#you're not always right just because you believe you are

[munsonsmixtapes]

wearing a matching set for eddie smut?

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) body insecurity, body worship, nipple play

There's not really a reason why you bought the lingerie set. It was pretty when you tried it on and it just so happened to that pretty red that Eddie loved to see you in. You wanted to surprise him with it, putting it on top of the t-shirts he stored in the bottom drawer of the dresser you shared.

You're washing dishes when Eddie comes home from work, trying your best to act normal as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, murmuring a "hey, baby" as he passes by you to head to your shared room to change into some more comfy clothes.

You’re buzzing with excitement as you slowly follow him into the bedroom, leaning against the door frame as you watch him make the discovery, pulling the bright red, thin panties out of the drawer, whistling as he takes a look at them.

"Shit, baby, what are these?" He asks, as he turns towards you. "I'm assuming they're not for me, because," he holds them up to his body and they don't look quite right on him.

"They're for you," you tell him, your cheeks getting warm. "I mean, they're for me to wear for you." You enter the room and stand in front of him, reaching into the drawer to pull out the matching bra.

Eddie's never seen this side of you, but he has to admit that he finds it really hot. Sure, you've worn lingerie for him before, but you've never bought any to specifically wear for him. And that makes him feel special. It makes him feel…hot.

"And what did I do to deserve such special treatment?" He asks, fanning his face dramatically.

"Nothing," you shake your head. "It's for you being you." You press a kiss to his nose then take the underwear from him. "I'm gonna slip into these and you just sit there and look pretty, okay?"

You head into the bathroom and close the door, taking a deep breath as you gingerly take off your clothes, changing into the lingerie, suddenly not feeling as confident as you did in the store earlier.

The cups of the bra seem to be smaller than you remember, more transparent, your tits on full display through the sheer fabric. And the panties are more tight, hugging you in all the wrong places. The whole thing looks ill fitting and now you’re unsure of whether you should change or not.

You stare at your reflection as you fix one of the straps that’s fallen off your shoulder. You almost don’t want to go out there, the idea suddenly feeling stupid to you. But Eddie is waiting and you don’t want to disappoint him.

You slowly exit the bathroom, covering yourself up as much as you can with your hands and arms, but eventually give up, showing yourself to Eddie as he leans back where he’s sitting on the bed, another wolf whistles passing through his lips.

“Baby, you look fucking amazing.” He’s grinning ear to ear and you almost believe him. Almost. He’d never lie to you so you don’t know why you don’t believe him.

“Do I?” You ask genuinely and Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. He doesn’t know why you’re asking. He always thinks you look amazing and is very quick to tell you so.

“Of course you do. Can’t stop looking at you. Hey, what’s wrong?” He notices your frown and rests his hands on his shoulder, his head moving in the direction of yours, trying to get you to look him in the eye.

“Nothing, Eds. Don’t worry about it.” You shake your head before turning it to the side so he can’t see how ashamed you feel.

“Do you not like it? Are you uncomfortable? You don’t have to do this for me. You can change back if that’s what you want. I love you no matter what you wear. You know that.” He wants to know what’s wrong so he can fix it. He hates when you feel anything but happy and wants to do whatever he can to make you feel better.

“Is it too small?”

“Small? No, baby, you look perfect.” His hand moved to one of the cups of your bra, his fingers brushing over the lace. “This, this is nice, but I think I like what’s underneath it even better.”

Eddie pushes the strap off of your shoulder then presses a featherlight kiss to it. He backs you up to the bed as his kisses get hotter and rougher, his lips sucking on your skin as your back collides with the bed.

“Once I’m done with you, you’ll know just how pretty I think you are. Especially when you see all of marks I’m about to leave on you when you look in the mirror.”

Your cheeks flush at his comment and he’s quick to get off of you, rushing to the other side of the room and grabbing something before hurrying back to you.

He straddles your waist and brings a camera up his face, making sure that you’re in the center of the frame.

“Need a photo of my pretty girl so pose for me.”

You do as he says, positioning yourself in a way that you think looks sexy, a pose that you’ve seen in the magazines he reads.

“That’s it,” he says then snaps a photo, the thing printing out of the camera. You take it and set it on the bedside table along with the camera before Eddie lies down on top of you once again.

He leans down and brings your nipple to his mouth, sucking on it through the fabric. You let out a whine and he takes that as an invitation to continue. His hands find yours and he pins them above you as he dives in for more, licking and sucking on the fabric as you moan underneath him, the sounds nothing but hot.

Eddie moves his hands underneath you and unhooks your bra, your tits coming into view and he feels his mouth watering as he stares down at your exposed chest and all of the things he wants to do to it. You’re right there on display for him like an all-you-can-eat buffet and fuck is he hungry.

He goes for your nipple, taking the whole thing into his mouth, flicking it back and forth as he sucks on it, wanting to get a full taste of it. He slides his hands underneath you, holding onto your bare back as he works, trying to giving himself more room, wanting to have his mouth on as much of you as he can.

You’re moaning and whining and he makes sure to press his rock hard cock against you so that you know just how hard you’re making him. That you know that he’s getting just as much enjoyment out of this as you are.

“Fuck,” you whine as he bites down on your nipple, arching into him as he bites down even harder, wanting you to moan as loud as possible so all of your neighbors know exactly how good he makes you feel.

You’re already reaching your orgasm and even though you’re embarrassed by it, Eddie is quick to let you know how good of a girl he thinks you are, how you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to.

“Oh,” you moan loudly as you grab onto him, your nails digging into the back of his shirt. “Oh my god, Eddie.”

“That’s it,” he encourages as he helps you ride out your high. “That’s my girl. Sound so pretty when you moan my name.”

As you’re coming down, he moves lower, loving on every inch of skin he can get his mouth on, nipping and sucking on the parts of you he loves the most, stopping once he gets to your cunt. He spreads your legs wide and you look ready for him, already sopping wet through your panties.

Eddie gets undressed and puts on the first condom he can find before lowering himself onto you once again as he slides into you, pumping in and out slowly, knowing that this is exactly what you need. You want him to make love to you, not fuck you like he always does. You want him to show you just how much he loves you with his body.

“Wish you could see how pretty you are,” he says as he presses a kiss to your lips. “Because if you could see what I see, baby, fuck,” he sighs as he picks up the pace just slightly, his fingers interlocking with yours as his face is buried in your neck, pressing soft kisses to the skin.

“Can we do this more often?” You ask even though you’re kind of afraid to.

“What? Go slow?”

“Yes.” Your face flushes as you’re confession but Eddie just looks as you lovingly.

“Baby, you can have anything you want. All you gotta do is ask.”

“So we can do this all night as long as I ask?” Eddie pulls back to look at you as if you had just asked a silly question, and you suppose that you did.

“No question,” he shakes his head. “Now lie back darlin’, gonna show you just what I think of that pretty little thing you were wearing.”

And you do that the rest of the night and into the early morning, and afterwards, Eddie takes that Polaroid from the bedside table and puts it in his wallet so he can look at it anytime he wants. And after he does so, he pulls you into his arms and cuddles you until the two of you fall into a much needed sleep.

[damnibreathealot]

hi hiiii I love your writing, can't believe you just started🥹

I'm feeling a bit in a rut, was wondering if maybe you can write simon sucking tits in an attempt to cheer us up?

simon 'ghost' riley sucking on your tits in an attempt to cheer you up after an argument!

✎ | nipple play and cunnilingus! shitty proofread.

✎ | ooo, yall are freaky!! mhm, i like it, and also, i hope you don't mind me adding the argument + cunnilingus bit! ALSO YAPPED SO HARD, AND THIS IS KINDA SHITTTTT!!!

merry christmas/happy christmas eve!!

you and simon had an argument about an hour ago. it was some petty argument about simon not taking out the rubbish like you told him to before you went to work. just coming home and seeing him not doing the shit he was told to after a stressful day at work just ticked you off.

now, he was stuck with the silent treatment. he always manages a way to cheer you up after an argument, and depending on how serious the argument is, it would end with him getting you a gift and showering you with kisses or sex.

today, he decided to go with sex. he walked into your room, the way you were laying on your shared bed with a pissed look on your face, just scrolling through your phone, told him everything he needed to know.

you didn't even acknowledge that he came into the room, nothing but a slight squint of your eye and the neutral expression on your face dropping to a slight frown.

he plopped down next to you on the bed and wraps his arms around you waist. you didn't even pay attention to him, even after that. just still scrolling through your phone, texting your friends here and there, still not taking notice to him. like he's a ghost.

(hehe! get it? because his nickname is ghost and he... no? ok...)

that's when he decides to take action, pressing kisses against your neck and leave hickeys in his wake. his gaze follows back up to your face. you still haven't budged? that's alright. he'll break you soon.

he pushes up your shirt and notices how your hard expression falters a bit. he grins and stares at your tits. he presses firm kisses against your breasts, paying close attention to how your your eyes flutter slightly when his tongue rolls over your nipple.

he quite literally worships your tits. just enough to see you break. hickeys all over them, his lips wrapping around you nipple while using his finger to tease the other one with his finger. he sucks your tits sore. this is watch breaks you. he finally makes you break when he hears you softly mutter out his name.

he decides to tease you, his hand trailing doing to the waistband of your pyjama shorts. just tracing his fingers teasingly around your pelvis. he chuckles at your frustrated sigh,

"don't be a fucking bastard simon. you know what i want."

"no, quite frankly, i dont. have to tell me first."

"make your wife beg when she's pissed off at you??

"ya make good point." he shrugs. he can't deny that. he slips his hand underneath your shorts. he groaned when his hand came in contact with your soaked pussy. his finger thumbs at your clit, rubbing the poor nub. his other fingers slip down and sink into your tight hole. a shakey breath leaves his lips when your pussy deliciously claps around his fingers.

he knows you want this. been so stressed out lately. you don't even want it. you fucking need it.

he takes his hand out of shorts just when you're about to cum. you give him a sharp glare, and you were about to give him snarky comment, but you quickly close your mouth once you notice him shifting his position. he tugs down your shorts and knickers.

he doesn't hesitate to press his tongue flat against your swollen nub before swirling all around. the way it throbs against his tongue has him fucking hooked. his fingers return back into your pussy, nice and slow. he finger-fucks you. his fingers curl just into the right spot in your gummy walls. the place to make your toes curl and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

he keeps going until you're screaming his name, and your juices flood against his fingers and on his tongue. he fucks you through your orgasm and then pulls his fingers out of you – looking you in the eye as he licks his fingers clean.

"forgive me now?"

you glare at him – once again, "fuck off."

[zepskies]

Merry Christmas Eve Eve!!!!!! 🥳❄️❄️

It's my favorite holiday for sure! And thanks for this little gift you've given me, Wayne. 😘❤️💚

Ooooh, snappy 😆 I've been diving into the books a bit and I do think they still have some tough things to talk out. The show's making it look way too easy lol

Ok more and more you're making me want to dive into the actual books!! It's true, the show really did shoulder through that pretty quickly lol.

But I loved all the kindergarten teasing and bantering between them. Such a fun moment! 🤍

Aw thank you!! 💜💜 I had a lot of fun creating the sibling banter moments between Russell and Colter, whether it was light and teasing or tense and angsty.

Read this fully in Bobby's voice. You totally nailed his cadence too! You're killing it here, Alex!! 👏👏

Omg thank youuu! I watched some episodes over again to try and get Bobby's voice right, even in this small moment. 🥰🥰

Ahaha knew it! Right on time too 😂 He really cares for her a lot after such a short amount of time already 🥹❤️

He really does. 🥹 I really tried my best to show that they do have this connection that's special (and worth not letting go of?), despite only knowing each other for a short time. 💕

You're a hopeless romantic. You wouldn't do this to me, right? Right, Alex???? 😭

They do share similarities 🤣🤣

Lmfaoo right?!! And not just because they're both actually "Justin."

(They could actually be bros, like what? 🤣)

I do love how resourceful he always is 🤓👏

See, that for me was actually the challenge narratively. Writing Colter and his intelligence believably, since of course, I'm not the brilliant author of the actual books. 😅😅 But I hope I faked it well enough in this story! lol

Like the reader, I'm not surprised but was hoping it wouldn't be this bad. Geez, Charlie, you call this getting your shit together? 🙄

Oh, Charlie's a ridiculous hot mess lmaoo. He's not doing himself any favors, even when he tries to "fix it."

Why? No, not the woods!! 😂 (Being lost in a forest is one of my worst nightmares lol)

Ya know, I totally get that. 😂 I don't live near forests, but I'm pretty sure Colter would have to come find my ass after 1 hour alone out there in the wilderness.

Russell's dark side is doing things to me... 🫠🫠

Ooof, why do I love a rugged, dangerous but protective man so much?

Figured something like this happened. I do feel for him, though. It's called addiction for a reason ❤️‍🩹 His argument for stealing was hilarious, however. Like, boo, really? Don't pretend you care about the Native Americans now. I think he knows his sister too well and figured this might work 😂

Oooh yeah. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 It's certainly not cut and dry.

Oh, you're totally valid for calling Charlie out like that lmaooo. Even the reader is calling him out on his BS. 😂 The way he tries to get "noble" about those Native American artifacts isn't fooling anybody.

You did it, too!!!! The "I love you" goodbye!! 🤣

Omggg you really caught me! 🤣🤣 What can I say, it's the perfect dramatic moment. 😏

Anything can happen from here, and I so hope you enjoy the rest of the ride down the cliffhanger!! 😘💕

Every Second Counts - Part 3

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: *Deep breaths* Are you ready? 😉

Word Count: 4.4K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, protective Russell, perilous situations, violence, character death, and another (literal) cliffhanger…

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 3: "Timer Starts Now"

As he drove away from the museum, Colter could see it even more clearly. 

“You like her,” he said, giving his older brother a smile. 

Russell glanced at him, then rolled his eyes. 

“Focus on the road,” he said. 

“Just admit it. You like her,” Colter smirked. “And the fact that she called you for help isn’t a coincidence.”

Russell made a sound of annoyance and shook his head. At this point, he knew Colter wasn’t going to drop the subject.

“All right, we went out on one date,” Russell held up a finger. “It was fun, but we agreed that I’m just not relationship material.”

Colter sobered at that, at the wry tone of his voice. It sounded like Russell liked you even more than he was willing to admit.

“Do you have a timeline on that brewery?” Colter asked.

Russell chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah, I’m just a few dollars short on that one.”

He stared out the window for a while, but he eventually turned back to his brother.

“She called me because her brother’s a vet. Because I know what it’s like to deal with the assimilation process, coming back to civilian life. Trying to figure out where you belong, you know?” he said.

“You think you’ve assimilated?” Colter asked.

Russell shrugged. “Best I know how, anyway.”

“You can’t really call yourself a civilian though, can you?” Colter pointed out. 

Russell shot him a look. “Yeah well, neither can you, Colt.”

That created a kind of tension in the car. A call from Bobby, Colter’s analyst, mercifully broke the silence. He’d gotten some useful information on Eddie Mendez, the man Charlie was supposedly working with, or for.

“Well, he’s not the most upstanding citizen,” Bobby said. “He’s a cocaine dealer by trade. Other fun items on his rap sheet include illegal gun possession, theft, and domestic violence.”

“All right, thanks, Bobby,” Colter said.

Great, Russell shook his head. Just what had your brother gotten himself into?

They were getting closer to the bar, and it mentally brought him back to his date with you.

Okay, maybe he did like you. But he also respected and understood your reasons for cutting things short that night. Usually, he was okay with being in a new town every other week, the occasional one-night stands, the skeevy motel rooms and the fast food. It was all with a goal in mind, and that made the hustle easier.

He’d started to wonder though, what it would be like to set down roots somewhere. Doug made it work with his wife and still did his contract work, even if there were some major pros and cons to that too…

Russell was only broken out of his thoughts when he got a call himself, from Dory. He answered it and held the phone to his ear.

“Hey, D. What’s up?” he asked.

“Russell, something’s wrong,” she said. Her voice was panicked.

He frowned, his brows furrowing. “What? What happened?”

The more he listened, the more his eyes widened in shock. He looked to his brother.

“Colter, turn around. Now.”

Russell and Colter arrived back at your house, where Dory was parked out front. She came out of the safety of her car when she saw them. Russell got to her first. He laid a hand on her shoulder in the driveway.

“What happened?” he asked. 

She tearfully explained that she found your purse in the bushes, but your phone was missing. She had just picked up your call when it suddenly cut off. 

“But I heard her scream,” Dory said, with a stifled breath.

Russell’s mood darkened in response, and the longer he took in the scene. He looked over at Colter, who also wore a frown. 

The tracker examined your car and driveway first. Already he found signs of struggle. He noticed a couple pieces of dark glass on the pavement, and when he scrutinized his surroundings further, he picked your broken phone out of the grass. The screen was cracked beyond repair.

Next, he climbed the three short steps of the porch, up to the front door of the house. There were marks on the doorknob, likely scratched by a key. He spotted the Ring Camera next.

Good. He took it right off the wall.  

“Do you have her keys there?” he asked his sister. Dory handed them to him and he let himself in. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

The three of them entered your house and found it dark and empty. Colter switched the lights on and got to work, after going back to grab his laptop from the car.

Russell stayed with his sister on the couch, a supportive hand on her back. He tried to shove his anger and upset deeper below the surface.

Meanwhile, Colter had Bobby retrieve the data from the camera. Within a few minutes, he sent Colter a video file, which Colter then played on his laptop. The three of them watched you approach the door.

Someone with a man’s build grabbed you from behind, wearing dark clothes and a mask that obscured his face. You screamed and tried to fight, but the man dragged you away as you struggled.

Russell’s frown deepened as his body tensed with anger again, his jaw ticking as it clenched. And then came the self-loathing.

Rookie fucking move. Should’ve made sure she got home safe, he thought. Better yet, should’ve kept her with me.

Dory covered her trembling mouth and dissolved into tears. Russell tucked her against his side, rubbing her arm. Colter laid a hand on her shoulder as well, but he continued to analyze the footage. He couldn’t make out the attacker’s face with the mask he was wearing, but Colter saw a blue sedan in the background. It peeled off after you were hauled off-screen.  

“Why would they take her? What the hell is Charlie into?” Dory said. She sniffled and wiped at her face.

“To keep her quiet after she started digging into his disappearance, possibly. Or for leverage against him,” Colter said, leveling her with honesty. “Someone doesn’t want us to find Charlie. I’m betting it’s whoever he’s working for.”

He thought it was safer if he didn’t tell his sister exactly who Charlie’s employer was.  

Dory shook her head in worry. “We need to call the police.”

Colter shared a grim look with his brother. He knew Russell understood the score here. 

“If we get the police involved, it’s at least a 50% chance that whoever has her and Charlie…will kill both of them,” Colter said. Dory sucked in a trembling breath. 

“Our best bet is to keep digging,” Colter said.

“Let’s go,” Russell said, nodding at him. He stood, parting from his sister with a hand squeezing her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Dory asked. She got up to her feet along with her brothers.

“Howley’s. It’s our only lead on Charlie’s employer,” Colter replied. 

“Okay, but wait—” Dory reached out for Russell’s arm. It was a reflex as she tried to wrap her mind around all of this. 

Russell grasped her shoulders gently enough, but he made sure she saw the sense of urgency in his eyes.

“We don’t have time,” he said. “From here on out, every second counts.” 

After a beat, Dory nodded in acceptance. She let go of his jacket. 

“Okay, keep me updated.”

“Will do,” he said, and he swiftly followed Colter out the door.

The brothers drove in silence to the bar. Colter noted his brother’s tension, and the grim set to his jaw. 

“Hey,” Colter said, earning Russell’s attention. Colter gave him a reassuring look. “We’re gonna find her. We’ll find both of them.”

Russell exhaled. “Yeah.”  

Oh, he knew he’d find you eventually, and your brother. He just didn’t want to think about how he might find you.

Once they got back to Howley’s, they started by questioning the bartender about Eddie Mendez. 

“He’s not here. But that’s a couple of his friends over there,” the bartender said. He pointed them in the direction of a couple of guys drinking near the back. Three of them were sitting at a table playing cards. 

Russell recognized two of them. One was the same guy who made the mistake of hassling you by the pool table. He’d gotten a bloody nose for his trouble. Russell smirked at the memory. 

“Pete, make a fucking move already,” said one of the guy’s buddies.

Russell caught it as he and Colter approached them. This time, Pete seemed at least somewhat sober, even with his second beer in hand. Another bottle sat empty beside his arm.

“Hey, fellas,” Russell greeted the table. “Little Blackjack, little booze. Looks like a good night you’re having.”

“Do I know you?” Pete asked. His face showed a spark of recognition when he took in Russell. 

“Well, you’re about to. We’re looking for one of your friends, Eddie,” he replied. 

Pete set his beer down on the table. Predictably, he crossed his arms and closed up.

“I don’t know no Eddie.”

Russell resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“I realize it’s hard for you, but don’t be dumb. Eddie Mendez,” he pressed. 

Pete glanced at his friends, then he stood from the table, drawing himself to his full height. He was a bit bigger than Russell, but a beer gut wasn’t everything.  

Russell seized up the man in front of him with an almost lazy grin. By contrast, his eyes were sharp, betraying his true thoughts. 

“Now remember. Whatever you start, I’m gonna damn well finish,” he said. 

That sure ignited Pete’s memory. He seemed to be remembering your smaller fist nearly breaking his nose. His face fell with an angry frown. Russell smirked.

Colter laid a warning hand on his brother’s arm.

“We’re not looking for trouble. We’re just trying to find someone Eddie might know. Charlie,” Colter said. “Do you know him?”

“No, I don’t,” Pete claimed.  

“Like you didn’t know Eddie?” Colter replied, raising a brow. “Where can we find him?”

“Now you are looking for trouble,” Pete spat. “Fuck off, Timberlake.”

Just then, Colter’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and saw a text from Dory, asking for an update. He ignored the message for now and put his phone away.

Hearing a commotion, he quickly looked up in time to realize that Russell had wrangled Pete into a stronghold with his arm behind his back and had slammed him onto the table. Drinks and bottles rattled and spilled; playing cards fell to the floor. Pete’s friends got up with angry, threatening gaits.

“I think you can point us in the right direction before I break this meaty arm of yours. How about that?” Russell said. 

“Hey! No fighting!” the bartender called from the front. “Take that shit outside.”

Colter internally sighed, but he’d have to roll with this, even though this wasn’t how he’d wanted to play it. 

“I wouldn’t test him,” Colter advised. “That’s gonna be a bad break. You got good health insurance, Pete? You’ll probably need surgery, expensive bills, a little physical therapy, a few months of recovery time.”

Pete seemed to weigh Colter’s logic, albeit with an angry huff. He waved off his friends and caught his breath while pinned against the table. 

“I can’t talk to you,” he said. “I’ll get myself killed.”

“I’d worry more about your odds right now, Pete,” Russell said. He tightened his twisted hold on the man’s arm, earning a strangled sound of pain. 

Colter weighed the options here in record time, and he came to a decision. He grasped Russell’s arm firmly.

“Let him go,” he said.  

Russell gave him a look of disbelief. “Colt?”

Colter implored him with his eyes. Trust me.

After a few more seconds, Russell’s lips pursed, but he let the guy go. 

“Ah, fuck,” Pete muttered. After he was able to straighten up, he rubbed his aching arm and shot them both a red-faced glare. 

Colter steered his brother out of the bar before a real fight could break out. He knew it’d become a bloody mess, and they didn’t have time for a night stay in a county jail cell this time.  

“You better have a damn plan,” Russell whispered, as they neared the front doors of the bar.

“You know I do,” Colter replied.

They later sat in his truck while it was still turned off. Just waiting in silence.

A few minutes went by before the back doors of the bar opened to Pete and his gaggle of delinquent friends. As Colter suspected, one of them made a call. It lasted no more than a couple of minutes. Then, they piled into Pete’s car and pulled out of the parking lot.

Colter started up his own car, and he followed them.

You were led into what sounded like a warehouse. You couldn’t know for sure with this musty bag over your head and your wrists bound together with zip ties, but you clenched your teeth and tried to stop sniffling. Your fear made your heart pump fast and loud in your ears.

Voices echoed around you, arguing, yelling about shipments. You were shoved hard to the ground, and you gasped, instinctively throwing your hands out when your knees hit the hard cement. 

“No…” 

That voice was all too familiar. 

The bag was finally ripped off your head, the edge of it catching in your frizzy hair. You blinked wearily at the florescent lights above, and you wiped at your tears and smudged mascara. Your breath left your lungs when you saw your brother, Charlie. 

He was tied to a chair, shirtless and shoeless, beaten and bloody. Some parts of his skin even looked burned. His jeans remained, at least. But his face was hard to look at. His left eye was swollen, his lip split, his cheek cut and bloody. Both his eyes were red-rimmed, and he was sweaty and dirty, as if they’d been keeping him down here like an animal. He looked thinner too.

He stared back at you in dismay, your name falling from his lips.

You tried to scramble over to him, but someone grabbed you by the hair and yanked you back. You cried out in pain.

“Eddie stop! Don’t hurt her!” he shouted. He drew enough strength to pull at his restraints. Your hands reached back on reflex to grasp at the hand holding your hair. 

“No, you did this,” Eddie said. He clicked the safety off his handgun and pointed the barrel at your head, right between the eyes. You gasped and froze where you sat. 

“You couldn’t make it easy, huh? Well now, I’m making it real simple for you,” he continued. “Even more simple, now that we cut out the middleman.”

Eddie gestured to what looked like a woven potato sack laid behind Charlie’s chair, but really, that was just part of it. As your eyes scanned over, you saw the narrow shoulders of a man with a familiar dark blue blazer. It was stained red with a bloody hole carved through the back. Your breath stilled in your lungs.

Eddie glanced over at you, his lips curving. He walked over to the dead body, turned it over with his boot, and dragged off the potato sack to reveal the lifeless blue eyes of Dr. Feinman.

Your eyes widened.

You let out a blood-curdling scream that startled a pigeon out of the warehouse, from where it had been perching on a high support ledge. You leaned back on your bound hands, but you could go no further as one of Eddie’s men grabbed your shoulder, pinning you on the ground. His annoyed face told you to shut the fuck up.

Charlie grimaced and turned his face from the sight of the body. Both shame and hate filled his eyes when Eddie bent down to face him.

“Tell me where you hid the goddamn weapons,” he demanded.

Your lips trembled as new tears brimmed over and streamed down your cheeks. You’d suspected the truth, but it was different from being faced with the reality. Charlie was the one who stole from the museum. He’d likely been doing a lot worse for the past few months. And somehow, Feinman had gotten in between. He’d also paid the price.

Your brother saw your disappointment, and he accepted it. But lacking an answer, Eddie pistol whipped you in the face, earning a pained cry from you as you fell back onto the ground. You had to blink the stars out of your eyes.

After his shock wore off, Charlie’s face hardened with fury.

“Oh, don’t give me that fucking face,” Eddie said. He grabbed you by the back of the neck, startling another sharp breath from you. “If you don’t tell me what I want to know, what I did to you’ll be child’s play, compared to what I’m gonna do to her. And you’re going to watch.”

Against your will, tears filled your eyes while you stared at your brother. You were terrified, and Charlie knew it. He was scared too, but he also knew then what he had to do.

“I buried them,” he admitted. 

“You buried them?” Eddie repeated. He brushed back his dark hair with the same hand that held his gun. “Ain’t that ironic. All right, where did you bury them?”

“In the national forest, less than an hour out,” Charlie replied. “But you won’t find it without me.” 

Eddie shook his head on a sigh. “Of fucking course.”

He gestured to his men waiting nearby. He wordlessly gave them the order to untie your brother. 

“All right, Charlie. Let’s go for a drive,” he said, and gave you a sleazy smile. “You too, sweetheart.”

He hauled you up onto your feet and kept you close to him, with a hand like a vice around your arm. God, you hated a sweethearting man.

You held your breath. You could only pray that Dory had noticed you were missing…and that Russell and Colter could find you before it was too late.

Please…

It was still dark out, but the sky was beginning to lighten when Colter pulled to the side of the road. The car they followed had stopped in front of a warehouse near an industrial downtown area. Colter spotted the blue sedan from the Ring Camera footage. It was parked out front. 

With a shared nod of understanding, Colter and Russell climbed out of the truck and took the time to arm themselves properly before scoping out the warehouse.

“What does a drug cartel want with museum artifacts?” Russell remarked as they were gearing up. “That’s still not adding up for me.”

“It is odd, but maybe the idea came from Charlie,” Colter said. “He had access. Maybe he saw it as a way to buy their trust.”

“Okay, then what went wrong? Why’d they take her?” Russell replied. “I don’t know, man. Something feels off here.”

Colter nodded in agreement. “We don’t have all the pieces yet.”

But they were about to get them. They moved closer to the warehouse, with Russell heading towards a side door and Colter going around the back. They saw a few men crowded around a TV in the corner of the warehouse. Behind them were crates upon crates of what surely was product. Probably tens of thousands worth of coke.

Jesus, Russell thought. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, but still. This was a serious operation.

Colter caught sight of a lone chair under a bright corner of the room. It was stained with sweat and blood, and some cut ropes hung from the seat. He alerted Russell to the scene with a subtle gesture of his raised gun. Russell’s face turned grim. He nodded minimally, then pointed with his eyes at the group of unsuspecting men. The brothers drew in closer.

Russell fired a shot directly into the TV screen, making it crash onto the ground. The men startled like rats, but they soon faced Russell and Colter’s guns. When one of them reached for the gun tucked in their pants, Colter aimed directly at him.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Colter warned. 

“Where’s Charlie?” Russell demanded. “And his sister.”

He aimed his .45 caliber M1911 at their friend Pete, who had Cheeto stains on his shirt. 

“How about you, Pete. You finally wanna share with the class, before I blow your fucking face off?!” Russell shouted. 

The depths of his voice reverberated widely in the warehouse. It set the tone for things to come, if he didn’t get some cooperation.

Pete shifted on his feet, betraying his nerves. His forehead was starting to sweat too. 

“They’re not here,” he admitted. “They left a while ago.”

Russell flexed his finger over the trigger of his gun. 

“Tell me where,” he said.

Eddie wasn’t exactly an outdoorsy kind of guy. He kicked his boot against a tree while leaning against it.

“Fucking rock in my shoe,” he muttered angrily.

He was getting more and more frustrated with the uneven terrain (and the mosquitos) the longer the five of you trekked onwards: including you, Charlie, Eddie, and two of his men, Rick and Kevin. Both of them had guns trained on your back and Charlie’s. 

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said quietly to you.

You shook your head. Disappointment didn’t even begin to cover what you were feeling as you looked at him, but at least they’d given him a shirt to cover his beaten torso. His face wasn't so lucky.

He righted you when you struggled on the gravel and loose dirt in your ankle boots. Your hands were still tied together too.

“What the hell happened to you?” you asked, as you caught your breath. 

“I needed the money,” he said, though he knew it wasn’t an excuse. “I was his bodyguard.”

“He’s a drug dealer,” you snapped. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“He was my dealer,” he admitted, though his gaze was heavy. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you, but…a few weeks after I left rehab, I slipped. I never really did quit. Just got better at hiding it.” 

You let out a sharp breath, and tried to blink past your tears. Another disappointment, another heartbreak for the books.

“But when he offered me a job to pay off what I owed, he wanted insurance that I’d stick around. To prove myself,” Charlie explained. “He came up with the idea to rob the museum.”

“Why was Dr. Feinman involved? Did he find out?” you asked.

Charlie nodded with a sigh. “He caught me the first time I tried to steal the artifacts. I…I lied. Told him we planned to sell them. So instead of turning me in, he wanted to be cut into the deal.”

“What? Why?” you said. Your former boss was many things—a stuffy, self-important man chief among them—but you’d never taken him for a thief.

Charlie gave you a wry look. “Owed his second wife up to his eyeballs. Alimony’s a real bitch.”

You shook your head. That explained why Charlie hadn’t yet been a suspect in the theft. Feinman had probably helped cover Charlie’s tracks. But whatever shortcomings Feinman had, he hadn’t deserved to die like that. A shudder went through your body, remembering his lifeless eyes. You breathed out slowly and tried to rid yourself of the nightmarish image. You managed to push past that to ask your next question.

“And who chose the Native American weapons?”

Charlie’s lips pursed. He glanced over his shoulder. “He did. Thought they looked cool.”

Eddie smirked and waved his gun at him, spurring you both onward. Charlie kept walking and turned his attention back to you. 

“The way I figured it, the museum shouldn’t have them anyway.” 

Your lips pursed at that. You sort of saw his point there, however convoluted his justification, but putting those artifacts in the hands of a drug dealer was even worse.

“And this is so much better for them,” you said pointedly. 

“That’s why I couldn’t go through with it. Tried to get out of the whole damn mess,” he said. “I know what you would’ve said to me. And I knew if I ever saw you again, I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes.”

Your tears welled up again, when you saw the sincerity of his gaze.

“Okay, this touching little scene is making my balls itch,” Eddie said. He grabbed Charlie’s shoulder and turned him around. “Where the fuck are we going? If you’re trying to pull something smartass here, Charlie, I promise you, you’re gonna regret it.”

He cocked the safety back on his gun and pointed it at Charlie’s chest. Charlie raised slow, placating hands.

“It’s just a little further,” he promised. 

“If you’re giving me the runaround—” Eddie started.

“Then what? Without me, you’ll never find it,” Charlie barked back. 

Eddie’s face tightened, and he pointed the gun at you instead. You sucked in a breath.

Charlie quickly held up his bound hands again in surrender. After a beat of tension, he pointed up when he heard rushing water. 

“Hear that?” he said. “I buried it on a cliff near a waterfall. We’re getting close.”

Another stretch of silence filled the clearing. 

Eddie weighed Charlie’s words. When he was mollified enough, he lowered his gun away from you. At his command, Rick and Kevin kept you and your brother moving. 

Charlie glanced to his right side. He realized that you all were walking near the edge of a steep hill that careened downward. Taking in a breath to center himself, he turned to you.

“I love you, you know that?” he whispered.

Your brows furrowed. You opened your mouth to reply, but you found the look in his eyes suspicious. Like he was saying goodbye. 

That was when he swiftly turned. He snapped the heel of his hand into Kevin's throat and grabbed his gun while he was choking. Charlie shot him in the chest, then he clipped Rick in the shoulder. 

Just as Eddie began to raise his own weapon, Charlie met your look of shock with his own determination. 

He pushed you down the hill.

AN: I know, I know. Two cliffhangers in a row is cruel, but I promise we're getting to even more fun action and cathartic moments in Part 4! 😘

Next Time:

Russell called your name as he searched through the dense trees. Sunlight was beginning to filter through their leaves in dappled color on the trail. It gave him a better view ahead.

He stopped short when he saw a splatter of blood on the ground, painting the dirt and some dead leaves. A well of unease rose in his gut.

He headed toward the sound of running water, and he soon found another cliff. Just beyond it was a waterfall, and river below. Seeing no signs of life, he pulled back and continued to call your name, and all the while, pushing down his worry.

“Russell?!”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 4

Series Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

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@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[misotsukiiyeooo]

"What's this one about?"

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x F! reader

A/N: need me a Wonwoo. (I'm too lazy to add photos for this one sry!)

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 3.6k

Synopsis: Wonwoo's curious and interested in the book you're reading, so interested that he accidentally reads ahead.

On a serene, cozy, rainy night, you stand in front of your kitchen counter, resting your book on it while being completely engrossed in the story.

So focused on the book, that you don't even notice your boyfriend, Wonwoo, walking into the kitchen.

He approaches from behind and wraps his big arms around you. "What's this one about, hmm?" Wonwoo asks, resting his chin on your shoulder.

With a smile, you reply, "It's about a girl on a mission to find out who killed her family. It's so good, and right now, the killer might be one of her best friends! Crazy, right?"

He listens intently as you speak, wanting to ensure you feel heard. He hums in response, "It does sound interesting."

You turn to face him and ask, "Want to read it with me? I could start over."

Wonwoo rests his hands on your waist as you talk. "Are you sure? Reading it over again doesn't sound fun."

You nod reassuringly. "I'm sure! Besides, I'm only like twenty pages in." You wait for his response.

He nods, "Alright then." You grin at him and take his hand, guiding him to your bedroom.

The gentle sound of rain drizzles against the window, creating a soothing backdrop to your shared silence.

You're both comfortably tangled in bed, feeling his chest rise and fall as he breathes.

"Isn't the book good so far?" you ask. He chuckles lightly, tilting his head. “I’m still trying to figure out if I can trust the second best friend. There’s something off about him.”

"Right? I think he might be the killer!" you exclaim, pointing at the page as if to emphasize the character.

He chuckles again, wrapping his arms a little tighter around you. "Now that I think about it, he's always around when the girl finds pieces of evidence."

You nod, enjoying how invested Wonwoo is in the story. Resting your head on his chest, you continue to read.

As you delve deeper into the book, you begin to feel tired, lulled by the rhythm of the rain in the background.

Gradually, you fall asleep, with Wonwoo remaining oblivious to your quiet state.

He gasps in shock as he figures out the plot twist. "He was the killer! We knew it!" He raises an eyebrow when he realizes you're not responding.

Wonwoo turns slightly to face you and scoffs. "Really? I guess I'll just have to pretend I didn't read it." He speaks softly, knowing you wouldn’t want to hear the details if he’s already finished the book.

He places the book beside the bed along with his glasses before kissing the top of your head and saying goodnight.

Sequel You and Wonwoo are both resting on the couch, watching TV.

"By the way, did you finish the book last night?" you ask, looking up at him.

Wonwoo shakes his head. "No, I noticed you were sleeping, so I didn't finish it," he replies, lying.

"Really? Oh…well, I woke up in the middle of the night because I couldn't stop thinking about it. But guess what? You wouldn't believe who the killer was!" you respond excitedly.

He looks over nervously. "Who was it?" He pretends to be curious.

"The guy we were talking about earlier—the best friend!" you reveal dramatically.

Wonwoo covers his mouth with his hand, his eyes wide. "Really?!"

You pause, sinking into the couch. "You read it, didn’t you?" You don’t buy his poor acting.

He sighs in defeat. "I'm sorry, Doll. I thought you were awake, so I kept reading…"

You giggle at his small pout. "It's fine, I guess. I did wake up to read it without you too, so…I suppose we're even."

He smiles. "I guess so." You sit closer to him again and look at the TV. "By the way, you're a terrible actor."

You both burst into laughter, the sound echoing joyfully throughout the house.

Reqs are open!!

Taglist!!

@jjunie-0 @black-swan-blog27 @allieyaaa @honglynights @bath1lda @hanniehae-yoon @wonunonu

[kikyoupdates]

Otherworldly Attraction ⭑˚🔮⭑ 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛

yandere!jjk x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

You don't know how or why, but you've been isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. Although your first instinct is to stay away from the plot, you've been blessed with an abnormal amount of cursed energy, and for better or worse, you find yourself sucked into the storyline. You decide that you may as well use your newfound powers for the greater good, and if you're lucky, you might succeed in rewriting some of the characters' fates. But it turns out that your presence in this world is an even bigger deal than you first thought, and soon, everyone wants to make you theirs.

previous | story masterlist | next

“Hehe.”   

You stare down at your brand-new selfie—taken with none other than Gojo Satoru . He’s smiling and posing while making peace signs with his fingers, and on your end, you’ve got a stupidly wide grin on your face, looking like you’ve just won the lottery. Which, in all fairness, you kind of did .   

“There you go,” Gojo hums, then he stops to cross his arms for a moment. “But why the selfie request all of a sudden? I’ll admit, I’m pretty popular in the world of jujutsu sorcerers, but you shouldn’t know about any of that.”   

“I don’t,” you nod. “I just think you’re really hot—I mean, really cool. Y-Yeah. You just seem really cool.”   

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Fushiguro staring at you in disgust.   

Goddammit. That dude must have an absolutely terrible impression of you so far.   

“Very true,” Gojo grins, swiping his hair back like some kind of L’Oréal shampoo model. “I am pretty cool, if I do say so myself.”   

Fushiguro looks even more disgusted now.   

Gojo claps his hands together. “Anyways! Time to head out. Take one last moment to make sure you’re not forgetting anything, because once we’re there, well… I can’t guarantee when you’ll be able to come back.”   

It’s a good thing your parents aren’t actual parents, because it’s safe to say that there’s no longer anything tying you to this place. Of course, you’re terrified of what the future may hold, but you made the decision to be brave, and to try to help people in the process. If you play your cards right, maybe lives can be spared. Maybe not everyone has to die.   

So, yeah. You’re ready to leave. You’re ready to start this new chapter.   

And you also now have a selfie with Gojo Satoru. So far, life is pretty good.   

The trip to Tokyo takes a couple hours by train, but fortunately, you’ve got Itadori to keep you company the whole time. You try to engage Fushiguro in conversation as well, but he mostly keeps to himself and just stares out the window without saying anything. It doesn’t help that he’s clearly suspicious of you, but whatever. Not much you can do about it right now.   

Some time passes, and eventually, you reach your destination. Fushiguro separates from the group and goes off on his own to receive treatment for his injuries, so you’re left behind with Gojo and Itadori as you venture further into the mountains. 

“I can’t believe this is really Tokyo,” Itadori marvels.  

“Even Tokyo’s like this on the outskirts,” Gojo brushes off. “More importantly, Yuji, you’ve got an interview with the principal right away. If you mess up, you might get rejected, so do your best, okay? No pressure.”   

“Huh? Does that mean I’ll get executed right away?!”   

“What a disappointment. So, you’re not even the leader?”   

A familiar voice. You freeze up at the sound of it, unsurprised to find Sukuna’s mouth on the side of Itadori’s cheek. A partial manifestation, or whatever the hell you might call that. Either way, it gives you the creeps.   

“A hierarchy not based purely on strength is boring, if you ask me,” Sukuna chuckles.   

Itadori slaps his palm over his cheek in a hurry to shut Sukuna up. “Sorry about that. He pops out sometimes. I can’t always help it.”  

Unfortunately, Sukuna refuses to disappear, and this time, he manifests on the back of Itadori’s hand instead.   

“You really did a number on me earlier. I’m letting you know right now. Once I make this boy’s body completely mine, you’ll be the first one I kill!”   

That stinky old bastard is just running his mouth (quite literally), so you’re not really fazed.   

At least, not until he turns his attention to you.  

“And you ,” Sukuna mutters. “The strange girl. You never answered my question before. What are you? What in the world is going on with your cursed energy? It’s bothersome. Hurry up and give me a straight answer, or you’ll regret it.”   

“Ugh, again ?” Itadori fumes, stomping his foot in frustration. “Go away, already! You’re so annoying! And leave [Name] alone!”   

Fortunately, Itadori manages to fully suppress him this time, putting an end to Sukuna’s incessant yapping. Dude is seriously in love with the sound of his own voice.   

Unfortunately, Gojo already heard everything he said loud and clear.   

“Sukuna appears to have a fixation on you,” Gojo remarks, pressing his hand to his chin. “Well, I guess it’s not really that surprising, considering the ridiculous amount of cursed energy you’re constantly emitting. It’s obvious that you’re not a sorcerer because you don’t seem to know how to control it, but in terms of sheer capacity, it far surpasses that of an ordinary human.”   

“N-Neat,” you reply stupidly.   

Gojo stares at you for a few moments, then throws his head back and starts laughing.   

“Haha! Sure, I guess you could call it that. Being strong is pretty neat, without a doubt. I was going to say how honored I am to be the target of Ryomen Sukuna, but it looks like he’s even more interested in you, so you’ve got me beat in that regard.”   

“I’m not honored at all. I want nothing to do with that nasty guy.”   

Gojo laughs again. “Yeah, I bet. I can only imagine how confused you must be right now. Not to mention freaked out.”   

“So, is Sukuna really that famous?” Itadori asks.   

“Yes,” Gojo nods. “Ryomen Sukuna. He’s a demon of lore with four arms and two faces. But the truth is that he was actually a human who existed, although it was well over a thousand years ago. In the golden age of jujutsu, sorcerers gathered up all their might to challenge him, but ultimately, they failed to defeat him entirely. Crowned with the title of Sukuna, we couldn’t even destroy his grave wax, and he thus traversed the ages after his death as a cursed object. Without a doubt, he is the King of Curses.”   

“So, who’s stronger, you or him?”   

“Hm. Well, if Sukuna were to regain all his power, then it’d probably be pretty draining.”   

“Would you lose?”   

Gojo slows his steps for a moment, then tilts his head towards both of you, a cocky grin plastered across his lips.   

“Nah,” he chuckles. “I’d win.”   

Oh my god. I really got to see him deliver that iconic line. And he looked hot as hell while doing it.   

You stare at him with hearts in your eyes, already in full fangirl mode (which is pretty much your default mode, to be fair), but Gojo beckons the two of you onwards before you can get lost in your thoughts.   

He leads you inside one of the buildings, where you’re greeted by a familiar face.   

“You’re late, Satoru. Eight minutes late. Not quite enough to chastise you for, but I thought I told you to fix that bad habit of yours.”  

It’s the principal, of course—Yaga Masamichi. He’s currently in the middle of crafting a new puppet, and he’s also got more than a handful of them already surrounding him. At first glance, they’re adorable, but you know that their appearance is awfully deceptive, and they’re a lot stronger than they look.   

Poor Itadori’s about to get bitch-slapped by one of those puppets soon.   

“That old dude’s randomly making really cute stuff,” Itadori whispers in your ear.   

“If it’s not enough for you to get mad about, then cut me some slack, will ya?” Gojo sighs. “I figured you’d just be making your dolls anyway. Eight minutes is no big deal.”   

Principal Yaga gestures towards Itadori. “That’s him, right? Sukuna’s vessel. And the girl beside him… must be the other student you mentioned. The one with the abnormal amount of cursed energy.”   

“My name is Itadori Yuji!” your friend introduces, bowing his head in a hurry. “I like girls like Jennifer Lawrence! It’s nice to meet you!”   

Shit. Is it my turn now?   

“I-I’m [Last Name] [Name],” you say, bowing as well. “And I like, um… I guess I like cool guys. Like Gojo. And funny guys, like Ryan Reynolds. I also think Timothée Chalamet is pretty cute—”   

“Stop, stop.” Principal Yaga presses a palm to his forehead and exhales loudly. “I never asked either of you to start listing your personal preferences. Cut it out, already. And why was Satoru’s name randomly thrown in there?”   

“I can’t help that I’m extremely cool,” Gojo shrugs.   

“Satoru, that’s enough out of you. More importantly, why did you come here?” Principal Yaga asks, now addressing Itadori.   

Itadori looks confused, of course. “Uh… I came here for an interview. I’m pretty sure.”   

“But why Jujutsu High?”   

“To learn… jujutsu? And stuff?”   

“I mean beyond that. What do you hope to find once you’ve studied curses and learned how to exorcize them?”   

This time, Itadori glances towards you, almost as if he’s seeking some kind of guidance. “Beyond that…? Well, I mean, I’m gonna collect all of Sukuna’s remaining fingers. It’s dangerous to just leave them as is.”   

“But why ?” Principal Yaga presses.   

Gojo chuckles and taps you on the shoulder. “This is probably going to go on for a little while. Come. Let’s go wait over there. The principal likes to ramble every now and then.”   

You offer Itadori an encouraging smile. You obviously know what comes next, but that also means that you have full confidence in him. You know that he’ll pass Principal Yaga’s test and get accepted into Jujutsu High. It doesn’t seem you’ll be put through any interviews yourself… probably because you’re not Sukuna’s vessel, but you expect that most people are probably going to be pretty wary of you anyway. Since you’re an anomaly and all that. And since Sukuna couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut.   

So, you watch. You watch as Itadori gets smacked around by one of Principal Yaga’s puppets, all the while having to answer the questions he keeps throwing at him nonstop. It’s definitely not fun to have to see your friend get beat up, but again, thanks to the knowledge you have of this world, you’re not worried. And it’s certainly not like anyone’s life is at risk right now.   

That won’t always be the case, though.   

“You pass,” Principal Yaga eventually states, and he cracks a small smile, even offering Itadori his hand so that he can stand up.   

Itadori smiles back at him. “Thank you. It’s nice to properly meet—”   

He promptly gets pummeled by the puppet again.   

“Oops,” Principal Yaga mumbles. “Sorry. I forgot to stop the incantation.”  

“Looks like everything went well,” Gojo muses. He peers down at you curiously. “But I have to admit, I’m a bit surprised. You didn’t look concerned at all. Weren’t you worried that he’d fail? In which case that would mean that his execution date would be pushed up.”  

You shake your head. “I believe in Itadori. I knew he’d be able to pull it off. And… I believe in you too, sensei. You said you’re the one that convinced the higher-ups in the first place, right? I can tell that you’ll protect Itadori. You wouldn’t let him be executed. I trust you completely.”  

You grin ear-to-ear, and even though you can’t see it, Gojo’s eyes briefly widen, underneath his black blindfold. Of course, it’s not the first time people have relied on him. Being the strongest jujutsu sorcerer there is, it comes with the territory. But it’s strange that you’re already willing to put your full faith in him, despite not knowing anything of this new realm you’ve just ventured into.   

Admittedly, it’s rather endearing.  

“You’re exactly right,” Gojo chuckles, reaching out to gently pat your head. “Leave it all to me. I don’t intend to let any of my students get hurt on my watch. It’ll probably all seem overwhelming at first, but you won’t be alone. I promise.”   

Gojo Satoru is patting my head! %$%^*@^$!*!  

Your brain short-circuits for a few moments, and you briefly think that, honestly, you could probably die happy right now.   

Itadori approaches you while you’re still stuck in fangirl mode, and fortunately, you snap out of it in time to congratulate him for passing the principal’s test. Meanwhile, Gojo and Principal Yaga step off to the side.   

“The boy is one thing, but the girl, [Name],” Principal Yaga frowns. “I’ve never come across cursed energy like hers before. And you say that Sukuna himself expressed interest in her?”   

Gojo nods. “It’s even weirder than no one’s noticed her before. With that kind of energy, you would think she’d have stood out a long time ago. But she clearly hasn’t been trained in the ways of jujutsu. It’s almost like she sprung up one day, completely out of nowhere. But surely that kind of cursed energy can’t just randomly appear on the spot. It would make sense if she’d been born with this kind of power and had cultivated it over the years. Do you think it’s possible one of the great clans have been hiding her all this time?”  

“I suppose we can’t rule it out, but it wouldn’t make any sense. If that were the case, she would surely have been trained from a young age.”  

“Well, we’ll just have to look into it, I guess. It’s fine. Better to have her nearby so we can keep an eye on her. I knew from the moment I saw her that I couldn’t just let her go.”   

Gojo stares at you from afar, watching as you and Itadori happily converse. The two of you are so carefree and innocent. You have yet to be exposed to the horrors that the world of jujutsu has to offer. He knows he won’t be able to spare either of you from the bitter reality of things, but all the same, he’s going to fight for your futures.  

After a brief pause, Gojo smiles, then claps his hand together.   

“Alright! With that out of the way, let me show you guys to your dorms.”

“Perfect!” Itadori grins, stepping back to admire his handiwork. Namely, the giant poster of Jennifer Lawrence he just put up on the wall. “Man, these dorms are huge, huh? I wasn’t expecting us to have so much space!”   

“They’re nice,” you agree. “My new dorm is even bigger than my bedroom.”   

Both in this world, and back in the real world.   

“I’m just relieved I was able to make it through the principal’s interview. I wasn’t expecting those dolls of his to come to life! That was pretty crazy, huh?”   

“Y-Yeah. Who could’ve seen that one coming…?”   

“Anyways, Gojo was saying they’re gonna need me to help locate the rest of Sukuna’s fingers,” Itadori continues, adjusting the poster slightly. “‘Cause I’m not just a vessel, but some kind of radar, too. Honestly, I don’t get what’s happening with my body, but I guess there’s not much I can do about it at this point. I really don’t think Sukuna’s gonna cooperate, though. I doubt we’ll be able to come to an agreement that easily.”   

“I’m sure he wants to find the rest of his fingers, because he’s trying to regain his full strength. There’s no way he’d miss out on an opportunity to become more powerful. But… yeah. Be careful,” you nod gravely. “He definitely can’t be trusted.”   

“Why’s he so obsessed with you, anyway? Everyone keeps going on about how you have a whole bunch of cursed energy. Have you always been able to see curses and stuff?”   

“Uh…”   

You’re not sure how to respond. Technically, yes , as in, you’ve been able to see them from the moment you materialized in this world, but you’ve only been here for a solid few weeks. Perhaps you’re better off being honest this time.   

“Only recently,” you admit. “I think I started being able to see them roughly a few weeks ago. I noticed them right about when I transferred into our old high school. There were a couple of small curses hanging around and clinging to people from time to time. But I thought I was going crazy, so I didn’t mention it to anyone.”  

“Damn. That must have been scary. Oh,” he realizes. “Is that why you said you weren’t interested in joining the Occult Club? Because of all the weird stuff you kept seeing?”   

“Um, pretty much. I wasn’t sure whether or not it was all in my head, but I kind of wanted to keep my distance, just to be on the safe side. Sorry. I would’ve been upfront from the start, but… obviously, it’s a bit hard to believe. Especially since you weren’t able to see the curses with your own eyes.”   

Itadori smiles. “You don’t have to apologize. I get that you must have had a lot on your mind, and you’re right that it’d be a pretty difficult topic to bring up. Anyways, don’t worry! I’ll keep Sukuna away from you. It sounds like things are gonna get pretty complicated, but I’m gonna collect all those fingers so that no one else has to get hurt. Including you.”   

“Are you saying you’ll protect me?” you chuckle.   

“Of course! If you ever get scared, don’t hesitate to use me as a shield!”   

Itadori proudly flexes his bicep, and you giggle in response. You have no doubts that he’ll be looking after you along the way, because that’s just the kind of guy he is, but hopefully… you’ll be able to protect him too. You’d like to make his painful life at least a little bit easier.   

“By the way, you asked Gojo for a selfie earlier. I didn’t realize you liked him that much. I guess he is pretty cool, objectively speaking.” Itadori scrunches up his brows. “Is he the kind of guy girls are usually into?”   

“I think it depends. Girls like all kinds of guys. Especially strong, caring guys like you,” you grin.   

You were just being honest and trying to hype him up a bit. Itadori’s a friendly, extroverted guy, after all. You don’t even remember him ever looking embarrassed when you first watched the anime.  

Which is why you’re surprised to see him blushing.  

“R-Really?” he chuckles awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “I feel like you’re just saying that. But thanks! I appreciate it. While we’re on the topic, I bet most guys would have a crush on you , [Name]! Because you’re so pretty and nice!”   

If there was water in your mouth, you would have probably spat it out right about now.   

You start melting into a little puddle of embarrassment, but thankfully, Fushiguro steps into the room and saves you from some of the humiliation.  

“You guys are so loud,” he grumbles. “And seriously, why’d they put you next door to me? There are a bunch of empty rooms to choose from.”   

“Oh, hey, Fushiguro!” Itadori waves. “Glad to see you look better now. Also, Gojo was saying it’d be more lively and fun if all our dorms were close by.”   

“Classes and missions are more than enough,” Fushiguro mutters, rolling his eyes in annoyance. He stops just in front of you, and of course, that crease in between his brows deepens.  

You strain a smile. “Um… yes? Is there something you wanted to say to me?”   

“Not really. You’re just kind of confusing, if I’m being honest. And you’re weirdly obsessed with Gojo.”   

“Only because he’s hot,” you protest. “I mean—dammit! Because he’s cool ! I like him because he’s cool, okay?!”   

Fushiguro makes no effort to hide his disapproval, and you let out a heavy sigh, eventually hanging your head in defeat. It’s no surprise he doesn’t trust you yet. Your circumstances are far from ordinary, and you even told Itadori outright to eat Sukuna’s finger. If you were in his position, you’d probably have your doubts too.  

Itadori taps both you and Fushiguro on the shoulders. “Hey, guys. [Name]’s selfie with Gojo earlier got me thinking. Now that we’re all gonna be classmates and dorm buddies, we should commemorate this with a photo or something. Right?”   

“I like that idea,” you smile.   

“I don’t ,” Fushiguro grimaces.  

“Okay, let’s all take a selfie together!” Itadori exclaims, and he proceeds to pull you and Fushiguro close—despite the latter’s protests—then he uses your phone to snap a picture of all three of you.   

Just like that, you have a new picture saved. Fushiguro is scowling irritably, of course, and your smile looks a little dorky because it all happened so spur-of-the-moment, but you decide that it’s good as it is. It makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.   

“I like this picture even more than the one I took with Gojo,” you beam. “I’m gonna make it my lock screen right now.”   

Fushiguro blinks. He wasn’t expecting such a bright, infectious smile. It’s just a selfie. Is it really worth making such a big deal over? He’s not sure why, but something about your expression makes it difficult for him to maintain his grumpy demeanor.   

Even though he doesn’t really want to admit it… you’re kind of cute.   

[rwuffles]

okay, so, calico cove has gotten me mushy — because of people crying over my notes, me getting emotional over the notes i got, and the community as a whole. blame them for this heartfelt mushfest, i guess; this is an appreciation letter because i can't keep my big fat mouth shut ever!

to the mogai community as a whole: thank you. for, what? i don't think i could get into the specifics if i tried. we are, to be quite frank, a mess at times — discourse and drama and pettiness galore — but god i'd be lying to say i don't love it anyways. i found the community when i was stuck in a really toxic friend group, and when i was starting to hide parts of myself in order to fit in / not get bullied. it didn't really work. but, i found everyone here. people who ided similarly to me, people who also hoarded stuff, and god i fucking adored all of the coining and npt blogs. it's been a really long ride, and i'm still trying to figure myself out as we go along, but i wouldn't be, well, xuân if it weren't for everything that this community has shown me. coining and flag-making have been there for me when i didn't have words to describe how i felt, and when i needed people who'd accept me for being me; it's shown me that i shouldn't settle for anything less than that. everything i do on this blog, really, is a love letter to the community as a whole and me trying to give back everything its given me, and i hope that's clear with how much love goes into everything i create.

and, god, don't even get me started on how much i adore everyone i've met through the community!

some people i'm not quite as close with as i used to be, and some people i don't talk with at all anymore, but i have to be honest when i say that i adore and am grateful towards everyone in the community i've met during my time within it.

to @vampitsm: what sort of appreciation letter would this be if it didn't include you? you've been my friend since, what, one of my old old blogs? it's been one whole year since we've become friends; can you believe that? it was actually right around this time that we started gaia's — or rather, sweetshop. when we first met, i'll be honest and say that i didn't think we'd stay friends long. i'd always held a fairly pessimistic view of the people around me — assuming they'd leave or i'd drop them one way or another. but, you didn't. you'd stayed, you were my friend, you sided with me time and time again. at some point, i found myself wanting to be your friend — even though we already were friends! i'll be honest and say that a lot of the time, when i do things, i hope that i'll make you laugh. you and your opinion mean a lot to me, and i always look forward to the next time we talk.

to @fangpunk: there's so much i could say about you, you little faggot (silly). when i'd first joined mogaiblr, you were one of our inspirations — we looked up to you, wanted to be your mutual, and just generally thought y'all were one of the coolest guys out there. who woulda thought that we'd have the friendship we do today? you're an amazing friend, i think you're one of the funniest people we know and you've always got something to say — in a good way! i love your input on every situation, and especially when izuku isn't scared to put his foot down in our place; you make us less scared to be ourself and encourage us to be less of a pushover. so, thank you!

to @cloverpilled: you're a real dork. my dork, though. maybe i should've realized i didn't quite just see you as a friend when i was vying for your attention and calling you 'my favorite' all the time; but, it worked out in the end, didn't it? everything you make — flags, rentries, layouts, etc. — are always wonderful and i still get giddy seeing you put 'taken' in your rentries and knowing that's me. i've always loved our friendship, and i can't fathom a world without it, especially not now that we're boyfriends. i know you're not the best with words — comforting, being open, all that jazz — and i've never minded it. really, i think you're one of the sweetest people in the world and you always try your best even if it's not in the most forward or obvious manner.

to shua: you. you have been in the fucking psych ward for the past... 4-5 months? i miss you so much, dude; i'm so happy you're going to be out in 2 days. i can't wait to spend the rest of the holidays with you and everyone else in gaia's. you're an amazing person, to be entirely honest, and i miss spending time with you. you've been my friend since before i was here on rwuffles. do you know how fucking long that is? i've looked up to you since forever, and i'm so happy that we're friends. i cherish you and i cherish our friendship as a whole more than i think i could ever express, sometimes i can't believe that we've been friends for so long, but we have! to another year of you & i!

to hadiyah: i have no idea what your current (?) tumblr account is, to be entirely honest, so i hope this finds its way to you one way or another. you're such an amazing person, i think you're so funny and i love talking with you — it's always a treat. sure, you aren't quite as active in gaia's anymore; i don't mind. i still consider you a really good friend of ours. you've been our friend since... the beginning of gaia's as well, i believe? so, really, i couldn't be more grateful to have you in my life and to have had you as a friend for so long! thank you, so much.

to @sevvys: sev. you. you are so cool and awesome and i love talking to you. thank you for being our friend — we don’t even remember how long we’ve been friends for. but, thank you. to be entirely honest, you’re an older sibling figure in our lives and we love being able to hang out and make stupid jokes; i think you’re really funny and i’ve always looked up to you in a way if that doesn’t sound weird? i don’t talk to you as much as i wish i did, and i want that to change, but you’re always super level-headed in my opinion and really good at handling discussions i guess. i don’t know how to express how cool i think you are. you’re just a really reliable, caring person i think

to @rabidbatboy: i think i’ve looked up to you for… an absurdly long amount of time. when you first started coining, you were one of the only people coining less “cutesy” stuff; it was definitely a breath of fresh air and we found ourselves super excited to see any new terms you’d come up with. to be honest? we still love everything you coin, even if we aren’t quite in the fandoms you’re coining for — plus i just think you’re awesome as a person. i love talking to you, as i’ve said to lots of people, you’re super funny and i always look forward to talking to you next! you’re not quite as active in gaia’s anymore, and i know you’re not the best with words, so i don’t expect anything grand in response; i just want you to know that i really care about you and i’ve always appreciated your presence.

to eddie: that’s right, oldie! you get a section, too! because i consider you a really good friend of ours, even if i don’t talk to you very much and you aren’t (?) quite in the mogai community. i really like talking to you and i like our back and forth banter a lot — it feels like you’re an older sibling of ours a lot of the time. i like being the annoying little brother to you, and i really hope that we can keep being friends. it feels really weird being genuine and expressing how much you matter to me considering how often we tend to jokingly butt heads, but i just need you to know that i really love our friendship and i can’t imagine it being any other way. i hope your holidays are good, ya old fuck (affectionate).

and, this section isn't quite for people who are in the mogai community. rather, friends & loved ones i've known since before then that i love with all my heart and that have supported me throughout everything — discovering myself and realizing how much i adore these labels. there aren't enough words to explain how much i love you all and appreciate your staying by my side and not abandoning me.

to elipse, my dear boyfriend: thank you. you’ve supported me through everything — even when it felt like everyone else was against me and i was left on my own again. you are my dearest, my beloved, my forever and my eternity; i’m not scared to be mushy about that. it’s been a wonderful two years by your side, and i hope for it to be many more. you’ve loved me through my ups and downs, my wrongs and rights, my weirdest moments and all the cute stuff in-between. you’ve been my number one supporter — especially when i was first starting to become a mogai coiner — and you’ve remained my number one supporter since. you’re the most wonderful boyfriend i could ever ask for: supportive, sweet, considerate, and amazing. i love you. 

to caelan, my lovely girlfriend: you!! you’ve been my best friend for seven years. do you know how long that is? i’m 16! i was 9 when we met! i’ve almost known you and akemi for longer than i haven’t! that is both a terrifying and wonderful thought: to have someone by your side for so long that you can recall more of your life with them than without it. i adore everything about you, and i’m so sorry if it seems like i’m a bit awkward or not the best conversationalist sometimes; everything about you is amazing and i just feel like a little wet dog near you somedays. i miss you so much, and i hope your break from fronting is going well, and that you know i love you and am so excited to talk to you again when you’re back. 

to akemi, one of my bestest and oldest friends: a lot of what i said in caelan’s note is what i’d say to you. we’ve known eachother for so long, that it’s hard to imagine my life if you hadn’t been in it. actually, i think my entire life would’ve taken a different course if we hadn’t met on that fnaf minecraft roleplay on hypixel — can you believe it? how such little things manage to make such big impacts on our lives and who we are as people? i know we don’t talk as much anymore, but, as i’ve said before, i consider you one of my dearest friends and you mean the complete world to me. so, thank you for having stayed by my side for so long, akemi.

to ice, my amazing sister: you!!! the sister ever!!! you’ve always taken on an older sibling role in my life since we met, and i think you just tend to slot into that role perfectly; thank you for always being there for me and taking care of me. i don’t think i’d have made it this far without you being there and reassuring me every step of the way. we might not be super close, or talk as much as i’d like us to, but i really enjoy your company and love talking with you. i’m just a little bit of an awkward guy. when you send me stuff on pinterest, it always makes me happy and i love checking and seeing that i have a new message from you. i can’t believe we’ve been friends for — how long is it, at this point — six years? i think around that time. that’s unbelievable to me.

to smg, my one & only brother: the stupidest most dorkiest most infuriating brother i could ever have the pleasure of knowing and being able to call my brother. that’s what you are. you and your stupid brainrot and stupid jokes and stupid everything — i could never imagine a world where you aren’t my brother. even if you act like you don’t care a lot of the time, you make sure we know that you do care (even if it’s in your own, stupid little way). i love being your friend and i’m so grateful i’ve had you in my life for so long. you are the first and currently the only online friend who i’ve been able to meet irl, and i hope to be able to see you again sometime soon. even if you never quite got the labels that i’d talk about or ramble about, and even if you might get on my nerves sometimes, you’re still my brother at the end of the day and i wouldn’t want it any other way.

next up, we have people who i don’t quite talk to as much anymore who’s presences in my life i really appreciate. of course, i’m not sure if all of them still have tumblr blogs — most being deactivated — or if they even really want to hear how i care about them. so, really, i’ll leave this brief and say that this part is addressed to: ghost, mimsy, and woodbyne. thank you guys for having played such a large role in our lives at one point or another, and i wish you all the best even if we don’t talk as much nowadays. 

i don’t think that i can dedicate a paragraph to everyone, even if i really wish i could, as i don’t think most people are going to be willing to read through this whole post with the length that it’s getting to. so, i’m just gonna tag a bunch of people? just to let you guys know that you’re loved in every which way even if i have a shitty time showing it to all of you? 

the sillies ever who are so kind and sweet and i enjoy everytime they send me asks, reblog, leave a reply, or just interact with me in general: @ainoshonen @smilepilled @angeltism @zoeynovie

coiners that are actually a lot smaller than i thought they were that i think are so cool and need more recognition: @acronym-chaos @nostalgiagender

OTHER coiners that i think deserve recognition for the things they do and the stuff they create even if i didn’t think they were big at first: @sylviestial @pupcoins @love-letterworm @jiiamp @boingogender @kitsflagz

other BIG coiners that i look up to and have looked up to for a long time — whether we’re currently actually friends (which i still can’t get over), we don’t talk a lot if we do know eachother, or that i haven’t met personally: @idwl @kiruliom @webby-mogai @gender-mailman @puriette-archived @lunentity @the-astropaws @lepus-fangs

everyone who participated in mogai team-up, which, i can’t get over the fact we’ve managed to hit 1k followers because holy SHIT that’s a lot of fucking people, but thank you guys for coming together to help me celebrate it and let this fucking monster of an event (very positive) happen in the first place: @daybreakthing @floraeth @kylertism @robofox-mogai @dragonpuff17 @novaurora @flutteringwings-coining @xyrthemost @catboy-autism @cannibalisticcoinz

if i didn't tag you... uh. our memory is shit, sorry! i tried to remember everyone and i'm literally going to cry if i forgot someone

finally, to everyone in calico cove: thank you. for all of you coming together to help me create a community that’s so loving, so sweet and accepting that it has managed to become a safe space for a plethora of people that i’d have never imagined it to. you’re all lovely, and i’m so glad to be able to share a space with everyone and anyone that’s there. calico cove as a whole just makes me super emotional — cheesy, i know — but it’s essentially one of my dreams come true. it’s been an aspiration of mine to be able to create safe spaces with people wherever i go, and to foster an environment where people feel safe to be themselves without ridicule or fear of judgement. i’m so glad that i’ve been able to create that in calico cove. to hear you guys say or admit that it’s a safe space for you makes me emotional everytime, even if i’m not fully able to convey that to you all. 

thank you to everyone in the mogai community; have a happy holidays!

[rametarin]

It's because there's a political sleight of hand at play here.

So say you're some communistic piece of trash. What you really want is a conversation about how everything is classes and according to your big book of social "science," everything is absolutely about different classes either being the top or bottom and the bottom is an oppressed underdog victim, yay for victim, boo for oppressor. So according to their ideology, only socialism can fix this system that it insists everybody else uses as the basis for everything, and only socialism can fix it. You know, like how only St. Patrick and Catholicism could remove the snakes from Ireland.

Well, you need to tailor and sell your perspective to people that will listen. To do that, you capitalize on existing social problems, co-opt their identities and greviences and then turn your ideology into their narrative.

In the United States, there is and always has been that stain from race based slavery and eurocentrism/supremacism. While ethnosupremacism is not unknown on the world, it is/was the dominant force in the United States, where a great deal of infrastructure, money and human capital exists, and something socialists dearly want to co-opt in the name of socialism (and for some, then into communism.)

And on the other end, you have black people in America. They, also, had an ethnocentrist/supremacist population, but they were also a minority. Separatists that wanted to make their own separate nation and secede from the states without giving up the regional occupation, access to the US and etc. In short, people that have wanted more than just equality and personhood, but their own version of separate but equal- in their favor. They are no different from the Richard Spencers or David Dukes of the world in ideals, beliefs and function, and at no time is that more blatant and brazen than in a post-slavery, post-civil rights era society where men are equals and racism (positive or negative) is federally and state-wise illegal and discouraged, and punished with stigma.

This group still comes to the table with the belief that the trans-atlantic slave trade was the worst thing to happen, robbed black people of black independence from other races and groups, and believe they are owed that independence back from the rest of this society- which since it's not majority black or black owned, they will reject as white and white supremacist. It's not black, therefore, it's oppressive to the black.

And the black people that do not feel this way disagree with that but also, it's part of the black community and culture, and excising it is difficult to impossible. And in some areas of the US, the solidarity and comfort is either important, or necessary, if not just security and protection. Not unlike any ethnic enclave.

It's this population that the socialists like to roll up on and co-opt their struggles and the history. Socialists and communists in general hate ethnic separatism, however, they know how to degrade and co-opt movements and identities in generational waves. Capitalizing on the black community to try and get them to use Marxist lexicon and social arguments to describe and outline their greviances and mix telling real history with the generous interpretations of "Oppressed class vs. oppressor."

In the US, they use these story telling sleights of hands a lot. And we saw one up above. First going on about how "the slave trade" was white America's fault, and also greater Europe's fault. They emphasize that era, and leave you to erroneously conclude that there was no such thing as an African slave trade before Europe, in all their European supremacism, decided they wanted slaves and sub-human classes to toil for them as un-people. So they just randomls hit Africa with their technological supremacy and started netting black people, herding them into boats and then chaining them up, destroying their identities and culture and making them do labor as placid and ignorant victims.

They gladly allow you to remain just ignorant enough that you think there was no pre-existing slave trade and the respective brutality among native sub-Saharan Africans, they omit the Arabs and Berbers entirely, they talk about the numbers of black people sent to the Americas and leave out only about 10% of the total sent over landed in NORTH AMERICA, they try and make it seem like white people as Europeans just decided to get an identity or existence when they invented enslaving black people.

It's a very Afrocentrist view of history and the genesis of culture, and it's a very selectively cultivated one by educators that SHOULD know better, but they need black people and their stories and their support. And they get away with it, because of how many of them are in the American education system, free to omit things and emphasize things in curriculum and filibust conversations away from inconvenient, rounding truths that challenge Marxist interpretations of American history.

And then because it looks like you're just arguing against black personhood or trying to shrug off responsibility for terrible things done to black people, they put the spotlight on you to make you look like the worst kind of supremacist apologist, and have their little circle jerks and vagueposts talking about you to retain narrative.

The problem that happens, of course, is when you maintain such things as, "The Oppressor Class doesn't get to speak now! The Oppressed are talking!" then you get minority historians that point out these things and oh no something strange is happening to the narrative. People stop believing the very polished lies and start losing faith in what they're being taught by some very specific slanted bias from this very tainted perspective, and connecting the dots.

They NEED to connect slavery to Europeans and white people, they NEED to make it seem like it is comparable to and worse than the Holocaust, they NEED to make young black people upset and offended and feel like they're under attack from the outside by a hostile and oppressive majority state that outnumbers them and wants them miscegenated away. They NEED this narrative available for young tribalistic people, with the justifications of being minorities and adopting the language of Marxist dialectics, to validate their own insular views of themselves as a separate and distinct culture and community while also validating the Marxist interpretations to do it.

And they need to do that, because they marry white supremacism with capitalism, and claim the two are inextricably linked, and that to destroy white people is to destroy capitalism, and vice versa. Getting them invested in that as a matter of self-interest to how they see themselves, the world around them, the problems faced, their source and how to solve them.

THAT is why they are so keen on taking that window of history, shining a light on it and going, "White people are the devil, black people are the protagonist victims of this story, and the ending involves elimination of capitalism and inequality."

Also, slaves were usually bought secondhand from other Africans. Dahomey based their entire economy on “harvesting” slaves.

And we have the classic “bbbbut Atlantic slavery was WORSE than the other slavery!” This wasn’t the only genius, either.

“When the comic said ‘the slave trade’, it actually meant the Atlantic slave trade, specifically, not the many, many other slave trades. I honestly think White people created the Atlantic slave trade, and don’t realize Europeans just used an existing system.”

It’s kind of funny how these people only care about details and nuance* when it’s convenient.

* Which weren’t even in the comic, and still wouldn’t actually prove it right.

[aledethanlast]

Thinking about Robin Cross' mom cause like. Your little birdie goes missing and she comes back and it's a miracle but...that's not your little girl anymore. Your Robin was never this afraid of the world outside her bedroom door. Wasn't this suspicious of everyone outside her window. Didn't cry herself to sleep from guilt you couldn't (didn't even want to) imagine. Didn't shrink away from every pitying stare, didn't believe the whispers that called her a broken, guilty thing.

It takes years for a therapist to convince your Robin that she can fly again. It takes just as long for you to accept that the miracle you wanted is not the miracle you wanted.

It takes years of trying until another miracle happens, and you notice the way your daughter's eyes track the ball on the tv in the lounge when she's still in the kitchen and you go, Hey, worth a shot, right? so you ask her if she wants to play exy.

And the weirdest goddamn thing happens. Which is to say, Robin flies out of her seat, back hitting the wall like its trying to marry the plaster, like it always does when she's scared, the way her therapist says is her trying to assert to herself that from at least one angle, danger cannot come for her.

But then your husband and brother in law scream from the lounge as a goal is scored, and it's such a surprise that you don't turn to them fast enough to miss the way Robin's eyes do the same, and suddenly that wall slam doesn't actually seem like a no.

Six months later, you watch your daughter on her first game in a real field. She's absolutely terrible, far too shy to be proactive in her role, and you are so close to strangling the dad two rows over who says that aloud because you lost your daughter six years ago, and today you just got her back. (Also, god knows the rest of her team isn't much better, so maybe judge your own son first, jackass.)

Robin grows up and it's not perfect, its not the miracle you wanted, but damn if it ain't a good miracle anyway. She says she's happy and you choose to believe her. The therapist says if you give it time it'll all work out and you choose to believe that too. You just hope time means before graduation because, as it stands, you're not sure what'll happen when high school ends.

And then a stranger stranger to you walks into your home, and Robin invites him in, and he says I will give you as much time as you dare ask me for. And you ask, why. Why would you do this for her. And the man smiles, in a way that seems to surprise him as much as it does you, and he explains that actually, for once, it's not him. It's another kid everyone else declared broken who decided she's worth the effort.

This is when you realize miracles are bullshit. It's just people putting in the work. And if there is some unblemished, untraumatized Robin Cross out there soaring like she'd always imagined, well, happy travels. But tomorrow, she and her little birdie are getting in the car and driving seven hours down to Palmetto.

[genderqueerdykes]

this whole anti-transmasc shit is making me way more depressed than bs discourse should because for years i thought it was about us. Big US. all of us. I thought we were us. thats why it didnt matter that not a lot of the conversation about trans issues were about trans men, or that very few public figures who talked about trans issues were trans men. I thought it was enough that it was us. but apparently this whole time I wasnt included in that? apparently this whole time I was this like. half trans person who doesnt actually count as apart of the conversation? it really sucks ass.

honestly that's a great way to put it. it's bone chilling to realize how many people have been excluding you from the start, and are only trying to make it worse. this divide in the trans community is manufactured as hell. it's like you said, you thought it was about "us"- all of us. all trans people. but for some reason, there's this common online rhetoric that trans men aren't trans somehow? like being a trans man isn't "Actually trans" or you're being trans "wrong" somehow.

like how are we still perpetuating the idea that the only "right" way to be trans is to be a trans woman and everyone else is a tomboy, or a confused butch, or a crossdresser, or whatever the fuck. like we somehow still have people within the community who just deny up and down that trans men "count" as trans. what are we doing? this isn't community. it's bullies looking for fresh meat to target, and i've had enough.

i don't care if people assume shit about the trans male experience. i don't think that people believe that we instantly gain cishet male privilege (or gain it at all) and are basically cishet men and oppressors. that's just not how this shit works. we're still trans. we are a part of the trans community. you can't ignore us anymore. we're right here. and we're going to occupy the spaces we rightfully can. and we're going to keep talking about our experiences until it pisses off every last transandrophobe.

people who want to make an entire queer community about themselves are a detriment to those around them. people who think they're somehow the protagonist of a given community deserve to face pushback. we don't have to sit here and let people walk all over us anymore. this is what cishet society does to trans men. why should we have to get walked all over on in our own home? are people serious with this shit right now? you can't kick us out of our own home. we live here. we've always lived here.

[stellamancer]

notes: time is a construct that bten!reader no longer understands. anyway, yes hellow, late gojo birthday fic that i am pretending that i'm not posting on megumi's birthday LMAO.

takes place in the same universe as beyond the unending night, however reading that fic is not necessary, all you need to know is that reader has a CT that can rewind time. slight and implied reader x gojo if you're squinting. also. reader is very unreliable narrator (there are some things in the narration that gojo responds to because reader is unaware they said it aloud oops.) not proofread.

wc: 944

“Your birthday was a couple days ago?” 

Gojo tilts his head toward you, expression passive for a split second before a broad grin spreads across his face. “It was! How did you know! Wait, let me guess, you—”

“The students,” you supply flatly before he can make any outlandish suggestions regarding how you happened across the information. “Yuta-kun mentioned it.” 

There’s a slight pucker to Gojo’s lips, but it’s gone almost instantly as he remarks. “Oh Yuta… He’s always been an exemplary student! Even going so far as to remember his dear old teacher’s birthday…” 

You stare at Gojo. There’s a trap here. Bait. It’s not well hidden either, if his exaggerated tone is any indication. You consider telling him straight up: it’s not possible to remember something you never knew in the first place. But instead, you decide to indulge him. “Do people usually not remember?” 

Now that you say that, you find the words hard to believe. You can barely call yourself a part of jujutsu society, but there’s no denying that Gojo is something of a big deal. There’s no way that these illustrious ‘higher ups’ would forget the birthday of someone as important as Satoru Gojo.

“It’s not that they don’t remember,” Gojo says, “it’s that they just don’t care.” 

The nonchalance in his voice stuns you, more so than the fact that you cannot detect even a hint of bitterness in it. They… don’t care? You want to be in denial, to think that that simply cannot be true. And yet…

You cannot deny it. 

Not when you know what you do of the top brass.

“Well, not the students,” Gojo adds, fondness seeping into his tone as the tiniest smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Threw me a party and everything. As expected of students of the Great Teacher Gojo!”

He puffs his chest out a little, clearly pleased, no doubt proud. 

“...did you do anything else?” you ask. Knowing someone as whimsical as Gojo, you can imagine him spending the day as he pleased, going from sweet shop to sweet shop spending exorbitant amounts of money on any and every sugary item he could possibly get his hands on. 

“Nope.” 

You blink at him. “What.”

“I was waaaaaay too busy to do anything else,” Gojo says with a dramatic sigh. “Honestly, I’m lucky that the students love me so much that they took on a couple extra missions just so we could party for a half hour.”

Gojo’s words have you gawking at him, slack jawed and in awe. You’re well aware that he’s a busy guy, but to only have had a half hour of free time on his birthday to celebrate is just…

“Don’t make that face.” His voice is quiet. Gentle. “It’s fine; I’m used to it. Just a part of being an adult, you know?”

He’s not wrong, but… 

Somehow, it doesn’t sit well with you. 

“....you’re done with everything you have to do today, right?” you ask, reaching into your pocket to check the time; it’s nearly midnight.

“Yeah?” Gojo answers, and while he sounds mostly amused, you think you can hear the smallest hint of confusion. “You thinking of having a late night snack together to make up for missing my birthday? How romantic of you!” 

“Not exactly,” you shoot back without missing a beat, but Gojo doesn’t seem to be disappointed by you rebuffing him. You outstretch your palm toward him and he inclines his head down slightly to show that he’s looking down at it. 

Gojo hums. He knows what you’re thinking. Of course he does. “You know that’s technically against the rules.” 

“And?” you ask as you stare back at him.

“You could get in biiiiiiig trouble, you know.”

Your gaze doesn’t waver.

“Could even be sentenced to death for it!” 

Your hand doesn’t move.

Gojo tilts his head to the side before heaving a sigh and shaking his head. He raises his hand, but rather than take yours, he reaches up higher and moves to flick your forehead. That would work just as well, and for a split second you gather your cursed energy, ready to use your technique, but—

You merely wince and Gojo tilts his head to the side, raising an eyebrow as your energy quickly dissipates.

“Change your mind?” he asks.

“Wasn’t sure if you were actually going to do it,” you answer honestly. Did he actually flick you or did he just ‘pretend’ to? There wouldn't have been any point if he pretended. 

“What do you think?”

You frown as a playful, yet menacing grin spreads across Gojo's face. He knows full well that you can't tell, especially if you can't even see the point of contact. 

“Well wishes aside, the only other thing I can really offer you is time,” you deadpan. It wasn't like you were going to be stupid and give him a week or even a month, but…

Gojo wags his finger at you, tutting. “No, not true! There's something else!”

You give him a pointed look. What else could you possibly give? 

“Well, it's really more like an IOU,” he explains airily, before his tone shifts, growing quieter and more serious. “Just get stronger. Strong enough to take on missions just like me and maybe next year we can have a longer party.” 

You sigh. His suggestion is more practical, more useful in the long run, and while you can agree with what he's proposed… It's his birthday. He could afford to be a little more selfish. 

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, his smile ever wide and absolutely ominous. “I'll keep that in mind next time.” 

[coffeegnomee]

I finally finished the Leo revival part and my take is that Mapicc asked Leo to be a mole.

Idk what the original plan was, we know Mapicc wanted to revive him himself, but then Zam and Derap do it first and ask Leo on right away. So they suddenly have like two minutes to prepare.

Leo is insistent and petulant and silly and all the usual 'Lifestealer wants in on a team' tactics. I thought initially that this is why Leo always betrays his old team when asked back/revived bc he just really wants to be involved in the action, and if you ask him back he wants in, regardless of anything that was going on in the past.

But they didn't ask him back: Mapicc did.

And then Leo gets Flame on, within 70 seconds Leo is dead, he guilt trips and then rage quits, making Derap and Zam have to call him back on, which they will of course, and when he gets back he keeps guilt tripping saying he'll just quit.

Flame also logged off instantly after the kill, no talking in chat at all, no comments, nothing. Like he was trying to fake a recording and we all know how terrible the lifestealers are at faking a recording believably. The tell is always that they do it too fast. Lifesteal is longwinded and slow. If you get to the point too fast, you're faking it. And then there's the heart Mapicc later said he got back and the fact Leo still had his same armor trims despite saying Flame took it. If you're faking a kill you give everything back.

So then Leo gets them to come back over, he guesses about the zaun idea, like he already was fed information that he was to infiltrate, and he insists incessantly to be added. And they refuse.

So what's Mapicc to do. the mole failed.

So now it's his turn. He goes for the angle of being mad at Flame, saying they should kill him together. Zam explains how he wanted Leo to hear both sides and then choose, and Mapicc goes, well now he's pissed at Flame so he will never join Mawn (getting Leo back on as a mole), then Mapicc asks if they will help him lure Flame out, they say no, then Mapicc wants to set up a trap at Zaun and Zam says why don't you use your trust with Flame against him, and Mapicc immediately shifts to saying he can't kill Flame bc Flame will just blow up spawn.

Trying everything to get into a situation where Zam and Derap will fight him. Because I think that's his main angle. Despite anything about Zam, Mapicc desperately wants to be opposed with Mawn. He wants to prove his power by a fight, a war, like you do on lifesteal, and they just refuse to fight him. Even if he doesn't want to fight Zam, he sees it as inevitable, not just because he believes Zam will fight him, but because he's meant to be opposed. And nobody is opposing him.

Derap starts laying it on thick that they are just building and want to be peaceful at Zaun and Mapicc, both incredulously and mockingly, says, you guys settled.

And they agree. They're not going to fight.

And Mapicc can only say "have fun living out your days gentlemen" and leaves without waiting for an answer.

I doubt he lets them off that easily. He knows the dedication to the sport of doing an arc against Zam. Zam never gives up. And currently his 'never gives up' is about not fighting.

[luvismenu]

chap: 17 — see nobody else ✎ ,, index

warnings: rainy night, some crying, some confessions, bathing together, protected sex, kissing, some fluffy moments, they kinda TALK (finally yippee)

wc: 4.4k+

note: yeah you guys, it's the beginning of the end. thank you for sticking around with my mess, cuz idk why and how you guys still wait and read this fic omg..

'do you forgive us?'

those four words broke you.

for the first time in your life, you feel.. regretful, for pushing people away.

all your life, you convinced yourself that cutting ties with anyone who hurt you, or who disrupted the balance of your carefully crafted rules was the right thing to do.

you believed it was protecting you.

but now, standing here thinking about everything that's been going on, you’re not so sure anymore.

you try to recall the last time you allowed yourself to simply let go, to live in the moment even if it wasn’t what you deemed “right.” it’s hard to remember because, for as long as you can think, you’ve always had a plan. a script for how life should be, how people should act, and how relationships should work.

you wanted things to go your way, to stay within the lines you drew.

was that selfish of you? probably.

but was it wrong? again... you’re not sure anymore.

maybe the rules you created to protect yourself had also kept you caged, pushing away the very moments and people who could have brought you happiness. maybe in trying to control everything, you lost the chance to truly experience anything.

your throat tightens as you think about it more and more.

you couldn’t answer her.

you couldn’t answer anyone.

it was all too much.

were you scared? were you still clinging to some invisible shield, trying to protect yourself from everything and everyone? but then, as the questions swirled in your mind, one stuck out— how are you going to be okay by hurting others? how is this any different from being completely selfish?

how are you going to explain to everyone that you’ve been so caught up in your own head, so focused on your own fears, that you couldn’t bring yourself to talk or fix things?

the thought makes your chest ache.

you feel awful.

you want to cry.

you need to let it out.

maybe that’s why you’re out here, in the middle of the night, standing in the rain, drenched and shivering, holding onto your jacket hoping that it would give you some kind of warmth but it doesn't help.

you're just staring at jungkook’s door like it holds all the answers.

you want to apologize.

you want to tell him how stupid everything’s been, how sorry you are for running away, for shutting him out.

but fear grips you.

what if he doesn’t want to listen? what if it’s too late?

you stand there frozen.

should you ring the bell? should you talk to him?

is this the right thing to do?

. . .

jungkook can’t sleep.

how could he? his mind is a mess. it's all over the place right now.

he’s scared too, though he doesn’t show it. he's fucking terrified.

you’ve been avoiding the real conversation, the one that might finally clear the air between you. and that terrifies him. because what if your answer isn’t what he wants to hear? what if this wasn't the right thing to do?

but even with that fear clawing at him, he’s willing to try.

he’s not ready— not entirely, no. he doesn’t know if he ever will be, but the thought of letting you go so easily makes his stomach twist.

whatever it is he feels for you, whether it’s infatuation, like, love… he doesn’t care what it’s called. he just knows he needs you. he wants you in his life.

but wanting you scares him too.

what if he crossed a line without realizing it? what if he pushed too hard, selfishly trying to make you see things his way?

is it wrong for him to be so consumed by you? to wish, selfishly, that your world revolved around him the way his seems to revolve around you?

is it bad that he wishes you see nobody else except him?

he sighs, his fingers raking through his hair as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the rhythmic patter of rain against the window. the sound fills the silence, but it brings no answers. he’s waiting.. waiting for clarity, for courage, for something to make sense. but nothing comes.

you ring the bell.

once.

twice.

your fingers tremble as you wait, the cold rain soaking through your clothes and biting into your skin. you're shivering now; not just from the chill, but from the vulnerability you feel standing here.

it's uncomfortable, exposing yourself like this, but how else are you going to fix things? how else can you make things right if you don't start somewhere?

the door swings open sooner than you'd expected, and jungkook appears, his face shifting from blank confusion to complete worry the second he sees you.

“___!” he says, his voice filled with concern as he steps forward, his hand reaching for you but faltering halfway. “come in,” he says quickly, stepping aside to let you in.

he doesn’t ask anything yet, though his mind is undoubtedly racing. all he sees is that you're drenched from head to toe; your hair sticking to your face, your clothes clinging to your body, and you look... guilty?

you step inside hesitantly, water dripping from your clothes and pooling onto the floor. you glance down, noticing the mess, but jungkook doesn’t even seem to notice that.

“you’re drenched,” he murmurs, closing the door behind you. “i’ll get you a towel and.. clothes, yeah... do you want to take a bath?” he sounds as calm as he can manage, but his concern is clear in every word.

you stare at him, your lips trembling. you don’t even know what to say.

“why didn’t you call me?” he asks, stepping closer, his eyes scanning you. “i would’ve picked you up.”

you stay silent, your breath hitching as his worried gaze pierces through you.

“are you okay, ___?” he asks again, his voice even gentler now, and that’s it.

that question, so simple yet filled with care.

it breaks you completely.

your chest tightens as a sob escapes your lips, tears spilling over before you can stop them. you lower your head, your sniffles turning into quiet cries, the pain in your throat unbearable as the emotions you’ve been bottling up come flooding out.

jungkook’s eyes widen, his face crumpling at the sight of your tears. instinctively, he reaches for you again, his arms lifting to pull you close. but before he can, you step forward and wrap your arms around his waist, holding onto him tightly.

you sob into his chest, and he holds you immediately, his arms wrapping around you. one hand on the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your wet hair, while the other presses firmly against your back. he doesn’t care that you’re soaking wet or that your tears are soaking through his shirt.

all he cares about is you being there with him. in his arms.

“___,” he whispers softly, his voice breaking slightly as he holds you closer. your sobs quieten, but the tears keep falling, each one tearing at his heart.

he pulls back just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your wet cheeks, wiping away the tears that don’t seem to stop. “look at me,” he says gently, and you do, your tear streaked face making his heart ache.

“what’s wrong, babe? talk to me,” he pleads, his gaze searches yours, desperate for answers, desperate to understand.

your lip quivers as another sob escapes you. “i-i’m sorry,” you manage to choke out, your voice trembling.

he doesn’t ask you why. not yet, at least.

instead, he tilts his head slightly, his voice soft and steady as he asks, “would you like to take a hot bath?”

the question catches you off guard. you blink up at him, your eyes still tearful.

you don’t respond right away, unsure of what to say, but he doesn’t rush you. he strokes your cheek gently with his thumb, his hand warm against your cold, damp skin.

“you’re freezing,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “let's talk after i know that you're fully warmed up... okay?”

you nod weakly, your body too tired to resist. he guides you to the bathroom, his hand resting lightly on your back. you feel a twinge of embarrassment as water continues to drip from your clothes, leaving a trail on the floor, but jungkook doesn’t really seem to care.

once inside, he reaches for a clean towel and sets it on the counter before turning on the faucet. the sound of water filling the tub echoes softly in the room, the steam rising quickly as the water heats.

“give me your jacket,” he says quietly, turning to you with his hand outstretched.

you hesitate for a moment before takiing it off, your fingers fumbling slightly from the cold. he takes it from you without a word, setting it aside.

“i’ll step out and grab you some dry clothes,” he says, his voice still soft, still patient. “take your time, okay?”

but as he turns to leave, your voice cuts through the quiet. “wait.”

he stops immediately, his hand on the doorknob as he looks back at you.

“don’t go,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

his brows furrow slightly, concern etched across his face. “___,” he starts, “you’ll be more comfortable if you change out of these clothes and—”

“no,” you interrupt, your voice trembling but you're trying to keep it steady. you’re not sure why, but the thought of him leaving, even for a second, feels unbearable. “i just… i want you to stay.”

he stares at you for a moment, as if trying to figure out how serious you are. when he sees the look in your eyes, he sighs softly and steps back into the room.

“okay,” he says quietly, walking towards you.

you nod, your throat tightening as the emotions threaten to overwhelm you again.

he kneels beside the tub, his gaze soft as he looks up at you. “i'll stay,” he says gently. “is that okay?”

his voice is so soothing, so steady, that you find yourself nodding without hesitation. you trust him, and right now, that’s enough.

but before you can step in, you reach out and grab his wrist. “jungkook,” you say softly.

his eyes widen slightly in surprise. “what's wrong?”

you bite your lip, hesitant. “i don’t want to bath alone,” you admit quietly, your voice barely audible over the sound of running water.

he stares at you for a moment, processing your words, and then he gulps. “okay,”

your heart races as he begins unbuttoning his shirt, his movements careful and slow, as though giving you time to change your mind. when he takes it off and reaches for the hem of his pants, he pauses, glancing at you. “are you sure?” he asks softly, his dark eyes searching yours.

you start taking off your clothes too. “i’m sure,”

he steps into the tub, the warm water splashing slightly as he lowers himself into it. he looks at you again, his gaze never leaving you, and holds out his hand. “come here,” he says gently.

you hesitate for only a moment before moving to join him inthe tub. the warmth of the water feels like a soothing balm against your chilled skin, and you sink down slowly, settling in across from him.

for a moment, neither of you speak. the sound of the water and the faint patter of rain outside fills the silence.

“come closer,” jungkook says softly, breaking the quiet.

you hesitate again, but the look in his eyes is so earnest, so full of care, that you can’t resist. you shuffle forward until you’re within reach, and he gently pulls you into his lap.

his arms wrap around you, holding you close as the warmth of the water and his body seeps into yours. you breathe softly as you places your hands on his shoulders.

“better?” he asks, his voice a low murmur.

“yeah,” you whisper.

his hand moves slowly, soothingly, up and down your back, andfor the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself breathe.

the warmth of the water surrounds you, but it’s his presence that truly soothes you. his arms hold you securely.

you wonder if he’s nervous or if it’s something else entirely. his hand strokes your back slowly, his touch soft as though he’s afraid you might shatter if he isn’t careful.

jungkook’s heart is racing.

he’s never seen you like this. it shakes him because, in his mind, you’re always so in control. but now, here you are, letting him hold you, leaning on him like you trust him, and it’s enough to make his heart race.

he wonders if he’s doing this right. if holding you like this is enough to tell you everything he feels but can’t say. because the words are there. he just doesn’t know how to string them together without ruining this fragile moment.

your own thoughts are no less chaotic.

you think about how you’ve spent so much time pushing people away, building walls to keep you steady, but here he is, breaking through them without even trying. it scares you how much you need this. how much you need him.

you shift slightly in his lap, and you feel him tense for a moment before he relaxes again. you feel him against your core, firm and pressing, and the realization sends a shiver through you. a small gasp escapes your lips before you can stop it

“sorry,” you mumble quickly, your voice barely above a whisper, but the heat rushing to your face betrays you.

“no, it’s... it’s okay,” he says softly. he clears his throat, his grip on you loosening as though giving you space, but he doesn’t pull away entirely.

you don’t move either, unsure of what to do. the moment feels tense, like you’re both balancing on a thin line.

“___,” he says after a beat, his voice low and careful.

you look at him. “yeah?”

he hesitates, his dark eyes searching yours for something; permission, reassurance, maybe both. “i don’t... want you to feel uncomfortable,” he says finally.

you shake your head quickly, your hands tightening slightly on his shoulders. “i’m not,” you admit, and it’s the truth. despite the initial surprise, you don’t feel uncomfortable. if anything, you feel hyperaware; of him, of the closeness, of the heat building between you.

his gaze softens at your words, “are you sure?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper now.

you nod, your throat dry as you try to find the right words. “it’s just... a little overwhelming i guess,” you say honestly, your voice trembling slightly.

he exhales slowly, “yeah?” he murmurs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “tell me about it.”

the way he talks makes you feel a little braver, and you shift again. his breath hitches this time, and his hands move instinctively to steady you, gripping your waist gently.

“sorry,” you mumble again, though you’re not entirely sure what you’re apologizing for.

“don’t be,” he swallows hard, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. “just... let me know if it’s too much, okay?”

you nod again, your heart pounding in your chest. neither of you move for a while. the tension is lingering but it's not unpleasant, no. it's not even close to that.

“jungkook,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the gentle slosh of water.

“yeah?” he murmurs, his voice low

you pause, trying to gather your thoughts. “i want to talk” you say finally

he looks into yiur eyes, a small smile creeping up his lips. “we are talking, aren't we?”

“no... i mean, yes but i want to talk about us,” you say, and you see his expression change to.. surprise? confusion?

“really?,” he asks softly. “a-are you sure?”

“yes.. you-” you sigh. “you make me feel like it’s okay,” you admit quietly. “like... like it’s okay to not have everything figured out.”

he exhales a soft laugh. “that’s because it is okay,” he says. “nobody has everything figured out, ___.”

you smile a little. “you always seem like you do,”

he shakes his head, “i don’t,” he admits. “i’m just good at pretending.”

“yeah you are,” you smile.

he smiles too. his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer, and you don't resist. instead, you melt into him, like you always do.

the kiss is soft but intense, as if he's trying to tell you everything he can't put into words. your hands move instinctively to his hair, fingers threading through the damp strands, tugging gently. his grip on your waist firms, anchoring you to him, as though he's afraid you might slip away.

but you’re not going anywhere.

your bodies press together, and you can feel him, hard against your core. the feeling pulls a quiet whimper from you, your breath hitching against his mouth.

“jungkook...” you murmur, your lips barely parting from his.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours.

“i know,” he whispers, his hand moves to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as though to reassure you. “we don’t have to rush, ___.”

something about the way he says it, the way his gaze is on you, tells you that he’s willing to give you anything, everything, if you ask for it.

. . .

you’re both out of the bath now. jungkook carried you to his bedroom, and for some reason, it wasn’t awkward at all. it felt.. normal.

you’re lying on his bed, and he’s on top of you, his weight hovering just enough to keep you comfortable. he tears open the condom wrapper, sliding it over his length with ease, his eyes never leaving yours.

he leans down, pressing soft kisses along your neck and chest, his fingers grazing your skin gently.

“i’m here to talk, not... this,” you breathe out, a small, half hearted smile tugging at your lips. the way you say it isn’t convincing though, and he can tell.

he pauses, pulling back slightly to look at you. “you want me to stop then?” his voice is soft, his gaze steady as he searches your face for any sign of hesitation.

“no,” you admit quietl

he doesn’t say anything more, leaning down to kiss you again.

his hand moves lower, positioning himself at your entrance. you exhale softly, your body already anticipating the stretch as he pushes in slowly. your eyes flutter shut as you moan at the feeling, the familiar feeling of pleasure and fullness making you lose yourself in the moment.

jungkook groans above you, his brows furrowing as he begins to move, his thrusts slow.

this wasn’t what you’d planned when you came here. you wanted to talk, to tell him everything you’ve been holding in. to admit how much he means to you, even if it terrifies you. but now, with him like this, you realize that he makes you feel safer than anyone else ever has. and if that’s not love, then you don't know what is.

wait. did you just think...

“f-fuck baby,”

he groans as his thrusts deepen, dragging another moan from your lips. he leans back slightly, his hands gripping your waist as he lifts you onto his lap, settling you there with him still inside.

“come here,” he murmurs, his voice low and breathless.

your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he thrusts upward. your hands find his shoulders, holding onto him as your body adjusts to this new position.

“mmph... jungkook,” you gasp, your voice trembling.

his hands steady you, his fingers pressing into your waist as he moves. it feels so good that it’s almost overwhelming.

“i’m sorry,” you blurt out suddenly, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’m sorry for avoiding you...”

he doesn’t stop, but his lips find your neck, pressing a soft kiss there. “i’m sorry too,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath warm.

he looks up at you then, his movements slowing slightly as his eyes meet yours.

“i—” you start, but he cuts you off with a kiss. you melt into it, letting him take over as his thrusts pick up speed again, each one hitting the perfect spot that has you crying out his name.

“not yet,” he whispers against your lips, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he keeps going, his pace quickening. the sounds of skin against skin and your soft moans fill the room, mingling with the occasional deep groans from him.

“jungkook,” you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as the pleasure builds, overwhelming and all consuming. your mind is a haze of him; his hands, his lips, his voice.

“baby, you areso good,” he murmurs against your neck, his lips trail kisses along your collarbone, leaving you breathless.

and then, before you can think, the words spill out of you.

“i love you.”

everything stills for a moment, his movements falter, his eyes snapping to yours, wide and filled with something you can’t quite place.

but he doesn’t stop.

instead, he presses his forehead to yours, his thrusts resuming, slower but deeper, his gaze never leaving yours. “and i love you,” he says softly

the tension in your body reaches its peak, the pleasure too much to contain. you cry out his name again as you come undone, your body trembling in his hold. he follows seconds later, groaning deeply as he finds his release, his grip on you tightening as he buries himself to the hilt.

you collapse against him, both of you panting and spent, the room filled with the sound of your heavy breathing. his arms wrap around you, holding you close as you both come down from the high.

after a moment, he breaks the silence. “i think we should take a bath again.”

you let out a tired laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder. “yeah, we should.”

the next morning, you woke up to the soft warmth of jungkook’s bedsheets around you. it was peaceful, quiet— almost too good to be true.

you made your way into the kitchen, where jungkook was already sipping on a cup of coffee. you walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist in a soft embrace. he let out a quiet chuckle, his free hand resting gently on yours.

“good morning,” you whispered, burying your face on his bare back.

“good morning,” he replied, taking another sip of his coffee. “sleep well?”

“yeah,” you murmured, “better than i have in a long time, actually.”

he smiled, the moment lingered for a bit, both of you just enjoying the silence until you spoke again.

“can i tell u something?” you started, your voice hesitant. he set his coffee down and turned to face you, waiting for you to continue.

you took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “my mom.. she asked me if i would forgive them.” you paused, trying to find the right words. you see the way he softens, like he feels bad for you. “and it really messed with me. because this isn’t how things were supposed to go, you know? i always thought i’d be strong, but.. then it made me realize... i don’t know. maybe i was holding on to something that wasn’t meant to be.”

he reaches for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “it's okay, you’ve been through a lot,” he says quietly

you exhale softly. “and i always had these rules, these boundaries that i put up to.. I don't know, i just felt like it was the right thing to do. but now, looking back, it all just feels... stupid. and i’m sorry for being so stubborn.” your voice cracks slightly, but you push through. "but then, when i saw you with someone else... i immediately assumed the worst, and i was so jealous. it was so stupid. and then i started this mess with jason, and i know that was wrong. i am sorry that everything has just been so fucking messy.”

you pause, meeting his eyes. “and i want to fix it. i just... i don’t know how. but i want to try...” you pause. there is a long silence as jungkook processes everything you’d said. he looks serious, but not the harsh kind of serious. and finally, he speaks.

“honestly..” he starts. “i think you have commitment issues,” he said, surprising you. your eyes widened, and you took a step back, trying to process what he meant.

“w-what?” you stammered.

his gaze softens, reaching for your arm. “i understand though. you’ve never really had anyone to be committed to, have you?”

that's kinda true.

“you were just trying to protect yourself. and i get that.” he continues.

“i have to apologise too because well, i was jealous too and i’m sorry for going along with the whole ‘mia’ thing. that was messy, yes. but i do get it.”

you look at him. “you... you understand?”

“yeah,” he nods, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “i do. i can see now that it scares you to commit because of everything you’ve been through. and i am sorry for putting you in a position like that.” he pauses. "but.. i’m not going anywhere. not now. not after everything we’ve been through.”

you let out a breath, your shoulders relaxing. “i really want to try,” you say, your voice softer now. “i really really do. i just... don’t know where to start.”

he smiles, pulling you into his arms again. “we’ll figure it out, together.”

you rest your head against his chest, feeling his warmth. “you know... you’re the first person to make me feel like... this. i never thought i’d be able to trust anyone like this. i must really like you,”

“oh? wasn’t it ‘i love you’?” he teases, a playful grin spreading across his face.

you laugh, pushing him away lightly. “you said it too!” you tease back, feeling lighter than you had in a long time.

he pulls you back into him, kissing your forehead gently. “i know. i meant it.”

you chuckle softly.

“i did too.”

📜 series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @wombatkitten127 @minaateez @myjungkookthighs

📜 permanent taglist: @internetrando64 @jkvias @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee

@134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @elinaki92 @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @hoseokteardrop @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04 @beigerin @nikidream24 @svnbangtansworld @mimi1097 @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle

[miya-cs]

A little courage and good communication.

Reader x Max Verstappen

In which the reader always blames himself for any uncomfortable situation, but is learning to deal with it.

Warnings: none very serious. The reader thinks too much, is a little anxious and pessimistic, but everything works out in the end.

(Yeah, I'm dealing with my traumas through fanfics, my psychologist will never know)

Traduzido do português pelo Google tradutor (tentei revisar, mas, ei, sempre dá alguma coisa errada, desculpe)

***

Tension fills the Redbull motorhome. Your hands are clenched as you keep your eyes steady, watching the Team employees from one side to the other.

Max has barely spoken to you today. From the morning when he woke up early and came to the garage alone, to the fact that he didn't even come to see you after you arrived.

You see, it's not that you depend on his attention, but… Your anxious mind starts to remember every action you've taken in the last few days, trying to find something in which you could have hurt your boyfriend.

Was it because you didn't wait for him for dinner? But Max himself said you could have dinner because he would be late. Was it because you didn't do anything after he had bad times in free practice? When Max arrived, upset about the race, you didn't even know why, but, as always, he always said everything was fine.

You believed him and left him alone in the room, because you knew he liked that so he could reflect on what he could or couldn't improve in the race. But… he was fine, wasn’t he?

You keep watching. Maybe you could get him a drink? Or maybe just go talk to him and wish him luck in the race? What to do?

You feel your eyes watering, and it irritates you. You’ve always been very sensitive and, due to some situations in the past, you’ve learned to hate that side of you.

Why cry over something so silly? Just because your boyfriend hasn’t paid you any attention all day? What an idiot.

You remember Christian’s words, after Max introduced you to the Team after a few months of dating in private.

“Do you really think she” – his gaze took in yours completely, a little cowering next to Max – “will be able to handle all this? Formula 1 isn’t just a sport, Max, you know that”.

Max vehemently defended you, and so you were made official on Redbull and Max’s Instagram. But, after more than a year together, you wonder if, perhaps, Horner was right.

You take a deep breath, remembering your psychologist's words: the best way to stop thinking too much is to get things straight. Talk. Ask questions. Face it. You're not psychic and not everything you think is correct.

Right.

Your eyes scan the garage again, finding Max on the other side, analyzing some screens with graphs. The grading will start soon and then you'll only be able to talk to him later.

You wonder if it's better to resolve things first. What if something happens and he's still upset? What if he's just waiting for an apology from you?

Finally, you decide to go to Max. Your steps are hesitant, and they get even worse when one of the mechanics points at you, Max's eyes quickly finding you.

He frowns as you approach, noticing your hesitation.

"Is everything okay?"

"Can we talk?" You say, and Max nods, his features serious. You follow him to the corner of the room, away from the noise of the garage and the employees.

“Um, I… I wanted to know if I did something to upset you?” You get straight to the point, knowing Max prefers things that way. “It’s just that you didn’t talk to me right today, and you were acting weird, and I wondered if I did something wrong? If I did, I’m sorry. You know I can be inattentive sometimes and…”

“Schatje,” Max interrupts you. His hands come up to your face, resting on your cheeks as he lifts your gaze to his. “Why the hell would you think you did something wrong? The car has been a mess since the last race last week and I’m trying to improve my time before the race tomorrow. That’s all.”

“Oh…” You blink, his words melting over your mind and washing away all your worries. “So it’s not me?”

Max rolls his eyes, before placing a quick kiss on your lips.

“No, Schatje,” he murmurs, and your shoulders slump as a sigh of relief leaves your lips.

“That’s great,” you smile, and Max can’t resist kissing you once more. “Get back to work then, Maxie. Good luck. I’m sure you’ll still be able to get the best out of your car in qualifying today and in the race tomorrow.”

Your words make him smile. “Have dinner together later?” your boyfriend asks.

“Room service. I don’t want to go out anymore today.” You answer and he just nods, before saying goodbye.

You keep smiling as he walks back to the mechanics. Your therapist would be so proud.

But before her, you were so proud of yourself for having the courage to solve things by talking instead of allowing your mind to create all the worst possible scenarios and suffering for something that only existed there, in your head.

Sometimes, to solve things, all it takes is a little courage and good communication.

[kelloggsenthusiast]

if you're reading this - luigi mangione x reader

just want to let you all know that all the accusations made against this and are just that- accusations

innocent until proven guilty beyond reasonable doubt

(not beta read)

he had been caught.

that's all you had been seeing all day. his pictures all over social media and the news, some demonising him and calling him a terrorist, others calling him a hero. you were just confused. three weeks ago, he just up and left your shared apartment without so much as an explanation. you wished you knew better but you couldn't explain it. you loved him and you thought he lived you right back. he was so sweet and doting and attentive to you, even if he hadn't been the same since the accident.

the accident... it had dimmed his light significantly. he couldn't hike or climb or do the things he once loved, being too financially and physically incapacitated to do it, and that's when you noticed his shift. you'd been seeing each other for some years, even talking about the idea of marriage before the accident happened. after it, though, it's like a switch flipped. he came to stay with you while he was covering his medical bills and you could see up close how it changed him. he became distant from you and obsessed with a lot of socialist literature, reading while he wasn't working. his parents and family called you several times because he had effectively stopped speaking to anyone since then. he was different and it was difficult for you to watch what had become of him now that...

you were on your way home from a long day at work, only made longer by seeing your boyfriends face everywhere. you had to turn off the radio because of all the news reports every few seconds. you couldn't believe it, but at the same time, you could. he had an implicitly calloused way of handling things that you'd always said would land him in prison. little did you know, it was literally landing him in prison. the health care system, after all, killed your childhood best friend and left him disabled and in debt. he was the one who just went to go and make his grievances known.

upon your arrival at your apartment, you headed straight for his desk and flipped through all the papers and manuscripts, reading through his detailed notes and excerpts from books and studies. then you saw it. a letter, starting with the words: if you're reading this, they got me. and I'm sorry.

your heart lurched when you saw those words and you didn't even realise that tears were running down your face. you continued reading thr note in his familiar messy handwriting, sharp and thin lettering you recognised as his.

I'm so sorry. I know I've been abandoning you and our relationship. I've been abandoning everyone. but I can't just deal with this pain any longer, and I can't bear to see you suffer because of something neither of us could have predicted. I've cleared the medical debts and paid for the apartment for the next three months. you're free now. and I want you to use that freedom to find happiness beyond me. I love you. but I know I won't be there for you much from jail. you've always been headstrong and intelligent, so I hope you'll understand why I chose to do what I did. I'm truly, truly sorry. I hope you can forgive me. and more importantly, I hope you can find happiness beyond me. I love you.

a short something for all of you. prayers for all of you in the states, I never knew it was this bad. if ceo's were popped as often as kids in school, gun control would be a thing. once again, free luigi. he didn't do anything wrong. - saïe

[mclacedes]

A Fading Echo (LH44)

CHAPTER I: Taste Karma.

hello beautiful babes! here's a little something i've been wanting to write for a while now and just flew out of me randomly!! hope you enjoy this and hope this makes any sense at all :)

warnings: breakup, abu dhabi ‘24, lewis leaving mercedes, lewis in ferrari, lack of XNDA songs, partner moving on.

“it isn't only how he died, but that he died believing. and so i try to be kind to everything i see. and in everything i see, i see him.”

— Hanya Yanagihara, “A Little Life”

this is slightly inspired by Hanya Yanagihara's book "A Little Life", but THIS IS NOT A RECOMMENDATION from me and THIS DOES NOT mean I like that book at all !!!

also, there's a part II for it, so lmk if you like it :)

End of season. Last race. Last race with Mercedes.

This was the end of an era, but the start of an age. A new chapter in this long book, filled with broken records and (un)fulfilled dreams.

There was only last thing he wanted though. A thing he’d never done.

To release an album.

+44, his first album, would come out in a few hours and nobody even knew it.

Lewis had poured countless hours into it, refining each lyric, melody, and harmony until every note fitted just right.

Every detail was thoroughly planned, every step thoughtfully envisioned. The photoshoot was booked, the interview responses rehearsed, the songs were ready. But one day, he realized the only thing that should be put together — his very self — was melting, breaking apart into millions of pieces of longing, sorrow, wrath and regret.

This should be a moment of fun, a moment of celebration, but the only thing he’d think about is how this album only exists because, at one point, he had you — the best thing that ever happened to him, his confidant, his partner in crime.

But, as of now, there's no you in his life and, apparently, no space for him in yours.

Now you’re a fading echo, a ghost haunting every inch of his life, lurking in the back of his mind so he can get a glimpse of your broken-hearted gaze in your salted-water-drowned eyes when he closes his.

Your laugh still echoes through the paddocks around the world; he still knows every word of the prayer you’d mutter every time he climbed into the cockpit. You are in his houses, cars, clothes, and everything he is now—a wreckage.

There's a simple routine he follows, absentmindedly, now that you're gone: he smiles when he sees you in a small detail of his life; then his heart tightens painfully, suffocating him. When the stars fall at night, he lies awake in the darkness of his room and his own mind, clutching the pillow you once slept on, desperately trying to grasp some semblance of solace and familiarity. Lewis lingers there, until your vanilla scent fades away completely as he drifts into the restless awareness of his subconscious—his dreams, in which you've never left and still loved him. In his perfect, tailor-made utopia, you can bring yourself to look into his eyes and say you forgive him.

But reality has other plans. Like always.

He just wanted to get through today.

Yes, the Universe is vast and gracious, munificent and indulgent, and Lewis knows this. But, today, his last race with Mercedes in a track that holds so much memory, the Universe had made its mind: the winds of fate would play a trick on him.

This morning, after waking from a dream of you in your favorite park in France, laughing about babies and tracing shapes in the clouds, he never imagined he’d want to leave the paddock as soon as he entered it.

On the drive to Yas Marina, it hadn’t crossed his mind that he might see you, hand in hand with that one actor—Jensen Ackles—who you used to gush over.

As he signed caps, mini helmets, and photos for his fans, not for a single moment did he expect to catch sight of you in the paddock, wearing rosso corsa, cheering on Ferrari—Ferrari, of all teams. The same red team you used to roll your eyes at. The same red team that the man beside you had so often boasted about supporting. The same team that he had signed a contract with.

None of it had been his choice, and yet his entire body betrayed him the moment his eyes landed on you; as though someone had fastened his feet to the ground, he was unable to walk. He not only couldn’t move, but he felt like air didn't get to his lungs so he couldn't breathe, and there was nothing more interesting than the scene in from of him so he couldn’t look away.

For a second there, he wished you were ugly. He wished your eyes didn’t glisten when you honestly found something funny, that your dress didn't perfectly frame your body, and your teeth were broken. He wished there were flaws he could cling to, reasons to justify hating you; he wished he could have the strength within himself to fall out of love. But you were too unattainable for him to let go.

And, God, you were glowing. Your smile beamed, your hair fell perfectly just the way he likes it, and then—what. is. that?

Your hand laid slightly over your belly.

Your left hand rested on your belly, right where your womb would be.

Your left hand, with its delicate fingers, bore a ring—a massive diamond that caught the sunlight in a cruel, mocking glint.

And then there was him. Jensen Ackles, the so-called antichrist, standing behind you with his arms wrapped around you like you belonged to him. His hold was possessive, unyielding, as though he’d fight tooth and nail to keep you. But he did seem like he was happy. And the worst part about it is that you seemed too.

Lewis’s heart rate spiked, pounding in his chest, his thoughts racing faster than the W15 ever could.

“Is she pregnant? They're engaged? Are they married already? When is the baby due?”

And then, just before he turned away, one final thought slipped through the chaos in his mind: taste karma.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM WHEN HARRY MET SALLY *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

i've been doing a lot of thinking, and the thing is, i love you.

i love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out.

i love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich.

i love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like i'm nuts.

i love that after i spend the day with you, i can still smell your perfume on my clothes.

i love that you are the last person i want to talk to before i go to sleep at night.

i came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

i'll have what she's having.

would you like to have dinner?

i thought you didn't believe men and women could be friends.

when did i say that?

i mean, come on, who the hell are we kidding?

most women at one time or another have faked it.

they haven't faked it with me.

that's right. i forgot. you're a man.

what was that supposed to mean?

it is so nice when you can sit with someone and not have to talk.

marriages don't break up on account of infidelity. it's just a symptom that something else is wrong.

you realize of course that we could never be friends.

men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.

that's not true.

i have a number of men friends and there is no sex involved.

you only think you do.

they all want to have sex with you.

no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive.

i guess we're not going to be friends then.

you were the only person i knew in new york.

there are two kinds of women: high maintenance and low maintenance.

which one am i?

you're the worst kind.

you're high maintenance but you think you're low maintenance.

i just want it the way i want it.

you look like a normal person, but actually you are the angel of death.

don't you have a dark side?

when i buy a new book, i read the last page first.

if you could take him back now, would you?

why didn't he want to marry me?

what's the matter with me?

you're challenging.

i'm too structured. i'm completely closed off.

i drove him away.

how do you expect me to respond to this?

i'm leaving.

i don't have to take this crap from you.

what the hell does that have to do with anything?

are you finished now?

can i say something?

i'm sorry.

everybody thinks they have good taste and a sense of humor but they couldn't possibly all have good taste.

that is just like you.

you say things like that, and you make it impossible for me to hate you.

at least i got the apartment.

the first time we met, we hated each other.

we were friends for a long time.

it only took three months.

you will never have to be out there again.

i'm not going to tell you that.

i miss her.

you know what i miss? i miss the idea of him.

when did this happen?

you don't bounce back from that right away.

doesn't what i said mean anything for you?

i hate you, [name]. i really hate you.

what can i get you?

no one has ever quoted me back to me before.

you know, i'm so glad i never got involved with you.

i am not your consolation prize.

i wrote that.

you're going to have to try and find a way of not expressing every feeling that you have, every moment that you have them.