#and you have the best scenes to work through

[3amfanfiction]

Picture Perfect pt 1

Lieutenant MacTavish confiscated your suggestive, racy photo when your then-boyfriend was waving it around, showing all his army buddies. If he then studied your picture and used it as wanking material for the next year, complete with a few domestic fantasies, that was nobody's business but his own; he wasn't hurting anyone. The picture was tucked away in a drawer, completely forgotten about until the day he came back from deployment as a captain with a nasty bullet graze and spotty memory. Cleaning out his desk, he found your photo again. He couldn't remember your name but he knew what you sounded like moaning his name. He didn't remember where you'd met but he knew he slipped a ring on your finger the night you both went out searching for the best garlic bread in the city. He wasn't sure if you had family but he knew what the silken clench of your cunt felt like around his fingers and cock. With all his unexpected free-time maybe he should track down his wayward wife. It had been too long since he'd seen you and he wasn't one to let things slip through his fingers. Whatever caused your separation would be dealt with, he wasn't going to lose you again.

3k words about Captain MacTavish finding his wife who he needs to re-woo. Nothing too serious, just a little scene.

His head ached as he cleaned out his desk, at least half due to his clenched jaw, muscles corded and knotted along the sharp jut of bone. Who did the brass think they were, putting him on indefinite leave just because of a bit of spotty memory. He remembered everything important! Everything that mattered was highlighted neon bright in his brain—the things that would keep his men alive, the pressure points of informants needed to complete the job. It was only the finer details that seemed to slip through his fingers like sand. What school he went to, when he'd graduated boot camp. A snarl crept across his face he gathered up everything in his desk drawer and threw it into a box. Talk about bullshit.

Slamming the drawer shut he turned to the next, scooping up handfuls of papers and knickknacks alike to be thrown haphazardly together, ready to be toted off home. He'd given up his life for the military and this was how they wanted to treat him? The first sign of something not going their way and they wanted to ship him off like trash. Like he couldn't do his job better than everyone on this goddamned base. Who had the longest streak of missions without a casualty? That's right, it was him.

Reaching into the back of the drawer he swiped around heatedly, looking for any remaining items he might have missed with his first pass. A smooth, glossy material met his fingertips and he pulled it out with an annoyed huff, turning to throw it into the box with the rest before taking in what was in his hand.

It was a picture.

A very pretty picture.

You were sat on the bed, suggestively posing for the camera, perched on your heels with a warm smile directed towards the lens. Eyes staring into his soul.

He knew this picture. He'd helped you take it, hadn't he? Or maybe you'd sent it to him? He couldn't quite remember the particulars but he remembered the photo. His pretty wife, all dolled up just for him in his favorite color. You'd sent it to help him through a deployment now that he was thinking about it. Something to remember you by while he was away.

As if he could forget you.

He slumped back into his chair holding the picture up to study it. Tilting it to keep the reflective shine off your face. Where was his wife at now? He knew he hadn't seen you for a while, but why? Why didn't you live together?

His head gave a particularly nasty throb and he tucked the thought away, refocusing. It didn't matter why you weren't together. He would find you and bring you home. He didn't believe in divorce and it was time to work through this separation. Plus, he had a plethora of unexpected free time suddenly staring him down. What better way to use it than to find an errant spouse.

Tucking the picture into his pocket, he started making plans to reach out to a few old friends. A name would be helpful but he was nothing if not resourceful.

\\\

You had just put the finishing touches on your dinner, aromatic herbs scenting the air when the doorbell rang. Wondering who would show up this late in the evening unannounced, you wiped your hands before heading to see. What greeted you was a mountain of a man with a flinty look on his face. A grown-out mohawk and bright blue eyes, weathered and creased, met your gaze before a slow smile broke out across his sternly handsome face.

"There you are, bonnie lass. No need to worry any longer, I'm home."

Without waiting for your response he ducked down to press a kiss to your cheek, his scruff scratching your skin before he pushed his way inside, letting a hand drag along your hip in passing. You shivered and shifted away, your mouth dropping open in shock.

"Wait—you can't come in," you spluttered, trying to place if you'd ever seen this man before. You followed him hesitantly to the kitchen where you saw he had found your silverware drawer and was taking a bite of your food hunched over the stovetop.

Watching him shovel the food into his mouth you observed the stranger, keeping a healthy distance between the two of you. You took in his disheveled hairstyle all the way down to his well-worn boots which he hadn't bothered to remove at the door. Asshole. He was already rude for storming in like he owned the place but to not have the common courtesy to pull his filthy shoes off before he tracked dirt all over your clean floors was beyond the pale.

"Better than I remember, hen."

Your eyes grew wide as you stared in shock at his audacity. "You can't just push your way into a strangers home and eat their food. Didn't your mother teach you any manners?" You mentally smacked yourself, pulling yourself back to heel quickly. Your mouth was going to get you into trouble one of these days.

"Ach, it's been a while since I'm talked with my mam. I hope you've been keeping in contact with her." Great blue eyes turned to pin you to your place, "It would break her heart if she stopped hearing from you."

You weren't going to even touch the double standards of that statement. Maybe if you were feeling a bit more sure of yourself but you felt firmly on the back foot right now.

"Why are you here?" you tried again, getting your thoughts back on track. "What is it you want?" Direct. To the point. You'd knows the man for less than a minute but you got the feeling he would steamroll right over the slightest hint of hesitancy from you. A wrecking ball in human form.

He paused, his hand halfway to his mouth loaded with another bite and gave you an obscure look, eyes glinting with something you couldn't make out.

"I'm here to bring my wife home, of course."

Of course. So simple. And it explained exactly nothing.

"Okay," you hedged, frowning at him. "I don't have her tucked away in a closet so what's that have to do with me?"

The stranger gave a mysterious smile before going back to your food. It was already halfway gone with the way he was inhaling it. A spark of annoyance traveled up your spine to sit with your shock and unease. You'd spent a good chunk of time making that and now you wouldn't even be able to enjoy it.

You'd really been looking forward to it too.

"Well?" you tried again. "Why are you in my house if you're looking for your wife? I certainly haven't seen her," and you wouldn't tell him even if you had. There was a indisputable manic glow coming from behind his eyes that made you wary. Some hind brain part of you perking up with a flashing 'danger' sign when you looked at this man who had commandeered your kitchen.

Scooping up the final bite, he dropped his spoon into the sink with a swallow and came over to you, reaching up to cup your face, thumbs rasping gently along your cheekbones. The way his fingers curved over the back of your skull kept his hands in place when you tried to pull away. "Just look at you, prettier than I remembered."

He did seem awfully entranced with you now that the food was gone. Eyes roving your face and trailing down to your stockinged feet before locking with yours once more. A small hint of a smile peeked through his sternness, a hint at brighter depths hidden behind the stone wall of his stoic expression.

Whether that brightness equaled kindness was still up for debate.

"I still don't know who you are or why you're in my house," you stammered, him finally relaxing enough to allow you to pull back out of his grasp. You took a shaky step backwards to put some distance back between the two of you.

"Gonna play it that way, are we?" he rumbled, his deep voice holding a bit of a growl. "All right. If I wooed you once I can woo you again, aye? I'm not above a bit of groveling to get you back where you belong." You were annoyed at the flutter you felt when he smiled charmingly down at you. Clearly a well-practiced expression on him. "Although you acting like you don't remember your husband's name is pretty hurtful. Are you a spiteful lass, then?" His smile changed to a there-and-gone smirk hiking up one side of his mouth, "I always did like them with a bit of bite."

You swallowed nervously.

"I think you need to leave," you tried, gesturing towards the front door. "I'm not your wife and there's no one else here so I'd appreciate it if you left." You tried to steel yourself, puffing up your chest to make yourself seem bigger and more self-assured. Hoping to dissuade him.

"We'll take it slow, I know better than to rush these things," he stated, dropping down to press a there-and-gone kiss to your forehead. "I'll be by tomorrow to fix that dripping faucet and then we can go for lunch."

Pulling your thoughts back into line you gaped at him. "Do not show back up at my house tomorrow," you told him, ire barely concealing the pleading lining every word but he wasn't listening. With a mockingly cheerful whistle he headed back towards the door, breezing out just as easily as he had breezed in.

You were left with a rumbling stomach and a quiet house, feeling like you'd just been sucker-punched. What just happened?

\\\

You weren't going to answer the door no matter how hard he knocked. You weren't home. Nobody was home so he should just leave.

Fretting on the couch, you glared at your entryway in outrage and uncertainty in equal measure. How long was he going to beat on your door? It already felt like it'd been going on for ages. You could barely hear yourself think with the way his hammering blows rattled the wood. You knew it wasn't the most secure and you were half worried he was going to take it off its hinges if this kept up.

You still weren't sure what happened last night.

After he left you scrounged up some dinner. Nothing like what you'd originally made but needs must. By the time you were finished you were beyond exhausted, the day's events draining you of every spec of energy. Deciding that you would deal with everything tomorrow you went to bed, certain that things would look different in the morning light.

What you hadn't counted on was tossing and turning all night, mind running a thousand miles an hour as you thought about your self-proclaimed 'husband' in all his glory. Why had he picked you to barge in on?

The only way you saw it was he was trying to con you out of or into something.

This whole 'wife' shtick could be a ploy he used with other unsuspecting people until he got whatever he wanted from them. This would hold a lot of weight if you had anything of value. Beyond a few pricey electronics there wasn't a whole lot you had.

And if he was trying to con you into something, well good luck to him. You were nothing if not stubborn and knowing someone was trying to pull a fast one on you ahead of time? You'd be able to dig your feet in until the problem went away.

But now it was noon and the problem was back at your house with no true plan in sight.

You didn't have a whole lot of options past hoping he went away. You'd rather not get the cops involved though you would if he seemed at all violent. You didn't have anyone who could come scare him away or talk to him for you. You were stuck hoping that he would get tired and leave. Hoping that he decided you were too much effort for whatever prank or ill plan he had hatched with you as the victim.

While your thoughts slowly spiraled you never noticed the pounding quieting before there was a rustle of bags and a scraping sound coming from the handle. What you did notice was your door suddenly swinging open, the stranger from last night standing back up to full height from where he'd been crouched, pocketing something in a swift movement.

"Salty lass, not letting your husband in when he's knocking at the door," he groused before brushing it aside, moving back towards the kitchen to deposit the bags he was holding on the table. "I brought lunch with so we could eat here and get to know each other again rather than going out. I don't much care for the stares," he gestured to his temple and the mass of scar tissue that furrowed from his brow back towards his skull. "There's a fantastic little deli not too far from my house. I couldn't remember what you liked so I got a few different options."

You could only stand and watch in dismay as he worked to pull food from the bags he brought, a well-worn tool bag set off to the side showed he planned to make true to his word from yesterday.

With the daylight and an absence of shock you were able to take him in, from his broad shoulders pulling at the cotton covering them—seams straining against his bulk as he moved around your kitchen pulling out plates and cups—down to his thick thighs, rounded and looking quite capable of running anyone down. You watched him do a double-take at the kitschy collection of mugs you owned before continuing on. In no time flat the table was set and he looked at you expectantly.

"Did you just pick the lock on my front door?" you finally gathered yourself enough to ask, still staring at him, not making a move towards the table. You kind of thought that only happened in tv shows and books, not in real life.

The stranger brushed it off with a wave of his hand, "Don't worry about all that, although we need to see about getting you some better security. You'll move into mine, of course. It's much more secure."

You did a double take at his presumption.

"You're joking. If anything I need better security from you."

This was ridiculous. What was the bit? What was he hoping to swindle from you with all of this? You didn't have spare cash—everything went straight to bills. Your apartment was decorated with items from the thrift shop, nothing he could hock. You had half a mind to let this play out—see it through to its end just to watch his mounting frustration.

"That's hurtful, hen. I know I've changed a bit over the years—got a few more scars than you probably remember—but I'm still me, aye? Still just Johnny, even though I'm a captain now." His chest puffed up on the word captain, clearly something he took pride in. You couldn't help the sardonic congratulations you shot his way, looking to stick a pin in his inflating ego.

He didn't seem to hear the tone you used and for the first time you saw a full, true smile break out over his face, nothing like the earlier smirks and half-hearted grins. It was shocking how much it changed his whole demeanor. Suddenly this stern, stoic man turned into a kid being complimented on their artwork.

For a split second you felt ashamed at yourself, that you could be cruel to someone like that, even if it was slight and mostly in your own head. Only for a moment though. You quickly remembered that he was in your house after picking the lock no less. It was annoying how easily he seemed to derail your thoughts and feelings.

He stepped closer to you as if he were about to sweep you into a hug, a loved one to share in a celebration with. You darted around the table instead, keeping it firmly between the two of you, wanting all the distance you could get from this handsome stranger.

You cleared your throat, "I'm sure your wife misses you," maybe you could redirect him? "You should go find her."

"Does she?" he asked with a quizzical smile, as if you were in on a joke together and he was playing along.

"Without a doubt."

"Well, I'll have to do everything I can to make sure she takes me back." With a jarring slap to his thigh he changed the subject. "Come sit down, it's time to eat."

You watched him warily for a moment, ensuring he wasn't going to lunge for another hug before hesitantly taking a seat. Looking at the food spread out in front of you, your mouth started watering like a traitor. You would be ecstatic at the offering if it wasn't your insistent pseudo-husband who brought it.

Pulling a dish towards you with a fleeting thought about poison, you let your mind wander to the sounds of chewing. What were you going to do? He clearly wasn't going to leave just because you told him to. He acted like you'd known each other for years

Maybe it was best to play along. You could act like a separated spouse and give him a to-do list a mile long to scare him away. You couldn't see another way out of this past being so odious and leaning into stereotypes hard enough that he got bored and stopped playing this unusual routine. And in the back of your mind you were worried about what would happen if you upset him by insisting too strongly that you weren't his spouse.

You looked at him, observing as he demolished his lunch. Hopefully it would wear the shine off of this spouse routine quickly. If he was picking the locks to get inside it wasn't like you could keep him out. Instead you'd wear him down, make him see that this wasn't really what he wanted and then he'd go on his way. Breeze out of your life the same way he'd breezed in.

With a plan firmly in place you took the time to enjoy your lunch. Might as well milk it for everything he'd give you while you were doing this and the food truly was delicious. He'd managed to get a little bit of everything so it was practically buffet style at your table. In no time flat you were stuffed.

Finishing your last bite you turned to look at him. Time to get started.

"You said something about fixing the sink?"

[borathae]

The Alpha Omega Series | JJK x f.Reader

“Jungkook is the son of the pack Alpha and therefore heir of the titel. You are an omega and utterly out of his league. This is the story of how, against all odds, you and he became true mates.”

Pairing: Alpha!Jungkook x f. omega!Reader

Genre: Werewolves!AU, childhood best friends to enemies to lovers!AU, Angst, Romance, Smut

Warnings: This story contains ABO dynamics, cursing and angsty themes, as well as topics of abusive parents, illegal omega trading and very sexually explicit scenes. Also, it includes Jungkook as a protective, strong Alpha which is the most lethal warning tbfh. If you are sensitive to such topics, I advise you read with care.

Chapter Count: 3/3 ✓

a/n: I decided to make a chapter index for Alpha!Kook because his universe is growing and we need a place for all of his stories. I don't want to talk about how hot he is in the header because I won't say anything decent tbfh

The Beginning - Alpha

“Jungkook is tasked by his father – current Alpha of the pack – to deliver you – an innocent omega – to your future husband, who purchased you through illegal omega trading offers and who is known to publicly torture omegas for sport. Problem is, you and he are former childhood best friends with too much tension to work through and Jungkook can’t stand his father’s disgusting business methods.” Genre: Werewolves!AU, childhood best friends to enemies to lovers!AU, Angsty Romance, Smut

The Wedding - Bonded

“You didn’t think that having Jungkook save you from an abusive arranged marriage by marking you would mean that you would have to marry him instead. Yet here you are. Bonded to him for life, with his father threatening to ban you if you fuck it up and with your marriage night one step away. It wouldn’t be that scary if you weren’t aware that his family doesn’t bond with omegas.” Genre: Werewolves!AU, forced marriage!AU, childhood best friends to lovers!AU, marriage night!AU, Angst, Romance, Smut

The Marriage - Scents

“Life as Jungkook’s mate is everything you ever dreamed of. He is there for you, he keeps you safe, fulfills all your wishes and fucks you to complete satisfaction. Life as your mate is, well, it’s how Jungkook always imagined having a home feels like. Because his life as his father’s son isn’t easy, but with you by his side, it finally doesn’t hurt anymore. When one night, Jungkook comes home feeling like shit because of his father, you decide to show him that he can always count on you to be his comfort and his distraction.” Genre: Werewolf!AU, True Mates!AU, Married Life!AU, Angst, Hurt & Comfort, Fluff, Smut

[thejujvtsupost]

It’s Always Been You

🍎F!reader, pet names: (pip/squeak, my girl, sweetheart,) suggestive but not smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, brief miscommunication and lots of groveling but it works out.🍎

Notes: I struggle with editing. This is totally separate from canon bc I’m heartbroken. It’s also my first lads fic, I’ll ALWAYS be a Sylus girlie but Caleb broke my brain for a minute 😭

Caleb joining the DAA wasn’t the problem at hand…No, it was the fact that you were going to be separated. Spending his last night before he leaves wrapped around each other like you always did when things were tough was the best comfort you could get.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, do you really have to go?” This was going to be the longest you’ve ever been apart since you were kids, and even worse, he wasn’t allowed to have his phone.

This wasn’t any easier on him but he couldn’t just back out. “I’ll be home before you know it, don’t worry too much.” Caleb brushed the hair from your eyes and held you closer, ���plus, you get to have six months free of my constant nagging.”

That was absolutely the wrong thing to say, the tears you were holding back finally fell. Your hands that were originally wrapped around his waist were now at his chest, between your bodies and fisted tightly in his shirt. “But I love you and your nagging!” You inhaled like you were suffocating. Perhaps you were, under the weight of his impending absence.

“Shh I know, I love you and being a pain in your ass.” That earned him a wet chuckle. “I swear, as soon as I’m home I’ll fulfill my promise and I won’t leave your side. You’ll never have to worry again, about anything.” A soft kiss to your temple solidified his vow.

It took you a few long moments before you were able to get in a proper breath and process what he said. “You made a promise?”

“Don’t remember? Hm that won’t do. Think back to when you were 18, and that boy you had a crush on rejected you and broke your heart.”

“I’d prefer not to remember that, actually.”

“But remember after? When you still hadn’t come home by dinner and I found you alone at the park?” Large hands ran down the length of your back to help soothe you while he spoke.

You’re still lost but it’s coming back to you. Confessing to your crush in the park was supposed to be perfect— except he not only rejected you, but he made fun of you. You could respect rejection, but the way he humiliated you and made a scene wasn’t something you wanted to think about. “That day was awful.”

“You were so upset. I wanted to beat him to a pulp but you didn’t want to be alone. Remember what I told you? The pinky promise we made? It’s only been four years you know, I’d hope your memory isn’t that bad yet.”

The moment flooded you then with a gasp, ‘You’ll never be alone as long as I live sweetheart, and when it’s time, when I finally graduate and become a pilot, I swear I’ll marry you myself to prove it.’ And at the time it made you giggle, because surely he was just joking to cheer you up, right? “You meant it?”

Caleb chuckled and lifted your chin to look at you directly, “of course I did, it’s always been you and me. Don’t you know that?”

A fresh wave of tears formed as you surged forward to meet his lips with yours- and stopped out of embarrassment before you could make contact. “Sorry, I didn’t- I think I’m just being emotional—”

But the space between you closed once again and before you could overthink it, Caleb was kissing you the way he’s wanted to for years. His lips were all consuming and tender. His palm cupped your face like it was glass and you couldn’t resist running your fingers through his hair. Kissing Caleb felt like home, like everything was right.

He tried to break away to bring you both air but you refused to let him, instead pulling him closer and closer until he was on top of you, spreading your legs to accommodate his size. “Slow- slow down, you still need oxygen.” You shook when he started dragging his kisses down your throat, letting out soft moans when gentle sucks were left behind.

“C-Caleb…”

He pulled back and grew tense as if he was afraid he scared you away, “what’s wrong, you tired?” He was trying to give you an out if you wanted it.

You were certain your cheeks were flushed, you shook your head. “I want… more…”

Caleb groaned and buried his face in your neck “you’re killing me, Pip.”

Had you said something wrong? “Sorry- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable… I’ll just-” you loosened your arms from around him, thinking you somehow embarrassed yourself yet again.

He stopped you. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. You’re killing me because you have no idea how badly I want you; how long I’ve wanted you.”

“Really?” Having someone like Caleb love you was the best feeling, but him being attracted to you left you wanting him even more.

Deciding to just show you, he ground his hips into yours. And god, it felt good against you. Just that little bit of contact felt better than anything you ever achieved on your own. “You’re-” hard went unsaid. He grunted when you spread your legs wider for him. “Yeah, I am. And if you want me, then you have me. But you can’t take it back, so if you’re not ready for that commitment…”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“This really isn’t the time for that—”

“Shut up, it’s important.” He sighed and let you continue. Your arms dropped from his neck to hold his face in your hands, brushing the stray hairs from his face. “That guy I had a crush on? I only liked him so much because he reminded me of you. So I’m yours, too. If you want me, then you can take me.”

Words were lost on him so actions took hold, “are you sure?” His kisses resumed their path after meeting your lips, the room grew hotter with each new brush against your skin.

“I trust you, Caleb,” you had no idea your neck was so sensitive, your gasps talking for you. “but I should let you know I’ve never done this before.”

“I’d kill anyone who ever touched you if you had”

“Isn’t that hypocritical? Should I hunt down your past lovers?” You worked his shirt over his head, the dog tag necklace you gave him mere hours ago dangled in front of your face.

He chuckled and discarded your top, your sleep shorts were next. “It’s funny how you think I’d ever want someone that isn’t you.” His revelation hit you full force: he loves you so deeply, there’s truly no doubt to have. “I’d never do this with anyone else.”

Two things happened that night: your bond was solidified, and unbeknownst to you, a life was created

The goodbye was brutal the next day, already missing him terribly before night fell again.

You managed to fall into a routine, though. You would go to work, occasionally spend time with friends— Tara spent the night with you at least once a week to keep your mind off of things; and the days she didn’t you laid in bed desperately wishing he would be by your side.

Your routine was solid, until a month into your separation when you were sick almost every single day. You were fed up by the time a week passed and the day after that you made your way to visit Zayne- who congratulated you because in his words, ‘he and his wife were expecting as well, perhaps they’ll be friends, too.’ Finding out you were pregnant without Caleb with you was difficult, there wasn’t a way to reach him and share the news.

But you weren’t alone anymore. You spent the time you felt lonely talking to your baby now, who definitely couldn’t hear you yet but that didn’t matter. You were kept company with a perfect blend of you and your Caleb.

According to the official statement released last week Caleb would be home any time today, any minute, any second.

The anticipation left butterflies in your tummy, your baby moving with your nerves. It didn’t occur to you that he might not be happy to be a father, that you might’ve been presumptuous that he’d be ready to care for another life so soon.

And when the door flew open, as much as you wanted to jump into his arms (carefully, of course,) you held your breath and waited for him to notice. And of course, because he was your Caleb, it was right away. His happiness and relief fell away to shock and— was that anger? You didn’t expect anger…

“Welcome home, I—”

“Who else has been here?”

“What? I mean Tara has been keeping me company a few times a week but that’s it.”

“What man has been in our home, pipsqueak.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, just a demand. He’s never been so terse with you…

His tone made you anxious, “No one, other than Zayne and his wife for dinner occasionally— Caleb what are you talking about?”

Caleb dropped his bag on the floor with a thud, still not moving from his spot. “I’m talking about the fact that I came home after six months and you didn’t seem to miss me at all, nothing like the way I missed you. How else would you be pregnant? So who is he? Someone from the Hunters Association?”

Oh… he thought… “Oh my god how could you think- I’d never cheat on you Caleb— EVER how could you even think—”

“Well, I certainly couldn’t have knocked you up in the time I’ve been away.”

A knife cut through you at his words, the accusation, the betrayal of thinking you’d ever be with anyone else. And how vulgar it was… Did your first time mean so little? Was it something he just wanted to get out of the way before he left? A sob escaped you, tears spilled over. “You’re an asshole, Caleb.”

His eyes went wide, “I’m the asshole here?”

“Yes! You’re a fucking asshole! I expected you to be shocked but accusing me of cheating on you? Thinking that night was nothing? That’s low. I can’t believe you!”

“That night means everything to me!”

“Ask me how far along I am! Go on, fucking ask!”

That stopped him short, “you mean?”

“SIX MONTHS!” Standing there while he dropped to his knees was barely satisfying. “God I can’t stand you right now! You must’ve lost your damn mind and all your common sense!”

His silence was angering you further, stomping off to the kitchen for a drink of water and trying to calm down was a better use of your time; crying from this much stress wasn’t good for you.

Once he gathered himself he followed you, “Sweetheart… you’re telling me that night…”

“Finally used your brain, did you?”

“I’m so, god I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” His hand reached out to bring you in for a hug but you denied him.

“Do. Not. Touch me.” His audacity made you seethe. No way were you going to give in so easily no matter how much you desired to be in his embrace and reassured.

“Sweetheart—”

“You’re sleeping on the couch. We can decide what to do later.”

His emotions began to overflow, the guilt crushing him; the ring in his pocket practically burning into his flesh. “Decide what?”

“Decide if I should even let you stay.” Your throat felt tight but you continued to hold your sobs back. “Your dinner is in the oven by the way, it’s your favorite so I suggest you don’t let it burn.”

A few hours rolled around before he couldn’t hold himself back anymore hearing your sniffles. You hadn’t eaten dinner, who knows if you had any water, and no matter how (rightfully) mad you were, you still needed to eat.

Grabbing a few of your favorite snacks with a glass of juice instead of the untouched dinner he put in the fridge was his safest option, unsure if seeing the meal would upset you further.

“Pip squeak? I know you’re awake.” Crouching by your side of the bed and setting the snacks on the nightstand, “please talk to me?”

“Go away.”

“You know I can’t do that, you have to eat something.”

You poked your head from the blanket, “oh so you care now that you know it’s yours?”

The jab was deserved but it still earned a wince. “I’d still care even if they weren’t.”

“How noble of you. Sticking around to raise a kid that’s not yours before I even have a ring.”

“Who said I didn’t have a ring?” This time you accepted the comfort of his hand brushing your hair behind your ear and gently cupping your cheek.

Curiosity was a bitch, but you weren’t ready to forgive him yet. “You were really mean.”

“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. So sorry. I can’t imagine you being with anyone else but I didn’t expect to come home to a family either— and I’m beyond happy to be a dad. It’s not an excuse though, never okay to talk to you like that.”

A few leftover sniffles came before he pulled a tissue from the box on your nightstand, opting to dry your tears himself. “Blow,” He said, holding the tissue to help you blow your nose; then offering you the straw of the juice so you could hydrate.

“I missed you so much, I thought you’d still be happy to see me.”

“I’m over the moon, actually. But I hurt my girl, gotta make things right. Think you can forgive me? I’ll earn it forever.”

“Caleb if you ever, I mean ever, speak to me like that again I won’t hesitate to let you talk to the front door. You’ll be out.”

“I’ll cut my tongue out myself.”

“So dramatic as always.” You rolled your eyes, “you mentioned a ring?”

A smile lifted the corner of his mouth, “there’s my girl. You sure you still want it? Or should I earn it first?” He dug into his pants pocket to show you anyway.

“It wouldn’t hurt your efforts.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle fully before presenting the velvet box to you, “I’m pretty close to the ground but if you sit up for me I’ll get on one knee.”

Sitting up to stretch was good for your back anyway, “I think I’ve waited long enough.”

The velvet box opened and your jaw dropped, “picked it out in Skyhaven. Gideon and I helped the elderly owner of a small shop with some boxes he was struggling with in front of his door. Knew it was perfect right away, gorgeous and one of a kind like you.”

“You’re ridiculous, but I love it.” He slid it on your finger and sealed it with a kiss, and you fell into his arms like you’ve wanted to for the last six months.

Pulling away after many minutes of hugs, ‘I love you’s’ and kisses wasn’t welcomed by you. “Now, how ‘bout some dinner? I don’t think snacks are enough, they were backup. Gotta keep you healthy.”

“Did you like it?”

You were pulled to your feet and carried out of the room. “Didn’t eat without you, sweetheart. Having dinner without you and the baby felt empty.”

“Good. You can reheat it then.” You waited for the perfect moment to drop your bombshell, which happened to be when he was carrying a full glass pitcher of water for the table. “We’re having a daughter, by the way.”

The pitcher fell so fast his evol barely managed to catch it before glass hit the ground. It left you feeling smug.

You couldn’t help but cackle at his shocked spluttering, “A WHAT?”

I’m so flattered, I’ve never had so many people interested or had a taglist this long: @pixelcafe-network @kentochronicles @sashisuslover @lunia-likes-pomegranet @elli4ever @mysssticc @kaemaybae @kamisatoaiko @midiplier @jamseashell @llamabois @boba14 @crimsonspring @angrychinchillanoises @ali-shiii @kazbae95 @ifistoptherain @c-I-stinnett @nephelesthoughts @etherealzi @jjoppees @keithkoganeirl

All divider credits to me @thecutestgrotto

[kashverse]

Imagine someone making mama reader cry and minisukuna is just roasting who man her cry’s ass, while sukuna is trying to hold back from murder

i didn't wanna make the mamakuna's reading this cry, so have a bit of banter instead. i hope this is what you were requesting for!

rule number 1 in a sukuna family barbecue is to kiss the cook—aka mamakuna, aka you.

rule number 1.2? only babykuna and sukuna can kiss the chef. no exceptions.

but the most important rule—the one etched in stone, the one more sacred than sukuna’s secret steak rub recipe—is rule number 2:

never. insult. the cook.

so when yuki, choso’s plus one, decides to run her mouth at the absolute wrong time, saying, “not gonna lie, this chicken is kinda dry,” there is an immediate, deafening silence. choso, sitting next to her, freezes mid-bite, eyes darting around like he’s witnessing a live execution. nanami takes a slow sip of his beer, very wisely deciding he wants no part in whatever is about to happen. gojo, ever the shit-stirrer, grins and leans in. “oh-ho-ho, you done fucked up.” meanwhile, you? you just blink.

"oh?"

it’s just one word, but it’s enough to send chills down the spines of everyone within earshot. sukuna, who had been manning the grill (read: standing around looking important while you did all the real work), slowly sets down the tongs.

his jaw twitches. his veins pop. he looks two seconds away from committing murder.

"who made the food, yuki?" he asks, voice dangerously calm. yuki, still blissfully unaware of the shitstorm she’s just walked into, shrugs. "i dunno, the caterer?"

sukuna exhales through his nose, like he’s actively trying to keep his soul from leaving his body.

"your caterer is literally sitting right there," choso hisses under his breath, eyes darting to you. yuki, now finally putting two and two together, has the audacity to look sheepish. "oh. uhh…"

but before she can say anything else—

"DODOHEAD!!"

everyone turns to look at babykuna, who is fuming, tiny fists clenched, eyes ablaze with unwavering rage. "how dare you," she huffs, looking as offended as if yuki had personally spit on a framed picture of you.

"i—it’s not that deep—"

“SHAME ON YOU, POOPIEHEAD!!” babykuna stomps her foot, dramatically clutching her heart like she’s a widow in a soap opera. "mama’s food is the best in the whole world!"

"i didn't mean—"

"take it back!" babykuna demands. yuki blinks, caught between disbelief and fear.

"uh…?"

"TAKE. IT. BACK."

babykuna’s arm lifts. her grip tightens around the precious stuffed labubu in her hand. and before anyone can stop her—

"oh, hell no," sukuna mutters, finally snapping.

"you listen here, you ungrateful shit—"

"okay!" choso interjects, physically holding his brother back before this barbecue turns into a crime scene. 

"yuki," he hisses, “apologize before you get us both killed.” yuki, now 100% convinced she is not leaving this barbecue alive, raises her hands.

"okay, okay! i’m sorry!"

"say it like you mean it!" babykuna shouts, labubu still armed and ready.

"i mean it!!"

yuki, now sweating bullets, looks at you.

"your food is great. i love it. i’m sorry."

babykuna narrows her suspicious little eyes.

"hmph."

after ten long seconds of dramatic silence, she finally lowers labubu.

"...i forgive you."

yuki exhales in relief.

"but don’t do it again, dodohead!"

sukuna grumbles under his breath, still looking like he wants to throw hands. but then you, grinning, lean over and kiss his cheek. "down, boy," you tease. "i don’t need you getting blood on my good plates."

he grunts. “whatever.” but he still sends a glare yuki’s way.

“next time, i will let babykuna throw the labubu.”

[casadepalermo]

I disagree. It’s an effective way to store memory bc it can literally remember what you’ve input into a piece of work so when you let it proof read your work it can catch inconsistencies or continuity errors.

Its a great way to find information as well.

Ex If you have a character break their arm or something you can get step by step instructions on the medical procedure treating and or resetting the break. This ensures accuracy and but allows the writer the ability to showcase a character’s personality and state of mind when they are in an certain type of situation or condition that is not normal for them.

Or you could just say “character A broke their arm and came back a few hours later with a cast” and skip all that

But I think the realism adds to the story and helps to define different character and characters

Then again I don’t primarily write fanfic but if you do you’re already borrowing someone else’s idea to start with so I really don’t see how that work is made would matter since it’s not an original concept

But on a serious and informative note there are ai applications made and developed for writing and even professionals will use them bc you don’t have to credit ai because it learns from everything you tell it and input in there. So anything that it outputs is considered your original idea.

I like to use it to help me analyze things. I’ll have it read everything I have written and ask it stuff like:

—based on their personality/history/habits (which I have to add to memory or tell it: ‘character a is brave loyal heroic, proud, confident, happy, doesn’t like heights hates mustard, wants to be the best at everything or the first do whatever’) how would character a most likely respond in this situation; would they do option a or option b (I put in the options).

AI will then say some shit like

—“if they do option a it will be a smoother transition and they will arrive in a shorter amount of time than option but

— if you do option b you can use this time to introduce this plot line (again I have to give it the plot line so it is in the memory so it can pull from it) or you could use this additional scene time to have a twist and leave a cliffhanger ending for your next chapter to emphasize the sense of “whatever” in your “whatever” character arch etc (one more time lol I’ve already input my chapter outlines and summaries into the memory so it can read through it)

So it’s kind of helpful especially if you want accurate fact finding

ai does not belong in creative spaces. period.

[doodleswithangie]

pre-slumber party

My @d20exchange gift for @swiftyscigarettes! A little comic of Fig and Ayda's first heart to heart.

[Image Description: Comic of Fig Faeth and Ayda Aguefort. The scene is from Dimension 20's "Fantasy High: Sophomore Year," Episode 10. Alt text is provided and copied under the cut. End ID]

Copied Alt Text

Page one: Fig is strumming her bass guitar on a couch. Ayda approaches her from behind.

Page two: Ayda leans over the back of the couch to catch Fig's eye. "I think Adaine is very grateful that we rescued her," she says. Fig gives Ayda her full attention. "Yeah."

Page three: Ayda pauses. "Uh. You fight very bravely, and-" Fig puts her bass guitar to the side. "Thank you! This was not my best work today." "Um…" Ayda climbs over the couch to sit next to Fig.

Page four: Ayda blurts out, "You are extremely loud and funny and charming and you talk loudly, and that's so exciting." Flattered, Fig says, "Thank you so much! I mean, I mean, you're really direct and analytical, and you kind of deconstruct things before my eyes and make me see them in a different way. And I really like that."

Page five: Fig says, "A lot of things I take for granted, you really think through." Ayda is crying tears of flame. Fig leans in and says, "Also you cry fire, which is awesome."

Page six: Fig continues, "And check it out!" She wipes away Ayda's tears, steam sizzling from the contact. Ayda smiles and says, "Ha, that's something we have in common." Fig smiles back, "Yeah!" "That's bonding," Ayda says, and Fig confirms. "That's bonding."

End Copied Alt Text

[dulcescorderitas]

surprising jensen

the bustling energy of the convention hall is almost tangible—bright lights casting a vibrant glow over rows of merchandise tables, enthusiastic fans chattering about the latest supernatural episodes, and cosplayers weaving through the crowd in their best trench coats and flannel shirts. you’ve never felt anything quite like it: a mixture of giddy anticipation and overwhelming awe as you clutch your vip badge tightly between your fingers, the word “guest” emblazoned across it like a beacon.

you’d kept your appearance at the convention a secret. a quiet favor from jared, who had been more than happy to help you pull off the ultimate surprise for jensen. jared, always the playful instigator, had grinned when you first pitched the idea, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he muttered something about how “jensen’s reaction will be priceless.”

so here you are, blending in as best as you can despite the occasional double-take from fans who seem to recognize you but keep it to themselves. it’s an unspoken pact among the supernatural family: protect the moment, savor the surprise. a few brave souls do stop you for quick whispers and selfies, their faces alight with excitement but careful not to blow your cover. you laugh with them, your nerves tingling, the adrenaline making your every word sharper, more vivid.

“what should i ask him?” you had asked jared earlier, lounging backstage in a makeshift green room, your legs crossed as you toyed with the laminated badge. he’d tilted his head, stroking his chin like he was deep in thought before a devilish grin spread across his face.

“make it dirty,” he’d said. “something he’ll have to answer, but won’t see coming.”

and now, as you’re guided toward the panel stage—security parting the sea of fans to get you in position—you replay jared’s words in your mind, your heart racing. the auditorium buzzes with energy as the panel kicks off, jensen and jared trading jokes and stories, their chemistry electrifying the room. jared joins him a moment later, his entrance met with thunderous applause. he’s all charm and winks, already working the crowd with his usual offbeat humor.

when it’s finally time for fan questions, you’re ushered into the line. the fans ahead of you ask everything from heartfelt queries about favorite scenes to playful jabs about bloopers. and then it’s your turn.

you step up to the mic, your hands trembling ever so slightly as you look up at jensen. his green eyes meet yours, a flicker of confusion crossing his face as recognition sparks, but he quickly masks it. he doesn’t know. not yet.

“hi, jensen,” you say, your voice steady despite the wild thrum of your pulse. “big fan.”

the room chuckles softly, but jensen’s gaze sharpens, his head tilting slightly. you take a deep breath and drop the question jared helped you craft.

“if dean winchester had to describe his…‘technique’ in three words, what would they be?”

the audience erupts into laughter, whistles and cheers echoing off the walls. jared leans back in his chair, howling, while jensen smirks knowingly. jensen, for his part, looks utterly floored for a split second before a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face.

“three words, huh?” he drawls, leaning into his mic. his gaze flickers over you again, sharper now, more curious. “i’d say…‘thorough, intense, unforgettable.’”

the crowd goes wild, the noise deafening. you’re grinning like an idiot, heat rising to your cheeks as jensen squints at you, clearly trying to place you. but the moment passes, and the panel moves on. you’re whisked away by security as the session wraps up, your heart hammering in your chest.

backstage, it happens fast. one minute you’re standing by the catering table, nibbling on a piece of fruit, and the next, jensen is there, looming, his presence magnetic. he’s still in his panel outfit—dark jeans, a henley that clings to him in all the right ways—and his expression is a mix of disbelief and something else… something darker, hungrier.

“baby,” he says with a low rumble that makes your stomach flip. “what the hell are you doing here?”

you’re laughing before you can help it, the sheer absurdity of it all bubbling out of you. “surprise?”

he’s on you in a heartbeat, his hands finding your waist as he backs you against the nearest wall. the tension crackles between you, unspoken words hanging in the air. his lips crash into yours, and it’s everything—hot and messy and desperate, like he’s been waiting forever to do this. your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging, and he groans into your mouth, his body pressing you firmly against the wall.

“you’re unbelievable,” he mutters against your lips, his hands sliding down to grip your hips. “showing up like this, throwing me off my game…”

“you love it,” you manage between kisses, your breath hitching as his teeth graze your lower lip. he doesn’t deny it, his hands roaming, his lips moving to your neck as your head tilts back, a soft moan escaping you.

backstage chaos continues around you—people bustling, voices shouting, equipment being shuffled—but in this moment, it’s just you and jensen, lost in the heat of it all.

taglist: @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @benscumgluzzer @wlovefromjade @cevansbaby-dove @gibson-g1rl @impala67rollingthroughtown

[oldsoul007]

7 summers

joel miller x reader

summary: After seven years apart, you see Joel Miller again, and what once felt like a fleeting teenage fling comes rushing back, forcing you to confront the love you never truly let go.

a/n: suggestive scenes, kissing, angstyish, fluff

joel miller masterlist

The summer I was eighteen, I fell in love with Joel Miller.

Not that I ever admitted it—not to him, not to myself, and certainly not to Tommy. Joel was Tommy’s older brother, and Tommy was my best friend. He was the one person in my life who knew everything about me, who’d always been there when I needed him. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin that. So, when Joel and I started sneaking off together that summer, I convinced myself it was just a fling, a secret I could lock away and never think about again.

But it wasn’t.

That summer was everything. Stolen kisses by the lake, his rough hands trailing down my arms, the way his voice turned soft when he called me “darlin’.” He wasn’t just my first love; he was my whole world, even if I couldn’t say it out loud. I wanted to. God, I wanted to tell him. But every time I opened my mouth, the fear of what would happen—the fallout with Tommy—kept the words stuck in my throat.

By the end of the summer, I was gone. Off to work, off to whatever life waited for me outside of our small Texas town. I swore to myself I’d move on, forget him, and never let myself feel that way again.

But some loves don’t fade.

Seven summers later, I was doing just fine—at least, that’s what I told myself. Then I ran into Tommy at a bar. Same grin, same easy laugh. For a second, it felt like we were kids again, back when everything was simple.

“y/n l/n,” he said, pulling me into a hug. “Where the hell have you been hiding?”

We talked for hours, catching up, reminiscing about all the trouble we used to get into. By the end of the night, he’d convinced me to come over for dinner. “It’s been too damn long,” he said. “You gotta come by. I’ll cook, just like old times.”

I didn’t think twice about it. I should have.

When I walked into Tommy’s house two nights later, I saw him. Joel.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter, a beer in his hand, looking exactly like I remembered—but somehow more. Broader, older, rougher around the edges in a way that made my stomach twist. The second he saw me, he froze, his eyes locking onto mine.

“Y/n,” he said, my name soft on his lips.

“Joel,” I whispered, my heart hammering in my chest.

Tommy, oblivious as ever, waltzed into the room and clapped a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “You two know each other, right? Y/n used to hang out all the time when we were kids.”

Joel glanced at me, waiting, and I knew he was asking me to hold the line. To keep the secret we’d buried all those years ago. Somehow, I found my voice. “Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile. “We’ve met.”

seven summers ago

The room was dark, the only light coming from the soft glow of the moon streaming through the thin curtains. It painted faint shadows across the walls, moving slightly with the breeze that didn’t quite reach us. The night was warm and heavy, the air clinging to my skin, and the constant chirp of crickets outside filled the silence. I lay flat on my back, my head sinking into the flat pillow of the old, creaky bed in my family’s lakehouse.

Joel was beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. His shoulder brushed against mine every time one of us moved, a gentle reminder of how little space there was between us. We hadn’t spoken for what felt like hours, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy. Dense with the weight of things neither of us wanted to say.

I turned my head slightly, just enough to look at him. The moonlight caught the angles of his face, his jawline sharp and his dark eyes fixed on the ceiling like he was trying to untangle some thought that wouldn’t let him go. I swallowed the lump in my throat and fidgeted with the frayed edge of the blanket resting around our waists, trying to quiet the thoughts spinning in my head.

“What do you think you’ll be doing in ten years?” I asked, my voice soft. It felt like the kind of question that belonged in a moment like this, one that could break the silence without shattering it.

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, like I’d caught him off guard. He turned his head to look at me, the corner of his mouth tugging up in that small, shy smile he did so well. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice low and easy. “Probably still workin’ construction, maybe startin’ my own business if I’m lucky.”

I smiled at the thought of it—of Joel running his own business. It felt so… right. “You’d be good at that,” I said, meaning it. “You’re good with your hands.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head like he didn’t believe me, but his gaze lingered. “What about you?” he asked, his voice quiet but steady. “What’s y/n gonna be doing in ten years?”

I bit my lip, my smile faltering as I stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know,” I said after a pause. “Just something far away from here.”

I felt Joel shift beside me, his voice hesitant when he repeated my words. “Far away?”

“Yeah,” I said, keeping my eyes on the ceiling. “I just… I’ve always felt like there’s something out there, you know? Something bigger. I don’t want to stay stuck in one place forever.”

There was a long pause, and I could feel his gaze on me even though I didn’t look at him. Then, slowly, I felt his hand brush against mine. My breath caught as his fingers tentatively laced with mine, his palm warm and a little rough.

“You won’t be stuck,” he said softly, his voice sure but carrying something else—something deeper.

I turned my head to look at him, our hands still tangled between us. “How do you know?” I whispered, my voice unsteady.

His eyes didn’t waver as they held mine, dark and steady. “’Cause you’re different, y/n. You’ve got somethin’—a spark or somethin’. You’re meant for more than this little town.”

His words hit me in a way I wasn’t prepared for, filling me with equal parts hope and fear. I wanted to believe him—to believe that I was different, that I was meant for something more. But the thought of leaving, of leaving him, made my chest ache.

“What if I don’t want to leave everything behind?” I asked, my voice so soft I wasn’t sure he’d hear it.

Joel’s expression softened, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of my hand. “Then don’t,” he said simply. “But don’t let anyone hold you back, either. Not me, not Tommy… no one.”

His words settled over me, heavy and full of meaning. He was giving me permission, I realized—not that I needed it, but it still felt like he was handing me something. Something I wasn’t sure I could take.

I turned my gaze back to the ceiling, my throat tight and my heart pounding. There were a thousand things I wanted to say to him, things I couldn’t untangle from the knot of feelings twisting inside me. I didn’t want to leave him. He was the one thing that made staying feel worth it.

But I didn’t say any of that.

Instead, I squeezed his hand, letting the silence take over again. It stretched between us, thick with everything we weren’t saying, everything we might never say.

Joel didn’t pull away, and neither did I. We just lay there, our hands still tangled together, the weight of the moment pressing down on us as the warm summer night carried on.

The smell of grilled steak and warm buttered rolls filled Tommy’s kitchen, a scent so familiar it made my chest ache. It was the kind of meal I’d had a hundred times at the Miller house, back when summer nights were spent on their back porch, laughing over cold beers and fireflies.

I hadn’t expected to feel so at home here after all these years. But I also hadn’t expected Joel to be sitting across the table from me, looking at me like I was some kind of ghost from his past.

It had been seven summers since I last saw him—since I left. Seven years of growing up, of moving on, or at least trying to. But sitting here now, it felt like no time had passed at all.

“So,” Tommy said, leaning back in his chair as he nursed a beer. “Y/n, what the hell have you been up to? Feels like forever since we’ve seen you.”

I smiled, shrugging slightly. “Oh, you know. Work, life. Moved around a little, but I’m back now.”

Joel, who had been quiet most of the night, finally spoke up. His voice was lower, rougher than I remembered, like time had left its mark on him. “Didn’t think you’d ever come back.”

His words weren’t harsh, but there was something underneath them—something I couldn’t quite place.

“Neither did I,” I admitted, meeting his gaze. “Guess life doesn’t always go the way you think it will.”

Joel scoffed, shaking his head as he cut into his steak. “Ain’t that the truth.”

Tommy grinned, oblivious to the tension thickening between us. “Well, now that you’re back, maybe we can finally convince you to stick around for good this time.”

I gave a small laugh, but before I could answer, Joel spoke again. “Surprised you ain’t married yet.”

I blinked, caught off guard. His tone wasn’t teasing—if anything, he sounded genuinely curious.

“Yeah,” Tommy chimed in, smirking. “I figured some poor guy would’ve snatched you up by now.”

I rolled my eyes at Tommy’s comment, but it was Joel’s reaction I was focused on. His fork was still in his hand, his knuckles just a little too tight around it, his eyes steady on me like he was waiting for an answer.

“Guess I just haven’t found the right guy,” I said finally, keeping my voice light.

Joel’s jaw tightened slightly. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead, he just nodded, his gaze flickering away as he took a slow sip of his beer.

I felt my stomach twist. There were a hundred things I wanted to ask him, a hundred things I wanted to say, but none of them felt safe—not here, not with Tommy sitting between us, completely unaware of the unspoken history filling the room.

“So what about you?” I asked, tilting my head. “Married yet?”

Joel let out a breath of a laugh, shaking his head. “Nope”

I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t.

And just like that, the conversation moved on, Tommy rambling about something from work, and I forced myself to laugh along, to pretend like my heart wasn’t pounding, like Joel’s words—and the look in his eyes—hadn’t completely thrown me off balance.

But I could feel it.

That pull. That thing between us that had never really gone away.

And by the way Joel kept sneaking glances at me across the table, I knew he felt it too.

Dinner stretched on, filled with Tommy’s easy conversation and the occasional laugh, but I barely heard any of it. My mind was stuck on Joel—on the way he kept glancing at me, on the weight behind his words, on the tension that hummed between us like a live wire.

It felt like the past was pressing in on us, slipping through the cracks of time as if the last seven years had been nothing more than a breath between moments.

When the plates were cleared and Tommy started rambling about a game he wanted to watch, Joel stood, grabbing a beer from the fridge. He hesitated for a second, then looked over at me.

“Come out back with me?” His voice was casual, but his eyes told a different story.

I shouldn’t have gone. I should’ve made an excuse, said my goodbyes, and walked out that door before I let myself slip any further into something I wasn’t sure I could handle.

But I nodded anyway.

I followed him through the screen door onto the back porch, the night air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and warm summer air. The old wooden planks creaked under our weight as we stepped out, the sound familiar in a way that made my chest ache.

Joel leaned against the railing, taking a slow sip of his beer as he looked out at the yard. I stood beside him, hands gripping the edge of the wood, waiting for him to speak.

After a long pause, he exhaled and said, “Didn’t think I’d ever see you sittin’ at our dinner table again.”

His voice was softer now, quieter—just for me.

I swallowed, staring down at my hands. “Didn’t think I would be, either.”

He was quiet again, then he asked, “Why’d you come back?”

I let out a slow breath, watching the way the fireflies blinked lazily across the yard. “Needed a reset,” I admitted. “Life didn’t exactly turn out how I thought it would.”

Joel hummed, like he understood that better than he wanted to admit. “You runnin’ from somethin’?”

I hesitated before answering, because maybe, deep down, I was. But not in the way he thought.

“Not running,” I said carefully. “Just… trying to figure things out.”

Joel nodded like he got it, his fingers tapping absently against the neck of his beer bottle. He looked over at me then, his eyes dark under the dim glow of the porch light. “Seven years, y/n. That’s a long fucking time.”

I met his gaze, my throat tightening. “Yeah,” I whispered. “It is.”

Another pause stretched between us, thick and heavy. Then, so softly I almost didn’t hear it, Joel said, “I missed you.”

The words knocked the breath right out of me.

I turned to fully face him, my heart hammering in my chest. “Joel…”

He shook his head, setting his beer down on the railing before rubbing a hand over his jaw. “You don’t gotta say anything. Just—” He exhaled sharply, like he was fighting some internal battle. “Hell… It’s just… weird, you know? Havin’ you here again.”

I nodded, because it was weird. It was terrifying. It was everything I hadn’t let myself feel in years rushing back all at once.

“I missed you too,” I admitted, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Joel’s eyes flickered with something—something deep and unreadable. His fingers curled around the railing, his knuckles flexing like he was holding something back.

I should’ve walked away then. I should’ve let the moment pass before it became something bigger, something neither of us could take back.

But I didn’t.

Because the truth was, I didn’t want to.

And judging by the way Joel was looking at me, like he was seconds away from breaking, neither did he.

The night stretched thick between us, heavy with words we weren’t saying, with memories pressing in like ghosts we couldn’t shake. Joel was still gripping the railing, his fingers tightening and loosening like he was trying to talk himself out of something.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to.

“Feels like a lifetime ago,” he finally murmured, eyes still locked on me. “You and me. Sneakin’ around, swearin’ we weren’t—” He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “—feelin’ things we both knew damn well we were.”

His words hit deep, settling somewhere behind my ribs. Because that was the truth, wasn’t it? We had never admitted what we were, never spoken those words out loud, and yet, we both had known.

I swallowed, forcing my voice to stay steady. “We were just kids.”

Joel turned toward me then, slow and deliberate. “That what you tell yourself?”

I didn’t answer, because we both knew the truth. We hadn’t been just kids. Maybe we were young, maybe we didn’t know how to say it back then, but it had been real. As real as anything I’d ever felt.

Joel took a step closer, not enough to touch me, but enough that I could feel the warmth of him, could smell the mix of beer and cedarwood that clung to his skin.

“You happy?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more careful.

The question caught me off guard, not because it was unexpected, but because I wasn’t sure how to answer it.

I looked up at him, at the way the years had settled into him—lines at the corners of his eyes, a little more weight in his stance, a quiet kind of tiredness in his gaze. But underneath it all, he was still Joel. Still the boy who once laid beside me on a summer night, our fingers laced together, talking about the future like it was something we had all the time in the world to figure out.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Are you?”

Joel exhaled, his jaw clenching just slightly before he shook his head. “No”

The word settled between us, bare and unguarded.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The sounds of the night filled the silence—distant laughter from inside, the low hum of crickets, the creak of the porch as Joel shifted closer.

Then, softly, like he wasn’t sure he had the right to ask, he said, “You ever think about it?”

I knew exactly what he meant.

I wet my lips, my heart pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it. “Think about what?”

Joel’s gaze dipped down to my mouth for half a second before coming back up. His voice was lower now, rougher.

“Us.”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

Joel took another step, and this time, he was close enough that I could feel the heat of him, could see the way his breathing had slowed like he was holding something back.

“I think about it all the damn time,” he admitted. “What it would’ve been like if you stayed. If I—” He stopped himself, his hand flexing at his side before he finally met my gaze again. “If I hadn’t let you leave without sayin’ somethin’ real.”

I felt my breath hitch.

seven summers ago

The morning air was crisp for late August, the kind of cool that hinted at the coming fall. The sun hadn’t quite broken through the haze yet, and the lake behind Tommy’s house was still and gray, like it was holding its breath. My car was packed, the trunk stuffed to the brim with clothes, books, and the small reminders of home I couldn’t bear to leave behind.

Tommy leaned against the side of my car, his arms crossed and his usual cocky grin nowhere to be found. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him look this serious. His dark hair was a mess, like he hadn’t bothered to brush it, and his shirt was wrinkled from where he’d probably pulled it off the floor.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” he asked, his voice low and unusually hesitant.

“Yeah,” I said, though my voice wavered. “I think so.”

He shook his head, a small smile breaking through. “You’ve been talking about leaving since we were ten. If anyone’s ready, it’s you.”

I tried to smile back, but my chest ached too much to manage it. “Doesn’t make it any easier,” I admitted.

Tommy’s grin softened, and he stepped forward, pulling me into a hug that was tighter than I expected. He smelled like summer—grass, lake water, and a hint of the cheap cologne he always overused.

“Don’t forget about us little people when you’re out there changing the world, alright?” he said, his voice muffled against my hair.

I laughed, but it came out watery. “I could never forget you, Tommy. You wouldn’t let me.”

“Damn right,” he said, pulling back. His eyes were suspiciously shiny, but he blinked fast and didn’t let it show. “Call me, okay? I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night. I wanna hear about everything—college parties, classes, annoying roommates, all of it.”

“Promise,” I said, my voice thick.

He stepped back, giving me a mock salute before wandering toward the house. And that’s when I saw Joel.

He was standing on the porch, leaning against one of the wooden beams like he’d been there the whole time. He wasn’t smiling, wasn’t moving, just watching me with an expression I couldn’t read. His dark eyes locked on mine, and for a second, it felt like the whole world had gone still.

I hesitated, my chest tightening as I took a shaky breath and forced myself to walk toward him. The porch creaked under my weight, and when I stopped in front of him, he straightened, his hands shoved into the pockets of his worn jeans.

“Didn’t think you’d come say goodbye,” I said softly, my voice catching in my throat.

Joel’s jaw tightened, and he glanced away, staring out at the lake like it held the answer to whatever he was struggling with. “’Course I’d come,” he said after a long moment, his voice low and rough. “Wouldn’t let you leave without it.”

I swallowed hard, my hands curling into fists at my sides to keep from reaching for him. “I’ll miss you,” I said, the words barely above a whisper.

His gaze snapped back to mine, and for a second, I thought he might say something—something I’d been waiting to hear for what felt like forever. His mouth opened, but then he closed it, his shoulders stiffening as if he’d talked himself out of it.

“Don’t let anyone hold you back,” he said instead, his voice steady but distant. “Not me, not Tommy… no one.”

The words hit me like a punch to the chest. They were the same ones he’d said to me that night at the lake house, the same ones that had stayed with me long after the summer ended.

I wanted to scream at him, to shake him, to tell him that he wasn’t holding me back—he was the only thing making it hard to leave. But I couldn’t. The words stuck in my throat, too tangled up in everything I felt for him to come out right.

Instead, I nodded, blinking hard against the tears threatening to spill. “Take care of Tommy for me,” I said, my voice trembling.

Joel’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Always.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that stretched so long it felt unbearable. Then, before I could second-guess myself, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him.

For a moment, he didn’t move, and I thought he might pull away. But then his arms came around me, strong and steady, holding me tighter than I’d expected. I buried my face in his chest, breathing him in—sawdust, sweat, and the faint trace of cologne he only wore when he had to.

I wanted to stay there forever, to let the rest of the world disappear, but I couldn’t. I pulled back, my hands lingering on his arms for just a moment before I let them fall to my sides.

“Goodbye, Joel,” I said, my voice barely steady.

He didn’t say anything, just nodded, his dark eyes heavy with something I couldn’t name.

I turned and walked to my car, my chest aching with every step. As I slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, I glanced in the rearview mirror. Joel was still standing on the porch, his hands shoved in his pockets, watching me drive away.

I didn’t look back again. If I had, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to leave.

“You think it would’ve changed anything?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Joel’s throat bobbed. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He ran a hand over his face, letting out a breath like he was fighting with himself. “But I do know one thing.”

“What?”

He lifted his hand, hesitant at first, then finally brushed his fingers along my arm, his touch featherlight but enough to send a shiver up my spine.

“I ain’t ever felt nothin’ like I felt with you,” he murmured. “Not before. Not after.”

I sucked in a shaky breath, my body swaying toward his before I could stop it.

“Joel…”

He shook his head, his hand trailing down my arm until his fingers barely skimmed mine. “Tell me you don’t feel it,” he said, voice rough and strained. “Tell me you don’t feel like we lost somethin’ we weren’t supposed to.”

I wanted to lie. Wanted to say that I had moved on, that whatever we had back then was just young and reckless, something that wasn't meant to last.

But I couldn't.

Because I did feel it.

I felt it in the way my chest ached just looking at him, in the way his touch still sent a shiver down my spine, in the way every moment we spent apart felt like time wasted.

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling slightly under his. "I can't tell you that," | whispered.

Joel's breath caught, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around mine, like he was holding onto something he wasn't ready to let go of.

For a long moment, neither of us moved. The air between us was thick, humming with something too strong to ignore, too real to pretend wasn't there.

The air between Joel and I crackled with so much unspoken tension, it was almost unbearable. My heart pounded against my chest, every nerve alight with the pull between us, but neither of us moved. We were so close, I could feel the warmth of his breath on my lips, his hands lingering on my waist as if he were just waiting for me to make the next move. And I almost did.

But before I could, the sound of the screen door creaked behind us.

“Hey, you guys coming back in?” Tommy called out from the doorway, his voice loud and clueless as ever. “I got that game on, and I’m not drinking alone out here.”

I froze, every muscle in my body locking up, and for a split second, it felt like the world had just stopped. Joel pulled back, almost imperceptibly, his hands still resting on my waist but no longer holding me so tightly. We both turned toward the door, where Tommy was standing with a grin, completely unaware of what had almost happened.

Joel cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly as he took a half step back. “Yeah, we’ll be right in,” he called back to Tommy, his voice rough, like he was trying to hide the tension that had just exploded between us.

Tommy, oblivious to everything that had just passed between us, gave a lazy wave and turned back inside. “Don’t take too long, man! You know I need company for the game.”

I watched him disappear into the house, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft thud. A long, silent moment passed between Joel and me, and I could almost hear the words that neither of us was willing to say. But we both knew it—what had just happened. What had almost happened. It hung between us like a heavy fog, and yet, neither of us moved to bridge the gap.

Joel was the first to break the silence, his voice low and rough. “Guess that’s our cue.”

I nodded, my throat tight as I tried to process everything. The heat between us hadn’t gone away, not even with Tommy’s interruption. If anything, it only made it stronger. But now, standing here with Joel so close, with everything hanging in the air, I wasn’t sure where to go from here.

“Yeah,” I managed to say, my voice shaky. “Guess it is.”

Joel let out a breath, running a hand through his hair, the familiar gesture that always made him look like the same guy from years ago. He didn’t seem as certain as he had just moments before. There was hesitation now, uncertainty.

He gave a short nod, turning toward the door. “Come on. Let’s not keep Tommy waiting.”

I followed him back inside, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on me. The door swung shut behind us, and we both slipped back into the routine of being around Tommy, pretending like nothing had changed.

But it had.

I could feel it in the way Joel’s eyes lingered on me when he thought I wasn’t looking, in the way my chest tightened every time he spoke, like I was trying to hold myself together while something deeper, something real, threatened to spill out.

I wasn’t sure how we were going to handle this. How we were supposed to go back to the way things were. But for now, we were both content to pretend. Pretend that everything was fine, that Tommy hadn’t just unknowingly interrupted something that could change everything.

I stepped out onto the porch, the cool night air brushing against my skin, but my body still felt warm from the tension that lingered between us. I hadn’t expected things to go the way they had tonight—especially not after so much time had passed. But there was no denying it. The pull I felt toward Joel had never truly gone away.

“Let me give you a ride home,” Joel said, breaking the silence as he stepped up beside me. His voice was low, a little gravelly, and there was something in his eyes—something that made my heart race.

I hesitated for a moment, looking back toward the door, knowing I should just leave and get some space to clear my head. But the desire to be close to him again, even just for a little longer, was stronger than any of the reasons I told myself I should go.

“Yeah,” I said, finally giving in, “okay.”

We walked to his truck, the soft crunch of gravel underfoot the only sound between us. The night felt different now, charged with something neither of us wanted to acknowledge—at least, not yet. When we got to the truck, Joel opened the door for me, his eyes never leaving mine as I climbed in. The truck door shut with a soft thud, and I settled in, trying to steady my breathing.

The drive was quiet, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. But the air between us was thick with everything unsaid—the years apart, the memories we couldn’t forget.

When we finally pulled up to my place, I felt a lump form in my throat. I didn’t want to say goodbye—not yet, not like this. But what else was there to say?

Joel’s truck rumbled to a stop outside my house, but neither of us moved immediately. The air felt thicker now, heavier, charged with all the things we hadn’t said. My heart was racing in my chest, the silence between us louder than any words could’ve been.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said quietly, trying to force some kind of normalcy into the situation. But my voice trembled, betraying everything I was trying to hide.

Joel didn’t answer at first, just stared at me for a moment. His brow furrowed, his jaw tense, like he was struggling to keep control. Without another word, he climbed out of the truck and walked around to my side, his movements slow but purposeful.

I froze for a second, wondering what he was doing. But when he reached the passenger door, he opened it, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity I couldn’t ignore. “Let me walk you to your door,” he said softly, as though it was a question, though neither of us needed permission.

I nodded, my throat tight, and stepped out of the truck, trying to steady myself as I moved toward him. His presence was magnetic, pulling me in as we walked together, side by side, toward the porch.

The night was quiet around us, but everything felt loud—our footsteps echoing, the rush of my pulse in my ears, the space between us that felt far too small for both of us to be standing in. My mind raced, but my body seemed to know exactly what it wanted, gravitating toward him with every step.

When we reached the front door, Joel stopped, turning to face me. There was something in his eyes, something raw and desperate, like he couldn’t stand to let go of this moment. The weight of the unspoken hung between us, and for a split second, I almost thought he would say something, but he didn’t. He reached out, his fingers brushing against mine, a quiet, gentle touch that sent a shock through my body.

“Y/n…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His hand lifted to my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek as he took another step closer. My breath hitched in my throat as I looked up at him, barely able to hold his gaze.

The moment felt too fragile, and I couldn’t make myself say anything else. Slowly, I turned toward the door, my hand reaching for the handle. “Goodnight, Joel,” I said, my voice barely audible.

He didn’t speak as I opened the door, stepping back just enough to let me through. I kept my gaze focused ahead, not trusting myself to look back at him, afraid of what I might see, afraid of what I might feel.

The door clicked shut behind me as I walked into my house, the weight of the night settling around me. I wasn't sure what to do with myself. I'd told myself I wasn't going to give in, that I was going to walk away and let things be, but Joel's words, his touch, had made it impossible to ignore the truth l'd buried for so long.

I slipped out of my shoes and made my way into the living room, my heart still racing from everything that had happened. As I sank into the couch, the silence in the house felt suffocating. I closed my eyes, but all I could see was Joel-his face, his hands on me, his kiss.

I was trying to talk myself down, to convince myself that I could move on. That I should. But just as I was about to stand, I heard a knock on the door.

I froze. My heart skipped a beat.

I walked slowly to the door, trying to calm the rush of emotions flooding my chest. When I opened it, there he was— Joel. Standing in the dark, his posture tense, but his eyes searching mine like he had to say something, like he couldn't leave without it.

“I can’t walk away from you again,” he said, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

Before I could even respond, his hand reached out to gently tug me closer, and his lips crashed onto mine. The kiss was fierce, urgent, as if he was trying to make up for the years apart, as if he couldn't stand the space between us anymore. I gasped, my hands coming up to clutch at his shirt as I kissed him back, my body pressed against his, needing him as much as he needed me.

He pulled me fully into the doorway, his hands moving to my waist, guiding me backward into the house. The door closed behind us with a soft thud, but neither of us paid attention to it.

All that mattered was the way his lips moved against mine, the way his touch made me feel like I was finally coming home.

Joel's kiss deepened, his hands sliding up my back to tangle in my hair, pulling me closer until there wasn't an inch of space between us.

I felt the heat of his body, the way his muscles flexed as he held me, the way his breath caught when I tugged him.

When we finally pulled apart, I was breathless, my heart pounding in my chest. His forehead rested against mine, both of us struggling to catch our breath, to make sense of what had just happened.

My fingers curling into his shirt as I pulled him back to me, not wanting to let go, not wanting to fight this anymore. Neither of us was ready to say goodbye—not yet, not when the night was still young and the truth was finally out in the open.

The world outside disappeared, leaving only us in this moment, the only sound the rush of our breathing, the pounding of our hearts in sync.

He pulled away briefly, his forehead resting against mine, his breath shaky.

"I can't pretend anymore," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I never stopped wanting you, y/n. Not for a second."

My heart twisted in my chest, and I didn't care anymore about what we had to lose. "Neither did I," I whispered, before closing the space between us again, kissing him with everything I had left to give.

This time, there was no holding back. We were finally done running from the truth.

[ri-writes-if]

Progress Update — 31/01/25

The first progress update in 2025 year 👋 January feels like two months; I legit had to look at the calendar today because I thought March was tomorrow, lol

Everything for February for Patreon is already written, so I’ve been fully focused on the chapter. I finished the last scenes of the common route and have reached the first individual scenes. I’m done with Vez’s branch and have almost finished Os’s branch.

Vez’s branch sits at ~10K words with all variables included (sorry, counting wordcount for one playthrough is a headache). There’s progression to their side plot, more personal conversations with them, and a couple of adorable moments.

On Os’s branch, I’m working on the last scene, and I’m halfway done with it. This scene wasn’t in the plans, so I had to figure out what to do about it. I wasn’t sure about this, but the scene is coming together even better than I thought. Their branch is already at ~11K words. There’s some plot stuff, a new character, one on one time with Os, and relationship progression. I think their dynamic is becoming much clearer in this chapter.

Some scenes differ depending on your relationship with the characters—romantic or platonic, high or low friendship. I’d say the best are the high friendship variants (if you’re not on the romantic path) because the lows are mostly here for these who play through the characters’ routes without growing too close to them. (Idk, maybe you want to see what there’s in their route, lore and other stuff, but you don’t want to be their friend because you don’t like the character that much?) It leads to the characters and the Oracle being less open with each other. So beware that your relationship with them is not, like, zero. Getting the high friendship variants isn’t hard, it doesn’t require max points, so you shouldn’t have problems with that unless you actively try to get low friendship.

The chapter sits at ~38K words with all the branches, excluding the code. I’m not even halfway done with yet, though. I should finish Os’s branch tomorrow, and then I’ll begin Laz.

Btw, this month’s sneak peeks from Ashmedai’s and Vezriel’s romance paths are on Patreon.

[idcbabyialreadylostmymind]

•Disease

Viktor x God/ess!reader

Synopsis-Viktor is in the verge of death, only a forgotten god can bring him back; what’s his fate?

cw- character death, bad writing, god!reader, writer watched what if when she started this, sexual undertones, kissing, reader is referred as ‘you’, uhhh I gen don’t know what else to put 😭

“I could be the doctor, I can cure your disease…”

Mortals. Primitive, selfish beings, they take so much but give so little. They don’t know it always comes back to bite them in the end.

Jayce eyes shoot open taking in painful gasps of air, delirious he stands up on wobbly legs. Looking around he’s horrified by the carnage that surrounded him. Where the council room once stood only rubble and mangled corpses of the councilors take its place. His breathing quickened, Mel. He searched frantically finding her incoherent, he helped her to her feet before his heart stopped. Viktor.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Jayce cursed himself before he realized he found his best friend, his partner's body; broken and bloody. Jayce ran towards the dying man. “No, no Vik come on stay with me.” The Talis boy cried, ripping Viktors dirty button, pushing up and down on his chest, hearing the crack of a rib with every compression he gave. His vision went blurry with tears. Viktor couldn’t die, Jayce wouldn’t let him. This isn’t working. I need to get to the lab. Was all Jayce could think, lifting Viktor off the floor racing to their lab.

He threw Viktor down, going through everything he possibly could to save him. There was nothing. How could this be? All those endless nights in the lab, countless nights gone with sleep, how many times they had to run over their morals for the greater good. How could this be? Jayce slammed his hands down on the stretcher Viktors body lies. He hadn’t realized he began crying again. And this time he couldn’t stop. “Please, please, anyone save him. Save my partner. Save Viktor.” He cried out into the air, it was insane, he knew nothing could hear him, help him. He was alone.

•

•

•

“Save him…. Save Viktor.”

Your ears rang over and over, the same phrase repeated over and over and over again until it was scorched into your brain. “Fine. Fine, Fine!” You grimaced walking up the invisible stairs into a room unlike any other; a room full of mirrors all differing in shapes and sizes.

You could see into any universe through these mirrors , anywhere anytime, everywhere all at once. You flowed through time and space, keeping the contingency in balance; but the punny little mortal kept disturbing you. Looking through one of the mirrors you touched the middle of the portal closing your eyes focusing all your energy to find that one little speck. Your terrestrial energy hummed around you; your plane of existence shaking all around you as if a glass ball under pressure about to shatter. Gotcha.

The fog of the portal disappeared and in it replaced a beautifully devastating scene, where one single action could create a new branch of reality. But this man doesn’t seem to be doing anything, but cry.

He was quite pitiful. The other man, the one he cried over, close to death if not already there. An essence radiated all through his dying body, you could feel the power he could hold. What a waste of potential.

You listened closely as the male pleaded and pleaded. “Save him,” he wailed. “I’ll do anything, give anything.” But it wasn’t him you wanted.

You bargained with yourself, if you saved the dying man you could have another soul, another disciple. But then your oath, if you broke then who knows what the Watchers would do.

“But, the Watchers haven’t been heard from in millenniums. I’m sure one life does not matter.” You mutter to yourself taking in a deep breath before you reach into the mirror grabbing Viktors hand and pull his soul from his body and bring him into your realm.

Viktor awoke gasping for air, he looked around panic feeling out his nerves. There was nothing, actually nothing but white, he was in a blindingly white room with no doors apparently. He looked down and saw his body, that was definitely not his. Where his metal protected body once was a white void takes his place, it didn’t feel like his body but a replica of what once was. Just as he went to find a way out a voice caught him. “Finally you’re awake I was wondering when you would—“

“Who are you?” Viktor cut you off from giving your gracious welcome speech, he studied you as you gathered yourself from his rude barbaric homosapien ways. You were indescribable, you went above all meanings of magic or logic he has ever known. Your body was like his but different. Colors of deep hue swished through your glorious temple, unlike his body yours blended with the void as if you bent it to your will. You floated around him ten times his size, terrifyingly beautiful.

“I am everything and nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

You don’t answer him, only swaying back and forth studying the statue in front of you, having truly forgotten how little human bodies can be.

“I heard your mortal man beg for your life, pleading for your soul's salvation.. I can give you salvation, Viktor.” You hummed only bringing Viktor deeper into your symphony of madness. “I can cure your disease.”

“What disease.” If all he can say through all this lunacy. “The disease of death.” You continued voiced strained almost as of this was exciting you, the longer you went on the clearer everything became, the blast killed him and this must be his hell.

“If I am to live again there will be a logical– a right way to do it.” Viktor tried to rebuttal your divine interference.

“Nothing can save you, no medicine, nor any human magic. But I can be your anecdote” You moved so fast Viktor couldn’t even catch your face as you moved back and forth.

“What.. I don’t– I don’t believe this.”

“I can make you believe.” You suddenly disappeared just for Viktor to feel a hand drag down his back.

“You are the flesh maggots adore,” you whisper into his ear, hands feeling his body up. “But I can make you so much more.” Your voice entranced him, enchanting his soul. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ll transcend any and everything you’ve ever done on that little speck of a planet of yours.”

“How?”

Gosh the questions have mortals always been this annoying?

“I’ll merge the smallest piece of my soul and I'll exchange and you will give me yours.” You explain an exaggerated smile stitched on your small, your face muscles strain he was concerned for you, they would surely cramp if you continued.

“My what?”

“Oh my— your soul. What else?” You look at him as if he was an insolent child and to you he was.

Viktor, well he was calculating whether or not this could be real or not. How out of 1 million probabilities this is the afterlife he was stuck with and if he was lucky this is all a dream and he’ll awake in a hospital, maybe a little sore, but definitely not survived by a forgotten god. As if hearing his thoughts the creature before him pushed him on the ground, straddling him.

“Forgotten’s a harsh word, I’d like to think of it as temporarily disposed of. And like I said before,” you spoke softly, hands caressing his shoulders and face, Viktor’s stomach clenched an unfamiliar and unwelcome warmth filling his body. “No human medicine will work for you. Only I can help you, so let me cure you.” You looked into his eyes, no deeper. It was as if you were connecting with his very being, so he definitely wasn’t thinking with the next words he uttered.

“Fine.”

He gave in way quicker than you thought, you smiled delighted. Getting off of him quickly and lead him to another place of whatever plane of existence you were on. This time there was one thing, a huge pitch black temple, the sculpture looks as if made at the depths of Tartarus. It made one quite unsettled how off it looked compared to the heavenly light that could burn one’s eyes out blazing behind it.

But one thing Viktor was thinking, was how big this place is.

When you two reached the temple and he looked back to you, you had a much more serious expression, your angelic features scrunching up to make an unnatural scowl. He could tell you were never meant to be unhappy.

“Kneel.” Your instruction cut through his ears, slicing his eardrums. Your demand was quite painful. You looked back remorse painting your eyes. But you had to remain in control.

As you knelt beside him you dipped your hand into a golden dish filled with water as pitch as the temple. He hadn’t even realized what was in front of them. An altar. Dawned with candles that never melted, flowers that never wilted, fruit that would never rot. Unfamiliar Oil aromas mixed into his nostrils. Four cups each different in size and style sit on their own corner on the altarpiece. Who knew immortal beings have their own gods?

“Please ancient gods, forgive us for our mortal sins…” you whispered an unintelligible prayer, dipping in the gold dish four separate times kissing your hands in between the dips. You poured all different elements along with the water into a different golden cup. Then you grabbed each chalice and poured blood-like tar out of each speaking what Viktor assumed were names, that even he couldn’t pronounce.

“As you have sacrificed for us we shall for you.”

That caught his attention. He couldn’t even speak when you grab his hand and without a knife cut his hand open with the tip of your fingernail. “W-wha…” He couldn’t even speak as you did the same, your blood pouring out the same as he. He held his hand hissing at the burning pain and you just groaned, snatching his hand back. “Stop being a baby.” You say healing the cut with a wave of your hand over his.

“Now drink.” She said, bringing the golden chalice to his lips deaconing him on. His lips touched the liquid gulping four times, it was bitter and tasted like death.

He watched you as you downed the rest, the red drink dripping down your chest. You look back at him, a new ferocity freed from your soul, grabbing the sides of his perfectly aligned face and smash your lips into his. Viktor was taken aback, he tried to push you away but you were too strong and suddenly he found himself falling into the kiss. Your warm muscle found his lips parting them biting his lip so hard he bleed the metallic taste feeling up your mouth and before he could try and push away it felt as if something was being shoved down his throat. It was excruciating, excessive, euphoric.

As you merged yourself using all your will to not consume his entire being, Viktor felt as if he was at the top of the world. His eyes rolled back in ecstasy, never having felt this much pleasure before it was unreal, unnatural and he needed more.

He grabbed your arms pulling your inhabited body closer, his body sparked a new energy, a powerful energy all through your body, it made you lust for more. Your soul's powerful emergence created a light, The light that was both of you, burned brighter and brighter until it combusted stabbing the white voided room into a black hole.

And then Viktor was gone.

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“They broke the oath.” A deep, dark voice spoke.

“This cannot be.” A jittery one shuttered.

“An act of rebellion I tell you. Who knows any deity now will think they can do whatever they want no respect—“ An old shriveled on spouted on and on.

“Quiet.” Said the fourth voice, all falling silent . “They will be dealt with accordingly, but first let’s see what they are planning…..”

Mortals are not the only ones who take things and never give back, Gods are the only real selfish ones; but they never know until the very end.

[bunbun-mochi]

Soothing to Sleep

Caleb x MC (in a relationship)

Warning: Fluff, lots of fluff.

Word Count: 2019, no proofreading

Preview: Caleb had been tired from all the work he'd been doing as a Colonel. You can tell the dark circle under his eyes so you decided to pamper him and help him sleep.

Note: Wrote this instead of studying. Gonna ace that exam. Colonel Caleb, send me luck. Lots of it.

Tagging: @madam8, @gavin3469

Caleb scowled as he read the reports. The more reports he read, the more ridiculous it gets. Ever since he came back from the deepspace tunnel routine yesterday, the work just seems neverending. As soon as he finishes one stack of paperwork, Liam just walks in with another stack of paperwork to finish. To make matters worse, his subordinates don't seem to behave. Every now and then, Liam would report in trouble from the lower ranks. In most cases, they could've solved the problem if they had done their job. As if on cue, Liam called in.

"Colonel," Liam's voice rang in Caleb's earpiece. "The captain of the 8th squadron asked for your presence. He said there had been a problem among the soldiers."

"What sort of problem?" Caleb asked. It sounded more of a frustration than a question.

"I'm not sure. He said a fight had happened." Liam answered.

"I'll be right there," Caleb said before ending the call. He sighed loudly before walking out of his office. This better be good.

Caleb's eyes twitched slightly when he walked to the so-called problem. Four soldiers were in a fistfight, taunting each other, while the other soldiers cheered. He glared at the captain of this group, "I'm pretty sure your job specifically says that you take care of any fights within your squadron?"

The captain hung his head as if feeling shameful, "I tried, but I don't have the capabilities-"

"No capabilities to stop a fight?" Caleb clicked his tongue. He walked toward the fight.

"Stop fighting this instant." A cold voice sliced through the air, and many soldiers who were cheering immediately stopped to turn to see that the colonel himself had arrived at the scene. The crowd near Caleb slowly moved away, either trying to allow the colonel to walk toward the fight or moving away from him to prevent repercussions.

Even with the colonel's orders and the silence of the crowd, the four soldiers did not back down from the fight. Caleb's scowl deepened. In a matter of seconds, the four soldiers are either on their backs or their knees with the colonel looking down at them. The soldiers around them dropped their jaws to see their own colonel just singlehandedly stopped a fight.

"You five," Caleb looked at the four soldiers on the ground then to the captain, "Office. Now."

Without another word, Caleb left the scene to go back into his office, leaving the lingering coldness of his presence on the scene.

Caleb glowered at the five people present in his office.

"If I see you four in another fight-"

"Sir, he attacked-" One of the soldiers tried to defend himself.

"Do not interrupt me." Although his face looked calm, his voice sounded extremely threatening and the whole room felt like it had dropped several degrees. "I expect you four to be on your best behavior. I better not get any reports about you four. Do you understand?"

The soldiers quickly nodded their heads. They didn't know which was better, being yelled at by a superior or being disciplined by this colonel who looked like he would skin them all before murdering them.

"You're dismissed." The soldiers scrambled out the door. When the captain made an attempt to leave, Caleb called out, "You stay."

The captain gulped before standing straight before the colonel.

"The next time you decide to call me to solve this type of issue for you, I expect your badge on my desk promptly."

"Yes, sir."

"Get out."

The captain didn't need to be told twice as he left the office as soon as Caleb told him to leave. Caleb sighed and rubbed his temple. The workload had been ridiculous. As the time ticked on, the entire building slowly turned quiet. All the soldiers and officers had already left work. Caleb checked the time to see it had been nearly midnight. He sighed before heading out of his office to call it a day.

Caleb wasn't particularly excited to go back home. Whenever you weren't in Skyhaven, his house felt empty and lonely. However, today, the house seemed a bit more lively than usual. Several lamps were turned on and he heard a voice and movement inside one of the bedrooms.

"Ugh, I swear I brought some over!" Caleb immediately recognized that voice belonged to you.

He quickly shut the door before calling out to her, "MC?" He quickly stripped out of his uniform that his lover disliked so much.

Without missing a single beat, you ran out of your bedroom and hugged him, "Caleb! Welcome home!"

"I didn't know you were staying." He hugged you back, tightly. "I would've prepared dinner."

You gasped, "Ooo, that does sound good. It's okay, Caleb. I didn't even know I was getting a few days off. Captain Jenna told me to take the weekends off since there have been way too many people to call in for the shift this weekend. So I thought to spend my weekend with you!"

All the fatigue Caleb felt back in the office immediately left him. He felt anew and recharged. You leaned in closer and narrowed your eyes. It was hard to see, but you could see a faint dark circle under his eyes, it's hard to tell without getting very close.

"Caleb?" you frowned, "are you alright?"

Caleb raised an eyebrow, "Yes. Why?"

"Well," You gently caressed the skin under his eyes. "You look tired."

Caleb sighed, "When did you become this observant."

"If I'm not that observant then what kind of hunter would I be."

Caleb chuckled as you used a similar quote he had used before. "Alright, fine, fine. The paperwork was a handful, but don't worry. I'm fiiiiine."

You narrowed her eyes, slightly suspicious, "I don't believe you."

"What should I do to make you believe me?"

You beamed, "I have something in mind."

"I'm all ears."

"No explaining, just listen to my instructions."

"Yes, colonel." Caleb teased.

"Pipsqueak. When you said you had something in mind, this is not what I'm expecting." Caleb nervously chuckled.

You squeezed a bottle of shampoo onto your hand, "shush. Let me take care of you." You lathered the shampoo onto his hair and gently massaged his scalp. "You took care of me many times before, let me do it at least once." You poked his cheek, "Lay down, I can't reach you."

Caleb obediently did what you asked and lay his head back. "I never thought there would be a day where I get pampered instead of the one doing the pampering."

You chuckled, "Well, expect more pampering in the future. Close your eyes."

You inwardly chuckled when Caleb once again obediently did what you asked, like a cute little puppy. "Alright, I'm done with your hair. Finish washing yourself, and I'll wait for you outside."

Caleb smiled, "What else do you have in store for me?"

"You'll see," You said before closing the door.

It didn't take long for Caleb to finish washing. In fact, it wasn't even three minutes, and he was already done, already dressed in his pajamas.

"Caleb, what the fuck? I was just in there."

"Yes, and I'm out here now."

"In three minutes?"

Caleb looked at you in confusion. "Yes?"

"How?"

Caleb shrugged, "Sometimes things happen in the fleet, so I gotta shower quickly, or else my subordinates would see me doing drills naked."

You blinked, trying to process it before laughing at the idea of naked Caleb barking orders.

Caleb playfully narrowed his eyes, "I see your imagination is going wild."

You wiped my tears while gesturing him to sit down, "I'll dry your hair."

Caleb sat down and looked at you questionably. "I think you're trying to start something."

You grabbed the hair dryer and turned it on, "You're overthinking it." While drying his hair, you tried to fluff up his hair as much as possible, trying to give him a new hairstyle. The most ridiculous style you can ever think of.

"What are you doing?" Caleb asked, clearly knowing what your intentions are.

You giggled, "Nothing, just trying to make you fluffy."

"I'm not a dog." The way Caleb acted, he might as well be born in the year of the dog.

It didn't take long for his hair to dry. Sadly, his hair did not fluff up the way you wanted it to be. Guess his hair is just as stubborn as their owner.

You tossed the air dryer to the side and pushed Caleb toward you. "Lean on me, let me massage your shoulders." You pressed down on his shoulder, kneeling around his tense muscles. You can feel Caleb feeling relaxed because he's starting to put his entire weight on you. After several minutes, you feel like he's going to nod off, so you poke his cheek, "Let's do your face."

"What's wrong with my face?" Caleb sounded slightly sleepy.

You rolled your eyes, "Nothing, but it'll feel nice. I promise."

Caleb slowly stood up, "Sure sure. You're the boss."

You dragged Caleb into his bedroom, and made sure he was nice and comfortable under the blanket before putting on the face mask.

"You know, I remember when you forced me to wear face masks while we were in high school. You even used me as a guinea pig for your skincare and makeup."

"Do you not like them?"

"No, I like them."

"Good, now close your eyes. Perhaps you'll achieve what all women wanted: a glass skin."

"If I have that, I'd lose respect from all my subordinates."

"Good," You sat next to him. "Maybe you won't appear that scary under that uniform." You grabbed a book that he was reading and started to hum a tune.

The book Caleb is reading is a lot different than what you would read. It's all about the different models of a plane. Most of which you don't even understand.

"Caleb, what would your next career plan be if you didn't become a pilot?" Would he be an engineer instead? You waited for an answer but no response from Caleb. "Caleb?" You looked over at him to see him fast asleep. His eyes are closed and his breaths are even.

You smiled at his innocent sleeping face as you slowly peeled the mask from his face. "I wish I had your skin. One face mask and you look several years younger."

You quietly and slowly slid out of the bed to turn off all the lights before sliding back under the blanket with him. "Good night."

The first thing that stirred Caleb awake was the smell. The smell smelled... delicious. He can smell the egg, the butter, and the meat. Then he heard a tune, the same tune he heard last night before he passed out. He slowly blinked awake, allowing his eyes to adjust to the morning light.

He slowly left his bed and followed the smell and the music that led him toward the kitchen. He smiled as he watched you doing small dances as you placed the food onto the plate. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your cheeks which made you jump.

"Caleb! You scared me!"

Caleb chucked, "Good morning, love."

"Good morning. Slept well?"

Caleb nodded. He slept very well last night. The first time where he didn't wake himself up from nightmares.

"I made breakfast. I also made your lunch, if you're interested. If not, I'll just eat it my-"

"Thank you, I'll take them all."

You smiled, "Want me to make dinner tonight?"

Caleb hummed, "Yes, please."

Caleb felt like he was living in paradise. No matter how much work he needed to do, as long as he know that you'll be the one welcoming him home, work doesn't sound as bad.

Boy, was he wrong. The moment he got into his office, he was ready to murder every single person in this building. Because the first damn thing that happened as soon as he went to work, an emergency happened. Because someone can't read a fucking manual, causing a domino effect which then made it into an emergency.

Dividers, headers, banners, and templates used on this post are from @uzmacchiato

[sunbl3achedfly]

Do the dead comfort you? Pt.2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Spencer does all he can to save you from the hands of a psychotic unsub, and he makes a promise to remain by your side in the aftermath of the ordeal.

Content: Dead bodies once again, (tw) torture, stalking, breakdowns, hospital visits, blood, (tw) sexual assault, trauma, Spencer to the rescue & being a tad protective of the pretty girl he only met once before, the reader realizes she can't use her morbid sense of humor to cope with everything, hurt/comfort I guess?

Author's note: Here’s part two!!! I was listening to Ethel's new album while writing this and holy moly I was in the zone and wrote most of it in one go. (Pulldrone is exactly what was playing when I wrote the scenes while she was kidnapped and I feel like the eery ambiance encapsulates the utter sense of dread and despair that hits the reader once she realizes how serious the situation is). Hope you all enjoy <33

Let me know if you guys want a part 3!!

5,331 words (it’s a long one aha)

part one

masterlist

When you finally managed to open your eyes again, a sharp, dull pain radiated through your skull. The harsh fluorescent lights above didn't help as they glared down at you. At least you weren't on the floor. Nope, just restrained to an ice-cold metal slab. Fancy that. This must be how all my patients feel before I embalm them.

You attempted to look around the room but the bright lights from above prevented you from doing so. As you regained consciousness, you began to realize that both your wrists and ankles were restrained to the embalming table. And you were only in your underwear. The panic had begun to set in and you tugged at the restraints, but to no avail, they wouldn’t budge.

"Struggling won't help", a voice echoed through the room, "I made sure of that."

Your head snapped to the right as you took in the man who now began leaning over you. At first, he didn't even look real. He stood over you, bathed in the cold, sterile glow of the morgue’s overhead lights, his figure stretched and distorted by your disoriented mind. A nightmare stitched together from shadows and flesh, from surgical steel and the sickly scent of embalming fluid. His eyes—God, his eyes—weren’t just looking at you; they were studying you, cataloging every inch of your body as if you were a specimen he was about to dissect.

On any normal day, his face may have been forgettable, the kind you’d pass on the street without a second thought. But at this moment, in this place, it was the only thing in the world. The sharp angles of his cheekbones cast deep, skeletal hollows in his skin, making him look half-dead, like something that had crawled out of the very slabs you worked on everyday. His mouth curled in something that wasn’t quite a smile, wasn’t quite a sneer—just wrong, like he wasn’t used to making expressions that mimicked human emotion.

Then came his voice, it slithered into your ears, so sickly sweet that it made you nauseous, "You’re quite the fighter, aren’t you? But they all stop fighting eventually.”

You tried your best to focus on anything else at that moment, the details of everything else but him. The thin, latex gloves that he wore, they were stretched way too tight across his knuckles. The way his coat —a pristine white lab coat, because of course it was—fluttered slightly as he moved, the motion strangely elegant. You could smell him too. He smelled clean, too clean, like antiseptic and soap, but underneath that all was something rotten, something decayed. Maybe it was just your imagination. Maybe it wasn’t.

As he began mulling over which embalming tool to pick up first, his fingers hovering over them as if one of them was beckoning to be chosen, you realized just how exposed you were. For the first time since waking up, at the mercy of this thing, wearing a man's skin—you started to believe you might actually die here.

The sound of splintering wood as the mortuary door crashed open was deafening. You flinched violently, your body instinctively pulling against the straps that pinned you to the cold metal table. Relief and terror fought for dominance in your chest.

They’re here. Oh God, they’re finally here.

But then, just when you had begun to relax for the first time in hours, you felt the scalpal press harder against your neck. The tip of it broke through skin, not deep, but enough to make your breath catch.

"Don’t move,” the unsub growled under his breath. His voice was sharp, his calm façade cracking under the pressure. You could feel the tremor in his hands now, the desperation radiating off him.

Your pulse thundered, the pain from the cut on your arm flaring as you tried to keep still. The various cuts and injuries that littered your body were nothing compared to the fear the tiny blade at your neck instilled in you. You bit down on your lip to stop it from trembling. Don’t panic. Don’t make this worse. They’re here. They’ll get me out of this. Please let them get me out of this.

"FBI! Drop the weapon!" A commanding voice filled the room.

"Come any closer and I slit her throat!" The man bellowed. Up until this point he had not raised his voice once, and the sheer volume caused you to flinch again, the scalpal breaking through more skin. You could feel a warm liquid trail over your collarbone.

Your eyes darted to the doorway, tears stinging as you caught sight of the dark vests, the guns, the agents—saviors. But the unsub only pressed closer, his body partially shielding you. The scalpel was an unrelenting threat, cold and unmoving against your skin. The sharp sting at your neck anchored you to the moment. A hot tear slipped down your temple. I’m going to die here.

From Spencer's position in the doorway, his sharp eyes took everything in. The unsub’s trembling hands, the scalpel pressed against your throat, your bloodied arm, and—God—your state of undress. His chest clenched painfully, guilt and anger battling inside him. He only hoped the unsub hadn’t gotten too far before they arrived.

She’s absolutely terrified. One wrong move and she’s dead. Come on Spencer, think!

His jaw tightened as he saw the unsub’s gaze flick toward him, possessive and unhinged. Spencer’s hands twitched, his instinct to charge forward barely restrained. Stay calm. She needs you to stay calm.

"You don’t want to do this,” he finally said, his voice softer than usual. He took a slow step forward, keeping his hands visible. Carefully, he raised them, shifting the gun away from the man. He was acutely aware of the five other guns trained on him, ready to fire if he made a wrong move, which was why he was willing to take the risk. “This doesn’t have to end badly. Let her go, and we can talk this through."

There was a slight pause in the unsub's movements.

“You’re in control right now,” Spencer continued, his tone gentle, almost soothing. “But if you hurt her, that control is gone. You don’t want that. You don’t want to make this worse.”

Spencer’s gaze flicked to yours, meeting your tear-filled eyes. You looked at him like he was your only lifeline. The desperation in your expression hit him like a punch to the gut. The only thought running through his mind like a mantra was that he needed to get her out of there, fast.

The tension in the room was suffocating, each second seemed to stretch on for eternity. Then, the unsub shifted slightly, but it was enough for Derek Morgan to lunge forward like a strike of lightning.

The scalpel hit the floor with a sharp clang as Hotch slammed into the unsub, yanking him away from the table. Chaos exploded around you—shouts, the scuffle of bodies struggling—but it barely registered. Your chest rose and fell in ragged gasps, your throat raw as you fought for breath, tears blurring your vision.

Spencer was at your side in an instant, undoing the restraints that held you down, while simultaneously giving you a once-over to take in any serious injuries he may need to keep in mind for the first responders.

You were in such a state that you barely registered whose hands were touching you and your heart rate immediately spiked. Your eyes were shut and you began thrashing on the table whilst whimpering loudly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s over,” Spencer’s voice broke through the haze.

You blinked, realizing he was kneeling beside you, his hands moving to undo the straps that held you down. You flinched as his fingers brushed your wrist, a sob escaping your throat before you could stop it.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice soft but steady. “He can't hurt you anymore. I promise.”

As the final strap came loose, you tried to sit up, but your body wouldn’t cooperate. Your legs felt weak, your hands trembling so badly you couldn’t push yourself upright.

“Here—let me help you.” Spencer’s hands were gentle as he guided you into a sitting position, his movements careful, almost hesitant.

The moment you were upright, you instinctively reached for him, clutching his shirt as your body shook with silent sobs.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around you. His vest felt stiff under your cheek, but his touch was warm, steadying. “You’re safe. I promise, you’re safe now.”

You couldn’t stop crying, the reality of everything crashing over you. His hand rested lightly on the back of your head, the other drawing soothing circles on your back.

Spencer’s heart twisted at how small you felt in his arms, how vulnerable. Gone was the sarcastic, spunky girl who had left such a strong impression on him after just one meeting. He held you tighter, his own breath uneven as he fought to keep his emotions in check. She’s okay. She’s okay now. But she’s so scared. I need her to know she’s safe.

When you finally managed to speak, your voice was barely a whisper. “He almost…” Yet another sob prevented you from continuing.

Spencer shook his head, cutting you off gently. “But he didn’t. He didn’t, okay? You’re here. You’re safe.”

You buried your face in his chest again, your fingers clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. And in that moment, he didn’t care about protocol or what anyone else thought. All that mattered was comforting the girl with the shattered spirit in his arms.

The sharp, sterile scent of the hospital was the first to hit you as the nurse wheeled you through the emergency room doors. The fluorescent lights felt too bright, their clinical glow exposing every bruise, every scrape, and every jagged line of your vulnerability. They reminded you of the lights in the embalming room. The embalming room. That man. The tools piercing your skin.

You were vaguely aware of Spencer at your side, walking just close enough that his hand occasionally brushed against the armrest of the wheelchair. You wanted to tell him you were fine, that he didn’t have to stay, but every time you opened your mouth to speak, the words got stuck in your throat. You didn't want to do this alone.

The nurse guided you into a small room, where a doctor was already waiting. Spencer stopped just outside the doorway, shifting awkwardly, his hands buried in his pockets.

“We’ll take it from here,” the nurse said gently, giving him a polite but firm smile.

Spencer hesitated, his eyes darting between you and the nurse. You could see the conflict on his face, his shoulders tense like he was bracing for an argument.

You managed to find your voice, though it came out weaker than you intended. “Spencer…”

His gaze snapped to yours expectantly, his features softening.

“Can you… stay?” The words were barely a whisper, but the way his expression shifted—relief, determination, and something almost protective flashing across his face—made you feel a little steadier.

“Of course,” he said without hesitation, stepping into the room. He pulled up a chair near the bed, sitting close but giving you enough space not to feel overwhelmed.

The doctor began her examination, her voice calm and clinical as she asked you questions. “Any dizziness? Nausea? Are you in pain anywhere besides your arm?”

You answered automatically, your voice hollow as your mind wandered. The doctor’s questions blurred together with the sting of antiseptic on your wounds, and the rustle of the hospital gown you’d been asked to change into felt deafening in the quiet.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the unsub’s hands on you, the way his gaze had stripped you of every ounce of dignity. The memory was suffocating, curling around your chest like a vice.

Spencer’s voice cut through the fog, grounding you. “Hey,” he uttered softly, his brow furrowed with concern. “You okay?”

You blinked, realizing the doctor had finished and was watching you with the same concerned expression.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, though your voice lacked conviction.

Spencer didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press. Instead, he waited until the doctor left the room before leaning forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees as he studied you.

After a few minutes of silence, he spoke up again, "You're not fine."

You looked down at your hands, the hospital gown feeling too thin, too revealing, despite being more covered than you were earlier. You didn't know how to respond.

Spencer hesitated, noticing the sudden vulnerability in your expression. “I uh... I need to ask you a few questions… about what happened. It’s just procedure—to make sure this guy gets what he deserves. We don't have to do it now, but I'm here when you're ready.”

The sincerity in his tone made something in you crack. You weren’t ready to talk, not yet, but the way he said it—as if there was no question that he would be there for as long as you needed—made you feel a little less alone.

“You don’t have to stay,” you said quietly, though the thought of him leaving made your stomach twist.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said firmly. “Not until you’re ready for me to, at least.”

You glanced up at him, expecting to see pity in his eyes, but all you saw was quiet determination. It made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t expected.

You took a shaky breath, your hands clenching into fists as you tried to steady yourself. “Ask the questions,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but firm with determination.

Spencer’s brow furrowed as he leaned forward slightly, his voice soft but insistent. “You don’t have to right now. We can wait until you’re ready. You don’t have to rush through it.”

But you shook your head, a flicker of something fierce in your eyes. “No… I want to do this now. If I don’t… I won’t ever.” The words tasted bitter in your mouth, but you pressed on, your heart pounding as the weight of what you were about to do sank in. “I need to nail this bastard. For me, for them… for everyone he’s hurt.”

Spencer remained quiet for a moment, watching you carefully, weighing your words. Finally, he nodded, his expression unreadable but softening with understanding. “Alright..." he hesitated, "This is going to sound silly, but can you close your eyes for me and tell me... what he did to you?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the request. For a moment, you didn’t know how to react. But the quiet, sincere way he asked you made something inside you settle, just a little. The room felt quieter now, the world shrinking down to just the two of you.

Closing your eyes, you tried to push the memories to the surface, to bring them into focus. Your heart beat faster, but you steeled yourself, knowing this was the only way to make him pay.

"When I woke up from being knocked out… I was tied down to the embalming table in my underwear, the straps were tight," you began slowly, rubbing your wrists absentmindedly. The sensation of the straps still lingered, and it made your skin crawl. "I couldn’t move."

Spencer stayed silent, his gaze never leaving you, his presence grounding you even as the weight of the memories pressed in. "Take your time," he said quietly, voice gentle but firm.

You took a shaky breath, nodding, trying to find the strength to continue. "He... he just stood there for a while, watching me. I could feel his eyes on me, like... he was enjoying it." You paused, swallowing the bitterness in your throat. "I couldn’t even scream. I just had to wait for him to decide what he wanted to do next."

Spencer’s jaw tightened, his mind was piecing it together, filling in the gaps even if you didn’t want him to. But he said nothing, giving you the space to speak. You appreciated that more than you could express.

There was no avoiding it. You had to talk about it. You had to say the words, had to help the FBI put together the full picture. You took a slow breath, trying to keep your voice steady.

“He—he used different embalming tools.”

Spencer looked up sharply, he noticed the pained expression on your face and realised just how hard this was going to be for you.

Your heart started to pound. As soon as you said it, the memories came rushing back.

The metal table was freezing against your bare skin, your body trembling with something beyond the cold. You pulled at your restraints, but they were too tight, digging into your wrists and ankles.

“I’ve always been fascinated by preservation,” the unsub mused, his fingers trailing over a set of gleaming instruments. “The way death can be… delayed. How a body can be made beautiful again.”

You didn’t say anything. Your throat was raw from screaming earlier, and you were running out of ways to keep yourself from panicking.

The unsub turned, holding up an embalming trocar—long, sharp, and glinting under the fluorescent light. “Did you know this is used to remove fluids and gases from a body before preservation?” He traced the tip lightly down your abdomen, not pressing hard enough to break skin. “It’s important to prepare the body properly.”

Your breathing hitched, and you clenched your jaw, forcing yourself not to react.

His expression darkened. “You’re supposed to be still,” he murmured, and without warning, he pressed down.

Pain flared white-hot in your side as the tip of the tool pricked your skin, just enough to draw blood. You gasped, your body instinctively jerking against the restraints.

The unsub sighed, shaking his head. “Messy,” he muttered, wiping the small bead of blood with his gloved hand. “I’ll have to try again.”

You inhaled sharply, coming back to yourself. The hospital bed, the warmth of the blanket, the steady presence of Spencer beside you—it was enough to pull you out of the memory, but your skin still burned where the tool had touched you.

Spencer’s knuckles were white where he gripped his knees. His breathing was slow, controlled, but his eyes—his eyes were burning with something deep and unsettled.

“He used a trocar,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “He—he didn’t go deep, but he wanted to see me flinch.”

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, like he was trying to will away the image forming in his mind. “And the other injuries?” he asked, his voice strained.

You swallowed. “A needle. He… he injected something into my leg. Some kind of preservative, I think. It burned.”

Another flash—

The burn spread up your thigh, a fire beneath your skin. You cried out, muscles seizing, your entire body locking up.

The unsub tilted his head, watching with interest. “Formaldehyde is quite versatile,” he said conversationally. “It won’t kill you. Not yet. But I wonder how much your body can handle before it starts shutting down?”

You bit down on your lip, hard enough to taste blood.

You took a slow, shaky breath, forcing yourself back into the present. The hospital bed. The warmth of the blanket. The steady presence of Spencer beside you.

Spencer’s hands had curled into fists. His jaw was clenched so tightly you could see the muscle twitching.

“What else?” he asked, voice strained.

You hesitated again. “He used the embalming pump.”

Spencer’s breath audibly caught in his throat.

The hum of the embalming machine filled the room, a steady, mechanical noise that only added to the horror of the moment.

You were still strapped down, too weak to fight, but your breath was coming in panicked gasps as the unsub adjusted the tube connected to the pump.

“This is a test,” he murmured, almost absently. “A small amount, just to see how the body reacts.”

You barely processed his words before you felt the cool sensation of liquid seeping into your veins.

Your vision blurred for a moment. It wasn’t enough to kill you—not yet. But it left you dizzy, sluggish, your limbs feeling even heavier than before.

“Fascinating,” the unsub muttered to himself. “I wonder how much you can take.”

You swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "The last thing he did... he told me exactly what he was going to do to me. Everything he'd done to his other victims—every single cut, every injection, every—"

Your breath hitched, your throat closing around the words.

"But I—I was going to be his favorite," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Because I had spunk. Because I fought back."

A shudder ran through you, your entire body recoiling from the memory. You couldn't say the rest. You didn't need to say the rest. The way his voice had darkened, the way he'd described it, savoring every detail like a promise—

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if that could block it out.

Spencer's hand closed over yours, grounding you. His grip was firm, steady, as if willing you to feel something other than that sickening sense of violation crawling under your skin.

“That’s enough,” he said, his voice low but unwavering.

You shook your head, your breathing uneven. “But you need to know—”

“I do know,” Spencer cut in, his voice sharp but gentle. His jaw was clenched, his eyes burning with something unreadable—but underneath it, there was a quiet, unshakable promise. “You’ve given us enough.” He exhaled, slow and controlled, but his next words carried the full weight of his conviction.

“He’s never going to hurt anyone ever again. I swear to you—I’ll make sure he rots in prison for the rest of his life.”

A sob caught in your throat, but you swallowed it down. You weren’t ready to cry—not yet. But for the first time since it happened, you felt the faintest flicker of relief.

Spencer wasn’t just listening. He was hearing you. And he was going to make sure you got justice.

You weren’t alone in this.

And for now, that was enough.

As the night wore on, the hours began to blur together. You knew you wouldn't be able to sleep that night, and as guilty as it made you feel, Spencer didn't seem to mind. Throughout the night, nurses came and went, checking your vitals, re-bandaging your arm, and murmuring reassurances that didn’t quite reach you. And through it all, Spencer stayed.

The hospital room had settled into an almost eerie calm. Machines beeped softly in the background, and the dim lighting made everything feel slower as if the world outside had paused. You were sitting up in the hospital bed, the scratchy blanket pulled tight around your shoulders. Spencer sat in the chair beside you, his legs crossed, thumbing through a book he’d found somewhere in the waiting area at a speed you didn't think was humanly possible.

The silence was interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open. The FBI agent that had first pushed the unsub away from you in the embalming room stepped inside. At first, his presence intimidated you, his muscular frame and broad shoulders made him an imposing figure, but there was an undeniable warmth in his deep brown eyes. His smooth, dark skin contrasted with the sharp angles of his jawline, and a hint of stubble shadowed his face. He was holding two cups of hospital jello, one red, the other green.

“Thought you two could use a little pick-me-up,” He said, holding the cups aloft with a charming smile. “It’s not gourmet, but it’s better than nothing.”

You managed to return a weak smile back, taking the red jello as he handed it to you. Spencer set his book aside and accepted the green one without hesitation.

“Thanks, Morgan,” Spencer said.

Morgan gave you both a once-over, his gaze softening when it landed on you. “If you need anything, just holler. But I’ll give you two some space.” He gave Spencer a pointed look as if to silently remind him to keep an eye on you, then slipped out of the room.

You began poking at the jello with the plastic spoon. The silence stretched between you and Spencer, not uncomfortable, just heavy with unspoken things.

"You know", you said finally, your voice a little raspy, “jello might be the most depressing food ever invented.”

Spencer glanced up from his cup, his lips quirking in a faint smile. There she is. “It does have a strange texture. Did you know it’s made from gelatin, which comes from—”

“Animal bones,” you finished for him, giving him a sidelong look. “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

He blinked, a little surprised, then nodded. “Right. I guess... you would know that.”

You smirked faintly, the smallest flicker of your usual sarcasm peeking through. “What can I say? I'm full of fun facts. Comes with the job, really.”

Spencer tilted his head, studying you once again. "Your job... I can't imagine it's easy," he said carefully, his voice gentle.

You hesitated, your spoon hovering just above the jello. For a brief moment, you considered brushing him off with a joke or changing the subject like you usually would. But when you met his gaze, there was something about the way he was looking at you. God, stop looking at me like that. His unwavering, earnest stare made you feel safe enough to answer honestly.

“It isn't most of the time” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “But it’s worth it.”

Spencer didn’t respond right away. Instead, he kept his gaze on you, his expression soft yet intent—like he was trying to unravel everything you weren’t saying. His eyes, sharp with quiet intelligence, searched yours as if they could decode the weight you carried, the thoughts you never voiced, the depth you kept hidden from the world.

There was something about you that fascinated him—not just your words, but the silences between them, the guarded way you spoke about things that mattered. He could tell there was so much more beneath the surface, layers of emotion and experience you refused to share. And yet, just for a moment, it felt like he could see them anyway.

He finally spoke, "Why?"

You sighed, setting the jello cup on the bedside table. “Because… when I embalm and prepare a body, when I make someone look like the person they were before…” You paused, swallowing hard. “I get to give their family one last chance to say a proper goodbye. One last moment where they can see the person they loved, not the person the world left behind.”

Spencer kept his gaze steady as he took in your words. He could tell how much those words meant to you. Surprisingly, his expression held a little bit of understanding and even awe.

"That's... incredible." he said finally, "I had never thought of it that way."

You huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah, well… not everyone thinks it's incredible. Most people just think it’s creepy."

Spencer’s lips quirked into the smallest smile. "I mean, technically, you do spend a lot of time with dead bodies."

You gave him a pointed look. "And you spend a lot of time profiling serial killers, but you don’t see me calling you creepy."

Spencer tilted his head, considering that for a moment. "Fair point."

A comfortable silence settled between you, the heaviness of the conversation lifting just a little.

Before the conversation could continue you blurted out, "Thank you."

Spencer glanced at you, “For what?”

“For staying,” you said simply.

He hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. “I couldn’t leave,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “Not when you…” He trailed off, looking down at his hands. “I just couldn’t.”

You nodded, understanding more than words could convey. For the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel completely alone.

As you leaned back against the pillows, your eyes growing heavy, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you were going to be okay.

After your third day in the hospital, you were finally discharged. The hospital doors slid open with a quiet hiss, letting in a crisp evening breeze. You inhaled deeply, filling your lungs with fresh air—something that didn’t reek of antiseptic or overcooked hospital food. The gauze beneath your shirt still tugged slightly with each breath, but the soreness was manageable.

Freedom. Finally.

Beside you, Spencer hovered with the same quiet intensity he’d had when you arrived at the hospital, arms crossed like he wasn’t entirely convinced letting you leave was a good idea.

“You know, I appreciate the escort,” you said, adjusting the strap of your bag over your good shoulder, “but unless you’re planning on kidnapping me back to my hospital bed, I think I can manage from here.”

Spencer blinked. “I just— I wanted to make sure you got out okay.”

You smirked. “What, did you think I’d trip over my own feet and fall into traffic?”

“I— statistically, you’re not at full mobility, and with your pain medication, your reflexes might be slightly impaired—”

You rolled your eyes. “Spencer, I’m not going to faceplant into the street.” Then, after a beat: “At least, not immediately.”

The corners of his lips twitched, like he was trying not to smile but failing miserably.

The silence stretched for a moment. For all his intelligence, Spencer still looked like he wanted to say something but hadn’t quite figured out the words. His hands twitched at his sides, like he was debating reaching out.

You tilted your head at him. “You okay there, Doc?”

He cleared his throat, straightening. “I just— I hope you know that you, um… don’t have to go through this alone.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I mean, I was alone in the embalming room with a serial killer, so technically—”

Spencer shot you a look.

You snorted. “Okay, okay, I get it. Not the time."

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just meant… I know how trauma can make people isolate themselves, and I just wanted you to know that you have people who care.”

You nodded slowly. There was a warmth in your chest at the sincerity in his voice—softer, earnest.

“Well, in that case,” you said, shifting your weight to your good side, “since you care so much, would you... wanna get dinner sometime?”

Spencer’s mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. “Dinner?”

“Yeah, you know. The thing where people sit at a table, order food, and consume it?” You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I mean, unless you don’t want to—”

“No! I mean— I do! I just—” He ran a hand through his hair, looking both overwhelmed and adorable in a way that made you bite back a grin.

You decided to put him out of his misery. “Spencer," your voice softened, "I’m trying to ask you on a date.”

He froze.

“Oh.”

You smirked. “Yeah. Oh.”

Spencer’s brain seemed to reboot in real time. “I—yes! Yes, I would like that.”

Your smirk softened into something more genuine. “Good. You can pick the place.”

He nodded, still looking slightly dazed. “Right. I, um, I’ll text you.”

You chuckled, stepping back toward the curb where your ride was waiting. “See you soon, Doctor Reid.”

Spencer stood there as you got into the car, still blinking, like he was trying to process what had just happened.

As you pulled away, you saw him through the rearview mirror—standing there, hand running through his hair, a small, boyish smile tugging at his lips.

For the first time in a long time, despite everything that had happened, something felt right.

[accio-victuuri]

i finally found an account sharing the positive reviews ( by viewers ) for LOCH. thank you to this person for compiling✨

i posted a thoughts piece on here about some issues surrounding the movie’s release and as i mentioned there, i will be sharing the good reviews on here as they come, and now here it is. there is a lot from the reposts of OP so i will just share a couple. enjoy ^^

riddled with spoilers so be warned. ❌❌❌

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I don't know why the sequels of the IPs in the Spring Festival did not achieve the effect I expected, but The Legend of the Condor Heroes exceeded my expectations. I have watched several of Tsui Hark's movies, and my impression of him is that he is a romantic martial arts old man. After watching The Legend of the Condor Heroes, I think this is even more true. Tsui Hark is really romantic. His lens language has its own characteristics, which is implicit and magnificent. These two somewhat contradictory words can be expressed in the movie The Legend of the Condor Heroes. It is not an exaggeration to say that Tsui Hark is the best.

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The movie The Legend of the Condor Heroes is a very good work. I had low expectations because I saw many people dislike it on Weibo. I watched it based on the idea that I must watch all five movies in the Spring Festival, but The Legend of the Condor Heroes gave me a big surprise.

I have been crying since I saw Huang Rong masked and saw Guo Jing crying. The Legend of the Condor Heroes moved me. I cried for the love that accompanies each other through life and death. This silent love moved me very much. I cried that Guo Jing's mother committed suicide to protect the country so as not to drag Guo Jing down. I cried that Guo Jing did not forget his homeland after decades in Mongolia. I thought of the overseas Chinese, most of whom care about their motherland. If the motherland is in trouble, they will come back across the ocean.

I admire Tsui Hark so much. The shots are so beautiful and the love is so romantic. In Tsui Hark's writing, life is so beautiful. The only regret is that Huang Rong in my heart is more cunning and beautiful than Zhuang Dafei.

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this next one is explaining the idea behind this specific scene that some people are ridiculing. cause they are expecting a big battle to happen.

The painting on the left shows the scene of Chinese soldiers guarding the border, and on the right is a picture of Guo Jing fighting against the Mongolian army. Several Chinese soldiers opened their arms to show their firm determination to defend the country's territorial sovereignty. Guo Jing was also firm in the face of foreign troops. What's wrong with this? This action is actually the first reaction in an emergency. What's wrong with this design? He is well aware of his own insignificance. Guo Jing will not use brutal killing to fight against the Mongolian army, but the Khan is not stupid. He did not retreat because he was moved. He saw Guo Jing's lethality and his own army was also demoralized, so he retreated. He didn't understand this.

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Not a fan, a brief review of The Legend of the Condor Heroes. I took my parents to watch The Legend of the Condor Heroes. The first half was bland, but the second half was exciting, with many big scenes and great special effects. I was attracted by Xiao Zhan's looks before, but this time his makeup made people pay more attention to his acting skills. I think his acting is OK, his lines are also very good, and his Mongolian is well received. The heroine is cute when she smiles, but Hua Zheng is too outstanding and overshadows the heroine as soon as she appears. Tony Leung Ka Fai is worthy of being the best actor. After watching this drama, I am a fan of Ouyang Feng. I have watched too many movies in the past two years and I am aesthetically fatigued. Xu Ke's martial arts films are eye-opening.

The righteousness of the country and the family is a belief that integrates the blood of the Chinese people and will never go out of date. The show I watched was basically full, and most of them came with their parents. I don't mean to say that other movies are bad. It is true that most of my parents are more interested in Xu Ke's martial arts. The end credits of the movie came out, and everyone didn't leave until it was completely over. Most people should be satisfied. At least for me, leaving the heated room and going out in the cold, I would be really angry if I spent money to watch a movie and it was not good. but I think The Legend of the Condor Heroes is worth watching. Finally, I want to complain about the official promotion. The highlight scenes are not used for promotion at all!

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Finally, let's talk about "The Legend of the Condor Heroes: The Greatest Hero". Tsui Hark is the best martial arts film director. The war scene between the two armies is simply too shocking!

The first 10 minutes are more than just grand and spectacular, it's simply going to blow the world away. Thousands of horses galloping and dust flying, the visual impact is so strong that it is worthy of being written by Tsui Hark.

The following story is full of romantic love and ruthless killing, and the huge contrast of alternating performances is like ice and fire.

What is the greatest hero? In order to protect one side, he is willing to give up everything and never bend. Whether it is against thousands of troops or fighting against Ouyang Feng, the Western Poison, Guo Jing and Huang Rong are both brave and courageous. Both the emotional drama and the fighting scenes are brilliant.

Guo Jing, portrayed by Xiao Zhan, has changed his previous image of being stupid and dull, and his resolute and vigorous spirit is refreshing.

Huang Rong, played by Zhuang Dafei, is no longer the wild girl who only knows how to cheat and deceive people. When it comes to the crucial moment, she is as brave as a man.

The performances of many supporting roles, such as Ouyang Feng played by Tony Leung Ka Fai and Hua Zheng played by Zhang Wenxin, are all outstanding.

Tsui Hark is undoubtedly the golden signboard of martial arts films. From the popular "Unbeatable in the East" to the benchmark-setting "New Dragon Inn", to today's classic, the overall performance of the actors, the extraordinary audio-visual feast, and the interpretation of the spirit of chivalry have all reached a level that amazes the audience.

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Tsui Hark's film "The Legend of the Condor Heroes" is quite a pleasant surprise. It restores many of the main characters and plots of the original novel "The Legend of the Condor Heroes". The visual impact is particularly shocking. It is indeed a masterpiece of Tsui Hark's martial arts. The movie is exciting. It not only has touching national justice, but also romantic love, the cruelty of war, and the pain of the people being displaced.

At the end of the plot, Guo Jing's dialogue with Genghis Khan clearly explains what the chivalrous spirit of "the greatest hero" is. It is not only reflected in the high martial arts, but more importantly, it is to have feelings and righteousness, care about the world, and be able to stand up in times of national crisis without considering personal safety and gains and losses. The value of "the greatest hero, for the country and the people" will make people cherish the precious peaceful environment now. When the familiar melody sounded, the call of "Brother Jing" and "Rong'er" instantly pulled back the highlights of the past years, and I couldn't help but think of the green years and college classmates chasing the TV series "The Legend of the Condor Heroes".

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Recommend "The Legend of the Condor Heroes", full house, more than half of them are from Hong Kong - three friends from the Greater Bay Area to Beijing and Xiangyang to watch the movie. In general, Tsui Hark's version of The Legend of the Condor Heroes still has his own distinctive style, especially the final game between Guo Jing and Ouyang Feng, which is very exciting. I was also very moved after watching it. The martial arts finally returned with the spirit of chivalrous and brave heroes. This spirit is not only needed in martial arts, but also in our era and this world. People like this are still needed to achieve and write.

A friend who works in the Greater Bay Area, "The Great Righteousness of Heroes and the Family Governing the Country and the World" - Watching "The Legend of the Condor Heroes"

I took the time to watch "The Legend of the Condor Heroes" today. Before the movie started, I made two surprising discoveries. The audience was almost full, and most of them were from Hong Kong. (Since I have lived, worked and studied in Hong Kong since the early 1990s, I can distinguish Hong Kong people and Hong Kong dialect.)

Therefore, Jin Yong's martial arts novels, TV and movies are the memories that accompanied my best years. Through his characters, Jin Yong explored themes such as loyalty, love, friendship, power, and desire, showing his deep understanding of human nature. But after watching the movie today, I have a deeper feeling than the chivalry of the martial arts world and the righteousness of the country.

In the movie, through the different levels of emotional interactions between Guo Jing and Huang Rong, between the master and the apprentice, and between the Mongolian brothers, I felt their deep friendship and chivalry. These have been the indispensable spiritual core of Chinese culture since ancient times. The chivalrous not only violates the law with force, but also walks the world with righteousness. They value their promises and put their lives aside, help the poor and the needy, and use their personal strength to maintain social fairness and justice.

In the movie, there was a dialogue between Guo Jing and the Khan on the battlefield that made me feel deeply. The Khan stared at Guo Jing and said, "I regret not giving you a Mongolian name." Guo Jing firmly replied, "Even if I have a Mongolian name, I still remember that my name is Guo Jing." ... ... The righteousness of chivalry is not only reflected in the protection of the weak, but also in the loyalty to the country and the nation. Such a deep-rooted sense of identity with the nation and the country. Throughout history, those Chinese compatriots who have made great achievements overseas and still resolutely repay their motherland are not so chivalrous!

I saw some comments online saying that this movie can be renamed "Guo Jing Chasing His Wife"... Most of them are negative comments. In fact, as an ordinary citizen, the first thing is of course the love for family and friends. If he can't love his family and handle the small family and small feelings well, how can he manage his family, govern the country and bring peace to the world? Managing the family means family harmony and a correct family style; governing the country means national stability and political clarity; bringing peace to the world means pursuing the great harmony of the world and the happiness of all people.

This concept emphasizes that the thoughts that Guo Jing's mother instilled in him since he was a child have always revolved around the gradual process of individuals, families, and then countries, and finally achieving world peace. This is also an important concept in Confucianism. I think the film team should have a very good understanding and grasp of the central idea and spirit expressed in this film. I think this is different from the previous films of Xu Laoguai, which are more profound thoughts.

The righteousness of chivalry and governing the country and bringing peace to the world by managing the family seem to belong to different fields, but in fact they have a profound internal connection. The righteous deeds of chivalrous people often start with the responsibility for the family, and then expand to the responsibility for the country and the nation. The righteousness of chivalry is the spiritual foundation of governing the country and bringing peace to the world by managing the family. Without the righteous deeds of chivalrous people, it is difficult for the family to be harmonious, the country to be stable, and the world to be peaceful.

In the long river of history, countless chivalrous people have promoted the progress of society with their righteous deeds. They may be hidden in the market or prominent in the court, but all of them put righteousness first and take the world as their responsibility. Their spirit has inspired generations of Chinese people to strive for the ideal of governing the country and bringing peace to the world by managing the family.

Today, we still need the righteousness of chivalry. In the process of modernization, social fairness and justice still need everyone to maintain. Each of us can become a chivalrous person, act righteously in the world, start from the family, and then influence the society, promote the progress of the country, and finally realize the ideal of universal peace.

The righteousness of chivalry and governing the country and bringing peace to the world by managing the family are not only the inheritance of history, but also our responsibility and mission today. Let us shoulder the responsibility of governing the country and bringing peace to the world with the spirit of a knight, and jointly create a better future.

In general, Tsui Hark's version of The Legend of the Condor Heroes shows the details and emotions of Jin Yong's original work, and still has his own distinctive style, especially the final game between Guo Jing and Ouyang Feng, which is very exciting and touching. The martial arts finally returned with the spirit of chivalrous and brave heroes. This spirit is not only needed in martial arts, but also in our era and this world. Such people are still needed to achieve and write.

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this one is very long and goes into detail about some plot points so feel free to go to the source.

Maybe it’s because I’ve praised The Legend of the Condor Heroes too much. Now in the information cocoon of Weibo, Weibo keeps pushing reviews of The Legend of the Condor Heroes to me. They are all overwhelmingly criticizing Director Tsui Hark and Xiao Zhan, and some of them are very fierce.

As I said in my last Weibo post, the quality of this movie has nothing to do with Xiao Zhan. He is Director Tsui Hark’s graphic tool man, and he has fulfilled his duties as an actor. There is not much to criticize in his acting, lines, and actions. Perhaps the only thing that can be blamed on him is that he is not a martial arts actor. If he or the other two or three leading actors had martial arts skills, Director Tsui Hark might not have made this movie, which was promoted as a "martial arts", almost completely without decent martial arts scenes, only fantasy qigong scenes like in cartoons. But it’s not Xiao Zhan’s fault.

So is the quality of Director Tsui Hark’s screenwriting and directing so bad that he is trampled on like this? As a literary youth who has watched countless movies since childhood and a semi-professional novelist, from my appreciation point of view, this movie is indeed not well made. But it’s not that bad. At least my 2 hours of time was not completely wasted. At least 30 to 40 minutes were high-quality viewing time. But it requires more thinking to understand.

In this final climax, the overall logic is very good, and Xiao Zhan's facial expression when he spread his arms, and the lines in Mongolian and Chinese are also very good. The biggest failure is that Huang Rong should not stand beside him. Who is Huang Rong? What is her relationship with the opposing army? Is there any emotional connection of life and death? Nothing. It is unwise for Huang Rong to stand beside him, which greatly weakens the logic behind this contradictory confrontation and the shocking effect of the scene. In addition, it also greatly weakens the charm of Guo Jing as the protagonist in this decisive scene. I don’t know if this big failure is the decision of director Tsui Hark or because of some inexplicable reasons of the investors.

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this is also very long but i will share the part about XZ and GJ.

After watching the movie with Jin Yong fans, I agreed that this version is quite innovative in shaping the character of Guo Jing compared to other versions, with less naivety and more maturity and perseverance. Xiao Zhan's interpretation of this version is sincere and decisive, and he became Guo Jing in the story in a rounded and non-sharp way.

I know a lot about the story, as an audience, I was not distracted for a minute during the movie. There was only the character of Guo Jing in the movie. What I still remember is Hua Zheng's description of Guo Jing: "You will know when you see him." Yes, you will definitely feel it when you see him in the movie world. Yes, this is Guo Jing. He is chivalrous and will never betray justice.

In addition, Xu Ge also respects female characters, and his favorite characters have always transcended the concept of gender. The adaptation of the rooftop confrontation between Huang Rong and Hua Zheng is very exciting. Female characters are no longer based on "who", but are more independent. My division is attacking in the south and will attack Xiangyang. I know that you are loyal to the country and risk your life to report it. I am sorry for your mother's tragic death, and I am ashamed to see you again. I have gone to the remote west to rely on my elder brother, and I will never set foot on my homeland again. May you take good care of yourself and live a long and happy life. The casting of Hua Zheng is extremely suitable for the free and easy and bloody nature of the grassland heroine that is highly summarized in the letter she gave to Guo Jing in the original work, which is very moving.

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First of all, I am not a fan of Xiao Zhan. I started to pay attention to Xiao Zhan because of a little girl who came to my company for internship a few years ago.

Secondly, there were so many people watching the movie. I watched it in the Dolby Hall today, and except for the first two rows, it was basically full. When everyone was waiting to be seated, they actually lined up at the door of the theater. I haven't seen it for many years.

Thirdly, I give the movie 8 points. I feel that the plot can be fuller (I vaguely feel that it has been cut), and Huang Rong is a little bit worse, although I like the last shot of Huang Rong pulling Guo Jing up to make a protective posture, which perfectly reflects that "Guo Jing is Huang Rong's world".

The last point is the reason why I strongly recommend it:

as a generation that grew up reading Jin Yong's novels. This version of Guo Jing should be the Guo Jing in Mr. Jin Yong's mind.

In the novel, Guo Jing is the character that Genghis Khan's daughter loves but cannot get and never marries. He is the character that Huang Yaoshi's daughter, who is proficient in piano, chess, calligraphy and painting, falls in love with at first sight. He is the character that all upright masters are willing to teach their lifelong skills.

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I watched The Legend of the Condor Heroes and here are 9 thoughts, some good and some bad. Please forgive me if I said something wrong:

1. The big scenes are quite good and magnificent, and must be praised.

2. Xiao Zhan is the most handsome Guo Jing in history, and his appearance is good, heroic and upright.

3. The greatest heroes protect the country and the people. Guo Jing rode alone to stop tens of thousands of Mongolian cavalry, and said to the Khan, "Heroes must have compassion..." This is Tsui Hark's public evaluation of heroes through the movie, which is very bold. If you don't see this, you underestimate Tsui Hark.

4. Hua Zheng's actor is well chosen, and everyone loves her. Guo Jing has no reason to refuse the marriage.

5. In the final battle, the Western Poison became a demon, and "martial arts" became "demon skills", which is a bit too much.

6. Huang Rong's spirit is gone, which makes people wonder how she can become the leader of the Beggars' Sect. But Zhuang's appearance is still okay.

7. There are more shots of Guo Jing's mother.

8. For some plots, such as the reunion of Guo Jing and Huang Rong, there is no need to go against the original work. Jin Yong wrote about the world of martial arts! It would be great to film it as it is, with lightning rods and dark rainy nights, which is so disgusting.

9. The old songs of The Legend of the Condor Heroes are very good, at least they set off a small part of the atmosphere and feelings. Classics cannot be surpassed, no matter how great the AI ​​can be, which makes people feel gratified about the future of art in the AI ​​era.

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The first movie for this year's Spring Festival was the most popular "The Legend of the Condor Heroes: The Greatest Hero". As a post-80s generation, I believe that many people, like me, have a strong obsession with The Condor Heroes, and also have their own images of Guo Jing and Huang Rong that suit them best. I was quite surprised that Xiao Zhan and Zhuang Dafei's interpretation of Huang Rong and Guo Jing exceeded my imagination. Guo Jing's persistence and honesty, and Huang Rong's eccentricity are all vividly portrayed on the screen.

The most moving part of the whole play is the handling of the conflict in the core plot, the national sentiment reflected by Guo Jing when he was faced with the choice between family affection and righteousness in the end, and his mother Li Ping's death in the face of national justice, all reflect the theme of the whole play - the greatest hero.

The ending of the story handles the plot between affection and righteousness very well, which is also a plus for this film

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AND TO THE LUCKY ONES WHO HAVE WATCHED IT VIA INTERNATIONAL SCREENINGS, I encourage you to make your own reviews & share it ✨😊

[dailynnt]

AURORA

༘✩ Summary: A relationship that survived a breakup but could not be forgotten. Like the northern lights that appear only at certain moments, their feelings had their peaks and troughs, but always remained on the horizon. You meet your ex at some event. The feelings are still alive.

༘✩ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ The Reader

༘✩Age restrictions: 18+

༘✩ Size: one shot

༘✩ Tags: ex to lovers, longing, smurt, cursing, sex, unprotected sex, detailed description of explicit scenes, alcohol

༘✩ Dedication: This work is dedicated to my beloved Armys. I wrote this work thinking of you. I hope this work resonates with you - @myjungkookthighs, @kelsyx33, @someoneelse0109, @mskookie, @kooccult, , @smokinghotstargirl , @curse-of-art

༘✩ From author: I have long dreamed of writing a story like this and here it is in one day. I tried my best for you and I really hope you will like the way I described the love that does not die, even if it seems that it is the end. Inspired by a song I found not so long ago and it immediately associated me with Jungkook💜❤️‍🔥💘 And I'll add another one, the lyrics of which are also here. Enjoy 🙏🏻🥰

You didn't expect to see him. You thought you would never see it again in your life. Certainly not here, among dozens of strangers, in a room flooded with soft light that resembled the glare of the northern lights. But he was here.

Your eyes meet and your heart skips a beat. He is approaching, accompanied by one of the organizers of the event you have come to. He keeps his eyes on you and you can't look away either. He seems to be the only one who could touch the strings of your soul, and they seem to be starting to pluck.

He approaches and stops a few steps away. He didn't expect to see you again either. Your last words had clearly created a great gulf between you that neither of you could cross.

He was not prepared for his heart to beat faster and his breath to become ragged, as if after a long run. But he couldn't show it, he had to control himself.

"Y/N would like to introduce you to one of our biggest sponsors. Jeon Jungkook." - He introduce Jungkook. "And Mr. Jeon, this is Y/N Y/L/N. She's a writer with whom our publishing house works." - Your eyes are greedy. You literally study each other, trying to find what has changed. And if anything has changed at all.

You look at him, waiting for him to behave. Will he pretend that you don't know each other? Or will he say that there is no need to introduce you? Because you used to be the whole world to each other.

"It's nice to meet you, Y/N." - Jungkook says. So he chooses not to be an acquaintance. Hmm, in fact, he is.

"Likewise." - You reply briefly and discreetly. Jungkook pulls your hand towards him and you put yours in his. An electric pulse goes through your whole body.

He has the same look in his eyes. The same movements you know. You used to know every detail about each other. And then you lost it.

This man in front of you was your ex-boyfriend. He was the man who made you feel like the world stopped when you were with him. He was your passion, your trusted friend, your lover. Everything between you was intense and pure, but like everything that burns brightly, it burned out. The breakup was hard and painful.

You felt your heart flutter at the familiar touch. It was more than physical contact - it was like coming home after a long journey. You didn't want it, but just like then, you couldn't shake this deep attachment. You tried to forget him, tried to let him go, but he was remained by you every day, in you every thought. And now, when your hand is back in his, you realized that you was never really ready to let go.

"I read your story. It's amazing. I'm not surprised why it's so successful." - Jungkook says, and you think you're going to fall through the floor. He's a great actor, you've always known that. But you're don’t. Even though your heart is burning with excitement and old feelings are bubbling to the surface, you think you have to go. You can't even let him be with you, because you'll lose all control.

But let's be honest, the walls you've been building for six months since the breakup has cracked. Just looking at him makes you want him to be yours again.

"I am sincerely grateful for your words. But to be honest, you don't strike me as someone who reads romance novels." - You can't contain your sarcasm. Jungkook laughs lightly, his husky voice vibrating, and this vibration ignite your bones.

"Actually, Mr. Jeon is a very creative person. He's a professional photographer." - The event organizer explains, not realizing how much these words can make your heart beat faster. Because you know his profession well.

Jungkook smiles, his eyes rest on you again, and his words sound as if he wants to share something more intimate.

"Yes, I often photograph couples." - He says, his voice softening as if he's immersed in his memories. "For me, photography is not just art, it's a way to feel emotions. Sometimes music, movies, or even novels can inspire moments that seem real only through the lens." - You can't help but smile. He's fended off your sarcastic attack, but the thing is, you doubt he could have read your novel.

Jungkook glances down at your red silk dress, which fits your figure perfectly, seductively emphasizing all the curves of your body. Curves that were once his territory. The curves he knows so well, the ones he's touched so many times

Jungkook holds his breath for a moment. He remembers how that delicate skin trembled under his fingers, how your breath grew deeper every time his hands traveled over your body. And now, looking at you, he feels an almost unbearable urge to run his fingertips over your collarbone again, to go lower, to run his hands around your waist, to put his hand on your lower back, where his touch always made you moan slightly.

His imagination shamelessly draws pictures of that red silk fabric slowly sliding off your body, revealing to him everything he remembers so well. His fingers involuntarily clench into a fist - the desire is too sharp, too real. He knows he has no right to touch you, knows that there is a gaping hole between you, created not only by hurt feelings but also by time.

But, damn it, how much he wants to reach out, to touch at least the ends of your hair, to run his fingers over your cheek, to feel the warmth of your skin again.

And then, when you finally catch his gaze, he quickly masks the thirst in his eyes with a barely noticeable smile. If only you knew what's going on in his head right now. If you knew that this evening is awakening in him what he has been trying to suppress for so long.

"Then I apologize for my hasty conclusions. I am sincerely grateful that you read my work." - You say and quickly add, because you can't stand Jungkook's company anymore. If he wants you to be strangers, you should stay strangers forever. "It was nice to meet you. Have a nice evening." - You say, giving the men a casual smile and walk away, barely able to keep yourself together. You don't let Jungkook know how much of an impact he has on you, even six months later.

After the breakup, your life turned into an endless marathon of forgetting, although in reality you were just trying not to remember. Your heart was cut like glass, and your mind was exhausted from trying to make yourself stronger. Every day you were learning a new role: a successful woman who was moving forward, even though your inner world was in ruins.

There was no shortage of men around. They came and went-attractive, confident, ready to give you everything you lacked. But each of them remained a shadow, and even the best moments with them felt empty compared to what you had with him. Those evenings when they spent together in bed, or just watching a movie in each other's arms, when there was no time, no space, nothing but your two hearts beating in unison.

You were trying to be "normal," trying to find your way and not think about him. If someone had told you six months ago that he would reappear in your life, you would have laughed, because you were sure that you would never let that happen again. You did everything you could to forget. You immersed yourself in work, wrote, traveled, had short-term meetings, but all of this was just a temporary escape from your own pain.

Over time, you thought, that you might actually be left alone, just to find myself again. You were no longer looking for someone who could give you back the feeling of the real connection that you had. It was your choice, your decision to try to relive this love that you couldn't forget.

But all fate decides. It's not interested in your plans or his plans. It has its own plan and it made sure that your paths crossed again. You are afraid that you won't be able to resist if Jungkook tries to make contact. You love him, but it's unlikely that you'll ever be together again.

The official event is over. You stay at the afterparty. When you enter the restaurant where the party is taking place, you feel a lot of stares. But you are not interested. You stayed after the event because you are excited. Because of the meeting with Jungkook, you can't get rid of the obsessive thoughts and feelings that want to find him and be with him until the morning.

You cautiously study the crowd around you. You don't find Jungkook. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you hope that he has already left, that your chance meeting was just a game of chance, and that's enough. But the part of you that never learned to forget him feels empty.

You stand at the bar, twirling your wine glass in your fingers, letting yourself relax. The atmosphere of an afterparty is lighter, more relaxed than an official event. People are laughing, the music is flowing with a soft rhythm, making your body sway slightly.

And then you feel it. A gaze. His gaze.

Like an echo of the past that won't let go. At first, you don't turn your head, don't give him that pleasure. But you can't stand it, and your eyes meet. You literally give him a second of your gaze, look away. This is enough for him. He comes closer, stands next to you. His perfume is a familiar scent that makes your pulse quicken. A scent that makes you almost crazy.

"Dancing?" - His voice is low, almost inaudible over the music, but it cuts to the core. You look up at him. His eyes are dark, deep, something has changed in them, but at the same time they are still the same. The eyes that looked at you with love and passion.

"I don't think that's a good idea." - You answer, sipping your wine so that he doesn't notice your excitement.

"Come on. It's just a dance." - He holds out his hand and you look at it. You hesitate, but the devil on your shoulder whispers: you want this. He wants this. Go. Go with him. It's just one night. And you make a choice. You put your hand in his.

He leads you to the dance floor. A slow, sensual melody fills the space between you. His hand on your waist is hot, his fingers gently squeezing the silk fabric of your dress. With his other hand, he holds your palm in his, gently but firmly.

You move to the music, his body almost touching yours. It's not just a dance - it's a dangerous game, a test of willpower. And you seem to have already lost. He has deprived you of all willpower.

You look into his eyes and try to understand what is in his mind. What does he want? Just to know what your life has become? Or does he want to try to cross the line? Jungkook's smile is mysterious. The hole from piercing on his lip stretches. You make a titanic effort not to look at his lips.

You dance, every movement a dangerous test. His hand slides to the small of your back and your breath hits you. He always touched you like this - confidently but slowly, as if he was savoring every moment.

But suddenly he leans a little closer, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

"It's... so familiar, isn't it?" - His voice is husky, and you know he feels the same way you do. It's an unrestrained desire to give in to the feelings that overwhelm you. You pull away and look up, catching his eyes. There, in their dark abyss, something forbidden flashes. Memories. A desire.

"It's in the past for me." - You lie. "The past should stay in the past." - You try to make your voice sound confident, but you don't seem to be succeeding. His hand presses lightly on your back.

"Do you really believe that?" - He asks. The silence between you says more than words. You are standing on the edge of an abyss where it is so easy to fall.

You don't know what to say. Your heart is pounding furiously in your chest, and your hands seem to remember what it feels like to touch it, to feel its warmth. You continue to move to the music, but now everything seems even slower, even more tense.

His fingers gently run down your back, a barely perceptible touch that leaves a pulsating trail. He leans in a little closer, his breath burning your skin.

"You say the past should stay where it is." - He smiles at the corner of his lips, as if he can read your thoughts. "But it seems to be catching up with us, Y/N."

You want to object, to say something prickly, but your body is treacherously drawn to him. His hand moves even lower down your back, almost on your buttocks. It makes you hold your breath. This is nothing. It's a game you've both played before. But didn't you know that things always go over the top with Jungkook?

You stop. He stops too. There are only a few centimeters between you, but it's enough to make every cell in your body burn.

"Jungkook..." - You whisper, not even knowing what you want to say. He looks at you, carefully, almost painfully slowly. His gaze slides across your face, lingers on your lips, and then meets yours again.

"Tell me I have to stop." - He whispers, leaning closer, barely touching your cheek with his nose. "I won't touch you unless you let me." - He says it quietly but confidently. And this is the cruelest thing. Because you don't know what will be worse for you - if he actually touches you or if he pulls away.

You want to tell him to stop. You really do. But instead, your fingers involuntarily clamp down on the fabric of his jacket, not allowing you to move away.

"I can't..." - You give up. So quickly, so foolishly. This admission was enough.

His lips touch your neck very lightly, causing a shiver to run through your body. You sigh, tilting your head as if to give him more access. And he does not refuse.

"Why do you still have this effect on me?" - You protest out loud. He was quiet, almost broken by his own feelings. He ran his fingers along your collarbone, causing your eyes to close.

"Because we never really let go of each other." - He said what you needed to hear. What you hadn't allowed yourself to admit for six months.

You inhale sharply, meeting his gaze. Deep, dark, full of desire. Another moment, and this thin line between temptation and prohibition disappear completely.

"Let's get out of here." - His voice sounded almost like an order, but you knew it was not just a desire. It was a need. Your shared need for each other.

You nodded, and he immediately took your hand, intertwining your fingers. You left the hall quickly, without looking back. The night city greeted you with cool air, but a fire burned inside you.

Jungkook opened the car door for you, and you got in, feeling your heart pounding madly in your chest. He quickly walked around the car, got behind the wheel, and in a moment you were already pulling out of the parking lot.

"Where are we going?" - You asked, even though the answer wasn't that important. Jungkook gave you a dark, hot, intoxicating look.

"To my place." - He answered. Your heart literally threatens to jump out of your chest. The sensation of butterflies in your stomach excites you to incredible emotions. He puts his tattooed hand on your thigh, as if to claim you. You can feel your underwear getting wet in anticipation of what will happen at Jungkook's house.

"This is crazy." - You say, barely audible. Jungkook smiled.

"And you like it." - He said, still smiling. You wanted to deny it, but why would you, when it's really true.

Jungkook closes the door behind you, and you immediately find yourself pressed against the wall. His lips are so demanding, so powerful over yours. Your insides tremble because it's all so familiar to you. It feels like the six months of separation just didn't happen.

Your hot breath mingled with his as he pulled away from you to take a breath. He was looking at your face. Your eyes were slightly squinted, your lips swollen from kissing, your skin burning from his touch. You were as beautiful as the first night he fell in love with you.

"Are we really going to do this?" - You asked. Your voice broke into a whisper as he ran his fingertips down your neck, along her collarbone, and even lower to the neckline of her dress.

"Yes..." - He says hoarsely, between kisses on your neck. "I should stop, shouldn't I?" - He asks your opinion. You want to moan as he bites your skin and then runs his tongue over the spot.

"Jungkook..." - You breathe out. You don't know if you're begging him to continue or to stop. He stops kissing your neck. Your faces are separated by a few centimeters.

"Last chance to say no, my love." - He says. Fuck, he called you "love," he called you that because he loved you, does he still love you? You ran your fingers along his jaw, gently but firmly.

"Do you want me to say it?" - You ask with a challenge. Let him decide too, you are not the only one responsible for your actions. He squeezes your buttocks with his hands.

"No." - Jungkook says confidently. You smile seductively, giving him the green light. But he's in no hurry to continue what he's started. You know he's waiting for the words.

"Fuck me, love." - You ask. Jungkook's cock twitches in his boxers when he hears those words. Fuck. How can you say that so easily? He's going crazy. He throws himself on your lips, pressing his strong body against yours. His tongue enters your mouth with authority and finds yours. Six months. Six fucking months he wanted you back. He dreamed that you would be in his hands like this. And he made a promise to himself that if he could get you back, he would never let you go again.

Your underwear is getting wet. You are so excited that you think you will burn with passion. Jungkook's tongue seems to be punishing you for being away for so long. His hands are squeezing the meat on your buttocks with good pressure. He picks you up in his arms, and you only cry out softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Jungkook puts you down on the floor in his bedroom, interrupting your unrestrained kisses. He lightly touches your silk shoulder and runs his finger under the strap of your dress. He sees your erect nipples through the fabric of your dress. One movement and the shoulder strap is on falling down. He does the same with the other strap. He pulls down the silk and it slides over your figure.

As the dress falls to the floor, gathering at your feet, a picture he literally imagined when he saw it at the party flashes before his eyes.

His cock hardens even more, because your naked body is a frenzy. It's his weakness. That's what makes him commit sin.

He takes your tits in his hands and squeezes it. He feels that you are real. That he is not dreaming about you, as he has been for the last six months. He bends down and eagerly sucks on your erect nipple. Oh, it's a rosebud on his tongue. It tastes so sweet. Jungkook plays with your nipple with his tongue. When he sucks harder, you feel pain, pain that brings pleasure and sweet agony. Jungkook massages the other breast in his hand, and then smoothly moves to the other breast to savor it as well.

You throw your head back and enjoy his actions. You're addicted to the way he crosses the line.

Your pussy is throbbing and you're wetter than ever. You haven't had intimate relations since you broke up with Jungkook, so now you're just going crazy with every move.

Jungkook pulls away from your chest and smiles. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his hard cock sticking out of his pants.

He comes close and puts one arm around your waist. You watch him closely. He leans in and you think he's going to kiss you. You even close your eyes, but when nothing happens, you open them to check where he is. He's right there, and he's wearing a cheeky, sly smile.

"Let's see how wet my girl is." - He suggests. His hand goes into your panties, instantly finding your excited clit. He presses his fingers on it and you forget how to breathe.

"Fuck. Honey, is this waterfall for me?" - He asks you, and you can't answer him because you're losing your mind to his movements on your clit. You moan, loud and seductive. Jungkook can't help but kiss you. He covers your lips with his own and kisses you deeply, hotly, while building up your orgasm with his fingers.

You moan into his lips. Jungkook plunges two fingers into your passage and wants to curse. He forgot how tight it is in here. He's angry, thinking that someone else could be in that pussy besides him. So his movements and kisses become rougher.

The pressure he creates with his fingers excites you even more. You like it, but it's not enough because it's not his cock.

Jungkook gently lays you down on the bed, which is so familiar. It has witnessed your love so many times. Jungkook pulls down your thong. He looks at your pussy with great greed, the thong sliding down your slender legs. When your underwear is in his hand, he is in no hurry to throw it away. He touches the fabric with his nose, inhaling your scent.

"This is what my love smells like." - He says. You blush. This is so damn intimate. Jungkook throws your thong somewhere near your dress at floor. You watching him.

He's still as handsome as ever. A slim, toned body where every muscle is visible when it moves. You know so well what those muscles are to the touch. Only he seems to have new tattoos on his right arm. You notice that the eye that was below the elbow is gone, and now there is a green ink mark that says "bulletproof" instead. Oh yes, it's really about him.

"Did you have sex with anyone after me?" - Jungkook distracts you from looking at his tattoos. You raise one eyebrow. Why would he want to know in the middle of your lovemaking?

"Why do you ask?" - You don't answer, but ask your own question. Jungkook takes off his pants and throws them somewhere else.

"Answer me." - He says with authority. And this word sounds more like an order. You resent this. Why do you have to talk to him about it? You, for example, know without a doubt that he has definitely fucked some girls.

"Does it matter to you?" - You ask, not listening to his order. It matters to him. He was your first man, and the thought of anyone touching your body, which is unprecedentedly his, pisses him off.

Jungkook takes off his boxers. You can see his cock, hard and erect, hitting his thighs. You salivate at the sight of it. Jungkook's nude figure drives you crazy. You dream of him entering you and finally destroying you and all your desires not to be with him.

Jungkook approaches you dangerously.

He grabs your ankle and pulls you to the edge of the bed with a sharp movement. You scream, not expecting him to do this. He sits you down on the edge of the bed and leans in almost touching you. His lips are near yours and his breath burns your skin.

"Answer me when I ask you questions. Because when I want to know something, it's important to me. So, will you tell me? Did some dickhead touch my pussy? Or at least your tits, which also belong to me?" - He speaks low and commanding. His voice echoes in your head. How does he have such power over you? Why are you so excited by these words? You want to tease him more. You know it could be dangerous, but you've always been a gambler.

"What would you do if I told you that dickhead were?" - You ask. Your words have an immediate effect on Jungkook. His eyebrows raise and his eyes darken with rage. He lifts you up, pulling on your arm. It doesn't hurt, but it's sharp. He presses you down and you feel his erect cock resting against your pussy.

"So you're saying you were?" - He asks, but his voice isn't as hard as he looks. "You promised you'd be mine alone. My little slut. You wouldn't let anyone fuck your pussy. You're lying to me." - He says, smiling defiantly.

"I didn't lie. I asked you what you would do if I was like you and found a free cock? Huh?" - You ask with the same audacity. Jungkook squeezes your buttocks.

"I'd wipe him off the face of the earth." - He says casually. "Because he touched something that's mine."

"I'm not yours." - You say. But what are you saying? You are his. Every cell of that body belongs to him. You can't be with other men because you've never met anyone who can compare to him.

"Mine." - He argues with a wide smile on his lips. It makes you angry, even though you agree with him. "You're still mine... that's why you're here now. No one can touch you like I can, no one can love you like I can, no one can fuck you like I can, no one can keep your secrets like I can. I will give you all of this, and I will never let you go." - The lump in your throat prevents you from breathing normally.

You hold back the tears that threaten to fall down. Let these words be true. Let him keep his promise. Because you want to be with him. Jungkook breaks into you with a kiss to assure you of his words. Two lonely tears drops melt between your hot kiss. Jungkook pulls away and you breathe heavily into his lips. He wipes away the tear tracks with his thumbs.

"I haven't had anyone." - You confess, your voice desperate. "I couldn't even bear a strange man touching my body. So you are right. I couldn't be with anyone else." - Jungkook smiles with satisfaction. He knew that.

Jungkook sits on the edge of the bed and invites you to sit on his lap. You climb on top, holding onto his shoulders. Jungkook's cock lies between you, and you look hopefully between your bodies. Jungkook touches your chin with two fingers and lifts it, forcing you to look at him.

"I need to stretch you first, baby. You haven't had sex in a long time." - Jungkook says with pleasure in his voice. You nod your head in agreement.

Jungkook puts one hand on your hip and moves the other to your pussy. He dips one finger into the passage and moves the top down, creating some friction. You sigh blissfully, closing your eyes. After a while, he plunges his other finger in. The pressure increases and you moan softly. And when Jungkook plunges his third finger in, you feel a slight discomfort. It's only his fingers, when he puts his cock in it will hurt.

Jungkook has stretched you properly, and then he invites you to ride him.

"Give me a good ride." - He asks you. You smile and get up to sit on his attractive cock. Jungkook puts his cock’s head against your entrance and presses. You slowly lower yourself and when his tip plunges into your passage, you almost immediately feel pain. You scream out in pain and he stops, but not for long. He gives you a few seconds and then pushes down on your hips, lowering you. You're in pain, and you bite your lip to hold back your screams.

Finally you are filled with his cock to the brim. You feel it twitching inside you.

"Fuckin' shit." - Jungkook curses. He holds back as best he can. He really forgot how tight you are.

You sit like this for no more than half a minute. In the meantime, Jungkook has been working on your clit to get you used to its length. You squeeze his shoulders. He kisses you and you want to get down to the real business.

You start moving on his hips, lifting yours. The first movements are accompanied by pain. But after a while it feels good. You squirm on his lap and let out strangled moans. Jungkook helps you by supporting your hips and admires his beloved's face. It eloquently shows pleasure.

"How do you like riding my cock? Huh, baby? Did you miss it?" - Jungkook asks playfully. His voice breaks because you're riding his cock so well.

"Yeah..." - You answer in a long breath. It feels so good, it's pure ecstasy, it's euphoria. You're chasing an orgasm and he's taking you there.

"Let's make this reconciliation unforgettable." - Jungkook suggests. He takes over the initiative with his hands. He squeezes your thighs harder and pushes you deep and sharp. Your head is spinning from these movements. You bite your lips again, but Jungkook moves closer to you. "Don't hold back the moans I deserve." - He orders. You stop biting your lips, and now your loud moans fill the entire room.

Jungkook has found just the right spot. You feel like you're about to come. Your fingernails tear off the skin on his shoulders.

"Love..." - You call out to him. "I'm close."

Jungkook absorbs your expression with an absolutely lustful gaze. He speeds up his movements, but not so that he can come. He's definitely not done with you yet. You raise and lower your hips on Jungkook's lap to finally have the orgasm you've been waiting for.

When the knot in your lower abdomen is untied, you throw your head back and moan long and hard. Your velvety walls are squeezed by Jungkook's cock, and he jerks you upward to keep from cumming himself. You don't realize it right away. Only when you're on your knees, resting your pussy against Jungkook's abs, and you feel his hands on your buttocks.

"What a good girl. You have your first orgasm." - He counts.

Jungkook orders you to lie down on the pillows and spread your legs for him. He positions himself between your legs without sinking into you. He kisses you on the lips, filling your mouth with his tongue. Your tongues intertwine in a dance of love and passion. When you need air, Jungkook breaks the kiss. He goes down to your jaw, then your neck. He savored every inch of your skin, memorizing it again, as if he were discovering something long forgotten but painfully familiar.

He covered your body with kisses until he was in front of your pussy. The memory of his tongue on your clit makes you wet. Jungkook kisses your folds with a weightless kiss, and you're already trembling. He smiles out of the corner of his mouth.

"I forgot how sweet she is." - He comments. You lift your head to see him between your legs. He kisses the inside of your thighs, not wanting to leave an inch of skin on you that he hasn't kissed.

When he begins to lick your clit, making circular motions around your clit, you can't hold your head up. You fall back on the pillows. Your back arches unconsciously. Jungkook squeezes your buttocks and then sucks on your center. You moan again, and Jungkook thinks he'll never get tired of the sound. He's happy that he's the only one who hears these sounds.

You come on his tongue very quickly. Your swollen, excited clit didn't need much attention. You jerk on his tongue and Jungkook presses his tongue against your center to make sure you have your second orgasm of the night as long as possible.

You stop twitching and breathe heavily. Jungkook kneels down by your spread legs and you can see his beard glistening with your juice. He wipes his chin with his hand and comes closer to you.

"Is my baby satisfied?" - He asks. You are almost unable to speak. You smile and barely speak.

"It was just as fucking gorgeous as ever.” - Jungkook laughs heartily, and once again wants to kiss you. You taste your cum on his tongue. His kisses become slower, deeper.

"I've been waiting for this for so long..." - His voice was quiet, almost hoarse, when he broke away from your lips. You, too, had secretly dreamed that you would have the opportunity to be together again. And who knows how it all will worked out.

Jungkook plunged into you again. His cock entered you painlessly this time. You couldn't get enough, because this is what you will always need. You bent to meet his touch, feeling your bodies merging in a single rhythm.

Every movement was slow, as if he wanted to prolong this moment as long as possible.

Jungkook knew every curve of your body, every weakness that made you sigh and tremble. But this time it was different. Deeper. Stronger. It wasn't just desire. It was something more.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as your lips found each other again. He was everything to you that night - a fire that burned from the inside out, and a sea that enveloped you in its waves.

He took his time.

You didn't want it to end.

Your breaths mingle, hot and uneven, as his movements become stronger. He feels a wave of some new emotions, as if he is rediscovering a familiar body.

"You have no idea how much I..." - Jungkook stops, his lips barely touching yours. You open your eyes and stare into his handsome face. You notice beads of sweat on his face and a few loose strands of hair.

"How much what?" - Your voice sounds almost hoarse, and he smiles because he knows you're on the verge.

"How much I missed you." - He finally whispers. You don't have time to say anything because Jungkook is pushing you. You lie in his arms. Your legs are intertwined around his waist. He is deep inside you and this is the best moment of the whole year.

His movements are slow and deep at first, but with each new one he speeds up. He fucks you like never before, and you close your eyes, enjoying the sensation. You feel another orgasm coming over you. Jungkook's hips thrust fast and you choke on the sweetest orgasm of the night.

Jungkook comes after you, filling you to the brim with cum. He jerks inside you for a while and stops only when he releases himself with a whimper.

He collapses into the crook of your neck and you both breathe heavily. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. His heavy breathing mingles with yours, and your heart hasn't yet returned to its normal rhythm. Your throat is dry, and you urgently need water.

Jungkook finally stands up and smiles at you with satisfaction. You reflexively do the same.

"You... water?" - Your voice breaks, and you're almost ashamed of how weak it sounds. Jungkook smiles slightly, realizing that you're asking him for water.

"Just a moment, my love." - He says and pecking on your lips. He gently pulls out of you. You try to sit up and cover yourself with the blanket you had sex on.

Jungkook puts on his boxers, finds a bottle of water on the table, unscrews the cap, and hands it to you. You take a few sips, trying to come to your senses. Jungkook sits down next to you, rests his hands on the bed on either side of your hips, and looks you straight in the eye.

"I don't want to let you go anymore." - He says clearly. You freeze.

"Jungkook..." - You want to say something, but you find yourself unceremoniously interrupted by him.

"I'm serious." - He interrupts. "I was an idiot for letting you leave back then. I thought it was for the best, that you and I would destroy each other if we stayed together. But you know what? It was even worse without you."

You look at him, feeling something hot squeezing your chest.

"I don't know if..." - If we should start again. You want to say. But he interrupts you again. The conversations during sex were frank, but now that you're back to reality, things are just as complicated as they were.

"I know." - His large hands gently wrap around yours. "And I'm going to do everything I can to make up for my mistakes. I don't want just one night, Y/N. I want everything. I want you. I want our future."

You see the sincerity in his dark eyes, and it almost scares you. You're afraid, even though you really want to start over.

"What if it doesn't work out again?" - You share your worries.

"I will make it work. Every day. Every time you doubt, I'll prove to you that I love you more than ever." - He leans in slowly, giving you a chance to stop him. But you don't. Your lips meet again, and this time the kiss is not so hot, not so hasty. It's deeper, more tender.

Like a hope.

Like a promise.

"Let's try again." - You agree. You look into his eyes, reading everything he didn't say out loud: fear, hope, devotion. Jungkook has never been a man to give up easily, and now he was proving it again.

Your fingers involuntarily squeeze his hand, as if checking to see if he is real, if this moment is real.

"Do you promise we will?"

He leans in even closer, his forehead touching yours.

"I promise." - He whispers. And this time you believe him.

Like the northern lights that appear only at certain moments, your feelings had their peaks and troughs, but they were always on the horizon. You could get lost in each other, disappear, losing light, but you came back, blooming with new colors.

Because your love is like the sky itself. Eternal. Unpredictable. And worth waiting for.

[cmdrfupa]

Masamichi Yaga ~~~~~~~~~~~~ New to this online dating so please, bare with me.Single. Divorced once. One grown son. Educator. I love knitting and crocheting. Looking for a needle to thread (I am sorry, this is cheesy but it's true.)

6.7k words (jjk au, fluff, smut, Yaga is a green flag)

a/n: Yaga, Yaga, Yaga. What a man. I wanted to give him love during the season of love. Enjoy and thank you for reading!

“Hello. My name is Masamichi Yaga and this is my twentieth years coming at the International Knitters and Stitchers Expo.” He spoke into the small vlogging microphone and watched as the interviewer rambled.

This was actually it. Year twenty. Year 10 of no longer being married and coming to these things. He wasn’t sure if it was the big banner showing his knitting clubs faces or seeing some of his long time friends bring their little ones to it this time around. But the feeling of being single and walking around wasn’t a pleasant one.

“Yaga! Its so good to see you again!” The elderly woman who was 2 feet shorter came up and gestured for a hug from the large man. “We would’ve missed your expertise for this years ‘Stitch your hearts or die’ event!

Yaga bent down to accept the warm, motherly hug before she pinched his cheek. “Good to see you also, Tita.” He took the badge with his name from the table:

Yaga M.

2025 K&SE

GOLD PASS

He didn’t hate this hobby of his. It was probably his favorite thing in the world outside of working in education. Student need a button put back on? Principal Yaga’s got it. Need a hem? He’s got his emergency kit on hand. Four newborns in the neonatal unit need some warm foot and hand mitts? Masamichi Yaga is on the scene with ten sets because he knows he will get a call for six more before the end of the month.

But twenty consecutive stitch expos for a man in his 40s is beginning to feel…

“Betsy cross-stitched some of the cutest flags for each of our home countries so we can wave them around during roll call! Gotta rep!”

He gave a half smile. “Yes ma’am..gotta rep.”

His group encircled him, smiling and greeting him as they would while he tried his best to stay in the moment.

He forced a smile. Another year surrounded by over three thousand people and he felt more alone than ever.

__________________

Yaga settled into bed post shower. It felt nice to be back in his own home after 4 days of nonstop conversation and photo ops with the “worlds largest knitting needle” recipient. He fell back into his routine: cleaning up, checking emails despite being off work for another 4 days, and meal prepped for the week before his wind down officially started.

He stared down at the open web-page on his phone, brows furrowed in concentration. "The Foolproof Guide to Dating: Master the First Three Dates and Win Their Heart!" The title alone should have been a red flag, but it had been a long time since he'd gone on a real date—long enough that he figured a little structure wouldn't hurt.

Yaga sat up in bed, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose and began to slowly read.

He tried not to be too hard on himself, it wasn’t as if he had time to fumble his way through modern dating customs. Between his work and his students, romance had taken a backseat for years. Now, thanks to Nanami’s insistence, he had a blind date scheduled with a woman who was supposedly going to be good for him.

He let out a breath and scrolled further.

“Date #1: Set the Perfect Tone!

Choose a location that showcases your best qualities.

Maintain strong eye contact to establish dominance. Let her know you mean business!

Pay a subtle compliment, but don’t overdo it! Keep her on the edge so she chases you!

Keep the conversation lighthearted yet intriguing. Who doesn’t love a man of mystery.”

  Yaga rubbed his temples. This was nonsense, wasn’t it? Showcase his best qualities? What did that even mean? Was he supposed to take her to a classroom and demonstrate his ability to keep a rowdy group of students in check? Pull out a ripped pair of pants and sew a patch on? He laughed silently, his large shoulders shaking as he put a sound to the belly laugh he expelled.

He sighed.”A man of mystery.” he repeated in a huff, setting his alarm and sitting his phone on the nightstand. “There’s no pressure, Yaga,” he talked to himself sternly, almost like a father speaking to his son the night of prom. “Its a date, not a wedding. Just enjoy the experience.” he turned over, closing his eyes to try and imagine what tomorrows date could result in. It was too late to back out now. He had to go in full speed.

The café Nanami suggested was a quiet, bookish kind of place, which Yaga appreciated. The soft hum of conversation, the scent of freshly brewed coffee, and the rows of bookshelves lining the back wall made it feel comfortable. Approachable. He could work with this. He settled into the arm chair, feeling confident in the afternoon.

Then you walked in.

He spotted you almost immediately and smiled, something warm and effortless about you. You stepped in like a dream. You waved at the barista and smiled, dress flowing as if you’d paid the wind to make it move with each step you took. Breathtaking.

“Uhh let’s do a honey latte with coconut milk today. And two lemon cookies, please.” He wondered what made you want a honey latte. Was it the honey? Perhaps you weren’t one for the strength of just straight coffee? His mind filled with scenarios as he watched you wait for your order.

“Yaga?” An unfamiliar voice walked up to him while he sipped his coffee.

“He’s not here.” His eyes stayed on you, not flinching.

“Sorry? Nanami told me you were my date?”

Shit. He turned to her and felt that guilty gut feeling at the confusion that stirred on her face.

“Oh gosh, so sorry. Yes, I-” He stood up and held his hand out and let her shake it. “I thought I saw someone I knew. My apologies. Call me Masamichi.”

“Oh! You’re okay. Happens to the best of us.”

“Would you like a beverage? I’ll get it for you.” he offered the chair right next to his. “Anything you fancy most?”

She pondered for a moment then smiled. “An americano with an extra shot of espresso.”

“Bold. You’ve got it.” He gave a warm smile and went to the front counter, walking past you as you scrolled on your phone waiting for your order.

He’s seen the viral clips of men bothering women and being called out about it. Was it really worth disturbing your peace?

‘Its for the best. And you’re on a date. Just leave it alone-’

“What are you thinking about getting?”

Your voice cut through his own dialogue and he froze from the neck down, turning to see you just a few steps closer to him. Your eyes were gentle, your voice sweet as honey.

“An americano.” he gruff voice lightened with his response. “With an extra shot of espresso.”

You raised your brow almost surprised at his answer. “Very… intense.” You laughed gently. “If you need something to help balance it out, I suggest the chocolate chunk muffin tops they have here. The perfect sweet treat to wash that down.”

“Oh, this isn’t for me. Its for my blind date.”

Amusement flickered across your expression and you looked subtly over your shoulder to see the woman sitting, waiting for you. "Exciting. Or nerve-wracking?"

He exhaled a quiet chuckle. "Both."

“Well, good luck to you! May the odds be in your favor.” Your order was called out and you grabbed your latte first, raising it in mock cheers before grabbing your plate of cookies and walking to a nearby table.

-

He sat across from his blind date, doing his best to focus. She was an amazing person—Nanami had vouched for her, after all. She had an easy smile, a soft voice, and seemed genuinely interested in getting to know him.

And yet, he kept glancing in your direction.

He tried to shake it off, returning his attention to the conversation. The guide had emphasized eye contact, active listening, and finding common ground. So he nodded along, asking genuine questions as he engaged in the conversation, offering polite responses. But every so often, his gaze drifted—just a flicker of a glance, quick enough that he hoped his date wouldn’t notice.

But he noticed. He noticed how you tucked a braid behind your ear, how you smiled at your book and widened your eyes and gasped in hopes of no one hearing you. How you tapped your fingers lightly against your coffee cup. It was distracting, pulling at the edges of his mind even as he tried to stay present.

Halfway through the date, he knew. He knew there wasn’t a connection—not the kind he was wanted to feel. His date was great, but she wasn’t the one keeping his attention without even trying.

By the time an hour had passed, Yaga took a breath and made up his mind.

“This was really nice,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. "You seem like a wonderful person, but… I don’t think there’s a connection here. I wanted to be honest with you before we parted ways."

His date blinked, then gave a small, understanding nod. "I appreciate that, actually. And I get it. No hard feelings. Good luck to your future dating trials."

They parted on good terms and Yaga walked her outside before he went back in to sit for a moment, tapping his fingers against the table trying to wrap his head around exactly what he was about to do.

He was never one to act on impulse. Impulsively buying a high dollar steak? Sure. But something in him told him he’d regret walking away without trying.

“Full speed ahead,”

So before he could talk himself out of it, he stood, walked over to your table, and cleared his throat.

"Hey. Uh." He shifted his weight slightly, suddenly aware of how ridiculous he must look—this broad-shouldered, serious-faced man struggling to find the right words.

You picked your head up from your book, a little surprised by his approach, “Americano! Hi!”

  "I know this might be a little unexpected, and I apologize. I know I told you I was on a blind date but… it has ended. I wanted to tell you that you are incredibly striking.”

Yous placed your bookmark and slowly closed your book. “Did you scare her off?”

“Oh no no. It’s just that there was no connection,” He tried to clarify his actions not realizing it may be doing more harm than good. “I found myself interested in getting to know you and I wanted to do it the right way.”

You couldn’t tell whether he was joking or just being a nuisance, but you were too intrigued to not find out.

So you sat quietly, smiling.

He cleared his throat. "Your, uh, shoes look sturdy."

A pause. Then, to his immense relief, you laughed.

"Wow. High praise. I was hoping to impress you with my charm after you decided to be so brazen, but if my footwear is winning points, I’ll take it."

Yaga felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders and laughed just loud enough for you to hear.

“To keep my momentum going, I’d love to take you out to lunch sometime to get to know you better.”

“What if I’m not single?” You stood up, letting your eyes trace over his defined shoulders and chest. “This would all be in vain.”

He hadn’t even thought of you being taken. His ears turned a shade of tomato red as he tried to figure out how he could recover from fumbling this badly. “I’ll pay for you next coffee if I’ve disrespected you and your partner. That wasn’t my intention.”

There was something endearing about this big man overthinking every other thought he had. It was obvious to you that he was not one for approaching strangers in public for things as informal as asking someone out. It was.. cute.

“After our first date, we can come here for a coffee then. I won’t say no to coffee with a handsome man with no name.”

“Cheeky.” You both laughed as he pulled out a card from his jacket pocket, passing it onto you gingerly. “Masamichi. And it would be my pleasure.”

=============================================

Six months. You’d been dating Masamichi for six and it was heaven on earth.

You’d come to know a mild giant for a partner. The perfect balance of love, laughter, and understanding. You’d complemented each other in every way imaginable, personalities intertwining like the branches of a sturdy oak tree, unshakable and resilient.

He was considerate, gentle, consistently showing that he would be there for you come hell or highwater. And you showed the same.

Two people swimming in the dating pool meeting by chance in a small pond.

Fate.

And now on your 6 month anniversary, you found yourself lost in thought, your mind wandering to the elephant in the room - or rather, the absence of it in your bedroom.

You sighed, tracing your fingers along the rim of the mug filled with now lukewarm green tea, a gift from Masamichi's grandfather. It was a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes about the sincerity and thoughtfulness that permeated your connection. Yet, despite the depth of your bond, there was one aspect of your relationship that remained unexplored, a chasm that seemed to grow wider with each passing day.

Masamichi was in the kitchen, the sound of pots and pans clattering as he prepared dinner, his humming a soothing melody that normally would have chased away any lingering doubts. But tonight, your mind was consumed by the gnawing uncertainty that had taken root in the pit of my stomach. You couldn't help but wonder if there was something wrong with you, if his hesitation to take your relationship to the next level was a sign of some deep-seated inadequacy.

You watched as he nodded his head along to the light jazz that filled the air. He was everything to you. And you didn't want to ruin the perfection you had cultivated together, the easy camaraderie and the deep respect that underpinned every interaction you’d shared all because it feels like you’re ovulating every other day.

But at the same time, the weight of the unspoken desires was beginning to take its toll, the deafening screams of wanting to be in the throws of passion grew louder with each passing day.

You knew you had to say something, to address the elephant in the room before it consumed you both. you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the conversation that was to come, and made your way to the kitchen, determined to confront the fears and insecurities that had been plaguing your thoughts for weeks on end.

Masamichi looked up as you entered, a warm smile playing on his lips as he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek. "Almost ready," he murmured.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to find the right words. Masamichi sensing the uneasiness in your demeanor, set down the spoon he was holding and turned to face your fully, his brows furrowed in concern.

"Hey, is everything alright? You look like you've got something on your mind," he asked softly, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze your shoulder.

You nodded, swallowing hard before speaking. "Masamichi, we need to talk. About us, about... our relationship," you spoke with intention, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes widened slightly, and you could see a flicker of uncertainty in their depths. He took a step back, running a hand through his hair as he seemed to grapple with his own thoughts.

"I fear I know where this is going," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration. “I know you said the crochet thing wasn’t a big deal but it becomes one. Its just part of me..” He untied the apron from around his waist and lifted it over his head. “I know it isn’t for everyone.”

What a man. You smiled, rubbing his bicep before pulling him to the couch. “No no. I like your hobbies. It isn’t that.” You sat him down, his dark eyes brewing a storm as he tried to figure out just what you could be referring to.”

“Chi, do you find me attractive?”

He looked shocked, almost offended at the question. “A goddess among us mere mortals. You are beyond gorgeous. Where is this coming from? Am I not calling you beautiful enough?”

“God, you make it real hard to be assertive when you’re this sappy.” biting your lip and faintly laughing, you cleared your throat to push through the conversation. "I know we haven't... I mean, we haven't taken that step, and I can't help but feel like I'm disappointing you somehow in the attractiveness factor or you may not be ready which is totally okay! I just want to at least talk about it."

He paused, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to find the right words. "The truth is, I want nothing more than to be intimate with you, to express the depth of my love and desire for you. But I'm scared," he confessed, his voice barely audible.

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his tone, and you reached out to take his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. "Masamichi, look at me," you followed his eyes, waiting for him to meet your gaze.

He did, and you could see the anguish and self-doubt swirling in his eyes. "You could never disappoint me," you assured him, thumb brushing against his cheek in a tender caress. "What we have is so special, so perfect, and I don't want to ruin it by rushing into something you may not be ready for."

You took a deep breath, choosing your next words carefully. "Masamichi. I love every part of you, including your kindness, your patience, and your unwavering commitment to our relationship. Our intimacy, whenever it happens, will be a natural progression of the love and connection we already share."

Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for saying that, for seeing me the way you do. I was so afraid that you thought there was something wrong with me, that I wasn't enough for you."

He pulled back slightly, his hands coming up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing the soft moon of your cheeks. "I love you so much," he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours once more. "I love your strength, your kindness, your unwavering faith in us. I don't want to mess this up, to do something that might hurt you or push you away."

You turned your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his palm before smiling. "You could never push me away, Masamichi. Your love, your respect, and your consideration for me are what make me fall in love with you more each day," You remarked, voice steady and sure. “And you’ll have to try harder if you want to get rid of me.”

Masamichi laughed, his wide shoulders moving as he enveloped you in his embrace. He closed his eyes, exhaling sharply with a shuddering breath. "Well you know I’m an older guy so it takes awhile to make sure my engines stay running for awhile.”

“Is there anything I could do to.. keep them running?” You were sincere in your curiosity.

Grinning and shaking his head, Masamichi squeezed your hand. “You could wink at me and the engine starts. Its just part of me getting a little older. I need time to..” He thought for a moment before continuing, “Time and maybe a boost to make sure the engine can run for as long as it needs to.”

“Oh!” you fanned him off, thinking you clearly understood what he meant until it actually clicked. Your brows raised. “Ohhhh..”

He chuckled, nodding. “Exactly.”

“Do you have that on like, standby? How does one obtain… engine boosting medication?”

“I’ll make an appointment and hopefully be seen next week. Easy as that.”

You hadn’t really thought about the implications of dating a ‘seasoned man’. He’s older, not old so you didn’t really think he’d need help I suppose. But it didn’t deter you by any means.

He was a one in a million kind of man and sex wasn’t everything to you. But he was.

“I want to do this right," he said, his voice filled with determination. "I want our first time to be perfect, to be a celebration of the love and intimacy we've built together. And I want to make sure that you're ready, that we're both ready, before we take that step."

“Respectfully, honey, I was ready the moment you picked up that love seat without breaking a sweat awhile back.”

“You’re an insatiable woman.” He leaned in, kissing you softly before lying you back onto the couch.

You nodded, a smile playing on your lips as you leaned in to press a soft kiss. “I’m sorry you are just too hot. I can’t help but be in awe of you.” you whispered against his lips.

“And just so we’re clear: I’ve thought of the many ways I want to ravish you. When I get my hands on you,” He ran his thumb ever so gently over your bottom lip. “I want you to be the only thing that can satiate my appetite.” His large hand traveled up your thigh, lightly allowing his knuckles to caress your soft skin until he stopped right at your inner thigh.

For the first time ever, you were rendered speechless, only nodding as he placed soft kisses across your collar bone and shoulder before meeting your lips.

His lips moving against yours with a tenderness and love that stole your breath away. "Together," he murmured, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. "We'll navigate this journey together, one step at a time, and build the perfect intimacy that we both deserve."

===========================================

As the candlelight flickered, creating the perfect cozy table for two, Masamichi couldn't help but steal glances of you from across the way.

The romantic dinner was going perfectly in his eyes. Dinner came out absolutely divine. He opted for the lighter style of Greek food to go along with the light and engaging conversation and playful banter flowing freely between the both of you. He had been looking forward to this moment for what felt like an eternity, his heart fluttering with anticipation and desire.

Reaching across the table, Masamichi gently took your hand, giving it a tender squeeze. "Tonight has been absolutely wonderful," he murmured, his thumb caressing your knuckles. "I'm so glad we could have this time together, just the two of us."

You smiled warmly, squeezing his hand in return. "I've been really looking forward to this," you admitted, a hint of mischief sparkling in your eyes. "And I don't just mean the delicious food and wine."

Masamichi felt a shiver run down his spine at the implication, his pulse quickening. "Is that so?" he asked, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Well, I think we both know where this night is headed, don't we?"

Slowly, deliberately, Masamichi stood up from his chair and walked around to his lover's side of the table. He held out a hand in invitation. "Dance with me?" he purred, wanting to feel your body pressed against his.

Accepting without hesitation, you rose gracefully to your feet. "I thought you'd never ask," you teased, melting into Masamichi's arms as he pulled you close.

He wrapped one arm around your waist, holding you flush against his expansive chest as he began to sway to the soft music playing in the background. His other hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to look at him. "You look stunning tonight." he whispered, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“Thank you. My boyfriend bought this for me.” You responded sweetly. “He said the color made me look like an ethereal beauty.”

He smiled down at you and continued to sway, the light air around him made him feel like he was in a romance film as you brought your lips to his, starting with a small peck that slowly moved into something more. He ran his finger tips down the center of your back, deepening the kiss the moment he felt your body shiver against him.

"I don't know how much longer I can control myself around you." He muttered against your lips.

Your eyes fluttered for a moment, a soft gasp escaping your throat. "Then don't," you breathed, leaning in to capture Masamichi's lips in a searing kiss. "I want you. So so badly.” you whispered into his mouth.

Masamichi's hands began to wander, exploring and caressing every curve of your body with a hunger that bordered on desperation. He slid his hands to the cutouts of your dress, relishing the feel of your soft, warm skin beneath his fingertips.

Breaking the kiss, Masamichi trailed his lips down the column of your throat, nibbling and sucking at the sensitive flesh. He could feel your pulse racing beneath his mouth, and it spurred him on, determined to mark you as his own.

Without thinking, he lifted you, an arm at the crease under your knees, carrying you bridal style towards his bedroom.

"Your skin tastes divine," he murmured against your throat, his voice rough with desire. "I want to leave my mark on every part of you, to show the world that you belong to me." He stepped to the edge of the bed and sat you down with the gentleness of a feather before he began to unbutton his shirt, his eyes never leaving you.

You could feel the heat of his gaze as he undressed. Watching the shirt fall to the ground your core tightened. That feeling flooded you.

His pecs were well defined, contoured by his chest hair. His body was hard, chiseled to perfection and for the first time, you were seeing it without any restrictions. He leaned over you, kissing the top of your head as he brought you up to your knees.

“Here. Let me help you.” He walked around to the side of the bed and sat on his knees behind you, running his knuckles along the straps of your dress, dragging slowly across the valley between your shoulders. He unzipped, leaving kisses on your newly exposed skin right until he got to your lower back

  He could feel you arching into his touch, your hands fighting to just reach behind you and pull him in by hair to hold him closer to you. "Yes," you hissed, tilting your head to give him better access. "Please, Masamichi… please..”

Masamichi groaned at the desperate plea, his hands sliding up to cup and squeeze the soft mounds of your breasts. He could feel your nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of your dress, and he couldn't resist taking one into his mouth, sucking and flicking his tongue over the sensitive peak. He let the dress fall to your thighs and reached around, taking a nipple into his mouth and groaning at the contact.

As he lavished attention on your breasts, his other hand slid down your stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties to cup your mound. He could feel the heat emanating from your core, and he knew you were just as aroused as he was.

"You're so wet for me already," he purred, rubbing his fingers along your clothed slit. "I love how responsive you are to my touch. It drives me wild."

He continued his sensual battle, alternating between kissing, licking, and nipping at every inch of skin he could reach. He wanted to overwrite every thought in your mind with pleasure, to make it so the only thing you could focus on was the feel of his hands and mouth on your body.

Lie back, I’ve got you,” He whispered before stepping off of the bed, cradling you before crawling over you with a wicked grin. "I'm going to worship every part of you tonight," he promised, his eyes dark with lust. "I'm going to worship every inch of your body," he promised. "I'm going to make you scream my name until it's the only thing you remember."

Pinning you with his hips, he attacked your neck with open-mouthed kisses and sharp nips, licking your skin before blowing light breaths on each patch.

Masamichi gazed down at you, The sight of your bare body, the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each anticipatory breath, sent a surge of desire coursing through him. He quickly shed the rest of his own clothing, eager to feel your skin against his own.

He settled himself between your spread thighs, his hands immediately going back to your breasts. He cupped the soft mounds, kneading and squeezing the pliant flesh as he brushed his thumbs over your nipples, feeling them stiffen under his touch.

He took his time lavishing attention on them, rolling and pinching the hardening peaks until you writhed beneath him, your back arching off the bed. His hands then trailed lower, skimming over your plush stomach, feeling your tense muscles flutter under his fingertips.

His thick digits dipped between your thighs, his fingers gliding through the slick heat he found there. He groaned at the evidence of your arousal, his cock throbbing with the need to be inside you. "You're so wet for me already," he murmured, circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. "I've barely touched you and you're dripping."

You whimpered, hips lifting to grind against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction. "It's because of you," you panted, voice high and needy. "The way you touch me...the things you do to my body...I can't help it."

Masamichi smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes. "And I plan to make you even wetter," he promised, before sliding two fingers deep inside your fluttering pussy.

Just his fingers, stretching you, filling you. He pumped his fingers in and out, curling them to hit that special spot that made you see stars. At the same time, he leaned down to capture one nipple in his mouth, suckling and flicking the sensitive bud with his tongue as he worked you over with his hand.

Your body was tensing and he could feel it. Your inner thigh muscles clenching around his invading fingers as you climbed closer and closer to your peak. He knew you were getting close already, and he wanted to push you over the edge.

Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers, ignoring your protesting whine but kissing between your breast then your lips.

“My beautiful angel,” he whispered against your lips, “Want to taste yourself?” He brought his soaked fingers between you, glistening under the dim light and smiled as you did. Running your tongue between his pointer and middle made his cock jump. “My good girl.” He brushed the back of his hand over your cheek and kissed you, twirling his tongue around yours to savor your taste.

His fingers dipped back between your thighs to rub slow, deliberate circles around your clit and you arched into him. He could feel how swollen and sensitive it was, how it throbbed against his touch like a tiny, aching heart. With that, he slipped one finger inside and continued his barbarous pace. You clenched around his digit before trying to form words, but nothing came out except more teary eyed moans.

He leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to claim every inch of your mouth. He swallowed your moans and whimpers, relishing the way you tasted, the way you felt pressed against him. He captured every whimper and moan as he quickened his pace, the sound of your wetness now being muffled by his hungry grunts and the sensation of that engine revving magic pill suddenly reaching the places it needed.

He continued to grind and rub, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Just as he felt you start to tense, your body coiling like a spring ready to snap, Masamichi pulled his fingers away, stroking his cock with his now soaked hand while he reached for the pillow next you, then lined himself up with you.

“Are you ready?” He asked softly, eyes looking into yours.

“Are you?”

He looked down to where you two were almost meeting and chuckled at just how red the head of his cock was. “Maybe a little too ready.”

You lifted your hips and he placed the pillow underneath you. “Then please. Have me.”

With one powerful thrust, he sheathed himself fully inside of you, burying his cock to the hilt in your tight, wet heat. You both cried out at the sudden intrusion, body stretching and accommodating his thick length.

“God damn it.” He groaned, his hips pressed flush against the back of your thighs as he cautiously placed one leg over his shoulder.

The feeling of his hard cock buried deep inside you was almost too much to bear. You could feel every throbbing inch of him, stretching you wider than you ever had been before. It was a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, and you never wanted it to end.

Masamichi gave you a moment to adjust, fighting the urge to start moving. He could feel your inner walls fluttering and clenching around him, trying to draw him even deeper. It took every ounce of his self-control not to start pounding into you like a wild animal.

Instead, he leaned down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulders and chest, his teeth grazing your skin. His hands slid up your sides to keep you with him, holding and caressing you as your heartbeat filled his ears.

Masamichi started to move, pulling his hips back until just the tip of his cock remained inside, before moving forward and burying himself to the hilt once more. He set a steady, deep rhythm, each thrust pushing the breath from your lungs in a rush.

"You feel incredible," he panted against your skin, his voice rough with pleasure. "So tight and perfect around my cock. I don't ever want to pull out."

The only thing you could muster was a moan in response, your body rocking forward with each of his intense thrusts. You reached a hand down to rub at your clit, desperate for the extra stimulation to push you over the edge.

Masamichi growled, a dark and feral sound, as he watched you lover touch youself. The sight of you lost in pleasure, impaled on his cock and chasing your own release, was almost enough to make him come undone right then and there.

He grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away and replacing it with his own. He rubbed at your clit with quick, firm circles, feeling it swell and throb under his touch. His other hand gripped your hip hard enough to leave bruises, holding you in place as he began to pound into you with wild abandon.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice a low rumble in your ear. "Come for me. Let me feel you come all over my cock. I need to feel you squeeze me like a vice as you scream my name.”

Masamichi could feel his lover's body tensing, your muscles pulling taut as you teetered on the brink of climax. He doubled his efforts, pounding into you with short, sharp thrusts that hit that special spot inside you with every drive of his hips.

"Yes, that's it," he urged, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Come on, baby. Let go. I want to feel you come undone, shatter in my arms."

You let out a high, keening cry, your back arching as your orgasm crashed like a tidal wave. Your inner walls clamped down around Masamichi's cock like a silken vice, rippling and fluttering as you came harder than you ever had before.

Masamichi groaned, the sensation of your pussy gripping him so tightly almost enough to make him lose control. But he held on, determined to bring you through your climax and prolong this feeling of pleasure for as long as possible.

He gentled his thrusts, rolling his hips in a slow, sensual circle as he worked you through the aftershocks. His hand never stopped its relentless rubbing at your now sensitive clit, coaxing out every last bit of your release until you were boneless and spent beneath.

Masamichi leaned down to capture your swollen lips in a deep, passionate kiss. He poured all of his love and desire into the kiss, wanting you to feel the depth of his feelings.

“Please.” The faint sound of your voice filled his ears, The shudders and tremors started to subside, and he finally let himself go. “Please cum for me.” You reached up to drag your nails down his torso and he threw his head back, losing every ounce of willpower he tried to hold onto. With a hoarse shout of your name, he buried himself as deep as he could go and pulled out the moment the flood gates opened.

He covered your stomach, spurt after spurt of his hot seed, painting you white as he emptied himself completely. His hips continued to rock and jerk, working himself through the intense pleasure until he had nothing left to give.

Collapsing onto his hands, caging you in, he peppered your neck and shoulders with soft kisses, his hand finding its way to roaming over your curves with a tender, almost reverent touch.

He finally mustered the energy to get up. “One moment, I need to get you a towel to clean you off.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and smiled before walking into the bathroom.

The grin on your face grew with each moment you lied there waiting for his return. The sound of the running water turning off made you sit up on and elbow.

His large figure walking back in made you feel butterflies.

“Hi.” you spoke softly, clearly giddy.

He grinned, sitting on the side of the bed and wiping your stomach with the warm towel. “Hello, darling.”

You giggled, bubbly and absolutely over the moon.

He finished cleaning you and went to toss the towel in a hamper before returning to your side, lying and immediately taking you in. You sighed contentedly, melting into his strong embrace.

You felt safe, cherished, and utterly fulfilled in his arms. His scent enveloped you, a mix of your own perfume and the musky aroma of sex, and it made you feel deliciously claimed.

His hands continued their gentle explorations, now soothing caresses rather than the heated touches of before. He ran his fingers through your soft coils brushing it back from your face, before trailing down to trace the delicate line of your jaw and the column of your throat.

The rise and fall of your chest pressed against his own, a soothing, hypnotic sensation that made him feel at peace.

Masamichi pressed a tender kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger for just a moment. "Being with you, like this...it's everything I've ever wanted."

You turned your head to meet his gaze, eyes soft and hazy with contentment. You reached up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over his lower lip in a loving caress. "For me too," you whispered, a small smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "I never want this moment to end."

Masamichi turned his head to press a kiss to your palm, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the taste and feel of your skin. "It doesn't have to," he promised, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "We can stay like this for as long as you want. I'll hold you all night long, if that's what you need."

Eyes shining with happiness. You snuggled back, tucking your body even closer to his own. "I want that,” you closed your eyes now, feeling the warmth of your deepened intimacy filling your heart. “I want that with you. Always.”

[seafoamreadings]

week of february 2nd, 2025

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: venus moves into your sign this week. while venus is classically debilitated in your sign, it just means the energy is not very natural to her. venus in aries is actually lovely as a force for the beauty of justice, and she can make you quite charismatic as well. embrace aesthetics and a little romance.

taurus: while many parts of your chart are active this week, the epicenter of activity is your career, reputation, and public image/status. there are changes coming to this realm and you will do well to put some effort into aligning those changes with the legacy you want to leave, the imprint you wish to make on the world.

gemini: you have great money vibes this week, especially if you are pursuing higher education, spirituality, or foreign travel. jupiter also goes direct in your sign this week, likely bringing helpful people. remember, it's auspicious to also be a helpful person yourself.

cancerians: if you need to do any reputation damage control or prettying up your social media or resume/cv, this week is a perfect time, especially once venus is ensconced in aries. in general you're going to have sort of low energy, so get lots of sleep!

leo: if a friends to lovers story is your idea of fun it's quite probable this week. you'll need to be looking out for it but it will be unmistakable when you do see it. and if that's not really your thing (or in addition to it) you can still make the most of the week's astrology by doing something really nice for a close friend, and appreciating them when they are there for you.

virgo: it's not the sort of week that you can expect things to go according to even your most impeccably laid plans. lean into your natural mutability and embrace unexpected changes instead of letting them chafe and irritate you.

libra: good air vibes continue. these are hard times broadly but for you on a personal level many good things occur and beauty exists everywhere. try to spread some of that to people who struggle more to see it.

scorpio: no matter how developed and complete you may have thought your spirituality to be, your philosophical approach to it continues to develop at light speed this week. don't try to dig in your heels about it but go with the flow instead. you are meant to change and not stagnate, fixed sign though you may be.

sagittarius: your ruling planet jupiter goes direct this week and you may even instantly feel like any stuckness in your life is magically undone and you can move forward (or at all) again. if stuckness hasn't been an issue rest assured good things are occurring for you behind the scenes if not before your eyes.

capricorn: your week consists of mainly minor influences but there is overall a push that you should be having fun, and not forcing yourself to go through rote motions for money or corporate points. it's not a bad time to "touch grass".

aquarius: jupiter direct brings you fun and even romance if you're open to it, but at the same time ceres in your sign square uranus in taurus is a strange standoff that can put you in somewhat unhealthy situations. try to form, or improve, a healthy and stable foundation so that when wobbly aspects like this come up you can regain your footing easily.

pisces: a surreal quality continues into this week. but now you may find you are a little bit more in your head than in some alternate dimension or dreamscape. keep one foot on the ground, and continue to avoid excess or addictive tendencies. indeed, it's not a bad idea to relax at home and see what good fortune just lands at your doorstep for now.

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