#i will defy logic and reason to get it. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 4 months ago

Text

amnesia — ryomen sukuna.

“Are you… are you playing a joke on me?” Sukuna’s voice wavered slightly as he tried to comprehend the situation. “It’s me. Sukuna. We… we know each other.” You shook your head slowly, an apologetic smile tugging at your lips. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t remember you. I had a really bad accident a few years ago, and… well, I lost my memories. Amnesia. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: sfw, fluff, angst, romance, hurt/ comfort, post - break up, amnesia, hurt, physical touch, memory loss, sadness, pain, pining, slowly getting back together, light-hearted, happy ending, getting back together, depictions of amnesia, depiction of pining, mention of grief, mention of accident, mention of pining, ex-boyfriend! sukuna, amnesiac! ex-girlfriend! reader, domestic uncle sukuna!, nephew!yuji;

WORD COUNT: 9.9k words

NOTE: the entire chapter is a sequel to drunk tonight and is set five years later. sukuna won second place at the poll again and i feel like this is my apology for sukuna for always making him an angst main lead. this was inspired by a filipino film called amnesia girl and its a funny drama-romcom. its available on youtube, but i dont know if there's subtitles!!! anyway, i hope you enjoy this and i hope you know how much i love yall 🫶🫶🫶

ADDENDUM: so......so long sukuna??? (manga readers iykyk)

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 1000;

if you want to, tip!

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

HE LIKED TO THINK HE COUNTED THE HOW LONG IT HAS BEEN WELL. Five long and painful years ago, you and Sukuna parted ways in what felt like an explosion of unresolved emotions and unmet expectations. Your relationship had been a tempestuous blend of fiery passion and constant turbulence, a rollercoaster of intense highs and devastating lows. From the beginning, it was clear that both of you had strong personalities, often clashing in ways that seemed impossible to reconcile.

The reasons for the breakup were numerous and complex. There was the perpetual danger that came with Sukuna's world, a constant reminder that you were living on the edge, with no guarantee of safety or stability. His life was fraught with peril, and the reality of that danger had taken its toll on both of you. You both knew that living under such stress was unsustainable, and it began to fray the bonds that had once held you together.

Your expectations, too, weighed heavily on the relationship. You had dreams and aspirations that seemed at odds with the life you were leading alongside Sukuna. The demands of his world often overshadowed your own needs, leading to a sense of neglect and disillusionment. It felt as though you were always putting yourself second, trying to accommodate the chaos that was Sukuna's life while struggling to maintain your own sense of self.

Despite the chaos and the inevitable breakdown, there was an undeniable connection between you—a bond that neither of you could completely sever. It was a connection that defied logic, a thread that seemed to pull you back together despite all efforts to move on. Both of you had tried to let go, to walk away and start anew, but the lingering feelings and shared history made it nearly impossible to fully break free.

Sukuna, in his own way, struggled with this as well. Even though the relationship had reached its breaking point, he found himself unable to completely let go of what you had shared. He was deeply aware of the toll that the relationship had taken on you, and he knew that you needed to prioritize yourself, your own well-being, and your own path forward. It was a painful realization, one that left him feeling hollow and lost, but he was determined not to be the reason you couldn't move forward.

In his mind, letting you go was the only way to truly show his love for you—to give you the space you needed to heal and grow. Even if it meant enduring his own misery, he accepted that it was a sacrifice he had to make. He knew that holding on would only serve to drag you both down further, and he wasn't willing to be the obstacle in your pursuit of happiness.

So, as time passed and the separation became a part of your history, Sukuna endured his own internal struggle. He remained in the shadows of your life, silently wishing for your happiness while grappling with his own feelings of loss and regret. He respected your decision and tried to move forward, even as he kept a part of himself tied to the memories of what once was.

But even then, you were truly something that made his life more than it was. You were the blossoms of his youth, the hope and vibrancy that had once colored his world. Your presence had breathed life into the mundane, transforming his days from mere existence into something filled with possibility and wonder.

His elder brother Jin had seen it all those years ago, recognizing the profound impact you had on Sukuna. Jin had often remarked on how you were a beacon of hope, a light that guided Sukuna through the darkest corners of his life. Your influence was undeniable, a force that had shaped him in ways he could hardly articulate.

Yet despite the depth of his feelings and the significance of what you had shared, Sukuna couldn’t escape the gnawing belief that he had ultimately failed you. He carried with him the heavy burden of the notion that he wasn’t good enough—never had been, never would be. The weight of this conviction was a constant companion, a shadow that loomed over every thought and action.

He remembered the countless moments of doubt, the times when he felt that his flaws, his imperfections, and the dangers of his world were too great a burden for you to bear. It was a painful realization, one that left him grappling with feelings of inadequacy. He wanted to be the person who could give you everything you deserved—love, stability, safety. But he feared that he fell short, that he could never truly be the partner you needed.

Even as he watched you move forward, find your own path, and build a life without him, he was haunted by the belief that he had let you down. He was acutely aware of all the ways he had failed to meet your expectations, to protect you from the chaos that had once defined your life together. He thought that perhaps he had been too caught up in his own struggles, too consumed by the demands of his world to fully appreciate what he had with you.

In his quieter moments, Sukuna wrestled with the idea that he would never be good enough for you, that he would never be able to offer you the kind of love and life you truly deserved. This belief became a part of him, shaping how he viewed himself and how he measured his worth. He felt that he had lost you not because of any one mistake or shortcoming, but because he was fundamentally flawed, incapable of providing the kind of relationship you needed.

And so, even as he grappled with his own pain and regrets, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were better off without him. The memory of what you had shared lingered like a bittersweet echo, a reminder of what could have been and what was lost. He had to come to terms with the fact that he might never be able to offer you the life you deserved, and that acceptance was a hard, painful lesson he had to learn.

Sukuna's struggle with these feelings was a testament to the depth of his love for you, a love that, despite its imperfections and its failures, had once been a source of profound meaning and transformation in his life. Even as he moved forward, he carried the weight of this truth with him—a reminder of what you had meant to him and the painful realization that, perhaps, he would never truly be good enough to have you back.

Sukuna sat in the corner of the room, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand, as he listened to his friend's banter. The atmosphere was lighter than it had been in years. Gojo, with his usual grin, was recounting some ridiculous tale of his latest escapade, while Uraume, ever the quiet observer, occasionally chimed in with dry comments that had the others laughing.

But Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t really paying attention. His mind kept drifting back to you—to the way your eyes had softened when you told him you wanted to give “us” a real chance, to the way you’d leaned into him, trusting and vulnerable in a way that made his chest tighten.

“Oi, Sukuna. You’re….” Gojo’s voice cut through his thoughts. “You’re awfully quiet tonight, bud. What's got you all broody, huh?”

Sukuna blinked, realizing he’d been staring into his glass for who knows how long. He knows he spaces out when he’s thinking, but when he’s thinking of you — he suppose the time can go on and he wouldn’t even notice. He looked up to find Gojo’s bright blue eyes fixed on him, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Uraume was watching him too, their expression unreadable but attentive.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Sukuna muttered, taking a sip of his drink. “Just thinking.”

“That’s a first from you, hm.” Uraume teased, earning a snort from Gojo.

“Come on, spill it!” Gojo pressed, leaning forward with that infuriatingly playful grin. “Is it a girl? I don’t mind if it’s a guy, I know you swing that way too! Oh, wait… don’t tell me it’s the girl.”

Sukuna’s dark scarlet eyes narrowed at him. “What are you talking about?”

Gojo’s grin widened. “The one you’ve been moping about for the last five years. Don’t think I didn’t notice, Sukuna. You’ve been different at work lately—quieter, more… I don’t know, introspective.”

“Gojo–san’s right, Sukuna–san.” Uraume added, their tone softer. “You’ve changed. It’s like you’re finally letting go of whatever it was that had you so wound up.”

Sukuna leaned back in his chair, feeling the weight of their words settle over him. He wasn’t used to being the one on the receiving end of their scrutiny, and he didn’t like it. But he also knew they weren’t wrong.

“Yeah, well……” Sukuna began, his voice rough, “I haven't seen her in a long while.. Five years, I think. But I heard…I heard she’s been around. She’s moved around town.”

Uraume raised their eyebrows. “Five years? That’s a long time, Sukuna–san.”

“Yeah. We were together throughout our senior high school and college. Then we broke up after we graduated.” Sukuna sighed, taking a long sip of his drink. The alcohol burned as it slid down his throat, but it did little to ease the ache that had settled in his chest. “It’s been a long time, but… hearing that she’s moved here just brings back a lot.”

Gojo’s eyes widened in surprise. “Was that breakup really that bad?” His usual grin faded, replaced by a look of concern as he sensed the gravity of Sukuna’s words. “What happened?”

Sukuna nodded, his gaze drifting away from Gojo’s intense stare. The room seemed to grow quieter as he delved into the past, the weight of his memories heavy in his voice. “We had multiple breakups. It wasn’t just one—there were several. But the last one was particularly rough. We both cried a lot, said things we didn’t mean. It was messy.”

Gojo leaned in, his curiosity piqued. “Why was it so difficult?”

Sukuna’s face tightened as he struggled to find the right words. “If I’m being honest, it’s my fault. I wasn’t secure in myself. I was jealous, possessive. I couldn’t handle the idea of her moving forward or being happy without me. And that jealousy, that insecurity—it hurt her more than I realized.”

There was a long pause as Sukuna’s confession hung in the air. Gojo’s usual bravado was replaced by a rare, contemplative silence. He took a moment to process Sukuna’s admission, trying to reconcile the man he knew with the vulnerability being revealed.

“That’s a lot to carry,” Gojo said finally, his voice softer than usual. “But it sounds like you’re taking responsibility, which is more than a lot of people do.”

Sukuna’s expression was a mix of regret and acceptance. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t change the past. I know I hurt her, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make up for that fully. But seeing her again… it’s brought everything back. The pain, the regret, and the memories of what we had.”

Uraume, who had been quietly listening, spoke up, their tone gentle. “It’s clear you’re still affected by this. Maybe it’s a chance for you to make things right, or at least find some closure. People change, and sometimes, revisiting the past can help us understand ourselves better.”

Sukuna nodded, though his expression remained somber. “Maybe. I’m not sure what will come of this. I just know that seeing her again made me realize how much I still care, how much I’ve changed, and how much I wish things could have been different.”

Gojo leaned back, his eyes thoughtful. “It sounds like you’ve been through a lot, and maybe this is a chance for you to show her the person you’ve become. It might not fix everything, but it could be a step toward healing—for both of you.”

Sukuna’s gaze softened, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “Yeah, maybe. It’s worth a shot.”

The room fell silent, the playful atmosphere dissolving as the weight of Sukuna's words sank in. Even Gojo, who was usually quick with a joke or a teasing remark, seemed at a loss for what to say. His usual bravado was replaced with something more thoughtful, almost solemn, as he processed what Sukuna had just revealed.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft clink of ice in Sukuna's glass as he set it down on the table. He could feel the eyes of his friends on him, but he kept his gaze fixed on the drink, not ready to meet their concerned looks just yet. The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken emotions.

“I hope the best for you, man.” Gojo finally muttered, leaning back in his chair as he exhaled slowly. His tone was softer than usual, lacking its typical teasing edge. “You deserve to be happy too.”

Sukuna snickered. “You must be drunk being this nice to me.”

“Hey! I am nice at all times.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Uraume, who had been listening quietly, leaned forward slightly, their expression gentle and understanding. They had always been more in tune with Sukuna's moods, more aware of the nuances in his behavior than Gojo, who often masked his own sensitivity with humor.

“If you bump into her again, though….” Uraume asked, their tone devoid of judgment, only curiosity and concern. “Would you try and talk to her, then?”

Sukuna finally looked up, meeting Uraume’s gaze. There was a hesitance in his eyes, as if he was still grappling with the reality of it all. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low, almost as if admitting it aloud made it more real. “I would. In a drop of a hat.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy with the weight of all the unspoken feelings that had built up over the years. It wasn’t just the fact that you had come back into his life; it was the realization that despite everything, despite the time and distance, Ryomen Sukuna had never really let go of you. He had buried those feelings deep, tried to move on, but now that you were here again, they had all come rushing back to the surface.

Gojo watched Sukuna carefully, his usual smirk gone, replaced with a rare expression of empathy. He knew Sukuna better than most, knew how much pride had always driven him, how hard it had been for him to admit his feelings even when things were good between the two of you. For Sukuna to open up like this now, it meant that whatever he was feeling ran deep.

“I get it.” Gojo said, his voice unusually quiet. “I mean, you guys were… well, you were everything to each other. It makes sense that she’s still on your mind.”

Uraume nodded in agreement. “It’s not surprising that you still think about her, Sukuna–san. What you had wasn’t just something you can forget, even if you wanted to.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, staring off into the distance as if trying to collect his thoughts. “It’s just… weird.” he finally said, his voice thick with the frustration he’d been holding back. “I’ve been trying to move on, to put all of that behind me. But I just….I want to see her again. Even just one more time.”

Gojo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he regarded Sukuna with a serious expression. “Maybe you’re not supposed to forget, man. Maybe this is your chance to figure out what you really want, to make things right.”

Uraume added quietly, “It’s not too late to change the narrative, Sukuna. If you still care about her, if she’s still on your mind after all this time, maybe there’s something there worth exploring.”

Sukuna closed his eyes for a moment, taking in their words. There was truth in what they were saying, and he knew it. He had spent so long trying to bury his feelings, convincing himself that it was over and done with. But the truth was, he had never truly moved on. And now, with you back in his life, even in this new, unfamiliar way, he couldn’t ignore the pull he felt toward you.

When he opened his eyes, there was a resolve in them that hadn’t been there before. “You’re probably right.” he admitted, his voice steady. “I’ve been running from this for too long. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I need to see this through. I owe it to myself, and… to her.”

Gojo’s grin returned, but it was softer, more genuine. “That’s the spirit, man. You’ve got this. Just… don’t screw it up this time, okay?”

Sukuna let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ll try not to.”

Uraume smiled softly, a rare display of emotion from them. “We’re here for you, Sukuna–san. Whatever you need, just say the word.”

Sukuna nodded, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he wasn’t alone in this. With Gojo and Uraume by his side, he knew he could face whatever came next, even if it meant confronting the feelings he had buried for so long.

One more drink and the conversation shifted back to lighter topics, the tension that had hung in the air slowly dissipated. But the resolve in Sukuna’s heart remained, stronger than ever. He knew what he had to do, and for the first time in years, he felt ready to face it head-on,

As the night wore on, Sukuna couldn’t help but think about the future—about what it would be like to build something real with you this time, something lasting. The thought scared him, but it also excited him in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

Maybe, just maybe, this time he could get it right. And with Gojo and Uraume by his side, he knew he wouldn’t have to do it alone. But the hour is late. And they’ve got things going on in their lives too. So they pay their bills and wave him goodbye.

As he watches his comrades pair off, he is forced to confront a painful truth. Despite years of searching, no one has been able to replace you. The women he's met, the flings he's had—they were all distractions, mere shadows compared to what he had with you. Each time he tries to move forward, your memory pulls him back, the echo of your laughter, the way you challenged him like no one else ever did, and the warmth you once brought into his life, all refuse to fade.

In quiet moments, when he's alone, Ryomen Sukuna wrestles with the possibility that his true love, the one person who could truly understand and match his intensity, might have been you all along. The very thought frustrates and angers him, but deep down, he knows it's true. The idea that you could be happy with someone else, that you could have moved on, is a bitter pill to swallow.

But what can he do? Could he really go back to you after all this time, after all the hurt and pride that kept you apart? The thought of reaching out, of admitting that he hasn't been able to stop thinking about you, is terrifying in its vulnerability. Yet, the more he tries to resist, the more he finds himself wanting you back in his life.

Sukuna has always been a man of action, but this...this is different. It's not about power or control; it's about something far more fragile—his heart, his pride, and the chance of losing you all over again. The question that haunts him now is whether he can swallow that pride and take the risk, whether he can open himself up to the possibility that, just maybe, what he’s been searching for all these years was right in front of him all along.

And that possibility, terrifying as it may be, is the only thing that has ever truly scared him.

Sukuna's inner turmoil grows as the days pass. The world around him, once filled with the thrill of battles and the allure of endless conquests, now feels hollow and cold. He notices how his friends look at him, their eyes reflecting pity and concern. They know him too well, aware that behind his sharp words and defiant attitude, something is eating away at him.

He tries to brush it off, burying himself in work, in fights, in anything that will distract him. But no matter how hard he tries, his thoughts keep circling back to you. The memories come unbidden—your smile, the way you used to tease him, the way you understood him in a way no one else ever did. It's maddening, the way you haunt him, and yet he can't bring himself to let you go.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

IT WAS UNEXPECTED. It was that sort of day once again. Sukuna found himself in charge of his energetic nephew, Yuji, who had just been picked up from school. With his brother Jin and sister-in-law Kaori and Choso tied up with commitments for the weekend, Sukuna was left to manage Yuji. Given that he didn’t have to hit the gym or deal with work obligations that day, it seemed like a manageable task.

Ryomen Sukuna’s house was usually a quiet refuge from his chaotic world, but today it felt oddly empty. He doesn’t really like decorating that much, mostly because he has no time and mostly because he really doesn’t feel like it. But his nephew doesn’t seem to mind it every time he’s here. If there was something to distract the brat, then he doesn’t pay attention to everything else. Well, that and food. As he settled Yuji into the living room, Yuji’s curiosity quickly turned to hunger.

“Uncle Sukuna, I’m starving.” Yuji announced, making a beeline for the kitchen. “Do you have any natto? I could really go for some.”

Sukuna blinked, momentarily confused. “Natto? I don’t think I have any. Let me check.”

He shuffled into the kitchen, opening the fridge and peering inside. His search yielded nothing but a few cans of expired beans and a half-eaten pizza box. Sukuna eats out most of the time, because of work. If he does buy anything, it would be from the last time Yuji was here. And that was….a while ago. And just as much, there was no natto in sight.

“Uh, brat, I think we’re out of natto.” Sukuna said, returning to the living room with a sheepish grin. “And it looks like the rest of the fridge is pretty bare.”

Yuji’s eyes widened in disappointment. “But I was really looking forward to it!”

Sukuna rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. Looks like we’ll need to go out for groceries. How about we make it an adventure?”

Yuji’s face lit up at the prospect of an outing. “Okay! Can we get some ice cream too?”

Sukuna chuckled, relieved that Yuji’s mood had brightened. “Sure, ice cream it is. Let’s get going before your hunger turns into a full-blown meltdown, brat.”

As they left the house, Sukuna and Yuji made their way to the nearby supermarket. Yuji’s excitement was palpable, his small hands gripping the shopping cart handle as he eagerly pointed out various items he wanted to add to the list. Sukuna, trying to keep up, found himself both amused and exasperated by Yuji’s relentless energy and enthusiasm.

In the aisles of the supermarket, Sukuna pushed the cart while Yuji darted from one section to another, collecting snacks, fruits, and—of course—several packs of natto. Sukuna grabbed a few essentials and, true to his word, added some ice cream to the cart.

As they approached the checkout line, Sukuna glanced at Yuji, who was happily munching on a sample cookie from the store. The small bit of chocolate on Yuji’s cheek made him look even more cherubic and endearing. Sukuna’s lips twitched into a small smile, a rare moment of warmth slipping through his usually stoic facade.

“You know, I think I might need to keep a better stock of food for next time,” Sukuna said, his tone light.

Yuji, still with cookie crumbs on his face, grinned up at him. “And more natto!”

Sukuna couldn’t help but chuckle. The idea of having to stockpile natto just to keep his nephew happy was a new one, but it seemed like a worthwhile endeavor. He ruffled Yuji’s hair affectionately, feeling a soft, genuine affection for the boy.

“You’ve got it, brat. More natto it is.” Sukuna agreed, a rare, relaxed smile on his face.

As they loaded their groceries onto the conveyor belt, Sukuna glanced around, realizing how normal and mundane the experience was compared to the high-stakes, dangerous life he usually led. The simplicity of shopping for food and sharing a lighthearted moment with Yuji was both refreshing and oddly comforting.

Yuji, ever the energetic child, started pointing out items in the store with increasing enthusiasm. “Uncle Sukuna, look! They have those gummy candies you like!”

Sukuna gave a half-hearted, amused shrug. “Sure, toss them in. I guess I can indulge a bit today.”

As they made their way through the aisles, Yuji chatted away, filling the silence with stories about school and his friends. Sukuna wasn’t really paying attention, his mind elsewhere, when something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

There, at the end of the aisle, stood a familiar figure. The sight stopped Sukuna in his tracks, his eyes widening in disbelief. It was you.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. He watched as you browsed through the shelves, seemingly lost in thought. Your presence, once a distant memory, felt so strikingly real that Sukuna’s heart skipped a beat. The years seemed to melt away as he took in the sight of you.

At first, he didn’t recognize you. It was just a fleeting glimpse, the way your hair caught the light, the familiar way you moved. But then, as you reached for something on a high shelf, he saw your face, and his heart stopped.

It was you.

He couldn’t believe it at first. He thought maybe it was someone who just looked like you, or perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him, dredging up memories he’d tried so hard to bury. But the more he stared, the more certain he became. It was you.

Yuji, noticing Sukuna’s sudden pause, looked up. “Uncle Sukuna, what’s wrong?”

Sukuna swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure. “Uh, nothing, brat. Let’s just finish up here.”

But his gaze was fixed on you, unable to look away. You hadn’t noticed him yet, and Sukuna fought with the urge to approach you, unsure of what to say or do. The familiar mix of excitement and anxiety churned within him, a reminder of the past he had tried so hard to reconcile.

Yuji, still unaware of the significance of the moment, tugged on Sukuna’s sleeve. “Uncle Sukuna, can we go over there? I want to check if they have those chocolates I like!”

Sukuna nodded absently, allowing Yuji to lead him towards the end of the aisle where you stood. As they drew closer, Sukuna braced himself, trying to steady his racing heart. He needed to act normal, to approach you calmly despite the flood of emotions.

Without thinking, he handed the shopping basket to Yuji and began walking toward you. The world around him seemed to blur, the noise of the supermarket fading into the background. It was just you and him, the years that had passed suddenly meaningless.

When he reached you, he hesitated, unsure of what to say. His mind raced, a thousand questions and emotions fighting for dominance. He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t prepared for the possibility of seeing you again. But now that you were right in front of him, he couldn’t just walk away.

“Is that you?” He finally said it. He finally said your name. He could feel his entire body shake from nervousness. He didn’t notice until he said it that his voice was rougher than he intended.

You turned to him, blinking in confusion. Your eyes met his, and for a brief, electrifying moment, Sukuna saw the spark of recognition. It was fleeting, but it was there—an almost imperceptible flicker that hinted at a shared past. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a polite, detached expression.

“I’m sorry, but…” you began, your voice soft and apologetic. “Do I know you?”

The words hit Sukuna like a punch to the gut. The confusion on your face made no sense to him; how could you not remember him? The realization was like a cold wave crashing over him. He scanned your face more closely, noting the faint scar near your temple and the way your eyes seemed to search his face for something familiar but found nothing.

“Are you… are you playing a joke on me?” Sukuna’s voice wavered slightly as he tried to comprehend the situation. “It’s me. Sukuna. We… we know each other.”

You shook your head slowly, an apologetic smile tugging at your lips. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t remember you. I had a really bad accident a few years ago, and… well, I lost my memories. Amnesia. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Amnesia. The word hit him like a ton of bricks. All the anger, hurt, and regret that had simmered in him for years suddenly evaporated, replaced by something he couldn’t quite name. You didn’t remember him. You didn’t remember anything about your life together, the love you shared, or the pain that had driven you apart. He stared at you, struggling to process what you’d just told him. The person he’d spent years trying to forget had forgotten him completely. And it hurts. It burns. It…it kills him.

Sukuna’s heart sank as he struggled to process your words. The memories of the past, the shared moments, the intense connection—everything seemed to blur together in a confusing haze. He tried to hold onto the hope that maybe, somehow, there was a chance you might remember him later, but the reality of your situation was clear. You had no recollection of your time together.

“Right…” Sukuna muttered, his voice thick with emotions he didn’t quite know how to handle. “No, it’s… it’s fine.”

“I just… I feel like I’ve upset you,” you mumbled back, your eyes filled with sincere regret. “It’s been like this for a while. I’m really sorry.”

“No, no… it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. It was my fault,” Sukuna said, shaking his head, though the words felt hollow against the weight of his feelings.

You nodded, your gaze sympathetic. “No, please. It’s not. I understand. It must be hard to run into someone who doesn’t remember you. I’m truly sorry.”

There was a quiet moment between you, the weight of lost memories hanging heavily in the air. Sukuna, feeling the sting of both your absence and the reality of your condition, struggled to find the right words. He wanted to bridge the gap between what had been and what was now, but he found himself at a loss.

Before you could turn away, Sukuna took a deep breath, summoning the courage to speak. “Um… could I… could I have your number? Maybe… maybe we could talk sometime. If you’re okay with that.”

You looked at him, a flicker of surprise crossing your face. For a moment, you seemed to weigh his request, and then you nodded slowly. “Sure. I can give you my number. I’d like that.”

As you exchanged contact information, Sukuna felt a mixture of hope and apprehension. The act of sharing numbers was a small step, but it felt significant. It was a bridge to the possibility of rebuilding a connection, even if the past was shadowed by the uncertainty of your memory.

“Thank you,” Sukuna said quietly, his voice carrying a note of genuine gratitude. “I appreciate it.”

You gave him a warm, understanding smile. “Of course. I’ll be happy to talk whenever you’re ready. It’s… nice to have some help with my memories, even if it’s just a little.”

Before he could speak, Yuji tugged at Sukuna’s sleeve. “Uncle Sukuna, can we go home now? I’m tired.”

Sukuna glanced down at Yuji and then back at you, his heart heavy. “Yeah, Yuji. Let’s head out.”

As Sukuna began to walk away, he felt your gaze on him. The pain of seeing you again, only to find that you had no memory of their shared past, was almost too much to bear. The bittersweet encounter left him with a mix of longing and resignation. You smiled at Yuji and then to him. Yuji grinned back at you and waved back.

“Take care.” you called softly as he left the store with Yuji. Sukuna gave a small, subdued wave in response, his mind reeling from the encounter.

Once outside, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Yuji, noticing his uncle’s somber mood, looked up with concern. “Uncle Sukuna, are you okay?”

Sukuna forced a reassuring smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, Yuji. I’m fine. Just… a little surprised. Let’s get home.”

As they drove back, Sukuna’s thoughts were filled with the echoes of the past and the present reality. The encounter had stirred up old feelings, and the realization that you had lost your memories of him was both heartbreaking and profoundly unsettling. Yet, despite the pain, there was a strange sense of closure, as if seeing you again, even under these circumstances, had helped him come to terms with the unresolved aspects of their past.

As you walked away, Sukuna stood there, frozen in place, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Yuji came up beside him, his eyes wide with concern.

“Uncle Sukuna, are you okay? Who was that?”

Sukuna glanced at Yuji, then back at the aisle where you’d disappeared. He didn’t know how to answer that. He didn’t know how to explain that the person he’d never been able to forget had forgotten him entirely.

“That,” Sukuna finally said, his voice hollow, “was someone I used to know.”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

HE DOESN’T REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED AFTER. The days that followed were a blur for Sukuna. But he couldn’t help it. Your encounter in the supermarket had shaken him in a way he hadn’t expected. He tried to push it aside, tell himself that it didn’t matter, that you were just a part of his past. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face, the way you looked at him with no recognition, no anger, no pain—just blank politeness. It haunted him.

Yet, fate seemed determined to keep throwing the two of you together. A few days later, he saw you again, this time at a coffee shop. You were sitting by the window, a book in hand, oblivious to the world around you. Sukuna hesitated, debating whether to approach you, but before he could decide, you looked up and caught his eye. There was that same polite smile, and he found himself walking over to you before he could think better of it.

“Hi again.” you said, looking up at him with that same soft, apologetic expression. “We keep running into each other, don’t we?”

“Yeah…..” he replied, his voice rough. He wasn’t sure what to say. The awkwardness between you was palpable, the weight of the past pressing down on him in a way you couldn’t feel. But you didn’t know that, couldn’t know that, so you just smiled and gestured to the seat across from you.

“Would you like to join me?” you asked, your voice gentle, offering a small, tentative smile as you gestured to a nearby café table.

Sukuna hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t sure what he was doing or why he was putting himself through this, but there was something about being near you, even if you didn’t remember him, that soothed the ache in his chest.

“If you wouldn’t mind.” he finally said, his voice betraying the mix of emotions swirling inside him. He sat down across from you, the familiarity of the scene almost too much to bear. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away.

You giggled. “I don’t mind. Not at all.”

As you both settled in, the air between you was filled with an odd mix of tension and familiarity. You began to talk—small, inconsequential things at first. You mentioned how you liked the café’s atmosphere, how it had become one of your favorite spots since you moved here. Sukuna nodded along, trying to focus on the present moment rather than the flood of memories threatening to overwhelm him.

“You know….. “ you said after a moment, stirring your coffee absentmindedly, “it’s strange. I feel… comfortable with you. Like I’ve known you for a long time, even if I can’t remember it.”

Sukuna’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to tell you everything—to pour out the years of pain, regret, and longing he had carried since you’d been apart. But he knew it wouldn’t be fair to burden you with memories you didn’t share anymore. So instead, he offered a small, wistful smile.

“Maybe it’s just one of those thing.” he said softly, his eyes searching for yours. “Some people just click, I guess.”

You nodded, your gaze lingering on his face as if you were trying to piece together a puzzle. “Maybe. But still, it feels nice. Like I can trust you.”

Sukuna swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his emotions in check. “I’m glad,” he said quietly, his voice betraying the depth of his feelings despite his best efforts. “I’d like to be someone you can trust.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics after that, and the tension slowly eased. You talked about your life, your work, and the things you enjoyed. Sukuna listened intently, hanging on to every word, savoring the sound of your voice even if the stories were new to him.

As the minutes turned into an hour, Sukuna found himself relaxing. The ache in his chest dulled, replaced by a warmth that he hadn’t felt in years. It was as if, for the first time since you had parted ways, he could breathe a little easier. There was no rush, no pressure to define what this was or what it could become. Just the simple pleasure of being in your company again, however different it might be from the past.

When you finally stood up to leave, Ryomen Sukuna felt a pang of reluctance, but he knew this wasn’t the end. You had exchanged numbers, after all, and there was a possibility that this could lead to something more.

“I’m really glad we ran into each other.” you said, giving him a sincere smile. “I hope we can do this again sometime.”

“Me too.” Sukuna replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I’d like that.”

As you walked away, Sukuna remained seated for a moment, staring at the now-empty chair across from him. Despite the uncertainty of the future, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was his chance to make things right—to show you the kind of love and care he should have given you all those years ago. And as he left the café, he found himself smiling, a feeling of lightness in his chest that he hadn’t felt in far too long.

Like the wind, the days brushed by into weeks, these accidental meetings became more frequent. He’d see you at the park, at the grocery store, at the small bookstore you frequented. Each time, you greeted him with the same warmth, and each time, he felt the walls he’d built around his heart start to crumble a little more.

It was during one of these encounters, when you were sitting together on a bench at the park, that Sukuna realized something had changed. He wasn’t just dwelling on the past anymore. He wasn’t just seeing you as the woman he used to love, the one who’d left him behind. You were still that person, but you were also someone new, someone who’d been through their own struggles, their own pain.

And he’d changed too. He wasn’t the same man you’d walked away from five years ago. The anger, the recklessness, the pride that had once driven you apart had mellowed. He’d grown, learned from his mistakes, and now, sitting beside you, he realized that he wanted to make things right.

There was one afternoon where after you’d both finished your coffees at that familiar café, Sukuna finally found himself gathered the courage to speak again. He’d been thinking about this for days, the words tumbling over and over in his mind until they felt like second nature.

“Hey….” he began, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You looked at him, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “What is it?”

“I know you don’t remember me, or anything about… us, but I want you to know that I’m not the same person I was back then. I’ve changed. And I want to try again.” He paused, searching for the right words. “I want to make things right for you.”

There was a long silence as you absorbed his words. He could see the confusion in your eyes, the way you were trying to piece together something that felt like a missing puzzle in your mind. You wanted to know what it was. How to be complete, and yet you didn’t know how. Not even if your past thought he was what complete was. Finally, you spoke.

“Sukuna, I… I don’t know what to say. I don’t remember anything about us, about our past. But I can see that this means a lot to you, and that you’ve been carrying it with you for a long time.”

You paused, looking down at your hands, and then back at him. “I don’t know if I can ever get those memories back. But I do know that I enjoy spending time with you, that I feel comfortable around you. And maybe… maybe that’s a good place to start.”

His heart leapt at your words, hope flickering to life in a way it hadn’t in years. This was a second chance, an opportunity to rewrite the story that had once ended in heartbreak. He didn’t know what the future held, or if you would ever remember what you once had, but for the first time in a long time, he felt something close to peace.

Sukuna reached out, his hand brushing against yours, and you didn’t pull away. “Then let’s start there, hm?” he said quietly. “No pressure, no expectations. Just… us.”

You smiled, a genuine, warm smile that sent a wave of relief through him. “Just us,” you agreed.

And for the first time in five years, Sukuna felt like he was finally on the path to something real, something lasting. It wouldn’t be easy, but he was determined to prove that he could love you the way you deserved—this time, the right way.

As the weeks turned into months, Sukuna and you continued to meet, slowly rebuilding a connection that had once been lost. Each encounter felt like a tentative step forward, a cautious yet hopeful attempt to bridge the gap that had formed between you over the years. Yet, instead of the intense and sometimes overwhelming passion that had defined your past relationship, there was a newfound sense of calm and understanding between you both.

There was an ease between you now, a natural rhythm that felt different from the intense, almost chaotic bond you’d shared in the past. In the beginning, it was subtle—a shared smile over a mundane joke, the comfortable silence that fell between you as you walked side by side, the way your conversations flowed without the need to fill every gap with words. The pressure that once loomed over your relationship, demanding definitions and clarity, had dissipated, leaving space for something more genuine and unforced.

You found yourselves slipping into each other’s lives in small, almost imperceptible ways. Sukuna would pick up your favorite coffee without being asked, remembering the way you liked it just by heart. You’d invite him to a quiet dinner at your place, cooking together in the kitchen as you talked about everything and nothing. There were no grand gestures or declarations, just a quiet, steady presence that felt reassuring and right.

This time, there was no rush, no urgency to define what you were to each other. It was as if both of you understood that whatever this was, it needed to grow at its own pace. You’d learned from the past, from the way things had unraveled before, and there was an unspoken agreement that you wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. You allowed the relationship to unfold naturally, letting each moment build upon the last, like carefully stacking stones into a tower that could withstand the test of time.

Sukuna, too, had changed. The man who once wore his emotions like armor, who had always been so guarded and intense, was different now. There was a softness to him that hadn’t been there before—a willingness to listen, to be patient, to let things unfold without forcing them into place. He no longer felt the need to control every aspect of his life, and that included his relationship with you. He had learned to let go, to trust that if this was meant to be, it would be.

And in that trust, something beautiful began to grow. Your conversations deepened, moving beyond the surface-level topics that had once dominated your interactions. You talked about your dreams, your fears, the things that kept you awake at night. Sukuna shared pieces of himself that he had kept hidden for so long, opening up in ways he never had before. And you, in turn, felt safe enough to do the same.

There were moments when the past would resurface, like shadows lingering at the edges of your newfound connection. Memories of heated arguments, of painful goodbyes, would flicker in your minds, reminding you of how things had once gone wrong. But instead of letting those memories drag you down, you faced them together, acknowledging the hurt while choosing to move forward.

It wasn’t always easy. There were still days when doubts crept in, when the fear of repeating past mistakes threatened to pull you apart. But each time, you chose to stay, to work through it rather than run away. And with each challenge you faced, the bond between you grew stronger, more resilient.

Sukuna, who had once been so afraid of vulnerability, found himself looking forward to the moments he spent with you. The walls he had built around himself slowly crumbled, replaced by a quiet confidence in what you were building together. He no longer needed to prove himself, to assert control over his emotions or over you. Instead, he allowed himself to simply be—with you, in the present, without the burden of past regrets or future expectations.

You, too, noticed the change in yourself. The tension that had once gnawed at your heart, the constant questioning of whether you were enough or if this was right, had eased. You felt more secure, more at peace with where you were and where you were going. You trusted Sukuna in a way you hadn’t before, not just because he had changed, but because you had changed too.

As the months passed, the connection between you deepened, solidified by the quiet moments of understanding and the shared experiences that had brought you closer together. There was a sense of contentment that neither of you had anticipated—a feeling that, for the first time in a long time, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And so, you continued to meet, to grow together, allowing whatever this was to take shape in its own time. There was no rush, no urgency, only the quiet certainty that what you were building was worth the patience and the effort. You both knew that the past would always be a part of you, but it no longer defined you. Instead, it had become a foundation upon which you could build something new, something lasting.

In each other’s presence, you found a kind of peace that had once seemed elusive, and in that peace, you discovered the possibility of a future that was not just better than the past, but truly, deeply right.

Sukuna found himself looking forward to your meetings, the mundane moments that had once seemed trivial now holding a new significance. Whether it was a simple walk in the park, browsing through books together, or sharing a meal, these moments began to stitch together a new story between you, one that was quieter, more deliberate, and infinitely more meaningful.

But beneath the surface, Sukuna wrestled with his own emotions. The more time he spent with you, the more he realized just how much he had missed you—how much he had missed being close to someone who truly understood him. Yet, there was also the constant reminder that you didn’t remember him, that the memories of your past were locked away, possibly forever.

One afternoon, after you’d both finished a long walk along the river, you sat together on a bench, watching the water ripple in the sunlight. The conversation had lulled into a comfortable silence, and for a moment, Sukuna just watched you, taking in the way the light caught your hair, the serene expression on your face.

“Can I ask you something?” Sukuna finally said, breaking the silence.

You turned to him, nodding. “Of course.”

“Do you ever… feel like something’s missing? Like there’s a part of you that’s still out there, waiting to be found?”

You considered his question carefully before responding. “Sometimes.” you admitted. “There are moments when I feel like I’m on the edge of remembering something important, something that’s just out of reach. But I’ve learned to let go of the frustration. I’ve had to accept that those memories might never come back.”

Sukuna’s heart clenched at your words, the weight of your shared history pressing down on him. He wanted to tell you everything—to pour out the story of your love, the highs and lows, the way you had been everything to each other and how it had all fallen apart. But he held back, knowing that it wasn’t his place to force those memories on you.

Instead, he reached out and took your hand in his. “I don’t want to push you more than I already did.” he said quietly. “I just want you to know that I’m here, whatever happens. I’m not going anywhere this time.”

You squeezed his hand, offering him a gentle smile. “I know, Sukuna. And I appreciate that. I’ve come to trust you, even if I don’t remember our past. What matters to me now is the person you are today, the one I’m getting to know all over again.”

Those words gave Sukuna a sense of hope he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. He was no longer the man who had let his pride and anger destroy something precious. He had grown, learned from his mistakes, and now, he had a chance to show you that.

As the days passed, he became more intentional in his efforts to be there for you, to support you in ways he hadn’t before. He listened when you spoke, offered comfort when you needed it, and gave you space when you needed to process your thoughts. There was a quiet strength in the bond you were forming, a steady foundation that was being built brick by brick.

One evening, after you’d invited him over for dinner, you sat together on your couch, a comfortable silence settling between you after a long day. Sukuna glanced at you, his heart full of things he wanted to say but didn’t know how to put into words.

“I’ve been thinking….a lot.” you said suddenly, turning to face him. “About us.”

His breath caught in his throat, but he stayed quiet, waiting for you to continue. He could feel his heart pounding, the silence between you filled with unspoken tension. You looked at him tenderly, and those eyes—those eyes he had once loved so fiercely—held a warmth that stirred something deep within him. But this time, there was something different in your gaze, something he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t the same love he remembered, the love that had once consumed both of you. It was softer, more distant, as if it had been tempered by time and the loss of memories.

Sukuna wasn’t sure what that look meant, but he longed for the days when your eyes had been filled with nothing but love for him. He yearned for the intensity, the passion that had once been theirs. But deep down, he knew those days were gone, that you had changed, just as he had. And even though he wished for the impossible, he understood that the love you had once shared might never return in the way it had before.

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from hoping, from wanting you to look at him like that again, to feel that love again. But he knew, with a sinking certainty, that it was unlikely. Maybe this was his punishment, the price he had to pay for the mistakes he had made, for the years he had spent without you. Maybe fate was just that cruel, giving him a second chance only to remind him of what he had lost.

“I don’t remember our past, Sukuna.” you said softly, breaking the silence. Your voice was gentle, but there was a sincerity in it that made Sukuna’s chest tighten. “But I do know that I feel something when I’m with you. It’s not just comfort or friendship… it’s more. I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels right, being with you.”

Sukuna’s heart swelled with emotion, a mix of relief and longing coursing through him. He had waited so long to hear those words, to know that there was still something between you, even if it wasn’t exactly what he had expected. It wasn’t the grand declaration of love he had secretly hoped for, but it was something—a spark, a glimmer of the connection that had once bound you together.

He searched your face, looking for any sign of the emotions he had once known so well. But all he found was that same tender expression, tinged with a hint of uncertainty. It wasn’t love, not yet. But it was something. And for now, that was enough.

“I’m glad you feel that way.” he said, his voice thick with the emotions he was struggling to keep in check. “I don’t want to rush things, or push you to remember something that might never come back. I just… I want to be here with you, whatever that means.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I want that too, Sukuna. I don’t know what the future holds, but I’d like to find out—together.”

He felt a weight lift off his shoulders, the heavy burden of his regrets and fears easing, if only a little. This was far from the ending he had imagined, but it was a beginning, a chance to rebuild what had been lost. And maybe, just maybe, if he was patient and if he allowed things to unfold naturally, there could be something new between you, something that was just as meaningful as what you had once shared.

As you both stood there, the world around you fading into the background, Sukuna couldn’t help but think that perhaps fate wasn’t as cruel as he had feared. Maybe this was his second chance��not to reclaim the past, but to create something new, something even better than what had been before. And for the first time in years, he allowed himself to hope that this time, he wouldn’t let it slip through his fingers.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

epilogue

A few weeks after your heartfelt conversation with Sukuna, you find yourself at a park on a sunny afternoon. Sukuna had asked you to meet him there, mentioning that his nephew, Yuji, would be joining. You had heard a lot about Yuji from Sukuna—how the kid was full of energy, always getting into something, and how Sukuna had taken on a sort of protective role in his life. You were curious to see this side of Sukuna, the man who had once been all sharp edges and intensity.

As you approach the park, you spot Sukuna first, sitting on a bench with a somewhat exasperated look on his face. Beside him is a young boy, who is clearly trying to balance on the back of the bench with one foot, arms outstretched like he’s performing some kind of circus act.

“Careful, you brat.” Sukuna warns, his tone stern but not unkind. “You’re going to break your neck.”

Yuji, grinning from ear to ear, just laughs and hops down with a flourish. “I’m invincible, Uncle Sukuna!”

“Yeah, well, let’s not test that theory.” Sukuna mutters, but there’s a fondness in his voice that catches you off guard. “Your mom and dad will kill me.”

You approach them, smiling as Yuji notices you and waves enthusiastically. “Hi! You must be the one Uncle Sukuna’s always talking about!”

“Yuji!” Sukuna snaps, looking mortified. “I do not—”

Yuji doesn’t miss a beat, cutting him off. “He totally does! He’s always like, ‘I wonder if she’s gonna remember me today,’ or ‘Maybe she’ll cook something nice again.’”

Sukuna groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Kid, do you ever stop talking?”

You can’t help but laugh at the exchange, and Sukuna’s embarrassment only makes it funnier. “Nice to meet you, Yuji!” you say, crouching down to his level. “Your uncle’s right, though. You should be careful on that bench.”

Yuji shrugs, his smile never fading. “Uncle Sukuna’s always careful too, even though he acts all tough. But he’s really soft, especially when I get hurt. You should see him panic when I stub my toe.”

“Yuji!” Sukuna’s voice is a mix of frustration and resignation, clearly regretting bringing his nephew along.

You stand up, grinning at Sukuna. “I see you’ve got a little soft spot, huh?”

“Don’t listen to him.” Sukuna mutters, glaring at Yuji, who just laughs and runs off toward the playground. “He’s a menace.”

“Sure, sure.” you tease, nudging Sukuna lightly. “But you love it.”

Sukuna sighs, watching Yuji with an expression that’s a mix of exasperation and affection. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep him out of trouble.”

You slip your hand into Sukuna’s, squeezing it gently. “You’re doing a great job, Uncle Sukuna.”

He gives you a sidelong glance, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Don’t start calling me that too.”

“No promises.” you reply, laughing as you both watch Yuji play, his laughter filling the air. It’s a side of Sukuna you never expected to see, and you find yourself growing more and more fond of the man who, despite his rough edges, is soft in all the right places.

1K notes · View notes

springtyme · 9 months ago

Note

heyy love, could you do an aaron hotchner x fem bau reader where they dated in secretly for a while but then he broke up with her. the reason he broke up with her is because he is her boss and that always was something that made him feel doubtful about their relationship. it’s up to you if you want to end it with an happy ending.

thank youu

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐀𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 ♡

Thank you so much for the request, dear anon! Such a lovely one and I was so happy to write for Hotch! mwah <3

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader || Main masterlist || Spotify

summary: You suspect that you've been in love with Aaron Hotchner since you first laid eyes on him three years ago. Now you're on your way to Idaho to go on your first case together since he broke your heart two weeks ago.

word count: 4.5k

warnings/tags: Angst and fluff. Boss/employee relationship. Hurt/comfort. Heartbreak. Kissing. Sharing a bed. (first time I write for Hotch, so please bear with me) Haven't proof read yet. I don't know if I really like how it ended up tbh, but maybe it's just because I was really tired while writing it..?

You keep your gaze on the pages of the book, despite the words keep blurring together and after having read the same paragraph four times over, without even having registered what you have read. You’ve given up on actually getting any reading done, but you don’t want anyone talking to you right now and you still have almost four hours left before you land in Idaho. So you keep eyes glued to the book, hoping that the act of pretending to read will deter any unwanted conversation.

You can feel his eyes on you, not all the time, but you feel how his gaze occasionally lingers on you. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you sense his presence nonetheless.

Taking in a deep breath you look up from the book to steal a glance in his direction, catching his eye for a brief moment before he looks away. There’s a flicker of something in his expression, a hint of longing that mirrors your own. But just as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone, replaced by the stoic mask he wears so well as he continues his conversation with Derek.

The last two weeks have been painful, filled with a whirlwind of emotions and unanswered questions since Aaron had ended your relationship, before it even had a chance to really begin. It’s been three years since you joined the BAU and from the very beginning you had felt drawn to Aaron Hotchner in a way that defied logic and reason, like there was a connection between you that transcended the professional boundaries of boss and subordinate.

A silly crush is what it had started as, but the more you got to know him, the more you realized that what you felt was far more than just that. It was a deep, undeniable attraction, a connection that went beyond the surface level. And as time passed, that initial spark grew into something more profound, something that stirred your soul and filled your heart with warmth.

Sometimes you had let yourself hope that he felt the same way, that the moments of shared glances and unspoken words between you held a deeper meaning, but you had never dared act on it, or let yourself get your hopes up too high. The reality of Aaron’s position as your boss and the boundaries it imposed had always stood as a barrier. The unspoken rules of professionalism, the fear of risking his or your career and the harmony of the team had kept your feelings hidden, buried beneath layers of duty and obligation.

It was three months ago that things had changed between you. It had been a moment of vulnerability, a shared confession during a late-night conversation with the raw emotions of the aftermath of an exceptionally harrowing case that had laid bare the depths of your emotions, and the longing that had simmered beneath the surface for so long had reached a point of no return.

He had kissed you that night and it was sweet and tender, yet charged with unspoken desire and desperation. It was a moment of surrender, a brief glimpse into a world where the barriers between you could be broken down and the feelings you had both been suppressing could be allowed to flourish.

The next couple months had been a whirlwind of stolen moments and whispered confessions, each one deepening the bond between you in ways that words could never fully capture. There were secret meetings in secluded corners of the BAU office, stolen kisses in the quiet of the night, and shared glances that spoke volumes without a single word being uttered.

But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, a shadow began to loom over your newfound connection. Aaron had started to act distant and reserved, his once warm and affectionate demeanor now replaced by a noticeable aloofness. And two weeks ago on a night where the both of you had stayed late to finish some reports he had told you that it all had been a mistake, and that the two of you should maintain a strictly professional relationship moving forward.

His words had cut through the air with a sharp finality and landed like a heavy blow, shattering the fragile hope that had still lingered within you. Aaron’s eyes had been averted, unable to meet your gaze as he spoke the words that shattered your heart.

You steal another glance at Aaron, watching as he maintains his composure in conversation with Derek, his mask of professionalism firmly in place.

You turn back to your book, the words still a jumbled mess on the page. You can’t pretend to read anymore, not when your heart is heavy with memories and unspoken words. With a sigh, you close the book, making Emily, who is seated across the aisle, glance up from the case file she is reading with a questioning look.

You offer her a faint smile, attempting to convey a sense of normalcy despite the turmoil swirling within you.

“You okay?” she asks as she sets aside the case file. You appreciate her gesture, knowing that Emily’s intuition often went beyond words.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, the weight of unspoken emotions pressing down on you. With a small nod, you offer Emily a reassuring smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a lot on my mind,” you reply softly, the words carrying a weight that belie their simplicity.

Emily nods in understanding, her gaze holding a sense of sympathy. “He’s an idiot, by the way,” she says with a wry smile, and you feel how your heart stops for a second, panicking at the thought of Emily uncovering the truth of what has unfolded between you and Aaron.

“What do you mean?” you stammer, the words tumbling out before you can stop them, your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for Emily’s response.

Emily just smiles at you as she picks up her file again. “We’re profilers, it’s not hard to read between the lines,” Emily says with a knowing glint in her eyes, her smile reassuring and understanding. “And you’re not as hard to read as you think, it’s clear that you have been dating someone, you have been looking like a smitten kitten for months, it’s been really cute to see, by the way, but something has changed recently. You’ve been distant, and often lost in thought sulking,” Emily continues, her tone gentle yet perceptive.

It’s not like it really surprises you, given how perceptive Emily is, and how deeply you’ve been feeling the shifts in your relationship with Aaron, but you had still hoped that you could have hidden your feelings from colleagues.

“So, yeah, whoever he is that has you feeling like this is an idiot, you’re clearly a catch,” Emily says with a reassuring smile, her words carrying a sense of warmth and understanding.

You feel relief wash over you, though Emily has sensed that you’ve been heartbroken, she hasn’t figured out that it is your boss that has been the course of it.

“Thanks, Em,” you say, offering the dark haired woman a tired but grateful smile.

Emily returns your smile. “If you ever need to talk or just... not talk, I’m here,” she offers, her voice warm and reassuring.

“I appreciate that,” you say, and you do really mean it, but you know that you’re not ready to talk about any of this yet. “But I think I’ll try to take a nap first, hopefully clear my head a bit before we land.”

“Mm, sounds like a plan,”Emily responds with a soft chuckle.

Grabbing the blanket from the empty seat next to you, you lean back in your seat, engulfing your body in the soft, fluffy material.

Before closing your eyes you cast one last glance at Aaron, his profile etched against the soft glow of the cabin lights. The memories of stolen moments with stolen kisses floods your mind, mingling with the ache of his recent rejection. You feel a pang in your heart, a mix of longing and sorrow, as you turn away, curling up in your seat, closing your eyes to the world outside.

You pull the blanket closer around you, the soft warmth of the blanket envelops you, cocooning you in a sense of comfort and security, providing a shield against the turmoil of your heart. The gentle hum of the airplane engines lulls you into a state of relaxation, the rhythmic sound serving as a soothing backdrop to your thoughts and emotions.

As you feel yourself drifting further into the realm of sleep, your senses start to weaken, the sounds of the airplane cabin fading into a distant murmur and you barely register the tears gently sliding down your cheeks before you drift off.

· · · · ·

You’re softly pulled out of sleep by the gentle touch of a hand on your shoulder. As you slowly flutter your eyes open, the soft glow of the cabin lights illuminates the figure beside you.

“Hey, sleepyhead, we’re about to land,” Derek’s voice is warm and filled with a hint of amusement as he gently rouses you from your slumber.

You blink a few times, the remnants of sleep still lingering in your mind as you adjust to the reality of the present moment. With a small smile, you offer Derek a nod of gratitude. Slowly, you sit up in your seat, the blanket slipping off your shoulders as you get ready for touchdown.

As the plane begins its descent, you feel a mix of emotions swirling within you - longing, sorrow, and a hint of resignation. The turbulence of your heart echoes the turbulence in the jet cabin as you start dissenting onto a lower altitude.

As the cabin lights dim in preparation for landing, you look up to find Aaron’s eyes looking in your direction, his gaze briefly meeting yours before he looks away, a shadow covering his features in the soft glow. This would all be so much easier if he would stop looking at you all the time.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions as the plane continues its descent. The mix of longing and sorrow in your heart feels almost suffocating, but you push it aside. You have to focus, have to keep your head clear for the sake of the case, you are a professional and you are not going to let your emotions cloud your mind. As the wheels touch the runway with a slight jolt, signaling your arrival in Idaho, you

And as the team disembarks from the plane and makes their way to the awaiting SUVs, you feel a sense of resolve settling within you, happy to no longer be confined to the limited room of the jet cabin and as you step out into the crisp evening air, you release a sigh of relief.

You watch Aaron walk ahead of you, his posture rigid and his expression unreadable as he walks to one of the cars and you beeline for the other. You keep your gaze fixed outside the window for most of the car ride, watching the landscape pass by in a blur as the car speeds towards its destination, a little sleepy town about an hour away.

As you and the team arrive at the local police station, you can feel the tension between you and Aaron simmering just beneath the surface. The case at hand requires your full attention, and you push aside the turbulent thoughts and emotions that threaten to consume you as you focus on the task at hand.

Throughout the evening and early night, you work alongside the team, profiling the unsub and piecing together clues to hopefully catch the unsub before they strike again. The familiarity of the work, the rhythm of profiling and investigating grounding you in the present moment, making you go into a state of laser focused professionalism. You find a sense of purpose in the work you do, a reminder that you are more than the turmoil of your emotions.

But as the night wears on, the team regroups at the hotel to get a few hours of sleep before continuing the investigation in the morning. You find yourself standing outside the small hotel, looking up at the dark, star lit sky and as you turn to head inside and join the rest of the team, you feel your heart do a little jump in your chest as you see Aaron standing a few feet away, his gaze fixed on you, his usual stoic expression faltered, his brown eyes softening as they meet yours.

For a moment, the world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing in the quiet night, and suddenly, you know that the decision you have made to the hard choice you’ve struggled with for the past two weeks is the right one.

Without saying a word, you walk towards him, a mix of uncertainty and determination coursing through you. As you come to a stop in front of him, he opens his mouth to speak, but you raise a hand to silence him. “Not here,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper, and you gently take his hand, leading him towards a secluded corner of the hotel grounds.

As you come to a stop, you turn to face him, the dim light of the night casting shadows across his face. With a heavy sigh, you search his eyes for any sign of the man you once knew, the man who had kissed you with such tenderness and held you with such care, the man you think might’ve even loved you. You had loved him, had long before he kissed you, and you still love him.

“Aaron, I…” you begin, trailing off as you feel all the words in your head leave you as you look into his eyes, remembering that night he had kissed you for the first time. It had been a late night just like this one, it had been the first time you had ever called him by his first name.

“Let’s sit,” he says, his voice gentle yet strained, as he guides you to a nearby bench. You both sit in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between you. Finally, Aaron speaks, his voice raw with emotion. “I’m sorry for hurting you, for leading you on, for... for everything.” His words are filled with regret, and you can see the pain in his eyes, a pain that mirrors your own.

He reaches out his hand, hesitating before resting it on yours. His touch is soft and hesitant but filled with unspoken longing and you feel how your heart skips a beat, how you have missed the feeling of him touching you, even if it’s just the slightest of touches.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says, his voice now barely above a whisper.

‘But it did hurt, it hurt so, so much’, is what you want to say. But as you look into Aaron’s eyes, filled with regret and vulnerability, you find yourself unable to form the words, the intensity in the warm, chocolate brown depths of his gaze rendering you speechless. You see the conflict within him, the turmoil of emotions swirling beneath the surface, and you feel the need to avert your gaze.

You look down at his hand on yours, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine in the balm night air. For a moment, you allow yourself to savor the familiar sensation, the connection that still linger between you despite the circumstances.

Aaron’s hand tightens slightly around yours, a silent plea for understanding. “You deserve so much better than that,” he murmurs, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand.

You take a deep breath, the words forming in your mind before you speak them out loud. “Maybe I don’t want you to decide for me what I do and don’t deserve,” you say, looking up at him again, your voice steady despite the feelings swirling within you. Aaron’s eyes widen slightly at your words, a mix of emotions crossing his features.

Now it’s his turn to be lost for words, which for some reason seems to give you a bit more courage. You fill your lungs with another deep breath before opening your mouth.

“I’m quitting,” you declare, your voice firm and resolute. You’ve been struggling with making the decision, but as you look at Aaron now, face lit up by the soft moon light you know that it is the only decision for you, you are never gonna be able to let him go if you keep working for the BAU. “I’m turning in my resignation letter when we get back from this case.”

Aaron’s eyes widen in shock, his grip on your hand tightening even more as he processes your words. The weight of your statement hangs heavy in the air between you, the unspoken implications of what this means for both of you settling in. You can see how a myriad of emotions flicker across his face – surprise, concern, and perhaps a glimmer of something else that you can’t quite place.

“You can’t do that,” Aaron’s voice is firm but filled with a mix of concern and resignation, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt

You can’t help but feel a pang of hurt at his words, it’s not like you had expected him to be happy about your decision, but a little, and probably naive, part of you had hoped that he would acknowledge that it would be the solution to how the two of you could be together, hoped that he still wanted that. But you’re not leaving the BAU for the slim chance that you can be with Aaron. You’re quitting because it’s become clear to you that it is the only solution. If the only time you can push aside the pain of being around him is when you’re actively investigating a violent crime case, you have to let him go, and you can only do that by leaving the BAU.

“Yes, I can… I have to, I think,” you say firmly, yet you feel your heart breaking a little by the thought of leaving. “I need to do this for myself. For my own well-being,” you continue, your gaze unwavering as you look into his eyes. “I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when it’s not.”

Aaron remains silent for a moment, his expression unreadable as he processes your words. Finally, he sighs, a hint of resignation in his voice. “I never wanted it to come to this,” he admits, his voice heavy with regret.

“I know,” you reply softly, a tinge of sorrow coloring your words. “But we both knew the risks when we started this.”

“I should never have put you in this position,” Aaron says, his gaze dropping to the ground as he speaks. “I should never have kissed you that night. Ilet my own feelings cloud my judgment, and I hurt you in the process. I’m your boss, and I took advantage, and I-I hurt you, and…”

“No, look at me, please.” You reach out and gently cub his cheek in your hand, making him meet your gaze. “Aaron, it wasn’t just you. I wanted it too, I wanted to be with you,” you confess, your voice breaking slightly with emotion. “I wanted to take the risk because I thought it was worth it. And maybe it was, for a while. But we can’t keep going like this, Aaron. It’s not fair to either of us.”

Aaron’s eyes search yours, a mix of emotions swirling within their depths. “What are you saying?” he asks softly, his voice filled with a hint of desperation.

“I’m saying that I need to let you go,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to let go of this hope that maybe someday we could find a way to be together. I can’t keep holding on to something that’s only causing us both pain.” Tears gather in the corners of your eyes as you speak, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. But despite the pain, you feel a sense of clarity wash over you, a sense of liberation in finally speaking the truth.

Aaron’s eyes soften, his hand coming up to gently grasp yours that’s still cupping his cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice filled with regret and sorrow. You offer him a sad smile, tears finally spilling down your cheeks as you lean forward to press a soft kiss to his cheek before pulling away.

“Me too, Aaron,” you say softly, your voice filled with a mix of love and heartbreak. As you stand up from the bench, you turn to walk away, the weight of your decision settling in your heart. But before you can take a step, you feel a hand grasp yours, stopping you in your tracks. You turn back to see Aaron standing before you, his eyes filled with determination and a hint of something you can’t quite place.

“I...I can’t let you leave without saying this,” Aaron begins, his voice wavering slightly. “I’ve been a fool. I’ve let my own fears and insecurities cloud my judgment, and in the process, I’ve hurt you. But I can’t let you go without telling you that I love you. ”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the depth of his confession washing over you like a wave. For a moment, you feel a flicker of hope ignite within you, a spark of possibility that maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance for the two of you. “But what does that mean, Aaron?” you ask softly, your voice filled with a mix of hope and trepidation. “What are you saying?”

Aaron takes a deep breath, his gaze unwavering as he speaks. “I’m saying that I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to live with the regret of letting you slip away. I want to fight for a future where you are a part of my life. I know it won’t be easy, I know there are risks and complications, but I can’t let you go without at least trying cause I love you.”

Tears stream down your cheeks as you look into Aaron’s eyes, the sincerity and love shining within them filling your heart with warmth and longing. Taking a step closer to Aaron, you reach out to cup his face in your hands, meeting his gaze with determination.

“I love you, too. I think I’ve loved you from the moment I met you.”

Aaron’s eyes widen in surprise, a mix of emotions flickering across his features. Without another word, he closes the distance between the two of you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss filled with passion and longing. The world falls away as you melt into each other, lost in the moment of shared love and desire as the man you love kisses you under the moonlight.

The kiss deepens, becoming a promise of the future you both want to fight for, a pledge to overcome the obstacles that stand in your way, a balm for the weeks of heartbreak. And as you break apart, breathless and filled with emotion, you feel how your entire body shivers, already missing the feeling of Aaron’s warm lips against yours.

“You’re freezing,” Aaron frowns, quickly shredding himself of his suit jacket and draping it around your shoulders before wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. “Let’s get you inside.”

You nod, your heart swelling with hope and love as he takes your hand in his, leading you back to the hotel. Hotel might be a little generous; it’s more of a bed and breakfast, with so few rooms that the team had to pair up and share, but it was the only accommodation in town and it is not like you and the team aren’t used to having to share rooms from time to time.

It turns out the rest of the team has already paired up and hit the hay, leaving only one room since you’re the last two to arrive. “Looks like you and I’ll have to share a room,” you say, a small smile playing on your lips, an hour ago you would be horrified by it, but now you’re absolutely thrilled about it.

“Yeah, looks like it,” he says with a soft smile on his face as you get your keys before taking your hand in his again and leading you to your shared room.

As you step inside, the warmth of the room envelops you, melding with the warmth of Aaron’s touch as he pulls you into his arms, his lips finding yours once more in a sweet, tender embrace. In the dim light of the hotel room, with the moon casting a soft glow through the curtains, the emotions swirling within you are no longer suffocating, but freeing, as you surrender to the love that has bound the two of you together.

As you finally break apart and look around it turns out that the room is a twin room, with two beds divided by a bedside table. It makes sense that your coworkers didn’t leave you to share a room with a shared bed.

You share a knowing look with him before the both of you start to quickly get ready for bed, it’s late and you’re both exhausted and there is only a few hours till you’ll need to get up again.

You share one last kiss before moving to your respective beds, but as you lay there, the distance between you feels unbearable. The man you have been pining over for three years has just a little while ago told you that he loves you after weeks of heartbreak and he lies so close yet you can’t even touch him? That’s ridiculous!

“I can’t do this,” you whisper, your voice filled with longing as you look at Aaron.

“I know,” he replies, his voice just as filled with yearning as he pulls his covers to the side letting you slip into the bed with him.

You settle into his arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, and you feel as if you’re finally coming home. The walls that had been built between you are crumbling down, allowing you to embrace the love that has always been between you.

As you snuggle closer to Aaron, his arms wrapped tightly around you, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. The turmoil of the past weeks fades away, replaced by a deep sense of contentment and love.

“I’m never letting you go again,” Aaron whispers, his breath warm against your ear, and you know that he means it. And you know that you never want to let him go either.

With a smile on your face, and your heart full of love and hope, you drift off to sleep in the arms of the man you love, knowing that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you will face them together.

2K notes · View notes

ashuzu44 · 3 months ago

Text

appearance change hack

This could be interpreted as perhaps a way to help your manifestations especially appearance change ones, when maybe you feel defied by logic while affirming. You can modify your affirmations by instead of saying, "My xyz is perfect, I have the perfect xyz" add something logical to that. For example to get plumper lips you affirm saying, "My lips are so plump because i got lip fillers." Now while you haven't gotten them youre providing a 'reason' for your conscious logical mind to be shushed.

you: My nose is so perfect logical reasoning: why what hello you: um because i got like a rhinoplasty done? logical reasoning: oh okay u good bro

THIS IS JUST TO AID THOSE WHO CONSTANTLY HAVE CONFLICTING THOUGHTS ESP W APPEARANCE CHANGES

xoxo, karina

699 notes · View notes

solxamber · 3 months ago

Text

Rest Assured - Jamil Viper x reader

4 times you see Jamil nearing his breaking point and the 1 time you intervene

You’ve always prided yourself on being observant. Some might call it nosy, but you prefer thoughtful. After all, if you didn’t keep an eye on things, who would? Especially when it came to someone like Jamil Viper, who, despite his best efforts to appear unfazed, was absolutely not fine.

And lately, it’s been like watching a train wreck in slow motion.

The guy was practically doing everything—cooking, cleaning, managing Kalim, studying, practicing, and dealing with an endless amount of Scarabia chaos. But today? Today felt like the universe decided to crank up the difficulty setting on his life, and you were determined to intervene. But first, you needed to observe.

Instance 1: Spaghetti Saga

It began in the kitchen, where Jamil was, unsurprisingly, cooking for the entire dorm. Kalim, bless his overly-enthusiastic heart, had announced a Scarabia Spaghetti Spectacular—an idea that seemed innocent enough on the surface. Until you realized that Kalim had no intention of helping. Well, he tried. Keyword: tried.

“Jamil! Jamil!” Kalim ran into the kitchen, arms full of ingredients that had no business being in spaghetti. “Look! I found some strawberries! And these marshmallows! They’d go perfectly in the sauce, right?”

Jamil froze mid-stir, his hand gripping the spoon so tightly you were concerned it might snap in two. Slowly, he turned to face Kalim, a polite but strained smile plastered across his face. “Strawberries? In spaghetti sauce?”

Kalim nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! It’s sweet, right? Sweet is good!”

Jamil’s eye twitched, just a little. “Kalim… no.”

“But—”

“No strawberries. No marshmallows. Please.”

Kalim deflated slightly but wasn’t deterred. “Okay! No problem! I’ll just add them to the salad instead.”

Before Jamil could react, Kalim darted off, presumably to wreak havoc on the next innocent dish. You caught the moment Jamil whispered to himself, “I’m in hell.”

And that was only the beginning.

Instance 2: Basketball Breakdown

The next incident occurred during basketball practice. Now, Jamil was usually the best player on the court, no question. Quick reflexes, sharp strategy—he could wipe the floor with the other teams without even breaking a sweat. But today?

Today, it was like he forgot what a basketball was.

It started innocently enough. A pass here, a dribble there, nothing out of the ordinary. But then one of the players tossed him the ball, and Jamil, in a moment that defied all logic and reason, missed it entirely. The ball smacked him square in the face with an audible thud.

The gym went silent. You could hear the collective gasp from the team, all eyes on Jamil, who stood there frozen, gripping his nose.

“Jamil!” Kalim shouted from across the court, jogging over. “Are you okay? Here, I brought some ice just in case!” He whipped out a handful of ice cubes from his pocket, offering them as if this was a totally normal thing to do.

Jamil stared at him, then at the ice cubes, and for a brief moment, you swore you saw his soul leave his body. But instead of snapping, he simply nodded, took the ice cubes, and walked off the court in silence, leaving everyone else standing there in stunned confusion.

“Did he just—?” one of the players started to ask, but you shook your head. “Don’t.”

You made another mental note. This was getting serious.

Instance 3: Paperwork Pandemonium

After practice, you found Jamil in his dorm room, surrounded by a sea of paperwork. And, of course, Kalim was there too, oblivious to the storm brewing in Jamil’s head.

“Jamil, can you help me organize these?” Kalim asked, holding up a stack of papers. “I don’t really know what half of them are, but they seem important!”

Jamil glanced at the pile with a deadpan expression. “Kalim, that’s the inventory for the next three months. You were supposed to file this weeks ago.”

Kalim blinked, still smiling. “Oh… well, I knew it was important!”

Jamil’s fingers twitched as he grabbed the papers from Kalim, scanning them quickly. “These are all overdue. We’re going to get fined if we don’t submit them by tomorrow.”

Kalim’s eyes widened in horror. “Tomorrow?! Oh no! What are we gonna do?”

Jamil took a deep breath, visibly restraining himself. “We aren’t going to do anything. I am going to fix this. Again.”

Kalim, ever the optimist, beamed. “Thanks, Jamil! You’re the best!”

And with that, he was off to who knows where, leaving Jamil alone in the paperwork disaster zone. You watched as he stared at the pile in front of him, his eye twitching again. He muttered something under his breath—something you were pretty sure wasn’t very polite.

You added another mental note. He was hanging by a thread.

Instance 4: The Final Straw (Almost)

The fourth instance happened later that evening, when you found Jamil in the library, supposedly studying for finals. But when you approached his table, you found him sitting there, staring blankly at a textbook. His pen was poised over a page, but he hadn’t written a single word.

“Hey,” you said softly, sitting down next to him. “How’s studying going?”

He didn’t answer at first, just continued staring at the book like it held all the answers to his existential crisis. Finally, he sighed. “I can’t do this.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t… I can’t handle all of this. Kalim. Finals. The dorm. Everything.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his voice. “It’s too much.”

You stared at him for a moment, then reached over and gently placed your hand on his. “You don’t have to handle it all by yourself, you know.”

He looked up at you, exhaustion clear in his eyes. “Who else is going to do it? Kalim? The other students? No one can do it like I can.”

You could hear the defeat in his voice, the resignation. He truly believed he was stuck in this never-ending cycle of responsibilities, with no way out.

That was it. You’d seen enough.

The Fifth Time’s the Charm: Break Time for Jamil

Without another word, you grabbed Jamil by the arm and pulled him out of the library. He barely had the energy to protest, following you like a zombie as you led him to a quiet, secluded spot in the courtyard. Once there, you gently pushed him down onto a bench.

“Sit,” you ordered, and to your surprise, he didn’t argue.

He sat there, looking completely drained, his usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion. You sat next to him, feeling your heart twist as you saw just how close he was to breaking down. This wasn’t the Jamil you were used to—this was someone who had been running on fumes for way too long.

You didn’t even think. You just acted. Before he could react, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

Jamil stiffened at first, clearly not used to such open displays of affection. But after a few seconds, he slowly relaxed, leaning into your embrace like a man who had been drowning and finally found a lifeline.

“I’m so tired,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You hugged him tighter, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I know. You’ve been doing too much for too long. You need a break.”

“I can’t,” he muttered, shaking his head. “There’s too much to do.”

“Screw the to-do list,” you replied. “You’re not a machine, Jamil. You need to rest, or you’re going to collapse.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just leaned into you, letting himself be vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before. You could feel the tension slowly draining from his body, the weight of his responsibilities finally lifting, if only for a moment.

And then, before you knew it, he was asleep.

You blinked in surprise, looking down at his head resting in your lap. His breathing had evened out, and his face, usually so guarded and composed, was now relaxed in peaceful slumber.

You couldn’t help but smile, gently running your fingers through his hair. He needed this more than he’d ever admit. And you? You were more than happy to be his pillow.

Jamil didn’t wake up for a while, and when he finally did, it was gradual, the soft sunlight filtering through the trees casting a warm glow over the courtyard. His lashes fluttered against your lap, his brows furrowing slightly in confusion as he blinked awake. The moment he realized where he was, nestled against you, his cheeks flushed and honestly, he looked adorable.

“I—” Jamil began, his voice thick with grogginess as he pushed himself up, wincing at the stiffness in his muscles. “Did I fall asleep?”

You offered a soft smile, brushing a few strands of his hair away from his face. “Yep. Right in my lap, too. You must’ve been really tired.”

His eyes widened, and the blush on his cheeks deepened. Jamil rarely let his guard down, but right now, he looked almost vulnerable, caught between embarrassment and gratitude. “I’m… sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Jamil,” you interrupted gently, placing a hand on his arm to keep him from sitting up fully. “Don’t apologize. You’ve been running yourself ragged, and you finally let yourself rest. I’m glad you did.”

He stared at you, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. His shoulders sagged, and for once, he didn’t try to fight it. He stayed close to you, his body still angled toward yours, like he couldn’t quite bring himself to pull away completely.

You could see it, the weight of the exhaustion he’d been carrying for so long. The lines of stress etched into his face, the constant need to be on alert. Jamil had always been the responsible one, the one who took on everyone else’s burdens. But now, in this moment, you wanted to be the one to take care of him.

“Hey,” you said softly, threading your fingers through his hair again, watching as his eyes fluttered shut for a moment. “How about we get out of here? Take a break. A real break.”

Jamil’s eyes opened, and he frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, let’s go somewhere. Just the two of us. Somewhere far away from all of this. No Scarabia, no endless responsibilities. Just… us.” You leaned in a little closer, lowering your voice as if you were sharing a secret. “You deserve it, Jamil. You’ve done more than enough. It’s time to take care of yourself.”

He hesitated, his frown deepening, as if the very idea of abandoning his duties was too much to comprehend. “I can’t just leave… there’s too much to do. Kalim—”

“Will be perfectly fine,” you interrupted, your tone leaving no room for argument. “And besides, I think Kalim would be all for this. In fact, I bet he’d love the idea.”

Jamil looked unconvinced, but before he could argue further, you gave him a gentle nudge. “Think about it. You could actually relax for once. No one bothering you, no one asking for a hundred different things at once. Just peace and quiet. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

He glanced down at his hands, clearly mulling over your words. You could tell he was struggling with the thought of letting go, even just for a little while. Jamil had been in control for so long, it was hard for him to imagine a world where he didn’t have to be.

But you weren’t about to let him slip back into that cycle.

Reaching out, you gently cupped his cheek, tilting his head up so he was looking at you again. “You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here, Jamil. Let me take care of you for a change.”

His breath caught at your words, and for a long moment, he just stared at you, something soft and unspoken passing between you. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned into your touch, his eyes slipping closed as he exhaled a long, weary breath.

“I don’t know if I know how to relax,” he admitted quietly.

You chuckled softly, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “Good thing you’ve got me then. I’ll teach you.”

There was a beat of silence, and then, with a small sigh, Jamil opened his eyes again, his gaze meeting yours. “You really think we could just… leave? Just like that?”

“Absolutely,” you said, the determination clear in your voice. “We’ll go somewhere beautiful, somewhere quiet. No one to bother us. Just you, me, and a whole lot of nothing.”

Jamil let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head slightly. “And what about Kalim? He’s bound to make a mess of things if I’m gone too long.”

“Don’t worry about him,” you said with a grin. “We’ll get him on board. Heck, Kalim will probably help us pack.”

And as if summoned by your words, Kalim himself appeared around the corner, grinning ear to ear like he’d just heard the best news of his life. “Did someone say vacation? I am so in!”

Jamil stared at him, his expression caught between disbelief and mild exasperation. “Kalim—”

Kalim bounded over to you both, practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh, Jamil, this is perfect! You’ve been working so hard lately, you totally deserve a break! You should l go somewhere fun! Ooh, maybe a beach? Or the mountains! Or, ooh, how about a floating island? I heard there’s one with the best sunrises!”

“Kalim—” Jamil tried again, but Kalim was on a roll.

“I’ll even help you pack! I can get everything ready! Don’t worry about Scarabia, I’ve got it all covered!” Kalim’s grin widened as he clapped Jamil on the shoulder. “You just focus on relaxing!”

Jamil blinked, looking thoroughly overwhelmed by Kalim’s sudden enthusiasm. “I… don’t know what to say.”

“How about ‘yes’?” you teased, nudging him again. “Come on, Jamil. You deserve this. Let yourself have something nice for once.”

Jamil glanced between you and Kalim, clearly torn. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the part of him that still wanted to cling to his responsibilities, to keep everything in order. But then, slowly, his expression softened. He let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“…Fine,” he muttered, his lips curving into a small, tired smile. “But only if you promise we’re not going anywhere too ridiculous.”

Kalim’s eyes lit up, and he practically bounced on the balls of his feet. “Yes! Don’t worry, I’ll find the perfect spot! You’ll love it!”

But before Kalim could dash off in a whirlwind of excitement, there was a sound behind you that made you groan inwardly—Crowley.

The headmaster sauntered into view, his usual over-the-top grandeur evident in every step. “Vacation, you say? Oh, I’m afraid that won’t be possible! You see, I was just about to ask you two for some assistance with a few important matters—”

Before he could finish, Jamil stood up sharply, his expression darkening. For once, it wasn’t the usual calm, collected Jamil standing in front of you. This Jamil was one step away from grabbing Crowley by the collar and shaking him like a rag doll.

“Headmaster,” Jamil began, his voice low and dangerous, “I have been running this dorm, managing everything from meals to paperwork, while studying and handling Kalim’s disasters for months. I have not had a break. I am this close to losing my mind.”

Crowley blinked, clearly taken aback by Jamil’s sudden intensity.

“If you try to take this vacation from me,” Jamil continued, his tone flat but terrifying, “I swear I will not be responsible for what happens next.”

Crowley opened his mouth to protest, but one look at Jamil’s expression—wild-eyed, teetering on the edge—was enough to make him think twice. “Ah, well, I suppose the matters can wait! Yes, yes, of course! You both deserve some time off. Enjoy your… rest.”

Jamil didn’t wait for any further confirmation. He grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet, and shot Crowley a glare that could have melted steel. “We’re leaving. Now.”

You tried to suppress your laughter as Jamil practically dragged you away, Kalim bouncing along happily beside you.

Once you were a safe distance from the courtyard, Jamil finally slowed down, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He glanced down at you, his hand still holding yours.

“You really think this is going to work?” he asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

You grinned, squeezing his hand gently. “Absolutely. I’ll make sure of it.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you saw Jamil smile—a real, genuine smile, soft and full of relief. He leaned in closer, his voice low as he whispered, “Thank you. For… everything.”

Your heart fluttered as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering just a little longer than necessary. “You deserve it,” you whispered back, resting your head on his shoulder. “And I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

Jamil chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around your waist as you both walked off, Kalim already rambling about potential vacation spots. But for now, you didn’t care where you were going. All that mattered was that it would be the two of you together.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #jamil x reader #jamil x you #jamil viper x you #jamil viper x reader #jamil #jamil viper

403 notes · View notes

lemonhemlock · 6 months ago

Text

the reason why i don't think blood & cheese works without maelor is because it undermines the gravity of helaena's choice

in the books, as we all know, she has to choose which son to sacrifice. blood & cheese are going to kill one either way, so, whatever happens, if you want to get cynical about it, aegon will still be left with a male heir of his body. no, the horribleness of the choice lies not really in dynastic matters, but in basic humanity: which of your children are you willing to condemn to death? and helaena truly does try to make the best out of a bad situation, she picks not because she loves jaehaerys more, but because maelor is so tiny that she hopes he won't understand what's going to happen to him.

and she absolutely has to choose, because b&c threaten to rape her daughter if she doesn't. it's psychological torture. b&c just want to fuck her up in the head as much as possible and helaena tries her goddamnest to minimize the harm done to her family. to further compound on the tragedy, b&c kill the opposite child, so now she has to live out the rest of her days knowing that the son left alive is the son SHE herself marked for the axe. which is what understandably drives her to lose her mind

now, in the show, the "problem" blood & cheese have doesn't exist at all: that they can't supposedly tell the twins apart. but (as awful as it sounds, since it involves sexual assault) they could very easily check which child has male genitalia and be done with it. it's a "problem" that takes literal seconds to solve. they don't need helaena at all! it becomes irrelevant which child she points towards - b&c can always just check! she can't save jaehaerys in this situation no matter what she does, because b&c were never interested in jaehaera in the first place. in the books, she has the ability to save one child and this exact horrible "agency" bestowed on her torments her for the rest of her days. in the show, even had she pointed towards jaehaera, it would have been a narrative plot hole for the writers to have killed her without checking

likewise, in the books, she begs them to kill her instead, but, in the show, she offers them a necklace? you can't deny that the dramatic stakes are lowered substantially by making that change. which one of these options would have been more filled with pathos? personally, it just feels like this was phia's moment to shine and, while she did a good job with what she had, every narrative choice was somehow made to subdue this horrible event and left her only crumbs to work with. cinematically-speaking, this scene (as it was executed) does not even come close to the iconic moments that cemented GoT into the collective consciousness, which is very strange, as the subject matter is anything but mediocre

and that's not even getting into the rest of the plot holes that others have already pointed out, like:

- why are there no guards at helaena's door or anywhere else for that matter? not just on that hallway, but on many other hallways, she has to run quite a lot to get to alicent's chambers

- why is her room unlocked at the very least

- why is ALICENT's room unlocked, for that matter? she is having secret guilty sex with criston and she forgets to lock her door in a castle full of spies? anyone could have walked in

- not even getting into this whole thing just being one huge misunderstanding + minimizing daemon's and mysaria's roles :))

- NOT EVEN mentioning removing the trauma of alicent witnessing all of this, gagged and bound on her own bed, not being able to help or intervene in any way

i can understand the likelihood of these elements happening sometimes (maybe someone does forget to lock their door from time to time, maybe a guard does shirk their duties from time to time), but you can't write all of them at once without it turning all looney tunes. if you introduce too many aspects that defy logic in your story, it ceases to be believable and just becomes bad writing

___________________________________________

also, "they killed <the boy>"? not "my son" or "jaehaerys"? it sounds so removed, don't you think? helaena out there on her mother's floor dropping exposition for the audience 🥲

#house of the dragon #helaena targaryen #blood & cheese #maelor targaryen #jaehaerys targaryen #jaehaera targaryen #alicent hightower #hotd s2 #hotd spoilers #this is SO annoying as the episode was pretty solid throughout until this

537 notes · View notes

sanemistar · 2 months ago

Text

too close — sanemi shinazugawa

contents ★ fem!reader, fluff, enemies to lovers, wc: 1.k ﾉ requested for my milestone event. note: this turned out to be much longer than i intended to omg event m.list ★ kny m.list

you had no idea how you ended up in this position with sanemi of all people, he was the very last person you had in mind when imagining scenarios like that. yet there you were, leaning so close to him, a little too close. the very little distance between two of you was so alarming to the point where you could feel his every hot breath fanning against the skin of your face, sending shivers down your spine. your eyes directly staring into his own deep lilac ones in a painfully prolonged gaze, as if you were seeing through each other’s souls. the surrounding air was filled with tension that was so intense and so strong. it was so silent that you could hear the sound of your own heartbeat as you heart raced like crazy like it was about to burst out of your chest and explode.

“you’re way too close…” sanemi finally spoke up in an irritated tone, breaking the thick layer of awkward silence around you. his eyebrows furrowed in perplexity as a confused expression made its way onto his face. by then, you would’ve immediately leaned back, walked away from him, and acted like nothing had ever happened. but for some odd reason, your feet were still heavily glued to the ground, not daring to move an inch as your face became even closer to his. like if there was some sort of gravity drawing you in, pulling you closer towards him.

“and if i get closer, will you push me away?” you replied back in a somewhat teasing tone, which was probably just to get a reaction from him before he’d get you off of him and leave. you enjoyed seeing his mad reactions, he was your rival after all. but instead of getting the usual mad reaction you had expected, sanemi fell silent. as if he was contemplating on what to say next, which was quite unlike him. the sanemi you knew would’ve pushed you to the side and stormed off without a second thought, so the way he reacted made you feel a little nervous, a little unsettled. like why was he still close, why was he still there? questions and rampant thoughts were running wild in your head.

“you want me to? or do ya want us to kiss or something?” he asked back as the saga of questions continued. until a strange, unfamiliar desire suddenly hit you upon hearing his words. and before you had realized that you had no control over your body, it moved on its own. closing the whatever remaining distance left between you and him as your hand quickly grabbed his shirt and smacked your lips on top of his, pulling him into a quick kiss that only lasted for just mere seconds. it was clumsy, hasty and full of uncertainty, completely different from what you had in mind. maybe because you weren't kissing someone you had a crush on, but a person you thought of as an enemy.

you didn’t know what possessed you back then when you did that, you weren't the type to act on impulses. every single move you took, no matter how small, was carefully calculated, you never acted recklessly. and for the first time in your life, you defied your logic and broke your own rules as you allowed yourself to act upon your emotions in the heat of the moment. you were overwhelmed with a mix of new emotions you never thought you would feel, and you couldn’t believe yourself. the man in front of you whom you just kissed was your foe, your arch-enemy, your nemesis. you were supposed to hate, and even regret initiating it. but surprisingly, the only thing you regretted was breaking the kiss too quickly and abruptly.

who would've thought that kissing one's enemy would be so good, was what you thought.

you were certain that your face was flushed in embarrassment and was as red as a tomato. he'd probably laugh at you and tease you about it for as long as you lived, you basically gave him an opportunity on a golden plate.

or at least, that was what you thought was the case.

what you never saw coming though was that, instead of him acting in his usual aggressive attitude, his eyes were wide open, clearly taken aback by the sudden action. he was showing a softer expression, one that you'd never seen before. a slight tint of red decorated his scarred face. it got you thinking that maybe it wasn't a bad idea after all.

"i dunno what have you done to me, but i wanna kiss you again." sanemi admitted as he leaned close to you once again, and you'd nodded in agreement before you locked your lips with his again for a second time. this time, it was a slow, passionate kiss. completely different from the first one. and you made sure to take your sweet time savoring his taste. unexpectedly, he tasted like ohagi, so sugary and sweet. contrasting his standoffish, scary demeanor.

you hadn't realized that you two had been kissing for quite some time until you felt yourself unable to breathe properly as your chest rapidly moved up and down, and that your lungs were practically begging for air. the two of you pulled away, panting as you desperately needed some air. your head was still spinning and dizzy as an aftermath of that intimate kiss, it was much better than the first one that you were left wanting more.

"i think i'll like you, so how about a third kiss?" you softly whispered against his ear as he slightly flinched. "you know the saying, third time's the charm." coaxing him to go in one more time.

before that day the thought of you kissing sanemi would've never crossed your mind, let alone liking him. but if you could go back in time, you'd still choose him, your dear nemesis, again and again. in a heartbeat.

taglist: @sylusdoll @ayrastv @spkyssn @stunies

271 notes · View notes

ghostandsoap · 1 year ago

Text

Feeling You

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem! Reader Tags: Light smut. Cockwarming. Ghost being a softie. Word Count: 1.0k "Just happy you're here."

⋆˙⟡ ♡⋆˙⟡

In the quiet sanctuary of your shared solitude, you and Ghost sat chest to chest, your hearts beating in a rhythm that echoed the symphony of your love.

The world outside ceased to exist as you lost yourselves in each other's presence, your souls whispering secrets that only you could understand.

The warmth of his body seeped into yours, blurring the lines between where one ended and the other began. Your breaths intermingled, a testament to the intimacy that you shared. Each inhale was a silent promise, each exhale was a sigh of contentment.

The only sounds were your breathing, heartbeats, and the occasional whimper from you when Ghost shifted his hips underneath you.

Ghost's cock was nestled far inside of you, his tip pushed against a sensitive spot that you didn't even know existed until just now. He stretched your walls so perfectly and sat so comfortably inside of you that Ghost felt high off of it.

You had soaked his thighs and lower stomach, your arousal leaking on and around him. You weren't much better, because your inner thighs were dripping.

The two of you were spending the week together, not a single plan or obligation to be had. Ghost had every intention of staying in and keeping you as close as possible. It wasn't often that he had this opportunity, and he would be a fool to let it pass him by. The week consisted of movies, snacks, cuddles, and just about anything else that didn't require either of you to leave.

The two of you had been lounging on your living room sofa, just watching some cheesy documentary that you both agreed to watch. It was more for filler noise than anything, because the two of you had managed to chat with one another through the entirety of it.

When the film was over, you turned off the TV and your side table lamp to prepare to close your flat up for the night -- however, Ghost wanted just a few more minutes.

This was about an hour ago when Ghost had set you up on his lap. Mainly just because he liked having the chance to look up at you and he loved watching you sit on his thick, muscular thighs.

Frankly though, he hadn't anticipated this.

Somewhere along the way, your cotton sleep shorts and T-shirt were discarded, along with his sweats. Your clothes were tossed aside to be retrieved in the morning.

The two of you had shared some sweet kisses, and all the shifting around prompted Ghost to slide his cock into you slowly when you were wet and ready.

However, Ghost held you still when you tried to bounce on him, which caused you to raise a brow. Ghost was sitting up straight against the back of the couch, holding onto you in his lap like you were his lifeline. It took you a few moments to settle into this arrangement that he was making.

Eventually, the two of you morphed around one another like you were the most perfect fit. Like two pieces of the most beautiful picture.

It was inevitable for you to start squirming though. After all, it was hard to resist him when he was literally right under you.

Ghost groaned and huffed when you rolled your hips forward, one of his hands coming to your hip to restrain you.

"Sit still," He said, kissing your forehead. "I just want to feel you for a bit."

"Sorry," You sighed, head still resting on his shoulder. "Just getting comfortable."

"It's alright, doll..." He chuckled. "Just happy you're here."

Ghost's fingers traced paths of affection on your skin, each touch igniting sparks that danced beneath the surface. The silence returned, filled with the unspoken words of love that hung heavy in the air.

In this moment, you were not just two bodies sitting chest to chest; you were two souls intertwined in an eternal dance of love. Your connection was palpable, a force that defied logic and reason.

As the two of you sat there, Ghost realized that he was living a life he never thought he would ever have. He was experiencing a love that was uniquely his. A kind of love that he once thought he was far too damaged and broken for.

"You're so beautiful," He almost whispered. "My pretty girl..."

You pulled your head back to look at him, your eyes sleepy and cheeks glowing. He loved you so much he could barely even understand it.

"I love you." You remarked, rotating your hips in a way that was more involuntary than anything else.

Ghost couldn't help but let out a low laugh when your grinding down against him was returned with a slow, yet firm snap of his pelvis into you. He knew that this charade wouldn't last long, because one of you was going to crack sooner or later.

"I love you." He returned, his lips meeting yours in a meaningful kiss.

He didn't stop you this time when you started to rock your hips against his cock, the feeling of moving inside of you causing a flutter of his eyes.

He couldn't deny you any longer. He had to let you have your way with him. Truth be told, it was starting to drive him a bit mad anyways.

Your movements along with Ghost's were slow and careful...sensual. He wanted to feel you for as long as he possibly could. He would do this forever and ever if he could.

His cock felt insane inside of you as you fucked him at such a glacial pace. It was insanity because Ghost couldn't believe that he could ever deserve something as good as this...someone as good as you.

The slow rise and fall of your body onto his made both of your hearts begin to beat faster. The two of you craving the other like you were the only source of life.

And in the sound of your shared heartbeat, you found a melody that only your hearts could compose.

2K notes · View notes

1-49 · 2 months ago

Text

bare sugars

╰► that’s my baby, that’s my sugar, i don’t need no honey on the side . . . that’s unconditiona-nal.

pairing: f!reader × jaehyun ⁝ tags: motel. lotta tension. jae likes to show skin lol. history i allude to but never explain sry. short scenario inspired by this teaser photo. diabetes keep away 5k

It ’s a place in between places, on the outskirts of some sunbaked desert town. What began as a hopeful promise, somewhere in the chaos of the last seven days , has faded into obscurity.

When this road trip kicked off, the entire crew was pumped on the : ‘No one’s getting ditched; everyone ’s got to be part of ─── no matter how intense the next adventure gets.’ Yet, here you are , left behind with the one person you were hoping to dodge.

A velvety green sofa sets the scene & the honey glow of golden hour falls on wood - panelled walls ─── Lying on his back , Jaehyun rocks yet another one of his 250+ crumpled print tees, retro lettering in: ‘The Grateful Dead.’ Its fabric hiked up , intentionally or not , giving his casual style a little extra edge.

─── This specific old shade of blue denim jeans, those grey Calvins, the belt that struggles to keep the outfit together ... His belly that just kind of vacuums in whenever it wants ... A plush land really ... The faux freckles on his cheeks which mimic sunflower seeds, and his hair that shines like a field of gold ...

A babe , though the design guilt he wears in his dark eyes remains as you capture yet another moment with your camera.

The two shy cuties in his cheeks and his keys lying abandoned on the pink carpet. His languid binks & perpetually movey lips. His Converse’s loose laces.. The unhurried. The lazy. The slow...

It’s all captured on film & as you pull the camera away from your face, he still keeps an eye on you, not necessarily looking for a reaction but...

Well, you better... drop that feedback, or things might...

take a turn for the worse...

And—

And they do... with him tucking his hand under his head & his shirt riding up thoughtlessly even more...

And it’s bad. It’s—It’s like he’s in charge of how you feel and is directing the scene. Like as if he’s your television & there’s no turning him off.

This almost ever so present paradoxical quality to him—a blend of approachability and impenetrability that’s hard to elaborate. Or his lazy attractiveness which simply defies logic: for he’s simultaneously doing nothing and everything, drawing you in completely without lifting a finger.

Or... how these are just a few of the countless reasons why you’ve never asked him to bring you the horizon, or, hell, dared to dream about having him.

Of how the four walls and the door close on you and how looking at him strikes you with a funny fear, making you want to melt deep into the contents of the floor.

Oh, to fuck with that...

Gently, you adjust the fine black lace along the hem of your brown silk dress; draw in the fluffy cardigan tighter around you; and to escape the perfect features of his perfect face, you walk up to the window.

Yet, no matter how hard you search for a way out, the four walls of this claustrophobic room offer little in the way of escape. You’re fucking stuck... Counting your fingers anew whenever gets nothing done, and flipping through the channels on the tiny TV does nothing to clear the monotony. The minutes drag on endlessly, and no matter how many board games you play or photos you take, the clock seems to mock you. Each moment drags as if the world has hit the pause button, leaving you with him in this quiet space.

“Uuggh, coome oooon!” You stomp your feet, looking out the window. “The losers promised they’d be back by six!”

Jaehyun blows a bubble that bursts with a loud snap, grinning at you. “Ummm—You realize promises aren’t really being kept here anymore, right?”

Yeah, right... Fuck promises! You told yourself you wouldn’t get attached to him but look at you now...

Rolling your eyes, you glance out the window again, right as he asks,

“Why? Are you hungry?”

And sure, they were supposed to be the ones bringing the food, but it seems their adventure has taken a detour into yet another town at the end of the world; said, ‘This is what happens when you skip out—So, you two sort it out.’

“Some sweets would be nice. But no, um,” you tensely pull at your cardigan’s sleeves, clenching the ends in your fists. “Are they okay? I’m a little nervous.”

Though all he does is just casually burst another ridiculous bubble...“I’m sure they’re fine.”

Right… So next you’re left to watch him scrape bits of pink gum from his lips, and before you know it, a wave of irritation pulls you back to his side.

You’re barely balanced on the edge of the sofa, aiding in his clumsy efforts. Your thumb brushes against his bottom lip, and the air around him gets to your head just instantly, thick with the sugary scent of the sticky residue that you find yourself obliged to help remove... It’s so sugary that it borders on being revolting! Or perhaps it’s your sweet tooth that’s igniting this feeling?

Silly, cause you feed into this quirky theory that butterflies taste like bubblegum, and now that notion takes on a funny twist, well... considering the butterflies dancing in your stomach.

As you pull your fingers away from his lips, a rush of blood roars in his ears and he quickly adds, “Might have something in my bag, let me see.”

And totally! The bag that somehow collected a ton of pendants during this road trip does sit by the sofa, and with Jaehyun lounging back, stretching his arms overhead to grab it, his shirt gets pulled up even higher, & just like that, it becomes the cause for another thing you wish you never said.

Definitely not the sight you were hoping for... The tee hiked up, way above his ribs, exposing a good portion of his slim waist as he giggles, showing off that boyish grin while rummaging through the bag behind... still looking at you.

The eye contact ****

The fcking gum that just so erratically becomes his plaything, getting relentlessly crushed beneath the pressure of his teeth, repeatedly transforming into a sticky mass that fills his mouth, stressing the rugged contours of his strong jawline...

His fucking belly...

The happy trail...

Godsent personal hell!

Your heart is thumping away in your chest and your ribs aren’t exactly doing much to protect it. The stressed thing seems ready to pop like one of his balloons and leave you in an ever-sticker mess...

“Mmmmm...” he hums, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth and pulling a handful of candies from the bag behind him. “Let’s see what we have.”

Placing each treat onto his stomach as if the world were about to erupt in a frenzy of sugar-fueled chaos, Jaehyun carefully begins to arrange each piece, making sure they’re spaced out just right and sorted into rational portions in case such an outbreak actually happens. In no time, a vibrant array of treats sprawls across him and his funky-ridden shirt, everything from lollipops, chewy gums, gummy bears, and sour candies, to little chocolates.

Imagine a carnival! The flashy colors are super distracting, and those chocolate bars are practically begging you to grab them. Still, you can’t help but tease him a bit to annoy him, specially since you’ve been going back & forth for the past three days.

“Really,” you pout cynically, “You took this many?? You’re such a…”

With a burst of laughter that is hearty & sweet, Jaehyun sends the poor candies resting on the very sides of his waist to tumble down onto the sofa as if that earthquake had REALLY made its presence felt.

“Mmmmm- Why would I want to spend money on fancy treats? Besides...” He spaces out for a bit... then remarks with a smirk, “My theory is basically sweets are sweets.”

And he tightens his lips to seem all serious, but honestly, it just makes everything worse. The dude doesn’t even lift a finger to be funny; it’s like humour just radically appears around him, and the stuff he comes up with...

Poof! A total goof or a creative thinker? It really just comes down to your mood at the time.

You grimace once more, shaking your head at him, and subtly shift your weight to your legs rather than sitting on the sofa, your body ready to leap away at the slightest hint of contact.

With an adorable, surprised expression his eyes grow round as he stares at you, “What!?” His brows shoot up too in effort to justify himself.

“That piñata was there for everyone to go wild and, umm- grab whatever they could!” Lifting his hands defensively, he pouts, “Not my fault!”

Aaaand that fucking shirt of his?

Isss at it againnnn!@#£%^*

Your mind is reeling as the candy mountain spills over in a fun avalanche.

No, because why go through all that trouble to arrange them perfectly just to wreck it himself!?

Yeah,

anyway, you find nothing to match that, indeed it was up to anyone to snatch whatever they wanted, it just looks like he had deeper pockets than the rest of you idiots to stash all that stuff, that’s all there is to it. So you give in to the urge to ‘screw it,’ let out another eye roll, and grab a tiny bag of gummy bears.

As if he’s achieved something, Jaehyun’s hands find their way back beneath his head, and the flirtatious smile continues in his eyes. He just basks in the moment until your frustration—the sting of yet another cheeky defeat—causes you to fumble to open the bag and so all the gummy bears go flying everywhere.

Add chaos?

Check!

Is he into it?

Also, check.

The pack is but what that piñata was a few days ago, bleeding in beautiful colors and gushing all things sweet.

“Ugghhh!!” Tossing your head back, you groan dramatically.

And understandably so!!! While Jaehyun?

He beams as he sticks his tongue in his cheek, and snatches the empty bag from your hands. He casually spits his spent pink gum inside it, takes a pair of gummies from his abs, and gently runs them against his lips before sliding them in...

And t

And it’s so fucking frustrating that this guy has no clue about the importance of breaking eye contact! You’re always left searching for a word that’s stronger than ‘insufferable,’ but really, the dude just constantly goes all out with everything. Legit!

It drives you crazy. He—

Munching on them playfully, Jaehyun thinks for a moment, swallows, & then quirks an eyebrow, smirking,

“Wanna hear what the gummies just whispered into my mouth?”

What the gummies have what??

You shake your head at his nonsense but arch a brow back. Because if you had to be honest, those jelly babies aren’t the only thing looking to spill some secrets in his mouth... So, yeah, you’re JUST listening! As a matter of fact, you’re all tuned in to catch what absurdity he’s about to dish out next.

Pushing his lips together, a bratty shape that just begs to be kissed, he sits with his answer. There’s something very precious and terribly frustrating about how he keeps his responses close like they’re the best puns ever. Then he eventually smiles, “Thank you for releasing us.”

........ Woaah, they’ve at least been honest with him! Which is... cool...

Cool! Great! Awesome! You next!

“Mmm-hmm,” for dummies, some skeptical eyes and a cynical head nod are all you have...

When the magnitude of his languid x menacing should be studied!!!

Really, a quirky cotton candy man! A sugar. A delicate toxic substance.

Like, fuck! He—He’s just- unbeatable.

That’s an overwhelming amount of power for him to have... Like, that’s too much hot... Too much sweet… It’s no good…

Like-

Like the doses got all jacked up when he was made... Accidentally spilled too much of each, and now he’s just a walking health risk.

Catch it!

The disease spreads just like it always has—quickly and definitely. This earthtone babe just knows exactly how to get under your skin.

So hard to resist... So hard to not take a bite...

It’s just how it goes, you know?

Things...

Eyes...

Fingers...

& before you realise it, your fingertips glide past his jeans, over to his skin, igniting a rush of sensations with each line you draw across his abs.

Inevitably, the air gets charged with an energy... that’s not innocent. You feel the sparks. Not the good kind of sparks, but the sinful ones... The—

It’s like a dream at first, experiencing the thrill of someone yearning for your touch so badly.

Jae is every bit as tough as he looks, but the moment your fingers brush against him, that narrative shifts entirely. It feels like he’s been craving your touch, and those days without it have been an unbearable! fucking! stretch!

Gentle, sensual skin, a supremely royal shade of luxury milk. Everything that’s connected with a beautiful sweet, sweet & touching is associated with him.

He’s just spot on! And your stomach is growling. And you’re looking for a bite to eat...

In fact, you’re so down bad, your sweet tooth’s at an all-time high; honestly, you’d probably go as far as to start licking him right now.

In a straight line? Curved? In any manner that sparks your creativity? Anything real—

...The hot transference from his skin onto your hand? The way he teases his lip!?? The way he shyly and discreetly raises his hips against your touch as if silently pleading for

Thisss baddieee!!

Reading into all these crazy action bits has you all jittery that you completely jump when his hand lands on your bare thigh, right at the lace border.

nononono-

With a gulp, you instantly! rise from the couch. How—Just why did you end up falling back so e

Fast, desperation kicks in- just- again like those moments ago... and you’re back to pacing this same motel room, seeking an escape from him. Except every aspect now feels as if it’s been cranked up to ten times the difficulty.

The reddish-brown timber panels on the walls give off tough prison steel, and the pink carpet feels all squishy and weird under your bare feet right when you need a stable solid... All while Jaehyun is- just- there... planted in place, now seated, legs all spread, on the green sofa. There’s really nothing you can do but hope he stays right where he is.

But! once something’s set in motion, it stays in motion. Like a wildfire racing thru dry lands, fierce and unstoppable. And you just happened to let a match slip past your fingers a heartbeat ago, screwing everything up...

Naturally, he gets up. Also, that belt of his really accomplishes nothing... it’s just there to be there, so he’s just got to pull up his baggy jeans himself before he can even take a step forward.

& what his rising does is kick off a frantic chase as you two whirl around the room in a relentless spiral, & he’s hot on your tail... The very thought of him catching up on you sends dopamine through your veins, making your pulse quicken.

Plus that stunning smile? Plus his unconditional happiness? Well, both make him even more irresistible but both also complicate things for you. The excitement mounts as he approaches in the chase, each heartbeat making the thrill even stronger; that once he abruptly stops, the sprinting exertion takes its toll.

His breath comes in heavier gasps, his cheeks are flushed with a pinch of peach, and his bangs are a tousled mess, dancing around him like dandelion fluff does in the wind. Just a pure, natural and effortless elegance. He’s so incredibly attractive it almost hurts to look at him.

The tension though peaks as his words build to a sharp climax of a fact.

“You-um- You’ve been avoiding me this whole trip.”

...That sinking feeling in your heart like a rock just hit it? Yeah...

Yeah, you wish that voice of his didn’t resonate through your very being, scraping against every nerve ending, but that’s what it always does. It freezes you in place, making you overwhelmed and powerless.

It’s kind of wild how bringing up a heavy topic during a playful moment can make it feel that much more sincere. With so many choices, he went right for the thing that drives him crazy, and that should show you what’s on his mind... at least-

But, you-you

Instinctively, you pull the same fuzzy cardigan around you, clinging to it as though it were a barrier against him, and softly slide your hand from your sleeve, unveiling a lollipop—the only item you managed to pocket earlier.

And this should sweep everything away, right?

“Mhmmmm,” Jaehyun hums, back on trend —

acting like he didn’t just mention something that could spark a whole conversation...

— though this time he picks up the bat resting by the bedstand which at the beginning of the week tore through that heart piñata...

And currently, with the sun set, the moon in the sky, and the desert sky glowing a delicate lilac blue, his eyes narrow and his sly grin comes in the same old style as he twists the knob of the yellow lamp, teasing, “So... a thief, huh?”

...It’s as if he’s putting you in the spotlight, pointing out your crime, and calling you out for being a naughty girl.

& sure, he’s got you in that tight spot he wants you in, okay? But you still tilt your head and nibble on your lip, still going at it, “Maaybee.”

& as you start to walk backwards, everything is still beside your breath and the gentle thud of the bat as he taps it against different surfaces. Only muted noise of what seems to be Spanish drifts in from the neighboring room, but neither of you pays it much mind.

His hands fist around the bat tightly, consumed with angry adrenaline, & veins bulge along his smooth skin, sending filthy pulses up his arms.

It’s a sight that attracts goosebumps all along & across your skin, igniting a warmth that curls from your legs to your belly. The same very electrifying rush of adrenaline wraps around you as if he’s pulling you into the grip of that wooden bat...

Hiss, twist, loosen, and turn, just like how his hands manipulate that wood...

And you know... it doesn’t take much to find yourself backed up against that mahogany wall.

At once, ‘trapped’ takes on an even greater weight than what it meant before. You feel twisted and turned in advance, completely taken apart by the sheer passion in his deep brown eyes.

Jaehyun lifts a brow. He’s all about this vibe. That big toothy smile of his. The way he’s locked in on you. The ‘Just a couple of steps away, baby.’

Uh-huh, but what about that horrible, horrible crave you’ve told yourself you CAN’T have!??

The itch sits on your tongue, fruity in flavour—perhaps strawberry or raspberry—you aren’t sure. A tang that lingers in your memory, the same as of candy gum that had been in the air around him earlier and one which grew bolder with each step he took toward you. This sickness makes you wish that your tongue is already wrapped in his, tightening for a deeper inspection.

Yikes! Please, let’s just avoid that!

To drive away the feeling, you look down to your toes in the cotton carpet, shift your weight, and then peel away the wrapper of the lemon lolly, seeking a bitter flavor to replace the trace of his scent.

Then eventually, accept the proximity between you two as it is - as you let your back land against the wall, hoping the tension will melt away.

Feeling the lolly along your lips, you grimace at the acid but take it...

And as you look down, even in your peripheral view, it’s clear that Jaehyun is still watching you, & you realize he’s focused on your mouth. & after giving the lollipop a couple of spins on your tongue, you proudly look up, thinking you’re good and that you’ve totally neutralized the crave for him...

Because the suddenly too sure of itself face?

Your neck, your collars, the hard candy prodding at your cheek?

The sleek brown silk and the intricate black lace trim which ascends higher on your thigh as you shift your weight to one leg, elegantly placing the other in front as you find your stance? And then the glossy black polish on your toenails as you draw them from a point in the carpet, just barely hovering above it, & in a straight line with him... As in ???

Yeah, absolutely not; that’s far from a quiet invite...

No! You’re totally not just ‘asking for it.’

On the spur, the dynamics shift... As you let the lemon hang in your mouth, Jaehyun abruptly brings his bat up & uses it to delicately move a piece of your hair aside, and then the very tip of the bat makes a gentle tap at the heart of your collars.

Your breath catches in your throat, a fragile spectacle he zeroes in on as your cords constrict, and then, with knitted brows you swallow in the sour juice of the sucker.

Really!?? What more does he want of your sorry soul when you’re just trying to get through each breath?

But no! You certainly didn’t ask for it… Just remember he’s not one to give up when told to quit. So, either pack your things or choose a better design, Sugar.

Though that’s the very thing... You can’t deny the magnetic pull of Jaehyun’s game...

Sure, you’re feeling the heat from your toes to the top of your head, but let’s keep things in check, yeah?

Feeling the groove, as you pull out the lollipop to give your lips a little lick, your eyes wander down to what could be seen as a ‘dangerous tool’, and you smirk.

Jaehyun sucks in on his lip, very slowly, very cheekily. The guy’s clearly amused with you.

“Are you seriously just going to keep looking at me like that?” you ask eventually, taking a moment before adding, “I’m not a fan of it.”

“Mmmmm,” he gives his hundredth low hum, tilting his back head just so, & flexing that tight jawline that always seems to be up for something... something explicit and offensive.

However you pout and slide the lollipop right back in your mouth.

“Tasty?”

...You had to know that was coming, right? And so, as the duel continues, you shrug, allowing a slight grimace to escape your lips, piquing his curiosity about the taste he’s missing out on.

& it runs like a charm.

As Jaehyun lets his eyelids droop in the slowest blink imaginable, &, in his infamous deep voice, says, “I waaanna taste.”

Nuh-uh, even if you tried to reject, it wouldn’t make a difference since he’s right in your face; his mouth hanging agape, eager for absolutely, really absolutely! anything you might have to offer... Cause, there’s always room for a shift in sentiments, wouldn’t you agree?

Though the ‘weapon’ somewhat still stays pointed at you...

Take notes!

For sure! But being the fantastic person you are you tap into your generous spirit & pull out the candy with a satisfying pop while Jaehyun stares at you, mischief even spilling out of his open mouth.

With only inches between you, you gently slide the bad sugar in, pushing it along his tongue and unconditionally savoring the moment and the view.

His slightly downturned, sultry eyes as you still hold onto the other end of the white plastic, & he keeps sucking on the lemon in his mouth.

Those damn sunken cheeks of his. The tiny scratch on his nose from a few days ago which has mostly healed, but you can still see it.

The dense, dark brows in disagreement with his bleached hair with a still lingering odor of ammonium hydroxide... Really, a look born from a reckless bet on a chaotic road trip—a decision that seemed utterly foolish but now is somehow working in his favor...

In a way, it’s even funny how the flashy hair is soooo out there… but it’s there, being just one aspect of him. Still, you have to admit its impact is real. A gutsy choice that jazzes him up a notch. This new arc he’s projecting, where it seems, he’s flirting a bit more with his impulsive side? Yeah...

Somewhere between handsome and creamy tabby cat... He’s just bursting with the most obnoxious playfulness, and he’s paired with a smile that raises up his dimples.

The way he’s making you curious and wild >>> He’s so sexy, it’s unmatched...

And you understand the gravity of wanting such a fine man! The—

(!) The despite knowing, yet failing... or at least in what you think you know and what you think is better.

You’re completely focused on his lips, and in an instant, reality just seems to melt away like it’s under a spell.

Tis a state... A mood! The ninth cloud where you can’t feel the air or the ground... All there is is his insane eyes scrutinizing your reaction to what he does to the lolly, and it’s honestly the worst kind of pressure.

Finished savouring, Jaehyun’s tongue casually circles his sensuous lips, collecting all possible leftover like he’s just finished you in style.

“Ummm…” Scrunching his nose at the flirty, piquant taste, he takes a step back. Mulls over the candy choice; pushes his cooked bangs; and hesitates before he says, “Nah, this isn’t the one... I-um... I bet there’s something better out there... It’s likeee” suppresses smile in advance of saying it, “It’s just on the tip of my tongue.” His brows flatten too, mans serious! “Help me think?”

OH, Sir!

A treat that can out-beat this bittersweet taste? A goodie that packs an even bigger surprise?

Your always rambling mind goes thoughtless, & that burning need to press on drops off like a light switch. The coming panic. Your gotcha moment. You go quiet. It hits you that this is the first time your playful teasing has backfired and that maybe you can’t be bailed out of what’s to come.

Worse, as it’s one of those silences that just hangs in the air, making things feel more tense. Your self-imposed rules about ‘what you think you know’ and ‘what’s better’ dissolved, leaving you fully present and stimulated.

& Jaehyun digs right in, spreading the cavity...

He lifts the bat again, its tip gently pressing into your belly, and it’s like you can almost feel his warmth seep through it, then past the fragile silken fabric to your skin.

You get so hot. This bizarre ripple from your legs to your tummy as you tightrope between pleasure and unease, joy and hesitation... It’s like you two are finally on the same wavelength, knowing what the other is about to say before the words even come out.

A delicate crease develops between his bushy brows which deepens as he tenderly whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“Jae- don’t.” you murmur, your lips curving into a sorrowful pout as you gently shake your head ‘no.’

Needless to say, something nuanced only you and him know...

The result of everything that’s happened...

The ‘this whole trip has messed up the trajectory of our friendship.’

The reason why he chose to hang back today...

The tactics which kicked in since everyone piled into that Jeep truck this morning & sped away.

The from ‘getting schooled’ in all the board games to the countless Polaroids he let you snap of him, to that little “I’m sorry” hand peck he gave you that had you making the death stare, and the “Don’t ever try to do that again!”

The rude ‘skin-feeding’ masked behind the pretense of a ‘generous’ food provider.

And how you slipped past every move, pushed back, and resisted until he has put you up against this wall... and now ‘the-no-escape’.

Still and all- your pushback’s like a sport. Be afraid of what follows...

For Jaehyun gnaws into the very walls of your sensitivity as if sensuality were his chosen medium. Each deliberate motion of the bat becomes a brushstroke in the masterpiece of your downfall...

He glides it along the contours of your waist, teasingly skimming over your curves, trails it down your legs and inners, and even lifts the hem of your dress just enough to make your skin hurt in anticipation.

Then, it finds its way to your stomach yet again, as if to indicate something deep & unexpressed, before tracing a direct path up your sternum, sweeping along your collarbone until he’s made your cardigan slip down your arm, taking the delicate strap of your dress with it...

So much of ‘Jae, don’t,’ huh? Oh, sweetheart…

Certainly, the last thing you hope he avoids is the very thing Jaehyun does...

Trailing the bat along your jawline, ultimately he rests it under your chin... Something something about a ‘clear display of dominance.’ His insane eyes about render you completely motionless as he insists on glancing between your eyes and your lips the way one searches a dictionary for definitions. Again and Again... And then gravity happens...

In an instant, the bat slips from his grasp and tumbles to the floor, making you flinch as his lips finally find their way to your bare shoulder, where seems like he’s achieved something.

Oh, the bite-

An insidious heat stroke as you moan the most promiscuous hiss there is.

“Jaee, we shou—”

“Baby-”

Vibrationssssssssss...

It comes out even more whiny as he gets all of that word muffled against your neck. It roughly cuts into your focus, seeps into your ears, and goes straight to the wrong place.

The very last thing you feel yourself do is slide left against the wall, scraping for any last escape routes, but he just moves in sync with you.

Up to the moment he—

The sound of yearning?

Jaehyun’s palms slamming into the hardwood, spreading out like wings on either side of you, creating a cage of flesh. Brushing off the idea of consent, his hot body presses against yours.

With his hands up, that whimsical teddy bear tee yet again peels from his jeans. It constricts around his arm sleeves, flexing the impressive curve of his biceps. His veins, too, scrumptiously pushed in motivation: ‘All mine! You can’t outrun this, baby. I’m keeping you right where I want you.’

Really, the rest it’s all in your perception—either a trap or a safe spot.

A little motel inside a world of sand... you’ve never felt smaller than you do now with him towering over you—not literally, size in drive and ambition.

You watch yourself fade&wilt in his unsettlingly lazy eyes like Valentine’s flower petals from their vase falling onto the white desk dirtied with graphite from pencil shavings and candy wrappers.

It’s so desertly calm, that your nails accidentally strike a chord in tune as your hands casually fall past his belt buckle...

A beautiful melody that makes his dimples grow deeper, though he still tilts his head, frowning adorably as he perpetually continues to figure things out just for the sake of figuring things out...

Yeah?

Cos, what is the motive here? As your hands do settle gently at the hem of his jeans, fingers teasingly dipping into the softness of his navel?

Hook + Pull = Gravity.

Oh, man, do you make him feel insane things? Cause you’ve been on your guard for the whole day, some goals are hard!

Are you coming ahead of all his sneaky schemes? Are you a baddie too?

Cause now you’re just holding up a higher card like you’ve been doing in every game today. Maybe you... are... on top of your game... The candy of victory is better when it’s hard...

Gravity... Your lips inch closer.

Your slightly parted lips & that parched swallow might just give Blondie a hint of how desperately you want him to melt on your tongue. And you’re over worrying about it. You even yank at his necklace.

The way his hair falls over your lashes creates a delightful distraction as your noses nearly collide. And the best you can pretend in this intimacy is filthy, “I still haven’t forgiven you.”

“Ummmmm...”

On brand! Disturbingly sexy hum that flows like honey—a sugary glaze, coating your lips in a deliciously gooey way. You’re hit with the sting & the toxin even before Jaehyun has a chance to consider kissing you or taking any steps. He smiles, he’s just that awful...

“You will.”

Alas,

the abrupt grating noise of tires screeching to a stop cuts through the dull ambience outside. A lively group seems to spill out of the truck, loud and as if they’ve just been recharged. A voice you both instantly recognize calls out, saturated with sarcasm and clearly wanting to grab ‘someone’s’ ears.

“Greeat! We’ve just rolled into ‘Losers Place!’”

What a Dullass Bullshit Scenario... for Losers.

Jaehyun scoffs lightly, giving a flimsy half-eye roll, his lips pursed in a way that shows just how unimpressed he is with the moment... Inexplicable urgency drives his body into yours one last time, likely a final act of connection.

He hadn’t even had the chance to pin your hands above your head or hold your jaw in a way that would leave you feeling completely—

There was no pulling of hair, nor did you wrap your arms around his neck to-to—

Nor did your tongue map out the crossroads on his stomach...

Or—

Clear anger paints your temple, too, each line bearing frustration... Just there’s something about keeping it a secret that bodies the danger factor, making everything feel so much more smoky and intense.

& you pout as much, nudging your nose against his as to where you feel all deprived but electrified by simply- just- doing that, softly whispering against his lips, breath all drenched,

“Do you think they know?”

Girlie, Fuck! Do you know what you do to him?

#jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #nct 127 #nct #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun x reader #nct x reader #jaehyun imagines #nct x you #jaehyun x you #jaehyun smut #jaehyun fluff #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #jaehyun fic #nct imagines #jaehyun scenarios #nct 127 x reader #kpop

223 notes · View notes

valkyrieromanoff · 27 days ago

Text

God bless your dad's genetics… Dilf! Anakin x son’s girlfriend!reader

PREVIOUS NEXT

CHAPTER FIVE: SAUNA

synopsis: trapped in a sweltering sauna with Anakin, a tense confrontation unravels hidden truths about his fractured marriage to Padmé, leaving you torn between guilt, forbidden desire, and a fragile connection that defies reason.

warning: age gap (Anakin is 44 years old and the reader is in her early 20s), cheating, alternate universe, angst

words: 3.0k

a/n: hello there, I confess that I started writing thinking it would be something hotter, maybe something happening, but then I started listening to 'Love is pain' by Finneas, and it ended up being more depressing than I imagined, anyway, I hope you like it ;) I appreciate the comments to know if the story is flowing for you too

Say it's not okay to feel that way It's real, you may not make her happy So what's wrong with me? If honestly, I wanna be the only way she can be

You left the pool in a rush, every step feeling heavier than the last. Avoiding Anakin had become a survival instinct. You muttered something about a headache to Luke, your voice barely steady, and excused yourself, desperate for escape. Anakin had suggested walking you to your cabin, concern evident in his eyes, but you’d refused—your heart pounding, your resolve teetering. You had to get away before you slipped further, before the line you shouldn’t cross blurred beyond recognition.

In the sanctuary of your cabin, you stripped off the bikini and stepped into the cold shower. The icy water hit your skin like a shock, chasing away the warmth he’d left lingering. You lathered soap onto your body, each motion deliberate, as if scrubbing away the memory of his touch—the way his hands had grazed your thighs, the way his eyes had traced every curve.

You closed your eyes, letting the water cascade over your face, but the memories were relentless. His rough, calloused hands on your skin. That low, gravelly voice that curled around your senses, sending shivers down your spine. Heat pooled in your core, an ache that refused to be washed away.

Stop it. You forced your eyes open, breath unsteady. This was dangerous—a free fall with no safety net. You couldn’t let yourself get lost in these thoughts.

Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel, needing something—anything—to pull you back to reality. Grabbing your phone, you opened the notes app and started a list. Pros and cons. Maybe seeing it in black and white would make it easier to resist.

Cons: he’s married, he’s Luke’s father, he’s much older. It’s reckless. Dangerous. Wrong.

Each point was a red flag, glaring and impossible to ignore. Rationally, you knew this. But your heart pounded, a traitorous rhythm that whispered other truths.

Pros: the way his eyes lingered on you, seeing more than anyone else, the warmth of his touch, the strength in his hands. That smile—dangerous, disarming, a weapon you had no defense against and the way your body responded, drawn to him like a magnet, every nerve alive and yearning.

You stared at the list, fingers trembling. The cons screamed caution, logic, self-preservation. But the pros—the pros were written in fire, each memory a brand on your skin, a temptation that refused to be ignored.

You can’t let this happen. But deep down, a darker, quieter voice whispered back, What if it already has?

_____________

“Come on, it’ll be nice…” Leia stood insistently at your cabin door, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe the massage will even help with your headache. You know, sometimes it’s more psychological than physical—stress and all that.” Her voice softened thoughtfully, her genuine concern shining through.

Beside her, Padmé nodded, the white terrycloth robe draped elegantly over her frame. “If you don’t like it, you can leave early,” she added gently, her tone soothing. “Just try to relax a little. You seem tense.”

Her kindness cut through you like a knife. The warmth in her voice, the sincerity in her eyes—it felt like a cruel reminder of the line you’d already crossed in your mind. Padmé wasn’t some distant, untouchable figure; she was right here, extending her hand to you, offering comfort. A good woman. A devoted wife. A loving mother.

How could you do this to her? The bitter taste of guilt churned in your stomach, rising like bile. She didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve the betrayal lurking in the corners of your heart, the passion you’d allowed to bloom for her husband.

It had been easier when you’d painted her as unreachable, cold—a distant figure, more concept than person. A political figurehead. A symbol. But now? Now she was real, flesh and blood, standing before you with empathy in her eyes and concern in her voice. Each word, each gentle look, felt like a condemnation.

“I don’t know, I…” The words barely escaped, your voice a whisper, cracking under the weight of shame. The air felt heavy, thick with unspoken truths. You couldn’t pretend everything was okay, not when the guilt was a stone in your chest, pressing down, suffocating.

Warm tears blurred your vision before you even realized you were crying. Padmé’s eyes widened, her brow furrowing with concern. She stepped forward, her hands resting gently on your shoulders, guiding you into an embrace.

You clung to her, your sobs muffled against the soft fabric of her robe. Her touch was comforting, maternal—everything you didn’t deserve. Each tear that fell was laced with guilt, each sob a silent confession. She held you, whispering reassurances, her kindness only deepening the ache inside you.

“Why are you crying, dear?” she asked softly, pulling back just enough to search your face.

The lie slipped out before you could stop it. “I… I miss my parents.” The words tasted hollow, but Padmé’s smile was understanding, her eyes filled with a compassion that twisted the knife deeper.

A few minutes later, the three of you walked together to the spa, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken truths. Leia and Padmé, already dressed in their robes, went straight to the massage area. You watched them, the weight of your guilt pressing down, a constant reminder of the betrayal you carried.

An employee handed you a robe, gesturing toward the changing room down the hall. Each step felt heavier than the last, the simple fabric in your hands a tangible symbol of the role you played—the lie you lived.

The mirror in the changing room reflected not just your image but the conflict etched in every line of your face. This trip was meant to be an escape, a simple act of kindness for a friend. But here, in the quiet moments between words, it was becoming a battle you weren’t sure you could win.

Should you turn left or right? You hesitated, brow furrowed, as you left the locker room. The ship felt like a maze, each identical hallway blurring into the next. It must be the last door at the end. You convinced yourself, hands stuffed into the pockets of your fluffy robe, heart pounding with an unease you couldn’t shake.

The moment you pushed open the fogged glass door, a wave of heat enveloped you. The air was thick, oppressive, making your cheeks flush from the contrast with the cooler hallway. Your eyes scanned the room—large wooden benches lining the walls, steam rising in ethereal curls.

This isn’t the massage room, you realized, your pulse quickening. There should have been stretchers, calming music, not this suffocating heat. You turned to leave, but the sound of approaching footsteps froze you.

Anakin.

He stood there, a white towel wrapped low around his waist, another draped around his neck. Droplets of sweat glistened on his skin, catching the flickering light. His hair, damp and tousled, framed those piercing blue eyes that locked onto yours.

Panic surged. You spun around, hands fumbling with the door handle. It wouldn’t budge. Desperation mounted as you pounded against the fogged glass.

“You’re going to hurt yourself. Stop.” His voice was calm, almost soft, but the weight of it made you freeze. His fingers closed around your wrist, gentle but firm. “They lock it for the duration of the sauna,” he explained.

You jerked your arm away, as if his touch scalded you more than the heat. Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you avoided his gaze, staring at the floor instead.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me for twenty minutes, angel,” Anakin murmured, his tone laced with something dangerous. He took a step closer. “Are you sure you want to spend that time sulking over there?”

You shrank back, clutching your robe tighter. “Don’t touch me,” you whispered, voice trembling with something between anger and fear.

His smile didn’t falter. That infuriating, knowing glint remained in his eyes. “You didn’t complain about my touch earlier today,” he said, the words a sharp jab, dragging the memory out into the open.

“Is everything a fucking joke to you?” The words escaped in a rush, your voice raw, quivering with anger and shame.

Anakin raised his hands, his expression a mix of confusion and defiance. “Wow, angel. What the hell bit you?”

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the thick air. Moving past him, you sank onto the sauna bench, eyes fixed on the floor. “Why?” The question was barely more than a whisper.

He frowned, pacing, frustration etched into every line of his body. “You’re going to have to give me more than that.”

“Padmé.” The name was a raw wound, guilt twisting in your chest. “She doesn’t deserve this. She’s… she’s kind. She’s everything.” Your voice cracked, the words a confession and an accusation all at once.

Anakin’s jaw clenched, his steps faltering. “Oh, so you’re feeling guilty, and you decided to take it out on me?” His voice was sharp, defensive, but there was something else beneath it—a fracture, a hint of something deeper.

Tears pricked your eyes. “You don’t deserve her.” The words were out before you could stop them, trembling with conviction.

He stopped pacing, exhaling a strangled sigh. For a moment, he stared at the door, as if the answers lay beyond it. “You don’t know shit,” he muttered, frustration threading through his voice.

You stood, anger and shame boiling over. “I know you shouldn’t have cheated on her.” You pointed a shaking finger at his chest, each word a stone thrown, heavy with accusation.

Anakin’s eyes flashed, something raw and dangerous surfacing. “Look, angel, I didn’t do it alone.” His voice dropped, low and rough. “In fact, you seemed pretty eager at the time.”

The truth of it hit you like a punch, leaving you breathless. His words weren’t just a defense—they were a mirror, reflecting the darkness you were trying so hard to avoid. You’re just as guilty. The realization twisted inside you, a storm you couldn’t escape.

Before you could stop yourself, your hand collided with his cheek, the sharp crack echoing in the steamy room. Shock and guilt hit you immediately, your eyes wide, breath shallow. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” you mumbled, stumbling back. But before you could escape, Anakin’s fingers wrapped around your wrist, his grip firm, knuckles white.

“Do you want to know the truth?” His voice was low, rough, the words simmering with something raw and dangerous. “Do you want to know the fucked-up truth about the ‘happy family’?” His face was so close to yours that your noses almost touched, the heat between you both stifling in more ways than one.

You swallowed hard, locked in his intense gaze, fear and something else—something thrilling—warring in your mind. He let go of your wrist, the sudden release making you stumble, falling onto the bench.

Anakin sighed, running a hand through his damp curls, his eyes distant. He sank onto the bench beside you, the space between you filled with a heavy silence. He didn’t look at you; instead, his gaze fixed on some point in the past only he could see.

“Padmé was my first love.” His voice was quiet, a mix of nostalgia and sadness. “I met her in school. She was a few years ahead of me, barely noticed I existed, but I swore I’d marry that girl one day.” A small, bitter smile played at his lips. “I met her again in college. I was nineteen. It was like those years had only made the feelings stronger. We thought we had everything figured out.”

You watched the way his fingers twisted together, the vulnerability in his posture unfamiliar. He was always so controlled, so intense. This was different—raw, unguarded.

“I proposed on our third date. Stupid, right?” He laughed, but it was hollow. “We got married that year. We were barely adults, but the love… it felt invincible. We thought we had our lives in our hands.”

You listened, your heart aching at the weight in his voice, the way his words carried the residue of dreams gone wrong.

“I joined the army right after. Months apart, letters are our only connection. It was hard, but it was worth it, our love worth it. Padmé got pregnant, and when I found out I was going to be a father... It was the best day of my life.” His eyes flickered with a light that dimmed as he continued. “I left the army when the twins were born. Padmé had just been elected, and I always knew she was always going to outshine me… Her future would be brighter”

His knee brushed against yours, the touch grounding, almost accidental. Yet it felt like a tether, holding you in the moment.

“The first few years were... perfect. Like an eternal honeymoon. I had everything I’d ever dreamed of. The wife. The kids. It felt like nothing could go wrong.” His voice faltered. “But it did. Slowly. Quietly. I don’t even know when we fell out of love. Was it the mornings waking up to an empty bed? The nights she worked late, barely noticing me anymore? I felt like I was falling down her priority list”

He laughed, a broken sound. “Maybe it was my fault. My jealousy of some stranger she met while I was gone. The arguments. The things I said that I can’t take back. I tried, but… she cried. And it was always my fault.”

You didn’t say anything, each word settling like a stone in your chest. Your heart ached—not just for him, but for Padmé, for the ghost of the love they’d lost.

“Leia and Luke were ten when we finally sat down and had a real conversation. We laid it all out. Everything.” He paused, his hands clenching into fists. “We should have divorced. We both knew it. But Padmé had just been elected to the Senate. She was already under scrutiny, criticized just for being a woman in power. If we divorced her career could have collapsed.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. This wasn’t what you’d expected. The image of their perfect marriage crumbled in front of you, replaced by something real, something flawed.

“We stayed together. Not out of love, but because we couldn’t afford to fall apart.” He finally looked at you, his eyes raw, haunted. “That’s the truth.”

You opened your mouth, searching for words, but nothing came. What could you say? He’d laid bare a part of himself you’d never seen, and the weight of it pressed down on you both. The guilt you felt twisted deeper, sharper, yet there was something else—a desperate need to comfort him, to ease his pain.

Your hand hovered near his, hesitant, the boundary between what you wanted and what you should do blurring. “Anakin…” you whispered, your voice soft, unsure.

He didn’t pull away, but the space between you was heavy with everything unspoken. In that moment, all you wanted was to bridge the gap, to offer solace. But you knew the line was thin, the risk too great. So you stayed there, the silence wrapping around you both, an unsteady truce in the heat of the sauna.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” The words slipped out, barely more than a whisper. Your hand rested on his, a tentative connection.

Anakin’s eyes softened, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “It’s not like we go around telling people.” There was a bitterness in his voice, a weight beneath the casual words.

You swallowed, the questions swirling in your mind too heavy to hold back. “But how? It’s been years. You’ve been married for over twenty years… How did you make it work?” Confusion and curiosity tangled in your voice, the pieces of his story not fitting the perfect image you’d held of his family.

He tilted his head, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips. “You’re a curious little thing, aren’t you?” he teased, his tone lighter, but his eyes held a depth that pulled you in. He turned your hand, his fingers sliding between yours, the contact sending a jolt through you.

His voice dropped, quieter now. “We’re married on paper, but that’s all it is. Separate bedrooms. Separate lives. We stay married because… well, it’s easier that way. For Padmé’s career, for the image we’ve built. We can’t marry other people, but we… find companionship where we can.”

Your mouth fell open in surprise, the confession hitting you like a wave. This wasn’t the story you’d imagined.

Anakin’s expression was unreadable as he continued, his voice calm, almost detached. “I’ve had my fair share of… casual encounters. And Padmé has had hers. We have an understanding.” He paused, his eyes searching yours, as if waiting for judgment.

The words felt surreal. “You just… ignore it? The other people?”

A flicker of something—pain, maybe regret—crossed his face. “We don’t talk about it. We don’t need to. It’s none of my business what she does, just like it’s none of hers who I spend my nights with.” He exhaled, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “I’m sure she and her secretary, Sabé, have something. I’ve never asked. It’s… easier that way.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken thoughts. You tried to process it, to reconcile the man before you with the image of the family you’d known. There was a sadness in his voice, an emptiness that tugged at something deep inside you.

Your thumb brushed gently over his knuckles, the gesture instinctive, an attempt to offer comfort. “That… sounds lonely.”

His eyes met yours, the mask slipping just enough for you to see the truth beneath. “It is.” The admission was soft, raw. A single word that held years of quiet suffering, of nights spent in an empty bed, of dreams that had slowly unraveled.

Your heart ached for him, for Padmé, for the fragile facade they’d built and maintained for so long. You wanted to say something, anything, to bridge the gap between you. But the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, you sat there, your hand still in his, the heat of the sauna wrapping around you both. The silence was heavy, but it wasn’t empty. It was filled with everything you couldn’t say—the understanding, the guilt, the unspoken connection that pulled you toward him, even when you knew you shouldn’t.

#anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #dilf anakin x reader #dilf anakin #alternative wolrd #star wars #hayden christensen

171 notes · View notes

clearwingedmaven · 23 days ago

Text

As voted by the people, I'm offering my analysis on the Hound of the Baskervilles.

Firstly, and getting this out of the way, I adore the Hound of the Baskervilles. My chosen area of focus in my Master's Program was Gothic Literature, and this novel hits all of my favorite aspects of the field.

But there's more to it that I've noticed.

Chiefly among them being that most of the novel focuses on Watson, rather than Sherlock Holmes. While yes, it may have been a product of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle being bitter that he was forced to bring Holmes back, for this novel in particular, I think it's brilliant.

It operates under the premise that this Hound, this creature, is a Fairy Tale come to life and stalks the moor to bring death to all of those of the Baskerville family. In this sense, Watson, as he normally is a vehicle for the audience, is also a purveyor of a Legend come to life.

Watson, even if Sherlock Holmes is never quite Gothic, never quite horror, becomes a Gothic protagonist the more he lives in Dartmoor and learns about the family. But he's an evolution of a Gothic protagonist, too.

By the 1890s, the Decadence movement primarily took up the reins of Gothic Literature, creating what we know as fin-de-siecle, or the turn of the century. Many protagonists of this age fell to sin, corruption, and hedonism, such as the case of Dorian Gray.

(I find it fitting to use Dorian Gray, as Oscar Wilde and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle met over a meal that lead to the creation of both A Study in Scarlet and the Picture of Dorian Gray.)

But Watson? He remains steadfast in his nature. He never falls to the era defining corruption and sin, and, even evolves in his deductive reasoning when he finally finds and reunites with Holmes towards the end of the novel.

Even still, he still is, a Gothic protagonist, alongside Sir Henry. They navigate the Baskerville home on the Moor, a crumbling, haunted place, ripe with ancestral sin.

That is what defined the time, even if Watson never falls to sin and corruption. Decadence and fin-de-siecle were defined by all things falling to sin, decay, and rot. What was once glamorous and majestic of the preceding Aesthetic movement had rotted away, underneath.

And, given that Holmes and Watson reunite towards the end of the novel, they yet again defy the era's expectation of Gothic Literature. Their presence is hope, a light in the corruption that drags at the Baskerville family name. While by definition, perhaps a deus ex machina, it works brilliantly.

After all, who else could you go to, when there's a beast of legend killing your family?

As for the Hound itself. It alone is one of the greatest images of late Gothic horror I know. A coal black hound, muzzle shrouded in flame and phosphorous and snapping at your heels... it indeed installs primal, Gothic terror. It makes you ask, what's real? What's not? Can I even trust my reality anymore?

And it's also something that Holmes, for all of his brain and power of the mind, does not know. It invokes a sense of delicious, morbid terror, that while amazed, our detective is just as in the dark as we are before the Hound is killed. And it again, creates another layer of vulnerability that we don't normally get to see.

Lastly, the Hound is also fantastic in invoking the Black Dog Fairy Tales of Europe and beyond. A lot of cultures have a tale, from the Cu-Sith of the Celts, to the Black Dogs roaming England. It strikes fear, because it is used as one of the bases for what we form logic around, as Fairy Tales and folklore so often do for children throughout history.

Perhaps Stapleton knew about this, and preyed upon it on purpose? It's fascinating to think about.

All in all, this is why I adore this novel. Gothic Literature, character evolution, and Fairy Tales...? It's brilliant.

#acd holmes #acd canon #the hound of the baskervilles #Sherlock Holmes analysis with Clear #sherlock holmes #john watson #gothic literature #Seriously I love love love this story #And I hope you do too.

153 notes · View notes

qqueenofhades · 5 months ago

Note

I’ve had this feeling for a while, but the last few weeks have made it stronger: I feel like people are just sick of Trump, even people that are solid Republicans. Even aside from the politics and the threat to democracy that he represents, I’m just tired of hearing about him and all the vitriolic buffoonery that comes out of him. He’s a class clown that’s gone from occasionally funny to just annoying. And I’m sure there’s plenty of Republican voters that resent what an absolute cultish embarrassment he’s made of their party. Even if I had no other reason to vote, I would’ve still voted blue in the desperate hope that I might not have to hear about Trump anymore.

I mean... Yeah.

The other day, we had a whole group of Arizona Republicans (otherwise known as one of the most extreme and cultist state GOP parties in the country) coming out as the leaders of a Republicans for Harris taskforce. Republicans for Harris also immediately hit it big on Twitter. Haley Voters For Biden instantly changed their name to Haley Voters For Harris and told Haley herself to hit the bricks when she laughably threatened them with legal action. There were always a few Never Trump Republicans before, but like. Not many. And many of them have ventured like, one criticism and immediately fallen back into line when Trump posted one mean tweet about them, because they have spines like soufflés.

Now mind you, the entire national/establishment GOP is still completely and cravenly beholden to Trump in ways that defy all logical human understanding, but people who have voted Republican all their lives and did so habitually once or even twice for Trump are increasingly hitting breaking point, and that should be noted. If you want to know how much, the goddamn MORMONS are, allegedly, preparing to quit the GOP this election in larger volumes than they have voted for Democrats in at least 60 years. I don't know how much this will end up panning out, and they have always been at least somewhat skeptical of him in comparison to the completely deranged mainstream evangelical fundies, but. The Mormons. THE MORMONS. Voting for a black female Democrat for president? In my wildest fantasies, this makes me think of Blue Utah 2024 like Blue Indiana 2008 (yes, that happened, along with Blue Florida TWICE).

Trump does have and will always have his ever-dwindling base of diehard cultists, but they have not and will never be numerous enough to win a fair democratic election on their own, which is why the GOP has pulled every dirty trick in the book trying to ensure that they don't have to. But yes: there are many more of us than them, and if we finally pull together and quit arguing about dumb shit, we could get rid of Trump once and for all, and god. GOD. I long for that day so bad and I can finally think it might be coming. So let us NOT fucking screw this up, kay? Kay.

#citizen-zero #ask #harris walz 2024

314 notes · View notes

colourstreakgryffin · 11 months ago

Note

hii! could u write headcanons of Alastor x Male (preferly) Overlord Reader who is the opposite of him? Rarely smiles, isn't very chatty and is rough? and since Alastor loves dancing and singing, maybe Reader is shy about it and doesn't like the way he dances and sings?

You know what! I am gonna kill two birds with one stone and make us an Ink Demon! Overlord. So, we’re basically like Baby Bendy from the second BATIM game. Don’t know it? Look it up. One side is harmless and adorable and the other side is monstrous and vicious— however. Here, it’ll just be causal demon form than evil demonic Ink Demon form! Anyway. Let’s goooo. I’ve been doing a lot of GN for Alastor, this time we got a man! I don’t know if you want us to be romantic, I am just gonna guess platonic

Alastor- Follow Me

You look pretty cute and friendly. Black and white, cartoony, with adorable stereotypical demon features like arch-like horns and a long-thin tipped tail. Most importantly, your entire body is made of ink. Only your clothing is touchable, otherwise, your ‘skin’ is so soft, liquidity and stains anything it touches. For that reason and one more, you harden yourself up and avoid conversation

Alastor, the Radio Demon, is not a fan of making friends with men. He prefers women, they are just easier to talk to. However, you’re not as vile and unlikeable as most men with your personality is. You’re the strict, stern, responsible one of the Overlords, ordering the other Overlords to pay attention to Camilla Carmine

Alastor doesn’t know why but he finds you interesting

Your uncontrollable Ink Demon side is extremely violent and merciless so you had to develop a thick shell, in order to make sure nothing can make it trigger at random. It’s too much of a risk, hence why you behave in the way you do. It’s a self-defence mechanism and it’s a protection method to everybody else around too

Alastor doesn’t even care that you’re untouchable. He will touch you anyway, getting annoyed by the black ink forming your body in a in-fact, solid fashion, getting onto his sleeves or hand but he ignores it to converse with you

Alastor also ignores the gruff warnings you give out when he approaches you. That you’re dangerous and that the Ink Beast will try rip him to pieces if it’s let out. If anybody thinks Alastor would be scared of the Ink Demon, they have another thing coming. He’d actually like to face off this Ink Beast one day

It looks like, to every other Overlord, that Alastor is talking to a brick wall when he talks to you. Since you’re not responding not even looking at him, just focusing on Camilla and her statements with the most bland and rough expression, not a single hint of a grin. You’re the opposite of Alastor and yet, he’d like to befriend you

Alastor keeps trying and trying without even halting. He’s quite the persistent man and when he wants to befriend somebody, he won’t stop until he gets what he desires and at this moment, it’s to make friends with you, rather you shut him down and bark at him to stay away

Alastor finds your overall appearance cute. You look like you were drawn for a kids cartoon in the early 19th century. Possibly around his own time of the 1920s-1930s. You’re bendy and mendable, you defy all laws of logic and have cartoon physics on your side. You’re like if a kids cartoon demon tried to be a big bad mafia boss and ruled a part of Hell itself, and he isn’t filtered when it comes to this opinion. He straight up tells you all that

Alastor, overtime, ends up succeeding like the little I don’t take no for a answer brat he is in getting you to agree in joining him out to the Hazbin Hotel and accompanying him for a nice little tour. Throughout the tour, he notices that some music in the Lobby is blasting and without even hesitating, he drags you over to join him into a dance

“Come, my dear sir. Let us dance this tension away!” Alastor chimes out rather excited, immediately leading you into a half-messy dance performance with him as the head. You just stumble along, slightly gritting your fangs in discomfort but it won’t be acknowledged by Alastor in the slightest. All he cares about is putting a smile on your face

Alastor laughs warmly as you attempt to try keep up with him during this dance he had dragged you into. You’re clearly quite timid, not enjoying the way the Deer Overlord dances and sings but you either don’t care enough to shut him up or you are too kind to try shut him up

Alastor likes to tease you about your behaviour and your looks. He isn’t frightened or intimidated at all by your beast side and you’re too colourless and squishy to be scary, he does actually view you as a wonderful friend. Even whilst you’re cold and dismissive, he can get you to acknowledge him and be polite to him so it’s a win for Alastor in the end

It’s been a long time since Alastor got a male friend so he can be more crude and snarky with you, without actually needing to be sensitive, like with his women friends

“My good fellow. You don’t need to act so broody. Smile now, you’re safe and whatever you are worried about, it’s not going to do anything to you or me or anybody in this Hotel”

358 notes · View notes

the-clock-of-the-time-dragon · 6 days ago

Text

Musings on how magic works in the Wicked musical/film(s):

So I've actually never really heard anyone explore in-depth how the powers work in Wicked, because I guess they're both simple AND mysterious enough that most people regard them as self-explanatory. But I think there's actually a lot of interesting things we might learn about the characters and world through observing how and when magic happens in Oz.

So with the Grimmerie, it seems to work by reading people's hearts and granting them an approximation of what they ask for. I've pointed out before how it's kind of a mirror version of what the Wizard does: people come asking for their "heart's desire", and both the Wizard and the Grimmerie want to grant that desire and make people happy. But whereas the Wizard must do this with charlatanry (and in the end, people always end up having to either go and get what they came for themselves, elsewhere, or they already had it all along), the Grimmerie can actually twist reality to give people some version of what they wanted (and didn't already have): but it always comes with some fucked up cost that makes them regret it. It plays into the overarching theme of "what is happiness? Is it getting your heart's desire? What will you give up to get it? Is it worth it?", etc. I think it could even be inferred that every character who ever comes into contact with the book — directly or indirectly — is in a way "cursed" to never obtain true happiness, only a mockery of what they'd imagined happiness to be. This extends to the Wizard, Glinda, Morrible, Elphaba, Nessa, and even Chistery. And the grander the desire, the graver the cost for getting it — Chistery is able to get away with physical pain for his dream of flying, but the human characters all have their dreams come true only in ways they are never able to actually enjoy. I think the reason Elphaba is the only one able to not only read the book but get away with using it repeatedly, is due to her own innate power.

Elphaba's power is very different from that of the Grimmerie. She seems to have the ability to just flat-out REJECT ACCEPTED REALITY. She defies the law of gravity; even TIME (essentially "remembering" things that have yet to happen). Every time we see her use her powers, she does so to STOP what is transpiring, or simply to say NO to what is before her. Making things fall up instead of down, recalling the future instead of the past, reading books that are illegible. It's in keeping with her overall character, being off, or backwards, or at odds with everything around her: crowds part as if repelled when she comes near; her first day of school she's already being told she's going to excel far beyond what any of the other students could ever hope to achieve. The idea of "I clash with everything" isn't just a joke about color coordination, it's quite literally how she interacts with the world, including on a metaphysical level. She distorts and repulses.

The reason she has such a different relationship to the Grimmerie than everyone else who's tried to use it, is precisely because she clashes with everything. More importantly: she rejects both the world as it is, AND the world as she wants it. She denies her own desires for the sake of what she considers more important. She knows that she can have all she ever wanted: but she can't. She won't. She chooses to go AGAINST heart's desire, REJECT happiness — to deny HERSELF. Something that, perhaps, only a child of both Oz and Kansas — of fantasy and reality — is able to do. She's so at odds with the fantasy world she's been born into, so committed to Truth — a world of objective non-fiction — that she actively says no to her own dreams, and can literally disrupt and challenge the basic laws and logics of the story that she's in. She can use the Grimmerie because she uses the same language: negation. You can't reverse the Grimmerie's spells because they ARE reversals — distortions of a twisted nature. But Elphaba can't want what she truly wants in her heart; she rejects it; it's already reversed. To the "what are you willing to give up to get what you want?" question, Elphaba is the only one in Oz who can honestly just reply "NO", and give up her heart's desire of her own accord.

Now, how Morrible's powers work seem to be a lot different from the others. Her abilities aren't derived directly from the Grimmerie (though we know she has at least studied it), and appear to be innate like Elphaba's, but they manifest very differently. But why weather?? I think it pertains to her innate nature. She's a manipulator whose temperament changes like the wind (warm with some and cold with others), capable of clouding the truth or making things clear as she pleases, and acts as if the world revolves around her like a cyclone. She has total control over her powers because her power is control. There might have been a time when her powers were more benign — she says her talent is "encouraging talent", so perhaps we could infer that her true powers are motivating/suggesting things, giving directions, and that whenever she developed into the truly wicked person she is now, that power darkened into coercion/manipulation. So she can direct a cloud to disperse, encourage a wind to blow, or persuade a crowd to become a raging tempest.

As for Glinda: the musical/film(s) kinda implies she doesn't have any powers?? At least not the innate kind that Elphaba and Morrible have. We haven't seen her use any spells (except a simple one that got cut way back in the pre-Broadway tryout run of the musical), her bubble is shown to be mechanical rather than magical, and she's obviously interested in learning sorcery but fails the only time we really see her try to use it, and she doesn't believe she can read the Grimmerie. So whatever magic Glinda possesses has to be developed, and given she has never really been encouraged to do so (whether in school or when she's Glinda the Good), she probably hasn't had much of a chance to become a real witch by the time the story wraps up (although it would be a fun inclusion if the second film shows her using a spell at some point). Also: since magic seems to be related to character's personal qualities or narrative themes, it's actually quite meaningful that Glinda (at the very least) struggles to use it — she's constantly questioning who she is, what she wants, etc., and so whether she possesses a natural power of her own or needs to develop it through training, we might infer that her magic is similarly "unsure" of what it's supposed to do.

Feel free to respond with any thoughts — I just find this aspect of the story really interesting and hopefully this all came together to at least mostly make sense, lol

#wicked #elphaba thropp #gelphie #glinda upland #glinda x elphaba #elphaba #wicked movie #elphaba x glinda #glinda #madame morrible #grimmerie

95 notes · View notes

maxwell-grant · 1 month ago

Note

I think it’s interesting, considering how most live-action superhero adaptations kill off the villains after their debut, that both The Batman and The Penguin end with the villains not just living, but set up to return and somehow cause Even Bigger Problems down the line. Is this just because it’s the first Batman film adaptation that’s a capital-F Franchise, so the writers need the villains to stick around long-term, or is something else going on?

Almost entirely comes down to the fact that The Batman was not meant to be Batman's origin story - by Reeves' own admission, it was the origin story of the Rogues Gallery. They got the Cloverfield and Dawn of the Planet of the Apes guy and he did a story about the boots-on-the-ground gritty perspective on larger-than-life terrors emerging from the ruins and failings of human civilization, taking the struggles and wars and laborious processes that others shy away from and putting them front in center. It's just this time, instead of kaijus and parasites attacking and destroying the city, instead of apes emerging as the Mad Max warlords rising from the ashes to fight over the world, we have Batman villains in that role instead.

To me, that was actually the conception - if we weren't going to do a Batman origin story, but we were going to do it in the early years, I thought well, in the comics, the rogues gallery characters often are creating their alter egos in response to the fact that a masked vigilante shows up in Gotham called the Batman.

And so I thought, oh well, what we could do is see all of the rogue's gallery characters in their origins, like Selina Kyle before she's Catwoman, and that we could go into, as we're looking for a suspect, we could go to a nightclub, a nightclub could be the Iceberg Lounge and we could see a pre-kingpin Oz, and we could see, you know, a Riddler who is declaring himself the Riddler sort of because there's a Batman. And so all of that was sort of built into the conception. - Matt Reeves

It's far from the first Batman film adaptation to be a capital-F Franchise, even if that aspect was there - Reeves initially pitched the movie as an HBO series, and throughout production pitched additional show ideas such as an Arkham show or a Gotham PD show, The Penguin being the only one that survived as far as we know. This pulls off an origin from the Rogues Gallery better than every other Batman media ever made, and there's a couple of reasons why it does so and why the villains get to take center stage here:

Part of the difference between the way Nolan tackled realistic Batman, and the way Reeves tackles realistic Batman, is that Nolan needs realism to explain Batman, and Reeves needs realism entirely in the service of making Batman weirder. Pattison Batman is the weirdest Bruce ever put on film almost entirely because he lives in our world while still being Batman in every way that counts - Keaton Bats slept upside down in a cave, but he lived in a Tim Burton world. Adam West Bats is weird, but everybody is like that or even weirder than he is, he is the comedic straightman to everyone else. And where as Nolan needs Batman to be the thing that makes sense, Reeves needs Batman to be the thing that doesn’t make sense.

Nolan wanted weird difficult irreducible villains opposite a logical pragmatically sensible Batman, and Reeves wants exactly the opposite. For Nolan, even besides the Joker who was defined entirely around the lack of a real explanation for him, you have his take on Two-Face, Bane, the Al Ghuls, characters that don't demand that much reasoning or explanation because they can act and exist in ways that defy logic, while Batman's the guy who has to hold the center of logic and reason. Where as here, Pattison Batman is the most interesting and complicated and larger-than-life figure this world is dealing with in much the same way that Ledger Joker was for his movie, and everyone else is in the position of starting out and having to deal with Batman and the paradigm shift he brings - nobody else in the movie is quite the character they were supposed to be, that's something they're all growing into in response to their nightmare city and what this titanic freak in armor represents to them.

Even The Riddler is ultimately explainable, human, reducible to his tantrums and vulnerabilities, even without you knowing in-depth his character and backstory that would be elaborated for Dano's Year One. Even The Penguin - he may be larger-than-life, he may be unexplainable on some level, but we know all too well all of his failings and feelings and life story and all the cracks in his persona that he killed Victor to try and bury. But Batman? Next to everyone else, he is still an anomaly, he is just Like That, even to his own detriment and that of the city, and he learns that he must apply being Like That to something better.

Reeves is not interested in doing "Batman vs [X]" movies, the movies are going to be focused on Batman's arc first and foremost, which means the villains will never really take them over the way they've usually done - this is a world where it's the villains who react to Batman, not the other way around. This frees them from the burden of having to exist in direct relation to how much they can directly menace Batman, and it makes it so that these are characters that can carry their own spin-offs, which is probably a lot easier for WB to work with because these are spin-offs that they don't really have to get Pattison to show up for, but they can construct in ways that don't even need Batman to be physically there. Even after The Penguin, they might not have to do that Smallville/Gotham song-and-dance of teasing a main character who'll never get to be here, there are a lot of other things happening in Reeves' Gotham besides the existence of Batman, even if the existence of Batman has changed all of them. So structurally speaking this series has a ton of room for reocurring villains, and building it has been one of their top priorities. In fact, this ONLY gets to do so because the movie already laid out the entire groundwork for them and how it all ties together.

See, the way Batman stories do the rise of a Rogues Gallery and how it affects the city and therefore Batman always follows a sort of a 7-step program:

Gotham City is ruled by crime, crime that takes away the Waynes (Falcone / Carl Grissom (89) / Falcone backed by the League (Nolan) / the Falcone-Hill-Wayne triumvirate (Telltale) / Gotham S1 and first-half of S2)

Crime begats Batman, who beats Crime

Crime + Batman = Weird Crime (Jack Napier becomes Joker after an encounter with Batman (89) / "we still haven't picked up Crane and those other Arkham inmates btw check out this weird card" (Nolan) / Black Mask and the international assassins + Joker's rise (Arkham) / Children of Arkham (Telltale) / the Indian Hill experiments and patients (Gotham)

Weird Crime Replaces Crime (The Long Halloween / Joker takes over the mob (89) / the mob is so impressed by the pencil trick they give Joker all the money (Nolan) / Joker literally replaces Black Mask in the process of becoming Batman's main enemy (Arkham) / Penguin assassinates Mayor Hill and the Children enter a war with Mayor Dent (Telltale) / Indian Hill breakout and Maniax cult and etc (Gotham)

Weird Crime is a Rogues Gallery now (Penguin and Catwoman and Max Shreck in the sequel (Burton) / Joker and Two-Face become separate problems, Bane + Talia + Crane + Catwoman in the sequel (Nolan) / after Origins a whole asylum full of them (Arkham) / Riddler + The Pact and John becoming Joker proper (Telltale) / Gotham S3 with Tetch and Riddler and the Legion of Horribles

The city is changed by the new paradigm

Batman responds / expands or retracts in response to this change

(4 and 5 don't necessarily always happen one before the other, mind you, frequently you do have a Weird Crime Rogues Gallery before Weird Crime replaces Crime at the head of the table)

And you can apply this to most other Batman stories that don't automatically start and stay at level 5. But where as all of these have to stretch the process across sequels and continuations, The Batman is the first Batman work that gets to do all 7 of them in one row. It gets 1 and 2 done offscreen before the opening act and shown to us how they happened throughout the movie's reveals, 3-4-5-6 comprise the Riddler's plot + the other United Underworld members roped into it, and it ends with 7. Even the Batmanless spin-offs follow the process: The Riddler: Year One covers Eddie's perspective on 1-2 as he enters stage 3 and prepares it for the movie, and The Penguin covers 4-5-6, leaving us waiting for Bruce's response back to stage 7 where The Batman ended.

And up until The Batman, the process behind the creation of a Rogues Gallery had never really been much of a process - comics that go into the transition like Long Halloween/Dark Victory just show the fall of Carmine Falcone -> the freaks waiting in the wings causing it or happening immediately after. Gotham tries to work that escalation gradually and it starts relatively "normal", but it's always dancing around the premise and the central black hole and the building blocks don't have anything to do with each other - the gang wars and Penguin have nothing to do with Bruce investigating a conspiracy, which has little to do with Gordon and Bullock investigating weird serial killers who keep escalating, and then eventually we get that Hugo Strange was building freaks in his basement at the orders of the Court/Ra's the whole time until they all just escape. You can piece together how Batman works that aren't about this transition ultimately touch on most of those 7 stages and have their own version of it as soon as they introduce Gotham City in a pre-Batman/pre-villain state, but the connections are always rather tenuous and not necessarily connected to each other (and it's fine, y'know, not everything in a story always has to come from the same source).

But everything in The Batman follows a long chain of dominos that had to happen for this system to become the way it needs to be for Batman villains to emerge. Everything started in that one night Thomas Waynes saved Carmine Falcone, everything started from that ensuing connection and Thomas' failures leading to a city ruled by mobsters for 20 years and the sheer level of rot and corruption and human misery that creates and justifies the existence of Batman, and thus The Riddler in his example. Everything we get in The Penguin is the result of this paradigm shift and total civic collapse, showing the destruction of Carmine's empire as well as his legacies torched and mutated by Sofia and Oz respectively. Everything is still connected. The United Underworld guys featured in the movie live and dwell in entirely separate spaces and represent entirely different things, and they're still all connected in the same chain of dominoes, which allows them to expand and cover entirely separate narrative real estate while still giving it all cohesion.

The movie never has to specifically establish a system full of supervillains or made for them, it has to establish a system so utterly fucked and dominated by Falcone, so utterly failed by every institution and body of government and system imaginable, that it creates Batman, and the minute Batman arrives and survives long enough to be a third power / a fifth state, people in his wake trying to respond to him or do the same things he does, as a response to the same afflictions he faced and to his example or influence, are the only logical thing. Without needing to literally show the other rogues waiting in the wings, The Batman established an entire world of possibility just by very smartly using the 4 big ones + Carmine and showing why and how this regular American city becomes a place where supervillains bombing city blocks and running for political office can become a facet of daily life. Joker, Penguin, Catwoman and Riddler - positioned as separate from each other as possible to show the ways in which this is, and maybe always has been, spreading fast out of Batman's control.

And now with The Penguin, reinforcing the chokehold of crime in the city in it's old ways as well as the corrupt mutated new ones brought on by our boy, as well as a new Batman Villain (possibly two, if Eve Karlo ever gets her hands on suspicious make-up) arriving from Penguin's side of things so that it's not just Batman who has a Rogues Gallery to deal with, not just Batman who has terrific enemies waiting in the wings for a chance to enact their own forms of justice and revenge, no, that's just what life is like in Gotham now, forever.

#replies tag #dc comics #batman #the penguin #the penguin hbo #matt reeves #lauren lefranc #the batman

136 notes · View notes