#and i didn’t know about the song itself before playing the first game

[goldensunset]

AGHHHH. the use of ‘embracing one’s duty’ again. SOOOOO good. this is n’s theme, to me- it’s him as a hero. in the first game maybe he was the misguided antagonist you had to stop but even so he fully believed he was doing something good. and this theme reflects that. now it’s used again and it’s fully him, having come into his own… there’s no better song they could’ve possibly picked for his triumphant return. plus it only played in one tiny area last time so now they’re doing it justice!!!!

[seasaltrasp]

Cigarettes

a cho sang woo fic | post-squidgame au

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

inspired by this cas song + a dream i had

1.5k words, dbf!cho sang woo x f!reader

warnings: age gap, smoking, mentions of lighters

note: first time writing a fic ! i genuinely could not explain to you what this is, happy reading <3

⋆ ⋆ ---––——––------––——––------––——––--- ⋆ ⋆

The night wrapped itself around the house like a thick velvet blanket, cool and heavy, muffling the world outside. The warmth from inside spilled out in golden streams through the windows, making the dark feel even more intimate, more distant. The house stood like an oasis in the midst of the night, quiet but alive with the weight of the evening’s conversation.

Inside, the table had been cleared, the dishes stacked in the sink with care. The remnants of dinner lingering in the air—a warm hum of laughter, the soft clink of silverware against porcelain. He had come for dinner, a guest of my father, the man whose sharp wit and quiet intelligence had filled the room, a surprising contrast to the heavy weight he carried in his eyes.

Cho Sang Woo, my father’s business partner, was a man in his forties who seemed older than the years that clung to him. But when my father suggested he stay the night—too late to drive, too long a distance—he didn’t hesitate. “Stay in the guest room,” my father had said, waving a hand as if it were nothing, and so he did.

He had lingered on the couch, nursing his scotch, his hands resting on the edge of the glass like he was trying to find an anchor in a storm. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was only half-present, as though his mind was on an island somewhere far away.

When my parents retired to bed, he excused himself, saying he needed some air. It was a statement that didn’t quite ask for permission, but there was something about the way he spoke it—so softly, yet so firmly—that made it clear he didn’t need to explain himself.

I watched as he stepped outside, his form slipping into the night like a shadow, leaving me to the quiet lull of the house. I rinsed the dishes slowly, my thoughts lingering on the man who seemed to be running from something, his every movement weighed with invisible regret. When I finished, I stepped out onto the porch, the wood beneath my feet creaking in the stillness.

The air was cold and sweet, tinged with the scent of damp earth from the garden.

He was sitting on the steps leading up to the house, a shadow among shadows. He had come outside to escape something inside him. His figure was relaxed, almost languid, but there was a tension in him that I couldn’t quite place, a rigidity beneath the surface that suggested a history deeper than I could understand, but he masked it with the ease of someone used to playing a role.

I didn’t know what haunted him, but I could feel it in the way his gaze occasionally dipped into the distance, as if looking for something that no longer existed.

He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, fingers almost caressing the smooth cardboard, before cursing softly under his breath when he realized he’d forgotten his lighter. I almost smiled at how perfectly human the moment felt—despite everything, he was still just a man, fumbling for something as ordinary as a flame.

I lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching the way he exhaled in frustration. Then, as if on cue, he turned his head slightly, sensing me before I even made a sound.

“Got a lighter?”

His voice was low, amused, but with that edge of tiredness I was beginning to recognize.

Without a word, I reached into the pocket of my jacket, feeling the cool metal of my lighter against my fingers. When I pulled it out, it was an object of pure contrast to him. My lighter was small, almost dainty, a delicate pink glimmering thing that would have looked absurd in his calloused, heavy hands.

It flew through the air, almost weightless, and he caught it with the reflexes of someone who was used to playing more dangerous games than catch.

He stared at the lighter, as though trying to figure out its very existence. His brow furrowed, and then, he slowly lifted his gaze to mine.

“This… is your lighter?” he asked, a note of disbelief in his voice, but more so amusement.

I held his gaze, my lips twitching, and in a voice that felt more like a dare than a simple answer, I murmured, “It’s for birthday candles,” the ghost of a smile flitting across my lips. The words tasted like a lie wrapped in a joke.

For a moment, the tension in the air seemed to dissipate, and I could almost see the corner of his mouth twitch. His lips pressed into a hard line, fighting a smile. But it didn’t come. Instead, he shut his eyes with a long exhale, a weary chuckle escaping him as he nodded slightly, as though accepting that this ridiculous object was now the truth of the moment. “Right,” he muttered.

There was something about the way he fidgeted with the lighter—fingers circling it, almost testing its weight—that made the space between us feel impossibly intimate. Without a word, I slid onto the step opposite him, settling a foot’s distance away, my body angled just enough toward him to catch every small detail. The way he inhaled, the slight easing of his shoulders, the way his square rimmed glasses reflected the glow of the cigarette as he took his first drag. He looked, for a moment, like he had finally found the stillness he was searching for.

“You don’t smoke,” he said, not with curiosity, but with the knowing air of someone who was used to reading people like books.

“I do not,” I said, my voice soft, but deliberate.

A thought flickered through me, a quiet, reckless impulse. I glanced at the pack of cigarettes resting beside him. “Today’s as good a day as any,” I said, my fingers already stretching toward the box.

His eyes shifted to me, sharp and quick, and his hand immediately shot out, placing a finger on the pack, sliding it just out of reach with a quiet tut. His gaze met mine, his smile tight, a warning hidden behind the casual gesture.

I couldn’t help but give him a soft pout. My bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly, a playful protest hanging between us like a suspended breath. His gaze snapped away quicker than lightning, fixating on the trail of glistening pebbles leading towards the house. His eyes shifted down to his shoes, then to the blades of grass fluttering in the breeze, and then up at the stars, as if the world around him had suddenly become infinitely more interesting than me.

There was a strange hesitation in the air, like I’d caught him off guard, but I held my ground, watching the way he carefully avoided my gaze. The silence stretched, and something shifted in the way the night felt around us.

Reaching into the other pocket of my jacket, I pulled out my own pack of cigarettes, the plastic wrapper crinkling softly under my fingers. I could feel the beginnings of a grin forming, but I bit it back, my focus entirely on the subtle task at hand.

When he looked back at me, his eyes widened for the briefest moment, a slight chuckle escaping him as he almost choked on the smoke that had been hanging in his mouth. It slipped from his lips in violent tendrils, twisting and scattering through the air, as if his breath itself was suddenly off-kilter.

I watched him carefully, a flutter in my chest, as I picked up my lighter and flicked it open with a soft click. The flame danced to life, casting a glow on my face that seems to give me a depth he’d never seen before. It was almost too intimate, the way the light shifted and shaped my features.

I held the cigarette between my fingers, the tip glowing bright, and without glancing at him, I exhaled a steady stream of smoke into the air, inhaling it back in with the practiced precision of someone who’d done this far too many times. The words slipped out before I could stop them, low and soft, like a secret I couldn’t quite keep to myself.

“Surprised?”

He didn’t answer right away. The smoke curled between us, swirling in the cool night air as I watched the horizon, city lights shimmering in the distance.

Then, finally, he exhaled, his breath a soft laugh, but it was quiet, almost reverent.

“I should have known.”

[paishoeyeroh]

Bearer And The Bound

☰ Pairings: Sukuna x Reader, Slight Megumi x Reader

✧ Summary: When you stumble upon an ancient ring in an abandoned house, you unknowingly bind yourself to a cruel, powerful demon who thrives on torment. Trapped in a reluctant bond and forced to navigate a shared existence, Sukuna plots your downfall while you fight to survive his sadistic games. But as your fates entwine and secrets of Sukuna’s dark past begin to unravel, the lines between enemy and ally start to blur.

✧ Tags: True form Sukuna, Enemies to Lovers, Dark Romance, Demonic Bonds, Heavy Angst, Slow Burn, Sukuna is Bad at Feelings, Possessive Sukuna, Tension, Forced Proximity, Eventual Smut, College/University AU, More Tags To Be Added Later

✧ Status: Ongoing

✧ You can also read it on AO3

☰ CHAPTER TEN: Fracture

Chapter Summary: You push. Sukuna breaks.

☰ Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Sukuna is ignoring you.

At first, you don’t think too much of it, assuming he’s just quiet this morning. You hadn’t seen him since last night, after all, and you figured things might be a little… tense. But by the time you’re sitting through your first lecture, tapping your pen against your notebook in distraction, the truth becomes evident. He’s doing it on purpose.

No odd comments thrown your way, no dry observations, no flickering glances. He follows, because he has to, but he doesn’t acknowledge you once. It’s as though you don’t exist.

You try to push it aside, to focus on your professor’s voice, on the words you should be writing down, but it hurts. There’s no denying that.

There’s really only one explanation for his coldness. Last night. The way you were drawn to each other like magnets. And then, Megumi’s call. A reminder of the one person Sukuna seems to despise, though you’ve never been entirely sure why. He’s never liked Megumi, never tried to hide his distaste. Whatever his reasoning, you know the timing isn’t a coincidence. Whether it was the moment itself or the interruption that followed, it’s clearly bothering him.

And if it’s not? If there’s something else behind his silence? That thought is even more frustrating, because it means you still don’t know what’s going on inside his head at all.

Between classes, you catch sight of a familiar head of pink hair bobbing above the crowd. Yuji. At the sight of him, you remember your conversation with Megumi last night. You decide to call out his name.

He turns immediately, eyes lighting up the second he spots you. A wide grin spreads across his face, and before you can brace yourself, he’s bounding toward you, all but skipping across the hall.

“Hey!” he exclaims, wrapping you in a tight, familiar hug. The embrace is warm, effortless, and you sink into it without hesitation. A real, genuine smile tugs at your lips, one you didn’t have to force. His energy, so bubbly and contagious, fills your insides with light, chasing away the darkness you’ve been carrying all morning.

“I was just thinking about you! Nobara and Megumi are coming over later to hang out. Wanna come?” he tilts his head closer to you, his hand coming up to cup the side of his mouth as he lowers his voice, “there’ll be weed and snaaaacks,” he sing-songs, as if he’s trying to bribe you into coming.

You giggle at his antics, but you feel a tight pang in your stomach at the realization that he’s trying to convince you, probably because he thinks you don’t want to go.

“Alright, I’ll come. But I’m not smoking any of your weed. Not after what happened last time,” you say with a grimace. Yuji’s weed is always incredibly strong, and since you’re not much of a smoker anyway, it had too great of an effect on you the last time you tried it. You don’t even want to think about it. The head spinning. The paranoia. The crying. Not fun.

Yuji throws his head back as he laughs, squeezing his eyes shut tight, and you have no doubt the memory is playing back through his mind.

“Oh yeah! I forgot about that. Good times,” he mocks as his hand comes up to squeeze your shoulder. “Well, just come over whenever after class. Nobara and Megumi are catching a ride with me, so we’ll all be there.” He waves his hand at you as he walks away. “See ya later!”

You find yourself still smiling long after Yuji passes by you in the hallway, his bright and bubbly mood never failing to cheer you up. Tonight is going to be just what you need.

As long as Sukuna behaves with Megumi around.

Your smile immediately falters at the thought. You glance over at him, standing a few feet away leaned up against the lockers, looking in the opposite direction of you. You sigh as you head to your next class.

The rest of the school day goes by quickly, now that you have something to look forward to. As Sukuna continues to neglect your existence, you become more and more certain that he will keep up the charade at Yuji’s place. The thought almost comforts you. Maybe it’ll feel like old times again, before you ever put on that damned ring.

You make your way up to Yuji’s apartment, lightly rapping your knuckles against the door.

It flings open suddenly, and Yuji’s standing there in all his marijuana-induced glory, having clearly started smoking already. His eyes are half-lidded and red rimmed, and there’s a wide, goofy smile plastered across his face as he welcomes you.

“Heeey! Guys, I told you she’d come!” he shouts back to the others, before beckoning you inside. You take a step in, with Sukuna following behind you before Yuji closes the door.

The moment you step inside, the thick, unmistakable scent of weed hits your nostrils. It’s warm in here, cozy in that lazy, indulgent kind of way. The coffee table is a mess of half eaten snacks—open bags of chips, crumpled candy wrappers, a box of cookies that’s already looking dangerously empty. And right in the middle of it all, Yuji’s bong sits proudly, a testament to the night they’ve obviously already been having.

Megumi is sprawled out on the couch, legs spread wide, looking more relaxed than you’ve seen him in months. His head tips lazily toward you, and a slow, lopsided smile spreads across his lips as he greets you. You return it, unable to control the tugging at your lips at the sight of him so at ease for once.

Yuji flops down beside him with a satisfied sigh, stretching his arms over the back of the couch. Meanwhile, you settle onto the floor next to Nobara, who turns to you with a look of pure relief.

“Thank god you’re here. I can’t listen to those two anymore, especially Yuji. I think I can actually feel him making me dumber.”

“That’s not because of me, it’s the weed, idiot,” Yuji quips, ducking to avoid the pillow she throws at his head in response.

You laugh, shaking your head, as you turn back to Nobara. “How’d your date go the other night?”

She immediately rolls her eyes, reaching into her bag of chips and pulling out a handful. “Ugh, don’t even get me started,” she shoves the chips into her mouth, crunching loudly. “First, he didn’t open the door for me. Then, he tried to, like, order my own food for me? And to top it all off, he didn’t even compliment my outfit!” she crushes her bag of chips in her fist in anger.

“So, naturally, I ghosted his ass. I don’t have time for that kind of disrespect.”

“Naturally,” you snort, as Megumi coughs loudly, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke as he takes a rip of the bong. He reaches out, offering it to you.

“Want some?”

You turn to him, shaking your head.

“Nah, I’m good.” you decline, watching him pass the bong to Yuji. As you do, you notice something out of the corner of your eye. It’s Sukuna, and you watch as he rounds the corner, walking out of sight. Probably off to go pout somewhere by himself like a sullen child, you think as you inwardly roll your eyes. You have no intention of dealing with that for the remainder of the night. You quickly turn your head back to the group as Megumi speaks.

“Guys, can we put a different show on?” he asks, his voice strained, almost pleading. He swallows thickly, his gaze locked onto the screen like it’s about to crawl out and grab him. “This one’s freaking me out.”

Yuji squints at the screen, then back at Megumi.

“What? It’s just Pokémon, dude,” he says before he leans forward, studying Megumi like he’s the most fascinating thing in the room. “Are you good?”

Megumi stands shakily, his face pale, quickly making his way down the hall. “I’ll be back,” he weakly mutters over his shoulder.

Nobara and Yuji watch him for a moment, bursting out in simultaneous laughter after the bathroom door slams shut.

“He must’ve smoked too much. He’s probably in there freaking out,” Nobara manages to get out through her wheezes.

“It’s not his fault,” you defend, “Yuji’s weed is way too strong. Last time I smoked with you guys, I convinced myself I was in a simulation.”

You shudder as you recall the memory, but it only encourages another round of cackles from the two.

You watch them for a moment, trying to contain your own laughter. But after what feels like way too long for a regular trip to the bathroom, Megumi still hasn’t returned.

You glance over at Yuji and Nobara, but they’re engrossed in their own conversation. They’ve either forgotten about the situation entirely or are too high to care. Or both. You realize that you’re going to have to be the one to go check on the poor guy.

You stand up with a sigh, preemptively pouring a glass of water in the kitchen before heading down the hall.

As you pass by Yuji’s bedroom, the open door offers a glimpse inside. You glance in casually, only to stop dead in your tracks at what you see.

Sukuna is there.

Flat on his back, sprawled across Yuji’s bed, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. But something’s off.

His upper set of hands are thrown over his face, fingers digging into his forehead, covering his eyes like he’s trying to block out the world. The lower set of hands are clenched into fists, the muscles in his forearms tight, twitching with some kind of barely restrained force. You don’t even have to see his face to know he’s seething. Pure, unadulterated anguish radiates off of him, thick enough to suffocate the air in your lungs.

You watch him for a second, concern twisting deep in your gut. You’ve never seen him like this. Ever. Sukuna does not unravel. But here he is, unraveling right in front of you, completely unaware that he now has an audience.

Your lips part, the start of his name forming on your tongue, but before you can speak, his hands slide up, gripping into his hair with so much force it looks like he might tear it straight from his skull.

You stand in the doorway, mouth open, quickly snapping it closed when you notice the look on his face.

His eyes are squeezed shut, brows furrowed so tight it looks like it hurts. His lips part slightly as he exhales a slow, trembling breath, one that sounds like it’s been forced from the depths of his chest. His jaw clenches, the muscles flexing repeatedly, and his fingers tighten their grip on his hair almost desperately, as if he’s trying to anchor himself, to keep from coming apart entirely.

Your own breath stills in your throat. Every muscle in your body goes rigid, your mind struggling to catch up with what you’re seeing.

What the hell is going on?

A lump forms in your throat as you try to make sense of it. He’s been avoiding you all day, shutting you out since last night, and now… this? The distance, the cold silence, was all a cover, that much is clear now. But for what?

A part of you wants to go to him. To reach out, to touch him, to offer anything that might ease whatever war is raging inside of him. The urge claws at you, visceral and insistent, your arms aching to wrap around him in comfort.

But another part of you hesitates.

I shouldn’t be here.

You’re witnessing something raw, something unguarded and deeply, painfully human. A moment he never meant for anyone to see—least of all you. You’ve been toeing a dangerous line with Sukuna for a while now, but this… this feels like stepping over it. Stumbling over it, straight into a place you don’t belong.

You should leave.

The need to understand him, to help him, gnaws at you like a hunger, but he isn’t someone who needs things like that. Sukuna doesn’t want help. He is power. He is control.

But right now…

He looks like he has neither.

You catch yourself before you do something you’ll regret, clenching your hands around the glass of water you’d forgotten you were holding. Slowly, as to not make a sound, you creep past the doorway, heading over to the bathroom.

You press your ear against the door, listening for any sign of life from inside. Nothing. No movement, no shuffling. Only silence.

After a brief hesitation, you turn the knob and push the door open, peeking your head inside.

Megumi is sitting on the edge of the bathtub, his elbows braced against his knees, his head cradled in his hands. His shoulders rise and fall with slow, deliberate breaths, the kind you take when you’re trying to will your heartbeat to steady.

“Megumi?”

He lifts his head at the sound of your voice, blinking sluggishly. His eyes are glassy and unfocused, his pupils blown wide. It takes him a second to register you standing there, and when he does, his posture stiffens just a little. A ghost of a smile flickers across his lips—weak, sheepish—before he clears his throat.

“I’m alright, I just needed to chill in here for a second.”

You step into the bathroom, closing the door gently behind you before lowering yourself onto the floor beside him. The cool tiles press against your legs as you settle in close to his feet, holding out the glass.

“Here, drink this. I got you some water.”

Megumi takes it, fingers brushing against yours for a fleeting moment. He doesn’t look at you right away, instead staring down at the rim of the glass like it suddenly holds the secrets of the universe.

“Thanks,” he mutters, finally lifting it to his lips. He swallows a few careful sips before adding, “Sorry for ruining the vibe.”

You shake your head, lips twitching into a small smile as you reach out, rubbing his arm in comfort.

“Don’t worry about it,” you assure him, your voice soft, “you didn’t ruin anything.”

That gets him to look at you, but only briefly, his eyes flickering to yours before darting away. He shifts slightly on the edge of the tub.

You grin, deciding to tease him just a little. “Come back out whenever you’re ready. Oh, and I’ll make sure that show isn’t on when you do.”

His lips part slightly before pressing into a flat line. A weak chuckle escapes him, half amusement, half mortification. “Yeah. Thanks for that.”

You squeeze his arm lightly before rising to your feet. As you do, you glance down at him one last time, watching as he rubs the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. Stifling a giggle, you reach for the doorknob.

“See you out there,” you say, stepping through the doorway.

As you make your way back to the living room, you pass by Yuji’s room once again. This time, you keep your gaze fixed straight ahead, resisting the urge to steal another glance inside. If Sukuna were to catch you looking, even for a second, he’d know you saw him earlier. He always knows. And you’re not sure you’d be able to school your expression fast enough to keep the truth from spilling across your face.

Right now isn’t the time to deal with whatever it is Sukuna’s got going on. Right now, you just want to have fun with your friends. You can deal with anything else once you get home.

That’s what you keep telling yourself.

Upon re-entering the living room, you notice the show from earlier has already been turned off, the soft hum of music filling the space instead—low, rhythmic beats that sink into the atmosphere like a gentle pulse. Yuji is sprawled across the couch on his back with a half-eaten chip bag laying forgotten on his lap, one arm tucked behind his head, the other drumming lazy fingers against his stomach in time with the music. His gaze is fixed on the ceiling, his expression distant, no doubt lost somewhere in the hazy lull of his high.

Nobara mirrors his sprawl on the floor, phone in hand, absentmindedly scrolling as she occasionally pops a chip into her mouth. You retake your spot beside her, snatching one from the bag without a word.

“Do you think that grass is, like, the earth’s pubic hair?”

“Yuji. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Nobara responds immediately. Based on her reply, you can only assume this has been going on for a while.

“I’m just saying! It makes sense if you think about it.”

“He’s kinda got a point,” you add with an amused tilt of your lips.

“Please, don’t encourage him.”

“You guys just need to get on my level. Nobody’s on my level,” Yuji pouts.

Before anyone can respond, Megumi reappears, looking far better than he did before. His complexion is no longer pale, his movements steadier, the color returned to his cheeks. He runs a hand through his hair as he steps into the room, shaking off the last remnants of his ordeal.

“Welcome back, buddy!” Yuji exclaims, immediately sitting up to make room for him on the couch. “We were worried about you! Were you fighting demons in there or what?”

Megumi levels a deadpan look at him before scanning the room, his gaze settling on you and Nobara before he sinks back into his previous spot. In one swift motion, he reaches over and swipes the bag of chips right off Yuji’s lap with a little more force than necessary.

“Nobody speaks of this outside of this room,” he says, voice flat as he pops a chip into his mouth. “Or you’re all dead.”

“Alright, jeez. Relax. Not like we’ve never greened out before,” Nobara mutters without looking up from her phone.

As the night winds down, conversations fade into a comfortable lull, and Nobara suggests putting on a movie. You settle in as it plays, watching it unfold on screen, but your mind is elsewhere now.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t stop thinking about what you saw in Yuji’s room—Sukuna lying there, his hands fisted in his hair like he was holding himself together by sheer force of will, seemingly teetering on the edge of some sort of breakdown.

You’ve never seen him like that, so unguarded, so vulnerable. You’ve seen him express emotion, sure. Anger, usually. Or quieter flickers hidden beneath sharp words and sharper smiles. But you’ve never seen something like that, not from him. It was unsettling, to say the least.

Is it because of me?

The question nags at you, digging into your ribs like a phantom dagger, whispering doubts into the corners of your mind.

Would he be angry if he knew you saw him like that? Or would he shut you out even more?

The idea sends a wave of sadness through you. Your heart aches for him. Whatever it is he’s going through, you have a sinking feeling that he’ll never open up, no matter how much you pry.

You shift in your spot, eyes flitting toward Yuji’s bedroom before quickly turning away.

Don’t.

The urge to check on him gnaws at you, but after the cold shoulder he’s been giving you all day, you doubt he’d give you the answers you’re looking for.

So instead, you decide it’s time to head home for the night. Yujis passed out anyway, having fallen asleep almost as soon as the movie started, and Megumi looks like he’s close behind him. You stand, gathering your things as you whisper your goodbyes, heading to the door.

Just as your fingers curl around the doorknob and open it to step outside, Sukuna appears, rounding the corner with his usual quiet grace. He doesn’t pause, doesn’t look anywhere but forward. He just slips past you and steps out the door ahead of you, carefully maneuvering his body so that his arm doesn’t so much as slightly brush your own.

You exhale slowly, watching his back as he strides ahead, his steps long and deliberate. You’re not surprised to see him keeping up his silent act. He doesn’t know that you saw him in Yuji’s room, after all. He doesn’t know you stood there, rooted in place, witnessing him beginning to unravel at the seams.

You step outside after him, the cold air a sharp contrast to the cozy warmth of Yuji’s apartment, slapping you like an icy wake-up call. Sukuna is already way ahead of you. The wind tugs at the strands of his hair, but he doesn’t react—just keeps walking, his movements purposeful, controlled.

By the time you reach the car, he’s already inside, the door shutting with a firm click. You sigh, tightening the grip on your keys.

You settle into the driver's seat, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot. The hum of the car feels louder than usual in the empty space between you. Neither of you says a word.

You want to say something, anything, to break this awkward tension. But… what can you say? You glance over in his direction briefly, but Sukuna is turned away, the side of his face barely visible in the dim light coming off the dashboard. You can’t tell if he’s avoiding you, or just lost in his own thoughts. Probably both. Either way, you can feel the distance continuing to grow between you with every minute that ticks by.

You clench your jaw, fighting the urge to demand an explanation for his behavior today.

Just drive.

When you finally pull into the parking lot to your apartment, Sukuna doesn’t wait. As soon as the car comes to a stop and you shut the engine off, he’s already out, his door slamming shut before you can un-click your seatbelt.

You watch his back as he walks ahead, his long strides forcing you to pick up your pace just to keep up. With every step, frustration burns hotter inside of you, winding itself around the ache that’s been sitting there since you saw him in Yuji’s room.

Why won’t he let you in? He’s hurting, you saw it with your own eyes. So why is he still keeping you at arm’s length? Why does he insist on suffering in silence when you’re right here?

By the time you reach the door to your apartment, your chest feels tight with your unspoken thoughts, the urge to voice them aloud becoming harder and harder to resist. You step inside right behind him, closing the door softly despite your inner turmoil threatening to spill over. And once again, Sukuna moves past you without a word, already striding down the hall, probably planning to disappear to wherever the hell he goes when he doesn’t want to be seen.

You make a quick decision. You’ve had enough of being ignored. You can’t just keep pretending everything is fine, like you’re sure he intends to. You have to say something.

“Sukuna.”

He stops, turning halfway around to face you. You study him carefully, searching for even the faintest trace of what you witnessed earlier—the tension in his jaw, the desolation in his face, the silent war he was waging within himself.

But there’s nothing.

Where there should be emotion—something raw and real—there is only an empty stare, a hollow reflection of the man you know lurks beneath his mask.

Cold. Dark. Void.

It’s a door slammed shut, an unspoken message that whatever moment of weakness you glimpsed was never meant for you.

The air between you grows infinitely heavier, colder. You can almost physically feel it, the absence of him, like something vital has been drained from the space he occupies. It prickles at your skin, wrapping itself around you, a quiet, almost suffocating numbness that mirrors the emptiness in his gaze.

He raises his brows at you, waiting for you to continue.

“You’ve been ignoring me.”

“Have I?” his voice is steady, indifferent.

You fold your arms across your chest, feeling your irritation finally rising to the surface. “Yes. You haven’t said a word to me all day. You haven’t even looked at me, not since—“ you cut yourself off, afraid to bring up the almost-kiss directly, “not since last night.”

Sukuna turns away, dismissing you with the shift of his shoulders, as if the conversation itself is beneath him. “There’s nothing to say,” he replies flatly, his tone impersonal, like he’s already decided this discussion isn’t worth his time.

But you refuse to allow him to slip through your fingers so easily. “Come on, don’t do that,” you step closer to him, determined to not let him brush it off, “don’t just… shut me out. Haven’t we moved past this?” your voice softens, the concern evident in your words.

Sukuna remains still, his shoulders drawn tight, his entire body wound like a thread stretched too thin. He doesn’t turn to respond, but his silence speaks louder than any answer he could give. And still, you push, even knowing it might only drive him further away.

“Why won’t you just talk to me?” you continue, your frustration giving way to something dangerously close to pleading. “I’ve opened up to you about everything—about my past, my ex, my life. You’ve basically seen it all. But you? You’ve given me nothing. You hide behind this wall like you’re… some… untouchable thing.”

At that, Sukuna finally turns his head, just slightly, his narrowed eyes settling on you over his shoulder. There’s a shift in the way his eyes almost darken, like a tide pulling back before the wave crashes. His voice is low, almost a growl.

“What exactly do you want from me?”

His question stings, cutting deep. Your throat constricts, like his own words have wrapped themselves tight around your airway, but you swallow hard, willing yourself to push through it.

“I want you to stop pretending that this means nothing to you,” you say, gesturing between the two of you, between the space that feels impossibly vast despite how close you stand, “that I mean nothing to you.”

For a moment, he just stares blankly at you in response. Then, without warning, a low, humorless laugh escapes him, dry and sharp, like the crack of a splintering bone. “You think this… whatever this is, means something to me?”

You take a breath, the words that have been stuck inside you for days, weeks, finally crashing to the surface.

“I know it does,” you say, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts, “and I know you feel it too, Sukuna. You’re not as detached as you think you are.”

He whips around at that, his face twisting, a sharp flash of anger breaking through his emotionless exterior. His brows pull together in disbelief, a deep furrow forming between them.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he snaps, his voice sharp. “Let me guess, you think just because we’re stuck in this bond, you can ‘fix’ me, is that it? You think I can feel anything? Love? Don’t be foolish.”

You’re taken aback by his words, his sudden anger. This is not how you wanted this conversation to go at all. But it’s happening now, spiraling out of control right in front of you, and there’s no turning back.

“I’m not trying to fix you. I’m just asking you to let me in.” You step closer, desperate to break through the icy wall he continues to throw up, to finally see the real him that he’s been hiding behind it. You’re tired of him pretending there’s nothing left of the man he once was.

Fuck it. You might as well let it all out.

“I’m not like her, Sukuna.”

His reaction is immediate. Sukuna’s body stiffens, his shoulders locking into place as if he’s just been struck. His eyes widen dangerously as his stare burns straight through you, unsettling you to your core.

“What?” His voice is low, quiet, but full of warning, like a blade pressed to your throat.

Your pulse pounds rapidly in your ears, your instincts screaming at you to stop and retreat, but you can’t stop yourself. The words continue to spill out.

“Look, I know about Uraume. I know what she did to you. I—“

“If I were you, I’d choose my next words very carefully,” he interrupts, his tone razor-sharp and dripping with venom.

You really should stop talking. Any rational person would. But the next words are already on your tongue, your desperation outweighing your better judgment. If you just keep pushing, if you can just make him see—he’ll believe you. He has to.

“I’m not her, Sukuna. You can trust me. I would never do that to you.”

His eyes flash, cold rage igniting in them like a distant storm, dark and inevitable. He takes a slow step toward you, his presence suddenly overwhelming, and you have to lock your legs in place to fight the urge to step back in response.

“Since you think you know so much,” he growls, his voice dripping with contempt, “then surely you know what happened to her, don’t you?”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head in response, your voice sounding much smaller and less confident than before. “No, I don’t.”

His expression changes, the sharp edges of his fury settling into something eerily calm. Too calm. His lips curl, not into a smirk, but something that resembles more of a grimace, though his eyes remain wide, uncanny and hollow.

“I killed her.”

He takes another step closer, and a sudden, primal fear rises inside you, sharp and instinctual. Your body tenses as you cower back.

His jaw tightens, and for a brief moment, a shadow of something—pain, maybe rage—contorts his features. But it’s gone in an instant, swallowed expertly by that cold, unrelenting mask.

“She screamed,” he continues, his voice dipping lower, “begged for mercy, for forgiveness.” A slow, humorless chuckle escapes him, causing a chill to run along your flesh. “As if it meant anything. As if I would ever grant her either.”

He takes a final step forward, and you don’t move, don’t breathe.

“I tore her apart, piece by piece for what she did to me. Watched her blood stain the ground like spilled ink. And when she finally stopped screaming, when she gasped that last, pitiful breath—“ he leans in, just slightly, “it was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard.”

Your stomach plummets, a sickening drop that leaves you dizzy. His words coil around your throat like a noose, tightening, choking. You had considered the possibility—of course you had. Sukuna had killed before. You had seen it yourself in the visions of his past. But those had been in battle, acts of war and conquest.

This… this was something else entirely.

A slow, merciless dismantling. A deliberate, calculated destruction of someone he once loved. Nausea rises in the pit of your stomach, threatening to bubble up into your throat. You stare at him, at the thing standing in front of you, and for the first time, you feel like you’re truly seeing him. The demon. The unrepentant, merciless king who had bathed in the blood of those who wronged him.

The Sukuna you’ve come to know—the one who met your wit with dry amusement, the one whose touch had once felt gentle against your skin, who had almost kissed you just yesterday—is gone.

“I…”

You take another step back, the words struggling to form on your trembling lips.

“You’re nothing like her,” he sneers, his voice laced with disdain, “and you never will be. You think just because you have some sort of odd little obsession with me, that makes you special? That I could ever feel for you what I once felt for her?” His lips curl into something akin to a snarl, “I am a monster. I kill, I destroy, I devour.”

His words strike like a blade, each syllable leaving his lips like tiny knives carving into your heart, stripping it away piece by piece, leaving you hollow. You can do nothing but watch, wide-eyed, empty, nothing left but the overwhelming ache where hope used to be.

“You’re nothing to me,” he continues, cruel and cutting. “Your pathetic little life is a mere speck in the grand scheme of things. I have been here for centuries. And I will continue to be here long after you’ve rotted, buried deep and forgotten underground.”

The room feels like it’s closing in on you, your vision blurring around the edges as your eyes begin to fill with unshed tears. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You have no words. The air is heavy, thick with the weight of his cold dismissal of you.

“I’m not capable of love, girl, and you’d do well to remember that.” He says, his voice quieter now, but no less harsh.

“I’m not some human you can change and mold into a version that you prefer. I’m a demon. That’s all I’ll ever be.” He takes a step back, his face hard and unrelenting. “And if you think for even a second that I could ever care about you, then you’re even more fucking pathetic than I thought.”

The tears come fast, scorching trails down your flushed cheeks as your breath turns ragged. Your vision blurs, the room shrinking in around you, and all you can think is that you need to get away. Away from him, from his words still ringing in your skull, splintering through your chest like jagged glass.

You don’t look at him. You don’t even think. You just run.

You barely make it to your bedroom before the first sob rips free, raw and uncontrollable. The door slams behind you, but it does nothing to stop the pain from clawing its way up your throat, your shoulders heaving with the force of it. You stumble forward, collapsing onto your bed, curling in on yourself like a wounded animal.

Your hands tangle in your hair, gripping tightly, desperately, as if you could anchor yourself, as if you could stop the ache spreading through your chest, sinking deep into your bones. But it’s useless. The sobs wrack through you, shaking you to your very core, your breaths coming sharp and fast, too fast, until you’re gasping, until it feels like you’re drowning in it, in him, in everything you thought you had and everything he just tore apart in an instant.

And still, his voice lingers. Still, it hurts.

How could you be so stupid?

Of course he doesn’t care. Of course he doesn’t feel. He’s a demon—a creature of pure, unrelenting cruelty. You knew that. You’ve always known that. And still, somehow, you let yourself believe. You let yourself hope that there was something more beneath all that rage and ruin, something real. Something for you.

But there isn’t.

There never was.

You’re just a pathetic, lovesick fool, chasing a dream that was never yours to begin with. He’s not a man. He’s not someone to be understood or saved, not someone who could ever love you back. He is darkness, destruction, a force of nature that does not bend, does not break, does not care.

Your stomach twists with the sheer humiliation of it, shame seeping into your skin like poison. How could you let yourself fall? How could you have been so blind?

Your body trembles as you curl in tighter, rocking slightly, trying to push it away, to find some shred of comfort in the wreckage. But the thoughts won’t stop. The hurt won’t stop. It digs into your ribs, carves itself into your heart, reminding you over and over and over—

“You’re nothing to me.”

A strangled sob tears from your throat, raw and broken, as you bury your face into the pillow, desperate to muffle the sound. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. The ache in your chest is too big, too unbearable, clawing at your ribs, crushing the air from your lungs.

For a fleeting moment, you think about leaving. Just getting up and walking out the door, disappearing into the night, never looking back. Maybe if you run fast enough, far enough, you can outrun this pain, escape the weight of what you’ve done, what you let yourself believe.

But where would you go?

There is nowhere he wouldn’t follow. No distance you could put between you that the bond wouldn’t snap back into place, dragging you right back to him. He is inescapable.

And you are trapped.

Your chest tightens violently, a crushing, suffocating weight settling onto it, making it impossible to breathe. The walls feel smaller, the air thinner, the room closing in like a prison. You squeeze your eyes shut, fists clenching in the sheets, trying to steady yourself, to think, to breathe.

Breathe.

Eventually, the sobs fade, not because the pain lessens, but because your body simply can’t keep up with it anymore. You lie still, curled in on yourself, drained beyond measure. The tears don’t stop, though—they slip silently down your face, soaking into the pillow, leaving behind the sticky remnants of grief. The hurt remains, dull now, a hollow, throbbing thing inside your chest, like an open wound that refuses to close.

You take a trembling breath, staring blankly at the wall as the crushing silence of the room presses in around you, thick and suffocating.

“You’re nothing to me.”

The words replay in your head, slow and deliberate, sinking deeper with every repetition. Maybe he’s right. Maybe this was all a mistake. Maybe you were foolish, delusional to think you could ever be anything more than a passing amusement to him. To believe you could reach something inside him that simply doesn’t exist.

And yet.

Even as you think it, even as you try to carve the truth into your own heart, a part of you refuses to believe it. Because you know better.

You’ve seen it. Felt it.

Despite his cruelty, despite the ice in his voice, despite the way he shut you out like you were nothing—you know there’s something beneath it all, something he won’t let himself admit.

But if he refuses to acknowledge it… does it even matter?

The thought lingers, heavy and unresolved, sinking deep into the marrow of your bones.

It shouldn’t matter. It can’t matter.

As you lie there, hollowed out and aching, the weight of his words pressing into your ribs like iron, you know this wound won’t fade so easily. It’s carved too deep, settled too far inside you.

So you let the tears fall, silent and endless, tracing paths down your skin like a grief that refuses to be swallowed. You close your eyes against the darkness, but there is no escape—not from this, not from him.

All you can do now is endure.

☰ Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

☰ Taglist: @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @after-laughter-come-tears @rizzyjuney609 @prezzleyy

[sweetdispatch]

Song 2 - Q. Hughes

My Muse | Song 1 pairing: Quinn Hughes x singer!reader summary: Aftermath of your and Quinn' kiss is not as positive as you thought warning: swear words taglist: @bunbunbl0gs @hwalllllllelujah

Things become weird between you and Quinn since that kiss. You were still hanging out with him during days off but you could feel the tension from his side. Like he regretted this. You didn’t confront him about this. You always believed that everything is happening for a reason and waited for the universe to do the work for you. 

Quinn was showing up at your place after games only if he lost. For him, you were his safe space who won’t judge him - just listen. Won games he was celebrating with his team. You understood this but it made you sad that he didn’t want to do it with you like it was in previous weeks. You held your tongue and just accepted the new reality of your friendship. 

This kiss for you was eye opening. You knew that you needed Quinn more than you would like to admit. All the touches, all the time you spent were nothing compared to the feeling of his lips on yours. You were craving him more and more now. You never felt this much love like now and that’s why you were mad that you’re so helpless. 

For Quinn, this kiss was confusing. He didn’t know what to think. Sure, he was falling for you but he was scared of expressing this. He wasn’t ready to make a move and be in a relationship. Firstly he needed to sort things out with his feelings before he could give you the love you deserve. That’s why his genius plan was to keep you on distance, until he’ll be 100% sure. 

It was an awkward atmosphere but you thought that it would go away soon. It didn’t, with time it was even worse. Quinn focused on hockey. You weren’t his priority anymore. He wanted to be better and wanted to succeed. He was seeing you only if he had to. He stopped randomly showing up at your apartment or inviting you for a coffee in his free time. 

That’s why you threw yourself into work. You didn’t want to just sit and wait for Quinn. Sure, you could talk with him but you weren’t ready to face the consequences. You were writing new songs and working hard on your album. The vision slightly changed because you didn’t want to have an album about your and his journey but inspired by being in love and how hurtful it might be. 

But one song was your way to get Quinn to talk with you. You tried to reach him a couple times to see him but he was always making excuses that he’s busy. For the first couple times you believed him but for a whole month, he was ignoring you. You were mad at him for playing with you.

You didn’t know where you were standing. You didn’t know if you should move on and forget about Quinn or you should treat him as a friend or give him time to date you. You wanted to know what he’s thinking about you and this whole situation. It was weird because after the kiss, you were still hanging out but two months later he was acting like you’re not existing. 

But if you need my love

My clothes are off, I’m comin’ over to your place

You wanted to give him your love but you weren’t sure if Quinn wanted it. You were willing to sacrifice everything to be with him. You were ready to give everything you can to him. You wanted to go to his place and just be there, next to him without any tension floating around you two. He was the guy you love and ready to show it to him. 

And if you don’t need my love

Well, I didn’t want your little bitch-ass anyway

You were thinking about the scenario when Quinn is telling you that he doesn’t want you. That’s how you came up with the last lyric. If he’s not into you, you don't want him either. This was a lie because you desperately needed him but you won’t be begging him. You’ll move on and find someone who actually wants you. For now, this is all you had but you knew that the song would write itself and you weren’t wrong.  

Yeah, I’m a busy woman

I wouldn’t let you come into my calendar any night

Quinn finally called you and asked if you could meet with him. You wanted to but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that you’re waiting for his call to drop everything and run to him. You were now a busy woman, hardly working on her new album. That's why you told him that you need to check your calendar when you have time. You had time whenever you wanted but he didn’t need to know that. 

Of course, Quinn was surprised by your answer. He thought that you’re free when you want to be. He remembered when you were telling him that you’re working when you want because you didn’t want to put pressure on yourself. He slowly started to realise that maybe cutting you off was a bad idea and he shouldn’t be doing this. For his luck, you agreed to see him the next day. 

It was the first time you saw Quinn in a month. His hair was longer and he had a slightly longer beard but still, he looked attractive. You didn’t know where to start the conversation. You felt like you two grew apart in the past four weeks and now nothing was connecting you except for the past. You were sitting on a couch in his apartment with a cup of tea in your hands waiting for him to return. 

“I want to say sorry for ignoring you” Quinn started when he sat on the couch. “It was childish from me. I should talk with you instead of running away”

“Yeah, you should. I was wondering if I did something wrong but it was a mutual kiss so I’m not the only one to blame for the situation” You took a sip from the cup. 

“About that” Quinn took a deep breath. “I don’t regret this kiss if this is what you’re implying. I needed to know about this whole situation and what it meant for us”

“What conclusion did you come up with?” You asked him. 

“I like you but I don’t think I’m ready for this relationship. The problem is not with you but I just don’t want to be in a spotlight. We are well known and people will be talking and you know me, I like privacy that’s why I’m asking you to wait for me until I’m ready” Quinn said, hoping that you understand his point of view. “What about staying friends? For now?” 

“Okay, sure. If this is what you want I’m willing to wait” You told him truthfully. Quinn smiled at you and you two felt like the atmosphere became lighter.

You were telling him about your new album and music you’re currently making but didn’t show him anything. Quinn understood that you want to keep this as a secret for now. He was telling you how much of a hell hockey had been lately for him. He was grateful that you were a hockey fan and knew how much on a plate he had right now. 

But if you want my kisses

I’ll be your perfect Mrs. ‘til the day that one of us dies

Everything came back to normal between you two after this conversation. You waited for Quinn until he’s gonna be ready but it was killing you. It was an awful feeling to know that he wants you as bad as you want him but was scared of being in the public eye. You were grateful for your career but sometimes, you wished that you’re just a normal girl who doesn’t have to worry about life and what people will say. 

The last verses to the song come to your mind weeks after the conversation with Quinn. If he wanted you, you were ready to be his perfect girlfriend. You wanted to be the best version of yourself for him. When you finished the song, you invited your friend over to show them. This was your second song that was ready because others were partially written or recorded. 

They instantly loved the song. It was catchy and the lyrics were fun to sing along. Quinn couldn't make it to have the first impression at your small gathering but promised to see you the next day. When he arrived at your place, the first thing he wanted was to listen to it. You played him the song and from his facial expression you could tell that he loves it. 

“It’s a great song. It’s like your personality. Strong woman who knows what she wants” Quinn said when the song stopped. 

“Yeah, it’s because I wrote it” You giggled. 

“One question. Is this song again about me?” Quinn asked out of curiosity. 

“Maybe. I’m writing when I’m inspired and this whole situation was… inspiring” You told him not really sure what you should tell him or how to explain it. 

“Well I’m happy that I’m your muse” Quinn joked and you tensed a little bit. He was your muse but you didn’t know it’s that obvious. Before you could say anything back, he continued. “I hope that one day you’ll write something more cheerful about me” 

“We’ll see. You never know if I already didn’t do it” You teased him. 

“C’mon, spill it. Tell me more about this song” Quinn begged you. 

“Not a chance Hughes, you need to earn it” You joked and saw Quinn rolling his eyes. 

The rest of the day went slowly. You two were talking and enjoying each other's company. There was no rush. Everything looked normal like you didn’t face a huge problem just a week ago. Now, all you needed to have was patience until Quinn was ready to be in a relationship. 

Couple weeks later, Quinn told you about the gala he needed to attempt. To your surprise, he asked you to be his plus one. This meant the first ever public appearance of you two together but for you, it meant that he’s slowly tearing down the wall he built at the beginning. You were happy about it but didn’t know how much jealousy it would cost you. 

Song 3

[anakinstwinklebunny]

imagine its new year’s eve, sam’s at his moms house and is completely clueless when his son has a tantrum that lasts forever, but that boy would have zero clue how to calm a baby down. I feel like the crying would just go for hours since sam isn’t really doing anything to stop him. love your writing.💜

SAM MONROE sat on the worn-out couch at his mom’s house, legs sprawled out, one arm thrown over the backrest, the other holding a half-empty soda can. The TV was on, humming with some random New Year’s countdown special in the background, cause the main noise was the wailing coming from the other side of the living room.

Vinnie was in full meltdown mode, chubby cheeks streaked with tears, face scrunched up as he clutched his one-eyed stuffed bunny. His sobs were loud enough to make Sam wince every second, but he didn’t really know what to do.

“Alright, buddy,” Sam sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, putting the can on the coffee table before swinging his legs to sit on the couch “what’s the problem? You hungry? Tired? You miss your mom or somethin’?”

The toddler just wailed louder, stumping his foot against the floor

Sam rolled his eyes “Goddamn, kid, you’ve been crying for, like, an hour. Can you chill for two seconds?” He looked around, hoping his mom or one of his stepbrothers would magically appear to save him, but the living room was empty. Everyone had to be in the backyard, laughing and playing some lame game, leaving him to figure this out alone.

Vinnie’s cries hit a new octave, which Sam finally realized this wasn’t going to fix itself. “Alright, alright, I get it! You’re pissed.” He stood and scooped Vinnie up, holding him awkwardly under his arm like a football. The toddler squirmed and screamed louder, and Sam cursed under his breath.

“Okay, not that, got it.” He set Vinnie on his hip, bouncing him clumsily, feeling helpless. Like he himself is about to burst crying just because he can't help his son. “What do people do? Uh… shh? Like that’s supposed to work?”

Vinnie let out a piercing scream in response, and Sam winced, head thumping against the wall behind him. “For the love of--dude, c’mon. You’re killin’ me here.”

He tried pacing the living room, mumbling half-hearted reassurances. “You’re fine. It’s New Year’s Eve. Don’t you wanna stay up? See fireworks? Eat some… apple slices or whatever?” as if it was the best choice for the 20 month old boy

Vinnie’s crying didn’t stop at all, and Sam’s panic grew. He was clueless. Sure, he could handle diapers and baths and feeding him, but tantrums? Full-on breakdowns? This was a whole new level of parenting hell he was not ready for

“Alright, what about music? You like music, right?” Sam grabbed his phone and pulled up some random playlist for the kids, making sure the first song blaring through the speakers was loud enough for the boy to hear. “There, happy now?”

Vinnie’s cries faltered for a split second before he went right back to sobbing, his little hands clutching Sam’s shirt like his life depended on it.

Sam let out a frustrated groan. “Dude, I’m trying here!” He rocked Vinnie in his arms, bouncing becoming more frantic. “What do you want? Huh? Tell me! I’ll give you anything--just--just stop crying!”

Finally, in a last-ditch effort, Sam grabbed the stuffed bunny from the floor and gently pressed it into Vinnie’s arms. “Here. Take your stupid bunny.”

Vinnie's expression softened before he began to hiccup, sobs slowing down as he hugged the bunny tightly to his chest. His chubby cheeks were still flushed; the tears slowly started to dry, and he let out a pitiful little whimper, leaning his head against Sam’s shoulder.

Sam froze, staring at his now-quiet son like he’d just performed a miracle. “Oh. That’s all you wanted? Your creepy-ass bunny?”

Vinnie let out a soft sniffle, tiny hands clutching the worn toy, and Sam sighed in relief, sinking back onto the couch.

“God..” he muttered, rubbing Vinnie’s back in slow circles. The toddler let out a tired little yawn, head nuzzling into the crock of Sam’s neck.

“Yeah, well, happy freakin’ New Year,” Sam mumbled, resting his chin on top of Vinnie’s head with a sigh, before nuzzling to the boy's curls

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[wzrd-wheezes]

Cat and Mouse - Rockstar!Sirius x Reader Smut

AN - hello! this is the first fic im posting in a little while and what better way to come back than with some sirius smut. I'm a little rusty so please forgive me <3

Includes: cocky, arrogant, somewhat toxic sirius. swearing. unprotected sex. choking. slight degradation and just other general filth.

1.2k words.

smut starts under the cut.

“I knew you’d come tonight.” Sirius drawled, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. He handed his guitar to one of the roadies, his skin glistening with sweat from the bright stage lights and made his way over to her. 

“Didn’t have anything better to do.” Y/N said drily, her arms folded over her chest. She purposely tried not to look at him, letting her gaze drift to his bandmates who were packing away the rest of their equipment.  

“Seems like you never have anything better to do,” Sirius taunted, leaning over and smirking at her, “you know, with the number of times that you tell me you’re not coming to see me again, yet every time I play you conveniently have ‘nothing better to do’.”  

“Yet you always put my name on the guestlist.” 

“Because I enjoy this little game we play. The one where you pretend that you’re not bothered about me even though we both know that you are.” 

“I’m the one that’s bothered?” Y/N scoffed, “You’re the one that I get fifteen missed calls off when I don’t show up to your gigs. You’re the one that writes songs about me when I’m not even your girlfriend. But I’m the one that’s bothered?” 

 "You're the one who always shows up at these gigs only to see me and then make out like you don’t care about me." he shot back. "You love the attention I give you. You love the fact that I write about you.” Sirius laughed. 

“You’re a narcissist. You like the fact that I have feelings for you, that I care enough to show up to your concerts.” she spat. 

“Ah, but you love it.” He said, his town teasing as he leaned closer towards her, “I know you do.” 

As if to prove his point, he leaned forward and place one hand gently under her chin, forcing her eyes up towards him. Then, ever so gently, brushed her lips with his, letting the barest hint of a kiss touch her before letting his hand drop.  

Sirius was clearly enjoying himself and it was clear to Y/N that he was just trying to get under her skin. She glared back at him, angry at him for mocking her but at the same time wanting him badly. It was a feeling that both of them had struggled with for a while now, through months of hooking up yet never actually committing to each other.  

He was relentless, always trying his hardest to catch her off guard. All the times when she had resolved to ignore him, he would find a way to worm his way inside her thoughts. If not by words then by gestures; the way his arm would snake round her waist, the way he would rest his hand on her thigh when they were sitting together, the way he would have her pressed against the wall in the quickest flash if he wanted to.  

“We both know why I’m here so why don’t we just cut the bullshit.” Y/N said, deadpan. 

“Because you’re in love with me?”  

“Because you’re a good fuck, Black.” 

Sirius groaned, the air was thick with the tension that had been building between them. A smug smirk plastered itself across his face.  

“And there it is.” he said, looking her up and down, his eyes roaming over her body and then back up to her lips, “I thought we were going to dance around the inevitable for the rest of the night.” 

Sirius grabbed her by the wrist, yanking him towards his dressing room. A boot-clad foot kicked the door open before swiftly pulling her inside and knocking it shut behind him. 

“There’s no fun in being coy with you, sweetheart,” his eyes still locked on her lips, “I’m aware of how this goes. You come to see me, and you pretend you hate me while I try my hardest to get under your skin. Then inevitably, we both get tired of playing this game and you finally let me fuck you like you’ve been longing for all night.” 

He had her pinned against the door now, one of his hands resting just above her head, bracing himself as he towered over her. He smirked, running his fingers down her neck. He loved it when they were like this, how they would both pretend to not be absolutely crazy with desire for each other. It was exciting. A game of cat and mouse that had been going on for far too long.  

His long, slender fingers wrapped around her throat, the cool metal of his rings pressing against her skin. He tightened his grip ever so slightly, enjoying the soft gasp that escaped her lips.  

“You look so pretty like this.” he said, his voice low, “So pretty with my hand around your neck.” 

He dipped his head down, catching her lips in his, teeth clashing together as he roughly kissed her. He groaned into her mouth, his tongue slipping inside, their kisses becoming messy. His hands found the back of her thighs, lifting her up so that her legs wrapped around his waist.  

Hastily, he carried her over to the dressing table, putting her down on top of it, her back resting against the mirror. Y/N quickly removed her shirt, Sirius unbuttoning and sliding off her trousers as she did. He dragged her to the edge of the table, roughly spreading her legs.  

“You know you love this, don't you?” he teased, his breath hot and heavy as it fanned over her face, “You love that you’re mine.” 

Sirius’s hands were rough and unrelenting, he was unable to hold himself back, the pair of them far too eager to take it any slower.  

“Stop teasing and just fuck me already.” Y/N said, already breathless.  

Wordlessly, he shoved his jeans down, letting them hang low on his hips. He wasted no time, quickly lining himself up with her, plunging in without given her a second to adjust. A ragged moan escaped her lips, earning a smile from Sirius.  

“I’m the only one that gets to make you make those pretty noises,” he grunted, his hips snapping against hers, “No one can fuck you better than I can, can they?” 

Unable to form a coherent response, she just shook her head, her eyes screwed shut in pleasure. 

“Answer me properly.” 

“N-no.” she gasped, “No one fucks me better than you.” 

That was all the fuel he needed to keep going. He grabbed her forcefully, repositioning her so that she was bent over on the dressing table with him behind her. 

“Want you to look at yourself in the mirror,” he ordered, “Want you to see how desperate and needy you are for me, how good I make you feel.”  

His fingers wove into her hair, adjusting her head so that she had no choice but to stare at their reflection. It was like a high for him, watching her stare at herself in the mirror, taking in her bruised lips and smudged makeup. 

Sirius slammed into her, his grunts mixing with her moans as he chased his own release. He felt her clench around him and he stared thrusting harder, deeper.  

“That’s it. Look at yourself as you cum for me.” he encouraged, “such a little slut for me.” 

Y/N came with a loud moan, her body going slack. Sirius held her up against him as his thrusts got sloppy, his own orgasm quickly approaching. He groaned as he came inside her, panting as he pulled out.  

“So, when’s your next gig?”  

[brodorokihousuke]

I finished Danganronpa 1 !!!

…Well, I did last night. But it was late so I didn’t want to make any posts or anything.

TL:DR is I enjoyed it quite a bit. I have gripes, of course, but nothing can be enjoyed without criticism.

Had a lot of fun liveblogging about it on my discord server (thank you to all who gave me pointers/watched me lose my mind!) but I kind of missed the experience of Tumblr liveblogging, so, now presenting… my Danganronpa sideblog, @brodorokikiyotaka (I’m very funny)! I know this is technically my personal blog so I can put whatever I want here, but… I like theming and organization, so.

Longer review under the cut for those who are interested. For everyone else, have this meme I might as well post somewhere other than my server.

0/10 Kiyotaka dies

Okay, okay, I’m being dramatic. I think him dying made me care about him more, anyway. Made me think a lot about how character death can be used more as a tool… Maybe more Ace Attorney characters should die lmao. Different setting/scenario, but still.

Anyways yeah, I enjoyed it much more than I thought I would. Considering the only exposure I had to the first game (and the series in general really) was watching someone play the first two cases (and only remembering details from the second chapter for some reason) eons ago, it was really fun just… experiencing everything mostly blind.

The characters were fairly compelling, and I liked most of the dialogue. Oh, it was so refreshing to have characters be able to actually swear… Yeah, some of the humor is. Wow! But it’s so occasional that I didn’t really mind (and I’ll admit some of the raunchy jokes got a laugh out of me). It only really got on my nerves when I had to deal with Toko a lot but that was only really around the end of the game.

The gameplay itself was really engaging, especially regarding the trials themselves. It felt way more fast-paced than any Ace Attorney game, and getting things right first try felt incredibly satisfying. I think my only gripe is with the bullet time battles, which didn’t have a very clearly defined “beat” to hit in the songs. And I’m not just salty about having no sense of rhythm, I finished Hi-Fi Rush on hard with no rhythm indicators so I know I’m capable of it.

Speaking of the music, though… hoo. This soundtrack is incredible. And knowing how much music impacts how much I enjoy a given game, I know for a fact this OST cemented this playthrough as one of my more memorable ones. Not only do I love the more well known ones (like Trigger Happy Havoc), but even the like… walking around and investigation music (Beautiful Morning, Box 15/16, etc) is so good. 9/10 rating for the music alone, on par with aa1 honestly (for me. This is a subjective opinion don’t kill me)

The story was mostly followable by me and while my interest maybe wavered a bit as the end drew closer (especially regarding the heavy exposition Junko throws at you at the very end), it left me with an interest in future installments and a lot of thoughts regarding what the ‘before-the-game’ situation was.

The character designs themselves and the art was incredibly memorable and distinct, and left me wanting to try and mimic it (which I’ve already done at least once!). Some of the more ‘painted’ looking still shots look a bit odd - especially since a lot of them use plain black for shading, which is a questionable (though admittedly distinct!) choice - but I never really found it making my experience worse. Also, that pink blood aesthetic is fantastic and I love it.

Overall, I’ll give the game a solid 9 out of 10. I thought about an 8.5 but honestly with how much I enjoyed everything, putting it a bit higher seemed fitting.

[jae-sch-writes]

Fruity Confessions

Characters: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester

Word Count: 1,584

Genre: fluffy goodness

Summary: After a hunt, the Reader gets very drunk. What will Sam do?

Warnings: alcohol consumption (like, a lot of it), mention of murder (nothing out of SPN norm), mention of smut (in a book), hinted at smutty thoughts

A/N: What's up Tumblr? It's been a while. Writing is gonna be all over the place because I have a kid now! (crazy, right?) But as a SAHM, I have a lot of free time to write, so here's to (hopefully), getting back into it. Edited by Grammarly, but any and all mistakes are no one's fault but me, myself, and I.

Want to read more? SPN Masterlist Full Masterlist

You were a fruity drink kinda girl. While the boys had their variety of beers, you preferred Smirnoff Ices or a seltzer of some kind. When the situation called for something a little harder, like at the end of every hunt, the Winchesters drank whiskey, and you enjoyed a bottle of wine. 

With each state you’ve gone to, you made sure to find a winery from that state, and if they had a fruity-flavored bottle, you were definitely getting at least one. This time- Wisconsin.

A hunt had brought you to Green Bay: at Lambeau Field to be specific. Home field Packers’ games were canceled after eight different fans of the Detroit Lions were found dead after their game. It didn’t take long to find out it was a ghost, however, finding out who the ghost was was a different story. After lots of research, Sam had determined it was Bart Starr, the Packers’ quarterback during their first Super Bowl win.

“The dude’s buried in Alabama, so how the hell did he make it here beyond the grave?” Dean asked.

“One of Starr’s jerseys is at the Field. That’s definitely what he’s being tethered to, but it’s gonna be difficult getting it out of its case. Lambeau has all of their memorabilia in cases with alarms,” you said, not looking up from your book. After some moments of silence, you looked up to see Sam and Dean looking at you like you had three heads. “What? I know things.”

“Yeah, but about football?” Dean was shocked. “Not even the game itself, but the fact you just happened to know one of these random player’s jerseys was in their museum? It’s weird.”

“Dean, leave her be, she literally just told us what we’ve gotta burn.” Sam was impressed. While he had never been interested in sports, he was pleasantly surprised by your knowledge, however niche of a topic it may be. “But, I gotta know,” Sam turned to you, “how did you know that?”

“I’ve been to a game or two at Lambeau Field. My dad was a Packers fan.”

You happened to be the one to go to the jersey to burn it while the boys were your backup. The faded green jersey with the number 15 on it was lit up in its display case. You all knew it had to be in and out. Break the case, burn the jersey, and get the hell out.

The sound of shattering glass came with the sound of an alarm, alerting the guard at the entrance to the museum portion of the stadium. Bart Starr was throwing around Sam and Dean like they were footballs.

You had just barely been able to get a match onto the jersey before security was able to see you. Luckily, the small flame was enough to distract him and made him run in the opposite direction to get a fire extinguisher.

The next morning, as Sam and Dean were packing up, you drove to a state business called Festival Foods. There, you found their selection of state-made wines. You opted for a couple of labels all made of cranberries. If you were grabbing wines made in Wisconsin, you might as well grab ones made with one of the state’s bigger industries.

You spent the twelve hours from Green Bay back to Lebanon in almost complete silence. You and Sam reading your books, and Dean humming along to whatever song was playing on the radio.

The minute you got home, you grabbed the cooler and went to the kitchen. Your only thoughts were on the wine you had got and how you needed to try it.

“Y/N, you didn’t even grab your-” Sam’s sentence was interrupted by seeing you grabbing a wine glass from the cupboard. “I’ll go put your bag in your room.” Sam knew better than to get between you and your wine. The last time he tried that, he ended up on the floor from trying to cut you off for the night. Your love for wine and need for a drink after a hunt had given you the drunken power to somehow take him down, despite the size difference between you and him. 

Sam retreated from the kitchen to his bedroom. You took your bottle, glass, and book to the library and settled yourself into the loveseat you had picked for nights like these. 

About 3/4ths of the bottle in, you had abandoned the thought of a wine glass and just started drinking straight from the bottle. Your mind was wandering from the fantasy-romance you were reading and to thoughts of Sam. When you reached a smutty part of the story, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be with Sam in that way.

You were now a bottle down, and made your way back to the kitchen to open up another one. It really didn't take long for you to finish the second bottle. You were stumbling to the kitchen, with the intent to grab your third bottle, when you were stopped by the table in the library, not at it, by it. You had walked right into it, almost like you forgot the large oak table was there. 

Getting to the kitchen truly was difficult for you, your drunken version of a marathon. Sam heard all of the commotion going on and took a guess on where you were heading. Usually he would leave you be, but being able to hear you walk into things, he decided to risk you being mad at him. 

He stood in the doorway, blocking the entrance to the kitchen, and let you walk right into him. It took him everything to keep him from laughing at your face when you were met with the wall of muscle. 

“Sammy, whaddya doin’ here?” Your words were slurred, but not incoherent.

“Preventing alcohol poisoning,” Sam grabbed your hand and guided you down the hall. “Come on, let's get you to bed.”

“Can I sleep in yours?” Your drunken state left you with no filter. The words just came out of your mouth. 

“Ya know, given you walked right into me like I was invisible, that might actually be a good idea.”

Sam’s response invoked a giggle from you, and he couldn't help but smile. Even though you were stumbling down the halls of the Bunker, bumping into Sam every couple of steps, he thought you were adorable. You were usually pretty reserved and in control, but like this, you’re care-free, not calculating your every move. 

It took almost twice as long to get to Sam’s room as usual with how many times you bumped into him or tripped over your own feet resulting in him having to catch you. Sam told himself after the fourth time if you fell one more time, he was just going to pick you up and carry you the rest of the way. Much to his dismay, that did not happen. He would have loved to know your reaction in the morning if you remembered him doing that. 

When you finally reached Sam’s room, the first thing you did was flop on the bed, or attempt to anyway. Thankfully, you fell just short of landing all the way on so your head never hit the floor. Sam chuckled and helped you up. Before laying back down, you took off your shirt, leaving you in just your bra and sweatpants. 

This wasn't the first time Sam had seen you without a shirt, or the first time the two of you shared a bed, but this time was different. This time you were drunk and didn't really know what you were doing. In your drunken state, you were just getting ready for bed, for Sam, he couldn't help but think that you thought of him as someone safe. Why else would you have asked if you could stay with him tonight?

Sam got you comfy on the bed, all the while you were giggling up a storm. Sam looked at you and smiled. “What? What's so funny, Y/N/N?”

“Nothin’. I just think you're cute. And tall,” you looked at Sam with big eyes and a goofy grin. “Oh my gosh you're so tall.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Sam chuckled. “Let's just get you to sleep, alright?”

You nodded as he helped you make sure you didn't smack your head against his bed frame. Sam grabbed the small trash can sitting at his desk and brought it to your side of the bed. You usually held your liquor really well, but given your state, he didn't want to take any chances. 

“Sammy?” you say quietly.

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” your voice got serious. Sam knew you'd be falling asleep soon, you always stopped being goofy towards the end of the night. 

“I mean it. I really do,” Sam knew you weren't just saying that because you were drunk. If you were talking, your filter may be going, but you mean every word that comes out of your mouth. 

“I know you do,” Sam smiled softly before crawling into his bed behind you and pulling his blanket over the two of you. He let his arm fall over your side and rubbed his thumb in small circles over your stomach. He hated not knowing if you were going to remember this in the morning. 

He waited to hear your breathing become slow and steady before whispering, “I love you, too, Y/N/N.”

Tag List

@train-wrecc

add yourself HERE

[cr4yolaas]

mezzo forte — ebb and flow

track 9: homesick v.2 | masterlist | track 11: tbd

she feels sick to her stomach when she opens her door. the mid afternoon sun beats down on his back — it’s clear in the sweat collecting on his face and the dark splotch around the collar of his t-shirt. she can’t decide if she wants to see him.

“haji, why are you here?”

the call of his name — not his nickname, never his nickname, not when it fell from her lips — renders him immobile. whatever confidence he mustered up on the trip to her place dissipates, and the lines he’d carefully conjured up while taking the steps up to the door slip away. “i wanted to see you,” he whispers, seemingly unsure in his answer.

she’s scared to respond. her irritation is still riddled within every crack and crevice. she doesn’t want to say the wrong thing.

“why?”

he pauses. it’s silly, watching someone as sure and stable as athletic trainer hajime iwaizumi crumble to dust at the receiving end of such a simple question. the thought makes him want to curl in on himself, until he’s no longer recognizable. instinctively, his hand drops to the hem of his shirt, the calluses on his fingertips catching onto the loose threads while he fiddles. she notices (she always does), but whatever acknowledgement she wants to wrangle out of her throat fails to escape, leaving them both in silence.

“i want it to be me,” he finally whispers. he looks at her earnestly, with the same determination he bore when he first asked her to play with him the week he moved in, and the same pride he carried when he ran to her first after every victorious game; all of it is reminiscent of the boy she grew up with, and not the man who stands before her with clammy palms and an unsteady head.

“what do you mean?” she asks, though she knows the answer already.

“i want the songs to be about me. all of it.”

“but you said they couldn’t be.”

he shakes his head instantly. he can’t hold it back anymore, the sweet and ripe and tender feeling that’s been growing in his chest since youth. “i didn’t mean that. i was just- i didn’t believe it. i didn’t want to. but now,” he breathes for a second. “i don’t want them to be about anyone else.”

whatever anger she’d been holding onto dissolves entirely, replacing itself with desperate, piercing yearning. the thoughts of her manager fall apart, and the thoughts of the (supposed) impending doom of her career escape her. instead, all she can think about is the way her hands fly to his collar and tug him towards her.

it’s messy, and rocky, and impulsive, but she can’t fight it. her lips meet his, and it feels natural. like she’s been waiting for it for an eternity.

♪ we are nearing the end

♪ i know the end by phoebe bridgers starts playing

♪ in all seriousness im just glad to end this soon LOL

♪ hajime iwaizumi the man that you are. if i were upset and he came to my door professing his love i think i’d also forget about all my issues

♪ shoyo considers himself a “good best man” bc he helped yachi and kiyo finally get together. he does not know wingman and best man are different things

♪ msby 4 has been putting up with iwa and his problems for too long they were jumping for joy when they found out it was over

♪ anyways. i’m glad this is ending soon i have other things i want to work on 😊

taglist: @zumicho @causenessus @guitarstringed-scars @yuminako @chemiru @sunnyskiezzzz @httpsivy @itsdragonius @theycallmenanamisgirl @wyrcan @19calicos @hunnies4bunnies @mawenskiblue @diorzs @loverlunaire @mfcherry @solaqes @myromanempiree @brithedemonspawn @corvid007 @lilchubbyyy @hyenagoated

italicized names are unable to be tagged. please check your privacy settings :)

[winduska]

. ݁₊ 🌌 ⊹ .ᐟ Sapphire | Jeongin x Reader

.ᐟ Pairing: Jeongin x Reader

.ᐟ Genre: Fluff

.ᐟ Word count: 1.8k

.ᐟ Warnings: Nothing (?)

.ᐟ Summary: You and your companions embark on a late-night car ride through the city, however, one of your companions happens to be the individual you hold feelings for.

.ᐟ a.n: This is just short something that I thought of while listening to this song sooo enjoy?

It’s late at night. You and your friends had nothing interesting to do, so boredom quickly overtook your beings. Normally, in this situation, you would just stay at home. The classic evening would take turn once again. You would play games, watch whatever show was playing on the TV and spend a good time with your close ones that you loved so much.

There were two companions that were dear to your heart. Jisung, your best friend since childhood, was one of your daily doses of happiness and joy. He was there for you when you needed him the most, helped you when the times were rough, dried your bloodshed tears full of agony, soothed your pain when you got your heart broken and had all the other best friend qualities. He was like your other part. One couldn’t work without the other, and that was the way this relationship worked. 

And then there was another boy, Jeongin. The word friend tasted salty on your lips when you dared to say it. You would much rather call him something else. Something more meaningful, perhaps. Soulmate? Boyfriend? Lover? Any of those words sounded better than the word friend. You would be jumping from joy if that was the case. But the reality wasn’t that beautiful and astonishing. Maybe in the future, you can say happily that Jeongin being your friend was the lowest naming of your relationship. The couple wave that can be made up will be full of feelings once it happens. But the thing is, will it happen?

Jisung knew about your crush on Jeongin for a long time, even before you knew about it. Jisung as your best friend knew you so well, and he could read your emotions before your own heart realising their presence. It was a dynamic and a skill that you have grown used to. It was a rather helpful trait that Jisung possessed, making your character easier to understand. Not only that, but it has drawn you to so many new emotions and realizations that were attached to your heart. The center of your being always held a special place for the boy, but never crossed the relationship line. You both talked about it and realized that friendship is the only string that’s going to stay attached between the two of you. For some reason, neither of you ever felt something more for each other. Maybe it was the childhood factor? Maybe it was the lack of romanticism between the two of you? You didn’t know. But you were more than happy about the two of you, and you will continue being as happy.

For Jeongin, it was different. Jisung showed up to one of your regular hangouts with Jeongin by his side. The guy seemed rather reserved at first, but as the hours ticked by, his stiffness decreased and his true self slowly showed. Jeongin was rather bubbly when with people he’s comfortable. Playing games with both of you and when he went on a losing streak the shouting and hurt from loosing echoed through the room. You started observing him without you noticing it. The way his hair fell into his face by time, how he raked through it to make it look more presentable, how his eyes snarked their way and perked at surprise - just like a fox. His habits were also what caught your attention. His long skincare routine that you caught a glance of when the three of you had a sleepover, the way he eats his stupid fries and how his facial expressions speak volumes. But his personality is what got you and completely overtook you. His personality was art itself. Kindness that was natural and not forced, occasional shyness that flew through his veins. And you could go on and on. It was ridiculous how much this man captivated you. 

And now, the three of you are in your seats of Jisung’s car. All of you got bored at home, sighing and almost crying from boredom. Late night rides were something that all of you liked and desired when you got tasteless. So without thinking twice, you found yourself in the back of Jisung’s car, Jeongin by your side and loud music cursing through your veins. The mood was already set. You didn’t drink anything yet, but it was definitely on the plans for tonight. Jisung was the driver and master of the vehicle. It was his, and he rarely let someone else drive it. The night was young, but you already felt different. 

You raise in your seat, feeling how the air was hugging your body so suddenly in such a cold but freeily refreshing way. Even if you might fall into the abyss of roads and darkness, you wouldn’t care. The fresh wind that flew tangedly across your body made you feel like a completely shifted being, not caring a bit about problems or promises. You just stood, arms in the air, while the car's top was opened. 

The freedom you felt in the exact moment was too Neverland like that you couldn’t believe it at first. With the utmost energy in your lungs, you took a deep breath and screamed with such intensity that you felt even more free. With the screaming, you felt like all the negativity and positivity left your body in an instant. This is exactly what you needed. A moment like this in your life. Jisung, that was your car driver, blasted the music even louder. Very probably at its maximum volume, which was really loud. But, you didn’t care. You didn’t care a single bit. With the left strength in your lungs and with your hair flying in every possible direction, you sang. You sang your heart out to the song that was playing, playing in such a way that you suddenly felt like it was hugging you as a whole. You loved this song but listening to it in such state, it really amazed you. The lyrics seem to make way more sense now, the fees of the song were absorbed by your own mind and soul. 

The song was you, and you were the song.

When your throat started to burn and your body felt like passing on the road behind you, you decided to plumb back down onto the seats. With the car top closing, and you regaining your breath, the song didn’t stop. Jisung was still in his own world, but Jeongin next to you wasn’t. He was staring at you. He wasn’t twice shameless about it, either. When he took a glance into your eyes and locked his own with them, he couldn’t help but smile. You weren’t drunk. You didn’t drink a single drop of alcohol, but your experience that you lived through just now made you feel like that, but in the best way. With the looks of him and his stare, you couldn’t help but giggle. A series of giggles were coming out of you as the staring prolonged itself. Jeongin laughed himself too after seeing your state of happiness and daze that cursed through your veins. 

The moment both of you calmed was way more intense than the realization itself. Gazes locked, souls intertwining as they began to draw itself near. Without you realizing approximately, he came closer. 

And closer. 

He came so close that you were now inching towards him yourself without worrying about anything else. His lashes that were moving as his stare shifted, skin that was smoother than dolls’ one and hair messy in his face that were like silk itself. 

Without thinking twice about the situation and consequences, you closed your feathery eyes and inched into the final breath and proximity, immediately pressing your soft lips against his plump own. 

You were kissing Jeongin, and he was kissing you.

That’s something you never thought would actually happen but yet here you are, in the presence of your loved one. His moves were so Jeongin. Right but with a hint of urge. His smell that filled your senses and taste of ebony and sweet night that made you dizzy. Every move of his lip that showed something hidden bloom out of it as he walked the path of love towards you.

Hand of his own that was now on your neck whilst yours was entangled in his soft locks, not planning on letting go anytime soon. The grasp was tight but so good that it wouldn’t loosen up even if you wanted it to. 

A soft bite that caught you off guard and made you realise that his tongue was poking your lips. As a gasp left you, the tongue of Jeongin’s rigidly made its way to meet yours. You didn’t fight it, not like you wanted to anyway, and let him find his own pace and space. 

He was gentle, much like you thought, but his senses of lust and desire slowly overtook him. His force was now much more present and the kiss felt more powerful, meaningful. He was holding back but going further than making out wasn’t the best idea that you two could make in the moment.

You both slowly pulled away from each other and tried to regain your breathing as much as your realizations. You blinked and turned away, smiling to yourself like a dumb teenage girl after her first kiss, whilst Jeongin leaned back in his seat and kept his eyes on you. Furthermore, you could feel the little smile on his face, but you didn’t look to confirm it. 

“You’re unbelievable.” Jeongin’s voice immediately made you perk up and give him a small look before looking away in your own direction.

“Why so?” Your voice was low, much more shy than scary or teasing.

“You need to makeout with me before talking about us.” A blush creeped out and overtook your cheeks before you could control anything else. He was right about it but hearing it from him made it harder.

“So what does that make us?” You looked at him and made your question even more clear and straightforward. You wanted an answer and didn’t want to hear a stupid lie or something bothersome. 

“Something more than friends?” That definitely was an answer and you had to think about for a minute. When you were about to bombard your mind with thousand thoughts you caught a glimpse of Jisung’s stare in the mirror. He was smiling in a fond way and more of a relieved one, mainly because the problem of love was about to be resolved. He was happy for both of you, more than happy if he was being honest. It’s true that he didn’t know how the two of you will end up, but at least you wouldn’t live in a constant limbo of thoughts and options. Now, you’ll have a stand. And he’s joyful to witness a moment like this for the both of you. 

[kathlare]

bet u wanna

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando finds himself alone in the quiet of Monaco, wrestling with the emotions stirred up by Amelie’s album.

Wordcount: 1.8 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

July 18th, 2022 - Monte Carlo, Monaco

Lando shifted in his bed, glancing over at his mates who were sprawled out across the living room, asleep. Max, Ed, and Tom had come to Monaco for the weekend to visit him, taking advantage of the little break they had during the racing season. The house was quiet now, the only sound the soft hum of the AC and the gentle ticking of the clock. The guys had been in a bit of a rowdy mood earlier, but now, with everyone passed out, the place had taken on a calm, almost eerie stillness.

His phone sat on the nightstand, glowing faintly. He’d tried to ignore it for the past hour, but now, as the quiet stretched on, he found his mind wandering back to the same thing that had been nagging him for the last couple of days—Amelie. Her album, emails i can't send, had come out a few days ago, and the buzz around it was everywhere. Fans had been relentless, dissecting every lyric, speculating which songs were about him. The curiosity had been killing him. Everyone had been talking about it, and Lando couldn’t quite escape it, not even in the comfort of his own home.

He stared at his phone for a few more seconds before a wave of impulse washed over him. The thought of hearing her voice again—just for a few minutes—was too tempting. He couldn’t resist.

The house was dark, and the guys were sprawled out in the living room, so he slipped out of his room as quietly as possible, his bare feet padding softly against the floor. He snuck downstairs and outside, walking toward his beloved baby blue Jolly parked in the driveway. The car was just as much a part of him as the racing circuit itself. He’d had the car for years now, and even though it wasn’t anything special to anyone else, to him, it was comfort.

Lando slid into the driver’s seat, shutting the door gently. He stared at the stereo for a moment, almost waiting for some cosmic sign that would tell him this was a bad idea. But instead, his fingers hovered over the buttons, shaking slightly. He could feel the weight of what he was about to do.

Finally, with a deep breath, he pressed play.

The first song shuffled onto the stereo, and the soft intro to "bet u wanna" began to play, filling the car with Amelie’s voice.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, suddenly feeling like he was back in 2020, when everything had been so easy. The pandemic had brought them together in a way nothing else had. It had started with video games, late-night chats, and the undeniable pull of a friendship that had quickly turned into something else. He hadn’t been prepared for that—hadn’t been ready for her.

Her voice, unmistakable and raw, slid into the air, wrapping itself around him. —“Told me, told me, I’m your only…”—The words stabbed at him. He leaned his head back against the headrest, his chest tight. He didn’t want to hear this. He really didn’t. But he couldn’t pull himself away.

It had been over a year since they’d last seen each other. May 2021. The last time he’d heard her laugh. The last time they’d been... whatever they were. He hated how easily they’d slipped into this pattern, how quickly things had crumbled when Amelie got busy with Wicked and he started talking to Luisinha. It wasn’t like he regretted the decision he’d made. It was just... everything had felt unfinished with Amelie. The friendship, the connection, the things they never said. And now, the song. God, the song.

—“You’ve been wasting time, on the other side, if you’re satisfied... Touché.”—

It was too much. Lando ran a hand through his messy hair, shaking his head. He’d heard the rumors, the whispers from fans, speculating which tracks were about him. The curiosity had eaten at him until it felt like he couldn’t breathe without hearing her voice again, without knowing if she’d written about him. It felt like he was reliving a part of his life he wasn’t sure he wanted back.

His heart thudded painfully in his chest as the lyrics hit him hard —“Bet you wanna touch me now... Bet you wanna love me now…”—

He gritted his teeth. She was right. He did want to. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that it was too late. She had moved on. He had moved on. Hadn’t they?

The song played on, but Lando couldn’t take it anymore. He jammed his finger down on the stereo, the music abruptly cutting off. The silence in the car was almost deafening, and he let out a shaky breath. He leaned his head against the steering wheel, his hands gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white. God, this wasn’t fair.

He hadn’t even made it through the song. Her voice, the words—every line felt like a punch to his gut. He didn’t even want to know if this song was about him. He didn’t want to know if she was still angry. Or hurt. Or… missing him.

Lando sat there for a long moment, staring at the darkened street outside his window, trying to regain some sense of composure. But everything felt off. The cool Monaco night, the soft hum of the city in the distance—it all felt wrong. Like he wasn’t supposed to be here. Like this was something he shouldn’t have done.

The steady rhythm of his breathing was the only thing that filled the space around him, but it wasn’t enough to quiet the storm raging in his chest. Lando stared out into the night, watching the faint glow of streetlights cast shadows over the empty roads. It was a familiar feeling, being out here in his car, but it didn’t bring the peace he was used to. Instead, it felt like everything that had happened—everything he tried to forget—was crashing down on him in waves.

He couldn’t help but think back to all the times they’d spent together. Amelie, laughing at his bad jokes, sitting next to him while they played video games for hours, and then, when it all shifted into something more. Something complicated. Something they never quite figured out. She had always been his escape. The one person who didn’t judge him for what he did or how he did it, and he’d let that slip away. And now, hearing her voice, hearing her in a song, it felt like a reminder of how badly he’d messed up.

The worst part? He missed her. He missed her in ways he couldn’t put into words. But that was stupid, right? He couldn’t just hit rewind on everything. She had moved on. She had her family, her career, her life, and he… He had Luisinha. He had the chaos of his own world that was just as messy and confusing.

But in the pit of his stomach, he knew it wasn’t the same. Nothing had been the same since Amelie.

He let out a harsh breath, trying to push all those thoughts aside. He’d chosen this. He’d chosen to move on. And now here he was, sitting in his car, in the dead of night, mourning a relationship that had ended more than a year ago. It wasn’t supposed to hurt like this.

Lando stared at his phone, which now lay in his lap. He had half a mind to toss it out of the window, but something stopped him. His finger hovered over the screen again, and he saw that the album was still playing. There were more songs. More pieces of her—more words she had written, more stories she had shared. He shouldn’t listen to them. He knew that.

But he couldn’t stop himself. His thumb moved over the screen, searching for her name in the messages. He’d sent her texts before, each one a mix of drunken regrets and half-formed apologies. None of them had ever gotten through; Amelie had blocked him long ago, a decision he understood but still resented.

His mind was clouded, everything blurry and tinged with the pain of his own choices. His fingers typed out the message before he could stop them.

Lando Norris: I miss you so much. I just want you back. Just once more. I can’t shake the thought of you.

Lando Norris: Btw, congrats on the album. You’ve killed it.

His heart pounded as he read it over. It felt like too much, but at the same time, it was everything he’d been feeling for over a year. She’d moved on, he knew that. She had her family, her career. She probably didn’t think about him anymore. But Lando couldn’t escape the feeling of unfinished business. That there was something unresolved, something left unsaid.

He stared at the message for a long moment, wondering if he should send it. He knew it wouldn’t reach her, that she wouldn’t ever see it. But the idea of putting all his thoughts into words, of admitting what had happened, was more than he could bear. It felt like a small weight lifted, just letting it out.

But deep down, he knew it was stupid. Amelie had moved on. And so had he. He had Luisinha now, didn’t he? She was the one who stuck around, the one who cared, even if things weren’t as easy as they once seemed. He couldn’t keep holding on to this ghost of a past he couldn’t change.

Lando let out a breath, staring at the message one last time before he made a decision. With a deep sigh, he hit the delete button.

He didn’t send it. He couldn’t.

But as he sat there in the quiet of his car, the weight of what he’d just done didn’t feel like the end of it. The hurt lingered, thick in his chest. He didn’t know what to do next. All he knew was that nothing had ever felt as unfinished as this.

In the silence, he just sat there for a while longer, staring at his phone and wondering if he would ever be able to fully let go.

[idcbabyialreadylostmymind]

Hiii, heard u want op requests, how about an opla nami x fem reader where they get high together for the first time and heavily makeout, maybe they do like a little game where the first one to put their hands on the other loses and then at the end neither of them can keep their hands to themselves. Ty!

i literally love you

Moonlight

Pairing- Nami x reader

a/n- its not that long but i really like it 🫶🏻🫶🏻 its not too smutty but not entirely soft so enjoy (i thought about the song while i was writing)

.🍊

Looking through your lashes at the tangerine haired girl you seal the blunt with your saliva. Lighting a match you spark up inhaling the smoke travels down your throat burning in your chest.

Passing it to Nami she fiddles with it, almost unsure how to hold it. “First time?” You ask, grabbing hold of her hands, making her stiffen, and put the wood between her index and pointer finger. “Yeah.” She replies, forcing the blush away from her cheeks.

You had only recently joined the crew and Nami was interested in you, she didn’t know why but when she saw you were going out to smoke and offered it was the perfect opportunity to get to know you.

She takes a hit but doesn’t inhale coughing up a storm. Giggling, you pat her back, “It’s not gonna work if you don’t inhale.” You laugh, “Here, try it again.” You tell giving her the joint back.

“Just take a hit, breathe in really deep.” you instruct, “and hold.” she does as she’s told, taking a long hit before exhaling. The burn hits her as soon as she exhales. Once she’s done coughing she looks up at you watery eyes but a wide smile, “let me do that again.”

You and her take turns passing it back and forth. Half an hour passed and Namis' eyes became bloodshot and the more she looked at you the more her stomach fluttered and her thighs tightened . She never realized how pretty you were, how your eyes shine in the moonlight, your features illuminating your beauty, your body that of a god, articulated by the hands of creation itself.

Her mouth and lips feel incredibly dry but her panties slick with thoughts of you. “Y/N.” her voice is quiet as a mouse. She shifts up, “Wanna play a game?” Smirking, you turn your head to the side, nodding your head in agreement.

“The rules are we kiss–“

“Kiss..”

“Yes kiss but,” she says with a hint of slyness in her voice. “We have to keep our hands to ourselves. Whoever touches the other loses.”

“Okay.” You tease, pushing trying to see if she would really kiss you

Her mind was fuzzy. She didn’t know what she was doing but she crept forward leaning on her knees and pushed her lips on yours.

To your surprise she actually kissed you! You become a stoic statue statue, really you didn’t expect her to actually kiss you. But you stayed there letting her plump lips explore your own. You knew you held some feelings for Nami whether it be sexual or not you do not know yet. For right now you are feeling it, you are feeling her. You need her, you want her. She pulled away for air looking into your low eyes.

She didn’t know what to expect but she didn’t expect you to grip her waist and pull her into an aggressive kiss. She was sure her lips would be bruised in the morning but she didn’t care. She pushed harder, legs tangling with yours as you pulled each other closer.

Nibbling her bottom lip she opens her mouth to you allowing your tongue to explore her mouth. Once you pull away you’re both breathing deeply catching breath.

She smiles, licking her already wet lips. “You lose.” She says, wrapping her arm around ypur neck pulling you closer. “Oh shut up.” You say slamming your lips back to hers.

[luvhughes43]

say yes to heaven (track one) | tz11 x reader

cruel world [masterlist]🕊

word count: 2.1k

Rolling Stone

Date: June 28th, 2023

Growing up, Yn Ln always dreamt that she would become a singer. Her inspirations were figures well beyond her years, taking inspiration from the likes of great artists from decades past. Her melancholic style became instantly notable when she first hit the scene a few short weeks ago with her debut single, video games. Of course, none of her earlier works can be found on streaming services anymore, but her style has remained consistent over the years as she now releases her debut album in 2023. 

interviewer: Yn, your album “Cruel World” has become an instant cult classic for music reviewers and fans alike. But what everyone really wants to know is what, and who, inspired you?

Yn laughs lightly, rubbing her palms on her jeans before she starts talking.

Yn Ln: It was [pause].. it was a long process. I was inspired by my real life [another pause] and my friends' lives. A lot of things went into creating the album. I’ve spent years working on it. 

interviewer: Are you aware of the rumours surrounding the album? That every song is about an ex of yours? Trevor I think his name is?

Yn tenses briefly at the mention of her ex and swipes her palms against her jeans once more.  

Yn Ln: Like I said, the album was inspired by things I've gone through. I don’t feel the need to put names to songs.

She laughs lightly trying to ease the tension of the room.

Interviewer: Well, regardless, Cruel World is an amazing album.

Yn smiled politely, taking a sip of her coffee.

when yn hughes first laid her eyes on trevor zegras, she felt a spark. when she went to bed that night she didn’t dream about her favourite characters, or books, she didn’t even create perfect little scenarios. no, she fell asleep to thoughts of her brothers best friend. his soft hair, the way he glided the puck across the ice, his smile and enthusiasm when his team did well… yn hughes was doomed from the start. 

‘cause ive got my mind on you

i’ve got my mind on you

you didn't actually meet trevor face to face till a week after first seeing him. your twin, Jack, had invited him and a few other friends over to the house for the day. you laid in bed, eyes closed listening to all the commotion below before you decided to go downstairs and greet everyone. 

when you finally made your way to the group, you stood awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs. the wood chilly as you watched your brother and his friends play fight. 

“I’m trevor!” one of the boys beamed as he stepped away from the group of rowdy boys. 

you smiled softly in response as trevor ruffled his hair. “i’m yn-”

“jacks twin! right, i've heard so much about you! you know, i always wondered if it was true that twins had like, intuition? Is that a thing?” trevor rambled, his words fast and inquisitive, a habit which presented itself quite frequently. 

you laughed, nodding in the small breaks of trevors words as he kept talking about twins and their behaviours he had apparently heard about. 

when he finally stopped his speech, yn answered his first of many questions. “i mean i dont know about intuition but…” 

“trev!” jack called, “get over here, stop talking to yn!”. he was shaking an xbox controller, gesturing for trevor to come join their group of friends who were lounging on the sofa ready to play. 

“but he always seems to pick up on when i'm having a good time” you smiled cheekily. 

trevors face burned red and he rubbed at his neck absentmindedly as he looked you up and down. you watched his eyes trail, and you had never felt so giddy in all of your life. butterflies fluttered in your stomach until trevor broke away from you. 

“Ill uh- ill.. i’ll see you around,” trevor finished lamely, clearly feeling the same giddiness you felt as he sharply turned away from you and sat next to your brother. you stood in your spot for another second, watching as trevor tried to hide his smile from your brother. 

the house was quiet as you made your way into your kitchen for a glass of water. you had fallen after working on some music and you woke up dazed and a little confused.

you open the fridge, the little light partially illuminating the kitchen. a figure moves out of the darkness causing you to jump and let out a little shriek. 

your breathing speeds up, one of your hand coming to rest over your mouth as trevor steps into the light of the fridge. 

“Its just me!” trevor says, voice hoarse with sleep. he lays a had on your shoulder, watching you with wide eyes as you try to calm yourself down.

“what are you doing here?” you asked breathlessly as your breathing started to slow. “uh your parents let me and a few other guys stay over tonight” trevor explained, hand still resting on your shoulder.

“what? when?” trevors hand falls from your shoulders and moves to brush through his hair. 

“after dinner. you were up in your room playing… the guitar was it? It sounded really nice”

“thanks…” your face heated and you were so glad that you hadn't decided to turn the kitchen light on. 

“what were you working on anyway?” trevor changed the subject as he opened the fridge and pulled out a jug of milk.

your nose crinkled as he grabbed his discarded cup and poured himself a glass. “oh you know,” you shrugged your shoulders. you didn’t know why you did it but you never wanted to talk about your music. with all your brother's talents and successes, you felt that you choosing music was an embarrassment to your family even though you knew at heart that it wasn’t true. 

trevor must have picked up on your hesitancy so he shrugged, bringing his glass of milk to his lips as he took another swig. 

“milk?” you questioned, and trevor held the glass out for you to take.

“want some?” he asked, tilting the glass towards you.

“definitely not”

“it makes your bones strong and stuff, you should try it” 

“Trevor i've drank milk before,” you say sarcastically.  

“well yeah but like, you know what i mean” 

you rolled your eyes playfully, “okay fine give me the glass,” you reached your hand out and trevor passed his cup to you. you peered into the cup.

“its just milk it's not gonna hurt you” trevor laughed as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. 

you tentatively took a sip and when you finished you passed the glass back to trevor. 

“how was it?” “gross”

“yeah okay,” trevor rolled his eyes, leaning his head back as he finished the rest of the glass. 

you reached past trevors shoulder, grabbing a glass to fill with water. 

“well, im going to go to bed,” trevor nods to you as he sets his now empty glass in the sink. 

“goodnight,” you respond as you fill your glass.

“yah night,” trevor walks out of the kitchen and you watch him leave.

what the hell was that? you whisper to yourself, downing the rest of your water before heading to bed yourself. 

the next few weeks followed similarly. you and trevor would have these weird random moments, and you would both awkwardly smile at each other and move on with your days. that was until the boys decided to have a bonfire now that your parents were out of town to celebrate the start of the summer. 

you felt the warm heat of the fire on your legs as you sat near the pit with your friend. you watched absentmindedly as trevor talked to his friends before you felt the weight of your friend's hand on your shoulder. 

“you know yn, if you want him that badly then…” you whipped your head around at your friends words.

“what?” your eyes were wide in shock. you hadn’t told anybody about your growing feelings for trevor. 

“I’m just saying you’re not being really secretive…”

“he's my brother's best friend” you shrugged, your eyes drifting from your friend and back to the boy in question. He was nursing a beer he had somehow managed to sneak past his own parents.

“okay… what does that have to do with anything? hes hot” your friend shrugs. 

“hes also jacks teammate it just, it wouldn't work out the way i’d want it to” you expressed your reasons on why you couldn't date trevor and it sounded more ridiculous each time. you knew you wanted to be with him, and honestly, jack wasn't what you were worried about. you were more worried of the possible rejection. sure you and trevor had spent time together and talked. but majority of that time was when the two of you were alone. what if trevor doesn't want anything more than the private meetups? 

“how do you want it to work out?”

you fiddled with your hands, ignoring your friends question.

“he clearly likes you though, if that's what you're worried about” you hummed in response, lazily turning your head to look at trevor again. He smiled at you when he caught you looking. you didn't have the energy to look away. you knew then that you'd rather be rejected then not with him at all. 

let the fear you have fall way

i’ve got my eye on you

i’ve got my eye on you

say yes to heaven

say yes to me

“trev!” you hear jack call from across the fire pit, “can you go get us more marshmallows?” the boy easily agrees as he stands up from his lawn chair and begins to make his way inside. 

“Yn im thirsty!” your friend quickly says, pushing you up and off your seat. “can you get me a root beer?” she pleads, causing your brothers and his friends to shift their attention to the two of you. you quickly catch on to what she's doing, and you nod with enthusiasm. 

“does anyone else want something?” you ask the group as you slowly back away. Jack asks for water, and you nod before following Trevor into your house. 

the house was silent as the two of you worked your way around the kitchen. just as trevor was about to make his way back outside again, you stopped him. your hand tugged on his wrist and he was turning back to face you.

“trevor,” you breathed out, a little shocked at your sudden courage.

“yn,” he whispered back. you could hear the faint sound of the fire crackling and everyone's laughter out in the backyard.

it felt magnetic, the pull that brought your lips up to meet his. the kiss was soft and innocent. something that could easily be explained away as a spur of the moment thing. you refused to let it.

“yn,” trevor whispered again, this time painfully.

“trevor,” you were hopeful. 

he kissed you again, one of his hands coming down to settle on your waist as your arm wrapped itself around his neck. 

when you both pulled apart, trevor rested his forehead against yours, his breath slowing down as you both relaxed. 

“we cant do this,” trevor said almost regretfully as his head turned at the sound of your brothers loud voice teasing cole. 

“we can do whatever we want” you replied, ignoring all the background noise.

“jacks your twin. he's my teammate. my best friend. i can't just-”

“say yes to me” you blurted and your face heated up instantly. 

“It's not that easy-”

“yes it is. trevor just say yes to me and we can figure out what to do with jack later,” 

trevor seemed unsure of what to say for the first time. 

“What's taking you so long! damn!” jacks voice pops the bubble you and trevor had built not even a minute earlier. 

“sorry i couldn't find the marshmallows,” trevor mumbles, stepping away from you and towards your brother. 

“why didn’t you help hin y/n? don't be rude” your brothers voice seemed to pierce the quiet of the kitchen.

“he didn’t want me to help,” you replied quietly, reaching behind you for the water bottle jack had asked for earlier. 

“well that was stupid. she literally lives here z she knows where everything is,” jack responded cluelessly.

“Yeah, right, my bad” trevor nodded along with his words as he watched jack reach into a corner cabinet to retrieve a bag of marshmallows. 

I’ll put my red dress on, get it on

and if you fight, i’ll fight

it doesn’t matter, now its all gone

i got my mind on you

ynhughes

liked by jackhughes, trevorzegras, yourbff, and others

ynhughes ❤️

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yourbff hottest bff ever🤤

ynhughes love u

jackhughes “❤️”

ynhughes if u dont leave me alone…

[insta dms]

trevorzegras: I’m sorry about that night

trevorzegras: I just don't want jack mad at me yk? I do really like you and I shouldn't have just left things like that

ynhughes: what are you trying to say?

trevorzegras: That i'm saying yes to you

trevorzegras: and that i’m sorry

present day

ynhughes

liked by lhughes_06, colecaufield, yourbff, and others

ynhughes say yes to heaven, mv out now❤️ i love u all so much

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yourbff im crying real tears i love you so so much

ynhughes i love u more forever

fan01 just listened to say yes to heaven for the first time and it's soo beautiful

fan02 love you so much yn

liked by ynhughes

lhughes_06 very cool

[cinder-wrought]

I didn’t discover the Hastur Mythos all at once. Like a lot of things in horror, it crept in through atmosphere and suggestion. I first brushed up against it in RPGs that dabbled in the edges of the unknowable, games where the horror wasn’t in what was shown, but in what was implied. At first, it was just a name. Maybe a weird NPC reference. A scribbled symbol. An old play, someone warned you not to read aloud. Nothing that stood out on its own, not if you weren’t looking.

But I kept running into it. Or maybe it kept running into me.

Eventually I got curious. I started reading. Not just the games, but the stories behind the stories. Bierce. Chambers. Lovecraft. Derleth. I was trying to trace the roots of this unnameable god, but they never stayed still. It wasn’t linear, not like Cthulhu or Nyarlathotep. It was more like a pattern that emerges only when you’re not quite paying attention.

The stories weren’t connected by plot, more by mood. Disconnection. Identity slippage. Art that drives people to madness. A fictional play that eats your mind just by existing in it. And the thing is, Chambers never gives you the whole play. Just pieces. Just reactions. And that makes it worse. Because your brain fills in the gaps, and it knows exactly how to destroy you.

It's personal.

Intimate.

The madness is tailor-made.

I thought it was just a clever literary trick. A device. But then I kept noticing it. That sense of dislocation. That creeping unreality. I’d be reading something or watching a movie or walking around late at night and there’d be this flicker, like I’d caught a reflection in a mirror that shouldn’t be there. Something was… thin. And behind it, something watching. Wearing my thoughts like a mask.

I think what keeps pulling me back to this mythos is the way it frames horror as yearning. Most cosmic horror pushes you away. Hastur draws you in. The Yellow Sign doesn’t repel, it calls. And even when you know it’s a trap, you might still answer. Because it promises meaning. And in a chaotic, indifferent universe, sometimes that’s the most terrifying thing of all.

When I think back to the early moments, the games, the handouts, the symbols, I realize now that those weren’t my first steps into Carcosa. I didn’t know it then, but I was already walking the shores of Lake Hali, already hearing the King’s song. And that’s the way it happens, isn’t it? Not with a scream. But with a whisper. Not with a monster. But with a story.

And once you’ve read it, really read it, you are never the same.

Delta Green, especially, made the Mythos feel present. It didn’t just use the imagery, it asked what it would mean if this kind of horror existed in our world. What if a piece of fiction could rewrite your perception of reality? What if art and madness weren’t opposites, but neighbors? In Delta Green, The King in Yellow is a memetic hazard. A story that spreads not because of a monster lurking behind the curtain, but because the curtain itself is the danger. The idea that the world we live in might be a beautiful lie, and some part of us longs to know the truth underneath it.

You don’t fight it. You remember it. That’s the genius of it. It’s not coming for you. You were always part of it. The Yellow Sign doesn’t mark, it reveals. You don’t discover Carcosa. You come home.

What keeps me coming back to the Hastur Mythos isn’t the monsters or the horror tropes. It’s the way it blurs boundaries: between fiction and reality, between sanity and meaning, between art and identity. It taps into something human, the desire to understand, and the cost that can come with understanding too much.

It’s not about losing your mind. It’s about what happens when you begin to question what your mind is built on.

I’ve seen the faces of those who came before me. They are blurred, indistinct, but they carry the same hollow gaze, the same feverish yearning. They were the same as me. They all are me. And soon, I will join them. I will be one with the play, one with Carcosa. The script has already been written. The King is waiting. And when the final act begins, it will consume us all.

Sometimes when I write, I don’t remember choosing the words. They come in yellow. They hum softly. They wait patiently, like old friends. I think they’ve always been there, just out of reach, behind a veil I didn’t know was thin.

I hear the drums again. They are closer now, pounding in my chest, matching the rhythm of the Yellow Sign. The city’s streets are opening wide before me, like a gaping mouth, ready to swallow me whole. I step forward. I know what is waiting. I know the end. But it’s no longer frightening. It’s not a fall. It’s not even a beginning. It is simply the next line in the play.

The city is near now. I can hear water. I can see towers through the mist. The mask fits better every day. The lines are written. The curtain is rising.

We are all players here.

The city is open now.

The curtain is rising.

He is coming.

He has always been.

And you—yes, you—will know the final line, when it comes.

Do you see it now?

The Yellow Sign?

You’ll understand soon.

We all do, in time.

We have laid aside disguise. Haven’t we?

[sylvies-chen]

okay I’ve refrained from posting my thoughts on the ted lasso finale until now in the interest of making sure they’re expressed properly so that people understand how correct my opinions actually are. but I’m here and I’m queer and LET’S DO IT FOLKS:

TED LASSO FINALE THOUGHTS

THE GOOD:

Nate!! Nate was a timid, sweet note in this episode. It was such a gentle little reintegration of his character back into the team and seeing him get a secure happy ending after all that time of insecurity was the part of the episode that provided the MOST payoff. Seeing Nick Mohammed’s post about Nate and his family life and understanding how much he put into that character was so beautiful to see too. I adore actors who very publicly (and in a nerdy way) love their craft!

His conversation with Ted also made me cry like I have never cried before.

COLIN KISSED HIS FELLA AFTER A WIN!! Ugh such a beautiful payoff and full circle moment for him, I was truly squealing with joy <3

The team’s rendition of So Long, Farewell had me GIGGLINGGG oh my god, I’m a die hard Sound of Music fan so I loved it! I would have maybe liked a little more emotion from Ted, I felt like his reaction was kind of… meh? meek? but other than that the song itself was FANTASTIC.

Obviously I love that they won the game, duh

They also had a lot of really amazing and thoughtful callbacks in this episode, like Keeley’s parallel to her entrance in the pilot was great, Ted’s bbq sauce mantra, Nate leaping into Ted’s arms, the ussie guy, the winning play being the play from season 1. All of those little moments showed a strong attention to detail I truly loved.

I love that Rupert made HIMSELF unlikeable in the end. Rebecca didn’t need to ruin his life; she stopped caring and soon saw he was doing a perfectly fine job of doing it himself. Karma truly is Rebecca Welton’s boyfriend!! Or is it?

Jake the motherfucking client seducer over here turning out to be a total dud like yesss!! I don’t want Ted and Michele back together by any means but fuck that guy lol, glad to see she and Henry were getting sick of him

BELIEVE. 😭

Which leads me to…

THE BAD:

I know you all know I ship Tedbecca, but this is truly not coming from a shipper standpoint when I say that that first scene of them was absolute BAIT. It was pretty disappointing because I know Ted Lasso’s been prone to red herrings and fakeouts every now and then but I didn’t take it as a show that would truly bait their fans with something like that??

I don’t care if I’m biased, I don’t care if the writers were trying to be avant-garde with their ending for rebecca, I’ll say what I’m about to say a million times: writing off 1 of your 2 most main characters into a happy ending with a man whose name the audience doesn’t even know is literally never a good writing decision. I think this should be obvious.

I have no hate to Boat Guy, Rebecca’s whole thing with him was basically the plot of Before Sunrise + Before Sunset (all hail Richard Lanklater) if someone watched those movies and then tried condensing them into fifteen accumulated minutes of television

Keeley, Roy, Jamie… they did you three so fucking dirty my babes. Keeley you especially. I’m beyond disappointed, bordering on genuinely hurt, by how much they screwed up Keeley and all of her adjacent storylines this season.

I loved RoyKeeley so much in seasons 1 and 2, they had such a sweetness and a magic to them. There were so many elements like that to season 1 and 2 that I feel the writers gave up on in the name of growth or… honestly, at this point, I don’t know why they did this. Roy was a little insecure in seasons 1 and 2, but I never felt like he was needy. It felt so cruel to have shown us RoyKeeley in all of these moments of such stability, such healthiness, and such genuine love for so long and then rip it away for some version of Roy Kent that felt hollow, twisted, and who just Did Not Get It. It makes me so sad.

It makes me sad for Jamie too. Him falling for Keeley again was like the last thing I needed to see from his character. There’s so much else they could have done with him, and instead they took that beautiful moment of him being accountable and respectful with Keeley and the tape, and they turned it into something ugly: they had him weaponize it as a bargaining chip against Roy.

I don’t understand why they thought having our favs engaged in this very sexist outdated convo with such possessive language in the name of comedy was a good idea. I get it was poking fun at them but it was the kind of fun that shouldn’t have to be poked at by now. They’re not these men, I don’t recognize this version of them. It’s such a regression.

speaking of weird and uncomfortable shit being played off for laughs… beard and jane got married! ted wasn’t even there! she shredded his passport to keep him in captivity! how creepy! (see the joke is that they’re crazy and do toxic things to each other. you’re supposed to laugh.)

[jellystarsdrops]

― Spider and the Moon // Chapter 2 ₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

currently playing: awkward by sza

synopsis:  Uncle James suggests to Jefferson that Miles should work part-time at the roller skating rink to have some fun this summer. Miles reluctantly agrees, hoping to get on Lunella’s good side and not have a totally terrible vacation. Alas, it seems like trouble’s brewing in the city, and the two might have to become closer than they thought. . .

word count: 2087

ao3 link: 🌔🕷

a/n: this took wayyy longer than it should so I apologize for that! I got busy over the summer with a summer class and work (っ- ‸ - ς). Hopefully, I'll get into the flow with updating more frequently. Anyway, here's chapter 2! Shoutout to @sweeteaas with helping me with this chapter! You guys should check out their works!!^^ also kudos to my gf for being my beta reader :3 <3

“Okay Miles, right here is where all the skates are! We try and clean them every other closing night, although when we’re especially swamped…” Miles tried to pay attention, but Uncle James voice was fading out into a boring jumble of words. Sighing, Miles stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and tried to look as interested as possible when his Uncle glanced back at him with a grin.

Miles had gotten the news that he’ll be working at the roller skating this morning and was immediately whisked into taking a tour of the building. The rink itself was pretty impressive, he had to admit, with glowing neon lights and fluorescent decorations making a colorful display. The funky disco music drowned out the sound of skates on the rink floor, as multiple groups of kids and adults alike were crowded inside. It was summer after all, and the rink was a popular hangout spot in the community. 

Despite the energetic display, Miles couldn’t help but feel put-off and uncomfortable. His interaction with Lunella just yesterday afternoon was itching at him. Why did she seem so annoyed at him? What was with that look? 

The fact that he was now set to work with Lunella for the summer would be a challenge, put lightly.

Despite everything with Lunella, Miles decided to look on the bright side of things. Although he’d rather be inside working on his sketches or playing some video games, the thought of his relatives owning a roller rink was pretty cool since it was the only one in the town. Plus, the job didn’t seem too hard, he'd just have to clean the rollerskates as people came in and he could pretty much chill! This can’t be that bad, it’s only for the summer.

Miles looked through his playlist on his phone, playing a song and putting in an earbud before he started cleaning the skates with a slight hum. It wasn’t too busy surprisingly. Just a group of kids and some families, though it would probably get more busy when it starts getting cooler at night. As he cleaned, he looked up to see Lunella walking into the skating rink. Looking around she would notice Miles, freezing for a moment before walking up to him behind the skate counter.

“...What are you doing here?” the girl asked, surprised to see him at the place she worked. This was the first time Lunella had spoken more to Miles since he got here.

“Well, Uncle James told my dad that it would be a great idea for me to work here part-time… so now I’m here,” Miles explained, looking down at Lunella and studying her expression. He didn’t think Lunella would work here, though now thinking about it, he was now starting to remember Uncle James telling him that Lunella does maintenance on the machines or something like that, but by her expression and frown alone, she wasn’t too happy knowing that Miles would be working this her.

After Lunella stared at him for a moment, she let out an almost annoyed sigh as she put a hand on her hip. She tried to put on her best smile even though Miles could tell that it was fake. “Peachy…” She muttered through her teeth before sighing again, taking her backpack off her shoulder.  “Just stay out of my way.” Lunella told Miles before walking away from the counter.

Miles watched as Lunella leave, he shook his head as he continued to clean. As he did so, his mind would keep wandering to the girl. Why is she so rude to him? ‘ They literally just met the other day. He can’t be that annoying when people first met him?’ Miles thought to himself. ‘Well… Miguel did but that was different!’

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

After about half an hour of cleaning skates and handing guests their right skate size, Miles would be done. The rink started to die down, so he was pretty much done until more people started coming in for whatever event was happening tonight. Sighing as he rested his elbows on the counter, he started staring off into space and waiting for the time to go by.

That’s when an idea would pop up in his head: This is a good time for me to bond with Lunella since it’s practically dead in here. 

Moving away from the counter, Miles walked around the rink to look for Lunella where she would be found behind the popcorn machine. It seemed like she was trying to fix it or something like that, Miles knew little to nothing about machines but he was surprised someone as young as Lunella would be into things like that.

Miles waited for a moment, trying to hype himself to speak up and say something to Lunella but his mind was going blank. ‘Why am I freezing up?? She’s like 5 years younger than me! This is sad,’ he rambled on in his mind before his thoughts were interrupted by Lunella clearing her thoughts.

“Are you just going to stand there or is there a reason you came over here?” Lunella asked annoyed, sitting up from the machine as she looked up at Miles. She didn’t have time for this.

Miles huffed a bit, putting on the best smile he could come up with at the girl before speaking. “So!... Machines… I didn’t think someone like you would be good with tools,” he exclaimed, trying to make conversation with his cousin and get to know her.

Lunella raised her eye, pushing up her blue frames. “Should'nt you be behind the counter cleaning skates?” she questioned him.

“It’s dead as hell in here, I think the skates will be fine,” he chuckled. 

She rolled her eyes before opening her mouth. “Is it a problem that I like fixing things instead of liking what? Dolls and boys?” Lunella accused Miles, answering his statement.

Miles immediately waved his hands around to defend from her accusations, shaking his head. “No no no that’s not what I meant at all! I just didn’t expect it! I think it's kinda cool and really impressive that you’re good at that stuff!” he explained. “I can hardly put a vacuum together and you’re over here fixing a machine!”

Lunella was completely caught off guard, having a surprised expression on her face before looking away as she put some tools back in her bag and took another out. “..Thanks..” she muttered softly, clearly embarrassed by the sudden compliment. 

Noticing Lunella’s embarrassed expression. He couldn’t help but smile a little at her trying to not to seem happy about his compliment and keep her unfazed attitude. He found it almost cute and it was a sign that he was breaking into her tough shell a little bit. He just has to keep budging her. 

Clearing his throat, Miles decided to keep talking to her. “So what does Lunella Lafayette like?” he asked, tilting his head a bit. He was trying to learn as much as he could so they would get long during the summer.

“Well…” Lunella starts off, trying to think while she continues to fix the machine. She wasn’t planning to talk to anyone today and just work but Lunella knew that he wasn’t going to leave until she talked. “Other than this… I like science stuff… Reading, roller derby, video games… Superheroes are pretty cool I guess.

As soon as ‘Superheroes’ came out of Lunella’s mouth, Miles’s eyes lit up. That just gave him a better idea to ask her. 

“Superheroes huh? Cool, cool me too… SO! What do you think of that Spiderman guy in Brooklyn? Pretty cool that we have a superhero in New York, right?” he asked with a smirk on his face, knowing damn well that he was gassing himself up.

“Spiderman? If your definition of cool is ‘a huge loser’,” Lunella says so bluntly, not even turning her head from her work. “I don’t get the hype, he isn’t that cool.”

Miles felt like he was just punched in the face.

He never met a kid or anyone who didn’t think that he- Spiderman was cool. 

“What?! He is not a loser!” Miles choked, trying his hardest not to sound defensive. “He saved a bunch of people and is a g-great part of the community!”

Lunella would almost choke on a laugh, covering her mouth so she could hold it back. “Oh really now?? Yeah right with a lame suit- is he bleeding out his armpits?”

“He’s NOT bleeding out his armpits! It’s a stylistic CHOICE!”

The amount of times he heard that comment Miles swore that he was going to commit a crime himself. The boy was trying his best not to sound crazy or give too much away but he just had to defend himself.

Lunella stared at Miles for a second in silence, not saying anything, just looking as if she was studying. He started to sweat, fidgeting with his fingers a bit nervously. 

‘She… She doesn’t know, does she…? I mean she seems smart but is she smart enough to know-’

“Listen, I really don’t have the time to listen to some Spiderman fanboy,” Lunella huffed, pushing up her blue frames as she talked. “SOOO, I’d really would appreciate it if you’d leave me alone and let me get back to work...” The girl says before returning to work on the inside of the popcorn machine.

Miles stopped his rambling thoughts when he heard Lunella telling him to go away basically. He still didn’t understand it. He has to spend the whole summer with this girl and he wasn’t going to let her bratty attitude ruin this. “Man, what is your problem?” he huffed frustratedly, trying his best not to let his annoyance get the best of him.

Lunella would snap her head up to look at Miles, hearing the frustration in his voice and it was starting to make her own blood boil. “What the heck are you talking about??” She questioned him, crossing her arms and now focused on him.

“I’m talking about you being so cold! I’ve only been here for a day and so far you have been nothing but rude as hell to me!” Miles criticized her, finally speaking about what’s been on his mind since he got to Manhattan. Based on Lunella’s reaction, she didn’t seem too happy about Miles confronting her.

“I’m not being rude first of all! I’m simply stating that I don’t want you bothering me!”

Miles rolled his eyes. “Please, you haven’t been doing anything important! You’ve only been a pretentious brat.”

That would tick something off in Lunella, getting up from the ground where she previously was and staring up at Miles due to their height difference, her fist clenched as it was very clear on her face that she was fuming now. “I’m NOT pretentious OR a BRAT!” Lunella growled, a light shade of red being present on her face. She had been called worst before, but brat was where she drew the line.

“Call me a brat again… I dare you.”

Miles’s frustrated expression remained on his face, not changing an inch. He wasn’t going to take this, he was the oldest after all so he thought he deserved some kind of respect. He bent down a little to Lunella’s height, looking dead into her eyes as if they were having a staring contest.

“You… Are… A… Br-!”

Before he could finish his sentence, there was a loud commotion coming from outside as people started to flood into the roller rink screaming in a panic. This would put a pause into the two’s argument. As James and Adria were trying to settle everyone down and get them to relax, both Miles and Lunella rushed over to the nearest window to see what was going on.

Outside the rink, a villain was causing some type of havoc in the neighborhood. He laughed menacingly, practically destroying everything in sight with some bags of cash attached to his back. Seems like he had gone to the bank before causing some chaos for fun.

Now this is what Miles needed. Some action for his summer.

“Uhhh I’m going to goooo help Uncle James right quick– I think he’s calling me or something!” Miles shouted out before Lunella could get a word in. 

Running to the back of the roller rink, Miles changed out of his clothes, revealing the black and red spider suit. With the final piece being his mask, Miles swung into action.