#I don't think I will be writing today as I don't feel like writing a character going through a dissociative/depersonalization episode
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oneforthemunny · 3 days ago
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hold my heart and watch it burn |ex-husband!eddie munson x ex-wife!reader|
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prompt: your first christmas apart and it's proving to be a lot harder and lonelier than you thought.
contains: i mean, you know i'm gonna write christmas angst lmao. so angst. divorce. ex-husband!eddie. dad!eddie. mentions of loneliness. of fighting. language. holiday blues. divorce blues. just sad but a little better at the end? maybe? kinda?
"Jude!" Your voice drops, breathy with a stern hiss that your eight year old ignored, running ahead through the crowds of people bustling through the ridiculously busy Starcourt Mall.
Lucy's small hand in yours, you pulled her through the crowds of people, dodging a woman and her twenty shopping bags that swung when she turned, nearly taking you out.
"Jude Wayne, stop." A rare tone of your voice came out, void of it's usual lightness that you always used with the kids- a tone that you usually reserved for their father.
"Woah," Your shoulders tensed, fighting back a grimace at the squeal Lucy let out, wringing her hand out of your grip. Speak of the devil, you thought, lips pursing to hold back the snarl you wanted to give. You wouldn't, not in front of the kids, no- you'd keep it civil for them, even though you wanted to smack the smug, dimpled grin that greeted you when you did finally look at him.
"Hi, sweetheart." Eddie hummed, eyes rolling over your figure, hoisting Lucy on his hip.
Your lips twisted, fighting back an eye roll. "Hi," You snapped curtly, turning to Jude, bending at your knees to get to his level. "Jude, you can't run through the mall, honey. You have to stay with me-"
"-Ah, he was just excited, baby." Eddie grinned, nodding at the young boy, who looked so much like him. "Weren't you, Jude?"
"Yeah, Mama." Jude nodded, lips curling in a positively sweetly devious grin- just like his Daddy's. You could feel your heart melting already. "I just want to see Santa. I hafta tell him the things on my list or he'll-"
"-You will, Jude." You sighed, the start of a headache pulsating dully at the base of your skull. "We'll walk to the line right now, and you both can tell Santa what you want, ok?"
Jude nodded, still walking ahead in quick, excited steps. Your eyes cut to Eddie, looking past him towards Lucy. "Surprised you showed up on time." Your tone clipped, quiet enough that the kids couldn't hear but that he did.
Eddie scoffed, a snort of air. "Showed up on time to see my kids? That's not very nice." Eddie's tone stayed light though his eyes narrowed when they looked at you.
"The truth isn't always nice, is it?" You quipped, turning forward to look at Jude.
"You act like I don't come to every thing they do." Eddie retaliated, a low hiss in his tone that left your jaw clenching with a familiar bubbling rage. "Really trying to make me into the deadbeat dad, hm?"
"I can't make you into anything." You scoffed. "But if the shoe fits-"
"-You're really doin' this?" Eddie's voice dropped, jaw ground tight with irritation. "Really? Today you're gonna start this?"
"I'm not starting anything." You snapped, a little louder than you meant to, eyeing Jude and Lucy carefully. "You're the one who's usually late to things. It's a fact."
Eddie scoffed, a light airy laugh leaving his lips that made your blood boil, nails digging into your balled fists. "Please. You think I don't know what this is about?"
"What?" You snapped, brows furrowed at him.
"Oh, c'mon, you're pissed about Trina." Eddie turned, looking at you fully.
You knew he had to see the way your heart dropped, sinking into a burning pit in your belly, filled with ache.
Trina was a bartender at The Hideout, she'd been one since you and Eddie had started going, and one you'd always felt a little wary of. The way she'd giggle and bat her eyes at Eddie- she'd been a catalyst to a few fights when you were still together.
Last Saturday morning, Eddie was late coming to the house to get the kids.
"Rough night?" You giggled, his hair wild, eyes puffy with lack of sleep- a look you'd seen too many times before, one that was always a sign he was hungover.
"Yeah, sorry, I forgot to set my alarm last night. I went out, and got a little... ya know," Eddie had muttered, running a hand down his face. "Had to shower because I smelt like smoke and didn't want Lucy's allergies actin' up, and I had to take Trina to her apartment, then I had to get gas, and-"
"-Trina?" You'd nearly spat. "From-From The Hideout, Trina?"
"Yeah, we, uh, we kinda went out last night." Eddie wouldn't meet your eyes, looking anywhere but at you. "I mean, you've been goin' on dates, and... ya know." He lifted his hand, nervously running his fingers through his bangs, a habit he'd always had.
You noticed the gold band missing from his left hand for the first time since your wedding, stomach dropping as he walked in, greeted by your children's excited squeals.
You were sick in the bathroom after that.
Now, your stomach still flipped, still burned with a familiar nauseating ache. Standing in line, trying to feign excitement listening to Jude and Lucy babble on and on about what they wanted Santa to bring them, trying to ignore the spiraling thoughts that consumed your mind.
The same thoughts that kept you up at night, tear stained cheeks pressed into the pillow next to yours, that still smelled like Eddie- the one he'd slept on three nights before his date with Trina. Did he know he was going out with her when he laid there next to you? Was he thinking of her when he had slid into you that same night? When he kissed you so fiercely, so full of love that it left you dizzy, did he wish it was her instead?
A piercing wail of a infant cut through your thoughts, taking another zombie like step towards the front of the line. Jude was bouncing, eyes so wide an intense, honed in on the older man in a red suit juggling the screaming baby to a photo.
"What're you gonna ask for Luce?" Eddie hummed, bouncing the four year old on his hip with a grin.
"Play Doh," Lucy gave a toothy smile. "The ones where you can make the rings." She shoved her chubby finger towards Eddie with emphasis.
"Oh, you gonna make some rings for Daddy?" Eddie grinned, glowing from the inside out- damn him, he was a good dad. Your heart fluttered when he wiggled his own fingers at her playfully, rings shining dully under the white Christmas lights of the mall. "I've been needin' some new ones."
Lucy laughed, silly infectious giggles that had your lips tugging in a grin, your hand smoothing over the wool of Jude's jacket. "You ready Luce? You're next." You cooed, stepping up to the bright candy caned line.
A bored teenage 'elf' looked at you with a less than jolly expression, waving them over as the kids ahead went bounding towards the mall Santa.
"Stay with Jude. Hold her hand, Jude. We'll be right over here." Your voice tightened, not moving until her hand was in his, scampering towards the next marker. "Smile pretty!"
"C'mon," Eddie muttered, his hand softly on the small of your back. "They're good."
You glared at him, huffing and pulling away from his grasp. "Don't talk to me like that."
Eddie sighed, tired and bored. "Like what?"
"Like that," You sneered, voice low as you stood behind the gate with the other parents, watching their kids as they told Santa their lists. "You don't have to be so condescending."
"Condescending." Eddie rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, just like that." You snarled, turning away from him, lips in a tight, annoyed line. "Like you always are."
Eddie nodded, slowly, tongue running on the inside of his cheek. There was a tense pause, both of you looking forward wordlessly.
"Look, I don't know what pissed you off so bad, if it's the Trina thing or-"
"-Can you not do this?" You bit in a hushed hiss. "Watch your kids. Don't make this about us." Your chin jerked towards Jude and Lucy, who were too enthralled with climbing on the fake sleigh to look back at two of you, which you were thankful for.
Eddie laughed humorlessly, an airy, unamused snort of air and you could feel him stiffening beside you. "Fine."
The eye roll you gave was so fierce it left you with a headache between the brows, fingers tapping on your crossed arms, trying to ignore him- to be present for your kids, enjoy and embrace the moment, but dammit was it hard. When he always had to have the last fucking word. Flashbacks of countless fights spun through your mind like a rolodex.
You managed enough cheer to mask the tension, greeting Jude and Lucy with their waving candy canes. "Did you tell Santa what you wanted?" You cooed, a hand running over Lucy's head.
"Yeah," Jude hugged your waist. "I told him I'd been really good, but will you tell him too, Mama? When you talk to him later."
You smiled, warm with content at his childlike innocence. "Of course." You nodded. "Let me pay for your photo and you can take it to Papa Wayne-"
"-I got it." Eddie muttered, still not looking at you, already flicking through the bills of his wallet, handing them to the cashier dressed like a elf.
"Let me pay you my half." You frowned, slinging your purse forward, pulling the zipper.
Eddie shook his head with an eye roll, nodding at the cashier, before stepping to the side. He sifted through the change in his palm, plucking out two quarters and handing them to Lucy and Jude. "Here, go get something out of the gumball machine."
Lucy and Jude squealed with excitement, bounding towards the array of candy and toy machines in the middle of the mall, ignoring your shout of warning.
"They already have a candy cane." You looked at Eddie with a bored expression. "So you're giving them more sugar?"
"Jesus Christ, it's the holidays." Eddie huffed. "Thought this was your favorite holiday?"
"It is." You countered, arms crossing over your frame defensively.
"Then quit bein' so mean." Eddie shook his head. "Just 'cause you're pissed at me."
"I'm not pissed at you." Your lips pressed in a hard line. "Not everything is about you."
Eddie let out a laugh, teetering on mocking and mean. "I- you know what, I give up." He shook his head. "Stay in your foul mood, whatever."
His hand fell on the white envelope on the counter, pulling the small photo out, handing it to you. "Here. Merry Christmas." His words fell flat, filled with irritation. "I'll have them back by eight tonight."
You fought back a snarl, looking at the grinning face of your children on the glossy photo, two identical smiles that reminded you so much of the man you loved- used to love.
"C'mon, let's go see Papa." Eddie clapped, grinning at the kids. "Tell Mama bye." His eyes met your with a forced grin, teeth nearly baring at you.
You swallowed the growing lump in your throat, bending to hug each of them, pressing a kiss to their cheeks. "Be good, ok? Tell Papa I said hi."
Your eyes met Eddie's, a beat of silence between both of you, nearly challenging the other to speak first, to admit defeat. Neither of you did.
Eddie gave a curt nod, turning in the opposite direction with your children through the ever growing crowd.
You felt incredibly lonely, walking to your car silently, a sinking feeling in the pit of your tummy.
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"Fuck-" Your fingers brushing the tip of the box, pushing it further back onto the shelf, away from your grasp.
Your annoyed huff echoed off the concrete of the garage walls, settling back on your tip toes. "Are you fuckin' serious? Ed-" Your words were strangled in your throat, heart dropping with sudden realization.
He wasn't here.
You should've been used to it by now. The house was empty, quiet even with the stereo playing. You'd turned it on, shoved a worn Christmas cassette tape in and tried to drown out the miserable silence that filled the house.
It used to be a tradition, just for the two of you. You and Eddie would drop the kids off at Wayne's going back home to wrap all the gifts you'd hidden. Eddie was always in charge of that, hiding them in the hard to reach, clever places around the house. You'd make hot toddies on the stove, Eddie would put on your favorite Christmas cassette without asking, and you'd spend the evening wrapping gifts.
Your first Christmas, Eddie had been so excited, positively beaming as you wrapped little onesies and teething toys- small gifts for Jude, but Eddie still boasted with pride. "Can you believe we're really doin' this? We're parents. Real parents wrapping real gifts for our real kid. Isn't- That's just fuckin' insane."
Now, you were alone, wrapping gifts for your kids and filling out the gift tag just to them for the first time in years.
The feeling was anything but joyful, sitting on your couch alone while Rudolph played lowly in the background. The hot toddy you'd made didn't nearly lift your spirits the way you hoped. No, if anything, it only made you feel worse.
Maybe it had been a mistake- the divorce. The thought had consumed you since you'd heard about Trina. Maybe Eddie was right, maybe the divorce was too much. Maybe you should have gone to therapy instead. Why else would you be feeling like this? Alone and miserable and full of regret. Were you just jealous? Was it the longer, darker days and colder weather messing with your mind? Or was it really that you-
"Hellooooooo!" Jude's sing-songy scream had you jumping, the hot liquid sloshing over the edge of the mug, splashing on to your reindeer printed pajamas.
"In here." Your voice was tight, not passing for the cheery tone you were hoping.
Two sets of feet bounded towards you as you set down your mug. Jude and Lucy came in, babbling with excitement about their day with Papa Wayne, still in their snow boots and coats.
"Mama, we saw Papa today an-and he asked me if I could make him some extra reindeer food so he can have some for his roof too, so Santa doesn't miss him." Jude jumped in your lap, eyes bright and wild as he told his story with excitement.
"Did he?" You grinned, unzipping Jude's jacket gently. "We'll have to make him some, won't we?"
"Yeah." Jude nodded, looking over at the tree. "Are those for us?" His eyes widened.
"Not until Christmas." You pointed at him. "Or I'll take them all back."
Jude pouted, eyes darting towards the screen. Your eyes cut towards Eddie as he helped Lucy out of her little snow boots, shimmying them off carefully and putting them by the door. The ache in your chest only grew.
You stood, crossing the living room towards the entry way. "Hey, Luce," You cooed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head when she flung herself at you. "Did you have fun today with Papa?"
"Yeah," Lucy giggled, hanging off your leg. "We gotta see the lights."
"The neighbors," Eddie muttered, his gaze not meeting yours, looking at Lucy instead. "They have a bunch of light displays now. Decked out the whole trailer. She really liked it."
"That sounds like fun." You smoothed a hand over her head. "Why don't you go see what Jude's watching? Let me talk to Daddy for a minute. Ok?" You tracked her as she bounded towards the living room, plopping next to Jude on the couch.
An uncomfortable silence filled the space between you and Eddie before you even turned around.
"So, um," You swallowed, rocking back and forth on your slippered toes. "Sounds like they had a good time." You lifted your head, looking up at Eddie.
"Yeah, they had fun." Eddie shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, eyes flickering from you to the frilly garland over the door. That same dreaded pause came back, filling the space between you.
"I'll head out," Eddie broke the silence, your heart lurching at his words. "I'll, uh, be back tomorrow morning, if that's cool? Stop by and-"
"-Wait," Your tone was fiercer than you meant it to be, Eddie's eyes told you that. "I-I just-" You turned towards the kitchen, heart hammering with a steady thud in your ears.
"I, uh, I made hot toddies." You swallowed your hammering heart. "Why don't you- I mean, if you want one, yo-you could stay for a while. Put the kids to bed, ya know, if you don't have plans or whatever." You muttered, cringing at how juvenile you sounded. You sounded like you were back in high school, stammering the same way you had when Eddie first asked you out.
Eddie's lip curled in a small smile, running a hand over his face. "Sure." He shrugged, shedding off his worn leather jacket. "Thank you."
You shook your head gently, turning towards the kitchen, ears ringing with the dull beating of your heart, barely registering the squeals of laughter from Jude and Lucy in the other room. You ladled the steaming contents into a festive mug nearly robotically, brain numb with the same swirling thoughts that made you feel like you were underwater- washing away in the strong current of your own mind.
Your slippers felt like weights, dragging your body across the hardwood floor towards the living room, passing Eddie the steaming cup. His hand brushed yours, sending your system flooded with electric excitement.
As you settled back into the cushions, your body relaxed- just for a moment. The kids were squealing, babbling and giggling about their afternoon with Papa. Rudolph still playing lowly in the background. Eddie next to you, sipping out of his mug. For a moment, the lights strung on the tree felt brighter, warmer.
For a moment, it felt like home again.
That sickening realization had your stomach lurching, pulling you back into the cruel reality that none of this was permanent. Eddie, the lights, the happiness- it was all temporary. It would be gone tomorrow.
You wished it wouldn't.
Your mind at war with itself, filled with conflict and regret as you tried to mask it, giving fake grins and exaggerated coos that half heartedly passed for truthful.
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"They're finally asleep." Eddie's voice had you jumping, the mug slipping through your hands into the sudsy water.
You turned, chin hooking over your shoulder to face him. "You were probably right. All that candy wasn't the best idea." Eddie gave a tight grin, his eyes sparkling dully, just enough to have your heart skipping. "They got even more at Wayne's too."
"I told you," You sighed softly, a playful hum in your tone. Still, it wasn't convincing enough, not for Eddie.
Eddie frowned behind you. "What's goin' on with you?" He didn't miss the way your spine went rigid.
"What?" You voice pitched, high like it was when you were lying- when you were hiding something. That hadn't changed since high school.
"Don't- c'mon." Eddie gave a soft huff, accompanied by an eye roll. "Just tell me what's goin' on."
"Nothing's goin' on-"
"-Don't lie to me." Eddie scoffed, shaking his head. "I've known you too long. You think you can lie to me and I won't know? Please."
Your lips tugged in a smile you tried to hide, turning back towards the dishes you were finishing up. Eddie moved beside you, hip leaning on the counter next to you.
"What's on your mind, baby?" His voice was so gentle- you hated that it was exactly what you needed, that he knew it was exactly what you needed.
You swallowed the ever growing lump in your throat, fighting the swell of tears that was already forming.
"Hey, c'mon, sweetheart," Eddie's hand pressed to your cheek, cupping it sweetly, his rings pressed to your skin. "Talk t'me, baby. What's goin' on?"
"Nothing." Your voice was as strained as the words you struggled to get out.
"Baby," Eddie eyed you playfully. "I know we're not together anymore, but I still know you and you can- what's wrong?" He froze, his hold going rigid at the first shake- a tremble of emotion that was a telltale sign you were about to break.
"Did I say something? I was just- hey, don't cry. Don't cry." Eddie cooed, gathering your face in his hands, pulling you towards him.
Your lip trembled, biting back a sob that tore its way through anyways, vision flooding with tears that built on your waterline.
"Is this- Is this about Trina? Because I didn't- Nothing happened, we just went out. Well, I mean, she kissed me, but I didn't- I really didn't-" Eddie's voice rose in panic, rambling, frantic at the watery sob you let out.
"Please, hey, please don't cry? I'm not- fuck, baby, I didn't- I thought it would be ok, be-because you'd been on a few dates, and I thought it would be a good thing."
"It is." You blubbered, sniffling wetly, wiping your eyes with the back of your rolled pajama tops.
"Then why are you crying?" Eddie frowned lightly, pads of his thumbs wiping over the apples of your wet cheeks catching your tears.
"I just..." Your eyes pinched shut, jaw clenching to keep in another sob. How could you tell him? You couldn't. You knew you couldn't, even though you wanted to so badly.
"Just what?" Eddie's voice dropped. "Tell me."
He could feel your trembling breath, his own heart squeezing with constricting fear before you spoke.
"I just... I miss this." Your voice cracked, eyes squeezing shut. You couldn't look at him, couldn't bring yourself to see his reaction.
"I-I didn't know how much I would miss just... just us all being together, and I really fuckin' miss it, and I think," Your breath hitched, heart stilling entirely with hesitant fear.
Eddie held his own breath, eyes wide, looking at you with a wild gaze like he knew what you were going to say.
"I think," You swallowed around your words, strangled in your throat. "I... I made a mistake."
Eddie's heart leapt so fiercely he thought it tore through his rib cage. His body eerily still, unable to move.
"I didn't know you going out with someone else w-would make me feel... this bad, and," Your eyes shone, the strung lights in the kitchen catching in your tears. "And I've really missed you."
"I've missed you too." Eddie's lungs constricted with those words, feeling breathless and light headed.
"I don't like spending the holidays without you." Your voice squeaked, teary and upset, face crumbling with the admission you'd been holding in for too long. "I don't- I don't like being without you, an-and I think I made a really bad mistake and I-I'm sorry, Eddie, I'm so-o sorry-"
Your teary face pressed to the soft material of his t-shirt, your cry muffled into his chest. Eddie held you close to him, as tight as he could, his own head spinning now.
He'd dreamt of this, longed for this moment since you'd fist served him the papers. The day had finally come, one he thought he'd only see in his head- you coming back to him, taking it back, taking him back.
Only it didn't feel as triumphant as it did in his head.
Not with you sobbing into his arms. Not with his head spinning so fiercely he thought he might still be dreaming.
"It's alright," Eddie soothed nearly robotically, staring ahead out the window towards the darkened street as he soothed your sobbing apologies. "We'll- We'll figure it out, baby. We'll be alright."
Every time you both felt like you found your footing, finally on stable ground, you were back here- falling with horror back into uncertainty.
Even as Eddie held you in the kitchen, or later when he slipped into bed with you, both of you whispering and sniffly under the sheets, it wasn't new but it wasn't the same as it was before.
You weren't sure if it would ever be the same as it was before, if you'd ever have what you had before. Even if you replicated the same traditions, hung the tinsel in the same place, retraced your footsteps exactly as you did the year before; it would never hold the same feeling as it once did.
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I mean... I have gone through phases of reading something like a hundred books a year for absolutely no reason other than I've been a compulsive reader forever? And that (plus undiagnosed ADHD ahahaa) does tend to make you read some things really really fast? Not everything, and it's not a bad thing as such.
I ran across both of these today and I just
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I mean there are a fair few different things going on here:
Big chunks of text aren't the easiest for anyone to read, and on a purely functional level they do tend to interrupt the flow of reading. If you read fast, you do tend to automatically skim longer paras, pick out the odd word and assess how relevant the whole section really is to pay attention to. It's a valid and recognised reading technique (literally how they reach speed reading) and if you do realise you've missed anything important, you can always go back and check (one reason I prefer reading to audiobooks).
That tiktoker is talking pretty specifically about a particular genre, and I don't think it's that controversial to say a fair amount of that genre can be considered skimmable if you're not reading it for the writing per se - romantasy particularly is mainly targeted at adults but a fair amount of it is then written at a YA level. It's deliberately predictable and not designed to be challenging to read (there is a whole other essay to be written about communicating information and which reading level you choose for that). Sometimes you just like the trope or the characters or a setting or something and that's all you want from a (very long) book. Skimming is a totally reasonable way to approach that.
If you have ADHD especially, then a lot of the time it feels like you're trying to outwit and outpace your attention span whenever you start a new book (literally the same reason I have to binge TV shows or I forget they exist between episodes). Sometimes the choice is between finishing the book really really fast before you lose interest, putting it down and completely forgetting what happened (or that it exists at all), or chucking it on the DNF pile where it will taunt you as yet another thing you failed at :)
Which is to say that sometimes skimming is the only technique that lets you finish a book, and finishing a book does your self-esteem a whole world of good if you frequently beat yourself up for being flakey.
I cannot stress enough that most books aren't inherently skimmable but that person is talking about specific books that are, for them. It's not about being disdainful about reading or books, it's about wanting to read and finding a method that works best for you.
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These people have to be stopped
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lostfracturess · 16 hours ago
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LAST DECEMBER MORNING — SATORU GOJO
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pairing — satoru gojo x sorcerer!reader
summary — on a frost-bitten december morning, you watch satoru gojo prepare for his fated battle with sukuna with infuriating calm, like he isn't planning to sacrifice himself for the greater good. you've spent years being his secret, clearing battlefields for him and stealing kisses between missions, but now you're faced with the most brutal truth. that sometimes the cruelest curse isn't the one that kills you — it's loving someone who belongs to the world before they belong to you.
word count — 5.4 k
warnings — heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, mentions of blood and violence, implied death, unhealthy relationship, sad ending
author's note — this has been rotting in my drafts since the final jjk chapter dropped, and i finally dragged it out into the light bc i'm procrastinating uni. fair warning, this is pure angst with zero comfort, just two people breaking each other's hearts because sometimes love isn't enough. anywayys, happy reading <3
masterlist
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Winter had never felt so much like an ending.
You watched frost creep across the windows of your shared apartment, each crystalline pattern forming like cracks in glass, spreading slowly but inevitably.
Outside, the world lay hushed under winter's blanket, everything soft and serene. Birds traced lazy patterns against a sky so blue it hurt to look at, and fresh snow made everything clean and new.
It was the kind of morning that belonged in fairy tales, the kind poets write about when they want to capture peace in words. Strange, how you'd never imagined death would choose such a beautiful day.
You watched Satoru move through his routine, each gesture precise and unhurried. White hair caught the pale sunlight as he smoothed it back, his reflection in the mirror handsome as ever before he adjusted his clothes, and put on his blindfold.
You'd watched him prepare for countless missions before, but this felt different. This felt final.
The normality of it all was almost cruel — how he could stand there, getting ready like this was just another day, just another fight. Like the sun wasn't rising on what could be your last morning together.
The clock on the wall ticked steadily forward, each second falling like a stone into still water. Time felt strange, both rushing too fast and moving too slow. You wanted to grab the clock's hands, force them to stop, to give you just a few more moments in this morning that felt like borrowed time.
"You're staring," he said without turning around, a slight smile playing at his lips.
"Can you blame me?" You were curled up in the window seat, tea growing cold in your hands. "It's not every day your— whatever we are goes to fight the King of Curses."
He turned then, and even through the blindfold, you could feel the weight of his gaze. "Whatever we are?" There was amusement in his tone. "After all this time, you still don't know what we are?"
"Well, we're not exactly big on labels," you pointed out, trying to keep your voice light despite the heaviness in your chest. "Secret relationship and all that."
"Ah, but that's what makes it fun, isn't it?" He crossed the room to where you sat, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. "The sneaking around, the secret meetings—"
"Satoru." You caught his hand. "How are you so calm about this?"
He tilted his head, considering. "Would you prefer if I was panicking?"
"I'd prefer if you showed any emotion at all about the fact that you're about to fight Sukuna." You stood up, setting your tea aside. "You've been acting like this is just another day, just another fight, but it's not. You know it's not."
"I think I've shown plenty of emotion," he said, pulling you closer with a playful smile. "Just last night, if I recall—"
"Don't." You pressed a hand against his chest, keeping him at arm's length. "Don't deflect. Not today."
The smile faded from his face, replaced by something more serious. "What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to tell me why you're so calm. I want you to tell me why you're not worried." Your voice cracked slightly, but you pushed on. "I want you to tell me why it feels like you're saying goodbye."
He was quiet for a long moment, his thumb tracing patterns on your wrist where he still held it. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer than before. "The world needs to move forward. It needs to find someone stronger."
"What are you talking about?" You pulled back slightly. "You're the strongest there is."
"Am I?" His smile was gentle, almost sad. "Or is that just what everyone needs to believe?"
"Satoru—"
"The world has relied on me for too long," he continued. "They've made me their symbol, their savior, their stupid hero. But what happens when I'm gone? Who protects them then?"
"You're not going anywhere," you said. "You're going to win. You always win."
He cupped your face in his hands, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. "Sometimes winning isn't about surviving. Sometimes it's about making sure what comes after is better than what came before."
"That's not funny."
"I'm not trying to be funny." He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours. "I'm trying to tell you that whatever happens today, the world will keep turning. It will find new leaders, new protectors. Maybe even better ones."
"I don't want new protectors," you whispered. "I want you."
"Ah, but you've always had me," he said softly. "Ever since that first mission together, when you told me my head was too big to fit through doorways. Do you remember?"
You huffed. "You were showing off, making everything more complicated than it needed to be."
"I was trying to impress you."
"You're always trying to impress me."
"But it's working, right?"
You pressed closer to him, breathing in his familiar scent. "You know it is, you idiot."
He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest. For a moment, you both stood there in silence, listening to each other's heartbeats. The familiar rhythm brought back memories of how this all began, of the first time you'd been close enough to hear his heart race.
For loving Satoru Gojo had always been the most beautiful and dangerous thing in your world.
It started in blood, as most things in your world did. A mission gone wrong, cursed spirits thick in the air, the metallic taste of death sharp on your tongue. You’d seen him fight before—who hadn’t?
But that night was different. That night, you saw him bleed.
A special-grade curse caught you both off guard. One moment, he fought three curses at once like some untouchable god, and the next, he was crashing through three buildings, blood gushing from his mouth.
Something in your chest cracked at the sight — not from the impact of being thrown back yourself, but from seeing him, the strongest sorcerer alive, look so terrifyingly human.
You remembered how his blindfold had been torn, those devastating blue eyes meeting yours across the wreckage. Blood trickled down his chin, his usually perfect hair matted with debris, and yet he smiled. That damn smile that made your heart stutter even as cursed spirits attacked you from all sides.
“Trying to steal my spotlight?” he’d joked, wiping blood from his lips as he stood. “I’m the only one allowed to look cool here.”
You wanted to strangle him. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to scream at him for making jokes when he could have died. You did none of those things. Instead, you cleared the area, giving him the perfect opening he needed to obliterate the special grade.
Later, after the dust had settled and the reports had been filed, he cornered you in the darkened hallway of Jujutsu High.
“You’re angry,” he said, not a question but a statement.
“I’m not angry.” You were furious. “I’m just wondering how someone who’s supposed to be the strongest can be so fucking reckless.”
He stepped closer, backing you against the wall. “Worried about me?”
“You wish.” But your voice shook, betraying you. Because you had been worried. Terrified, actually. The image of him lying in that wreckage, blood staining his white hair red, had burned itself into your mind.
“Liar,” he whispered, and then his lips were on yours.
Everything they said about Satoru Gojo was true — he was overwhelming, all-consuming, impossible to resist. Kissing him felt like being struck by lightning, like being unmade and remade in the space between heartbeats. You broke apart, both breathing hard, and reality came crashing back.
“Fuck,” you summarized eloquently.
He laughed, the sound low and rich. “That could be arranged.”
“Satoru.” You pressed a hand against his chest, feeling his heart race under your palm. “We can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re you. Because I’m me. Because there are a thousand reasons why this is a terrible idea.”
“I’m only hearing excuses.” He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. “Not actual reasons.”
And that was how it started — with blood and curses and kisses in dark hallways. With terrible ideas that felt too good to resist.
Keeping it secret was both easier and harder than you expected. Easier because everyone already knew how Satoru was — flirtatious, tactile, always pushing boundaries. No one questioned when he draped himself over your desk during meetings or appeared uninvited in your office and stayed for hours.
Harder because every moment felt like a lie of omission. Harder because you had to watch him walk into danger again and again, had to maintain professional distance when all you wanted was to grab him and never let go.
You stole moments where you could find them. Quick kisses in empty classrooms, heated encounters between missions, quiet nights in your apartment when the world thought he was somewhere else entirely.
It ate at you sometimes. Not because you wanted to announce it to the world, but because each moment felt borrowed, stolen from a future you might never have.
Every time he left for a mission, every time he faced another curse, you wondered if this would be it. If this would be the time your last memory of him would be a secret smile across a meeting room, a cryptic message that no one else understood. But then he’d come back, always with that insufferable smile, usually with some ridiculous story about how amazing he’d been.
He’d find ways to touch you in public that looked casual — a hand at the small of your back during briefings, fingers brushing as he passed you documents, his body angled toward yours in crowded rooms like a sunflower seeking light.
And the worst part? The absolute worst part was how good he was at pretending. How easily he maintained his public persona — the untouchable, unbeatable Satoru Gojo, who flirted with everyone and meant it with no one.
Sometimes you’d catch him looking at you in meetings with the same expression he gave everyone else, and for a moment, you’d wonder if you’d imagined everything between you.
But then night would fall, and he’d show up at your door with takeout and that soft smile he saved just for you. He’d kiss you like he was trying to apologize for every moment he had to pretend you were nothing special, like he was trying to prove that this, the two of you, was the only real thing in his world.
You never talked about the future. How could you? In your line of work, tomorrow was never guaranteed. Each mission could be your last, each kiss could be your goodbye. The closest you ever came to acknowledging it was in the desperate way he’d hold you after a close call, in the way you’d trace his features in the dark like you were trying to memorize them by touch.
Some nights, when sleep eluded you both, he’d tell you about the weight of being the strongest, about the exhaustion of being everyone’s last hope.
He’d whisper his fears into your skin — not of death or defeat, but of failing those who believed in him. Those were the moments when the great Satoru Gojo disappeared, leaving just Satoru, just a man who carried the world on his shoulders and made it look easy.
You lived for those moments. The quiet ones, the real ones, the ones where he wasn’t the strongest sorcerer alive but just yours. Just as you were his.
You carved out your own little infinity in the spaces between battles and duties. A secret world where his laugh wasn’t for show, where your touch wasn’t professional, where you could just be the two of you without the weight of expectations and reputations.
But infinity, as it turned out, had limits. Even his.
Looking at him now, preparing to face Sukuna with that same causality he brought to everything, you wondered if this was how your story was always meant to end. If all those stolen moments were just preparing you for this — one last morning, one last smile, one last chance to pretend tomorrow might come.
The world needed someone stronger, he said. But you needed him. And maybe that was the cruelest curse of all — loving someone the world needed more than you did.
"Promise me something," you said then.
"Hmm?"
"Promise me you won't just give up. Promise me you'll fight to come back."
He pulled back slightly, reaching up to remove his blindfold. His striking blue eyes met yours, intense and clear.
"I promise," he said, "that everything I do today will be for a better tomorrow."
"That's not what I asked."
"It's the only promise I can make."
"Stop." Your voice turned sharp, anger finally breaking through. "Stop talking about tomorrow. Stop talking about the future and the next generation and whatever noble sacrifice you think you need to make. I don't care about any of that."
"Don't you?"
"No, I don't." You grabbed his jacket, fingers twisting in the fabric. "I don't care if the world needs someone stronger. I don't care if the next generation needs to step up. I care about you, you impossible man. I want you here, alive, with me. Is that so wrong? Am I not allowed to be selfish when it comes to you?"
"Huh." He caught your hands in his, but didn't pull them away from his jacket. "And here I thought you understood me better than anyone."
"Don't." You tried to pull away, but he held firm. "Don't you dare try to make this about understanding. I understand perfectly. But you're wrong. You don't have to do this."
His smile faltered slightly. "It's not that simple."
"It is that simple!" Your voice cracked. "You're choosing to make it complicated. You're choosing to walk away, to... to what? Make some grand statement about the future? Prove that the world can survive without the great Satoru Gojo?"
"Someone has to."
"But why does it have to be you?" The words burst out of you, raw and desperate. "Why do you have to be the one to show them? Why can't you just fight to win, to live, to come back to—" You cut yourself off, biting back the words that wanted to follow.
"To you?" he finished softly.
"Yes," you said, dropping your forehead against his chest. "To me. Call me selfish, call me short-sighted, I don't care. I want more mornings like this. More everything. More of you, being insufferably calm and making terrible jokes and acting like the world isn't ending when we both know it might be."
He was quiet for a moment, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. When he spoke, his voice was gentler than before.
"I can't promise to come back." He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "But know this, every moment with you has been worth fighting for. Worth living for."
You pulled back enough to look at him, really look at him. "Then fight for more moments. Fight to make more memories. Fight to come back to me, not for some greater purpose or stupid sacrifice, but because you want to."
"And if I told you that wanting isn't enough?"
"Then I'd call you a liar." Your voice turned cold. "Because you're Satoru fucking Gojo. When has anything ever been impossible for you? When have you ever let anyone tell you what you can't do?"
​​"This is different—"
"How? How is this different? Because it's Sukuna? Because it's the fate of jujutsu society? Or because you've already decided how this story ends?"
His hands tightened on you, and for a moment, just a moment, you saw something flicker behind those blue eyes — doubt, fear, longing, you couldn't tell. But then it was gone, replaced by that same calm certainty that made you want to scream.
"Because I can't protect everyone—can't protect you if I allow myself to believe in a tomorrow," he whispered.
The gentleness in his voice, the soft way he delivered words meant to cut, made you want to tear the world apart. It was so perfectly Satoru — to break your heart like he was doing you a favor, to wound you with a tenderness that felt more cruel than any violence could be.
"I never asked you to protect me," you said finally. "I asked you to stay. There's a difference."
"Is there?" His hand came up to cup your face, shaking ever so slightly, betraying the calm he fought so hard to maintain. "Because every time I look at you, all I can think about is how many people would use you to get to me. How many would hurt you just to prove they could touch something I care about."
"So your solution is to what? Die nobly? Make sure there's nothing left for them to use against you?"
"My solution is to make sure the world doesn't need me anymore." His thumb brushed across your cheek, catching a tear you hadn't realized had fallen. "To make sure you don't need me anymore."
"That's not your choice to make. You don't get to decide what I need. You don't get to martyr yourself for some greater good and pretend it's for my protection."
"Then what would you have me do?" For the first time, there was a hint of frustration in his voice. "Ignore my responsibilities? Pretend I'm not who I am?"
"I would have you fight like you want to come back!" The words ripped from your throat. "Fight like there's someone waiting for you after. Fight like you love me as much as I love you!"
The confession rang out between you, and the moment it left your lips, you realized you'd never said it before. Through all the stolen moments, all the secret touches, all the nights you'd spent memorizing each other's bodies — you'd never actually spoken those words aloud.
You'd both danced around it, implied it in every action, every look, every unfinished sentence, but neither of you had ever dared to make it real with words.
Until now. Until you were angry enough, desperate enough, terrified enough to let it slip from your heart straight past your defenses.
"Love?" His voice was barely a whisper.
"Of course I love you, you idiot." Your voice equally quiet. "Why else would I be standing here, begging the strongest sorcerer alive to be selfish just once?”
He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, maybe a sob, his fingers tightening on you. "Don't," he whispered, and for the first time that morning, his voice was shaking. "Don't make this harder than it already is. Don't say things that make me want to—" He cut himself off, jaw clenching. "That make me want impossible things."
"Impossible? Since when does Satoru Gojo believe in impossible?"
"Since I realized loving you means putting you at risk." His thumb brushed your cheek, the gesture achingly gentle. "Since I understood that staying alive isn't the same as keeping you safe."
"I hate this." You shook your head. "I hate how calmly you can stand here and talk about sacrifice like it's inevitable. Like there's no other way."
"Would you prefer if I fell apart?" His smile turned sad. "If I raged and cried and promised things I might not be able to keep?"
"Yes," you admitted, your hands coming up to cover his where they still held your face. "Because at least then I'd know you want to stay as much as I want you to."
"Oh, my love." The endearment fell from his lips like a confession. "Wanting to stay has never been the question. The question is whether I can live with myself if I do."
"And what about whether I can live with myself if you don't?" Your voice broke. "What about whether I can forgive myself for not fighting harder to make you stay?"
"This isn't your fight."
"Like hell it isn't." You pulled back. "You think I spent months learning to clear battlefields just so you could take center stage? You think I perfected my technique to complement your infinity because I had nothing better to do?" You dug your nails into your palms, throat tight with fury. "I've been fighting alongside you since before you ever kissed me in that hallway. Before you ever decided I was worth protecting. Don't you dare tell me this isn't my fight when I've spent years making sure you had the space you needed to be great."
He was quiet for a long moment, studying you. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost reverent. "And that's exactly why I need to go. The world doesn't need more people making space for me. It needs people who'll fill that space themselves."
You recoiled like he'd slapped you, hurt burning in your chest. "Is that what you think I've been doing? Making myself smaller for you? Made space for you because I was afraid to reach higher?" You stepped closer, deadly calm now. "I made space for you because that's what you do when you love someone."
His lips twitched into a smile. "So you do understand me."
"Don't pretend those are the same thing."
He was quiet for a moment. Then, instead of answering, he pulled you into a kiss that tasted like goodbye. Like all the tomorrows you'd never have, all the moments you'd never share, all the promises neither of you could keep. You kissed him back with everything you had — all your fury and fear and love condensed into this one perfect, terrible moment.
His hands tangled in your hair like he was trying to memorize the feeling, yours gripping his jacket as if you could keep him here through sheer force of will. When you finally broke apart, hearts pounding, foreheads pressed together in the space between one heartbeat and the next.
"I'll hate you," you whispered against his lips. "If you don't come back, I'll hate you for the rest of my life."
He pulled back just enough to look at you, and for once, his smile held an edge of something raw, something that looked almost like pain. "No, you won't."
"I will." Your fingers tightened in his jacket. "I'll hate you for making me fall in love with someone who was always planning to leave. I'll hate you for every morning I wake up alone, for every mission briefing where someone else stands in your place, for every year I have to leave flowers on your grave."
"You'll move on. You'll find someone—"
"Fuck you," you cut him off, the words sharp enough to draw blood. "Don't you dare tell me how I'll feel. Don't you dare stand here and plan out my future without you in it."
"I'm just trying to—"
"To what? Prepare me? Make it easier? There's nothing easy about loving you, Satoru Gojo. There never has been. But I chose it anyway. Every day, knowing this moment would come."
"What do you want me to do? Do you want me to say goodbye? Make it messy and painful and real?"
"I want you to stop pretending this is just another mission and show me something that tells me this is killing you like it's killing me."
The silence stretched between you like a chasm. For just a moment, beneath his careful composure, you caught a glimpse of the man behind the name — vulnerable, conflicted, maybe even afraid. But he buried it quickly, like he buried everything that might make him waver from his chosen path.
You'd always known this about him, hadn't you? Known it from that first bloody mission, from every fight where he'd put himself between the world and destruction.
Satoru Gojo was a man built for sacrifice, shaped by duty and power into something that could never truly belong to just one person. You'd fallen in love with him anyway, foolishly hoping that maybe love could be enough to make him choose differently.
But watching him now, seeing the gentle finality in every movement, you understood with crushing clarity that this was always how it would end. No amount of pleading or anger or love could change what he'd already decided.
He'd made his choice long before this morning, probably before he'd ever kissed you in that darkened hallway.
"Keep the tea warm for me," he said finally, stepping back. The words were casual, almost playful — exactly the kind of thing he'd say on any other morning. But that's what made it cruel. Even now, he was trying to soften the blow, pretending this was just another goodbye, just another mission.
You didn't say anything as he walked to the door. Didn't wish him luck or tell him to be safe. The time for those platitudes had passed.
Instead, you watched him pause in the doorway, his hand resting on the frame. For a moment, you thought he might turn around, might drop the act and let you see something real. One last true moment before the end.
He didn't fully turn, but his voice carried back to you, soft and achingly sincere. "I love you. More than anything." A pause. "That's why I have to go."
The words hit you like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs. You'd never expected them, had made peace with the silence between heartbeats where those words should have lived.
You'd imagined them differently, in all the quiet moments you'd shared — whispered against your skin in the dark, laughed into your mouth between kisses, murmured sleepily on lazy mornings. Not like this. Never like this.
How cruel, that he would finally say them now, when they felt more like a funeral rite than a confession. A parting gift from a man walking towards his own chosen end, making what should have been beautiful feel like another wound. The words you'd never dared hope for now hurt more than a lifetime of silence ever could.
Your throat burned with all the things you wanted to scream at him — about how love should mean staying, about how he was breaking your heart while trying to save it, about how dare he make those words sound like goodbye when they should have been a beginning.
"I hate you," you whispered.
He made a sound that might have been a laugh or might have been something more broken. "No, you don't." The certainty in his voice felt like another wound. "You love me. You said so yourself."
"I'll hate you." Your voice hardened with each word. "I'll hate you so much it'll make you wish you'd stayed."
His hand tightened on the doorframe, knuckles white with tension. For a heartbeat, you thought you'd finally cracked his composure. That he might turn around and choose you over duty, love over destiny.
He didn't.
The door closed behind him with a soft click that sounded like an ending.
"But I'll wait for you anyway," you whispered to the empty room, hating yourself for the truth in those words.
The truth was, you'd always known it would end like this, known that loving Satoru Gojo meant loving someone who belonged to the world before he belonged to you.
But you'd been naive enough to hope. Foolish enough to think that maybe, just maybe, love could be enough to make him choose differently. That your selfish desire to keep him alive and whole could outweigh his selfless need to reshape the world.
The morning light cut across the empty room, highlighting the space where he'd stood moments before, and you wondered about the cruelty of it all.
Was it wrong to want to keep him here? To ask the strongest sorcerer alive to choose personal happiness over humanity's future? How many would suffer because you'd asked him to be selfish just this once?
But then again, how many had already been saved by him? How many times had he bled and broken and pieced himself back together for a world that only saw him as a shield, never as a man? Didn't he deserve the chance to live for himself, just once?
If love died today, buried six feet under noble intentions and greater goods, then maybe hate was all you had left. And wasn't there something pure in that? In hating him with the same intensity you'd loved him? In letting that hate fill the spaces he left behind, burning away the softness until all that remained was sharp edges and bitter truths?
The world needed Satoru Gojo the symbol, the untouchable god of jujutsu. But you'd needed Satoru, just Satoru, the man who brought you tea exactly how you liked it and kissed you like you were his everything. The man who was walking away, leaving you with nothing but memories and the taste of hate on your tongue.
Was it selfish to think your love was worth more than the world's need? Was it cruel to measure the weight of one heart against humanity's future?
Love and duty were never meant to be weighed against each other like this, weren't meant to be choices that tore a person in two. And perhaps that was the real tragedy — not that he was walking away, but that you'd let yourself believe he wouldn't.
You'd known how this story would end from that very first kiss. Had tasted it in every goodbye before a mission, felt it every time you waited anxiously for his return, seen it lurking behind every smile that never quite reached his eyes.
Loving Satoru Gojo meant loving someone who was always meant to be sacrificed. You'd just been naive enough to think sacrifice could look different, that it didn't have to end with you here, choking on love turned to ash in your mouth.
Your fingers traced your lips where those three words still lingered like a curse. The tea was getting cold on the windowsill. You should pour it out, make a fresh cup. Should start preparing for a world where Satoru Gojo was just a memory, a legend, a story of sacrifice and strength. Should learn how to breathe around the thorns growing in your chest where love used to live.
Instead, you stayed frozen, caught in the space between what was and what could have been. Because maybe he was wrong. Maybe the world didn't need someone stronger. Maybe it just needed him to come back. You certainly did.
But it was too late for maybes now. He was already gone, walking toward a destiny he'd chosen long before he'd chosen you. And you were left here, caught between hating him for leaving and loving him for exactly who he was — a man who would always choose the greater good, even when it shattered both your hearts.
But perhaps the cruelest irony was that in trying to protect humanity, he'd forgotten he was human too. That in becoming everyone's shield, he'd forgotten shields could break. That hearts could break. That yours was breaking.
The sun climbed higher in the sky, indifferent to your pain, indifferent to the way your world had just walked out the door with a smile and a promise he might not be able to keep.
You'd wait anyway. Even knowing how the story was meant to end, you'd wait. Because that's what love was — not just the beautiful parts, but the ugly parts too. The waiting. The hoping. The hating.
The choosing to love someone even when they choose something else. Even when that love turns to poison in your veins.
Even when they choose the world over you.
The tea had long gone cold when you finally moved, muscles stiff from standing still for so long. You'd sworn you wouldn't watch. Had promised yourself you wouldn't be there to see him die for his greater tomorrow.
But your hands were already reaching for your jacket.
Because that was the thing about loving Satoru Gojo — even when it turned to hate, even when it felt like acid in your throat, you couldn't look away. You'd watch him fight Sukuna. Watch him smile that infuriating smile as he chose the world one last time.
After all, you'd already promised to hate him if he didn't come back.
The least you could do was be there to keep that promise.
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author's note — thank you for reading this little piece of heartbreak. i was very unsure if it will ever see the light of day but i finished it now bc i was in the mood for pain. if you enjoyed, i would greatly appreciate a reblog or comment. hope your heart isn't too broken <3
ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here!
tags — @fayuki @starmapz @saurondriell @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna
@cocomanga @nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @shervinss @chiyokoemilia
@janbannan @bloopsstuff
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© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.
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gilbertscurls · 2 days ago
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heyy girl first of alll your writing is the best and best writer here and your fluff is just AHHHH i really wait everyday for u to post so i got a request fans edit Chris and reader to no.1 party anthem sing by artic monkey mybe its edit of chris talking about her or anything ANDILOVEYOUU
omg you're so nice, i love you!!!! i hope you like it <3
Yapping ➔ Chris Sturniolo
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The low hum of the city filtered through the cracked window, mingling with the faint sound of cars drifting up from the street below. You leaned back against the couch, phone in hand, mindlessly scrolling through TikTok as Chris's voice carried from the kitchen. He was rummaging through cupboards, probably looking for the last pack of his favorite snack, his faint mutterings punctuating the quiet.
It was the kind of lazy day where time seemed to slip away unnoticed. Your thumb swiped up the screen, passing by dance trends, funny memes, and cooking hacks, until something familiar caught your eye.
A video with the hashtag #SturnioloTriplets popped up on your For You page. It was one of those fan-made edits that you occasionally found yourself watching—clips of Chris, Nick, and Matt in their usual chaotic, fun-loving glory. You tapped on it, expecting a montage of their latest shenanigans.
But what you saw made your heart skip a beat.
The video opened with Chris sitting in front of the camera, a familiar setting that looked like the triplets' car. His usual animated self was present—his hands gesturing wildly, his face full of that vibrant energy he was known for. It was one of his “yapping” sessions, where he rambled on about anything that popped into his head. But today, instead of talking about a meme or some funny moment with his brothers, he was talking about you.
"Man, I don’t even know how to explain it," Chris was saying, his voice soft but filled with affection. "She just
 she’s everything. Every day, she makes me feel like the luckiest guy alive. I mean, I never believed in fate or anything like that, but the second we met? It was like
 I don’t know. It just clicked." He paused, running a hand through his hair, his expression shifting to something far more sincere than his usual joking demeanor. "She makes me want to be better, you know? I’m just—I'm so in love with her."
Your heart melted at the sound of his voice, the raw sincerity in his words taking you by surprise. You had heard him say it before, but this
 this felt different. As the clip played on, his face softened even more as he continued, "I don’t think she realizes how much she means to me. I could talk about her all day, but she’d probably just roll her eyes at me."
The screen flickered, and then, instead of just his words, the video transitioned into an edit. It was a soft montage of moments—your moments together. A collection of clips pulled from the triplets’ vlogs, his social media posts, and those little private, candid shots that had somehow made it into the public eye. There was a shot of you laughing together in the kitchen, your head thrown back, eyes sparkling as Chris pulled a goofy face. Another was of the two of you walking hand-in-hand, your fingers intertwined in a way that made everything around you feel quiet and still, just the two of you in your own world. There was a shot of you sitting next to him during one of their live streams, both of you leaning in close as he whispered something funny in your ear, making you laugh so hard you almost snorted.
The song lyrics echoed in the background, making the edit even more heartfelt.
It was a perfect blend of those little moments that spoke volumes—subtle, intimate, and filled with love. The video cut back to Chris, a soft smile on his face as he looked into the camera. "I don't think she knows it, but she’s my everything. And I’ll never stop saying that."
The look of love, the rush of blood
The "She's with me"'s, the Gallic shrug
The shutterbugs, the Camera Plus
The black & white and the color dodge
The good time girls, the cubicles
The house of fun, the number one
Party anthem
The video ended with his smiling face and a caption: “Chris Sturniolo, everyone’s favorite yapping sweetheart.” You sat there for a moment, staring at the screen, your heart doing flips in your chest. You had always known how much Chris loved you, but seeing it in this way? It made your chest tighten, a flood of affection and warmth rushing over you.
You looked up just in time to see Chris saunter back into the room, a mischievous grin on his lips.
“What’s got you so smiley?” he asked, collapsing next to you on the couch, his arm slipping behind your shoulders. The scent of him—faint cologne and warmth—enveloped you.
“Just this,” you said, turning your phone towards him, the last frame of the edit paused on his face, mid-laugh.
Chris’s eyebrows shot up, and then that familiar, teasing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Oh, so you found it, huh? Yeah, I might’ve gone a little overboard that day.”
“No,” you whispered, leaning into him, feeling the beat of your pulse against his. “It was perfect.”
His eyes softened, and for a moment, there was no screen, no city noise, no world outside the two of you. Just the number one party anthem playing between heartbeats.
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tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove
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biancadoes1 · 3 days ago
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Does anyone else feel like the tabloids and panicking fans robbed us of the biggest breadcrumb post of all time from N. The makeup artist being all coy in the post he tagged her in just makes me think she had more planned for that. He didn't just say "Nicola Coughlan today for a yet to be announced project" He said, "Nicola Coughlan today for... Actually, never mind what for." I know N didn't write it but it's giving coy. It's intentionally building anticipation for something. And I have to imagine she was told what he would say. Not to mention if she didn't want people to speculate about it she could have asked him not to post until it was announced or at all. Even if you don't think the dress and the rings were a reference to anything (Which honestly I have moments where I doubt this. She loves to rewear a dress) I just can't help but think she originally planned to post about it with a cheeky Luke coded song in the background or something but then the cascading pap disasters happened and she decided to ignore it.
I also feel this way.
I think this would have been talked about way more had the lock screen never come up.
So can we get back to that? Let’s talk about the fact that Nicola chose a project with that particular story line knowing what her online fans will think?
Subtlety wasn’t thrown out the window with this one. It was shot out of a fucking cannon and landed right on us.
Love it.
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hellfirecvnt · 2 days ago
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Don't Piss me Off (Pt. 2)
John Q. (Simon) X Fem!Reader
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Warnings: Smut, oral (female receiving), "public" sex, unprotected sex (don't do that), poor life choices.
Summary: You still can't stand sticking around your parents for too long, but you stay in town for a while longer just to see him play. PART ONE IS HERE!!
Notes: I love him. I'm gonna write a million versions of the same story I stg. I didn't proof read. I got like 6 ideas at once and they're all getting written at the same time.
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In the basement of a warehouse you'd assume abandoned, Simon and his band consisting of a handful of less ill-tempered, but just as dirty and dead-looking men set up for their performance. They're all spitting insults at each other as they scramble to plug in each meticulous piece of shoddy equipment they've acquired.
Simon's preoccupied. Clearly stuck on the thought of you. He realized hours ago that he never told you about the show tonight. He's wrapping the wire of the mic around his fist when he overhears the stagehands. "I didn't make it to Y/N's last party, I figured there would at least be one more before she bolted."
"She went back home?" Simon interrupts.
"Yeah, man. She left today, I'm pretty sure." The stagehands hoist a large amp to its spot, leaving Simon in the silence of realizing you two have no way of contacting each other. That's it. He shrugs his shoulders, brushing off any disappointment, as he's used to things falling through. Nothing's special to someone like him, or that's what he tells himself. He reaches into his back pocket and reveals a pair of underwear that had gotten tangled with his clothes when you did his laundry. He chuckles at the thought of how he would've made you think he stole them on purpose. He stuffs them back into his pocket and gets ready to perform as people start piling in the small venue.
You're nearly flooring it back to that gas station. Once inside, you leap over the counter and snatch the poster from the wall. "God damn! You could've just asked for the fucking flyer, man!" The cashier exclaims, certain you were attempting to rob the store.
"I don't have time!" You yell behind you as you sprint out the door. "Old fuckin' Mill building? Where the fuck is that?" You mumble to yourself, frustrated. You read that Psyops isn't set to play for another 30 minutes, so you speed around town to every old and decrepit site you can find. Four failures before you find the warehouse hosting the show tonight. "Finally!" You slam the van in park before bolting to the door.
"It's $10 to get in," a nonchalant man at the door huffs. You shove the money into his hand and he opens the large, black, graffitied door behind him. You're not shy in a crowd, so when you hear the boisterous speakers blasting the sound of guitar riffs through the building, you start shoving. The vibration sends the decently sized crowd into a wave of cheers and you finally make your way toward the front. You can hear a voice over the speakers, Simon. It's hard to make out what he's saying, but once the song starts, the crowd starts moving.
You're being jostled around for most of the set. Song after song, you try to force yourself to the front, but to no avail. Finally, once Simon takes one step off the slightly raised platform on which they're performing, you can reach him. His grip is white-knuckled around the microphone, now's your chance. You lunge forward and wrap a hand around the mic, pulling yourself forward. Confused and annoyed by the sudden tugging, Simon pulls back, effectively breaking through the wall of people blocking you. The moment your eyes meet his, under his ski mask, he grins. In the moment bringing you before him, he'd missed a few bars of the song, but effortlessly picks back up once you're front and center.
It feels like his eyes are locked on you for the rest of their set. You hate to admit it, but it's a hell of a show. The energy of the crowd, their presence on stage. No wonder Simon feels so strongly about it. He's a different person when he's John Q. An alias you found out about when you were seniors, and you hoped staying quiet about it would've shown him you weren't the snitch, but instead it took a coke bender several, several years later. Plus, he wasn't much less of a loser than you were. Who fucking cared back then that he has a stage name?
After Psyops' set, you and Simon slip outside for a smoke. Riled up from the show, he's too abuzz to make sure his face matches the angry stare he usually wears. "Someone said you were headed home already, didn't think I'd see you at a show any time soon," he says, lighting a cigarette.
"Said I would," you echo his words from his promise to back you up next time you got yourself into an altercation. "Can't let fucking John Q. be more trustworthy than me." Simon laughs at the mention of his stage persona. "I like the mask, though."
"Oh, yeah? That do somethin' for you?" He teases, reaching into his pocket for the mask, but pulling out a different wad of fabric. "Oops," he laughs, dangling your panties in front of you.
"Is that my fuckin' underwear, you god damn pervert?" You curl your lip, put off by the invasive behavior.
"They might be yours, I don't know. I get a lot pussy." Simon smirks with his eyes darkened on you.
"Jesus Christ, what the fuck-" you're ready to lay into him, too violated to make any excuses despite how attractive he looks with messy hair and drying sweat.
"Calm the fuck down, they got mixed up with my shit when you washed my clothes at your house," he laughs. You roll your eyes and jump to grab them, but he's too quick. You miss the swipe and are now a great deal closer to him. "I'm gonna hold on to these," he says with a low voice as he scoops you against him with a hand placed on the small of your back. A second passes like an eternity and the two of you lock lips as he stuffs your underwear into his pocket again, allowing some of the silk and lace detail to hang out. As the kiss deepens, his hands move down your body, to your thighs before he grips your ass roughly. Soft moans escape against his lips as he gropes various parts of your curves.
"Do you know how worked up you get me?" He whispers between the press of your kiss. "Thought you left before I could get a taste." He reaches for your eyelet belt, but you stop him.
"Someone's gonna see us."
"Call it an encore," he mumbles before going back at your belt, but you swat him away again.
"At least take me around back, dumbass." You grab a fistful of his shirt and nearly drag him around the corner. It's dark and concealed from any passerby. He lifts you up onto a pad-mounted transformer and wraps your legs around him, still moving his head in sync with yours as each of your tongues explore each other's mouths.
"I guess I was kind of a prick to you back in the day, huh?" He whispers, running his hand through your hair.
"You were an angry piece of shit, yeah. We fuckin' or having a breakthrough?"
"Shut the fuck up for a second," he snaps. "I'm trying to apologize." He slips your denim shorts off your legs and all but falls to his knees in front of the large metal, green box you're sat on. His nimble index finger hooks around your thong and pulls it to the side. You barely have time to process what his "apology" will be before he plunges his head between your thighs. You fight to stifle a surprised moan as he conducts his skillful movements against your sensitive skin.
"Simon, oh, my God!" You whine, arching your back against the friction. He laughs against your skin sending waves of vibrations through your legs. One of his hands is occupied holding your panties to the side, the other is hooked around your hip, holding you securely in place as he meticulously works you over the edge.
"You want me to stop?" He asks, lips framed with drenched facial hair.
"No! No, I-" he cuts off your plea, resuming his position.
"Then stop fighting me," he snaps, harshly pinning you to the metal with the hand he had hooked on your hip. The stimulation quickly builds up, becoming too much, too quickly. You throw your head back and tangle a fist in his hair as he guides you through the high. Your legs shake and threaten to close around him, but his grip is too strong. You remain exactly where he wants you until you've ridden out your orgasm. You're slumped back on your elbows with your head down, breathing heavily as you return to reality.
Simon towers over you where you lay, staring down at you with his dark-circled eyes. You look up and watch him teasingly wipe his mouth, licking his lips like you're the first thing he's devoured in months. He slips your shorts halfway up your legs for you, leaving the rest of the work for whenever you can feel your legs again. "Um," you sigh. "Apology accepted."
"Tits."
"Is 'tits' good?" You furrow your eyebrows. He sighs, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.
"You're leaving tonight, huh?" Simon lights a cigarette.
"Well... That's the plan." You feel a pit in your stomach when you think about going back home. The place is nice, it's far away. It's what you wanted, but life is full and meaningless. You don't have friends out there, it didn't strike you how hard it'd be to meet people in your mid 20s.
"You don't sound so sure about that plan, Y/N." He exhales a cloud that illuminates under the street lamp's orange glow.
"It's boring out there, but it's quiet. It's peaceful. My parents aren't in my ear telling me trying something new could kill me." You shrug.
"That's why you're running? Because of your frigid bitch mom and dad?" Simon laughs as if it's the funniest thing he's ever heard.
"Okay, well. You know, maybe don't call them that or I'll lay you the fuck out, but yeah." You stand and fasten your shorts and belt, knees still threatening to buckle. "You had a hand in me leaving too."
"I know, I apologized!" He gestures to your trembling legs and you laugh.
"Yeah, yeah," you wave your hand at him. "Where'd you go? I was in town for weeks. I thought you were in the pin."
"I didn't want to overstay my welcome," he chuckles. "Or watch another fuckin' 80s movie with the volume on ten." He turns to look at you and he smirks.
"Well, my parents are in town now. I still have the rest of this week off. I was gonna spend it getting unpacked, but-"
"Fuck that. Let's go, you're driving." He walks off around the building toward the parking lot and you're dumbfounded for a moment.
"Of course I'm driving, it's my van!" You scramble after him. He hops in your passenger seat and you pull out of the lot, leaving his disgruntled band mates to pack up their own equipment. "You're not gonna help them?"
"What for? My shit's in the van. It's a microphone."
"Yeesh, sorry. Forgot you're actually kind of the worst when your head's not between my legs," you tease and Simon can't suppress a smile. As you cruise down the dark road, bright blue lights ignite in your mirrors. "Fuck. Get it the back." Simon wastes no time, he throws himself in the spacious rear area of the van as you pull over. You both wait anxiously for the cop to approach the window. Everything feels silent, until you finally hear the footsteps.
"I'm gonna run," Simon whispers, hand on the rear door latch.
"Don't." You demand sharply, rolling down your window for the cop. The air feels still and tight. It seems like it takes hours for the cop to speak, but when he does it's a routine traffic stop. He asks you if you knew how fast you were going and you innocently explain the floating nature of your speedometer. The officer laughs when he reads your ID and sees your last name.
"You're Frank's kid, right?"
"Yeah, his one and only." You beam, proudly. Happy to name drop your wealthy family.
"You just try to slow it down and tell your dad I said hello, alright?" The cop taps your door twice and sends you on your way. As you pull off, Simon peeks out from under the blankets and sighs with relief.
"Holy shit, with the way this thing looks, you should've been strip searched." Simon tosses himself back into the passenger seat.
"Don't shit-talk my van," you hiss. Simon proceeds to tell you where to go, each turn and shortcut, until you reach a large white house, almost as status defining as your parents'.
"My parents are out of town." He points to a concealed area to park and leads you to a basement door. He fights with a key for a moment before leading you inside. It's a messy basement room with red walls and posters from ceiling to floor. Instruments take up most of the space, aside from the bed.
"Do you avoid your parents like me, or do your parents avoid you?" You ask, bluntly, not considering the weight of that question.
"Both, I guess." He says after a long pause.
"You... Wanna smoke?" You ask, unsure how to navigate the silence.
"Can't. Fucks with my motivation," he grins. You shrug, rolling and smoking a joint by yourself while Simon works on some songs. He's got an ear for every instrument in his room, and he layers them over each other, creating complex instrumentals. It's nice to listen to while you lie on his bed and watch the swirling tendrils of smoke twist into the light and air above you.
"It sounds nice," you hum, settling into the cozy divot in the center of his mattress-on-the-floor.
"Write something for it," he commands, tossing a notepad and pen at you.
"Like lyrics? Why?" You stare at the blank page, unable to read the layers and layers of writing indented into it from Simon's heavy, angry hand.
"You need an out, I'm giving you one." He leans back in the rolling chair he resides in, staring me down like a hawk.
"I don't think I'm a very musical person. I think I'm more of a doodler, really," you argue, scribbling in the corner of the paper.
"Just fuckin' write something down and stop being a pussy." He snatches the pen from you and tosses it onto the pad.
"Bitch- How does that make me a pussy?" Your eyes narrow at him.
"It'd be too vulnerable. You're no tougher than that kid you were in high school. It's all fake now." It's clear he's taunting you. Making a fair attempt at reverse psychology.
"Fuck you, give me a minute," you huff, writing a line or two to start with. "Play your shit again." And he does. Restarting the instrumental he put together just for you. After a while, you've written something and you sling the notepad at Simon. He takes a moment to read through it a few times, almost trying to decode the melody of how I'd sang it in my head.
"Perfect. Now sing it." He nods toward his microphone stand.
"Fuck's sake, dude. Are you serious?" You whine, pushed further and further out of your comfort zone.
"Come on, let's see what you got," he says in a tone that lets me know I've already lost the argument.
"It doesn't feel good to be vulnerable to you."
"Tough it out." You roll your eyes at his demand, but you do it. You tough it out and recite your song over the music he provided. He hits 'restart,' and then 'record,' and then he points to you. After a measure you begin to sing. Low effort, but still angelic. Your song is about the feeling of being homesick no matter where you end up. It's about running and putting up a face as a defense mechanism. It's about wearing a mask.
When you're done singing and the music fades out, Simon slides the headphones off his ears. "That... Was tits." He looks elated. Like a poor painter with a new pallet.
"Is 'tits' good?" You ask again, emphasizing the lack of answer last time you asked.
"Yeah, 'tits' is good." He grins. "That was good."
"Fuck you. Who's not vulnerable?" You curl your lip, clearly more moved by the challenge than the release he was offering. Simon just shakes his head.
"Let's mix it." He beelines for the computer and begins fine tuning the song. You're watching in awe of his quick skill at this craft. As if watching him play all those instruments wasn't impressive enough. The night grows older. Simon offers you your favorite party favor, but you're over it. So the two of you share a joint.
"You don't ever get tired of living in a circle?" You ask through a cloud of smoke.
"A fuckin' circle?" He looks at you.
"Just, still in this town, still avoiding your parents, still making music alone in your room."
"Fuck," he huffs, offended but acknowledging the truth in your words. "Do you ever get tired of running from it?"
"Touché." You bring the joint to your lips as you lie in his disheveled bed. His arm snaked around you ages ago, slowly pulling you closer and closer to him. Like he's worried you'll float away.
"If our only two options are run away or get sucked into this shit hole of a town, I think we're a little fucked, don't you?" He chuckles to himself.
"Maybe those aren't the only options. We just don't have all the answers yet. I don't think anyone does." Your voice is wistful and quiet. You can feel Simon's eyes on you, but you stare at his dark ceiling. He rolls his eyes at your corny words, but he knows you're right. "It's funny, because if I could run from the uncertainty too, I would." You giggle, aware of your vices and poor coping skills.
"Yeah, you would," Simon mocks.
"And you? You're just going to live with it? Sit right beside the discomfort and accept that for yourself? Have you ever tried to give yourself more, even if it meant running?" You're slowly building up a sense of passion behind your words and Simon just listens, staring deeply into your eyes as you speak. Suddenly, you're cut off when he wraps a hand around the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. His lips crash into yours and the two of you melt into each other.
You can't even remember what you were saying, you just know you don't want to stop touching him. The heat of the kiss begins to swell as Simon's hands trail up and down your body. He's grabbing at you in a specific order, like he's been waiting to get his hands on it. Really get his hands on it. You grasp at the hem of his shirt, tugging in semblance to take it the fuck off, and he does.
His broad, pale chest rises and falls with anticipation as you strip off the same article of clothing. "Jesus Christ," he moans, pulling you to him to shove his face directly between your breasts. He breathes deeply, taking you in. With one swift motion, he's hoisted you on top of him, your legs straddling his waist. Simon unfastens the button on your jeans before tossing you to the side to undress you.
You're both naked and greatly anticipating the next moment your skin will touch. Seconds feel like hours until you're pressed against each other again. Simon buries his face in the crook of your neck as he guides his throbbing erection to your entrance. You're squirming and arching beneath him, and he releases a breathy laugh as he watches you writhe. "You're aching for it," he groans.
"Fuck you," you hiss, pulling him closer to you by his shoulders. All he does is chuckle before slowly slipping inside you. You moan loudly as you adjust to his size. Something about a lanky, dead-eyed man. His pace is steady as he rocks his hips against yours, picking up speed as you gush around him. Soon his thrusts are hard and rough, and your loud, vulgar moans echo off his bedroom walls.
"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he huffs, pulling out of you and tossing you aside. Simon quickly repositions you in front of him, on all fours. You let your back arch naturally, putting on a bit of a show for him as he watches you. His eyes are darkened and his smirk sends chills down your spine. You can't help but smile wide in excitement. With two round hands, he grabs your waist and positions you at the perfect height. His hands wander the soft flesh of your ass as you press up against him. "You drive me fucking crazy..." He sighs as he slips inside you.
Simon digs the tips of his fingers into your skin, pulling you against him with every violent thrust. You do everything you can to contort your body to give him more of you. He throws his head back, falling into a sloppy, unsteady pace. His breathing is wild and primal all the way up until the point of climax. You release a loud, fluttering moan as he fucks you through your high, quickly withdrawing to finish on your back and ass. You're both breathless for a while, the room is silent but for the sound of your lungs filling and deflating.
Simon climbs off the bed, but you're too fucked out to even raise your head up to watch where he's going. Moments later, he returns, towel in hand. He cleans you up and lands a hard smack on your right ass cheek. The sound is thunderous against the silence. You yelp and break into quiet chuckles.
Finally, you have the strength to roll over. You sit up against the mess of pillows that became a sort of headboard for his bed, feeling beautiful and bare before him. It's a nice feeling that you're not used to. Sure you've had your flings, but it's never occurred to you how quickly you tend to leave or cover up after. Not this time. You're both fully exposed and Simon's eyes drink you in, one last time before he speaks. "Don't go back." You stare at him for a long while, silent.
"I won't," you gasp, surprised by your own promise. As soon as the words leave your mouth, his lips are on yours. In the next few days, you quit your job and Simon rides with you to go back and get the most important of your shit. The rest goes with the trailer when you sell it. You don't run a single thing past your parents and you don't tell them you're coming back to town. It's a new sense of peace and adventure, though it feels like abandoning your old life.
After a month of van living, you and Simon get an apartment and constantly receive complaints about the noise, but nothing stops the music overflowing from your floor of the building. A new sense of bliss. It's comfortable now.
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matchadobo · 2 days ago
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Hi! Can I request "you act like a brat all day and you expect me to do nothing about it?" but with the entire Kid Pirates đŸ„”đŸ„”đŸ„”
Thank you so much! I love how you write Kid 💝
KIDD, KILLER, HEAT, WIRE; brat
đŸŒ·matchadobo's 500 followers eventđŸŒ·
wc: 3161
dialogue: "you act like a brat all day and you expect us to do nothing about it?"
warning/s: sooo nsfw🔞 this is the filthiest thing i've ever written up to this day! đŸ„”, fem reader, 5some (kidd, killer, heat, wire, reader), idk if this is considered dubcon?, implied established, no plot really just p0rn, rough seggs, fingering, cunnilingus, flame/fire play?, voyeurism
note: hi anon! i hope you mean just the main gang of kidd pirates? i CANNOT for the life of me construct a smut with an entire pirate group omg 😳, this is my first time creating smut for more than three people i hope i did it justice >__<
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if there's one thing that pushes kidd to his limits, especially when it comes to you, it's his jealousy. it's not that he's not secured enough about your loyalty with him, it's the way you act like nothing is going on between the both of you. frankly, the five of you.
killer, heat, and wire were no strangers to this feeling either. they felt indignant as you sat with a couple of dudes, blatantly mingling and flirting with them. although there was nothing further than a friendly interaction with the foreign batch of men in the pub, laughing at their jokes and brushing arms and hands with them from time to time pissed off your crewmates. most of all kidd, who's gone down way more than a couple of barrels of rum for someone who says he'll just have a drink.
"oi, slow down, captain. thought we'll resupply today." heat nudged kidd, a dry laugh as he looked at his unfazed friend. his eyes boring holes through you.
"bout that, think we have to postpone that. let's stay in 'ere for another day for tomorrow." he finally placed the mug down, wiping off the remnants of liquid on his lips with the back of his palm.
"postpone? have we got other plans?" killer asked, turning to kidd who turned stood up and padded off his pants.
"her." wire immediately caught up, following after kidd who walked undeterred towards your table. they were from the bar and you were sat on some table across somewhere. they think it's almost intentional at this point that they have a full view of this. if you're trying to rile them up, you've suceeded.
though you're not sure if it ends good for you, with the way each of them are glaring at you when they stood before your table. their eyes raising goosebumps on your skin making your throat run dry.
"we got any problems, gentlemen?" the foreign men around you initiated, referring to kidd and his men looming over you.
"they're my crewmates." you introduced with distinterest, pissed that they're gonna ruin a moment for you because you know what those looks mean. "you know what? i think i should get going, thanks for the drinks." you smiled and bid goodbye to them, expression faltering as you met kidd's eyes.
"hey," one of them had a hold of your arm and kidd and the others almost whipped out their weapons to slash that guy's arm because of his motherfucking audacity. "you sure you're all good?"
you nodded with a smile, a pained one now that it got cut short. you later asked kidd and the others to come with you outside.
"what is it? do we have to go now?" you crossed your arms, sighing and looking at each of these hulking men.
"still don't get it do you?" kidd shifted in his foot, chuckling soullessly.
"guess we oughta remind it to 'er again, captain." wire butted in, putting an arm around you. you glared at him as you looked up, face contorted as you knitted your eyebrows in cofusion.
"what? guys? am i missing somethi- hey! kidd! put me down!" kidd swept you off your feet, he carried you on his shoulder like you weigh nothing. you drummed on his back while muttering out curses on his way back to the ship.
there was always this tension around the five of you, particularly on your end and it's towards theirs. it's begging to be addressed. it's so precarious and it stifles you to your very core. so much so that the mere sight of them looming around you right now drives you nuts and the fear shudders down your thighs. you're wet as hell.
he placed you down the couch on his room, wire sat on one side while heat on the other. killer stood not far from where you were, leaning his bum on the furniture with his arms crossed on kidd's dresser beside the couch; keen on observing. while kidd paced before you in a slow manner, he did it in a way that instigated fear in you for what might be in store for you.
"strip."
it was an order. eyes right at you as he stopped to face you with his arms crossed. kidd's gaze was dark amidsts his bright yellow irises, it was demeaning and you felt your chest tighten.
"what? kidd, what the hell?"
"you heard him, name." killer spoke and it somewhat made the air thicker because he's usually quiet. when it came out of him, it feels more stern that the acid in your stomach starts crawling up your throat. "you've been a brat all day and you expect us to do nothing about it?"
killer's blue eyes felt deadly behind his mask. despite being covered, you can feel the holes boring through you as he kept his voice in the same tone yet with a foreboding volume.
but shit. you wanted to have some fun and meet new people, and if things work see how things will go from there. but you didn't realize that it'd be a problem with them. after all, no strings attached right? but it's attention you really wanted and they couldn't give it to you because they were too into their guy shit. so you got annoyed at them and opted to find some other people to satisfy your needs. apparently they're too busy talking about how one metal differs from the other to spare you some sort of affection.
"y'all weren't even batting me an eye, for fuck's sake." you crossed your arms, gazing to the window with crashing waves. avoiding eye contact at all costs, but you know damn well they had all their eyes on you. "didn't think the lot of you would care if i mess around a little bit. and now you're asking me to fuck you guys? hah."
"so you missed us, that it?" kidd raised a brow, grinning at the realization that you wanted them again.
"aaaw, that stings, name. you're cruel." heat mumbled, his inked hands precarious on your thigh. "think you can be a doll and make it up to us?"
heat and killer were always the sweet ones, wire and kidd are the most vicious; during sex and well, your relationship. the former would always be some sort of your best friend and would be kind enough to think about you than their own pleasures during sex. but the latter will always be on their mission to fuck you up in the most demeaning way possible, they're never fucking kind. they always teased and fucked with you, be a little shit around you and annoy you in the worst ways possible. and during sex, their benevolence isn't to be expected. they'd always finish with you in the filthiest way possible that you wouldn't even remember your name right.
which explains why wire was the first to catch your lips and bury his tongue down your throat. he initally had his arm around you but when you wouldn't stop bitching about them letting you go, he'd had enough and ought to just shut you up in the best way he thinks he can. you squrimed under his lips, eyes shut tight. he held your wrist with one hand while the other settled in pushing the back of your neck to his. you pulled away by force, staring up at him as he donned a pompous smirk and eager eyes.
"oh? what's wrong, name? thought you wanted attention?"
"fuck off, wire. fucking get off."
"and hey, for the third time, you heard the captain. otherwise we'd rip off your favorite dress."
you rolled your eyes with a deep blush on your cheeks. whatever, this'll be quick. you struggled to reach behind you the zipper that goes way down the bottom of your spine. heat chuckled, placing his hand over yours so he could take over. he gave your shoulder a dry peck before helping you out of your dress.
killer took matters into his own hands and sauntered towards you, holding your jaw with one arm as he discarded his helmet with the other. he ran his thumb across your cheek, smiling as he looked into your eyes down to your naked frame. like a kitten, you nuzzled your face deep on his calloused palms. he unzipped his pants while keeping his grip on you, he soon held of one of your hands and guide it down his groin where his painfully hard boner is begging to be released.
"handle it for me, yeah?" he rubbed circles on your cheekbones, soon brushing your hair out of your face as he combed through your locks. "i'll let it slide this time if you do well, dove."
and it shocked you to your very core when killer was quick to push himself so far down your throat when you had just put his length in your mouth. your tears fell as his head touched the back of your throat forcefully. you had to grab a hold of his hips, nails digging by the sides of his pelvis. you whined with your mouth full, he was too kind to pull away and give you a break.
you panted, drool and bubbles on your mouth dripping as it coated your chin. killer grimaced, rubbed his length on your cheeks and teased his head on your numbing lips.
"'s wrong? can't fuckin' take killer when he's not bein' nice?!" kidd grinned behind him, wrapping his hand around your throat to spit in your mouth. "you know damn well you're not gettin' off this easy. now, suck it." kidd fisted your hair, letting killer fuck your mouth the way he pleases with kidd in control.
heat and wire were palming themselves in their pants, the feel of your bare body next to them is enough to render their cocks hard. they yearned to touch you, explore your body and pleasure you the way you're pleasuring killer.
there was a good while where killer's grunts and the gurgles and gags of your throat filled the room. you were crying not from pain but from the blond's intense pace. you had never seen him this eager and rough, maybe you really did piss him off that's why he had to take it out on you. but soon enough, killer came down your throat, taking a long while to keep his cock inside you while you drink up every bit of his release.
your chest heaved as you sat on the couch, head hanging loosely from the backrest. dizzy as you try and recover from a mouthful of killer's load.
you turned to wire who touched you a little to precariously down to your soaked panties. you hear a lowly chuckle vibrate from his chest, amused at your state. he palmed you through your panties, while the other had wrapped around your throat. you placed a hand over his arm, as if begging to give you a break and recover. but he just grinned and his fingers became faster. the grip around your throat became tighter.
heat was just reveling in the feel of your skin and rubbed circles back and forth close to your inner thigh. he placed your thigh above his so you can open up more for the brunette.
kidd got behind you, pressing your cheek to his crotch, his head peeking out of his underwear. you looked up at him with glassy eyes, but of course he wouldn't care. you fucked up that bad.
killer was still at high from earlier, but he stroked his cock at the sight of his friends fucking you up. it got him off as you try and take all of kidd in behind you while quirming as wire got his fingers buried deep in you.
"so overstimulated already and we haven't even gotten to the best part?" wire taunted you as he stared down at your half-lidded eyes, his thumb teasing your clit.
they all laughed a little when you tried your best to curse out a muffled 'fuck you' as you struggled with kidd abusing your mouth. the redhead had a hand around your throat to keep your head bent backwards, cum spilling down your cheeks mixed with the tears in your eyes from gagging to much. he really doesn't know when to stop, this man.
and when kidd was finally done with you, killer held your head delicately on his toned stomach, supporting it as you fell weak. he fetched a towel and wiped off the filth on your face, placing a kiss down your ear afterward.
but wire wasn't done with you yet, he was so keen on curling his long fingers in you that you continue to lose all sense with your eyes rolling at the back of your head. "f-fuck, wire. please..!" you whined, gripping his arm and trying to stop him. but really it felt good.
"please what? let you cum? go faster? stop? what is it, angel?" he raised a brow, cunning as he acted coy. and you honestly didn't know what to answer, so you just threw your head back and scratched at his arm so hard it left a scar.
"ah you're way too mean to name, wire. come on, i still haven't gotten my turn yet." heat jumped in, stroking your hair as he brushed the hairs sticking on your forehead out of your face.
"well, you heard him, name. what do you say we finish up, hm?" his pace went so fast you thought you were going to die, you felt your saliva caught in your throat and you couldn't mumble your words right. it was all slurring from here on out.
but your throbbing cunt wasn't even spared by heat, who was starving the moment he helped you out of your clothes. your thighs rested on his shoulder while kidd took the mint-haired's former place beside you, snaking an arm around your waist as he played with your tits from behind while his mechanical arm had a firm grip around your throat.
kidd always had a penchant in choking you, along with the filthy little praises he's whispering at you. he adored how you looked at him with so much indignance, almost wanting to kill him but you can't. cuz what he's doing feels good. the constriction around your throat as he degrades you and tells you how much of a little whore you are.
"seems you're enjoyin' your punishment a little too much, huh? matter of fact this ain't even punishin', aye? it feels so good being treated like the slut you are, doesn't it?" he growled in your ear, his guttural whispers sends shivers down your spine and it doesn't help that heat's way too busy devouring you down there.
by this time, you were feeling so drunk and you're incapable of any sound other than sinful slurs and moans. you whined against kidd's frame, crying as he peppered your face with his crimson-stained lips.
heat had this habit to use 10% of his firepower to warm up his mouth for you, it tickles and it feels amazing. he first teased a tiny bit of flame between your chest, his lips precarious on your skin, so close yet he doesn't touch it. he took a peak at you through his dark eyes, his pants growing tight as he saw you squirming at his actions, looking down at him with begging eyes.
he trailed his flames down your belly button, tickling a giggle out of you as your stomach heaved. soon and it reached your cunt, which was gaping and clenching at the eagerness of heat's stimulation. he wasted no time sucking you up, interspersing his warmth in your soaking folds. it was ecstatic and you didn't know what to do with yourself.
you couldn't even reach down to fist his mint locks because kidd and wire had you restrained. all you could do was drool from moaning too much, the overstimulation driving you nuts.
you grunted, writhing in pain and pleasure as that same warmth pooled in your stomach once more. you had lost track of the number of times you came. it was starting to feel numb and you had lost all sanity to even think about how filthy you look right now, sitting down the damp fabric of kidd's couch soaked with your juices.
it tickles when heat eats you out, so you were wriggling in your seat as he refused to breathe out and continued suffocating himself with your cunt. you mumbled curses and insults, eyes rolling at the back of your head as you choked out a moan when you finally came. your thighs shook and you panted like hell. heat gave you one last kiss on your inner thigh before wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand.
kidd carried your limp body towards his bed, you hadn't notice he was completely naked now if not for his cock poking your back when he carried you bridal style. you were so clearly out of it, eyes half lidded and hazy.
"oi, oi." kidd had a grip on your jaw, kissing your nose afterward. "think you can do more than have a couple of orgasms, aye? come on, that all you got? let's enjoy ourselves, hm?" kidd really does his best rile you up in any fucking situation and it irritated you.
"fuck, this really is a punishment." you covered your face, still blushing from the previous encounters. "will you go easy on me, kidd?" you peeked between your fingers but he just laughed at you.
instead, he flipped your frame the other way where your ass is facing him and you were facing the guys. his favorite position always. you were on your fours, he bent down to whisper in your ear. "never." he bit on your ear before pushing your head down the bed and sliding his cock so mercilessly in you. it helped that you were so wet that he was able to push right through.
you groaned in the sheets, fisting it so hard it ripped a little. your muffled screams were soon turned into cacophonous moans that said a lot about how good you felt when he pinned your arms behind you and held your neck up from behind.
"see them? they're just as hungry for you, waiting for me to be finished with you." kidd whispered in your ear, his pace unforgiving as he continued to kept pulsing on your cervix, holding your jaw so you could take a good look at the others pleasuring themselves at the sight of you. "you see, we wouldn't have to go this rough if you had just told us you missed us. didn't have to go an extra mile and mess around with some damn nobodies, hm? so take it like a fuckin' brat that you are."
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girl 😳😳😳😳 when i tell you i FLIPPED when i got the request i đŸ€žâ€â™€ïžđŸ€žâ€â™€ïžđŸ€žâ€â™€ïž thank you so much for the request anon! đŸ„°đŸŒ· i hope you liked this :)
this was so good omfg đŸ˜© idk why i think wire is a fucking baddie AHAHJZSGHSHS think i saw a hot fanart of him đŸ„ș
if you guys are interested in requesting a fic for my 500 followers event, my askbox is open! click here for the main event post for more info :DD i have open slots for forced proximity, hurt to comfort, fantasy, he puts you in your place (smut), and modern aus!
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lamb-bait · 2 days ago
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good afternoon,
today, im going to be honest. this will probably be my last post on here for awhile, if not forever. the last few days I've been thinking and genuinely, I've been degrading from the inside. life has been pathetically busy and tumblr doesn't seem to spark like it used to. earlier, someone asked if there was a muse I think of when I write my posts, I joked and said obviously it's 'you', but I'm sorry my little lambs, I was lying.
there was one person that hasn't left my mind, ever since I abandoned them, purely to comfort my selfish feelings. the fear of losing them (and the emotional conflict I might feel) was greater than my strength to let them know my current weak state and attempt to push forward. as if I'd be even more indebted to them if I continued to pour my heart out. as you can see, even though I deleted all our conversations, blocked them, and tried desperately to push forward, I'm still stuck in the past. and this is something I don't think I'll be able to forget for the rest of my pathetic existence. though, I doubt I'll make it past thirty.
so, some advice for you as I drift away from this place and dig myself a deeper hole of despair and loneliness. if you fall in love with someone, let them know how desperately you love them. if you're scared of them letting go of you, hold on until you're suffocating them with your affection. If you fear that you're not good enough for them, well fuck, I'm right there with you. but as painful as this is going to sound, you don't get to decide who's good for them, that's their choice. If only I'd have listened.
I attempted to start my cute little color coding, but I'm too mentally fatigued to continue.
i love you kiddo. maybe in another life, we could share a cigarette together.
- With an empty heart and an overflowing mind,
Shepard
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thedreadvampy · 3 days ago
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At Meeting today we had a reflective post-worship meeting to share our feelings on Palestine and I was really sceptical tbh because as much as I believe in the Quaker approach to holding space I also. felt like having a sharing circle about your feelings about an actual genocide is unbelievably White Middle Class Leftist Woo?
except the thing is it turns out I really fucking needed that? like I don't think I've really found much space to just give voice to the fucking ANGER and HOPELESSNESS I feel about the fact that this is a thing being done on purpose, by a tiny group of people against the will of the vast majority, and because of that all our screaming and protesting and demanding and letter writing isn't doing shit but I don't have the personal wherewithal to be the kind of guy who risks years in prison to shut down an arms factory because I'm, you know. A coward. And that would make me a liability. and the fucking despair I'm having lately at how much is horrifically inhumanly fucked in our world, ON PURPOSE, and BY DESIGN, and how powerless it feels in the face of that. the grief is too big to feel and the anger has nowhere to go. and in the knowledge that demonstrative action is going to go ignored because politicians have made the active choice to continue this no matter what the people want, everything just starts to feel petty and performative and egotistical instead of meaningful, and I am struggling more and more to hold the faith that anything I do matters. like I know, in my heart and mind, that things m fighting for justice feels hopeless for years or decades or generations and it feels like nothing will change until it does, and it's on us to keep fighting for that. despair is a luxury we can't afford. But still. you can break yourself on this wall without making a dent and it's because this isn't Just Happening, specific people are making specific choices, on purpose and with the full knowledge of what they're doing, and what do you do with that????
anyway I cried a Lot and it was uhhhh it felt good to have done. it felt good to hold and be held by other people in similar places. is it embarrassingly sentimental and privileged to have a sharing circle about a genocide? yeah maybe but unfortunately there might be something to it, also.
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yaoireview · 3 days ago
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review sockathan ! đŸ‘»đŸ‘»đŸ‘»
woah how'd you make that green
SOCKATHAN YAOI REVIEW
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Disclaimer: This will contain spoilers (kind of) for Welcome to Hell 2 Part 1 and Welcome to Hell. You should probably go watch that. Its made by Erica Wester and its PRETTY cool.)
My Yaoi Entrepreneurs, I'll be blunt with you. I know we've ALL seen gay people, maybe in the streets, maybe at the park. You might even see one in your home now, so lets be honest with ourselves. Sock is DEFINITELY gay, bisexual at LEAST.
The OTHER one on the other hand.. its a little bit harder to say.. I'll probably find something though..
Lets make one thing clear, when I say Yaoi in this review. I don't mean ANYTHING inappropriate. Its just my special way of saying gay people.. I'm kinda magical in that sense.
Lets just get the first one done and over with a simple section I like to call:
EVIDENCE 1: SOCK IN GENERAL
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okay so FIRST of all the FIRST time we see sock, they call Jonathan "hot stuff" while being in a fridge. I'm not sure about you but that's love if I ever saw it.
After that they introduce you to Sock killing his parents. One key point after another. If Sock being gay wasn't important, then WHY was it shown BEFORE telling us Sock's (other) main trait. Checkmate liberals.
Sock would then get the report from Mephistopheles, and you COULD say its just because the camera zoomed in, but its literally the most light ever seen in Sock's eyes.
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And then Sock went on to ruin Jonathan's day, making him look crazy, and Jonathan SOMEHOW got blamed for knocking down that desk, I swear I think the teachers just hate him. I'm not sure about you but I certainly cant KNOCK over a desk thats right next to me.
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He was WRITING too.. would a guilty man of desk flipping WRITE?? NO!!
And not to mention that Sock made Jonathan look DUMB in front of the faceless brothers which was probably the closest time that Sock did their job right.
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Sock absolutely ruined it today.. but can you blame them? They're new to the job, give them some SLACK.
But the upcoming days, Sock was so whimsical.
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Yeah SURE. Sock is still telling Jonathan to kill himself, but they just don't want to get fired!!
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Not to mention the fact that they stared at Jonathan while they were taking a piss, but there's nothing odd about that.
And also near the end, Mephistopheles calls sock out on liking the guy, and Sock stutters. You just have to take my word for it.
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SOCK IN GENERAL 2 [PART 1]
If you saw Welcome to Hell 2 [Part 1], you already know what I'm gonna comment about. Sock went on to call Jonathan's mother, hot. They then went on to say "Must be where you got it from, huh? You definitely got her butt at least."
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When Jonathan goes on a walk and Sock follows them and says after Jonathan says he doesn't wanna be friends with them. (We'll get back to that)
"Oh wow, come to think of it, You don't really have ANYONE do YOU? What's that feel like? Knowing you're gonna die alone." to which Jonathan snaps back with "I dunno Sock, you tell me."
Now at first, this looks like a scene of ANTI SOCKATHAN propaganda, but think with me here, yaoiers. How would Jonathan know that Sock died alone??
I understand if he just guessed, since sock DOES look like someone who would die alone, or he just said whatever comeback that came to his head but if not, Sock ALREADY told Jonathan about their past life.
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If what I KNOW is true, Sock VENTED to Jonathan about their life before they died in LESS than a week, since Sock just now sees Jonathan's mother in the first part, and due to a comment made by the creator.
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Sock REALLY trusts this guy, maybe Mephistopheles didn't want to hear them vent, but maybe its JUST because Sock wanted Jonathan to do the same. but they probably didn't.
And then near the end, Sock says to Jonathan when he snatched his employee manual
"Jonathan, if something happens to you-"
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Actually, I think this is pretty weak evidence but I thought I'd include it, since a teacher would say the same thing if a kindergartener was up on a high shelf.
That segment was PRETTY lengthy, but I PROMISE you, the others will be shorter, I just.. didn't expect there to be so much for Sock...
EVIDENCE 2: SOCK SUCKS AT THEIR JOB.
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Jonathan was DEAD ON when they told Sock that they suck at their job. And quite honestly.. I could've done it better.. I could've got Jonathan to kill himself (theoretically) on the FIRST day, and if you wouldn't use my strategy, I promise you that there's probably several other you could use for the teenager that you want them to kill themselves at home.
STEP 1: GRAB A WEAPON
Since Sock is seen to be able to flip over a desk and they're able to HOLD Jonathan's journal (Shock or not), I should THEORITCALLY be able to grab a weapon, now for this strategy, I suggest you pick a nonlethal option, only to have a lethal option around, for this example, I will be using a sledgehammer.
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After swinging that at the noggin, Jonathan would drop unconscious, probably with brain damage (that don't matter though)
STEP 2: POSSESS THE TEENAGER
Now it MAY not be like this in w2h, but Mephistopheles was able to possess Jonathan when he was DEAD (Probably), so It should hopefully work when they're out of consciousness.
STEP 3: KILL YOURSELF.
Alright now I KNOW that sounds bad.. but it wouldn't be MY hands to kill him. Grab the nearby lethal and SHOOT. THAT. TEENAGER!! Your boss may not agree with the logistics of this, but you get the job done.
This simulation was to PROVE that Sock atleast CARES a bit about Jonathan to want to get to know him. and to not kill him on the spot. Now if It was the other way around.. I'm not exactly sure..
EVIDENCE 3: JONATHAN KINDA HATES SOCK
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(he looks like hes standing up to a school bully)
At the beginning of Welcome to Hell, hes clearly annoyed and STILL is annoyed by some of Sock's actions by the end, but he atleast isn't mad enough to NOT act like he could put up with Sock. I think the closest thing to gayness from Jonathan was when he moved the backpack for Sock to sit down.
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In Welcome to Hell 2, he IS PISSED at this guy, and honestly, if Sock kept on knocking down those desks, i CANT blame him..
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Maybe Sock kinda ruined the vibe when they expressed their love for Jonathan's mother, its hard to say really..
Jonathan makes this very clear that he DOESN'T even wanna be Sock's friend, I mean HAVE YOU HEARD THE THEME SONG?
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SUMMARY:
Sock wasn't able to win Jonathan's heart, making him tonight's biggest loser.
YAOI: 6.5/10
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vodika-vibes · 2 days ago
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Hi Vodika! I think you might know why I'm here..
Fox and reader, a camping trip with a fire pit and shimmersilk.. I would very much like to request a NSFW sequel to this most satisfying story ❀
Please take your time, I don't mind waiting patiently for Mr Fox (and most importantly: enjoy writing it) <3
Shimmersilk Nights
Summary: Fox might not be as surprised about your surprise as you would prefer, but that doesn’t mean he’s not getting it anyway.
Pairing: Commander Fox x F!Reader
Word Count: 1746
Warnings: Smut, but there's nothing super kinky here
A/N: This isn't the smuttiest thing I've ever written, but I think I like it.I hope you do too.
Click HERE to be added to my taglist
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This is your favorite way to see Fox. Relaxed and peaceful, the stress lines on his face fade away until you can’t see them, until he looks his age, rather than much older. 
His arm is snug around your waist as he reads a detective novel. He likes to joke that this author is his favorite because the main character reminds him of you, and her love interest reminds him of himself.
You think he’s being ridiculous. But, so long as he’s happy, he could be reading trashy romance novels for all you care.
You shift so that you’re able to press your face against his chest. He smells like the campfire, the lounge must be too close to the firepit, but you don’t mind. Under the scent of smoke is a scent that’s just Fox, after all.
Fox shifts under you, and you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head, “What are you doing, cyar’ika?”
You turn your head so you can see his face, “Thinkin’.”
He smiles at you, his eyes crinkling at the corner, “What about?”
Again, you shift position, but this time you fold one of your arms on his chest, before reaching up and tapping the tip of his nose, “It’s a secret~”
He closes his book and sets it to the side, focusing his attention on you completely. “What kind of secret?”
You shift up his body so that you’re lips are hovering over his, a wide grin on your face, “The secret kind.”
“Babe.”
You giggle and kiss his cheek quickly, “Let me up, please.”
He immediately releases you, and settles back on the lounge, “You’re coming back, right?”
“That’s a secret too,” You reply as you roll off of him and head into the camper. You both know where you’re going, and what you’re going to do. It’s nice of him to, at least, pretend that he doesn’t know what’s happening at least.
You move to where you stored the new set of lingerie you bought for today specifically, and pull it out of the box. It is, quite possibly, the most expensive thing you’ve ever owned in your life. 
The set is white and red and made of the finest, and most delicate, shimmersilk you’ve ever felt in your life. And, as you pull it on and examine yourself in the mirror, you’ve never felt prettier in your life.
You know Fox will feel the same way.
You dig through your make-up bag and apply just a dusting of make-up, to enhance rather than hide, and hang the simple pendant Fox gave you after you started dating around your neck, and then take a step back.
Perfect.
The simple red stone hangs just above your collarbone, and the lingerie sits smoothly against your skin, the material so light-weight that you can barely feel it at all. You do have a pair of red heels, the same shade of red as the threading on the lingerie, but you quickly decide against it.
Heels are sexy, yes. Broken ankles are much less so.
Next time, at home or in a hotel.
Finally ready, you slip out of the bedroom, and to the door of the camper. Fox is reading his book again, and you smother your laughter as you open the door and step onto the rug at the foot of the stairs, “That must be a really good book.” You tease lightly. 
He glances at you, pauses, and then drops his book to the side. “Well now, look at you.”
You meander over to the foot of the lounge, and then spin, “What do you think?”
“I think I’m the luckiest asshole in the galaxy,” He slides so that he’s sitting at the foot of the lounge chair and settles his hands low on your hips. Fox leans in and presses a light kiss on your sternum, “All of this for me?”
“Well, there’s no one else here,” You tease, your hands coming up to settle in his curls, and you brush a loose curl off his forehead, “You really like it?”
His dark gaze meets yours, “I like you, everything else is window dressing.”
“You’re a sap,” You whisper to him.
“Don’t tell my brothers, I have a reputation to keep.” Slowly, carefully almost, he guides you so you’re straddling him and he pulls you into a deep kiss.
The plan, your plan really, had been to tease him until he can’t stand it anymore. Unfortunately for you, Fox has plans of his own, and they don’t have anything to do with you driving him insane.
Smoothly, as if he planned it out, he flips the pair of you so you’re sprawled out on the lounge, your legs hooked around his waist and blinking up at him in surprise. 
“There. This is a good look for you,” Fox teases as he drags his hands up your sides and then across your breasts.
“I had a plan,” You say, trying to whine at him, though your words come out kind of breathy as he flicks his thumbs over your nipples.
“Oh?” He leans in and wraps his lips around a nipple through the material of the lingerie. It feels amazing, but the cloth keeps you from feeling him completely. “As it happens, so do I.”
He leans back on his heels so he’s able to look you over, a tiny smirk crossing his handsome face as he takes you in completely.
“You have a plan?” You prompt as you slide your hands under the hem of his shirt so you’re able to touch him properly. 
“Mm,” He pulls his shirt off and tosses it to the side, so you can explore him more freely, “Well, I have several plans, actually. Depending on you.”
You absently trace a tattoo that sits low on his stomach and wait for him to continue.
“If you’re going to be a brat for me, cyare, then I have a plan for that. But if you’re going to be all pretty and pliable for me,” He leans down so he’s able to kiss down your throat, nipping roughly enough that you whimper, and tighten your legs around his waist. You can feel his erection pressing against you, and it’s not nearly enough. 
He chuckles against your throat and grinds against you, “If you’re going to be all pretty and pliable for me,” Fox repeats, “Then I have a much more fun plan.”
Your mouth goes dry, “I can be good,” You reply, immediately.
“Oh, I know you can.” He leans up to grab a pillow and eases it under your head, “And because you’re being such a good girl, that’s what I’m going to do.”
You half sit up so you’re able to unfasten your bra, but his gentle hands stop you. “Oh no, cyar’ika. All of this,” He gestures to the lingerie, “Stays on.” You blink at him but then lay back again.
You trust him, after all.
“Good girl,” The praise shoots electricity through your entire body, and you whine low in the back of your throat, pulling a chuckle from him. He shifts you up the lounge a little further, effortlessly pulling your legs from around his waist so he’s able to position you how he wants.
“Cyar’ika, you’re already so wet,” His voice is light and teasing, but you don’t have the chance to respond as he moves your panties to the side and presses his thumb against your clit, pulling a gasping moan from your lips. 
Fox can play your body like an expert, and you know, from experience, that he can push you to an orgasm in a matter of minutes if, and when, he’s so inclined. 
But that, clearly, isn’t what he wants tonight. As he expertly brings you right to the edge using nothing but his thumb on your clit, and then he stops, pulling his hand away, and instead leans in so he can lavish your body with heavy kisses and bites.
As soon as you not teetering on the edge of your orgasm again, his fingers go back to your pussy, so he’s able to coax you right back to the edge again. 
“F-Fox—” This time, though, you whine his name and reach out for him, wanting him closer than he is.
“What’s wrong, cyare?” He coos.
“Need more,” You pout up at him, “Need you.”
“You have me,” He eases two fingers inside you, and you gasp as his fingers hit that spot deep inside you, a spot that you can never quite reach on your own, and your hips jerk in response.
“S’not enough,” You manage to whine out.
“Greedy,” He sounds delighted though.
“‘M allowed. You said.”
Fox grins at you and pulls his fingers out of you, making you whine even more. He leans in and kisses you, wiping his fingers on your chest. “I did say that, didn’t I?” He breathes against your lips, “Tell me what you need, cyare.”
“You.”
“Be more specific.”
You whine and bump your nose against his, “I need you to fuck me,” 
“As you wish,” Fox replies, leaning in to kiss you one more time, before he pulls back to pull the rest of his clothes off. 
He’s moving so swiftly that you only catch a glimpse of cock, deliciously hard and leaking pre-cum, and then you’re not thinking about much else, as he rubs himself against you, and teasingly nudges your clit with the head of his cock.
You think, for a moment, that he’s still teasing you. But before you can scold him for it, he slowly presses his cock deep inside you. Taking his time so you can feel every inch of his cock as he enters you.
As soon as he’s completely bottomed out he stops so he’s able to kiss you. You hook your legs around his waist again, to hold him close, and he presses his forehead against yours.
A look of mischief crosses his face.
“Fox?”
“I wonder,” He murmurs, “How many times can I make you cum tonight before you have to use your safeword.”
For a moment, you’re surprised, but then you grin, “I think we should find out. For science.”
Fox laughs, a bright and boyish sound that makes you fall in love with him all over again, “Well, who am I to deny science?” He asks, a wide grin on his face as he slowly rolls his hips.
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ladylokianna · 3 days ago
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Some quiet moments
Partially based on my own prompt here and written after this post i casually read today. Hope you enjoy a fluffier and softer Aemond (though i love smut Aemond, i'm totally uncapable of writing something smut).
Warnings: no warnings, just pure fluff.
Pairing: i don't like to write Y/N, so is an Aemond x reader (a nameless wife)
English is not my first language and i am constantly trying to improve, so i apologise for any mistakes.
Also not so good to give a good title, sorry XD
***
You are so busy braiding the flowers the girls brought to you now and then that you did not notice Aemond until the very last moment, when you feel him placing something warm on you –his coat, you noticed shortly afterwards– and his hands carefully place it on your shoulders, lifting the collar to protect your neck, taking care not to crease the flower garland that Jaehaera or one of your daughters had carefully arranged on your hair, loosely braided.
"I knew i'd find you here." Aemond greets you in his usual calm voice, sitting by your side. "You might catch cold, love, summer is still far away."
"Hi darling. I was starting to get a bit chilly, actually, but when the girls and i went out, the sun was still bright and i didn't think about wearing something warmer." you answer with a big smile, interrupting what you were doing to take and hold his hand. "And what about you? I can see you're tired."
He told you about his day, spent travelling around the realm between meetings and state matters.
"Then you should reach the Council, they must be waiting for you." you reason.
"They can wait." he reply, encircling your shoulders with his arm and holding you close to him. In your lap, under the flowers you are weaving, Aemond noticed one of his books. "How was your day?"
"It was less interesting than yours, i'm afraid. As always i tried with little success to read something in valyrian, i had lunch with Alicent and spent some time embroidering with Helaena and... just an hour ago, i was crowned queen of the garden." you say cheerfully. You then point to the blue flowers you carry in the lap. "However, i advise you to be careful, because the girls are looking for your favourite flowers with all the intentions of crowning you too."
"That's a risk i'm willing to take, if i can have you alone for a few minutes without having to share you with someone else." he chuckles, surrounding you in a tight hug and leaving many small kisses on your temple.
Feeling him so relaxed and calm during the day is a rare thing, accustomed as he is to always being on guard, always on the alert, ready to detect the slightest sign of danger to react accordingly. Suddenly you both heard the girls' laughter grow closer, a sign that they are returning from their search.
"...i was thinking that i would love to have another baby."
"You want to fill the Red Keep with children?" you ask, amused.
"Why not? After all, our son and i are blatantly outnumbered, and if we are not careful enough, we will certainly end up being overwhelmed by you girls."
You rub his leg affectionately, leaning the head back to get a better look at him.
"I will think about it." you reply. "But who knows, if tonight and... let's say maybe those to come, you would decide to read me something in valyrian, i might... you know... think better about it."
"Wait... is all what it takes? Some reading in high valyrian?"
"Maybe."
"Good enough for me, we have a deal."
You giggle, before he kiss you tenderly.
"I said maybe, Aem."
"You cannot recant now, a deal is a deal."
Jaehaera and her three little cousins, their arms laden with flowers, stood at some distance from the bench giggling between themselves at seeing you two embracing, until your middle daughter run towards you, eager to give her dad something she had picked up in the gardens.
"Can i bring it to Vhagar?" she asked, showing to Aemond a huge yellow flower.
"Vhagar is resting now, my love. We will bring it to her tomorrow. Keep it safe, will you?" promise Aemond. He look up, smiling lovingly at the other two daughters and Jaehaera as well. "Hello, my loves."
The youngest search her father's attention by placing both of her little hands on his face, trying to greet him in valyrian and giggling when Aemond, with a cheeky grin, pretend to nibble on her fingers.
"This one is for you instead." Jaehaera smiles at her uncle, taking the garland you had finished weaving.
She ask him to lean against the back of the bench, but Aemond, with a theatrical gesture, knelt before her, bowing the head as if during a real coronation, before she puts the garland on his head and untying the string that keep his hair neatly tied back, then began braiding it and showing your younger daughter how to do it properly.
If Criston Cole, sent by Aegon to find Aemond, is astonished to faced with that scene, he did not show it, but he take a few long moments to call him, perhaps undecided whether to interrupt that idyll or not.
"I really have to go now." sighs Aemond in a very low voice. "See you later."
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ominus-potato · 2 days ago
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Rebound search- cut scene
In the latest part of the pining Mario series, there was a scene I began to write where Mario and Mr Puzzles would go to the movie and accidentally hold hands and all that junk. However, I decided to cut it out because it wasted too much time and was mostly a whole load of nothing.
Anyway, here is that cut scene:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mario thought to himself for a moment before his face lit up with an idea. He turned to Puzzles.
"Hey! We don't-a need to base today on some silly romance movies. The people in them are clearly stupid and boring if those are the type of locations they meet their true love." He gestured to the notepad for emphasis, "We should pick somewhere entirely new! Somewhere that no silly romance character has ever met their love interest."
Mr Puzzles looked at Mario with curiosity; a confused smile appearing on his screen.
"Okay then... did you have anywhere in mind?" He asked.
Mario froze. His mind went blank and his face buffering as he tried to think of at least ONE place they could go to meet someone.
Meeting someone. That was the goal of this whole thing wasn't it? Mario knew this and he wasn't intending on skewing from Mr Puzzles' plan; but so far, his feelings for the TV hadn't changed in the slightest. If anything, they had only grown stronger! Going shopping, having lunch, spending time alone-  just the two of them, talking, laughing... Mario was having an amazing time with Mr Puzzles.
The Italian turned to take in the sight of the TV standing in front of him, looking down at him expectantly.
"Well? Where do you suggest we go?" He asked again.
Mario snapped out of his thoughts and stammered.
"Uhh... w-we should go..."
The, already small, logical side of his mind desperately tried to think of a place where he could actually meet someone new. Somewhere that would allow him to finally move on from the TV and see him as nothing more than a friend. That would be the healthy thing for him to do.
Unfortunately, Mario was anything BUT healthy.
He was just too tempted by the prospect of him and Puzzles spending more time together! Selfish as it may be, he didn't want to move on. At least, not right now. Mario just wanted to enjoy what little time he had alone with Mr Puzzles. Even if it was just platonic.
"W-we should go to the movie theatre!!" Mario declared with false confidence.
Mr Puzzles gave him an odd look, tilting his head slightly as he stared at the Italian, dumbfounded.
"Why would we go there? The whole point of a movie theatre is to sit in silence and not talk to anyone. That doesn't seem like a great place to meet someone."
Mario looked around nervously as he tried to come up with some sort of half-assed explanation as to why the movie theatre was actually a great place for meeting new people!
"Well, err- Mario thinks the movies will be a good place to go because... Mario really likes TV! We already know this and the movie theatre is really just one big TV screen that everyone watches! Plus, there's food which Mario also likes so that means that whoever is at the movie theatre has lots-a in common with Mario!"
Mario gave Puzzles a nervous smile, hoping that he wouldn't detect the uncertainty in his tone or notice the sweat beading at his forehead.
Puzzles' eyes narrowed as he looked down at the shorter man, seemingly trying to read his expression. A deafening silence fell over them before eventually, Mr Puzzles spoke up.
"Alright then..." he said cautiously.
Mario's face lit up and without thinking, he grabbed Mr Puzzles' hand and began to lead him to the movies.
Only once they had arrived did Mario properly register the fact that he and Puzzles had their fingers intertwined. He hurriedly let go, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he looked away, a light blush on his cheeks.
Once he had calmed down Mario cleared his throat, "Uh... so what movie would you like to see?" He asked, smiling nervously at the taller man.
Puzzles glanced down at him and let out a huff.
"Mario, we're not here for the leisure of seeing a movie. Look around! See who's here on their own and what they're going to watch. Then simply buy us tickets to the same movie." Puzzles explained.
He looked around, trying to wean out anyone who was there alone. His attention darted to the digital ticket booth where a man had just began selecting a movie. Puzzles grinned, grabbing Mario by his shoulders and spinning him in the direction of the man.
"There! See? There's someone. Go over to him, talk to him, then get us tickets to the same movie. I'll get us some snacks."
Mario was unsure as he looked between Puzzles and the stranger he was supposed to approach. Was this really the best way to go about this?
"Mario doesn't think that-"
"Just trust me Mario. This is going to be your best chance at meeting someone at the movies." He crouched down to Mario's level, looking him in the eyes with that screen; and Mario thought it was just oh so pretty.
"You want to move on from your feelings don't you?"
The question was meant to be rhetorical. Mario knew this. But as he stared deeply into Mr Puzzles' hypnotic screen, he found himself getting lost in the bright colours and captivating shapes. The question repeated in his mind as he mindlessly gazed into Puzzles' digital eyes.
Does he want to move on?
Mario wasn't sure anymore. These feelings were so confusing. One minute he hated them, the next, he was eternally grateful to have them. One minute he wanted to do nothing but wallow in a ball of self pity, then he'd be enthusiastically following Puzzles to the ends of the earth. The love he held for the TV had been putting him through hell these past few months but now, being alone with the man, Mario had just forgotten about all of the pain and anguish he felt over him. And all he could think about was how good it felt to be in his presence.
"Well I'm afraid this is going to be your best chance of moving on."
Puzzles voice snapped Mario out of his daydream and brought him back to reality. He blinked, slightly dazed before sighing.
"Okay..." he said.
Mr Puzzles smiled and stood up, making his way to the snacks whilst Mario watched him leave. He eyes remained fixed if the TV man for just a moment before he turned around to go and buy their tickets.
As Mario approached the digital ticket booth, he saw that the man Mr Puzzles had spotted earlier was finishing off his purchase. Mario hopped over his shoulder to get a peek at which movie he was here to see.
Lady and the Tramp
Mario mentally scoffed. Of course. Rerun day. Every so often, the cinema reran old movies decades after they first aired. It was stupid in Mario's opinion but what did he know?
Mario pushed aside his opinions and instead mentally prepared himself to talk to the man in front of him. This is what Puzzles asked him to do after all.
The Italian took a deep breath and was about to make conversation with the stranger before he was suddenly met with an overpowering stench. Mario shut his mouth instantly and scrunched his face in displeasure.
This guy STANK!
My god did he even know what a shower was??? Mario probably wasn't one to judge but that didn't stop him. There was no way he was going to talk to this stinky loser.
Eventually, the guy left and Mario bought two tickets for Lady and the Tramp. Even if he wasn't planning on talking to that guy, the movie could be pretty good! He just needed to make sure he got seats that were far away from him.
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an-annyeoing-writer · 2 days ago
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idol!Baekhyun x fan!Reader: truth be told.
Word count: 2382
Date of release: 11th November, 2024
Genre: angst, slice of life, half ounce of a fluff, established relationships, mentions of break up and dysfunctional relationships, way too much emotional yapping as for barely any plot.
I'm as surprised as y'all that I wrote something like this. You know, no vampires, no action, no one's actively dying? It's very much not my kind of writing, but I was feeling very emotional at the time. Just don't get used to it.
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„It’s not good for you. I don’t think it’s good for me. It’s not healthy for either of us.”
He felt as if the knife you were cutting vegetables with cut right through his heart as well. You deliberately distracted yourself with the activity while he stood nearby, staring at you blankly, but not knowing how to respond.
In the recent weeks, he felt the two of you falling apart. It was like an avalanche that started with a small rock which he didn’t notice at the time, but which escalated into a disaster. Talking less, avoiding meeting up, and until today – the day you announced, as gently as you could, that you wanted to move out and live on your own. You said that it’s just because you want to become more independent, that you shouldn’t rely on him this much. But what will his apartment feel like without you? Your presence here, doing small things such as cutting vegetables, became a staple part of his life.
“Are you still talking about living together? Or about
 us?”
Your movements were more frantic than he knew you for. With one a bit too sudden of a motion, the blade cut through the skin of your finger, and you let out a low murmur to cover up the hiss of pain, putting the finger to your lip in mild annoyance. It was more than clear that the cut was not the only reason behind your frustration.
Baekhyun didn’t move.
In any other situation, he would react – mock you a bit for being clumsy while being the first one to bring the first aid kid, maybe pretend to be a vampire struck by the scent of your blood, maybe even panic a little in this cute, puppy-like way if he felt that the amount of blood is greater than acceptable.
But now he didn’t, and it sparked a bit of hurt in you as well, but also brought your attention to the fact that maybe dismissing things and try to make them gentle only worsened the pain that would eventually come. The anxiety of the future that you exposed him to was not like the boil-the-frog that you planned to perform. You wanted to avoid confrontation for as long as necessary, until things dropped naturally. You didn’t expect him to hold onto it.
“Can you be honest with me? Are you able to?” His tone started to show that he, too, was growing frustrated. “Tell me what’s going on. Did something happen? I’m sorry if I can’t catch the clues, but if you made it obvious, then I’m just plain stupid.”
“Nothing
 happened. And I’m sorry, I didn’t make it obvious. I didn’t know, how.”
He frowned ever so slightly, taking a step towards you. You backed against the kitchen counter, placing your hands on each side – your finger stung a little, but it was merely a scratch. The real wound was growing in your soul.
“If nothing happened, then why? Did you grow bored of me?”
“Of you?”
“Yeah. Please be honest with me. Just no more sweeting things up, alright?”
His tone was calm, but it lacked softness, it was almost business-like.
“I don’t know how anyone would get bored of you, Baekhyun” you admitted in a breathless whisper. You were starting to feel foolish, really. “And especially myself. That’s why I don’t think I can take it. I don’t think it’s fair to you. But I’m also not fair to myself. You just mean
 too much to me.”
 “Too much?” The frown of the man’s face only deepened. “Why is something telling me I should not feel flattered?” A bit of frustration was slipping into his own tone as well.
You let out a deep sigh.
“I started off as your fan, Baekhyun. I thought that with time, it’ll be more
 normal. That you’ll feel like a normal person. But somehow it’s not like that. Somehow
 it feels like my life is even more about you than it was before. I feel like a creep. Like I’m using you to fulfill a fantasy.”
“Are you?”
“No!” You denied right away, but your voice faltered. “I
 don’t know.” You crossed your arms on your chest, fixating your gaze somewhere down below.
To your surprise, Baekhyun let out a breathy laugh. The laughter didn’t feel light and cheerful, like his usual ones – it was heavied with worry, with some sort of underlying agony.
“Okay, let’s talk about this. We need to talk about this.”
His hand reached towards you and he pulled you by your arm, almost throwing you off balance when he pulled you towards the living room, snatching a paper towel on his way and putting it into your still bleeding hand. “You’re right. Do you think I didn’t consider it? That this wouldn’t work out? That it would feel fake? Heck, I talked to so many friends about it, and most of them said it’s not a good idea. But you know what?” He pushed you onto the couch and sat himself on the stool, bringing it close so that your knees almost touched – if only you let yourself relax, they would rest against each other naturally, but you were stiff and trying to almost shrink within yourself. “You know what? I’ve known you for a year. And I could always trust you. You’ve had so many chances to take advantage of me, and you didn’t. So I don’t want to think about how you could – potentially – hurt me. But we need to talk about the other part.”
“What do you mean? Isn’t it obvious that
”
“No, no. You’re thinking about what it’s like, for me, to date a fan.” He didn’t even let you finish, but it was as if he could read your mind, already knowing your thought process. “I want you to be honest and tell me what it’s like to date an idol. Because you’re right, you could be using me. But you also said it’s not good for you. And you’re right, because I could be using you, too. So be honest with me and tell me if I ever hurt you.”
So many memories came flooding at once – not of pain, not at all, but of all things that could have led to one tragedy or another. Your whole relationship, like a videotape.
Sure, your relationship was not always perfect. Barely a year has passed. Not long enough to develop a deep understanding of each other, but long enough for many things to happen, to get to know each other at least.
Not all of it was beautiful. There were arguments, some of which almost ended in a breakup. But they made you stronger, that much was undeniable – with each and every single time you almost fell apart, it felt like you knew each other a bit better, knew what things not to do and not to say, but which helped to soothe the atmosphere and help you get back along.
You had one, most important rule in your relationship.
That no matter what happened between the two of you, you would play fair.
That one time he lied to you about being at work while he was not – that one hurt. When you found out he’s not at the office in the first place, you even thought he was cheating. Wouldn’t that be understandable to assume in such a situation? You had every chance to cause a scandal on spot. But you didn’t. You knew that pulling his whole career down because of your relationship wouldn’t be fair. No matter how much it hurt, it was completely out of the equation.
It turned out he was with his friends – he really wanted to go out, but felt bad for not giving you much attention these days. You felt almost pitiful, seeing him crumble in front of you, all worried that you will feel like he doesn’t want you, when he genuinely didn’t have that much time, and it was just one evening with friends. You smacked him in the head for feeling bad about spending time with friends. And he learned that he can be honest with you.
Another time, you were all excited upon his album release. Seeing him on the stage later on made you feel all kinds of things, the way he moved, all the effects, clothing, makeup – all putting emphasis on his heavenly physique, as if you were watching an angel dance. He came back home disheveled, with remains of makeup on his face, but as excited as you were. You would give all of you to him at that exact moment, more than he would ask for, more than you would feel confident to give any other time.
But it was still early in the relationship, and Baekhyun knew that you weren’t ready. That, drunk on him as you were, you could regret it later, even feel disgusted with giving yourself in this easily, that your gentle mind wouldn’t be able to trust yourself with your own body. So he indulged you with kisses here and there, and then gently tucked you into bed, making sure that it all went smoothly, that it didn’t feel anything like a rejection, but a gesture of utmost care.
It took a few more months before you opened yourself to him fully, and he never rushed or reminded you of how eager you were back then. He could have had it all back then, but he decided to wait. That’s how you learned he’s more selfless than you ever even aspired to be.
“You didn’t” you spoke after what felt like ages, to the point you wondered if you even responded to the correct question. “You didn’t
 hurt me. Did I ever hurt you?”
“No, you didn’t. You’re just hurting yourself all the time” he mentioned, jokingly motioning towards your hand, which you wiped hastily with the paper towel. “So if nothing bad happened, why the ifs? You realize it’s not going to stop if we just break up?” It was a rhetorical question, and you glanced up at him with a pout, feeling almost schooled by the way he talked. “You believe it’s a matter of just us, but, as much as it sounds ridiculous to say it, it’s all in your head. No matter who you’re with, you’re going to assume the worst. Won’t it be like that? Be honest with yourself.”
You crossed your arms again, feeling defiant for a moment, because his words were almost too much for your ego to take.
But there was some small part of you, somewhere at the edge of your consciousness, that not only knew that he’s correct, but also wanted it to be correct – because if it was just you, then you could learn to maybe keep those pessimistic parasites at bay, and
 you wouldn’t have to suffer the loss that, despite weeks of preparation, didn’t feel like any less of a torment and regret that would come, were you to finish things as you originally intended.
All the beliefs, all the dogmas, that you carefully built over the past weeks, were falling apart in front of your eyes, confronted with very simple logic on Baekhyun’s end. You almost felt stupid for letting things get this far without confronting him earlier. Weren’t you the one who demanded honesty? Wasn’t he the one who proved you can trust him with your vulnerability?
“I’m
 sorry.”
You felt yourself fall apart as well. Your body slumped down, relaxed knees rested against Baekhyun’s, and he put his hands on top of your thighs, as if in this exact moment, while knowing that he has you with him, he didn’t want to risk losing you again.
“Don’t be for feeling like that, things are never easy, now are they?” Here it was – the signature smile, the warm one that tore through the clouds of the darkest of your days, warm and welcoming. “But I am upset that you held it from me for so long” he whined. With the whine, he finally moved from the stool and onto the couch next to you. His arms shamelessly snuck around you, engulfing you in the close embrace that you knew so well, felt so good within. Partially pulling you into him, and partially leaning into the back of your shoulder, Baekhyun released a long sigh against the skin of your back, warm air slipping underneath your blouse – you missed it. You almost didn’t realize how distant the two of you became, and how long has it been since you felt his body against yours. But now, despite all of that, it felt good, it felt right. As if your souls have never detached from each other.
Maybe there was some form of destiny between the two of you; maybe it was not just a parasocial relationship that evolved into something that could turn dysfunctional so, so easily – maybe it was written in the stars that one way or another, the two of you would find each other, and it just so happened that you spotted him first, from afar, slowly making your way.
How else would the two of you find each other, after all?
Maybe you learned something this time, too. Maybe it wasn’t much, just the beginning of a stronger, even more intimate bond that would last years and years, and light years, and through all your reincarnations, with some of them as pitiful as they could be. Maybe it was just an accident that this time you were in such a position – in another life, would you be a princess, and he be a peasant?
But these were only some other ifs, fun to think about, but not worth spilling your heart over.
In this life, in this universe, you were his, and he was yours. And everything else was just more or less accidental circumstances that brought you closer together.
Only at the back of your head, you wondered if one day, the tale of hopes and stars would fall, and that dream would turn into a nightmare, fueled by your lives’ imbalance and selfishness that neither of you knew in each other.
Maybe you just didn’t have to think about it just yet.
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kinardsevan · 2 days ago
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yesterday i wrote a whole thing out that i was going to post on my actual writing blog about the effects on 911 and why this break-up has hurt so much. it felt overly needy and maudlin though, and so i kind-of made the decision to leave it in notes.
even so, there was a line in there that i have referenced back to, and it's this:
"And the thing is, this isn’t some cliche where I tell you 911 saved my life, because it didn’t. The people who picked me up and raised me back up are who saved me. 911, Evan/Buck, and Tommy made my life make sense. It made things click. It made me feel seen."
I still have a lot of feelings about everything in relation to it all, but that for me, was the core of why this loss has been so damaging. Further, I think it's why so many others in our fandom are so broken right now. I know there are others commenting here about the importance of representation and people's continued ability to fumble and fuck it up. Art, whether it be music, movies, television, painting, writing, photography, etc., gives our lives meaning. giving art to a marginalized community in support of them is even more important. for six beautiful months, we were given that with this show in a new way. it will never be lost on me that we get judged as a group for "wanting the two white men together" when for me, it's not their skin tone or genealogy. it's their age, their social dynamic, their masculinity. they had Tommy say it perfectly in 705 when he said that they were both men in a "macho line of work". We were granted two people who were likely not to have people consider them as an option together, and it fucking worked. The story fit, the chemistry was there, the train was going down the track. right now it feels as derailed as the train in 318 was.
i truly don't know what happens next. i woke up feeling better today, but there's no guarantee on how things move forward. (right now i just feel like i'm rambling so i'm gonna shut up because i really just wanted to share that quote)
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icewindandboringhorror · 3 months ago
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I made a few new wax seal stamps out of clay (like the ones I did for my worldbuilding stuff forever ago), this time just of random symbols that I thought might look good done in the style of painting over the raised part of the wax or etc. :0c Some of them aren't carved deep enough to really show up that well, but overall they worked okay for being clay lol
#wax seal#crafts#wax stamp#stationery#Window one is kind of stinky.. I was imagining like a swirly night sky sort of looking thing so it would be a surreal contrast of a night#sky with a window in the middle that shows a daytime sky - but the silver and purple wax kind of mixed too much together#with the black and it just looks very plain black and not all that starry or anything hjbhj.. Of course the eye is probably my favorite#since all I ever do is draw eyes and still like eye imagery for some reason. The four leaf clover is very lumpy and skrunkty but also it wa#the smallest in size out of all of them so was easier to do multiple stamps of just to try it out.#The heart with eyes wax is actually more swirly in person. I wanted it to be a mix of light pink and red and white. and the wax#did kind of all blend together but in person you can definitely see MORE of the intentional swirlyness. in this it just looks plain pink.#I was going to do one eye in the heart but it looked weird. but now two seems too plain. i could have done 3?? in a pattern.. hmm#alas. I wish I could make actual metal ones. With the clay i have to paint them in a thin layer of olive oil before stamping because#otherwise the wax just kind of gets stuck in the grooves of the clay and then you can't pull it up. Very wacky ''unprofessional'' looking#set up where I'm hot gluing circles of sculpey clay to short stumps of a wooden dowel that I sawed apart with a serrated bread knife#and then using an old paintbrush to put olive oil on them whilst holding a spoon over a yankee candle flame hjbjh#ANYWAY.. I think if I were middle class/rich/etc. this would be one of the main things in my crafting room is like.. SO many colors#of wax. and all different custom made stamps designed by me. which could be much more elaborate in actual metal.. muahaha.... >:)c#RHGghhh... I actually don't want to talk much about it since (this is probably just my Obsessed With My Own World Artist Delusions) I#think I have a really cool idea for a game that could genuinely be successful if i ever get to make it and I don't want to give#everything away and spoil the whole plot/concept in hopes that one day I can actually do it - BUT - a game that I'd like to make after the#visual novel I'm making now has partially to do with the main character working as a sort of writer/scribe/artist assistant in an elven#city (set in my world/with my worldbuilding species and versions of elves and etc) and I was thinking of maybe incorporating#somehow being able to collect little writing type items like these like.. you can get different wax seal patterns or pens or etc. when I do#stuff like this in Real Life it always makes me think of that like.. ouh... this is good research.. what it shall be like to be a littol#elf collecting wax seals and such.. indeed... GRR i need to be finished with my current game NOWWW... i MUST work on other#thingss... aughh... ANYWAY.. yay. accomplishment to do One Single Thing other than Sit In The Summer Heat And Rot#though also hilarious as this was the first cool-ish day that was below 80F in a while hgvh#waking up like 'wow.. i actually feel okay today?? like I could do things?? how mysterious.. I wonder why..?? :0'' Its The Weather You Fool#Tis Always The Weather
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