom (where you always ‘watched movies’), Leon laughing and following along.

Once up to his room you put a movie on, one Leon didn’t particularly care about, as you climb into the bed next to him, curling up. He smiles, places his hand around your hip and he pretends to listen to whatever nonsense was playing on the screen. His big hand made circles into your hip causing you to mewl under his touch.

“Missed you so much today sweet girl,” He spoke, gripping your hip a little tighter as you let out a shiver at his touch.

“Missed you,” You spoke dismissively, too intrigued on the movie in front of you.

“Sounds like you didn’t miss me too bad,” Leon spoke, referring to the way you were more inclined to watch the movie then talk to the man who saved you.

You gasp, “I missed you terribly, you gotta believe me.” You spoke out, looking up at him with glossy eyes. So well trained, he thought to himself. He loved the way you shook like a dog at the slightest inclination that Leon seemed upset.

“Why don’t you show me how much you missed me?” He spoke, pulling you closer to him by your hip. You knew what that meant, what Leon wanted when he asked that question, and before Leon could repeat himself you had his belt buckle in your hand.

“What a dirty thing,” Leon degraded, leaning back in the bed as you fumbled around with his belt. After a few moments you moved on to his pants, letting him lift himself up as you worked them down his legs. His cock sprung out, hot and angry as you immediately took it into your hands.

“Shit, not that hard baby, tryin’ to kill your old man or somethin?” He speaks running his fingers through your hair and pulling. You ease up on your touch, stroking him slowly at first until he quips an eyebrow at you causing you to pick your pace up.

“God—“ He groans, pulling harder on your hair as you wince in pain, “Feels so fucking good, baby, put your mouth on it. Don’t leave me hangin’.” He speaks out, tapping your jaw as you open your mouth and place your glossy lips around his tip. “That’s more like it, baby. *Good.*” He groans out, running his hand down your neck and back and you begin bobbing yourself up and down on his cock.

You choke a bit, still a little inexperienced, as you attempt to take his full length. Leon was big and thick, making it hard to fully take him down your throat. Leon’s a moaning mess underneath you as you bob your head up and down on his cock, hollowing your cheeks out which earns a deep groan from him.

Leon, unlike his words was a rough man, groping your tits and pulling your hair as he begins to rock his hips into your mouth, laughing a bit as you gag around his cock.

“Sweet thing, can barely take it all, hm?” He pushes further into your mouth as he says it, pushing past the ring in the back of your throat making you sob. You feel like you’re going to throw up and pass out all at once, but oh so determined you still sucked him down greedily, massaging his balls in your small soft hands.

Leon had never felt so blessed to have a thing like you as he shoves your head down, his bush tickling your nose. He was going to cum soon, you could feel it in the way his hips stuttered, his pace into your mouth quickening and becoming sloppier.

When he cums he pushes your head all the way down and you feel the liquid spurt down your throat as you choke and cry out. You’re forced to swallow like always, as Leon smushes your face down against his pelvic bone.

“That’s it baby, take it all like a good girl,” He growls out.

Once done he yanks your head up by your hair roughly and you whine as he grabs your face with a big hand, “Betcha your so glad I took you in, hm? Where else you gunna get dick like me babydoll?”

Your voice is hoarse and comes out as barely a whisper as you speak out, “N-nowhere sir.” You whine out, falling into his body in exhaustion as he lets go of your head, wrapping his big arms around you.

“I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you,” He whispers as he places a kiss to the crown of your head.

“The bestest.” You whisper back, falling fast asleep into Leon’s arms.

Leon was a downright, honest-to-good man, a star in his force, and the man who picked you up and saved you.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

do you have a masterlist?

i do now 👉👉

👇

nsfw content is marked per post.

everything mine | desktop only: everything mine but chronological

stories snippets everything Gaz everything Soap everything Ghost everything Price everything multi-141 and poly 141 everything Alejandro everything KorTac everything Hesh and Keegan tag games/ask games

---series masterlists---

soulmate Soap

gym partner Gaz

post-apocalypse au

shark mermen 141 AU

---other series---

pick up lines

at Gaz: looking good.

at Soap: do you have a mirror in your pants? because i can see myself in them.

at Soap: what’s the difference between an enzyme and a hormone? you can’t hear an enzyme.

at Soap: do you like magic? because I’ve got a rabbit and a wand we can use.

^ follow-up: i think you broke me. / would you rather i broke your bed instead?

at Gaz: call me bunny, cause i wanna bounce on your lap

^ follow-up in the car

messy sexual tension Gaz

01: Gaz making things sexual on purpose 02: Gaz being jealous 03: Gaz getting your lewd selfie 04: …

soft dom gaz (wholesome route)

01: falling into bed with soft dom Gaz 02: waking up next to soft dom Gaz

soft dom gaz (toxic route)

01: flirting with Gaz on the job 02: spreading rumors about dating Gaz 03: spreading rumors about dating Gaz, part 2 snippet: you like it when Gaz bullies you snippet: Gaz isn’t gonna fix you <3 snippet: Gaz “savior complex” Garrick

TF-141 and free use medic reader

free use + rough sex + group sex

Soap is pissed

Ghost and Gaz protective over you

Ghost teaching Soap how to take care of their toy

with Alejandro

first time meeting Ghost

Ghost + coworkers with benefits, part 1

Ghost + coworkers with benefits, part 2

dark courtly love au

01. a courtly love au, but unhinged 02. Ghost is a weapon

---misc by character---

Soap

“And why would a medic need a call sign?”

Soap is a munch, but it’s not for your benefit

meeting best friend Soap at the airport (hurt/comfort)

Soap indulging himself on you

Gaz

Gaz plays tank; you play healer

snippet: Gaz bites you bites you bites you bites y

Price

smutty collab: Price impolitely asking for your attention

Nikto

Nikto and honeypot reader (a la red sparrow)

Hesh

offering to help Hesh out with his virginity

Keegan

snippet: let me divorce you

snippet: ex-husband keegan

Captain MacTavish

treating you like an unruly kitten

^ soft counterpart: when you keep fighting him anyway

multi

snippet: thinkin about a reader who is a people-pleaser in bed (with TF141)

snippet: people-pleaser reader + Horangi (+ KorTac)

snippet: TF141’s reactions to “can you get this thing off the top shelf for me?”

snippet: TF141’s reactions to “want me to paint your nails?”

snippet: topping Gaz and Ghost

^ follow up snippet: biting Gaz and Ghost

snippet: TF141’s favorite sexy clothes on you

snippet: TF141 protecting you because you’re their asset

snippet: TF141 with a Japanese/bilingual reader

totally failed at making a cake for the boys

if the military wanted you to have a wife, they'd issue you one

snippet: TF141 + cars

[psychabolition]

You talk about getting rid of the psychiatric system. But what do you propose should be done instead? /gen

I'm going to tell you a story . I once knew someone called Tim. When I met him he had already spent most of his life in drug addiction treatment centres, psych wards and prisons until he later ended up in a forensic psych ward. After he did LSD he 'never came down from his bad trip' and got diagnosed w schizophrenia. This diagnosis +the addict - diagnosis justified so many fucking human rights violations - it got him locked up, drugged up, strip searched, his privacy violated on a daily basis, isolated away from society and everyone he knew because apparently he needed to be 'saved from this illness in his brain that makes him do/think/feel' things he otherwise wouldnt and because he needed to be 'punished' into being a 'functioning', 'productive' (read: profit-generating) member of 'society' (read: hegemonic cultural norms & forms.) This is what psychiatry does - it doesnt help, it locks us up and tortures us. I dont need to be able to name alternatives to this lol . This is the worst possible way of treating anyone ever. It would help immensely to literally just STOP doing this. Even 'sane' people would go insane in places like these.

So the alternative to acting like an absolute asshole towards people who struggle severely and who dont have a place in society would be to 1)not isolate them away from society and 2)not torture them 🙏 . It would be to get rid off the psychologists' individual and the psychiatric systems' general saviour complex that only results in abusing people bc they act like the people who are labelled as mentally ill are (=their minds/brains) responsible for at fault for their own struggles. Instead we could show solidarity with each other and try to built a world where everyone has a place in and is valued as a person and where the suffering/madness of an individual is not seen as an incentive to literally abuse and socially ostracize them.

And @ everyone dont come at me w 'not everyone has these experiences w psychiatry' - any time you talk about systemic criticism you have to look at the most marginalized experiences. When talking about police defunding/prison abolition we also talk about police brutality that black disabled poor people face . And yes not everyone has bad experiences w every single cop , still ACAB . ALSO dont come at me with 'I know there ar GOOD psychologists who Actually want to help' ,1) fuck their savior complex 2)what individuals motives are for joining this system of oppression isnt necessarily the purpose of a system. The purpose of a system is what it does. The police isnt there to protect us, psychiatry isnt there to help us. We only have each other.

So, what you can do right now to get rid off the psychiatric system in your community? How can we stop relying on this authoritarian system that abuses and incarcerates so many of us ??

I think its important to educate each other on our rights. Because then we have the knowledge on what not to say in a therapy session so we dont get incarcerated or what to do when we are questioned by cops/psychs to see if we are 'at risk' or what to do when we or friends of us are already incarcerated so they can get out of there as fast as possible. Also educating your friends/family on psychiatric propaganda helps - a common myth is that if you dont 'look for signs' and call the cops to institutionalize a friend they might kill themselves. All while institutionalization/incarceration increases the risk of suicide extremely. This is important to know so no one in our communities calls the cops on us when we're doing really bad. Also educating each other on the biomedical model so everyone understands that we dont have an illness that we need to be 'saved from' (depression for example) or 'punished for' (aspd, drug addiction) and that we (=our minds/brains) arent to blame for our struggles Etc.

If you know that youre sometimes in extreme mental distress/pain you could also make a crisis plan with friends so you dont need to rely on the psych system - like for example the plan could be that a friend calls in sick for work/university and then stays at your place for 3-4days and is there for you/drinks tea w you, goes for a walk together w you, smokes a joint with you together until you feel better and arent acutely suicidal anymore. (Its also best to include several people in this plan bc it can get really overwhelming for 1 person). You can als include things in the plan like asking your friends to take away all knives in your apartment if you want to. Or if its a more permanent 'crisis' then a plan on how to move together with friends to get away from your nuclear family/abusive partner (just as an example).

Access to medication, knowledge on how to get off of them if you dont want to take them anymore and freedom and proper education in your decision on taking, weaning off or on staying on medication is not given in the psych system. So how do we change that? A common reason for 'crisis' is trying to wean off of psychiatric drugs (a lot of people get suicidal or psychotic bc of the withdrawal for example - depends on the meds, dosis and since how long youve been taking them though). You could plan when to do this together w friends. Theres anti psych guidelines on how to do this safely - a lot of psychiatrists tell you that you need to stay on meds no matter if you want to or not and they often dont know how to wean off of them or think youre 'at risk' and incarcerate you if you mention that you want to stop taking your meds -this highly depends on how stigmatizing your diagnosis is (=schizophrenia/bipolar are good examples for highly stigmatized ones) or if youre sb who get racialized for example (bc then psychs immediatly perceive you as more of 'a risk'). You could make a plan for example where you ask your friends to stay w you through this by living at your apartment w you for a few days, cooking meals for you and keeping your apartment clean. And then another friend of you could come by each day after work (for example) and also be there since its probably a lot for one person. Also LYING to psychiatrists is always a good idea. For example when youre trans and want to access gender affirming care its important not to mention any diagnoses in general but especially diagnoses like autism, schizophrenia, psychosis or PDs and then literally lie about yourself if necessary. You always know who you are and what you need best. Also dont blindly trust your psych on what medications go well together - look it up yourself !!! Theres a 'drug interaction checker' online where you can see if it might be dangerous to take certain meds at the same time. Also READ on what side effects are possible - make a diary for when you start your medication on how youre feeling/doing . Some changes are awful but still hard to notice bc youre thinking that it could also be a 'normal' worsening of your mental state that you think you might also have without meds. Also depending on what physical conditions you have/had you cant take some medications without it being dangerous - READ the whole instruction paper thing that always comes with your meds and/or google it !!

Also literally just sharing/collecting tips on how to cope w different struggles + harm reduction guides (suicidality, drug addiction, ...) is very helpful. There is a lot of community sourced material already out there.

I understand that the reason most people are severely struggling is because they dont have a community (=like when you only have 1 partner or 1 friend ,because youre (still) legal property of your parents, because youre stuck in a nuclear family,...) and not only because psychiatry divides our communities by blaming us for our struggles and isolating and stigmatizing us. Building community and relying on each other is the only way to get rid off the psychiatric system in the end. If we already had a real community that we could rely on, all the psych wards would be empty and therapists wouldnt exist. This is not the first step, its the solution.

Als there are already alternative institutions (that are already in practice) that are a replacement for psychiatry.

This is probably the answer that youre looking for 😂. I dont really care about these kind of anti psych concepts and practices since they seem out of my reach atm. Ik that theres an anti psych house in berlin whos guiding principles are 1)community care /peer support 2)full autonomy for everyone there and its specifically for people who are running away from psychiatric violence.

Other alternatives that I havent really looked into yet are : bethel house , peer respites, new models of therapy