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slasherscream · 4 months

Note

I don't normally like make requests from people if it's obvious I'm sorry for my awkwardness.

Anyway you were saying how you were really into Jordan li recently so am I and I've read every single fanfiction or every rant there is about them and I crave more. I have been in a angst/fluff mood and I haven't seen anyone do this idea either. I was thinking thinking maybe Jordan and reader gets into an argument (not really picky about what) and the argument gets really heated (you know how jordan shifts into their male form to Intimidate or get their point across) Jordan shifts into their male form which scares reader (I'm thinking reader doesn't have a good past with angry men) and reader backs away from them in fear Jordan notices and tries to comfort them but reader flinched when Jordan touches them. Reader then asks them to leave so they do but Jordan spends like a week trying to make the situation better.

(I would also like to put reader isn't scared of Jordan more so the action of the blatant Intimidation tactic they tried to use against reader. Reader is angry that jordan would try to scare them even if it wasn't on purpose it still hurt)

Jordan sorta just spends a week following reader around Like a lost puppy trying to treat reader like a absolute queen even if reader won't really acknowledge them until Jordan has an breakdown while drunk coming to readers dorm begging for forgiveness.

Again if its obvious I don't know how to make requests I'm sorry this has just been on my mind for so long.

A/N: this request is absolutely perfect, and exactly to my tastes. thank you for sending it, doll!

WORD COUNT: 4k+ under cut | hurt/comfort and angst/fluff

It’s hard sometimes, knowing when to push and when to just let Jordan be. Not at all a skill you learned over night. You’d gotten good at the push and pull of bringing them out of their shell back when the two of you had just been friends. Better at it than anyone else, at least. It was a slow process, but every second was worth it.

Now on the good days you don’t have to push at all. A hand on their arm. A coaxing smile or two. Any act of connection, no matter how small, enough to make them tell you what’s on their mind. Even if they scowl the entire time they let it out. It’s the letting it out at all that counts. Progress!

Today you miscalculated. It’s been a bad week. Jordan hadn’t dropped in the rankings, but their points took a small dip. They hadn’t been very active on their socials, busy doing work as Brink’s TA. But the point gap between where Jordan sits at #2 in the rankings, and where Andre sits at #3 is still a wide open chasm.

It’d take something truly disastrous to knock Jordan from the spot they’ve held for three years now. But the rankings are more important than anything to Jordan. No matter how gently you try to bring logic into the situation, Jordan gets irritated quickly, accusing you of not taking it seriously. You often wonder how that could be, considering you’re in the top eight yourself, but you bite your tongue and don’t bring it up.

The group had tried to go out for lunch. It was okay at first, everyone making an effort to ignore the storm cloud Jordan cast over the table as they picked at their food. Then Andre had made some type of stupid joke. Not even about the rankings, but enough to make Jordan snap at him. The situation escalated so quickly that Cate had threatened to take off her glove and make everyone shut up. You paid your portion of the bill and dragged Jordan out before anyone could start up again.

And now you’re here, somehow also on the shit list for not being supportive enough. As if being supportive isn't everything you do. Day in and day out.

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side. You don’t honestly think it was an innocent comment, do you?” Jordan snaps, standing up from your couch to pace the length of your dorm room.

“You know how Andre is. He gets sarcastic when he’s hungover, and he was packing a double whammy. He did coke and got drunk last night. He was just a little off. He wasn’t making a real dig at you.” You defend your friend, knowing Jordan will regret what she said at lunch once she’s calmed down.

“Oh, so we’re all just supposed to tiptoe around his highness? If he was gonna be a dick during the entire thing he should have just skipped coming out with us.” Jordan’s eyes narrow in on your expression, the sudden pursing to your lips and looking away. “What?” She snaps.

You take a deep breath at the tone, “Well, Jordie, if you want me to be honest Andre wasn’t the only one who wasn’t on their best behavior today.”

A beat of silence.

You look up and there goes Jordan rolling her shoulders back, eyebrows practically in her hairline and you sigh. You definitely should have brought up her attitude later.

“You really are taking his side!” She scoffs in disbelief.

“Nope. No, I am not, there are no sides. We’re all friends. Friends fight. I’m just trying to remind you that you actually are friends. You can’t just…” You trail off, uncertain.

“I can’t just what?” She throws up her hands, volume raising.

“You can’t act like this every time the rankings do something that isn’t spectacular for you. I know they mean a lot to you but you can’t take the numbers out on the people who care about you.”

“You just don’t get it-”

“But I do get it! We talk about it all the time. Your feelings are completely valid, the way you react to them isn’t. You’ve been giving Andre looks that could kill all week and he didn’t even do anything. If he was a little snappy at lunch, maybe he’s upset that his friend has been treating him like shit over something he barely cares about.”

“Well if I’m so-” Jordan shifts, pitch of his voice deepening, on the verge of yelling, “-fucking awful why don’t you go run to Andre and cry about it together?”

He only takes two steps towards the couch before you use your powers. It’s instinct, the way the forcefield bubbles up around you.

Whatever Jordan was going to say next shrivels up and dies on his tongue. The only sounds in the room are the quiet hum your powers make when you use them, and the scared, panicked gasp you make from inside the forcefield you put up to protect yourself from him.

There’s a second where the two of you just stare at each other. Both in shock.

“Baby-” Jordan tries taking another step forward, a small, barely there shuffle of his foot. His face falls when the forcefield gets a little louder, glows a little brighter.

Jordan looks close to tears. It’s that expression that pulls you out of the animal state of fear you’d fallen into. You look away from them. Take a few heaving breaths. Do your best to not mix up faces of the past with your present and future.

Your forcefield flickers out slowly. A concentrated effort.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t mean to- I would never ever-'' Jordan shifts again. She rushes too fast into your space to kneel on the ground in front of you, her hands reaching for yours, desperate and clumsy.

When you flinch away, moving so you’re perched on the armrest of the couch, still trying to calm yourself down, she’s left with her hands grasping at air. “Baby, look at me. Please? Look at me, I’m sorry I yelled. I’m sorry that I… I’m sorry. I would never hurt you. I fucking swear I wasn’t-”

“I know, Jordan.” You shake your head, trying to stay calm. “Could you please….leave? I… I can’t calm down right now. I’m trying. I know you didn’t mean to… to scare me, but I need you to go.”

“Baby, wait, fuck. Fuck, wait! I’m sorry. Let’s just talk. I can’t leave you alone like this. I’m sorry.” She’s panicking now, throat feeling like it’s closing up.

She doesn’t try to reach for you again, but her hands feel like they’re burning from the effort it takes to keep them away from you. It’s instinct to hold you, to make it better, to pull you closer. She’s always been the place you run to when you’re scared, the shield you step behind when you need to feel safe. She doesn’t know what to do when you don’t even want to be near her.

“We’ll talk later. I’ll… I’ll have Cate come over so I’m not alone. Just.. leave.” Your voice breaks on a sob, and you’re begging her to leave, and that’s what makes Jordan head to the door, legs shaking. She’s never made you cry before.

She’s glued to her phone the rest of the day, waiting for you to call. You don’t.

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You’ve been best friends since you were freshman. You haven’t gone longer than two days without talking in all that time since. No matter how busy you are. No matter how shitty either of you feels. Jordan doesn’t know what to do with the hours of the day that you usually fill.

She breaks on the second day when you show up to class and move to sit by Luke on the other side of the room instead of with her. You don’t even look at her as you walk by.

Class doesn’t start for another five minutes. The teacher isn’t even here yet, and she’s always late. Jordan moves to get up, already feeling like she’s choking on all the words she needs to say to you to fix this, but is stopped by a firm grip around her wrist. She’s about to snap when she realizes it’s Cate, taking up your usual spot in the seat that isn’t up for grabs because it’s Your Seat.

“Don’t make the situation worse. She just wants to go to class. Don’t hound her, Jordan.”

“Hound her?” Jordan’s voice raises, incredulous. “She’s my girlfriend. I need to talk to her.”

“You need to apologize.” Cate bites. “Dick.”

“That’s what I was trying to do before you stopped me.” Jordan speaks through gritted teeth.

“How about you try apologizing after she’s done all her classes? That way, when you inevitably upset her, she doesn’t hole herself up in her room all day crying. And feel bad about missing class on top of it. You know… the way she spent all of yesterday?”

“She cried all day?” Jordan’s shoulders sag, voice getting smaller.

Cate softens, patting Jordan’s hand. “It’s not just about you, and you know that. Triggers like this really fuck with people. And she’s also pissed that she’s triggered in the first place. Let her cool off.”

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He makes it a few hours before he’s trailing after you.

He can tell by the tension in the line of your spine that you know he’s there. But you don’t outright tell him to get lost, so Jordan can’t stop himself from following you around. Even if you don’t want him there.

He sits across from you as you study in the library. Makes puppy dog eyes at you the entire time. He can’t be bothered to unpack his bag. It’d be useless to pretend he’ll do anything besides watching you.

Two hours in, he gets up and leaves, hating the way your shoulders relax as he turns to go.

He comes back twenty minutes later with your favorite foods and drink from the best local coffee shop. You don’t reach for any of it. He’s always loved how stubborn you are, how you stick to your ideas. Your principles. How steadfastly you make up your mind. Right now he’s just a little terrified of that same stubbornness. Remembers when you’d only been friends, that first year of peeling one another open, feeling each other out.

(“I’ll never do it, Jordan.” You’d whispered vehemently, drunk and mad and beautiful.

“Do what?”

“Be with anyone who tries to fucking cow me into submission. It’s fucked. I won’t do it. I’ve had enough of it.”

You’d passed the bottle you’d just had pressed to your lips and Jordan had tried not to think too hard about it, even when he tasted the remnants of your sticky, sweet lip gloss beneath the vodka.)

He doesn’t get up to leave again until you do.

Jordan walks you to your dorm, but trails a few steps behind you. He tried walking directly beside you at first, but your hands brushed together and the look you gave him was cold enough to freeze blood.

So-

-behind it is.

Jordan doesn’t get the chance to say goodnight before you slam the door in his face as loudly as possible.

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Jordan doesn’t push her luck by trying to walk you to your classes the next morning. She does wake up extra early to buy you the biggest bouquet of your favorite flowers she could find. She leaves them outside your door and goes to class, hoping you’ll at least acknowledge her, the next time you see her.

During your first shared class of the day you walk in holding the bouquet of flowers. Jordan perks up in her seat, holding her breath. You do finally look at her. You make direct eye contact as you throw the flowers into the trash can at the teacher’s desk.

Jordan does not break her pen in half when Andre whispers “yikes” under his breath.

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Two more days and Jordan feels like he’s going insane. He knows you feel worse. One glance at the carefully nonchalant expression you’ve worn all week tells him that. Putting on a mask is nothing for you. That look is the first thing you learned how to do in the top ten.

You’d never hidden the way you felt around him before. Not like this. His skin keeps buzzing with the urge to corner you. Jordan needs the two of you to talk about what happened. But he’s already walking the world’s thinnest line.

And he knows he can’t force you, if you’re not ready.

Another thing he knows: when you’re this upset you don’t clean. Simultaneously, when your room gets messy your depression gets worse. He skips one of your mutual classes of the day and lets himself into your dorm with the key you gave him during first year.

Jordan looks around, wincing at the chaos. You never let it get this bad. Not even during your most soul crushing finals. He starts by throwing away the trash. The tissues you wiped your tears with. The takeout containers. Pages of your notebooks you ripped out, carelessly thrown around the room. You take awful notes in class when you’re distracted. He hates that he’s distracting you.

He wipes down every surface with your favorite scented cleaner. Dusts your books. Sweeps and mops. Changes your sheets and grabs the brightest, happiest color comforter you have stashed in your closet to put on the bed. As he adjusts the pillows he thinks about how often you spend the night at each other’s dorms. Jordan wonders if you’ve been struggling to sleep like he has.

He hesitates, but goes to his room down the hall to grab his cologne. He spritzes it lightly over the bed and hopes you still find the way he smells comforting.

Next is your laundry. He starts up a few loads, irons and puts away the clothes that were sitting in a wrinkled heap on your couch. You’ve always hated doing your laundry.

He’s heading back to your room, a full laundry basket of clean clothes under each arm when you run into each other.

“Are those my clothes?” You ask, forgetting that you aren’t exactly speaking to him in your moment of confusion.

“Yeah… I’m… I was cleaning my room. Doing some stuff. Figured I’d do a few of your loads too, while I’m already at it.” He shoots for casualness, knows he fails miserably.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You say, words stiff and uncomfortable.

“I know I just…” Jordan shrugs, relieved to be standing within a few feet of you after days of silence, and feeling pathetic over how happy something so small makes him. “Why don’t you go get something to eat with Cate while I finish up here?”

“Finish up what?” You ask.

“I still gotta put these away.”

You sigh, wanting the conversation to end, “You don’t have to put my clothes away, Jordan. Or wash them. I’m quite capable of doing it myself.”

Jordan takes a step back when you make a reach for one of the baskets under his arms. “I know that! Just let me do it. Doing your laundry always pisses you off. I’ve got it.”

A battle of wills ignited. You, staring him down. Jordan, trying not to squirm. He wants to try apologizing again but doesn’t know if he’ll only make it worse.

“Please, baby? Go somewhere nice with Cate. My treat.” He puts down a laundry basket (behind him, so you can’t take it) to grab his phone from his pocket, and does something you can’t see.

When you hear the particular chime your banking app makes when you get a Zelle deposit you roll your eyes. You don’t bother checking your phone and seeing how much he sent. You know it’s too much. But if you say anything he’ll just say you and Cate have expensive tastes (which…true.)

“Maybe you can catch a movie too? I still gotta finish up with your bathroom.”

“Jordan.”

“Just,” Jordan shifts, putting down the other laundry basket and slowly reaching out to grab your hand with hers. She could almost cry when you let her touch you. “I know you’re fucking pissed at me. And I know you’re still too upset to talk about it. But…. fuck, please just let me take care of you. Please. I have to do something. I can’t just sit around, after I made you feel like this. It’s driving me nuts. I’m supposed to-”

You stop her, putting a hand on her cheek and sighing, “Okay, Jordan. I’ll go hang out with Cate while you finish.”

“Don’t ‘hang out’, go get dinner. You haven’t eaten all day.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you.” She says, sullen and staring up at you, playing with your fingers while you’re still letting her touch you, the first time in days.

“I’ll head to Cate’s.”

“Nah, head to Luke’s. They’re studying together right now.” Jordan takes a risk, stepping into your space slowly, giving you the time to move away. She leans in and kisses your cheek, gentle. When you don’t move away she can’t help herself, kisses the edge of your lips too.

You don’t kiss her back, but you give her hand a squeeze as you pull away. You stop halfway down the hall before you turn back to look at Jordan. “Call Cate and tell her she better not be fucking Luke by the time I get to his dorm.”

Jordan laughs. Your face is a little more relaxed as you turn away this time.

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On Friday the group goes out to the club. They chose one of your favorite haunts, hoping it would entice you enough to join. You still declined the invitation. Everyone knew you would. They still wanted to try.

You claimed you had a lot of work to catch up on.

“She hates me. She fucking hates me.” Jordan groans into his hands, already three drinks and two shots in.

“Well, let’s not panic.” Luke says.

“Or be dramatic.” Andre snorts, taking a shot of his own. “You two are obsessed with each other. Relax.”

“Relax?!” Jordan tenses, “My girl won’t fucking talk to me. How am I supposed to relax?”

“She talked to you yesterday.” Andre drawls.

“That wasn’t anything. We usually-”

“-Spend every free second of the day together? We know.” Luke teases. When Jordan doesn’t even smile he winces and slides him another shot.

“She’s not even that mad. She’s more upset than anything.” Cate says, cuddling into Luke’s side.

Jordan’s eyes follow the movement and he swallows at the distinct lack of your own weight leaning into him. You always get touchy when you’re tipsy. Climbing on top of him, clinging to him like glue. It’s his favorite part of nights out together. That and the playful booing you guys get from the group.

Andre cuts back in, “I’m serious, dude. Relax! You guys have been together for how long now-”

“Three years.”

“-yeah, exactly. Since the fucking building of the pyramids. You two will be fine. She knows you didn’t mean anything by it. One fight won’t kill you.”

“This wasn’t a fight, though. I fucked up! You didn’t see the look on her face. When she used her powers… I mean, fuck! You know? She was scared of me.”

“You know that’s not true, Jordan.” Luke protests.

Jordan runs his hands through his hair, ruining the carefully slicked back style.

“Let’s just get you another drink. Come on, dude.” Andre wraps an arm around Jordan, hauling him to his feet and pulling him towards the bar.

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You get woken up by the sound of knocking on your door. Loud knocking. You keep your eyes closed, hoping whoever it is will go away. You don’t even want to be awake. Let alone socializing.

The knocking gets louder. Exhausted, you drag yourself out of bed. You glance at your phone on the bedside table as you get up. It’s three in the morning. Now you’re exhausted and pissed.

You stomp over to the door, wrenching it open, prepared to cuss someone out. You deflate when you see who it is. “Oh, hey.”

Jordan is leaning heavily on the door frame, staring at you with watery, red eyes. She looks like the walking dead. “Baby. Fuck, did I wake you up? I thought you’d still be awake. You said you were pulling an all-nighter.”

“I was tired. Just wanted to sleep.” You shrug. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Still at the club, took an uber back. Too fucked up for anything else.” She mutters.

“That’s good, Jordan.” You say.

“You haven’t called me Jordan since freshman year. What happened to Jordie?” She sighs.

Your face softens. “Baby…”

“No, wait, just let me…” Jordan leans her forehead against the door-frame, closing her eyes tight. “I’m sorry. I fucked up big time. I’m sorry that when I get pissed I take it out on everyone around me. I’m sorry that I don’t fucking listen when you’re just trying to make me feel better. I’m sorry I yelled… I’m sorry I shift-”

“Whoa, hey.” You cut her off, shocked. “You shifting isn’t the problem, Jordan. Fuck, come inside, honey.” You say, taking her hand and pulling her inside.

You sit the two of you on the couch, clicking on the light so you can see each other. You move so you’re facing each other, pulling her hands into your lap. “First off let’s set one thing straight. You shifting is never the problem, okay?”

“You got so fucking scared.” Jordan looks away, hair falling into her face.

“Not of you.. Just the fucking… optics of it! I don’t ever want you to be something you’re not. And you’ve got the incredible gift of being able to be whatever you feel like being any time you want to.” You reach out and touch her cheek, guiding her to look at you, “I don’t want you to not do that. I wouldn’t ever want you not to do that, okay?”

“Okay.” She says. There’s a moment of silence, then Jordan shifts. He looks for any sign of fear or hesitation, holding his breath. When he doesn’t see any he relaxes. “But I scared you so bad you used your powers.”

“Yeah, that did happen.” You nod, caressing his cheek with your thumb, “Maybe it’s just a little scary when someone bigger and stronger than me starts yelling like that. Also, invulnerable. Let’s not forget that. Food for thought.”

He closes his eyes, “I’m an idiot.”

“For yelling at me? Yeah, just a little. Don’t yell at me like that no matter what form you’re in. That's always scary. Couples talk. They don’t yell. Most of the time. We can’t be the couple that does that.”

“I’ll never yell like that again. Either form. I promise.” Jordan says, “Can I hold you? It’s been a fucking week. I’m losing my mind.”

You laugh, climbing into his lap and Jordan sighs, wrapping his arms around you as tightly as he can. He tucks your head into his neck. “I missed you like fucking crazy.”

“Missed you too.” You sigh, “Stay the night?”

“You’re not leaving my sight for the next two months.” He laughs, pulling you closer.

“Only two months? That’s fucked up, I thought you missed me.” You tease.

“Shut up.” He scoffs, kissing the side of your head.

You snuggle closer, letting the tension of the week drift away.

“You yell at me like that again and your only hope is being invulnerable, actually. I’ll put you through a wall.” You kiss his shoulder cheerfully.

“I’d do it before you got the chance.”

You burst into laughter and he pulls your head away from his shoulder so he can see you the way you’re supposed to look around him. Happy. Content. He can’t stop himself from kissing you. You can’t stop yourself from kissing back.

#jordan li x reader #jordan li imagine #jordan li #gen v x reader #black!reader #first full jordan li fic! super fun to right nonny i am kissing you on the mouth this was INSPIRING #if you see any grammar or spelling errors no you don't lmao

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 month

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WIBTA for reporting my coworker friend to hr for harassing our other coworker friend?

(🥩🦎 to find later)

I (23nb) work at a food service place and always close with the same two people one day of the week, we'll call these people N (20m) and Red (19nb). We all met at work and being closest in age with each other compared to most of the other people there plus having similar-ish interests, we started hanging out with each other outside of work

Red is the kind of person who overshares with people right after meeting them, and N is the kind of person who rarely takes anything seriously and thinks its funny to pretend to be a jerk and bigot (hes the only cis white neurotypical guy at work while red and i are both trans and autistic and I'm black), so Red has shared a lot of their trauma and past with the both of us and N typically uses it to jokingly bully them

Now most of the time Red and I are okay with N's jokes, and we make it clear where our boundaries are and N usually respects this with the exception of a few times we've had to make it very clear where our boundaries are after he's crossed them. But lately N keeps poking at one particular thing of Red's that is especially triggering for them, and this has happened two weeks in a row now. I don't know what this thing is specifically because both times I've been just out of earshot when the topic has been brought up, Ive just been told by Red that it has to do with the worst thing that's ever happened to them.

Both times this has happened Red has, understandably, gotten really upset and angry at N, and N only apologized for it the first time it happened. This week when it happened apparently he only started to make a joke about it but then stopped before he finished it because he thought better of it, but it was still enough for Red to figure out what N was gonna say and be upset about it.

I've tried to explain to N why even if he didn't completely say the joke he was going to make it still hurt Red, but he just sort of threw a tantrum about not understanding why he was getting in trouble for something he didn't say and concluded that it would be better to say it outright if he's going to get in trouble just for thinking it anyways.

I've also tried to convince Red to either just stop joking around with N while at work or report him to our manager or hr themself, but they're standing firm on that it shouldn't even be an issue to begin with and that it wouldn't be if N could learn to think before he speaks.

I'm also convinced that Red would feel bad if they reported N because he's been reported by other coworkers in the past year and everyone we work with including our manager often pokes fun at him to varying degrees of intensity and they might feel bad if he lost his job because they reported him. (Red has a second job somewhere else while this is N's full time job)

My concern is that N is actively making Red feel unsafe and uncomfortable, and I also feel uncomfortable both in knowing that N would carelessly cross our boundaries for the bit and also because of the tense and awkward atmosphere in the workplace that has followed immediately after both times he's done it. I don't want to have to deal with that and I'm pretty sure Red doesn't want to either.

I told N right when I learned that he'd joked about Red's trauma again that he was on strike 2, and i plan on telling N and Red both that i plan to take action if it happens next time i work with both of them.

WIBTA for following through and reporting N? Am I overstepping into a situation I'm barely involved in?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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rowritesstuff · 9 months

Text

Avoidance (Nikolai Lantsov x Female Reader)

A/N: Heyyyy... it's been a minute... soooo, I could just drop this without saying anything about my disappearance from Tumblr (I mean, I've still been active, but I haven't posted anything), but I figured I should say something. I'm fine. Life's good. I just didn't have the motivation to write. Anyways, this probably sucks ass, but here ya go.

Ro's Masterpost

WORD COUNT: 2.3k words

WARNINGS: SMUT, friends to lovers, argument/yelling, oral (f receiving), unprotected P in V (please use a condom), fingering (kinda).

You laughed while Nikolai told the story of a shared childhood memory he had recalled earlier in the day.

You had been seven years old and it was Nikolai's eighth birthday. Another noble boy, the son of a count, you believed, bullied Nikolai throughout his entire birthday party, and you had made it your sole mission to ruin the boy's life, or day at the very least.

You had actually succeeded. You had known that his parents didn't allow him to eat sweets, so you managed to convince him to have one of every pastry served at the party, of which there were quite a few, with it being a young prince's birthday party.

"The poor boy's parents were fuming when they caught him with his face covered in frosting," you cackled and Nikolai threw a pillow from your sofa, which you were both sitting on, at you, which only made you laugh harder.

"I believe they banned him from any social events for a month because of that incident." Nikolai took a small sip of his whiskey.

"I still think he deserved it."

"Oh, of course."

You settled in a comfortable silence, sipping your drinks, chuckling every few seconds. Nikolai scooted closer to you on the couch, moving the pillow he had thrown at you off your lap and next to him.

You leaned your head on his shoulder. He took a deep inhale before wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you a little closer to him as he took a final sip of his whiskey. Noticing that you had also finished your drink, he took your glass and placed both yours and his on the table in front of you before settling back into you.

"For the record, I would do the same thing for you," Nikolai said, breaking the silence.

You snorted. "You have done the same thing. Remember when we were sixteen? We had just enlisted and that stupid asshole-"

You were interrupted by Nikolai's lips crashing onto yours, pulling you into a kiss. You tensed up for just a few seconds, but before you could return the kiss, he pulled away and turned his body away from you.

"Nik."

Nikolai gathered his coat from your couch and stood up, leaving your room without another word.

Your jaw dropped at the shock that he just left right after kissing you without even giving you a chance to say anything.

Nikolai avoided you for two weeks. Anytime you tried to speak to him he would walk away as if he had somewhere to be. Which, with him being a king, he very well may have had somewhere to be, but it was still rude.

Since he wouldn't come to you, you would go to him. No matter if it was the middle of the night.

You banged on his door, aggressively knocking until he finally opened the door.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he hissed. "It's late. You should be sleeping."

"So should you, but you're not even dressed for bed," you slipped past him and entered his room, stopping at a small table covered in piles of documents of work and you picked one up, "and you're working."

Nikolai closed his door behind you and leaned his back against the wall. "Well, you're dressed for bed." He gestured to the robe that was wrapped around you, covering your nightgown. "Why are you here?"

You dropped the paper back on the table. "I'm here because you kissed me two weeks ago and you have been avoiding me since." He lowered his head to avoid your gaze. "I deserve an explanation."

"I shouldn't have kissed you."

You stomped over to Nikolai. "Says who?"

"Me!" He pointed to his chest. "I shouldn't have put you in that position!"

"If you had waited one more second I would have kissed you back! I was just shocked because I didn't think you returned my feelings for you!"

Nikolai shook his head. "We're not doing this."

"Why?"

He gripped your arms, not nearly enough to hurt you, and pulled your body closer to his. He lowered his lips to your ear. "Because if we start, I won't want to stop," he whispered.

"And what if I don't want you to stop?"

He pulled back from you a little, looking into your eyes. E/C eyes that showed your love for him, your desire for him, and your anger toward him for ignoring you for two weeks.

He swallowed and moved his hands from gripping your upper arms to your lower back, covered by that damn silk robe. He had seen you in it many times before and he considered each moment a blessing. It was your favorite color and it suited your body perfectly.

"Are you sure?"

You nodded. "Yes."

Now having your permission, he spun the two of you, you now pinned against the wall he was previously leaning on. He captured your lips against his, pushing you even closer to the wall while one of your hands landed on the nape of his neck, curling into the short hair there, and the other went to his upper back, pushing him closer to your body.

He obliged your hand's desire, pressing himself against you. His lips wandered from yours to your jaw, then down to your neck. You let out a sigh as you moved your head to the side to give him more access. In appreciation, he sucked a hickey into your neck.

As Nikolai kissed down your body, your hand gripped his hair. Once he was fully kneeling in front of you, he looked up into your eyes as he untied the tie of your robe. He opened the silk fabric, giving him full view of your nightgown-covered body. He pressed a kiss to your clothed hip bone and looked up at you again. "Can you please take your robe off, darling?"

You pushed the robe off your shoulders and let it fall down your arms, dropping it into a pool of silk at your feet. Taking advantage of the robe on the floor, Nikolai placed it under his knees to protect himself from kneeling on the hard floors.

Nikolai dragged his fingers up your leg into your nightgown, pushing it up to your waist. You took the nightgown off and threw it off to the side.

You were left in only your underwear that blocked the one thing Nikolai had on his mind in that moment.

"Can I take these off?" he asked.

"Yes," you whispered.

He dragged the small garment down your legs, lifting your feet to completely remove them from your body.

He took a moment to drink in the visual of your completely naked body. You were perfect. You were the only Saint that he would ever worship, and he intended to do just that.

He nudged your right leg a little bit away from your left, giving you the hint to spread your legs. Once you were where he wanted you, his hands went to your hips and he gave them little massages as he moved his face closer to you.

You took deep breaths as you watched him move closer until he finally placed a kiss on your clit. You gasped, one hand returning to his hair and the other holding onto the doorframe next to you for support.

Nikolai kissed wet, open-mouthed kisses around your pussy, leaving you gasping and moaning while he kept looking up at your face. He kissed and licked and sucked at your entrance and your grip tightened on his messy blond curls.

He licked from your entrance to your clit, closing his eyes as he sucked at it. Your hand moved from his hair to the back of his head to push his face closer into you. After a little fluttering of his tongue on your pussy, then your clit, a high overcame you, making you lean your head back on the wall. One of Nikolai's hands came up to your side to massage it as he worked you through the orgasm, greedily licking at all of your wetness until you pushed his head away.

He smiled as he fell to the floor before he stood back up, holding you against him as he kissed your cheek, whispering praises into your ear while you recovered.

"I've got you, sweetheart. I've got you."

You pulled him into a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. Slowly, you began making your way to Nikolai's bed until you hit his mattress. You fell down onto the bed, Nikolai following, placing himself on top of you.

You broke the kiss and scrambled to unbutton Nikolai's shirt. Your hands were still shaking, making it difficult to undo the buttons. Noticing your shaking hands, Nikolai took hold of your hands, stopping you. He pressed light kisses on your fingertips.

"Go ahead and lay on the pillows. I'll be right there."

You scooted yourself up his mattress, laying your head comfortably on his pillows as he had asked you to. Only a moment later, Nikolai was crawling above you, completely bare. You looked down his body from his chest, and lower, and lower.

Nikolai gently lifted your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye. He pressed a soft kiss in between your eyebrows. "Have you done this before?" he asked.

You nodded. You had had a few flings in your lifetime, as you were sure Nikolai did too, especially during his time as Sturmhond. He had his own flings on the Volkvolny, as did you.

"Good. I'll give you as much time as you need to adjust and if you ever need me to stop, you let me know. I don't want to hurt you."

You gave him a quick kiss. "You could never hurt me. Except for when you avoided me for two weeks, but- Saints."

His cock entering you interrupted you, though it was quite the pleasant interruption. He filled you slowly and perfectly. Nikolai kissed your cheek as his hips met yours. You took some deep breaths as you got used to the feeling of his cock inside of you. Finally, you gave him a ready nod.

Nikolai started off slowly and it wasn't until you asked him to go faster that he sped up. He kissed you deeply as he fucked you. You moaned into those kisses, the feeling of his cock sending you into euphoria.

"Fuck!" you cursed. "A little harder please?"

He obeyed, going just a bit harder, but enough to have you seeing stars. Your hand started moving down your body to rub at your clit, but Nikolai swatted your hand away and rubbed your clit in small circles himself.

Your hands returned to his hair for the millionth time that night, gripping the blond tufts. He gasped.

"Shit, can you pull it harder?"

You tugged on his hair, making him moan loudly. You smiled as you continued pulling on his hair, loving the sounds that escaped him at the feeling.

He began thrusting into you rougher, bringing you closer and closer to the edge of orgasm.

"Nik, fuck! I'm so close!"

Nikolai rubbed at your clit harder. "Me too. Where do you want it?"

"In me! Just-" You groaned, your orgasm overcoming you.

Nikolai wasn't far behind you. It was only a few seconds after your orgasm when you felt his cum shoot into you. He stilled, peppering kisses on your forehead and cheeks.

After you recovered, he slowly pulled out of you, rolling off you and onto the bed to your right. He opened a drawer in his nightstand, grabbed something, and closed it before rolling back to face you and handing you the Alkemi contraceptive. You drank it and he took the empty bottle, placing it on top of the nightstand.

He pulled you closer to him, where your side was tucked close to his torso. The both of you rested in this position for a few moments, you laying on your back, him on his side.

"I'm an idiot," Nikolai said quietly.

You smiled. "Congratulations, you've finally caught up with the rest of us."

He gently pinched your side before lightly laughing.

"What I mean is I shouldn't have avoided you. I shouldn't have left your room that night without letting you say or do anything. I'm sorry."

Your thumb rubbed his cheek. "Apology accepted. On one condition. You tell me how long you've been in love with me."

Nikolai groaned. "My eighth birthday party is when it started. When I saw how determined you were to ruin that idiot's life over him being mean to me."

You laughed. "Wow. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't that."

"Now it's your turn."

You shook your head. "I'm not the one who owed an apology."

Nikolai raised his brows. "Fine. Since you don't want to tell me..."

He moved his hand from your side to your clit, rubbing small circles again. You threw your head back on the pillows, cursing.

"Shit, Nik."

He didn't stop. He kept rubbing your clit, occasionally dipping into your pussy for more moisture. He sped up his motions until you came once again. He gathered all of the wetness on his fingers and licked it all off.

"When we were 16 and had just enlisted. That asshole Novikov was harassing me. You punched him in the face one day. Three times. You broke his nose. That's when I fell in love with you."

"Awww. We both fell in love with each other when we harmed other people." He kissed your forehead. "Should we be concerned about that?"

"Probably, but right now, I want to sleep."

Nikolai hummed in response, pulling the blankets over the two of you. You turned to lay on your side as he got up to blow out all of the candles. When he finally got back in bed, he pulled you into him, your back against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you.

"I love you," Nikolai whispered.

You closed your eyes. "I love you, too."

"Good night."

You softly smiled to yourself. "Good night."

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov smut #nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #grishaverse #rowritesstuff

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sleepingpillscosmos · 3 months

Text

STUPID GIFTS AND A NEW MILESTONE — jean kirstein

pairing: jean kirstein x fem!reader.

warnings/content: modern AU. implied past sex activity if you squint. reader cries but it's because she's happy.

wc: 1.3k.

a/n: hi hi hi @stopisa, this is your gift from me, your cupid <3 I hope you'll enjoy this fic and I hope you passed a wonderful day! I saw Jean was one of your preferred ones and I've wanted to write for him for a long time so I took this opportunity to do it!

You finished packing for tonight, remembering to put your gifts beside the bag so that you wouldn’t forget them.

It was Valentine’s day, every couple probably decided to go out and eat at a fancy restaurant, but you and Jean opted to stay at home and relax. You both had a hell of a week, so it was the only thing that didn’t require too much effort while spending time together.

As you left your apartment, you sent a quick text to Jean, letting him know that you would be there in about twenty minutes or so.

After you arrived at his apartment you rang the doorbell and Jean opened the door almost immediately.

“Were you waiting for me at the door like a dog?” You said jokingly as you hugged him.

Even though you lived close, you often didn’t have the time to see each other. You both worked, had classes at university and your own lives, so even if you really wished to spend time together everyday, you couldn’t.

You also had different friends. You met Connie, Armin, Eren, Mikasa and Sasha at the very start of your relationship, but they were all childhood friends and you didn’t want to intrude every time they hung out, even if they told you multiple times that it didn’t bother them. Jean met your friends a couple months into your relationship, but it didn’t go as smoothly. Jean and Reiner already knew each other and they weren’t, and still are, on bad terms. Your boyfriend always kept it civil for your sake, but you can’t blame him when he doesn’t want to hang out with you all, which is rare anyway.

“Would I sound pathetic if I said yes?” He asked as he squeezed you harder, leaving a couple of kisses on the side of your head.

“Don’t worry, I already know you are.” He scoffed, breaking the hug while you chuckled. He grabbed your cheeks with both his hands as he closed the distance between you to rest his forehead against yours, you moved your hands to his waist.

“Hi,” Jean said looking in your eyes, “Happy Valentine’s day, sweetheart.”

You smiled muttering, “Happy Valentine’s day to you too, love.”

His smile widened before he kissed you gently. It didn’t matter how long you two have been together, his heart always skipped a beat when you called him that. He just felt so loved and appreciated when you used pet names, but that was with no doubt his favourite.

Once you were both in need of some air, you broke the kiss. You took off your shoes and went to Jean’s bedroom to leave your things and get changed in your pyjamas while he prepared your luxurious dinner, cup noodles.

When you got back in the living room, Jean was already waiting for you on the couch, noodles placed on the little table in front of him, blanket beside him and remote in hand already choosing the series you were slowly watching together.

“I hope you didn’t watch episodes without me.” you teased, sitting beside him and covering the both of you with the blanket before grabbing your noodles.

“It happened one time!” He defended himself.

“And since that day I know that I can’t trust you. What kind of boyfriend would do that?” You clutched your heart with a hurt expression. He looked at you smirking, “Connie doesn’t count.”

He sighed defeated, then he pushed play with the remote, to finally let your night start.

[...]

“Okay time for the gifts!” You exclaimed, clapping your hands together. It was your favourite part of the day, not because you were materialistic, but because of your tradition together. It started randomly, but since the first Valentine’s day you spent together it’s stuck with you.. Your tradition consisted of two gifts, one is the real or serious one and the other is the stupidest thing you could think of.

One year you gifted him a pair of slippers. To be exact, horse slippers. Honestly, he loved them, but his friends even more, especially Eren.

“You start.” He said since he knew you couldn’t keep your mouth shut for too long. You nodded happily and handed him the first gift, the stupid one. He opened the bag and found a mug, which looked like it was plain, but when he turned it he read the phrase “I love you for your personality, but that dick is a great bonus.” written in black.

“No, you didn’t!” He gasped, covering his mouth with his free hands, he was nearly crying from laughing so hard. This was one of the best gifts hands down. “I need to send a photo to Connie and Eren right now.”

He quickly took a photo of the mug and sent it to the group chat with the boys, then he hugged and kissed you, thanking you a hundred times and saying this would become his everyday mug.

“Okay, here’s my stupid one for you,” he handed you the package and you didn’t waste a second to open it. It was a pair of socks, but you couldn’t really understand what was printed on them at first. Once you looked at them better, you realised.

“What the actual fuck is this.” You said laughing. There was a face printed on them. Jean’s face. “They’re horrible. I love them.”

You hugged him and finally gave him the real present, even if he told you that nothing could surpass the mug.

This year you went for something more cheesy. You saw he was looking for a chain necklace on the internet since his broke a couple of months ago, but he never bought one, he couldn’t set his mind on a specific one. So you researched for the perfect one, you spent weeks finding it, and then you had both his and your initials engraved on the inside of the necklace.

“I don’t know what to say, really” He stared at the necklace like it was the most beautiful and precious thing in the world, inspecting every centimetre of it. Then he saw the engraved initials and his brain malfunctioned for a good 10 seconds.

He thanked you again, hugging you so hard that you struggled to breathe for a moment, then he took your next present in his hands.

“There’s something I want to say before you open this,” he started, fidgeting with the box in his hands. “We talked about this thing multiple times, mostly joking, but I think it’s the right thing to do now. We’ve been together for a long time, and I love you so, so much. We’ve been through a lot, and even now we’re still struggling with some things. Like spending time together because we’re so busy. But I think you’re my person, honestly I kind of always thought that, and I hope you think the same. So, after thinking about this day and night for a very long time, and after a push by Mikasa and Sasha, this is my gift for you.”

He handed you the box and you opened it with teary eyes from the sweet words he just used.

You found two keys and a little keychain with a phrase from your song, “These are the keys for my apartment. I want to ask you to come and live here with me, so that we don’t have to worry about finding time for each other since we’ll always come home, our home.”

Now you were crying. You couldn’t find the right words to voice your love for him and your gratitude for the gift. You hugged him again, wetting his shirt with your happy tears and mumbling a soft thank you, and that yes, you thought that he was your person too.

No, you knew that he was your person.

network: @enchantedforest-network.

#jean kirstein #kirstein jean #jean kirstein x reader #kirstein jean x reader #jean kirstein imagine #kirstein jean imagine #jean kirstein x you #kirstein jean x you #jean x reader #kirstein x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan x you #attack on titan fic #enchantedforestnetwork #⊹₊ ⋆ sleepingpill — fics

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the---hermit · 8 months

Text

Nothing better that a over the garden wall rewatch while crocheting to put me in the best autumn mood.

13|09|202

It's been a couple of very low energy days, my mood has been going up and down, and I am in one of those weeks in which I would just like to wrap myself up into a blanket like a human burrito and hybernate. I've embraced feeling low and I have been doing as little as I can, trying to ret since I feel so tired. It's honestly better if I feel like this this week instead of the next, since I will be back into my studying routine.

cozy hobbit autumn activities of the past few days:

cleaned up the house

sat down to write letters (I still have a few to write and I think I'll be doing that in the next couple of mornings, taking my time and putting as much care as I can in writing them)

reawatched over the garden wall

continued working on my crochet cardigan (I finished the back panel and I am now working on the first front panel)

got new yarn and asked the store if they can order a bit more because it wasn't enough, the good news is they can the bad news is that it might end up being a slightly different colour (hopefully what I have left at home now is enough to make both the front panels, so if the colour is different it will be on the sleeves and that could work well anyway)

replied to lots of texts, but I have been good with myself and I simply waited a bit more when I was feeling overwhealmed and had no social batteries

continued practicing Irish on duolingo before bed

tried my best to read a bit before bed (it's an habit that comes and goes for me, and lately I have no been that good with it, but last night I read for over half an hour, so that's a win)

📖: The Sculptor by Scott McCloud

#studyblr #studyinspo #book #bookblr #journal #journaling #productivity #self care #cozy hobbit autumn #reading #knife gang #mine #the---hermit

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etirabys · 1 year

Text

on jogging

I took up jogging 2.5 months ago. I'm going off the c25k schedule, which slowly ramps you up from couch potato fitness to being able to run a 5k. This was much more effective than just trying to get into jogging by mimicking other, fitter, joggers, which was what I did every previous time I briefly tried to get into jogging. I feel embarrassed for never having thought of this before – it's clear that 'my brain was off' in those times when I went mimicry-running.

One issue that made me get into jogging so ineffectively: I didn't realize how terrible my starting physical fitness was. I used to think I was… like… normal? No athlete, for sure, but I'm a "normal amount of miserable" on hikes (and can complete most of them), I'm an intermediate boulderer, I rarely notice activities I'm gated from because of fitness. But when I started c25k with three partners, none of whom regularly jogged, they were all significantly less winded than I was.

And for the first dang time in my life I explicitly had a thought that went, "I can run 1 minute before my body forces me to stop. My partners can run 3-4 minutes. Some people can run 30 minutes."

Once I actually had any sense of "jogging levels" it was so clear how close to the bottom I was when I started out. That gives me some hope that being much fitter will solve my fatigue problems?

I used to be able to run 1 minute, and now I can run 2. By one (terrible but also kind of reasonable?) metric, I'm twice as fit as I used to be. But a nontrivial fraction of the population can jog 30 consecutive minutes! It seems worth getting to that point to see what that does to my energy levels / cognition.

–

Also: I haven't been sticking to the c25k schedule. I go 1.5 times a week where it expects 3, and I stuck a level between week 2 and week 3 because the 1.5m->3m jump looked insane to me. I've been on that custom level 2.5 for a month. I had a mindblowing conversation with the giant and 81k yesterday where I went, yeah, I've been stuck at week 2.5 because I've felt unready for week 3. And they said, that's probably because you're not going enough.

What do you mean? I asked. I've run about a full session and a half session every week for four weeks. Isn't that the same as 3 full sessions every week for two weeks?

No, they said, surprised I didn't know this. There's an optimal timing. If you'd probably stuck literally to the c25k schedule you probably could have gone from level 2 to 3 in a week.

GYARJRGH? I said. FUSBARIJIJJLK?

(I still disbelieve the literal claim that I can go to level 3 after doing level 2 properly, but I believe them that I would be leveling up a lot faster if I stuck to the schedule)

–

Anyway, some things I'd like to say to my past self, who felt obligated to work out for fatigue issues and then proceeded to exercise very badly because there was such a big ugh field around the topic of exercise:

You do not realize how big the gap between you and even moderately athletic people is. This is good, actually. It means that the correct place to start is easier than you think.

You should try to do it like 3 times a week. Date a jock. There are some on tumblr

Consider starting this when you have positive pressure rather than negative pressure. When you're buckling under multiple joy-sparking projects and want to rise to the challenge, it will be much easier to start & stick to it than when you're an anhedonic lump who has nothing to look forward to, but knows that exercise will in theory make life better in some vague way.

#rambl #c25k

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stil-lindigo · 4 months

Note

hello lindi! i've been following you since you were starting out pulse, and it's been an honour to see you grow both as an artist and as a person⏤the way you approach sociopolitical issues with strength and optimism is simply incredible, and it teaches me a lot about my relationship with activism as well.

in that vein, i wanted to ask a question. on twitter, i've seen people asking others to completely cut down on posting personal art or about special interests and focus 100% on talking about palestine for the whole week. while i am doing it the best i can, i have some reservations and doubts about this approach of striking, especially since it's not a sentiment i'm seeing on any other social media platform or even on different twitter communities.

i just wanted to get your opinion on this⏤do you think it's effective or necessary? i fear i may be being too pessimistic about it, which is the last thing i want to do.

thank you always, i hope these asks aren't wearing on you.

hello anon :) It inspires a lot of awe in me that you're still here after four (five?) years - i'm extremely honoured and humbled to have earned your patronage for so long.

for the twitter/social media strike, I have the stance where I don't think the message for palestine is dampened by people still posting about their special interests, mainly for a few reasons.

While it would have been incredibly powerful to have a general posting blackout besides pro-palestine messages, it was never going to realistically happen. There are people who aren't online who won't learn about the strike until it's too late, people who maintain a main and an alt and only post fandom stuff on the alt (which is private or has 12 followers so who cares, they'll post their genshin husbands), people who just prioritise their escapism over anything else. I can't hold it against them too, because trying to impose a "you can ONLY post about palestine" decree (even for just a week) will breed resentment in droves, which i think would make the movement lose steam incredibly fast. For most people, social media is escapism. It's a privilege afforded to those who can turn off their phone, or close a tab and leave all the horrors behind. But at the end of the day, we all do it, and to some extent I think that balance is necessary so that you stay sane. Activism is a lifestyle, not a brief stint, where balance has to be maintained to make sure you can do as much as you can for as long as you can.

You kind of have to realise that nobody can reach through a screen and police someone's social media use or thoughts. I've been observing the general rules of the strike, but to be fair I'm in the boat where that's not very different to how I've been posting for the past few months anyway, so it's no big sacrifice on my part. There are people out there on social media right now who deserve shame for their "escapism". The type to proudly boast about muting words like "palestine", "israel", "genocide" - they're callous, and cruel, and lonely souls searching for a brief high in attention and outrage. But I am seeing people on my feed observe the strike, I am seeing more resources about Palestine, I am seeing dipshits get shamed. The strike's goal to push Palestine resources to the forefront of the feed, to get it trending, has (so far) been working.

So...this was longwinded but - tldr; we were always gonna have people who prioritised their fandom over a genocide so you can't really be too disappointed by it (well, you can, but I'm not since it's just a "*shrug* that's how most people are"-type situation) but there are people who are observing the strike halfway and people who are doing it all the way and they're lifting us all up, so the strike's call to action did work and is currently doing what it's supposed to.

#long post #i always write too much for these but. yeah. just wanted to explain it as well as i could #also. again. im not enlightened or more educated than the average joe #im in my 20s and very online and an artist. this is the perspective of someone who is...that.#thats all #you can disagree if you want i dont really care #just do it while supporting palestine #palestine #free palestine #free gaza #free west bank

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thr-333 · 16 days

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I just realized. I don't think I've seen anything about April in OaaHF. Where is she? What does she do in the resistence? How aware is she of Leon's situation?

Set while Leon is recovering from his first facial scar:

“No, no way!”

Leon groaned as the yell woke him, sound getting choked out by the bandages wrapped tight around his neck. Constricting his airway making it so he could never get a full breath, was always light headed. Although that could be the bloodloss.

“We need his portals, its not a-”

“I don’t care if it’s a transport mission, I don’t care if he’s at the very back line, you are not getting him out of that bed,”

Leon scrunched up his face so he wouldn’t have to deal with the light of day. Or the light of med bay. He wanted to go back to sleep and it wasn’t even the yelling that was stopping him. Pain flared along his face and shoulder in tandem with his heartbeat. Bandages pulled meticulously tight making every throb worse.

“It’s not an active mission, I’ve mapped out the points all Kraang will be avoided-”

“Then you do it!”

That voice, Leon knew it even past the haze pain. Probably helped that there were no painkillers available to keep him floaty. He sighed his big sisters voice was always soothing, well when she wasn’t yelling at him. Although he supposed she technically was.

“Ape’s I’m needed here,” Leo reasoned, his voice was deep and raspy. Huh Leon wondered if his voice sounded closer to it now, “I can’t up and leave the resistance without aleader for a minor mission,”

“So you admit it’s a minor mission!” April accused, Leon tried to open his eyes. The best he could make out was a couple of blurry figures until the light forced him to shut them.

“Minor but needed, lives are at stake here April,”

“His life is at stake!” Leon opened his mouth, but his throat was raw and the skin of his cheek pulled weirdly threatening to make him throw up if he tried. He tried anyway, why should be matter? “If he moves that wound, the wound you gave him is going to tear right open, he won’t survive that a second time,”

“April it was an accident, my hand slipped,”

His future self was right of course. After all he had been the one to sacrifice his scarf to keep as much blood inside Leon’s body as possible. He had literally held Leon’s life in his hands. You didn’t do that for a person you were actually trying to kill… no matter how much it looked lik you wanted to seconds before.

That was fine. It was an accident. Leon shouldn’t have baited him.

“Bullshit, also I don’t give a crap, he’s not ready for field work!”

“The doctor cleared him,”

“Which you know they shouldn’t have!” April screeched, ugh Leon wished she wouldn’t, “Come on Leo you're a medic, just look at him!”

There was silence. Leon held still pretending to be asleep. Which was easy as he was teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. Only the jabs of pain and his sister keeping him present.

“It’s between him and them,”

“Him, everytime, my little brother should come first everytime,” Leon’s heart didn’t know if it should skip a beat or clench. It was the answer he wanted to hear- but one he was completely undeserving of.

“I can’t play favorites,”

“Plaaeesseee,” The pure amount of sarcasm poured into the tone would have shot three men dead, “Is that why Mikey’s locked up in the underground bunker within an underground bunker, deep fried and finished with magic?”

“April-”

“Or how about Donnie’s lab, which is enforced with thirty percent of our titanium stores?” Leo would have rolled his eyes if they wouldn't just keep rolling back into his head. Obviously it wasn’t a matter of favoritism, his brothers were simply more important than him, “And how me and Cassie keep getting shortlisted missions? Junior hasn’t left your side in months and you haven't left this safehold in a year? Yet guess who’s going on missions every other week?”

“It’s all a matter of circumstance,” Leo’s voice took on a cold and harsh tone, “I’m trying to keep everyone alive for the sak-”

“Everyone but Leon,”

She called him Leon… when had he become Leon? When has he started solely thinking of himself as Leon? Why was his futureself exclusively Leo? The thoughts were to hard to capture, slipping through his hands like sand. He wasn’t sure he wanted to dwell on them anyway.

“Well sucks for you but I care about keeping him alive, even if you don’t,”

That wasn’t fair, he cared about Leon he did, as much as he could. Leon didn’t make it easy, after… after everything he caused. He couldn’t blame his future self for being a bit weird. He cared where it counted. Leon would’ve been dead three times over now if he didn’t.

“This mission is needed-”

“I’ll go then,”

No, April

“April, No,”

“If it’s so important you need to drag him out of bed and risk reopening the slice you put in his neck then it’s important enough for I, commander O’Neil to take over,”

“You’re not who you are in the future, you’re not Commander O’Neil,”

“And I never will be if you keep coddling,” April spat, “Besides I don’t care about being a commander right now, I care about being a sister, so it’s either I take the mission or you cancel it,”

The silence stretched on. Leon grasped onto his threads of consciousness. Purposely twitching his shoulder to get the fiery pain to keep him awake. It was amazing how something could fill him with so much dread yet he still selfishly felt hope that they would go through with it. Because he was selfish, rather stay hidden away in bed in a back room of the stronghold while his big sister fronted all the danger.

“Fine,” Relief and dread, unfortunately not in equal measure, “You come back alive understand?”

“Oh darn, there go my plans,” April tossed back, a shade closer to her usual teasing tone but still tense.

Leo didn’t answer. Because he was Leo, even in Leon’s own mind. But the older turtle huffed. Leon listened to his footsteps fade as Aprils got closer. The dip in his bed bit him to open his eyes.

“Heya blue, you awake?” April’s hand gently brushed his forehead, Leon cringed as he opened his eyes, “How’re you doing?”

He couldn’t answer, not really. So he leaned into her palm. Flinching as the small movement pulled on his wound from neck to cheek. He hissed through the pain. Tight bandages around his throat feeling suffocating as he would have struggled to breath even without them.

“Sorry, sorry, just wanted to check in,” The details of Aprils face were hard to make out pain blurring them out, “I’m going away for a mission,”

“Do… t,” Leon tried to sound out, it didn’t come anywhere close, but hey look at that: His voice was raspy.

“Don’t worry about me, it’s my job to worry about you,” She pat his cheek, thumb rubbing soft circles under his eye, “Seriously, please, it’s ok to care about yourself, you should, once in a whil- actually all the time,”

Leon shook his head imperceptibly. She was wrong. He had done that, over and over again. Each time they lost so much. He couldn’t, not anymore. Why couldn’t she understand that?

Leo understood that. He knew what it was like to sit with that guilt, that self hate. He knew how to work for others to ease that feeling even a little bit. As losses stacked everyday and crushed him under their weight.

“I bet your thinking something stupid right now,” April pinched his opposite cheek, the unscarred one that showed off his brilliant red stripe, “I wish you were better so I could beat my love into your skull, but we’ll have to save that for when I get back,”

Leon plucked up the strength to use his right arm. Greaspoing Aprils loosely. He needed to get his point across, even without words, he had to.

“I will be alright, you rest up,” April moved from his grasp to instead thread their fingers together, “I’m your big sister, I’m always going to look out for you, even if I have to do that by not being here,”

No, no that wasn’t what he meant. Leo jerked to grab her again. White hot flares shot through his shoulder. Fuck, wrong arm. Darkness clawed at the edge of his vision, plusing in time with the pain searing through him.

“You’re so………. Don’t let anyone convince you…..” April's voice faded in and out, “ We have always…….. None of this………… alright Leon?”

Leon, that was the last word he caught before his world faded to black. The last thing he heard his sister say.

When he woke up.

She was gone.

#One and a Half Futures #oaahf #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #future leo #rise #tmnt

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fortyfive-forty · 1 month

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i've been ruminating a lot on it because i think i'm bad at putting my thoughts into words but i need y'all to understand that while there are absolutely a lot of Not Good Things about the finals being held in saudi arabia for three years...the way people seem to treat is as morally black and white is shortsighted and unhelpful.

realistically the players traveling there will be protected. it may be uncomfortable, it's certainly not ideal, but they will travel there for a few weeks, play their tennis, then leave. there are a lot of women, a lot of queer people who actually live in saudi arabia who cannot just leave, who are actually subjected to laws and social climates...and to me it just seems very disrespectful to that actual lived experience, for everybody to sort of turn their noses up and get on their high horses. of course, if the players wish to opt out, that is their choice, but that is their choice to make. that's their judgement. not ours.

and then, what about a tournament like miami? florida is literally experiencing one of the worst active regressions that i've seen in the us (granted i'm young). things like critical race theory and lgbtq+ ed are being removed from curriculums, rights for trans youth, trans healthcare, etc. are going backwards. abortion rights? gun violence? and yes i know that the laws and climate in saudi arabia are different gravy, i understand that, but my point is, no one would ever DREAM of arguing against hosting a tournament in miami despite all of these issues. and we can extend this to a lot of other tournaments! i mean, all the outrage about fifa hosting a world cup in qatar, but we don't have any of these sentiments about doha? i've seen other people bring up that the finals were hosted in singapore when gay marriage was still illegal there. we've already talked about italy's fascist prime minister. and i could go on and on and on about the war crimes of countries like the us or the uk - is the us not participating actively in genocide right now? where is the standard? if you argue against hosting the finals in saudi arabia for the reason of human rights, to me it seems you have to uphold that standard for the location you do land on. and i can guarantee, you will not find a single country in the world with clean hands.

i want to be clear i am not arguing that hosting the finals in saudi arabia is a good thing, especially for three years, especially because it's definitely going there because of money, and not for any of the "good" reasons i think some people want us to believe about "improving the region" (which is very weirdly white savior-esque anyway). i don't really have an official "conclusion" to this discussion.

what i am arguing is that i think a lot of the protests against saudi arabiahosting the finals are more an example of implicit anti-arab bias and islamophobia, rather than genuine discussion. key word implicit: i don't think most people are purposefully trying to be anti-arab/islamophobic. or at least, i'd like to believe nobody is. but i also think, particularly in the west, there is already so much of this xenophobic sentiment ingrained. and this is why i think it's really really REALLY important to check ourselves when we talk about it instead of just jumping straight to the human rights conversation without a second thought.

i'll say it plainly: i don't think the finals should be held in saudi arabia. but for me, it has more to do with sportswashing, with the dangers of the way money is thrown around in sports, and because i think it's more evidence that the wta doesn't care about player welfare but rather about making a profit (what else is new). human rights are absolutely a concern of mine, but how is it fair to hold saudi arabia to a standard that we don't seem to care about for literally anybody else?

literally look at the us's ugly ugly history, past and present, and tell me why we deserve to host a tennis tournament.

#long post #idk. this is not even all my thoughts #this is long and confusing and convoluted and i'm sorry #but i need y'all to understand it's not as easy as just saying 'oh we can't host it there'#'oh the players should boycott'#it's more complicated than that #and again i'm not really arguing one way or another #i do have my own opinion but i'm not positing that as The Right Choice #i'm definitely open to a lot more discussion on it #because i know i don't have the full perspective either #but i'm tired of seeing takes talking about how 'evil' it is to host the finals there #the way that it's happened and my suspected reasons for it (money)? yeah that's fucked up!#but just the fact that it will be hosted there...hold your horses. slow your roll #saudi arabia is like. a real country with people who actually live there and experience their own regime #god forbid they get to watch some tennis #and again. i just don't think you can ever really talk about these kinds of things and not bring up #the way countries like the us ALWAYS go unchecked #also like. gay marriage wasn't legal federally in the us until 2015. so. were do we go from here

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reasonsforhope · 8 months

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Let's get some good shit done: 9/26/23

In the name of encouraging each other, supporting each other, and reminding us all how many ways there are to help - how much each of us can make a difference -

Reply or comment (or add in the tags if you’d prefer) with something you did recently to help the environment, your community, or people who need it. Big or small.

Here’s my version. It's been an unusually good couple weeks I think!

Got certified in CPR and first aid (this was to apply for some jobs but I'm still really glad I did it in general)

Started to once again actually honor my damn commitment to wearing masks in stores and the like (slipped over the summer unfortunately)

Researched soil rehabilitation to teach stuff to my mom

Got my mom to start raking dead leaves onto all the (many, many) bare patches in our backyard. Other steps to follow. Soon the yard is gonna be so much healthier! (I hope!)

Relatedly, stopped my mom from accidentally killing all her herb plants by leaving them somewhere with insufficient sun (nobody ever tell my mom I post about this shit lmao)

About to start applying for some care work jobs (cross your fingers for me)

Called my representatives to tell them not to vote for KOSA, on privacy/human rights reasons

Got "smudging ceremony" instructions cut from a business book by a white and non-Indigenous author, now replaced with smoke cleansing. If I'm very lucky my explanatory lil essay will get the author to make the switch in their own business as well

Actually I think I removed smudging from two different books in the past month? (I'm a book editor for context) So that's always good

Removed some ableist language from those books while I was at it. This kind of thing doesn't always come up, but it's always really nice when I get to actually help fix this stuff

Honestly, one of the things that makes me really heartened and feel hopeful about the future is the way I've seen things shift re: sensitivity edits. When I started working in publishing (less than 10 years ago!), I had to carefully count and ration all of my sensitivity comments/notes to make sure they were taken seriously and that none of my bosses or coworkers got pissed at me

Now, I literally advertise sensitivity edits as one of my specialties up front, I regularly get actively thanked and praised specifically for those notes, and I don't have to hold back at all (tho I do ofc still write them very politely)

We still have a ways to go, but there really has been so much of a change in attitudes on this front, writ large

Anyway, essay over - tell me about the cool things you all did!

#me #not news #let's get some good shit done #hope #hope posting #direct action #community #editing #gardening

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cheesybadgers · 2 months

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Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 24)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 3,440

Summary: It's been 15 years since Horacio and Javier brought down Gacha in Tolú, and now they're back where their story began.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Brief allusions to period-typical prejudices/politics/legislation, very brief sexual references, smoking, swearing, all the fluff.

Notes: Well....I feel like I should post this with a fanfare or something (just imagine there's one playing), but oh boy, oh man, oh god. I did it. I flipping did it 😭 It's only taken 36 months, copious amounts of blood, sweat and tears, a deranged amount of research, the last shred of my sanity, and probably a fair amount of back/neck pain from sitting at my laptop for too long to get here. But hey, if I don't write a self-indulgent novel-length fix-it fic for a criminally underrated rarepair from a defunct TV show, WHO WILL, I ASK THEE? 😂

I can't fully explain the journey this fic has taken me and my writing on, or the deep love I have in my heart for this ship and the OHDH universe that has lived constantly in my head these last few years. Even when I'm not actively writing, so many things remind me of these two everywhere I go. They got me through the darkest days of the pandemic and somehow became my comfort ship, despite er, certain canon events we don't talk about in this house.

Anyway, I think you've all heard quite enough from me for the time being. So, I will just say thank you so, so, so much to anyone who has read, commented, kudosed, reblogged, liked, sent me messages, made me things, suggested music recs, generally been incredibly supportive and kind ❤️

And thank you to anyone who may stumble across this fic in future. Please never be afraid to leave a comment, even if you're reading several years down the line, I will always love to hear from people about this story.

There will also be some moodboards and playlists posted on my Tumblr at some point (and *maybe* some new - much shorter lol - fics eventually) once I've caught my breath back a bit.

For the final time (unless I randomly think of anything I've forgotten, which is more than likely lol), I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.

Chapter 24: Suerte (Epilogue)

Early evening rays painted the pastel horizon, their last act of the day transforming the shimmering ocean into an inky palate of fuchsia, violet and saffron, the golden sands at the shore still warm to the touch hours past dusk.

Come the weekend, Colombians would travel far and wide to descend on the many beaches, bars and restaurants that dotted the waterfront. Or if they were feeling adventurous, they would birdwatch, dive off the Islas de San Bernardo, or canoe amongst the mangroves.

But it was mid-week and mid-December – when most locals were at work and school or preparing for Christmas. So, for now, Horacio and Javier had the place to themselves.

There was the added bonus of the coastline turning into a dense forest of palm trees just along from their beach house, civilisation a mile or so away on either side of them, so even at peak times, they remained secluded. It had become a daily ritual to luxuriate in the peace and quiet; a pre-dinner swim with no trunks required followed by entwined limbs and sand in their hair as the sun went down.

Today was no exception, the gentle lapping of the waves around them and their shallow breaths the only sounds to be heard, the taste of salt and scent of sun lotion heavy in the air and on their skin as Horacio rocked into Javier, slow and deep, their chests and foreheads drawn together.

It was almost dark when Javier switched on the shower taps, cascading soothing jets over his head, neck and shoulders. As he soaked his hair, the lights from inside the beach house sprung to life, illuminating the outdoor bathroom with an ambient glow. It was a feature of the premium accommodation they had splashed out on, a rare treat away for a special occasion.

The outside space was a mix of wood, tiles and natural stone for the walls and floors, encased by tall plants and trees for extra privacy. A double shower stood on a platform at the end of a walkway, with a large hot tub branching off in the other direction. On their first night here, they had opted for the tub, surrounding it with candles as a belated ode to Día de las Velitas, lost in each other beneath the bubbles and the stars.

A sturdy embrace enveloped Javier from behind, a position they had found themselves in every morning by the shore before breakfast, looking out to a tranquil sea and a kaleidoscopic sky. The day jobs kept them both on their feet and in good shape, although there was more softness around their stomachs, and Javier was stockier than in his younger years. But his upper body was even broader with muscle now.

He was no gym fiend, but he had accompanied Horacio in some of his strengthening training, wanting to keep his stamina up as much as possible. Not just for the obvious but because he was sometimes required to carry the heavier supplies at work and didn’t want to be shown up in front of his largely youthful team.

It was a welcome development to Horacio, whatever the reason. Not that he ever had any complaints before, but watching Javier blossom as he aged was a wonder to behold. Not to mention, there was more of him to enjoy now.

As for Horacio, aside from the sloping curve of his midriff, he was sheer jaguar strength. Not only in the noticeable places, but his core muscles were in peak condition, the daily horse riding improving his posture and taking him back to the drill commands of his cadet years. His skin was more weathered, and his days of being meticulously cleanly shaven at all times were long gone. But Javier assured him – a lot – the ruggedness was part of the appeal.

Javier wasn’t one to talk either, stubble being a more regular feature alongside his moustache nowadays. But that was mainly due to lack of time in his busy schedule rather than preference, so it wasn’t unheard of for Horacio to do the honours for him. For some reason, Horacio delicately scraping a razor blade across his jaw from the comfort of his lap was far more appealing to Javier than doing it himself in front of the bathroom mirror.

Their hair contained more grey patches, especially around the temples, which was easier to hide when they grew it longer. That wasn’t practical during the sweltering heat of a Texan summer, so they kept it shorter in the hotter months. But in the winter, they could run their fingers through choppy waves and coils of curls to their hearts’ content. And luckily for them, their anniversary fell in December.

“Can you believe it’s been 15 years to the day?” Horacio asked, scattering kisses across Javier’s back.

“This doesn’t even feel like the same fucking place, to be honest.”

“Tell me about it.”

Horacio let out a huff as flashbacks of leading his men on a fleet of raiding crafts towards Gacha’s hideout collided with memories from merely days ago of him and Javier island hopping in a hire boat along the same waters. They had taken a platter of fresh seafood and fruit, exploring the remotest beaches and lagoons, where their only company was the local wildlife.

He could still remember the sensation of the blood at his temple as he lay disorientated on the sand in the aftermath of the explosion, a stark contrast to dozing together under the shade of a palm tree or reading aloud to each other the words of Lorca, Gaitán Durán, Arbeláez, Neruda, Paz, Castellanos and Mistral.

“Although, I did notice signs for the barracks towards Coveñas when we were driving here,” Horacio added with a nostalgic smirk.

“Oh yeah? You didn’t want another night there for old times’ sake?” Javier tilted his head until he found Horacio’s lips with his teeth.

Horacio hummed and put up no resistance, his wet hands sailing with ease down Javier’s body, finding purchase at his hip bones. “It was tempting. But I figured you’d want to make the most of this before Christmas.”

“Damn right.”

They took turns massaging shampoo into each other’s scalps, lathering the suds through thick spirals, tenderly pulling at strands until they purred, thoroughly indulging in the sensation whilst they had the chance. And then they did it all again, rinsing off the soap, floating away on the meditative pressure of the faucet and their fingers.

“We could always see if Alejandra has more spa freebies if it gets too much, though,” Javier suggested through the haze of steam now cocooning them.

“I like your thinking.”

It had been a while since they last used such tickets, their previous visits not dissimilar to how their current vacation was playing out. But despite the chaos that would no doubt ensue, they were looking forward to catching up with Horacio’s side of the family. Between expanding businesses in Texas and Manizales and the oldest half of the brood living and working elsewhere now with the twins staying at home studying, they didn’t get to meet up as much as they would have liked.

However, Elena visited Laredo several times, swapping life stories and recipes with Chucho and joining Horacio and Javier in San Antonio one spring for the Fiesta. Her last holiday outside of Colombia had been before Alejandra and Horacio were born, so she was determined to take advantage of having family abroad before age finally caught up with her. There had even been discussions of a trip to Madrid if Horacio and Javier could arrange cover at work the following year.

“Pops is flying out on the 20th, right?”

“Yes. Marco and Raúl are covering the ranch and animals until your father’s back on the 28th. And Jorge is covering the farm until we’re home from Miami in the New Year.”

No one was keen to leave Luna, Sol and Leo, who had long since retired from ranch duties, but between work and Christmas commitments, Connie taking a full-time job in a different hospital, now Olivia was a teenager going on 30, and the earlier-than-expected arrival of Felipe’s and Juana’s second child – Óscar, a little brother to Claudia – New Year was the only time everyone’s schedules matched up.

These days, Luna, whose main residence was the cottage now, Sol and Leo spent most of their time nestled on furniture or looking for treats in the kitchen whenever food was prepared. However, Luna would sometimes still ride in the back of Horacio’s truck and keep him company in the lower fields.

Kira and Fuego had become old pros, showing their younger siblings, Cielo and Tierra, the ropes, not as replacements to the trio but as a new team with their own quirks and personalities. Thankfully, the dogs and Coco had taken well to the pair of barn cats, Churro and Tamale, who patrolled the outbuildings and dealt with any rodent intruders.

Meanwhile, Chucho showed few signs of slowing down, except one summer when he twisted an ankle, and even that was hard work to get him to rest. But he had been happy to step back from some of his more physically demanding responsibilities in recent years, trusting that the ranch and farm were in capable hands. With their expansion plans a resounding success – plus some new ones up their sleeves – he had become more involved in the business side of the operation alongside Miguel.

And, of course, he was always happy to offer Horacio advice whenever needed. But for the most part, he left him to it since Félix’s retirement, preferring to arrange for the guesthouses to be refurbished or to deliver fresh batches of cooking to aid workers and exhausted arrivals alike on the frontline of the border.

“Bet Jorge was as thrilled about that arrangement as my team.”

“Well, we can always delegate to our deputies whenever necessary. One of the perks of being promoted.”

It had taken Horacio five years under Félix’s watchful eye – and decades of experience – to be granted the title of farm manager. Then, Félix had retired the previous year, satisfied he had picked the right man as his successor and Jorge as deputy.

Horacio still had plenty to learn and likely always would with the constant conveyor belt of change to farming methods and technology that landed on his desk each month. However, there was a sense of familiarity with certain parts of the job, like the meetings, the paperwork, and the budget constraints. Except, this time, it all came without the funerals, the upper echelons of the CNP breathing down his neck, and the crushing weight of a country’s future on his shoulders.

“And a holiday on the Caribbean coast was necessary, was it?” Now that Javier’s hair was free from sand and shampoo, he turned to face Horacio, their lips almost touching.

Horacio nodded sagely and closed the gap. “A critical business need.”

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

Once dried off, they lay in a hammock in matching white towel robes under the thatched porch of their beach house with a perfect view of the sea, moon and stars.

“So, you like it here?” Horacio asked after a comfortable silence.

“It’s beautiful. I’m glad we came back – to see it how it’s meant to be.”

“Me too. Although, I fear violence will always be a parasite latched onto Colombia. Just when you think it’s gone from one place, it rears its head again in another. Or even the same place twice if you’re unlucky.”

Horacio remembered the stories he had heard from Trujillo in the last couple of years – particularly about Operation Orion. Officially, the incursion on Comuna 13 had been a success by the Colombian military against the likes of FARC. Unofficially, however, there were rumours of a leaked CIA report, disappeared individuals, and collusion between an Army General and none other than Don Berna’s subordinate. It was hard to keep faith that Medellín would ever be free from its past when history had such a predictable habit of repeating itself.

“I know. It feels like one step forward and two steps back in the States, too. Terrorism might be the new bogeyman, but re-branding to ICE and throwing a shitload of money at the DHS hasn’t stopped the drugs and the people finding their way over the border.”

Javier had heard directly from Steve about the shift in his job role since 9/11. Overnight, Steve’s whole department was removed from their current caseloads and signed up for every counter-terrorism and narco-terrorism course under the sun. It was now customary for DEA agents to be redeployed to the FBI as intelligence analysts if resources required. And if their eyes and ears were pulled away from the drug traffickers, it didn’t take a genius to figure out the consequences.

Meanwhile, in Texas, if anything, people only took graver risks in the wake of a beefed-up Border Patrol. Javier had spent a lot of the past year helping to set up new aid teams in Arizona and New Mexico, the inhospitable conditions of the desert not enough of a deterrent to stop families trying their luck or handing over their life savings to coyotes who didn’t care whether they made it across alive.

“But small things can add up to change. Bit by bit,” Javier added. “And at least they can’t arrest us for fucking in our own home anymore.”

“True. Not that the law stopped us before...” Horacio nuzzled against Javier’s neck before making a move to get up.

They may have joked in the here and now, but it wasn’t a change they took for granted. In fact, Luz and Carla had even persuaded Javier to attend a protest or two and pay bond and legal fees for those who had been arrested. After all, he’d had plenty of experience exchanging money for people’s freedom.

When news of the Supreme Court decision spread, it was another weight off their backs and one less reason to look over their shoulders, a chance to permanently put to bed memories of being spied on during such unguarded sacred moments. It was the final line to be drawn under those dark years, not to erase them because that was impossible. But it was, at least, closure.

Their cigarette was almost done, and Horacio had left the opened pack on the kitchen counter. Once retrieved, he took out another and leaned into Javier across the hammock, pressing the tip of his unlit cigarette against the lit one until it sparked.

“But you’re right,” Horacio continued, holding Javier’s gaze between exhaling a plume of smoke. He balanced on the edge of the hammock, just enough to stop it tipping sideways. “Things can change. But only if we want them to.” He perched their new cigarette between his lips as he reached into the pocket of his robe.

Their first cigarette was little more than a stub, so Javier stooped down to the ashtray on the floor to extinguish it. Once he sat up again, a small cubed box was presented into his spare hand.

Javier stared at the black box and blew out remnants of smoke, eyeing Horacio with an unreadable expression, an unspoken question and answer lingering between them and the mist of tobacco.

He prised open the box to reveal a ring of plain silver. Or, so he thought at first glance. But as he raised it towards the moon, the iridescent light caught on the inner band to reveal an inscription.

Suerte que encontré a mi media naranja.

(Lucky that I found my soulmate.)

“Fuck, Horacio…” Javier’s voice was strained, and his words came out as little more than a whisper. He held the ring between his thumb and forefinger, letting the ethereal reflection from above capture each word.

Horacio watched every shift in Javier’s face with bated breath and a dry throat, his limbs lead and weightless all at once.

“The world’s changing around us,” Horacio said at last; swallowing his nerves and summoning his courage. “But no matter what the law or courts say in any state or country, this can mean whatever we want it to mean.”

Javier’s jaw worked back and forth, his teeth clamping down on the inside of his cheeks. But it was no use, and he let out a trembling scoff, an attempt to distract from the shining pupils he finally confronted Horacio with.

And then a broad smile crept across Javier’s features, his palm connecting with Horacio’s cheek before he plucked the cigarette from his fingers and took a drag. “Pass me my jeans.”

It took Horacio a moment to process Javier’s request. Of all the responses he had prepared for – the good and the bad – that hadn’t been on his list, funnily enough. With narrowed eyes and pursed lips, he complied and fetched the jeans that had been flung over a sun lounger when they stripped off to swim earlier. Apparently, regardless of how humid the climate in Tolú became, denim remained a reliable staple of Javier’s wardrobe.

“Check my left pocket.”

Whatever Javier was up to, Horacio was torn between intrigue and irritation at Javier’s temerity to issue orders despite leaving him hanging. But he did as he was told, and in an instant, everything made sense.

“I can always take it back if you’d prefer…”

But Horacio was already opening the near-identical box, and any teasing faded to white noise as he came face-to-face with the gold equivalent of his own proposal.

“Hold it up to the light.”

The night sky was brighter now, making it easier for the inscription to be revealed.

Mi amor, mi vida, mi hogar, mi vaquero. Siempre tuyo.

(My love, my life, my home, my cowboy. Yours always.)

It was Javier’s turn to observe, and it didn’t take long for Horacio to raise a brow in his direction, shooting him a look of feigned exasperation that only came with the territory of a relationship as enduring as theirs.

“What?” Javier said with disingenuous innocence and a vulpine smile.

It was a contagious kind of smile, one that reminded Horacio they were equals in this and that he shouldn’t have been surprised Javier had the same idea.

“I take it my mother showed you her ring?”

“On my first visit to Manizales. It was beautiful. And so’s this.”

“As is this.”

“I like to think I put my own spin on it.”

“You did.”

They sat side-by-side on the hammock, legs facing towards each other with the rings held in their outstretched hands.

Javier’s thumb slid across Horacio’s left palm, tracing patterns over new callouses born from hard labour rather than war. He circled his wrist, waiting for the familiar rhythm but finding a beat that was, unsurprisingly, drumming quicker than usual.

After subduing with his touch, Javier retrieved the gold band, gliding it carefully onto Horacio’s ring finger, easing it over the knuckle until it rested snugly at the base.

They sat transfixed, marvelling at the light dancing across it as Horacio’s thumb ran back and forth over the curved surface in fascination.

Horacio repeated the ritual of mapping Javier’s left hand, lacing their fingers together as a tangible reminder of their bond. Their devotion. Their vow. Their choice. Whether the law honoured it one day or not.

He picked up the silver to his gold, shimmying it along Javier’s ring finger and passing beyond the slight resistance at his knuckle. Not too much force, but firm enough for it to sink perfectly into place.

With palms connected and fingers interlocked, their foreheads met, chests rising and falling in tandem.

“Te amo tanto, Javier.”

“Yo también te amo. Tanto, Horacio. Tanto.” Javier whispered, over and over in Horacio’s ear like a prayer – their prayer – before brushing his lips above Horacio’s brow, the bridge of his nose, both cheeks and down to his mouth, creating their own sign of the cross with each kiss. A new beginning and a welcome home.

They untied their robes and collapsed onto the hammock in a tangle of limbs, silver and gold melding at their chests and hands; their past, present and future as inseparable as their hearts, bodies and souls.

With one smooth motion, Horacio pinned Javier’s arms down into the netting of the hammock, a dark, hungry gaze passing between them as cool metal fused with hot skin.

15 years and several lifetimes may have gone by. But when Horacio had the man he loved, the man who loved him, his media naranja, underneath him, only one word ran through his head. Mine.

Old habits die hard, he supposed.

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

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isa-ghost · 2 months

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Isa my darling! Happy Birthday, albeit a couple of days early.

Seeing you screech in Philza's streams because Apollo hit you with that dodgeball yet again makes me giggle a lot.

How about since headcanon's for qPhilza's past/pre island relationship with qFit. How they got to know each other, and how quickly they became friends?

Idr if I said this on Tumblr yet but deadass I asked Apollo on my pendulum if qPhil is his blorbo and he said yes. He's been as invested in shit as me and it's been hilarious. I literally have crows yelling at me irl to keep writing rn but I'm answering headcanons first.

The entire time I've been distracted between writing these, crows have been yelling at me about it. Which. Is how Apollo communicates with me when I'm not actively talking to him through readings LMFAO.

Also thank you for the birthday wish :D [desperately hoping nothing else horrible happens this weekend please god]

Anyway qPhil headcanons masterlist let's go

Disclaimer that I didn't know of Fit before QSMP (I've only been in mcyt for 4 years monkaS) so these are gonna be largely pulled out of my ass and a lil repetitive.

These two both have experiences in anarchy and war, they've definitely brushed shoulders a couple times bc of it

They admired each other's work ofc. Phil is a macro scale kinda guy, total annihilation and victory that makes a statement. Fit's more of a micro scale kinda guy, zeroing in on one person or group individually and making their lives hell until the end in the name of surviving a little longer

On that note, I think we all sleep a little bit on the fact that Fit is Also a survivalist like Phil, just in a very different set of high stakes conditions. These two are equally skilled in it and equally sharp strategists

On that note, anyone who knew them from the past would fear the idea of them coming together to create a plan of any kind, especially of the anarchist-fueled variety. If the Federation has done their research right, they should know full well how terrifying this duo could be in an effort to dismantle their authority

Btw by brushing shoulders I don't just mean brief passings by, I mean they've like. Camped out for a night together, temporarily truced for the sake of safety in numbers, etc. More than a few conversations have been had even if the time they've spent together totals to less than a week.

However, even when they weren't actively paired together, they'd still occasionally trade or gift each other surplus resources. It was a genuine kind act, even if it simultaneously served as a reason for each of them to not come after the other. I scratch your back, you scratch mine.

Like why do you think Fit was one of the first threats on Phil's mind in Purgatory. He Knew(tm). And he knew Fit has an affinity for picking off the weak first, like a lion after a herd of antelope. To him, Purgatory was the awakening of a monster who'd been dormant for a long time.

See, present day they're QPR as fuck, they'd never do this now without 10x the pressure Purgatory put on them, but back in the day they took close notes on each other's strengths and weaknesses. Just In Case, yknow? They could very much kill each other. Back in the day they would've if it came to it, no matter how good an ally they were.

Something about how these two used to be so cold and hard to the world. Be it to self-preserve or some other reason. Something about how now they've both softened and warmed after becoming parents. They never could've imagined the other would "weaken" like this, especially back then.

Phil 🤝🏻 Fit - Phil being a historian of the deities/builds of his Hardcore World, Fit being a historian of 2B2T

A lot of this boils down to mutual respect, common interests, and secret admiration tbh. And what's more homoerotic than that?

#qsmp #qsmp philza #qsmp fitmc #qsmp fit #qsmp fitza #qsmp veterans #qphil headcanons #AMFMN things #<- bc these apply to the fic

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mysterious-ocarina · 2 years

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy

Tate Langdon x Harmon!reader

Main Masterlist

(1.1k words)

You were the lesser known Harmon sibling. When your father cheated Violet took it harder than you did, or at least that's what your parents think. This is why they spent most of their focus on Violet because neither of them wanted her to be angry with them.

You were more angry with your father than your mother. You still didn't understand why or how she forgave her cheater husband but you were proud of her for how strong she was, especially after everything.

When you moved to California, you weren't very excited. A bigger house meant more space for everyone to forget about you. Now everyone still loved you, they weren't a bad family. You just received the least attention which didn't always bother you but when you met him, that's when it started to bother you.

When you got to the house, there was just something about it that didn't feel right. Then when you found out about it's history, your bad feelings not only felt true, but they amplified. You just had this gut feeling that the history of this house was alive, still active.

You met Tate on an ordinary afternoon. You were walking upstairs to your room with a bag of chips in hand. He was coming out of Violet's room when you bumped into him, causing you to drop your bag.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention," you looked up at him apologetically. You noticed that he was fairly attractive and looked about yours and Violet's age, "Who are you?"

"I'm Tate. . .a friend of Violet's. And you?" he asked you.

"I'm y/n, Violet's sister. She's a couple years younger than me," you told him. Something about him was making you nervous, but you couldn't identify if it was good nervousness, bad nervousness, or both that you were feeling.

"I didn't know she had a sister, a beautiful one at that," he quickly replied. This made you flush and look away from him.

"I get that a a lot. I'll see you later," you rushed out and fled to your room.

Since then whenever Tate would come by, he would hang out with you too. You would listen to music, play silly board games, and read books together. It didn't take you long to figure out that there were ghosts of past owners living here and that Tate was indeed a ghost.

You never mentioned to him that you knew. You just didn't think it was that important and didn't want to make it a big deal. You came to love the ghosts you encountered, anyways. You played dress up with the two little girls in the basement and bought some Nerf guns for the twins.

Lately it seemed that when Tate was here, that he spent more time with Violet than he did you. Sometimes not even seeing you at all. The only way you knew he was here was because you and Violet shared a wall so you could hear them giggling and having fun.

You were extremely jealous. You knew that you and Violet were pretty different. You also felt that everyone chose her over you and now you thought that Tate was choosing her over you. It didn't take long for you to gain feelings for the blond fluffy-haired boy, which is why you were feeling so jealous of Violet.

Tate was coming out of Violet's room, when you ambushed him. You felt bad for it, but you needed to talk to him, "Hello, Tate."

"Oh um, hey y/n. How are you?" he seemed nervous to talk to you, which kind of hurt.

"I'm doing fine, but you wouldn't know that 'cause you haven't talk to me in weeks," you crossed your arms at him. you weren't going to back down. He needed to understand how he hurt you.

"I'm sorry y/n, I've just been busy," he rushed out. It was obvious that he was hiding something from you.

"Yeah, busy hanging out with my sister. Look, I understand that you met her before me, but I really thought that we were. . .best friends," you hesitated at that because he was more than a best friend to you. You couldn't tell him that obviously.

"I have to go," he said before running off. That's all he said. You knew that he wasn't the best with dealing with emotions but you didn't think he was going to run away from you.

You stormed off to your room and went straight to bed. You were crying because you thought that for sure you lost him. He wanted Violet more than you. Eventually you fell asleep, tears staining your pillow case.

You didn't know how long you were asleep. You were awoken by soft music filling your room. It was your favorite mixtape. You also noticed that a couple candles were lit. The last thing you noticed was Tate, sitting at the edge of the bed staring at you. You sat up quickly, "What are you doing here, Tate?"

"I came to say sorry, and hopefully make you feel better. I shouldn't have run away from you earlier, I just didn't know what to tell you. I didn't mean to hurt you, I would never want to hurt you," he rambled on. He seemed even more nervous than earlier and you didn't know what to make of it.

"What's up, Tate? You can be honest with me," you told him.

"Well, the truth is that a few weeks ago I realized that I have feelings for you. I didn't really know what to do about it so I just started to avoid you. I hung out with Violet as a distraction. Violet's pretty smart 'cause she realized why I was avoiding you. She even tried to convince to act on these feelings but I've never done this before so I don't know what to do," he talked really fast. If you didn't have all of your attention on him, you would have missed something.

"Tate, you have feelings for me?" you asked him. You couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"Not only that, I think I'm in love with you," he whispered.

You didn't know what to say so you just grabbed his face and brought it close to yours, "I think I love you too, Tate."

He moved forward the last few inches and kissed you. This was the best kiss you've ever had. He was gentle with you but also passionate, like he has been waiting for this forever.

He pushed you back to laying down, climbing in bed with you, "Does this mean that you forgive me?"

"Of course, I could never stay mad at you," you turned facing towards him. You were holding each other close by now.

You spent the rest of the night cuddled up together just talking and enjoying each other's presence. You had no reason to be jealous because all of his attention was on you.

#tate langdon #american horror story #tate ahs #ahs murder house #ahs fandom #murder house #even peters #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon imagine #female reader #fanfiction

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