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tsukimefuku · 9 months ago

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blunt trauma ♰ nanami kento

summary: your mission is to execute a curse user. the issue? said curse user is nanami kento, your former high school classmate and the man who you still secretly love.

tags and cw: dark content, no use of y/n, sorcerer!f!reader, villain!nanami, +18, explicit smut (mostly rough with tender moments hate/love sex), unprotected sex (wrap it, ppl), masturbation, oral (f receiving), pv, from enemies to enemies who fucked 👍, drama and angst (i’m a latina who grew up watching telenovelas), mentions of death, canon-typical violence, ptsd, cursing, hurt/no comfort, this man is saltier than the sea and turned it into everybody else's problem.

wc: 7.5k

notes etc.: somehow it became a character study. this is my rendition of what i think gege would make nanami to be like if they followed their original plan and had nanami be a villain. inspo list is so huge i had to make a playlist, i got carried away.

writing/reading soundtrack: playlist link ; main songs → way down we go (kaleo) and daylight (david kushner).

disclaimer: i do not in any way approve of (or encourage) the relationship depicted here. it is toxic and bad for all parties involved. this is fictional and should stay that way.

oh, father, tell me ♰ do we get what we deserve?

It felt like the air had been beaten out of your lungs by the very one and only blunt blade you ever knew when you heard the news from Gojo.

Of course the first thing he did when he finished wrapping things up was calling you. If roles were reversed, and this had been Geto, he wouldn't expect any less from you.

During the School's Exchange Event, Jujutsu High was attacked by multiple high grade curses and curse users.

One of them was your former best friend from high school, Nanami Kento.

"Are you certain it was him?"

"Absolutely," Gojo replied on the other side of the line, "there were traces of cursed energy from his cursed technique. He was also spotted by one of MeiMei's ravens."

"And how many students did he…"

"Two students from Kyoto."

Your head instantly felt dizzy.

"He also killed around a dozen assistants and people securing cursed objects underground."

"Shit… shit," you muttered, forgetting for a few seconds what words were and how to form a coherent sentence. Following suit, your stomach dropped with a sinking ache the moment you made the obvious realization, uttering the most painful thing you had to say in your life — even worse than he's gone, so many years before.

"This will earn him a death sentence, won't it?"

Gojo was silent for a few moments.

"Hey…"

"Tell me. I can take it."

After a bated breath — from your end, mostly — he confirmed your worst fears.

"Yes. It will."

Ever since Geto's and Nanami's defection, you and Gojo had a special type of shared sorrow over each other's failures to save the people you both loved the most. Call it trauma bonding or codependency, but you developed an unwavering sense of loyalty towards one another.

For that reason, he already knew what you were about to ask him, and you only would because you knew he wouldn't find it in himself to refuse it.

"When it happens, please, have me be appointed as the executioner."

"Of course."

Sitting with a glass of whiskey while gazing out of the window in an understated house just by the outskirts of Sendai, Nanami couldn't say he was fulfilled, unable to grasp the concept of feeling in any way elated ever since his teenage years. However, he was definitely satisfied that this plan had worked.

He managed to put a dent into Jujutsu Society, aiding Geto — or, at least, someone that looked like him, not that Nanami truly cared about it by this point — in retrieving multiple cursed objects that would be used for their inevitable fallout.

There had been a few casualties, though.

Two students and many personnel died — or rather, met their fateful end by the edge of his blunt blade —, but some deaths should be expected if Jujutsu Society was to be brought to the ground, down to its last brick.

Ever since that fateful day when he was nothing but a tall child sitting beside the cold corpse of his best friend, Yu Haibara, Nanami had simmered what would become a cauldron of absolute venom-dripping rage against Jujutsu Society.

To hell with saving other people — what about them? What about the teenager that would never grow to be a sorcerer, who became an inanimate nothing before ever getting the chance of making something out of himself?

That face… Nanami could never forget it. It haunted his dreams, even a decade later. Such a stark contrast between the light-spirited smiles and this cold, gray monolith that laid in the morgue.

They had no right to rob their students from their youth, much less from their lives, but that's exactly what Jujutsu High did when they didn't even bother to check the mission appropriately before dispatching Haibara and Nanami to a certain death.

Nanami escaped, but just barely, by the skin of his teeth. Haibara, however, wasn't blessed with the same luck, and drew the short straw when his hitched final breaths met their end against Nanami's shoulder. Nanami, who carried his best friend on his back, desperately tried to win a losing race against death.

Help was late to arrive.

They were too late for Haibara.

And, in a sense, they were too late for him, too.

The worst part, though, was when they were finally being transported all the way back to Jujutsu High. As he glanced over Haibara’s cadaver, now covered by a body bag, one particularly insensitive assistant very rudely stated, “at least there is a body to be buried.”

At least

There is a body

To be buried

Those words echoed in his head for what felt like eternity. Was that the best they all had to hope for? To at least have remains left behind for the mourning?

In any case, that was why, even though he had to kill, Nanami never mangled any of his human victims — something not easy to do, given how his technique worked and how easy it was to split someone in half.

You had noticed this perverted benevolence while looking over the necropsy reports, a realization that just added insult to injury.

Let there be something for the funeral, I suppose, was what he told himself.

In his own twisted way, Nanami figured this was a kindness very few sorcerers received at their tragic ends, and decided he'd definitely be more compassionate than what Jujutsu High put their sorcerers through.

In his eyes, those from Jujutsu High who died under his will were the ones granted a truly merciful death.

His peace was disturbed by the sound of the entrance door being brutally kicked in, flying its way across the living room. He pulled his blunt blade from the side of his armchair with his free hand, but quickly put it down when realizing it was you that had just barged inside.

He knew you very well — well enough to be certain you wouldn't come swinging at him immediately.

"I can see you still have a temper. Destroying the door wasn’t necessary, I would've opened it for you," he stated, sipping on his drink.

"I don't care," you retorted, "I guess you already know why I'm here, in any case."

"I do. You're here to carry out my death sentence," he stated, completely unbothered, as if talking about the weather.

As if he was just mundanely stuck in his ways.

You huffed, placing your hand over your sword's handle.

"Precisely."

"We haven't spoken in a long time, why don't you take a seat?" Nanami inquired, pointing at the armchair right in front of him. "I want to finish my drink."

You glared at the curse user, as he, unfazed, kept gulping on his whiskey. Nanami was wearing a black buttoned shirt, black pants and black oxford shoes, and you couldn't help but see him as a grim reaper — this was a somber look, fitting for the equally somber man who carried it.

For a second, you took in his features — you hadn’t seen Nanami for a few years after the last time you crossed paths.

His shoulders had slightly broadened, and he still bore the same chiseled face, framed by his sand-blond hair neatly slicked back.

Nanami’s eyes traveled over you quickly, apparently doing the very same thing.

Time had left its marks. It was evident you both had grown up — and apart.

You knew this was a shit idea, but entertained it enough that you actually walked towards the chair and sat down. There were definitely things to be talked about, and you just about had a million questions for him.

Most of them, however, boiled down to what you immediately asked.

"Why did you do it?"

Nanami put his glass on the coffee table right in front of you.

"It was a necessary means to an end."

His words came with frost-bitten coldness, his voice embodying the monotone you once loved, but eventually, grew to hate.

You scoffed, incredulous at his reply, involuntarily clenching your fingers around your katana's handle as it laid on your lap.

"Necessary means to an end? Nanami, you killed teenage sorcerers!"

"As I said, and I don't like repeating myself," he interjected, "it was a necessary sacrifice for a greater cause."

"You're such a hypocritical, self-righteous ass!"

Nanami sighed, clearly displeased.

"We have always been able to keep some semblance of respect for each other, despite our… differences. Do not use that foul language with me."

You laughed bitterly, no amusement or fun in your voice as you did.

"Do you think I can still have an ounce of respect for you after what you did? You murdered my people! They were all sorcerers. You killed students, Nanami! Jujutsu High's students! Just like Haibara once was!"

He shot his eyes at you, and the aura of his cursed energy grew sinister at your words.

"Don't say his name."

Yu Haibara, arguably the glue that kept the trio together. You were hot headed, Nanami was intransigent, and Yu was the conciliatory ray of sunshine that kept you two — but you, particularly — from constant quarreling as classmates nearly every day.

But back then, you'd argue with Nanami with love.

This wasn't the case now.

Not entirely, at least.

"He was my best friend too, the three of us were! Do you really think this is what he would've wanted?!" you questioned him, equal parts hurt and enraged.

"I'm not one to ponder on could've or would've been's. Haibara is gone."

"I'm not a would've been!"

You could still remember it. The day you realized why dealing with Nanami and hearing his sharp comebacks riled you up so intensely.

You finally understood you were in love with him.

Ever since the first day you met Nanami, you envied the way he'd be able to keep his feelings in check when you constantly felt like falling apart. You felt jealous at how he was considered a greatly competent individual, regarded by all as the best of your class, while you were basically viewed as a ticking bomb nearing explosion. And finally, it made you livid the way how everyone treated him like the informal leader of the trio when the three of you were out on a mission together.

However, those were the same things that got you to admire your friend and, eventually, fall in love for him.

That day, you asked Nanami to meet you outside after class by himself — much to Haibara's dismay —, because you had something to tell him. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and the unforgiving sun of summer was already setting, casting an orange glow through the leaves of the tree you were both under.

After confessing your feelings for him and bracing yourself for being shot down, because why the hell would Nanami Kento, the brilliant, competent, and mature second-year, have any interest in the chaotic, hot headed mess you were, you realized he actually looked surprised. After taking a few moments to collect himself, Nanami told you how he had thought you actually hated him.

At last, somewhat nervous — but definitely intent on not letting it show —, he confided he had affectionate feelings towards you as well.

Your first kiss was awkward, as it would be expected out of two inexperienced people such as you and Nanami were at that age, but it carried the sweet taste of a blue spring marked by teenage years' innocence.

It felt like a promise.

Unfortunately, such promise was unmercifully cut short the very next day, when Nanami and Haibara were dispatched to their life-changing mission.

What an irony it was that, in the end, you were the one to actually mature over Haibara's death, growing up to be an upstanding sorcerer, loved and admired by peers and students alike, and Nanami was the bomb to blow up in everybody's faces.

What a cruel irony.

"I was there too, and I'm still here, having to pick up the pieces of what you deliberately destroyed!" you rasped, angrily.

"You weren't a 'would've been'? Where were you when we needed you? When I needed you?" his voice didn't conceal the tinge of hurt that those questions carried.

What a fucking low blow.

"Nanami, that's not fair. There wasn't anything I could've done in that situation, and you know that!"

You blamed yourself for a while for not going on that mission with them, until you realized that you too would probably have died if you were there. From the three, Nanami was the only one strong and fast enough to pull off an escape like he did.

He diverted his gaze back to the window.

"You were the one to bring up hypothetical scenarios. Let's indulge in them for a minute, shall we?"

Nanami glanced back at you, and his next words brimmed with bitter resentment, even if his voice sounded more calm and collected than ever.

"You see someone you supposedly love slowly sinking into darkness. What do you do?"

"Don't you dare, you condescending prick! I asked you so many fucking times what was going on. You were the one who shut me out!"

Your voice carried a decade-old pain that resonated from the depths of your soul.

It came from all the times you entered his dorm room with his favorite sandwich after he had cooped up in there for days on end, and he didn't even bother to eat it. Every time you asked him to talk to you, said you were there for him, and was met by a vacant stare.

And, at last, the time when he cruelly blamed you for not being there when Haibara died.

The way he coldly told you about Haibara's last words.

According to Nanami, Haibara said he wanted to speak to you one last time, at least to bid you farewell.

And you weren't there.

Oh, the viciousness with which he blamed you, and decided you owed him something for this perceived failure.

The next time Nanami talked to you, he asked you to leave Jujutsu High with him, just like Geto did, and swore to destroy them. You tried, pleaded, implored for him to reconsider and stay, but the very following day, you were met by an empty room where the person you once loved used to be.

That emptiness had, paradoxically, filled you wholly with grief.

Gojo once told you that nobody could save someone who didn't want to be saved.

You still thought you should've tried harder, in a childish attempt at giving yourself an illusory semblance of control over that clusterfuck of a situation.

This is the gap inside our psyche that feeling guilty tries to fill, isn't it?

We can only feel guilty about the things we could've changed, right?

Your voice sounded decades older than yourself, burdening the weight of multiple lifetimes of hurt and grief. Your soul was too old for your own good.

"How can you find it in yourself to blame me for this?! No… This is a prison of your own making. You built the house of cards that is tumbling down on your head as we speak entirely by yourself."

He huffed intensely through his nostrils — Nanami’s version of a snort —, looking the other way before proceeding, each syllable hitting you with the deadly precision of his cursed technique.

"You abandoned us, leaving me and Haibara to fend for ourselves, just like Jujutsu Society did."

By that point, you began yelling, and your voice reverberated all across the room.

"The hell I did!"

You had to take a deep breath before proceeding.

"I just couldn't get behind this dumb idea that we should become curse users and bring down Jujutsu Society."

"Why didn't you come with me?" he finally asked, in an amalgam of pain, sadness, longing, anger, and stinging resentment. "I would have followed you to the deepest recesses of hell if you asked me to."

You huffed, laughing angrily in between your teeth, before thrusting your words like thorns against him.

"Funny you should say that. You'd go anywhere for me? How about staying? Why couldn't you have stayed for me, then?!"

Perhaps that request was egotistical, but you didn't care. If only for a moment, you wanted to give yourself this small privilege — to want in a world of duty.

"I was the one actually left to fend for myself, right inside the belly of the beast, and you couldn't have cared less."

He stared at you, nothing in his eyes other than the void left behind after his spirit got killed with his best friend so many years ago.

"I didn't stay because… Because," Nanami stated, with a grave finality, "and you're the one who chose to stay. You're still actively choosing to, just like you did back then."

"That's not a good enough answer," you replied with a bad taste in your mouth.

"It's what you've earned," he coldly replied, "but in case you change your mind-"

"Enough," you interrupted him, incredulous that even after everything, this man had the nerve of suggesting you'd ever be interested in running away with him. "It appalls me you would even consider I could… After what you've done? No, never."

Nanami sighed, and for a brief moment, seemed to be actually disappointed under his resigned, polished visage.

"Well, then. Let's get this over with, at once."

In a split second, you pushed your chair on the ground, falling on your shoulders and rolling on your back, dodging his lightning-fast attack. It left a crater behind, right where you were seconds before. Nanami jumped over the fallen armchair, and you dodged him once again, spinning on your heels, unsheathing your sword as you did so, to deal a beheading blow on the back of his neck.

However, right before impact, you faltered, slowing down your movement.

Your own body held you back from taking his life.

He didn't seem to notice.

Nanami bent down just in time to avoid the blow, and swung his blunt blade towards your kneecap. You were quick on your feet, and jumped back, putting a good distance between the both of you.

"I can see you're actually fighting to kill," he noted, getting up on his feet.

"Of course. That's what I came here to do," you spat in his direction.

"You were never the practical one."

You scoffed.

"Guess I learned something from you."

He smiled at the irony of that, but his eyes didn't follow his expression.

Nanami lunged at you, but while you thought he'd deal his next blow in your direction, he hit your footing, having you fall on the ground. Abruptly, his blunt blade descended in your direction, but you were able to catch it and have it slip to your side using your katana supported by your hand behind it, sending a sharp, loud sound around the vicinity, trembling against the bones and flesh of the house.

You rolled on your side when he struck a new hit in your direction, leaving another gaping hole on the floor, and you jumped yourself up.

Before you could attack him, however, he took you by surprise, and you lifted your sword to defend yourself. Nanami hit your katana with his blunt blade, breaking it near where the handle and the steel met, launching your body back on the wall.

The impact knocked the air out of your lungs, and you fell to your knees, unable to recover yourself as you got up. Instantly, you heard his quick, steady steps sprinting their way in your direction.

You were cornered.

This is it.

You braced yourself for the impact, closing your eyes. You remembered his technique perfectly.

Precise, just as he was.

Deadly, just as he was, too.

You were to die at the hands of the man you loved, who had become a murderer and only a distorted, broken version of whom you used to truly love.

This seemed like an oddly cruel way to go.

However, the impact never came.

His blunt blade stopped as it was about to hit your stomach, and you opened your eyes, just to see his face mere inches apart from yours. His mountainous form blocked your view from anything else behind him, and Nanami, at that moment, actually looked like the menace he truly was.

“Why were you appointed as my executioner?” Nanami asked, much to your surprise.

“I asked to be,” you answered, holding his gaze as something went through his eyes. A hint of anger, most likely, and some sense of betrayal, certainly.

“So, you want to kill someone you once loved? You were always prone to self-penitence, so it stands to reason you’d do something idiotic like that.”

You scoffed, grimacing at him, feeling your entire body incandescent with rage.

“I fucking hate you, Nanami.”

He inched his face even closer, brushing your noses against one another, eyes stone-cold and hauntingly vacant.

“I hate you as well.”

For a moment, you wondered if he had really stopped his blade before impact. You didn't expect it, but hearing those words felt like you just had been hit, victim of a blunt trauma, at how much they tore you apart.

The same blunt trauma that severed the Nanami you once knew — the teenager with bangs, who'd always be carrying around a few spare changes to get soda cans from the vending machine for you and Haibara, in his own understated kindness — and this empty monster looking back at you.

"Good. Finish me off, then, and get your revenge for a crime I never committed. Being unfair and an all-around self-centered asshole certainly suits you, fucker."

His hand made its way up your neck, and you were pressed against the wall. The grip was firm, but not enough to choke you — it came more as a warning than anything else.

"I already told you to stop using that foul language with me," he ordered, low voice simmering with genuine irritation.

"Then make me," you challenged him, hoping for this torture to be over as fast as possible.

Just fucking kill me already.

His blunt blade fell with a thud on the floor, and you were confused for a moment, wondering if he really wouldn't give you the kindness of a quick demise. Did he plan on choking you to death?

Did he hate you that much?

His other hand came up, but before you could do anything to try to resist — which would be nothing but a futile attempt at survival, given that Nanami was physically much stronger than you —, his fingers snaked their way through the back of your hair, tugging it at the roots.

His mouth clashed against yours, all teeth, tongue, anger, and hunger, and instantly every nerve in your body flared up with a raging fiery ember you hadn't felt in years. All the pent-up resentment, hurt, and desire you had for Nanami swirled together in your gut, guiding your hands up his hair, as you also pulled on it intently, robbing him of a gasp.

You intertwined your tongue against his, and he unceremoniously bullied his own inside your mouth, leaving no crevice unexplored, as his hand on your neck descended towards your waist, where he clenched his fingers with a vicious grip. You whimpered against his lips, and he grunted in return, pushing his body on yours. His throbbing growing cock could be felt, even through both of your clothes, as he pressed it right against the edge of your pants.

When you finally parted after what seemed like a not-long-enough eternity, you huffed and panted, and albeit less than you, he was panting too.

"I fucking… hate you…" you gnarled, glaring into his eyes. The hazel-brown gaze you once adored was now clouded and dark, like the muddy waters of a deep lake.

"Shut the fuck up," Nanami groaned back, strongly cupping your cunt with his large hand. You whimpered in surprise, and he pulled you in harshly for another kiss, letting go of your hair and sex to sink his fingers on the backside of your thighs, pulling them. You immediately jumped up and threw your arms around his shoulders, as he manhandled your legs to have them hooked around him.

He quickly took you both inside the room, and tossed you on the bed, having you gasping in surprise. Before you could catch your breath, he climbed his way on top of you, pressing your body down, and clashed his mouth against yours again, making you actually lightheaded from a lack of air.

You pushed against his chest, grunting uneasy, and surprisingly, he parted his lips from yours.

"What?"

You panted heavily, nearly hyperventilating, and mindlessly rested your hand on his cheek.

"C-can't breathe…" was all you mustered up to say, trying to replenish oxygen back into your system.

His eyes softened so discreetly you nearly missed it, and his cold-ivory enclosure slightly cracked under the affectionate touch he didn't expect.

Nanami had no idea how much he had craved it ever since you parted ways, and hated himself, just a little, for how much such an innocuous gesture stirred his old feelings up, throwing his heart against his chest in a fluttering rush.

I should be over her by now, dammit.

Nanami also brought his hand up your face, and ghosted over your cheek for a second before sliding his fingers delicately down over it.

You also weren't prepared for that, and your chest tightened all over your heavy heart as you remembered your first kiss.

The way he'd cup your face in his hands.

So delicate, so lovely.

This touch, at this very moment, felt like a painful reminder of everything you had lost.

"Kento…" you cooed, voice strained in your throat, with all the things you were sure you'd never say.

He hummed your name in return, and kissed you while sinking your body against the mattress. This kiss was different, as his lips brushed gently over yours, and his tongue tenderly teased over the seam of your mouth. You welcomed him in, and you both explored these deep waters tentatively, as he upped the intensity after each stroke of your tongues against each other.

He tasted like whiskey, and bread, and the tainted love left behind as nothing but a reminiscence of less grueling days. You couldn't help but feel robbed by him.

You both had been missing out on this for all these fucking years.

"Why did you have to go?" you asked, pulling back from him, a tinge of anger to your cadence, and another of pain in your face.

"Why did you have to stay?" he spat back at you, equal parts saddened and resentful.

His mouth made its way to your neck, and you gasped with the sensation of his warm breath mingled with saliva against your skin, as he licked and bit his way around.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to push him away, and your eyes burned with the prickling sensation of tears that wouldn’t come. You were starved for his touch, his smell, his body, even if this was the murderer of your students, of your friends.

In your head, you felt like digging a hole and throwing yourself in it, to wallow in the misery of realizing that you were about to fuck the murderer of people you loved, and that it felt good.

A pool of heat and fire shot down your insides as your heartbeats throbbed in between your legs.

You hated yourself, and on top of it all, hated Nanami.

Hated that you couldn't help but still love him, even after all he had done.

This was the setting tension in between the both of you, the two extremes of hate and love pulling against each other, all while the tug of war rope refused to snap to either side.

He pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it aside, and you undid his shirt, unzipping his pants. He unzipped you too, and quickly enough, took off your pants along with your panties with a single sharp tug.

Back to rough, but not entirely, it seemed.

His hand glided against your thigh and his fingertips slipped over your entrance, getting completely glazed by your already dripping arousal. He grunted, a guttural and intense sound deep in his chest, giving you another bite on the soft skin of your neck.

"Hate me?" Nanami asked, teasing his digits over your cunt, "doesn't seem like it."

You managed to scoff at him, which would prove to be a mistake.

"Go fuck yours-"

Before you could finish your sentence, he dove two of his fingers inside knuckle-deep, without any hint of a warning, forcefully stretching your walls around them. You immediately let out a whimper so pitiful you wondered if that was really your voice.

He seemed satisfied at that. Perhaps, even elated.

"Good girl," Nanami whispered right beside your ear, nibbling against your earlobe with his teeth, sending shivers down your spine. He began sliding his fingers in and out, and you bucked down against his hand while moaning and mewling, walls sheathing his digits as he finger-fucked your cunt, neglecting your clit as punishment for calling him a condescending prick earlier.

His palm rucked against your dripping folds, echoing wet slaps all throughout the room, as your arousal kept pooling on his palm.

He mumbled softly against your skin, bringing his mouth up to brush against yours, "hate… you still love me."

You instantly drew one of your hands to slap him in the face for this hurtful teasing, but he had quick reflexes — quicker than yours. He dodged himself back as your hand hit the empty sheets, and edged his fingers to hit against your soft spot, pressing it so violently, you let out a strained cry from the shooting overstimulation pain.

"Ah- Shit!" you shouted, face all scrunched up.

"Can't you behave for once?" he chided, "why is it so hard for you to j-just-“

Nanami’s breath hitched in his throat as he grunted, unable to finish his sentence.

You shut him up the only way you could think — grabbing his cock harshly over his boxers. It was extremely effective, and he immediately humped his length against your hand, while lowly groaning.

With trembling hands and a violent snap, you haphazardly pulled his boxers down to his mid-thighs, as his fingers kept mercilessly bullying their way inside you, sending vibrating waves all throughout your body with every thrust.

“Stop… telling me… ah-aaah-“ you rolled your eyes back with a loud moan, struggling to keep a train of coherent thought, gnarling your next words, “what to… ah- do!”

His cock sprang out, slapping against his belly. The tip was already flustered red, leaking with pre-cum, and had a long, prominent vein on the underside.

To punish him back for the roughness, you grabbed his length with one hand, and with the other, pressed the middle of your palm against his flushed tip, glistening his arousal around it with enough force to jump across the divide between intense pleasure and painful overstimulation.

Nanami cursed with a feral voice through his teeth, immediately biting the side muscles of your neck with no semblance of restraint, making sure to leave a purple remnant of pain etched on your skin.

“Ah- ouch! Fuck!” you spat out, tightening your grip around his cock, but weakened enough to release the tight pressure against his tip, letting him fuck into your hand. His hips bucked erratically, and his lips pressed a quick kiss right where he had previously bitten.

He couldn't help it.

Suddenly, Nanami stopped his rutting fingers to press his thumb against your already throbbing clit. That instantly had you seeing stars as you cursed loudly in between moans and grunts, drawing your free hand to his head, ferociously tugging at his hair, as heat pooled in your lower abdomen like fiery embers of coal.

He grabbed your arm, pulling it away from his shaft, and removed his fingers from your walls, having them clenching around nothing at such a sudden emptiness. You began complaining, only to have your voice cut short by his tongue slipping its way inside your mouth, in a sloppy, wet kiss.

Parting from you, Nanami’s eyes were glassy, and you were absolutely sure your gaze must’ve looked just as hazy as his.

In a brief moment, before you realized it, he slid himself down, and unceremoniously lapped at your already sensitive clit with his warm tongue, hot breath tickling against your sensitive skin.

Both of your hands descended towards his hair, brushing over his golden and now messy locks more tenderly than you expected. Nanami suddenly shivered and moaned into your cunt, edging his tongue down your folds and back, eyes fluttering shut the moment he tasted you entirely.

He felt a tinge of pain clench at his chest, realizing this was the taste he had missed out on for all that time — your taste, which would surely ruin him forever.

Nanami’s pain, however, was quick to turn into outrage, as he began sucking on your clit relentlessly, eliciting the most animalistic sounds you had ever uttered.

You instinctively tried backing away, and he pulled on your thighs, holding them with such a violent force that his hand was sure to leave an engraving of his digits over your plush skin.

Nanami was intent on dragging this orgasm out of you by any means necessary.

You had never given him anything he wanted from you — be it the company to fight against Jujutsu High or the same unwavering loyalty he had for you. So this was something he’d take.

If you wouldn’t be by his side, then the least you could do was to cum for him so fervently, he’d be sure to ruin you just as much as he felt like you had ruined him. You owed him that, or so Nanami thought.

“Aaah-- Kento! S-slow d-… fuck!”

You came with a thunderous shout, jolting your hip forward as your thighs tightened with inhuman strength to the sides of his head. Nanami made sure to deliciously lick your way down from your high, applying such a precise and perfect pressure on your clit that you could’ve wept from sheer satisfaction.

After your legs went limp, he slowly climbed his way back to you, pressing kisses all over your body, leaving a ghost of heat wherever his mouth traveled. When Nanami finally reached your face, he put his forearms against your sides, hands over your shoulders, caging you in, as he pressed his mouth against yours in a slow kiss.

You were floating in a calm sea, salty waves caressing your body every time they passed through, and it felt cozy. Inviting, even. As he parted his lips from yours, Nanami gazed into your eyes in the way he used to.

For a second, you got catapulted into the past, and the orange sun that warmed your cheeks through the leaves as you kissed for the first time seemed to shine its rays over again.

With his arms around you, the nonsensical feeling of being protected washed over your heart.

“Come with me,” he whispered with a sultry, husky voice.

“Kento…” you cooed, sighing, wanting nothing more than for this moment to extend for infinity.

But it couldn’t.

You didn’t go with him, so many years ago.

And wouldn’t go now, either.

That wasn’t how it worked for the both of you.

Nanami understood it, and what seemed like another crack against his unwavering walls had formed the moment his brows furrowed above his eyes.

“Fine, then,” he said, with a tinge of genuine hurt to his voice.

You parted your thighs to accommodate his hips, and he obliged, guiding his hand down to align his cock against your entrance. You bent and hooked your legs around him, pulling him in, and as the tip of his length got pressed against your dripping cunt, he gasped slightly over your lips.

Nanami sunk in slowly, going through your already relaxed ring. However, it apparently wasn’t relaxed enough, or perhaps he was just too big, because you could feel every inch of stretching his cock made against your walls as he slowly bottomed out inside your cunt.

His mouth fell open and you exhaled a moan into it, breaths mingling together. You two drank each other in. Nanami pressed his forehead against yours, and you both held each other’s gaze, as he pulled your left wrist above your head, holding it there, pushing you down the mattress by your waist with his other hand.

After a moment for you to take him in, Nanami began rolling his hips into you, while his hand kept bruisingly pressing your wrist against the mattress. You could feel his balancing act of trying to love you and wanting to hurt you at the same time.

You weren’t so different from him in that sense, though. Your nails got dragged down his back with abrasive force, and for a second, you considered drawing blood from him. He grunted, and you saw the spark of cold-hearted anger flash through his now dimmed eyes.

You both wanted to love each other just as much as you wanted to hurt each other.

In a more forgiving universe, perhaps, he’d hold your hand tenderly, intertwining his fingers in yours. Maybe you two would be in the kitchen as he showed you one of his favorite bread recipes, and share quiet moments of understanding companionship when remembering those who had left this world too soon.

But this wasn’t that universe, unfortunately.

He was to die, and you were to carry out his execution.

Except you couldn’t, because even if you still tried to cling on to any sliver of morals, even if his life was something yours alone to take, the mere thought of a world without Nanami was far worse than the reality of a world in which he was a murderer.

You insisted on fighting a losing game, and much to no one’s surprise, you lost.

Good riddance to me, I suppose.

His grunts came hitched and stuttered against your mouth as he was now rutting himself into you, biting your lower lip hard enough to almost pierce the skin with his teeth. You moaned loudly, dragged around with pain and pleasure, the combo that seemed to summarize the gist of your relationship.

He let go of your wrist and descended his hand without a warning towards your already overworked clit, glazing his thumb against the ring of arousal you were leaving around him before starting to make circles around your nub. Your moans came out cracked and faltering, as you tried to resist the instinctive urge of fleeing that the overstimulation was eliciting.

“Give me… one more,” Nanami groaned lowly against your cheek, planting multiple kisses down the side of your face and your chin. His hair — which had already fallen from its usual slick arrangement — brushed against your fluttering eyelids, momentarily weaving golden sand colors over your your vision, and you drove both your hands to the back of his head, pulling him in for another kiss.

You could kiss him like this forever.

You actually wanted to, at that moment.

To his request, you nodded, and this was probably the first time you acquiesced to any request Nanami had ever made to you.

Fulfilled, his thrusts and his finger over your clit became increasingly erratic, as he was now moaning your name against your mouth. You pushed your tongue over his, sliding your hands up his head to tug at his roots, and that was all it took to tip him over the edge.

Nanami came with a muffled groan, having your tongue still pushed inside his mouth, and kept pumping himself inside you trying to keep the comedown at bay. His thick, white cum got glazed all over inside you, and the slaps of flesh and skin began sounding ever more wet than they already were.

You weren’t so far off, with your walls fluttering around him, and he noticed it, keeping his now trembling thumb pressed and circling intently over your clit. With one perfectly applied nudge on your sensitive bud, Nanami finally pulled you over the edge along with him.

Some tears began pooling on the edges of your lashes, and all your emotions — anger, sadness, grief, longing, and a particular brand of despair you cultivated during the last decade — came crashing down as he wrenched your second orgasm from you.

Your body convulsed under him, fluttering walls expelling his softening cock out, as you shouted and grunted into his mouth. You didn’t know if you were more furious at yourself for still loving him, at him for loving you, or at Jujutsu Society for jumbling you both like pawns to be tossed around until you two were broken beyond repair.

Angry at them for sending the young out to have their spirits crushed too soon. For all the deaths no one got to mourn because there was too much work, too little time, and the wounded were always left behind to fend for themselves.

Just like you were.

And just like Nanami was.

You sat at the edge of the bed while putting your shirt back on, and looked back at Nanami, who had his buttoned shirt open over his chest.

“Are you still resolute on your decision of not coming with me?” Nanami asked, with a tinge of eagerness. Or maybe it was just your imagination.

You pondered for a moment, and knew exactly what the answer to that question was.

“Yes. I’m not coming with you.”

For a second, you caught the faintest glimpse of the person he used to be. Something aching to genuine disappointment.

The longing that flashed through him, unfortunately, was quick to go, as he began buttoning his shirt down, averting his gaze elsewhere.

“Why?”

“Because I’d hate myself for the rest of my life if I did,” you stated, sighing before continuing, “and it’s not because I can’t kill you or because I love you that I don’t despise you. You crossed an uncrossable line.”

He pursed his lips, and almost felt regretful for the path he chose.

Almost, since regret now would come ten years too late.

“You can’t go back. They will know you let me go,” Nanami remarked. Be it from him or from looking around this house, Jujutsu High would surely hold you accountable for this — for willingly letting the curse user and murderer, Nanami Kento, escape their wrath.

“I know that,” you replied, a tad bit more defeated than you expected, “that’s why I’m fleeing to Hokkaido.”

He sighed and looked at you. You held his gaze, feeling a little hint of anxiety at what he seemed to be simmering under the surface.

With a warmer expression — or as warm as he could muster it up to be —, Nanami spoke again.

“I truly want you to come with me. You’d be safer. We’d… be by each other’s side.”

For a moment, you faltered, open lips with no sound coming out of them. Blinking yourself back to Earth, you asked, “you mean together?”

Nanami kept silent, but nodded, waiting for your response.

He wasn’t just asking for you to come with him, but to be with him.

You wanted to. You did. Something Nanami never knew was just how much you wanted to follow him when he asked you the same thing, so many years ago.

But even though you wholeheartedly loved him with every minute part of your being, your loyalty lied elsewhere.

Not with him, but with the people he had killed.

Well, at least that was the comfortable lie you were capable of living with.

It would destroy you to realize the loyalty you had for the murderer of the people you loved.

In the end, even if you weren’t a teenager anymore, you were just as much a hostage to your feelings as you had always been.

The ticking took a long time, but the bomb eventually went off.

With a decade’s old delay.

“I… just can’t. I can’t.”

Nanami reclined himself against the wall over which the bed rested, closing his eyes as he supported the back of his head on it.

He never told you, but this moment broke his heart all over again.

He felt pathetically small.

Guess we get what we deserve, after all.

“You really do have a taste for penitence,” Nanami noted, his voice barely concealing the bitterness that tainted those words.

You scoffed, getting up on your feet, ready to leave as the first rays of sunshine began bleeding through the thick curtains that covered the bedroom’s window.

“Go to hell.”

He chuckled, a sound you hadn’t heard in a very long time. However, it sounded off-key. Wrong.

Sad.

“We’re already here.”

At the end of it all, he wasn’t wrong.

You were doomed to always keep leaving each other.

If only the world had been a little kinder.

But kindness, it seemed, wasn’t in the cards for you.

End notes: I’m silently screaming. Oh my, this one took way longer than expected, but I enjoyed the writing process during every step of the way (I mean, if that wasn’t evident already from the fact that I made a playlist for this 😂). I forgot how much I was a sucker for gut wrenching angst. Hope you enjoyed it too! 🦉

Tag list: @actuallysaiyan @diogodxlot @jadedjane @redlikerozez @voiceless9000

@marvelousfanfictionbitch @kentocalls @ohhheymessa @magical-girl-b @simp-manhwa

@codenamesongbird

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txmxkis · 4 months ago

Text

i'm only really me when i'm here with you

pairing. boothill x gn!reader

genre. hurt/comfort

wc. 1.5k+

summary. you're determined to help boothill heal from his trauma by... doing his hair?

warnings. i took liberties with this, who knows what specific parts he actually has left or whether he can blush or not (in my heart he can lol), mention of boothill picking u up but i mean. he’s literally so strong he could handle anything, i made him soooo sad and it’s possibly wildly out of character, selfship coded as usual rip

a/n. continuing the tradition of using lyrics from songs on selfship playlists for fic titles lol. based on my tags on this post

they say that trauma is stored in the body, and while boothill didn't necessarily have a complete body anymore, this was still something that you thought about frequently when it came to his physical form.

regardless of just how much of his original self remained, there was still enough of him left that you were sure it had to be true in some capacity. after all, he retained his head and his heart—at least you were fairly certain—two of the most vital components of human anatomy.

it was so hard to read him. the real him. he tried so hard to always act confident and cool. actually, he didn't even really have to try or act. it seemed as if it came to him naturally and endlessly. there was a perpetual air of optimism surrounding him that was difficult to dim even on his most wearisome days.

even after experiencing whatever horrors he had to face from mission to mission, when he came home, the door to whatever room you were currently in would fling open—sometimes scaring you half to death—and he would greet you so happily that it felt as if there were no terrible things in the universe whatsoever.

you cherished his mannerisms, especially because you could be a pessimistic sort of person. rather frequently, in fact. you loved having him near you, able to draw laughter from you, however unwillingly it might be on your part at times. he was oddly skilled at making you feel assured and comfortable, in a way that nothing and no one had ever done before. you couldn’t seem to remember how you ever lived without his encouragement, and you didn’t think you could ever feel truly whole without it again.

there really was no accounting for his relentlessly positive attitude. given what he'd seen and endured, you thought it was damn near impossible to be as carefree as he seemed to be. at any rate, he did manage it. however, there were times, moments he rarely ever allowed you to witness, in which his façade would falter slightly and betray just how heavily the past weighed on him.

occasionally, you would catch him staring at his reflection, a downcast expression painting his beautiful features. every time you spoke of your family, you could detect glimpses of sadness in his eyes, albeit hidden behind a smile. once you even caught him crying as silently as he could—you assumed so as not to alert you—his shoulders sagging under an unforeseen weight, a look on his face that you could only describe as heartbroken. your own heart broke with his in that moment.

you always tried to be particularly attentive following those moments, but it was so difficult to get him to open up to you. he just wanted you to be happy. to not bother worrying about him. you had your own problems, after all, and there was no need for him to add to your burden. no need for him to ask for your pity.

he knew you cared for him deeply enough that it would cause you pain, and even if it was only a fragment of the grief that he lived with every day, he was sure that he would feel terribly and incessantly guilty about it. if he could remove every single aspect of your life that caused you suffering, he would do it in a heartbeat, and he could say that because it was one of the few original parts he had left. how could he add to that suffering by forcing you to imagine all the horrors from his own life?

it took so much time and effort on your part to convince him to open the door to himself, if even just a tiny crack. he was still extremely careful with his words and the details that he disclosed to you—he didn't want to overwhelm you, and he certainly didn't want to hurt you. in reality, these conversations, painful as they were for you to hear, actually helped you to feel as though you could comfort him more effectively.

yes, it hurt immensely to know even a small fraction of how much anguish he had experienced. yes, you despised the people who had done this to him and wanted to fight them yourself, in fact. yes, your chest felt tight with ache and sadness on his behalf. still, you could help him more by knowing than by not knowing.

eventually, you were able to make it this far, brushing through his hair as gently as your hands could manage. he had confessed to you in one of his more vulnerable moments that the white shock of hair on his head often served as a stark reminder of worse times, of the trauma and stress inflicted on his body. the admission gave you an idea, one that made boothill feel more than just a little bit exposed. he wasn’t accustomed to being looked after like this, with so much affection and love.

you began to make a routine out of it. every day you would do something with his hair—whether it was braiding it and tying it up intricately to make him feel pretty or simply combing through the strands and allowing them to cascade around his shoulders and down his back.

sometimes you would sit him in front of a mirror while you worked so that he could see exactly what you were doing in the moment. he didn’t quite understand how it all came together, but he found it fascinating to see how you twisted and weaved. at times, you were so focused on the hair in your hands that your brows would furrow, tongue poking out slightly between your lips. in the reflection, you genuinely looked like you were enjoying yourself.

even more noticeable to him was the expression you wore when you looked at him through the mirror. your gaze was so full of tenderness that his chest ached. he could swear that his heart actually skipped a beat. whenever that happened, you could see a flaring blush creep up his cheeks and into his ears, and you couldn’t help but laugh just a little bit at how endearing it was.

other times, you would settle on the couch, with him seated on the floor between your legs, adorning his hair with the cutest accessories, the two of you laughing and joking the whole time. you would delicately twist the locks back, securing them with pretty, multicolored clips that shone in the light.

when you were done, you would lead him slowly to a mirror, hands over his eyes, nearly stumbling over his legs as you walked behind him. you would pull your hands quickly from his face, revealing your handiwork, beaming with pride and grinning at how adorable he looked. he loved every minute of it—and every bit of you, he would think to himself as he turned to pick you up and spin you around, laughing in that deep voice of his. then he’d set you down gently, thanking you for your hard work with kisses sprinkled across your face.

days that were particularly trying for him would simply be spent in comfortable silence. when he didn’t feel like talking from the pain of it all, he would wordlessly lay his head on your chest as you ran your fingers through his long locks. feeling your touch—the slight pull on his scalp, the tickle of shifting hair—it all made him feel so relaxed that he could melt right into your skin until you absorbed him fully into you. often, the combination of this and the gentle, steady beat of your heart would lull him to sleep, and seeing his expression ease and soften in these moments was all the reward you ever needed.

in the beginning, it was unclear whether this dedicated time spent caring for his hair was helping or not. over time, however, you noticed a glimmer in his eyes—something that told you he would be alright, despite everything.

pain still remained; it always would, but instead of constantly gazing at his reflection with grief, every once in a while you would catch a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. it was as if he was remembering how you hummed while placing those clips, or how he had teasingly whipped you with his hair on a more playful occasion, or any number of positive memories that you had put so much effort into lovingly crafting with him.

you were determined to do your best, slowly but surely, to lighten his burden—or at least help carry it. there was no reason for him to feel alone when he had you by his side. and if creating these happy memories was what you had to do in order to help him, well, you would gladly continue forever.

reblogs & interactions are appreciated! thank you for reading! <3 — txmxkis

#boothill x reader #boothill angst #boothill fluff #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #honkai star rail angst #honkai star rail fluff #hsr angst #hsr fluff #honkai star rail imagines #hsr imagines #x reader #reader insert #i just love him okay #i am running away now JWNEJDJWKDKSK #₊˚⊹⋆˚☂︎ rini writes.ᐟ ₊˚⊹⋆˚

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thereaperisabitch · 1 year ago

Text

My Joel Miller fics recs from 2023

I’ve planned to do this since before Christmas, but life caught me up, so that's why I'm here rushing to finishing this before the reveillon party. 2023 was a very tough year for me, in different ways, and this stories were my refuge and my balm during good times and bad times, so this was the way I found to honor all these incredible authors who made my life better this year.

To the authors: you guys are the most amazing and sweet people ever, I know that I'm not active as other readers and I don't reblog your works enough - and I'm sorry for that, I wish I could shower you with the praises you guys deserve.

Hope this will make up for all the comments and reblogs that I haven't give.

And to the readers who find this recs: most of these stories are series and most of them has age gap and are Joel Miller x fem/afab!reader. I won't put warnings from each fic because it would be a too long post, so click the link and read the author's warnings in each before you start to read - I'm afraid to get into fandoms because of people who give shit to authors, so please, don't be this kind of person.

Someday I'll make a part 2 of other stories that caught me up this year.

That all being said, thank you @morning-star-joy @hier--soir @frannyzooey @joelsgreys @fuckyeahdindjarin @the-ginger-hedge-witch @eupheme @bageldaddy @covetyou @theidiotwhowritesthings @atinylittlepain @imtryingmybeskar @ezrasbirdie

A stranger's heart without a home (complete)

Summary: A one night stand that later becomes a secret affair – or masterpiece of literature – all the poets and great writers ran so Doni could walk.

This is my favorite fic of all times, forever! I read and re-read it so much that I can’t even count how many times I’ve had read it, it’s my 100% comfort fic. Enemies to lovers is my favorite trope, and the way @morning-star-joy developed here it’s perfection in the most pure way.

It’s Joel on his Jackson era and it’s a perfect character development from both sides, how to people who prefer to deal things on their own learn to rely on someone else.

I also highly recommend But you know the killer doesn't understand, which it’s on-going Joel x fem! Reader also post-Outbreak in Jackson, but it’s different and addicting as ASHWAH.

A Lover’s Pinch (on-going)

Summary: a one night stand (do I have a pattern?) at the bar turns to be so much more when you discover that your fling it’s your professor at university.

The professor x student trope might be cliché for some, and by the very brief summary that I wrote above may sound like Pretty Little Liars, but @hier--soir works with those elements and creates something beyond amazing, it is like contemplate a work of art at a museum, but much better.

I’m very much obsessed with this story, that’s why I reread it with more and more frequency.

Can’t even mention the references in this story – it’s truly enriching, it makes all better, truly.

Plus: the playlist it’s amazing!!!!

Short Days, Long Nights (on-going)

Summary: Remnants of a band travelers, you and Joel find a cabin in the woods - what would be the problem with staying?

I’m crazy about this one, it’s my true love and it had 3 or 4 chapters when I started and now we’re heading to chapter 17, blessed be @frannyzooey for sustaining us with this preciosity for so long.

I'm a sucker for when there's one character (Joel) reluctant for his feelings, and if the story was only about this, I would be perfectly glad too with, too. BUT Kelli it's a genius, an amazing writer, giving me all that I didn't even knew I wanted.

It's fluff, with smut from the highest quality - with some tense moments, wich turns everything more addicting.

A Safe Haven (on-going)

Summary: Joel's quickly drawn to the vet of Jackson - even knowing she's married. Will this affair thrive? Or there's more underneath of the vet's story? (Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry for this lame summary, but I refuse to copy from your masterlist and I’m also rushing to finishing this rec today).

I was bought on the infidelity trope and the drama that comes with it. It would still be a nice story, but @joelsgreys it’s so much fucking talented that she wrote the most beautiful thing ever!

It has tooth roting fluff, drenching panties smut and heartstopping angst! All perfectly written and balanced.

I also love how Ellie it's also a crucial character for the couple's history and I really adore how she's attached to Peach.

Special mention to Fall Into Temptation and Strawberry, that lived rent free in my mind since I've read those.

Seams (on-going)

Summary: Joel pays visit to Jackson's seamstress after a trouble with his too-tight jeans – and it's only heaven from that on, won't say more.

Now I call @fuckyeahdindjarin ✨Queen of the Build Up✨ and that's because the way Cee builds up the sexual tension between characters it's undescribable.

Cee is such an excellent writer, not only in Seams but on other stories too she's gives a rich description of details that makes the reading flow better, it's like knowing you looking at gem stone.

Breakout (complete)

Summary: Boxer!Joel AU when he has to train a fuckboy who happens to date a sweet little thing.

Well I'm a fan from @the-ginger-hedge-witch for a while, she wrote one of the best Javier Peña fics ever (which turned into a book and that's fucking A-M-A-Z-I-N-G!!!) and other amazing stories, but this one got me hooked so bad.

Clearly I have a pattern because I LOVE when there is an obstacle for the characters to stay together, in this case, a relationship (I already spoiled that her boyfriend sucks, but I don't think it's spoils the story development) and Ren just atests she's a wonderful writer - now book writer, blessed be her 🙏🏻

And the idea of Joel using his fists it's already apealing, am I right?

I also recommend Friendly Fire, that I love just for knowing that in this, Ren envisioned an Aries character for reader - but also the premise of the story is great, too.

In The Woods Somewhere (complete)

Summary: living alone in a cabin at the apocalypse gets less dull when a teenager appears with a handsome injured man.

I've read this since a while, but it marked me. @eupheme created such tenderness between the characters - they know he and Ellie can't stay, which makes the affair even more apealling.

I’ll know It when I see it (on-going)

Summary: Joel as a porn star in its golden era who meets Lucky, a rising star in porn - chemestry goes beyond the cameras.

@bageldaddy deserves all the shout out forever because this here it's golden. They're both are porn stars and I could be hot just for this, but of course there's feelings involved - and the way they struggle to fight against these it's what makes this story even more perfect. Shout out to the one shot Sundown, as well, it’s completely wonderful.

Something wretched about this (complete)

Summary: Joel Miller it's a self appointed pharmacist in the QZ, and fucks you when you don't have how to pay for your father's medicine

Whoring yourself for meds sounds bad? In this story it's hot af! It's filthy, each chapter explores different sexual practices and it's THE. BEST. THING. IN. THE. WORLD!!!

@covetyou it's the most blessed being for writing a perfection like this, seriously. I loved every single chapter of this, loved Joel being an asshole and a slut. I can't tell enough how much joy this story has brought me. And lo it's better than Santa, because she provides christmas gifts for the nice and naughty, with Freeze-thaw (smut with fluff) and Baubles (smut with FILTH) - I can't die before I try the balldo, I didn't even knew this, didn't think that this could be possible - but happily it is, and this one shot it's perfect in every aspect.

Take Care of You (on-going)

Summary: Joel it's a sugar daddy in this AU and appears in your life to make all better 👀 He doesn't charges for the sexual part of the arrangement, but he's irresistible - so what will you do?

The ideia of a sugar daddy it's extremely appealing to me because that's all I wanted, you know? Some rich hot guy telling me I don't need to work and paying everything to me - that's living! Okay jk, but I started reading this when things caught up badly at work, so it was a sweet refuge.

@theidiotwhowritesthings it's the perfect writer! It's the perfect slow burn that makes you thirst for more and more!

Apothecary (complete)

Summary: Summary: Joel falls in love with the "witch" from Jackson and it has its perks and struggles.

I LOVE Practical Magic, it's one of my favorites witch movies so to read something inspired on that it's great -but @atinylittlepain it's such a wonderful, talented, amazing writer - so we were all blessed with this masterpiece.

It has fluff, angst, smut - stupid people being scared about what they don't understand and etc. It's very sweet, Joel also doesn't understands about her, but can't help being drawn. And Ellie it's a natural, their relationship here, how they grow to be a family ... it's utterly sweet. Special mention to Only Lovers Left Alive (another movie that I LOVE), The Heyloft and the masterpiece Down to The Ankles (it's perfection and it's inspired in Bones and All, other film that I truly love).

Come home (on-going)

Summary: when you've lost everything and everyone, you reach to Jackson - and meets a ruggedly handsome who you can't help being drawn to.

I've read this for a while, as well, but I still think about this story often. It's a slow burn - which I love (in case you haven't noticed from the stories listed above) - and it's so sweet, the blossom of a friendship that turns to more, their relationship with Ellie ... It's been a while since it was uptaded and I hope @imtryingmybeskar it's okay, because this story it's lovely and I really wish to see and ending for them.

Catalyst

I'm gonna just summarize that it's a threesome with Joel and Frankie Morales from Triple Frontier, that's it - if that ain't reason enough for you to read, idk man.

I didn't even knew that I wanted it, that I needed it - until I read it. I find threesomes hot af, but I don't tend to enjoy when it's with characters that I love too deeply - don't ask me why - but in THIS ONE, GOD FUCKING DAAAAAMN!

It has filth, of course, but there's also fluff - which I find inevitable when it's about Frankie. In the chapter Here, especially, @ezrasbirdie builds perfectly of the struggles that I imagine for a threeway relationship, reading it was sad, hot and lovely.

Hope all the links work, 'cause I don't have time to check now 🙃

Sorry if my comments felt weird, if I forgot to mention something, as I've said above, I intend to make a part 2 of recs someday soon (hopefully).

I wish everyone a happy new year 🎆🥂🎇

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writingquestionsanswered · 8 months ago

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Hi! Do you have any tips how to not lose interest in a story and be enough interested to start/do write if? Personally I just get hyperfixated on a story idea I have, do the brainstorming, even the planning, sometimes world building and if I get serious I make lists about almost everything but never end up writing even if I have interest still, but at most cases at the point I could start writing I just loose interest and get bored of a story when I'm done figuring out what it'll be about and maybe because I don't really like thinking about the climax or the end of the story...

Hyperfixation on Planning Story, But Can't Write It

I do have some tips on rekindling your interest in your story, which I'll link below, but first I think it's worth addressing the specific issues you mentioned: that you don't like to think about the climax or end of the story.

Have you thought at all about why you feel that way? There are a few potential reasons I can think of:

1 - Your story doesn't have a conflict, so your story doesn't have a natural climax or ending. Stories revolve around conflict, or in other words a problem that needs to be solved. This problem could be in the character's heart and mind (internal conflict), in the character's situation/life/world (external conflict), or you can have both at the same time. Many stories these days have a parallel internal and external conflict. Stories are ultimately about someone (or a bunch of someones) trying to solve a problem. In order to solve that problem, they need to reach a particular goal or accomplish a particular thing. The bulk of the story will be their struggle to reach this goal as they overcome the obstacles along the way. The climax of the story is where they face down the cause of the conflict once and for all, whether that's a villain (like an evil wizard or corrupt corporation) or a force (like illness or a natural disaster) and try to solve the problem once and for all. Everything after that is the aftermath... whether they succeeded or failed, patching up their "wounds" from the "battle" (again, it doesn't have to be actual wounds or an actual battle), and settling into the post-conflict life. That's your ending.

2 - You have a conflict, but haven't figured out how it would be resolved, so the climax and ending are fuzzy. If you have a conflict but aren't sure how it would be resolved, it might help to think of the conflict as a problem that needs to be solved. For example, in The Hunger Games, the conflict was the Hunger Games Event... the problem was that Katniss volunteered to compete which put her life at risk. So the solution to the problem was to survive the event.

3 - You know what the climax and ending are, but you are enjoying the characters and world and don't want the story to end. This is one I think many writers can relate to. It can be really hard to let go of a story when you've enjoyed writing it, have gotten attached to the characters, and feel comfortable/familiar with the world. It can also be a little scary to think about diving into a whole new story. But, we do have to learn to let go of stories when they're finished and let them come to their natural conclusion. You can always go back to the world and characters, even if just for yourself, later on. It wouldn't be weird to write "fan-fiction" of your own story, and many writers turn these kinds of stories into prequels, sequels, companion series, and companion short stories that their readers enjoy, too.

Here are some tips for getting excited about your story again if you just need your motivation rekindled:

Guide: How to Rekindle Your Motivation to Write 5 Reasons You Lost Interest in Your WIP, Plus Fixes! Getting Excited About Your Story Again Getting Unstuck: Motivation Beyond Mood Boards & Playlists Feeling Unmotivated with WIP

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking | ♦ Learn more about WQA here

#wqaadvice

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the-algid · 6 months ago

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Darkthur's Collage!!

Kind of not a character but I have a playlist for him so he gets one. This is also the more fucked up parts of Arthur, Darkthur is just when those traits take over.

Playlist link, and reasonings below cut off

The painting, or paper cut out I'm not sure, is supposed to symbolize his transformation into something monstrous. No longer human anymore.

Those arms where supposed to be chained, but I couldn't find any, I do like the interpretation of freedom. Those are supposed to symbolize no matter which arm of Arthur's i cut off one of them is going to be trapped (especially in my interpretation/au)

The hands are reaching for a wolf's jaw because I think Darkthur reaches for violence for comfort. Don't have to worry about morals, if you're irredeemably fucked up, don't have to worry about real world problems if you kill first ask questions never.

The flesh man on the right, is supposed to symbolize his cannibalism, and cannibalistic instinct. This is mostly how Darkthur in my mind is also a representation of the traits that led Arthur to eat Faust.

A fuck ton of blood, since he is known for his violence, and murdering.

The gold blood is supposed to by ichor, the blood of the gods. In most Darkthur interpretations he chops of John's hand, making a god bleed. (in my interpretation/au the ichor is more metaphorical)

Footprints in the background to symbolize the stalking of an animal, he is a hunter.

A gun since that's the only weapon we know he canonically has used.

A knife since, it's a convenient weapon. You can reach for it easily, and it's in a kitchen. a Household weapon designed, and twisted fro violence.

A rusty axe, as a call back to the time a man cut off his own head with a rusty axe. Pure debauched violence

My interpretation/au (emphasis on AU since I don't think this would be canon) for Darkthur is that the arm is still John's. Somehow Arthur got right arm cut off. The difference for others Darkthur's is that he manipulates John to kill people. He promises John that if he kills this person, he'll get the Arthur he loved when they go to bed, or just next time they have a break. Is really is fuckde up toxic yoai in this one. (highkey inspired by In My Room by Insane Clown Posse)

The barbed wire is more sharp stuff, and it's meant to keep stuff out or in. Darkthur is probably more closed off, he doesn't let people in. He also might try to keep his violence inside.

#malevolent #malevolent podcast #malevolent fanart #darkthur #arthur lester #implied cannibalism #mild gore cw #spotify #algid collages #collage #digital collage #Spotify

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utilitycaster · 2 months ago

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Can I just say I've really appreciated your TLOVM critique posts? I feel like, as a fan since 2016, I'm the weird one for continuing to really enjoy it as a TV show instead of this dam bursting about people disliking it for XYZ reasons.

You're welcome!

For what it's worth: there are flaws, and while in my opinion they've been a combination of annoying but not enough of a problem to make a fuss; actually totally fine given it's a different medium and I'm not looking for a Snyder cut; or "this was also a problem in the campaign, it's just exacerbated by a distillation and was smoothed over by your memory" I really do think it's valid for people to dislike it and complain about it, whether or not I agree with those complaints. I would rather someone have articulated reasons why they hate something I enjoyed than some smug spineless "um you can't criticize art because a human made it? I'm happy with anything because I have no standards, and judging you for not being as bland and pliable as I am?"

I also, and I'd say sorry to soapbox but it will happen again, think it's good to get comfortable with being The Weird One re: opinions on stuff. Like, I'm pretty good at it and even I have moments where I have to say "okay, am I just being too generous/too much of a hater?" There's a lot of critically acclaimed or extremely popular things I find either insufferable or forgettable (The Salt Grows Heavy...the HBO show Girls...literally all those bands I joked about people putting on every single character playlist...A Confederacy of Dunces) and it is great to find people who agree with me on this but also sometimes you just have to be like "well I guess everyone else has a different take, and it is what it is." It's good and it builds character.

#tlovm tag #cr tag

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raplinesmoon · 1 year ago

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Après Moi, Le Deluge (JHS x F!Reader)

pairing: Hoseok x afab!reader genres/au/rating: angst, smut, some fluff, mafia au, sort of arranged marriage au, exes au, 18+ summary: It was one night. One night where Hoseok sought refuge from the storm outside, from the life he led, from the past that haunted him. And where else does fate lead him but back into your arms?

word count: 8.2k

warnings: the mafia, mentions minor character death, cursing, smoking, alcohol use, use of weapons, strained relationships with parents, mental health issues, mentions threats against people Hoseok cares about, brief, non-graphic depiction of blood and injuries, breakups, makeups, a cameo by one Xu Minghao, Hoseok and OC are both very closed off and bad at communicating, Hoseok is lowkey an asshole for most of this, happy-ish ending, smut warnings: making out, fingering (fem receiving), nipple play, unprotected sex, marking, teeny bit of cockwarming

a/n: Hello it is me, profusely apologising because there is no reason this should have taken this long to write, other than I had the worst case of writer's block ever, but I missed Hoseok and I needed to see this through. This fic is set in the same universe as Doom Boy, my Namjoon mafia fic! You don't necessarily have to read Doom Boy to read this, but it may help some of the moments mentioned here make sense! The title is a reference to a famous saying by King Louis XV of France, or if you're me, season 1 episode 11 of The Originals. I hope you all enjoy <3

listen to the playlist here!

The rain slams down on the pavement, rendering the soles of Hoseok’s shoes even more sodden than they’d previously been. A cold, sticky feeling settles across his spine, and he heaves for breath, wishing he could just stop and take a break. But he can’t. He has to keep moving. Resisting the urge to shiver and warm himself up, he rounds the corner.

The day had started off normal enough. Hoseok had been assigned patrol duty for the day by Namjoon, a task he was more than familiar with. After the collapse of the Kim empire and his father’s death, Namjoon had returned to clean up the family business. And he was doing a damn good job at it, training the younger ones like Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook in how to run a business.

But there was more to this than a business, and Namjoon knew that well enough. Someone had to be around to air out the dirty laundry, to clean up the streets. And who better for the job than Hoseok?

He was used to it anyway, more comfortable around knives and guns than he’d ever been around people who weren’t Namjoon, Yoongi, or Seokjin. It was partly the reason he’d been sent out tonight, to monitor the slimy activities that took place under the cover of night.

Yet sometimes, the downpour got the best of Hoseok. He hadn’t been expecting the Choi cronies to spot him, much less for them to be armed. Luckily they were as thick-skulled as Hoseok expected them to be, and he’d been able to craft a quick escape. For the time being.

But it wouldn’t last for long. Hoseok knew the men would be on his tail all night, and as much as he wanted to call for backup, he didn’t feel like bothering Namjoon, Yoongi, or their families, at this time of night. He wouldn’t have had a problem bothering Seokjin, but that fucker had run the moment he’d shot up Namjoon’s father.

Looking around, he falters. The buildings around him loom ominously, stretching much taller than he’s used to, the lights from the highest floors creating artificial stars against the cloudy backdrop of the sky. Hoseok gathers that he must be in the swanky part of town. He scoffs, knowing from personal experience the rich were no better than the mobs and gangs they pretended to look down upon, licking at their bootstraps whenever the necessity arose.

Still, he decides it’s better to take cover. He spots the sleeping security guard from outside one of the buildings, and slips in, shaking the raindrops from his hair. Making his way to the elevators at the end of the lobby, his mind ran with plans of how he’d clean up the mess with the Choi men in a way that Namjoon would approve of.

Which is why he misses the other person entering the elevator at the same time as him, instead collapsing against the railing and letting out a loud sigh, rubbing at his eyes.

“H-Hoseok?” the voice that calls out to him is quiet, barely above a whisper. But its familiarity sends a chill down Hoseok’s spine. It’s a voice he thought he’d never hear again.

His eyes open slowly, and he sees his shocked reflection mirrored in the ones directly across from him, eyes that he’d never been able to forget. The way they look at him now is the same way they’d been the last time he saw you, on a similarly cloudy day.

The eyes of his former fiancée.

The doors of the elevator screech shut, the sound doing nothing to drown out the pounding of your heart. The soft tiny plops of raindrops echo on the grey floor, falling from Hoseok’s hair as he freezes at the sound of your voice.

You suck in a breath, lungs desperately searching for air, unable to squeak out anything beyond his name. Brows furrowing, you check him for any signs of injury, relieved when you find nothing but his blank eyes blinking back at you. You didn’t have to ask him where he’d been tonight. Both of you already knew.

It infuriates you that even after everything, after all this time, he still manages to have this effect on you. You hate how you can’t take your eyes off the lean curve of his neck, or the tiny mole above his heart-shaped smile.

A chill runs down your spine, despite having never stepped foot out in the rain.

“Why are you…” your throat feels heavy, struggling to get the words out, to ask him why he ended up here of all places. Especially when you made it clear you never wanted to see him again after the last time.

“Choi’s men were tailing me, I had to get them off my back,” he barks, immediately regretting his harsh tone when he looks into your weary eyes, on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry,” he adds on, more gently this time. “If I’d have known, I would never…”

Never what? Never managed to infiltrate the one place you thought you could be free of him, from the past the two of you shared?

Your shoulders slump against the panel, and you realize you’d never pressed the button to go up, too consumed by his presence. Finally managing to muster up the focus, you turn away, hearing the elevator creak to life.

“You’re always sorry. How can I be sure that this time, you mean it?”

Hoseok is annoyed. First of all, this damn elevator is taking nearly too long to go anywhere, and he longs for escape from this metallic box that’s imprisoning you both. Second of all, your words cut at him, sharper than any knife and hotter than any bullet any of Choi’s men could have sent his way tonight.

As far as he remembers, you’d been the one to end it. You’d been the one to walk away from your arrangement.

He doesn’t know why he grits his teeth, biting down to combat the throbbing pain in his temples. You were supposed to be gone, your goodbye delivered in the same way the designer bags and packages piled up at your doorstep - neat, polished, shallow, the ties that had brought you together unraveling before they’d even had a chance to be joined properly.

Unfinished business. That’s what you were. And Hoseok hated unfinished business. But somehow, he’d never managed to hate you. You’d never given him a fair chance.

. . .

Hoseok shrugged the wife beater over his head with a grunt, immediately turning around to see if he’d woken up his sleeping companion, but she remained unfazed, her soft snores echoing into the pillow.

He lets his eyes linger over her body appreciatively one last time before he slips on his leather jacket and is out the door. For a brief moment, his hand twitches, yearning to reach into his pocket and call Namjoon for old times’ sake, detailing every last detail of his lascivious romp. The thought is abandoned immediately, Hoseok’s mood souring at the thought of his former best friend. Namjoon had no trouble leaving all of them behind, so why should he even bother? Instead, he reaches into his other pocket, his frenzied emotions finally calming down when he pulls out the lighter. Ducking under an awning, he checks his surroundings for anything suspicious before affirming that the coast is clear, lighting up and taking a drag. The smoke drifts away on the nighttime breeze, and Hoseok follows, roaming the city streets.

It’s lonely at this hour, not another soul in sight, but Hoseok prefers it that way. Gone are the days when he and his friends would run through the city, stealing cars and honking horns at everyone for fun. Now, shit had hit the fan big time, and there was no room for fun anymore. With Namjoon gone, Hoseok, along with Seokjin and Yoongi, had been sucked into the tangled web of duties he’d left behind, each stepping up in their own way.

Holding a gun in his hands for the first time had been a sobering experience for Hoseok. It rattled him that if he pressed down on the trigger, so many things could change in a split second. He’d heard the higher-ups in the organization rave with glee about how much fun it was putting the city’s other families in line, Namjoon’s father at the head of them. And for a brief moment, Hoseok understood what it was that Namjoon had run away from. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still pissed off about it though.

His lips turn up in a smile when he takes in the graffiti on the building in front of him, thinking back to his younger, more rebellious self, before faltering. Someone else was there.

He wonders if you’re cold, the thin satin gown doing nothing to protect you from the chill, and he wants to laugh at the contrast between his well-worn leather jacket and the jewels dripping from your ears. They must cost a few thousands of dollars, money he’d never had in his pocket. His eyes scan around for someone, anyone – a boyfriend, or a husband maybe. But you’re alone.

Nobility has never been Hoseok’s forte - Namjoon and Seokjin had always been the womanizers, and poor Yoongi had been in love with the same woman for over ten years, but he clears his throat, prompting you to turn around, eyes widening at your company.

If he catches a glimpse of unshed tears in your eyes, he doesn’t say anything.

“Kids these days, huh? They’ll do anything to cause a little chaos,” he quips, a sinking feeling building up in his chest when you don’t respond.

“Ma’am,” he grapples with whether he should ask for your name, “do you need me to walk you home?”

“Did you read it?” your voice is quieter than he expects, yet he draws closer, wanting to hear more of it. Coming to stand beside you, he takes in the captivating features of your face, made all the more alluring by the shadows cast across them.

Following your gaze, he looks at the mural on the wall. A giant wave, Hosukai-style, crashing into a set of words. “After me, the flood,” your voice whispers, and Hoseok feels a rush of emotion at the way you say it, his mind circling back to everything that had happened in the past few years - the dark cloud that had settled over all their lives with Namjoon leaving, the city’s underbelly coming to life, crawling out of the woodwork.

“I have to go,” you interrupt him, heels clacking against the pavement, before Hoseok’s gaze turns sharply on you, the desperation in his eyes begging you not to go. Come sunrise, he’d be forced back into the same grim routine, but right now, it felt nice, standing here with you.

“Will you be okay getting home alone?” he asks, grappling for any chance to prolong the moment.

“My driver is around the corner,” you tell him. “Thank you for keeping me company, –”

“Hoseok,” he fills you in, his chest aching with the desire to ask for your own name, but you’re already gone.

. . .

Hoseok wakes up the next morning to the rattling of the blinds, the sunlight causing him to immediately shut his eyes and bite back a groan. There was only one person who’d have access to his apartment at this hour – and exploit it.

“Eomma?” he rasps, burrowing his head further into the sheets. “What are you doing here?”

“Did you forget Hoseok-ah? Hurry up and get dressed, everyone’s waiting! You have five minutes.”

Forget what? His mother’s fussing continues in the background as she leafs through his closet, no doubt trying to find him a suitable outfit amongst the many pairs of ripped denim and oversized shirts he prefers on a day-to-day basis. Hoseok wracks his brain, trying to remember what could have called for such an occasion, but comes up empty, his mother’s stern warning echoing in his ears.

As per usual, if it had anything to do with the organization, he’d do best not to ignore it.

Slipping on the stark white shirt and tie she’d chosen, the fabric itches against his skin, and he rakes his fingers through his hair, attempting to comb the mess into something somewhat presentable. He’s sure there was little to be done about the bags under his eyes, and the faint smell of tobacco emanating from him, and hoped that whoever these important guests were, they wouldn’t catch onto his late-night activities from the previous day.

Stumbling into the hallway, Hoseok hears the faint chatter of voices, his father’s bellowing laugh a stark contrast to his mother’s delicate titter, and is immediately confused. Conversations with the bosses of the organization weren’t usually so… enthusiastic.

When he rounds the corner to his living room, he stops in his tracks. Sitting next to his mother and father is another older couple he doesn’t recognize. They reek of wealth that his family could never even imagine, he notes, the polished Italian leather of the man’s shoes and the older woman’s massive diamond ring speaking for themselves. But he could honestly care less. Because to their left side, sitting on his favorite armchair, is you. The woman from in front of the mural. You’re clad in a simple sundress today, but you still manage to be nothing short of breathtaking against the backdrop of the sun’s rays.

“There you are, Hoseok!” his father beckons him over jovially, but Hoseok remains frozen. “This is Mr. and Mrs. ____, and their daughter ____.”

Hoseok’s turns his gaze to his father, watching him recoil at the sharpness present in his son’s expression, a thousand unspoken questions lingering on his lips as to why these people were here, what purpose they had in his home, his space.

“We’d like for the two of you to get to know each other,” your mother speaks up with a smile so wide, he’d assume it’d been plastered onto her face.

“Why?” he finally manages to whistle out in between grit teeth, looking only at you. But you don’t meet his eyes. Instead, your gaze is looking out his window, at the city beyond, the same loneliness from last night ever present in your eyes.

“Because,” his father continues uncertainly, fidgeting the glass of wine in his hands, “___ is going to be your wife.”

You can feel Hoseok’s eyes glaring into the back of your head as he follows you wordlessly down the hallway. Moments pass before you come to a stop outside your apartment, and you hear the faint stumble of Hoseok’s boots as he stops unexpectedly in his tracks. His warm breath fans against the back of your neck for a brief moment before he straightens with a grunt, and you resist the urge to shiver, despite having never stepped foot into the rain.

The lock clicks, and he follows you inside. You can hear him rustle behind you as he struggles to remove his coat and boots, but you look straight ahead, hoping the darkness can hide how your fingernails are digging into your palm.

“I won’t stay long,” his low voice breaks the silence. “Just until the storm passes.”

“Please,” you manage to muster up your most polite sounding voice. “Have a seat. I can get you something, maybe some water, o-or a cup of tea…”

You want to curse your voice for wobbling in his presence, hating the way he still affected you even after all this time apart. Your brain bades you to walk away instinctively, and so you pad into the kitchen, wanting to put distance in between you and Hoseok so he can’t hear the rapid fluttering of your heart. The noise pounds in your ears as you rattle around in the cupboards, cursing when you realized you’d forgotten to turn on the light. It seemed embarrassing to do it now, and so you reach aimlessly, looking for some coffee.

The pot bubbles, and in mere moments, you’re clutching two steaming mugs, finding your way back onto the living room. Hoseok has settled himself onto your couch, taking extra care not to rest his soaked shirt against the back of it, instead hunched over and dangling an unlit cigarette from his fingertips.

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you’d be okay with me…” he gestures to it, twirling it around in his fingers. “I know you don’t like the smell.”

You’re unsure whether to be touched that he remembers, or uneasy at the way he says it so monotonously, as if you’d still judge him for something so mundane when so much else had happened in between you.

“Here,” you set down the coffee in front of him, taking the seat directly opposite. “It’ll help take the edge off.”

The warm liquid burns your throat as you rush to take a sip, and you nearly sputter trying to keep it down. Over the rim of your cup, Hoseok remains frozen, his own mug steaming and untouched. His dark eyes bore into you, studying your face, and you feel your cheeks begin to burn.

If he notices the bags under your eyes, he says nothing. The same way he says nothing when he probably remarks at your simplistic clothes and lack of jewelry, a far cry from the expensive dresses and diamonds he’d been used to seeing you in.

“Were you about to go out?” Hoseok asks, and the question catches you off guard. “I’m sorry if I stopped you from going somewhere.”

“Or meeting someone.” The last part is a hushed whisper, mumbled underneath his breath, in the hopes that you wouldn’t catch him. But you had. You wish he’d stop apologizing. It makes you feel guilty when you shouldn’t be, like he’s trying and you’re shutting him out, when in reality it’d been the exact opposite.

All of a sudden, your phone buzzes to life, a text message lighting up the screen. You freeze when you see who it’s from, quickly snatching your phone and cursing in your head. Minghao was a friend of a friend, the two of you running into each other a number of times over the past couple of weeks, before he’d finally plucked up the courage to ask you for a coffee date.

You’d told him you’d think about it, and now here he was, lighting up your phone to ask you about your decision. Of course, how was he supposed to know that the reason you’d been holding off was the very man sitting in your living room, whom you’d almost married, and still couldn’t seem to let go?

Clutching your phone to your chest, you turn it to silent, setting it down beside you. Hoseok’s eyes are alight with curiosity, his lips turned up in a faint smirk, as though he’s remembering his statement from earlier.

You take another sip, willing the caffeine to give you some strength, to rein in the bare threads of this conversation back to your control.

“How are your parents?”

Hoseok is taken aback by the question. He hadn’t expected it from you. There had once been a time where you’d been bright eyed and eager, wanting to know everything about him, bombarding him with question after question every time you were together. And yet somehow, he’d never managed to give you the time of day, always giving brusque answers and half-hearted excuses that there were other things that needed his attention.

He knew it was just a poor attempt to fill the silence, but his heart lurches at the thought that there’s so much you don’t know anymore. Namjoon coming back, Seokjin running away, the life that Hoseok knew being turned inside out. What’s more unsettling is the fact that he yearns to tell you, despite knowing he’d lost the privilege to do so.

“They’re okay. Doing well,” he lies through his teeth. “We all are. How about yours?”

He thinks it’s an innocent question, but he watches your fingers blanch as you grip the mug so tight, he thinks it’ll break.

“I wouldn’t know,” you whisper out softly, and his heart stops. “I haven’t spoken to them since– you know.”

Hoseok feels dizzy at your confession. What do you mean you hadn’t spoken to them? Suddenly, it all begins to make sense in his head. The fact that he hadn’t expected to run into you tonight, because he hadn’t expected you to live alone, with your austere clothes and hair tossed up into a messy bun. It was so different from the woman he’d known, the dazzling one he’d written off as hollow in his mind, the one he was incapable of forming a real relationship with.

And here you were, living the exact opposite of the cozy life he’d painted for you in his head. He thought you’d be fine, that you’d move on, your family offering you up to the next prospect that came along. And you’d accept them, like you’d accepted Hoseok with all his flaws, not caring that he could barely give you what you deserved.

His thoughts flash back to the last conversation you had, tears streaming down your face as you sobbed.

I can’t live like this anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and he watches annoyance flash across your face. He knows he’s done nothing but apologize this entire time, but it probably isn’t even worth a damn. No consolation would ever make up for losing someone that meant everything to you. He’d known that when Namjoon had run away.

“Hey,” you set the mug down, leaning over the table. For a brief second, he sees your hand reach out blindly in the darkness, almost as if it’s searching for his, but you withdraw just as quickly. “I’m okay. I really am.”

“I wish you’d stop pretending,” Hoseok blurts out, and he watches you jolt in surprise. “Why do you always have to pretend like everything’s okay, like nothing affects you? Is it the society training? Or do you really just not care about what happened at all?”

You chew the inside of your cheek, mulling over Hoseok’s words in your head.

“The same way you can pull the trigger on someone and be able to lie in your bed and fall asleep,” you seethe, a venom that Hoseok has never heard in your voice.

“I knew who you were Hoseok. I knew what kind of man I was marrying. You think it didn’t affect me? You think I wasn’t scared out of my wits because of what you did, what other people could do to you?”

You rise up, palms quivering as you open and close them, strolling over to the window. Hoseok watches your shoulders shake before they slump completely, and he knows that you’re crying.

He’s up before he can stop himself, feet ready to walk out the door. He’d fucked up the moment he’d stayed in the elevator with you, all the ugly feelings between you coming to a head, ones he’d struggled so hard to keep buried.

But his body betrays him, instead leading him right behind. He pauses until he’s just close enough that if he reaches out, he’d be able to grab your arm and turn you around to face him. But he waits instead.

“I did what I did because I realized I was chasing a ghost,” you huff out, resignation in your tone. “I wanted you to be someone you weren’t. I wanted you to care so badly. But you didn’t. I don’t want any part in whatever you’re caught up in, Hoseok. Whatever has a hold on you so badly that you couldn’t even look beyond your cynicism to give me a chance.”

“I just want to survive.”

Hoseok grips the bathroom sink, knuckles turning white. His cell phone clatters on the counter beside him and he has to keep from heaving. This whole thing was a mess – no one had counted on Namjoon coming back. Even less so on him refusing to take up his father’s mantle. And so the threats continued – the words from the anonymous phone call still ringing in his ear, your name echoing across the line.

While he didn’t know what he felt for you, or whether he could even marry you, Hoseok knew you were an innocent person. You didn’t deserve to be the victim of your parents’ greed, them using you to bury their secrets in the hands of even more powerful people. You deserved gardens full of flowers and meals together every night, not coming home to an empty bed. Or a fiancé who couldn’t spare a moment during the entire night to even dance with you.

He’s so lost in his brooding that he doesn’t hear the door the click behind him, the soft tapping of heels on the floor coming up behind him.

“Is something wrong?” you ask him gently, and he feels the bristle of your hand on his jacket.

So much was wrong. You couldn’t even begin to understand.

“It’s fine,” he clears his throat, straightening up to adjust his jacket. “I’ll need to leave soon. I can have the car stay behind for you.”

The farther away he got from you, the better. That way no one could hurt you – or him.

“I can go with you,” your voice echoes from beside him, “I was getting tired anyway.”

Hoseok turns to face you, watching you recoil at the red rimming his eyes, the bags underneath them becoming even more prominent in the dim lighting of the bathroom.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to reach for the single strand of hair that has managed to escape your polished bun, but he watches you suck in a breath, lips parting in surprise.

Before he knows it, your face is drawing in closer, and he can smell the rosé on your breath. Your lips barely ghost against his, and he has to fight every nerve ending not to grab your hand and run away from here, somewhere where he wasn’t Hoseok, and you weren’t ____, and you didn’t need protecting from everything around you – most of all him.

His paralysis slowly melts away and he’s pushing you away without realizing, the door to the bathroom suddenly materialising in front of him.

“Like I said,” he doesn’t bother turning around, knowing his heart would twist at whatever expression he found on your face. “I’ll have the car stay behind for you.”

Before you can wrestle with the weight of your confession to Hoseok, a hand is clamping over your mouth. Caught in a silent scream, you turn your eyes to see Hoseok lifting a finger to his lips, willing you to stay quiet. And that’s when you hear them. The voices.

Raucous laughter echoes through the hallway, tinged with malevolent glee. The air around you feels cold, a breeze at the base of your spine, and you instinctively curl into Hoseok.

“Come out, come out,” the disembodied voice cackles from the hallway. “Are you hiding from us, Jung? Found some poor rich girl to use as a body shield?”

Your hand seizes Hoseok’s wrist clamped against your mouth, nails digging into his arm, the fear taking over. Slowly, his wrist lowers, slipping to take your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I won’t let anything happen to you. Do you trust me?”

He’s so quiet you almost can’t tell he’s said it at all. You nod reluctantly, eyes continuing to dart to the door.

“Go hide underneath the bed. Lock the door. I may or may not come back but please stay inside. Don’t come looking for me.”

His voice is clipped, the faint hint of nerves colouring his tone, but his eyes are filled with a resoluteness you know all too well. You’d spent the better part of over a year staring into them, hoping they’d look back. And now they finally were.

“Be safe.” Your voice comes out louder than you’d intended, but there’s no anger in Hoseok’s expression. All he does is nod, and then you turn, stumbling down the hallway to your room, never bothering to look back until you hear the door click behind you.

. . .

Hoseok’s heart pounds in his chest, a strange pain settling in his ribs – he never expected to be in this position again. His sense of duty had always been his biggest downfall – and while you were no longer his, he owed it to you to make sure he gave you exactly what you’d asked him for – the chance to survive, to come out on the other side of this. That’s why he had to settle this once and for all.

Choi’s cronies linger at the other end of the hallway, too dumb to notice Hoseok slipping out of your door, reaching for the revolver he’d kept hidden in his coat pocket. A chill settles in his bones as he runs his fingers over the metal.

The brief events of the night play over in his head – the rain pounding against the pavement, the ding of the elevator, the now-cold mug of coffee that sat on your coffee table. And then there was you – your eyes, the softness of your skin, the faint smell of gardenias that lingered on your skin.

And it hits Hoseok that while he was very much alive – he’d been in mourning. Mourning for the friendships he’d never be able to recover, for the youth that had been taken away from him. But most of all, Hoseok’s heart mourns for the relationship he’d never gotten to have with you. The glass walls he’d so carefully put up around himself shatter, making way for a torrential deluge.

After me, the flood.

He remembers the first night you’d met, how he’d been drawn to you without even trying, the portrait of the wave. He remembers the months that passed afterwards, where you drew closer to him and he drew back. He remembers the regret he’d buried deep in his heart for not kissing you back the night of the gala, not knowing he’d never get another chance.

But most of all, he remembers the somber expression on your face the day you’d ended things, pressing the engagement ring back into his hands, the very same ring that was still sitting in the first drawer of his nightstand.

Choi’s men finally perk up, noticing Hoseok’s solitary figure lingering at the end of the hallway, smirks twisting on their grotesque faces. A shot rings out, and Hoseok thinks of you now, hiding under your bed. And then he charges.

The alleyway was grim at this time of day, the sunlight barely able to reach beyond the towering skyscrapers, the clouds casting everything in grey. Rain fell softly from the sky. You clutch your coat tighter around you, unable to stop looking at the mural of the wave.

So much had changed since you’d first seen it. And yet it was still the same.

You know Hoseok from the thud of his boots against the pavement, coming up beside you. His head turns, an eyebrow raised in your direction, wondering why you’d asked to meet him here of all places.

You avoid his eyes, fingers clasping around the blue velvet in your pocket. His eyes widen with surprise when he sees the box, confusion marring his handsome face.

A knot forms in your chest when you watch the confusion turn into alarm as you press the box into his hand, the dazzling diamond no longer on your left finger.

“I don’t understand,” he grunts, breath visible in the cold air.

“We can’t do this anymore, Hoseok. I can’t do this. I can’t live like this.”

“Was it something that I did?” he questions you, desperation creeping into his voice.

You scoff, watching him flinch, pain on his face.

“No, it’s the opposite. It’s what you haven’t ever been able to do. It’s been an entire year, Hoseok. I’ve watched you answer every phone call that comes your way, disappear into the night to do god knows what, run whenever your friends call. And in that entire time, have you ever thought about us? About the future?”

You take a deep breath.

“I know that neither of us chose this, but Hoseok, we were engaged. Did that mean anything to you?”

He squares his shoulders, fists clenching at his sides, a tick in his jaw.

“You don’t understand. I-I’m not good for you, ___. I dont think I’ll ever be. There’s too much that’s happened, too much I’ve lost. But please don’t walk away like this.

“I thought it’d be enough,” you whisper, and Hoseok freezes. You didn’t know he’d heard you.

“I thought me loving you would be enough for the both of us. But it’s not. I need more. I need someone who I know will come home to me every night. But what I need even more than that, is for you to let me walk away so I can breathe again. So I can be myself.”

Your eyes are just as sad as the first time Hoseok saw them, and all of a sudden, you remark at how stagnant the two of you had been together.

“Hoseok please, I know I can’t ask you to do it if you love me, but if you’ve ever cared about me, even the tiniest bit, let me go.”

You watch him open the box, gazing at the ring. Moments pass by before he slips it into his own pocket, his eyes flitting to the wave as he gives you a small smile, the most genuine one you’d ever seen.

“Goodbye, ____.

Hoseok’s fist rattles against the door, before he slumps over, heaving for breath. The pain in his side licks at him like the flames of a fire. He hisses when he presses a hand to it, eyes widening when it comes away covered in blood. Those fuckers had managed to get him. Shit.

His eyes are about to close when the door springs open, the wide eyes of Kim Namjoon taking in his battered figure.

“Hobi, what the fuck?” Namjoon seethes, offering him an arm and pulling him inside. Slinging an arm around Hoseok’s shoulder, the two of them hobble to Namjoon’s kitchen, the burning in Hoseok chest causing him to let out a loud groan.

“Hyun is sleeping,” Namjoon chastises him, and Hoseok bites his tongue, remembering that this Namjoon was dealing with a pregnant wife and a toddler. “You gonna tell me what the hell happened, or do I have to force it out of you?”

“I made a mistake, Namjoon. I went somewhere I shouldn’t have tonight. I fucked up, but I-I didn’t mean to I swear…”

Hoseok feels himself shake as the words pour out, the ruined mission the furthest thing from his mind. He tells Namjoon everything – from being tailed to running into to you, to how he’d left, not knowing whether you were okay or not.

“That was a dick move,” Namjoon huffs.

“Excuse me?” Hoseok looks up at his best friend, who looks more pissed off than he’s ever seen him.

“I said what I said. That was a dick move, just leaving her like that.”

“I don’t need a lecture on running away from you, Namjoon-ah.”

Namjoon wipes away the blood on his side, and Hoseok bites his tongue at the sting of the alcohol, before slumping into the chair next to him.

“You’re an idiot, Jung Hoseok. You’ve been so afraid of letting yourself feel things for so long, and I know it’s because you think that everyone around you is going to leave, or that you’ll lose them. But I’m telling you right now, that’s the stupidest thing you could ever do.”

“You have to let yourself just be, Hobi. Just let go. Enjoy things - life, your friends, your family. Be open to the possibility of love. It’s the only thing that can keep the darkness away.”

Namjoon’s voice shrinks when he says the last line, and Hoseok knows his friend is far off in his own mind, battling the demons that plague him.

“I think I’m too far gone for that, Namjoon,” Hoseok tells him. “Maybe some of us weren’t meant for happiness. Maybe some of us needed to make sacrifices so others could live the lives they wanted to.”

“That’s a damn lie if I’ve ever heard one, Hoseok.” Namjoon striaghtens, rising up from the chair. “I know you’ve been angry at me for leaving, for keeping you all in the dark. I know how much it hurts to not be able to share your happiest moments with people you love. And I’m sorry for that. But you have a chance to change things.”

“Listen Hobi,” Namjoon crouches down to his level. “I want to be the best man at your wedding – I want to be there for you in all the ways you didn’t get to do for me. This is my way of making amends, but you need to fix whatever this is between you two.”

“What makes you think she’ll even take me back? I was awful to her… god, she didn’t deserve that Joon. She deserves so much better.”

“Do you love her?” Namjoon asks him, and Hoseok is shocked when he doesn’t even have to pause to think about it. He wants to start over, to be by your side, to have a chance to love you properly this time around.

“Second chances come when you least expect them, Hobi. Think about what would have happened if you hadn’t stepped out into the rain last night. And don’t let it happen again.”

The knock at the door startles you, your phone clattering to the floor. Swearing under your breath, you pick it up, perusing the message from Minghao once again. He was nothing if not persistent. And Hoseok was never coming back. You’d convinced yourself of that.

It’d been over a week since he’d left you that night - the promise to keep you safe burrowing its way into your heart. And then radio silence. You’d heard the gunshots in the hallway, but when you’d opened the door, no one was there, the only evidence of the showdown being the faint splatters of blood on the wall. When the police had questioned you, you’d left Hoseok’s name out of it – those words echoing in your mind, instilling a false sense of loyalty in you.

Why did you think things would be different this time around? It’d been foolish to assume that Hoseok thought anything more of you. But you couldn’t forget the look in his eyes, the gentle touches, the way he’d promise he would never let anything happen to you, and you fell for him all over again.

Throwing your phone aside, you grumble as you make your way to the door, making a mental note to respond to Minghao later, agreeing to the date.

Swinging it open, you freeze when you see who’s on the other end. Hoseok, looking worse for wear with bruises on his jaw and a nasty cut on his forehead, nervously twirling a tiny bouquet of flowers in his hand.

You’re dumbfounded - unable to speak as you take him in, his dark, inquisitive eyes gazing into your shocked ones.

“You better let me in, ____,” he says with a grin. “Or the neighbours are gonna think I did something really bad this time.”

Wordlessly, you open the door to allow him to enter, watching as he slips off his coat and shoes, an exact repeat of a week ago. You watch him, trying to open your mouth and say something, ask him anything, but nothing will come out.

“These are for you,” Hoseok nearly shoves the bouquet in your hands and you watch him rub at the back of his neck, his ears reddening.

“Are you okay Hoseok?” you finally manage to ask him, setting the flowers on your coffee table. Your concern wins out over your confusion once again, but the whole scene is odd – him, smiling in your apartment, the late afternoon sunlight casting half his angular face in a mysterious shadow.

“Just a little nick to my side,” he lifts his shirt up, your eyes widening at the bandages on his abdomen. “But actually, I’m not okay. I haven’t been okay since the day I let you walk away, and I can’t live with it anymore.”

You take a step back, unable to breathe. The space in between you seems to have lessened considerably, and you can make out every delicate detail of his face. Dizzy, you put some distance in between the two of you.

“Everything hurts, ___. It hurts because I look at you and I feel like I can’t breathe anymore, knowing how much pain I put you through. It hurts knowing that you’re so kind, so understanding of someone like me, when I don’t deserve it at all. And what hurts the most is knowing that I love you, and I’ve been lying to myself this entire time because I’m afraid you’ll leave just like everyone else, but I lost you anyway.”

Hoseok’s voice cracks on the last words, and you watch him sway, gripping onto your counter for support.

“I thought it was just me this entire time,” you finally manage to look him in the eyes, tears spilling out of your own. “I thought I was crazy, because ever since you walked out that door a week ago, all I’ve been doing is waiting for you to come back.”

“I’m here,” Hoseok closes the gap between you, arms wrapping around you. You breathe in the faint scent of tobacco on his leather jacket, mixed with the spice of his cologne. “And I’m not leaving. Not this time.”

You grip his lapels, before your arms come up to wrap around his neck, running your fingers through the soft hair at his nape.

“What if it’s not different this time around?” you whisper into his neck. “What if nothing changes?”

“What if it is?” his low voice rumbles into your hair. “Can you trust me, ___? One more time?”

You take his hand in yours, bringing it to your chest, his lips parting in awe at the fluttering of your heartbeat.

“Only you can do that to me,” you say softly, a smile gracing your lips.

Before you know it, Hoseok’s lips are crashing against yours, and you can feel him release a euphoric sigh, groaning into your mouth. It’s slow, tentative in the way he waits for your body to respond, never pushing more than you’re comfortable with. Eventually, even the small bit of distance in between you becomes too much to bear. You card your fingers into his hair, pulling slightly at the strands, warmth blossoming in your chest.

It feels too short when he pulls away all too soon, lips tinged with red and eyes dark with something that sends a shiver down your spine.

“I’ve wanted to do that ever since the night of the gala,” he rasps, warmth blooming in your chest at his confession. “You were—, I mean you still are, breathtaking.”

You can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his pulse point right there below your fingertips, and you reach for his hand, watching his entire body soften at your touch.

“Come with me,” you ask him, eyes turning down the hallway to your bedroom. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for.

Hoseok tries to ignore the rapid rushing of blood in his ears, his focus narrowing to your head resting on his shoulder, the two of you looking out at the city together for the last little while from your bed. It’s somewhere he never imagined he’d be, but he’d felt the ice around his heart melt the moment he’d finally kissed you for real, warmth filling his veins.

And despite relishing in your presence, it was spiking to a fever pitch. He’d tasted you, and now he couldn’t get enough. All it takes is a brief moment for you to look in his eyes, and he’s pulling you into him once again, mouth hard on yours, unable to resist the desire for more, more, more.

You whine into his mouth, hands fisting at the edge of his shirt, struggling to pull it over his head. He uses one hand to pin both arms behind you, reaching over with the other to hike your dress up to your stomach, finally peeling it off, and you lie back, eyes alight with desire as you take him in.

He kisses you again, his lean body hovering over yours, hands roaming everywhere – your arms, up your neck, and on your thighs. He inches higher and higher, fingers ghosting over your core.

“Hoseok please,” you whimper, digging your nails into his shoulder blades. “I can’t wait anymore.”

You part your thighs for him, and he wastes no time, pulling your soaked underwear to the side and dipping his fingers into your arousal. He presses another hard kiss to your lips, catching your moans in his mouth while he works you open, leaving you trembling underneath him.

You whine when his fingers leave you, clenching around nothing, coming up to cup your exposed breasts in both hands while he licks and sucks at your nipples.

“Fuck,” he groans against your chest. “How are you so perfect? How are you even mine?”

His voice breaks, and you mouth at his jaw, mirroring his actions until purple bruises begin to bloom in the spots where your lips previously were.

“I’m yours,” you nip at his bottom lip. “Whether you like it or not.”

“Believe me,” he smirks. “I like it. I like it a lot actually. Let me show you how much.”

With adept skill, he manages to remove your panties in seconds, throwing them to the wall. The clinking sound of his belt drives you mad, and your hands join his, the two of you awkwardly fumbling to remove it.

You feel your mouth go dry when his cock springs free, and he chuckles at the depraved look in your eyes.

“Some other time, love,” he whispers, voice lowering a few octaves. “Right now, I need to feel you.”

You gasp when he pushes in, and he pauses, wondering if it’s too much, but you nod, letting him know it’s okay. He thrusts shallowly, before pushing in all the way, watching you squirm underneath him while rutting your hips.

“Move, please,” you beg him, and he obliges, hiking one leg up over his shoulder to open you up for him, the wet sounds of your pussy accompanying the fluid snap of his hips. His knuckles grip the headboard, turning white while he pins you underneath him, unable to take his eyes off the way your tits bounce with every thrust. His hands grip at your ass, every jerk of his hips an excuse to hold you tighter, until he can see your skin redden underneath his fingers.

“Oh my god, Hoseok, I can’t–, it’s too much,” you groan, rocking against him in an attempt to quell the sparks underneath your skin, lighting you up like a livewire.

“Come for me,” he grunts, trapping your clit in between his fingers, rubbing tight circles until you snap, seeking his lips once again, your orgasm flooding your entire body like a wave. Hoseok speeds up his thrusts to join you, roaring when he feels himself explode, before slumping against you, chest heaving with the weight of his breaths.

Moments pass like this, him remaining inside you while he burrows into the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning your damp skin. Eventually he pulls out of you with a soft whine, brushing away the sweat-soaked strands of hair at your temple, before rising.

You trap his wrist in your hand, panic settling in. He watches your expression change and immediately stiffens, cradling you against his chest.

“That expression you always talk about, the flood. I-, I looked it up. And I know the life I have isn’t ideal, and maybe things will only get harder, but I promise I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. I don’t want to live out the rest of my life not caring anymore.”

“Do you know what I was thinking of that night, looking at the wave?” you mumble in his ear, and he gazes at you inquisitively, watching the way your skin glows under the moonlight as you take a breath.

“My whole life, people have forced me into this box, this image, of someone they want me to be – the perfect daughter, the perfect wife. It’s been suffocating. All I wanted that night was a taste of freedom - that feeling of happiness you have on a beach, feeling the waves crash at your feet. And then I saw you.”

Hoseok leaves a kiss in your hair, his fingers intertwining with yours. Briefly, his heart drops at the absence of the ring he’d given you on your finger, but he knows when you’re ready, it’ll be waiting for you. He’ll be waiting for you. And the two of you will step into the flood, together.

a/n pt. 2: Okay long ending note here. First, please visualize this Hoseok with the undercut ;) Second, I don't normally say this but the writer's block really got me good with this one, so I apologize if it's not up to my usual standards (pls be kind tho). And third and last, this fic definitely would never exist if it weren't for the wonderful Guarded series by Ana (@xjoonchildx). I think about it more than is necessary and this is definitely my tribute to the impeccable Captain Jung.

As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi <3

taglist (pls let me know if you want to be removed): @jalexad @secfir @hobi-love @back2bluesidex @temptingempress

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slasherbvnnie · 2 years ago

Note

Hi sorry for disturbing I love your writing style and I love your work ☺️ I was wondering if I could make a request for poly ghostface billy Loomis X reader X Stu macher where the reader gets jealous of their boyfriends because their are these girls that flirt with Billy and stu and the reader starts to ignore both of them and they both sneak into the reader house or workplace to confront them if you don't mind me asking you don't have to if you don't want to I hope you have a lovely day/night and sorry for taking your time ☺️

I hope this is written to your liking. I really enjoyed writing it! This little blurb is brought to you by the perfect girl by mareux and my jason dean playlist.

Diamond Tears

Context: After surviving Ghostface, you and your boyfriends moved in together and went off to college. You are currently majoring in education and recently received a new job. Your boyfriends were happy, until their own work life at Mr. Loomis' firm began to interfere with your love life. All characters 18+ Modern Scream Au

Word Count: 1949

Your boyfriends were always angels to you. Ever since you three became highschool sweethearts they had always been doting, gifting you sweets and treats, stuffed animals, jewelry, and any other little items that reminded them of you. It took awhile to get used to, you weren’t used to previous lovers gifting you items as much as they did, but once they reassured you that money wasn’t a problem to worry over, you relaxed an accepted the gifts.

Billy and Stu received love back from you as well, all in different ways. Stu preferred meals, he loved any meal that was cooked by you, he also gladly accepted being cuddled, held, or babied slightly by you. He was a big puppy with having his head rubbed during movie nights, and on days he let it grow a little longer, he enjoyed feeling you play with his hair. Billy was different, he enjoyed when you comforted him even if he would keep his stoic demeaner, it meant the world to him when you would comfort him. He also loved when you would kiss him or hold onto him in public, he felt proud to show you off as his (and Stu’s) and would proudly flaunt you off when you were together.

The boys were a little sad when you had gotten a new job, in your third year of college which meant you now had to help with being a TA, teachers assistant. That meant you were gone for eight hours or more a day, which wasn’t exactly fun for them. Despite both helping as interns at Billy’s fathers firm, and working nearly as long as you did, the lack of face times and phone calls during their lunches or time alone wasn’t fun.

Luckily for you, school had gotten called off for a holiday, which meant you could surprise the boys while they were at work. You had made one of their favorite meals while at home, packing it into Tupperware and happily placing it into a lunch bag for the two. You also got yourself fixed up for them, wanting to look nice, especially since it would be the first time in the office. You at least wanted them to be excited for when they could finally get home and have you all to themselves.

You walked out to the car, putting the bag of food on the passenger seat as you put on some music and began to drive off. It wasn’t long before you had made it to the parking lot of the law firm, turning off the Mareux song that was playing through the speakers and turning the car off, carrying the bag of food in your hands as you walked inside. You spoke with the secretary at the front desk, happy when she allowed you to go up the elevator to their floor, you looked around the office as you walked to the room she told you that you could find the two, feeling a bit out of place. On movies they didn’t seem much more full of life, but currently this lawyer firm felt like the coldest place on earth, front the generic wall art down to the repeating style of offices.

What warmed your heart however was getting to see your two boyfriends in action, even if they were just interns at the moment and still working hard on their classes, you felt ecstatic knowing they were becoming what they wanted to be. The receptionist had told you to look out for one of the conference rooms, that one of the lawyers were meeting with the newest team they were assigned with and had asked for Stu and Billy to observe with them. Your eyes darted around with all the glass windows, noticing just about everyone except for the boys.

However when you spotted the room a few people were leaving, you saw the tuffs of brown hair you knew well, plus the towering giant known as Stu. What you weren’t expecting however were the other girls in the room who were talking to the two. Typically, you weren’t a very jealous significant other, you knew the two were hot, but you also knew they were yours. What was different this time was how they acted with the two of them, one of the girls hands traced Stu’s arm, who just seemed oblivious as he rambled on about something. Billy was just as oblivious as the girl facing him spoke on and on, pushing her elbows together slightly to show off her cleavage. It wasn’t the first time girls had flirted with them, unknowing that they were dating you, but it was the first time the boys hadn’t brushed them off and that made something churn inside of you. A frown stayed on your face as you swung the door open to the room, stomping as you walked as the four turned their heads to you. “Baby!” Stu called out, your gaze set down at the table, too angered to even notice the girl who had been flirting with him grimace at the name. “I made you two lunch,” you grumbled out, the two taken back, knowing your angered state easily with the amount of years you had been together now.

You tossed the bag onto the table, storming back out and rushing off to the elevator. You disappeared quickly, leaving the two males stunned and attempting to follow after, but were just left with your trail of anger having already taken off.

Your phone had buzzed non stop for a good hour. You sat in the parking lot for about 15 of those 60 minutes, the other 45 was spent driving home and crying in the driveway. Every time someone had flirted with the boys, they were always quick to brush off the other person. Whether it was a guy, or a girl or anyone who identified in between or not at all, they shot them down every single fucking time. You remembered how many times you saw saddened, angered, or even down right dejected stares from those people when they saw you waltz up and plant big kisses onto them. But this time it fucking hurt, two beautiful women flirting with your boyfriends and neither of them shot them down.

The incident replayed in your mind for hours, even trying to go over the little details you could remember. You could have sworn you saw a blush on Stu’s cheeks and if you remembered correctly, you saw Billy’s signature shit eating grin on his face. Your thoughts didn’t cease even when there was a soft thump of the front door. The shuffling of feet as they made their way upstairs and to your- great- locked bedroom you three shared.

“Baby, come on,” Billy pleaded, sighing as he leaned against the doorframe. “Please open up the door baby, you haven’t answered all day and we’re worried about you.” Stu said, jiggling the knob as tears rolled down your cheeks.

You knew eventually you would have to talk to the two, but the thoughts that were running through your mind were tearing away at you. What if the other women were more attractive to them, what if they no longer wanted just you, what if they were cheating on you all along without you suspecting a thing? They only grew more concerned when they heard you heaving and trying not to make noise as you cried, which wasn’t exactly working out for you as you let out choked sobs.

The knob jiggled once again before you could hear the metal clanking of keys being jammed into the lock from the other side and the creak that it was followed up with. Your head turned to the two as you sniffled, trying to wipe your face clean of any tears as they approached you.

They sat on either side of you on the bed, Stu making the first move and wrapping his arms around you gently. “What has you so worked up, pretty girl?” He whispered, Billy’s cold hands tucking some hair behind your ear to get it out of your face. “Why are you crying, sweetheart? Please tell us what’s wrong,” he said softly as you cried even harder, feeling your body shake as you tried to keep in your cries. However, your body betrayed you and began to melt when Billy cupped your face and made you look at him.

It wasn’t very often that you saw his stone cold face change, but what made you break was seeing his teary eyes and red nose staring at you like you were the only thing that mattered to him right now. “You guys- you-“ you only got out two words before your body shook again from how hard you were trying to hold back from crying, leaning into Stu’s chest when he pulled you in even closer. “They were flirting with you guys and you- you liked it,” you cried out, sniffling as Billy used his thumbs to wipe away your tears. “The girls…the girls you saw us with?” Stu asked as you nodded, “you know we would never flirt with other people sweetheart, we promised you that it would just be us three,” Billy said as you whined. “But you guys always turn them down! You always, you always tell them you have a girlfriend and-“ a small hiccup left you as you sniffled once again, “you two always turn them down. But you didn’t! You just let them keep flirting with you,” you cried out, frowning as Billy did his best to keep up with all your tears. “Pretty girl, I am so sorry if we came off like we were enjoying it. I promise you we didn’t mean to. You know we only have the hots for you,” Stu said, trying to lighten the mood as you frowned. “But- you didn’t push them off of you…and-and Billy didn’t even realize that girl was trying to shove her boobs in his face and it just. I-it makes me feel like you two enjoyed it,” you said between broken cries, frowning as Stu tightened his hold.

“You know we only love you, sweetheart. You’re our only girl. There will never be another girl in our lives. I promise you that. I am sorry we didn’t realize they were flirting,” Billy said as you frowned, looking away from him as he slowly let go of your face. “Is there something we could do to make you feel better?” Stu asked, kissing your temple.

You shook your head, feeling comforted by his kiss. “Well, how about we order some good takeout, you can choose. Then we can watch any movie you want, and afterwards, we will prove to you you’re our only girl ever,” Billy said as he kissed your cheek. “Even if I have to kiss every single inch of your body, even if we have to tell you every single little thing we love about you from your eyes to every little beauty mark on your body, even if we have to spend the entire night cuddling you until you fall asleep, we’ll make you know you’re our only girl,” he reassured, smiling softly as he saw you try and hide a shy smile.

“We better get started on ordering takeout huh, seems like our pretty girl would love to be showered in kisses and told how much we love her,” Stu said as you looked up to him, giving a small nod. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, receiving a kiss on either cheek from the two. “Don’t apologize,” “you have nothing to be sorry about,” they reassured you as you sniffled.

#poly!ghostface x female reader #poly!ghostface x reader #poly!ghostface #scream 1996 #scream1996 #scream x reader #scream au #scream #billy loomis brainrot #billy x stu x reader #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #stu macher brainrot #stu macher x reader #stu macher #ghostface x reader #ghostface

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kisstuals · 2 years ago

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if blue could be happiness

PAIRING. na jaemin x female!reader WORD COUNT. 2.4k CONTAINS. angst, romance, actor!au WARNINGS. implied smut, just the reader being sad and in her head a lot, pretty reflective and retrospective, not much plot more emotions and vibes PLAYLIST. if blue could be happiness - florist | never goodbye - nct dream | liability - lorde NOTE. turns out i love complex female characters and depressing stories and men who fall harder… who is sensing a theme in my works? also im kinda back hahahaha hope everyone has been well xx. i’d say i’ll be more active now but i have a bad track record. that being said, please do give this some love and interact and let me know ur thoughts bc that will motivate me to be more active and post more things!!! would love to chat with you all <3

All you have ever known is being alone, so you can’t help but pull away when Jaemin comes into your life. Too bad he’s here to stay.

NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU LOVE TRAVELING, there is a wave of relief that hits you when the plane finally makes its descent in New York City. The tall buildings shimmer against the twilight sky, and even from so far away, you can sense the hustle and bustle of the always-busy city. You can imagine people getting off work after staying late, going into bars for happy hour. They laugh and giggle with their friends with a drink in their hands. New York City is always alive, and that’s why you love being there, as the fervor and excitement almost allows you to forget about how empty you feel all the time.

Despite that, there is a blue stillness around. A cloud of comfort, broken by a brief anticipation.

Your fingers curl around your seatbelt, waiting for the indication that you could finally take it off and leave the plane. It had been a month since you were last home, as you had been in Paris for the shoot of your upcoming movie. There is no doubt that your time there had been lovely, for you participated in every cliche there was for a Parisian tourist… eating too many croissants every day, visiting the Eiffel Tower, getting lost in the Louvre. The actual work you had gone to Paris for also concluded smoothly, but film shoots were never a problem for someone like you who actually enjoys their job.

None of that mattered though. You were aching to finally be home. It’s difficult to ignore your heart that is practically beating out of your chest, but that may be for reasons other than simply arriving back in your favorite city.

Reasons that are called Na Jaemin.

You wonder if he thought about you nearly as much as you did over the past month. And why would you, consider that you were the one who pushed him away. But you keep on wondering this as you leave the plane. He plagues your mind at the baggage claim, when you get into the car waiting for you, and the entire ride home. The buzz of your phone on the leather seat next to you is the only thing that pulls you out of your daze, eyes blindly following whatever buildings you could see in the distance. It was getting late, but New York never slept.

It buzzes again, and you finally blink before reaching for your phone. It’s a text from your sister, who had been house-sitting for you (or, more of an excuse to hang out in the city).

sister: he just showed up.

Your eyebrows furrow. The texts keep coming in

sister: (name). sister: JAEMIN IS HERE sister: when are you getting back?

Movements growing frantic, you quickly look outside for a landmark, realizing you were still pretty far from your apartment. And with the city traffic, it would at least be another hour.

you: WDYM HE’S HERE? you: i won’t be home for a while you: tell him to go wait in my room

She sends you a thumbs up and you sigh, leaning back into your seat to close your eyes in hopes of getting some rest. Your efforts prove to be futile, of course, because he’s all you can think about.

The first time you met him, you were drunk out of your mind. It was Ryujin’s party for actors to gather and mingle if you remembered correctly, but truthfully your memories of that night were pretty foggy. Everyone was dressed nicely and there was expensive liquor lining the countertops, but you ungracefully stumbled into Jaemin, a new and rising actor whose name was everywhere on the tabloids, in a corner somewhere. See, you were normally always on your best behavior, with perfectly styled hair, manicured nails, and hands folded politely. You never tripped over your own feet. You never spoke out of turn. You never did what you weren’t supposed to do, which was a long list considering you were an A-list actress with an image pristine like glass. People looked up to you.

So you had really no explanation for how Jaemin’s hands ended up around your waist, his lips chasing your own. Your body was hot against his, aching for his touch, and when you finally gave in, there was no stopping either of you. His lips moved ferociously against yours, lighting your skin on fire wherever they touched you.

It was no surprise you ended up in his bed later that night, but it was equally less of a surprise that you left the next morning before he could even wake up.

Yet, that was only the beginning. You seemed to run into him everywhere. At parties of mutual friends, you didn’t even realize you shared. At dress fittings, because the stylist for your next movie also happened to be his personal stylist. At the new coffee shop you decided to try out, and then realized was his favorite.

Suddenly, you couldn’t run away anymore. He was going to be in your life, whether you willed for it or not, so you entertained it for a brief minute. So you kissed him at parties and showed up at dress fittings with your hand in his. Every Sunday, you went to his favorite coffee shop together. You went to sleep in his bed and woke up in his arms. His name was linked to yours, and everyone talked about it, but you didn’t care. You had relinquished all control of your life.

It was great, until it wasn’t. Until he got too close, and you went too far.

That night, there was a downpour in New York City and you retreated back into the comforts of your home. Of the perfect, orderly life you built for yourself.

And the next morning, you left for Paris.

There is a tremble in your fingers as you enter the code to your apartment. Why was he here? You pushed him away, and then he was meant to stay away. People don’t usually try so hard to remain in your life. Probably because of how distant you keep your heart from them. Or maybe that’s why you began doing it in the first place. It’s been so long, you cannot even remember what came first.

Your sister greets you with a worried smile as you enter. She takes your coat from you and you take a moment to set down your belongings, including the large suitcase you had been hauling behind you. The longer you take to go into your room, the longer you have to prepare for whatever is about to happen.

“(Name). He’s been waiting.” Your sister says, looking pointedly at your room door. You’ve dug your toes so far into black boots that you are afraid they may appear at the other end. There is a fleeting touch of comfort on your shoulder before she walks away. With a sigh, you take off your shoes and arrange them neatly on the shoe rack.

In an apartment as big as yours, the walk to your room is shorter than you remember, but you know you cannot delay this any further. Jaemin is definitely aware of your presence, no matter how softly your clothed feet hit the wooden floor of your apartment, so you finally open the door.

Your heart stills when you see him. He’s sitting at the foot of your bed, wearing a fluffy brown jacket and a hat to match. It’s pretty obvious how he looks out of place against your cold, blue walls.

“Hi.” His smile is cautious like you might run away upon seeing him. His worries are not entirely absurd though, as you do consider backing away. But his eyes are warm, and you remember how much you are aching for his touch. You can’t help but take another step towards him.

“Hi.” Your voice cracks and he notices, but you both choose to ignore it.

“How was Paris?”

“It was good.” The temperature of your room must be near freezing, but somehow your words are colder. Jaemin winces, subtle yet noticeable, and stands up, rubbing his hands on his jeans. You pray that he doesn’t move any closer to you, as then you might actually run away, and somehow, he listens.

The heart is a silly little thing, because you find yourself disappointed at the distance between Jaemin and you, even though this ruin was your doing.

“(Name)...” You’re not sure what he’s going to say, but the deep breath he takes before speaking lets you know that you are not ready to hear it. Not yet.

“Sorry for making you wait. Got stuck in traffic.” You begin moving around the room to straighten up a few things that suddenly looked out of order, even though no one had entered your room while you were gone.

“Oh, uh, it’s okay.” His gaze follows your every move. “I hope your sister wasn’t uncomfortable with me just showing up.”

“No, not uncomfortable. Just surprised that you’re here.” Arranging your lipsticks from the darkest red to the lightest nude seemed like the perfect task at this moment, so you stand in the corner of your room farthest from Jaemin, hovering over your vanity.

He sighs. “Me too.”

This makes you glance back at him, eyebrows raised. “You are… also surprised that you’re here?”

“Yeah, considering how you just left me, why would I want to be here?” Jaemin is always honest, and you appreciate him for that, but you can’t ignore the guilt that pools in your stomach as you finally meet his eyes.

Your lips purse, and if you’re feeling anything, you don’t let it show. “Why are you here, then?”

This is the question that ultimately pushes him over the edge. Jaemin’s expression darkens as he finally closes the distance between you two, stopping just close enough so you could feel his breath against yours.

“You’re seriously asking me this? After everything?” He asks incredulously, his eyes searching for answers in your own

“I told you it was over.”

“Okay, but why?” You don’t answer, but you also don’t step away. “What are you afraid of?” Your lip quivers.

“Stop,” you whisper, as you feel your resolve starting to break. Jaemin takes a step back but keeps going.

“That I’ll break your heart? That I’ll leave you and go away?” He lets out an empty, pained laugh. “Well, isn’t that what you’ve done?”

“Jaemin, I–” You begin to speak, but now it’s his turn to cut you off.

“But despite all that, I still love you.” Your eyes widen, and an unknown, indescribable feeling overtakes your entire being. A single tear escapes you, of guilt, and fear, of love and longing.

The room is silent for a minute, and then another.

You are unsure of what the proper response to his confession should be, but whatever it is, you have messed it up already by waiting so long. You owe him an answer, because of everything you’ve put him through. Because you walked into his life, and then walked out, doing it first as you were afraid he would soon enough. But above all, because you loved him too, despite everything you had tried to convince yourself of.

“I’m sorry.” You aren’t sure how to put all your thoughts in words, so you decide to apologize first, instead. And even though it may be a deflection, you hope he realizes that it’s sincere.

But there’s disbelief in his eyes, and you hate that he doubts you, even though you’ve given him every reason to. “That’s it?”

“You’re right. I left because I wanted to do it before you could.” You continue, providing him with the honesty he deserved from day one. “I was so sure you would, because people always leave anyway, you know? They come into my life, I get used to them, then they leave, and I have to get used to life without them. There’s only so many times you can do that before you simply cannot anymore.”

Jaemin’s expression is unreadable as he considers what you said. “So, the solution was to push me away, even though I told you I wasn’t going anywhere that night?” Now his tone is neutral, and you are unable to figure out if he is mad, upset, or disappointed by your explanation.

“Do you know how many times I’ve been told that?”

You had always known that the film world was a lonely one. Your dad was a producer and your mom was an actress. They fell in love when they were twenty and fell out of love when they were twenty-five, with affairs and scandals galore. That left you and your sister, mere toddlers, stuck in the middle, as they threatened to leave each other. Eventually, they just left you. Despite all that, you chose to go down the same path, as the film world was the only world you knew. And then you went through it all over it again, as friends, boyfriends, managers, and mentors all came into your life, only to leave again. The only person who had stuck around was your sister, but because she had to.

Jaemin was the first person who ever wanted to be in your life, by choice.

“I should’ve been more clear then. If I had told you I loved you that night, would you have stayed?” He asks, his voice breaking.

“I don’t think anything would’ve stopped me that night,” you say quietly, remembering how quickly you booked a flight to Paris, and leaving one week earlier than you were originally supposed to for your shoot.

“And how about now?”

You look into Jaemin’s eyes and see only a love for yourself, despite everything, just as he said. And in that moment, the heaviness that you had been carrying around in your heart for as long as you can remember finally settles.

“I want to stay.” You admit.

“So what’s stopping you?”

The question that has plagued you forever now rises to your lips, in a bout of vulnerability you never saw for yourself. “Please don’t leave me.”

At that, Jaemin is immediately reaching for you, the touch that you had yearned for finally engulfing you. He gently cups your face, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’m here, aren’t I? And, I always will be. I won’t give up on us.” You nod, and return his touch, tugging on the collar of his jacket to pull him closer. “And if you leave, I’ll come after you, again and again, like I did today. I just needed to know that you want this as much as I do.”

“I love you.”

And then you kiss him like you never have before, like blue water in the forests of love. Because if blue could be happiness, that is all you ever want.

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getvalentined · 5 months ago

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27, 32 for Veld. 14, 17 for Vincent. 31, 42 for both.

[For the Random Character Asks game.]

27. Their guilty pleasure?

Veld really likes sleeping in. He really likes sleeping in. Especially if he should be doing something he doesn't want to do. He would stay in bed until noon if he could. He can't, of course, because he's Veld and that means he has things to do and places to be and fires to put out—work-based or otherwise—but every now and then, when he's pretty sure he doesn't have too much to do the next day, he'll intentionally turn all his alarms off, put his phone on silent, and wait for something or someone else to wake him before he bothers getting up. He always gets ready in a flash, grumbling about how he's running late and has things to do and so-and-so expected a call at eight, but it is a conscious decision on his part to do it, and he keeps doing it. Most of the people in his life know what's up, but they all play along anyway. Whatever makes him feel better.

32. Something guaranteed to make them smile/laugh?

Veld doesn't overtly express humor very often, but he's super weak to schadenfreude. He'll laugh until he has a stitch in both sides watching people get scared when there isn't actually any danger. Pranks, scarehouses, you know what I mean—that kind of thing cracks him up every time.

14. Most heroic moment?

Vincent's most heroic moment, in my opinion, is when he physically held Omega down to keep it from escaping the planet, and literally cracked it open to make sure the portion of the Lifestream it had stolen came back to ground. He definitely had no idea whether he would actually die on reentry, continue to exist in a perpetual state of atomized pain, or eventually regenerate Minerva knows where—much less whether he would regenerate as himself, physically, or just be stuck in Chaos' shape forever—but he did it. Badass. I love that guy.

17. Quotes, songs, poems, etc. that I associate with them

I have way too many songs I associate with Vincent, although there's a pretty solid sampling in the Nibelheim Doom Triangle playlist.

And here's a handful of my top Vincent songs not included in that playlist:

Little Lion Man — Mumford and Sons — Weep for yourself, my man, you'll never be what is in your heart / Weep, little lion man, you're not as brave as you were at the start / Rate yourself and rake yourself, take all the courage you have left / Waste it on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head

Whatever I Fear — Toad the Wet Sprocket — Did we expect these things to change / By waking up and suddenly there they are? / And all I need's a startin' place / And nothing ever seemed so hard

Factories — Autoheart — I am bride and groom in a darkened room / Marrying anguish with one last wish / Will you and I make a breakthrough? / I have visited factories to see / The best way to put together me / Will you and I ever feel brand new?

Your Biggest Mistake — Ellie Goulding — Wipe the mud spray from your face / Stop the engine, stop pretending / Wipe the mud spray from your face / Stop the engine, yeah, stop pretending / That you're still breathing

All At Sea — Richard Walters — Hold me, fold me up in your arms / Faster, my love, sinking and gone / Hold me, my love / Telling me "Don't be afraid" / "Wouldn't you want me to swim?" / "Wouldn't you want me to stay?"

31. If they had a tumblr what would it look like?

I'm gonna be honest, neither Vincent nor Veld would have social media unless they were somehow forced into it by someone extremely important to them, and then they would never use it. Two empty accounts.

42. Three comfort items?

Veld: A Queen's Blood championship medal that Vincent left behind (along with all his other stuff, they lived together) when he went to Nibelheim, a ponybead bracelet that Felicia made for him at school when she was 6, and his old director's lapel pin from before he left the Turks.

Vincent: Unfortunately Vincent doesn't really have many belongings anymore, so his pool of options is very limited. Postpostcanon, Vincent keeps everyone else's stuff in various safehouses he's put together all over the planet, and at that point his comfort items include the Fenrir ornament from Cloud's pauldron, a string of beads that Nanaki used to wear in his mane, and the crown off the last Cait Sith unit, who shut down roughly one minute after Reeve passed away and couldn't be reactivated.

#veld of the turks #vincent valentine #headcanon warning #ask game #vinveld #strifentine #nashi's tunes

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curator-on-ao3 · 1 year ago

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for the director's cut thing, i would LOVE to hear you talk about the light before dawn! (sorry if you've already done it lol) it's one of my absolute all time favourite pikeuna fics <3

Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Thank you so much, @belannaswlonkderfulworm!! ❤️ That’s so kind of you and deeply meaningful for me. 🥹

To explain: The Light Before Dawn lives in my heart. I started writing that multi-chap during Strange New Worlds’ first season and I think about it often with so much affection. I know fandom wisdom is people don’t like modern AUs, but I wanted to write it anyway. Something about that story just needed to be told.

I began by trying to figure out Una’s secret. I would have liked to have made her in the United States illegally, but then marriage could fix her problem and I didn’t want that pressure on her and Chris’ relationship. I also considered making Una trans, but I don’t feel qualified to write that experience. There was the option of making her a religious or ethnic minority, but then she would hopefully have a community and not be so alone. The idea of genetic engineering correlating to medical device implantation and ableism finally hit me and really resonated.

For Chris, my first idea was that he could be an equine therapist. But that didn’t work out geographically and, once I figured out Una’s secret, I also decided I didn’t want Chris in any kind of medical profession. (That’s why Joseph and Christine are barely in the story.) Making Chris a modern-day peacemaker seemed right.

Once I had the facts straight, the story had one rule — nothing bad could happen during the course of the narrative. This would be a story about emotional recovery from trauma. Even misunderstandings (like the one Una and La’an had) would be in the service of recovery. I feel like that came through, in part because one of the story bookmarks has the note “comfort in words.” I’ll tell you right now that there are times when I’ve had a shitty day, I look at or think about that bookmark and it helps me feel better that my words were able to comfort someone.

All that being said, there was so much I wanted to fit into that story and couldn’t:

I had this idea in my head that when Chris and Vina got divorced, Chris wore brown loafers with tassels to Family Court because he knew Vina hated those shoes … and he felt guilty at doing something so petty, but also free from trying to please her. As Chris made his way down the front steps of the court after the divorce was finalized, he nearly danced on the concrete with the shoes his wife — ex-wife — hated.

Speaking of Vina … there are songs on my fic playlist for Vina, a character who doesn’t even appear except for Chris mentioning her. But I have so many thoughts about Vina’s frustration with Chris, her pain at him pulling away from a life she thought was good. Vina, a financial planner, helps money make more money. She shops at chic stores and pays too much for haircuts. She moved to SoHo after the divorce and doesn’t really enjoy sex with her dates but does it to reassure herself that she’s “normal” and “fun” and “cool” because all of that is so desperately important to her. I hope she snaps out of her need to impress others, I really do, because Vina’s life could be better if she just lived it for herself.

I considered including that in the mornings when Chris’ light didn’t go on that he was at Judge Batel’s place feeling like absolute garbage. But then who discriminated against Una and cost Una her dream? It got too messy so I just left Batel out and I’m glad I did.

I was going to have the kitchen renovation company belong to Hemmer but when the show killed him, I nixed that.

At the last minute, I edited out a part where Una told Chris that when she was little and her parents would drive past the garbage dump, she would get scared they would drop her off there and leave her. But that was just too sad, even in the past.

In the universe of the story, Rukiya 100% lives to be an adult. There is no cygnokemia in New York City. After they read and run around at the park, Joseph and Rukiya go home to Debra and the family plays board games until it’s time for dinner.

In terms of good stuff, I’m really pleased with some of the details in that story — Una’s nail polish bottles, Chris’ Eagle Scout award (the highest award in Boy Scouts), those two discussing leaky scaffolding (a relatable New York City experience), the reveal of what happened to Gabriel Lorca. Also, I know I’m biased, but when Una set the stars at the planetarium to Mojave, California, so she could see what the sky looked like for Chris when he was a child at night, I think that’s so goddamn romantic of her.

I’m less pleased with my decision to have Una’s quick conversation in the mail room be with a nameless neighbor. My original thought was the neighbor could be any one of the Discovery women — Kat Cornwell, Michael Burnham, Phillipa Georgiou, etc. Meh. Then I wrote and deleted a whole section that made clear the neighbor was Christine Chapel. Maybe I should have kept that and removed the fleeting Chapel reference later. I’m not sure.

I stand by the Spirk joke at the end, though.

I also stand by Una not being a model patient. She’s mostly good about things, but she doesn’t always carry her card with her … just like a real person. And I am gleeful that Eagle Scout Mr. Moral Compass Christopher Pike uses the work printer for personal documents because, come on, we all do it.

Oof, I could keep talking about this story but I should stop. Thank you for this absolutely lovely opportunity, @belannaswlonkderfulworm, I’ve enjoyed every second of babbling about my beloved The Light Before Dawn. ❤️

Want more information about a fic I wrote? Send me an ask.

#fanfic director’s cut #i love asks #christopher pike #una chin riley #star trek strange new worlds #pikeuna #pikeuna fanfic #pikeone #pikeone fanfic #thank you thank you thank you #belannaswlonkderfulworm

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lullabyalikpoptarot · 3 months ago

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I just saw what you answered about The karmicDF Thank you for mentioning her. That's the type of stuff I also watch Did not know her. Will certainly deep dive into her videos.

And I've seen on reddit or somewhere one person who worked in industry saying that not all idols are in this cult rituals thing. But maybe 10 of them or so I always wondered how many and who exactly. And if one reader will ever deep dive into it. But I guess some overly loyal and blinded fans will report you very quickly.

When we blindly follow someone. After all I work in therapy and this is what we know:

Many fans experience identity fusion—a deep sense of merging their personal identity with the celebrity or fandom. Their self-image, beliefs, sense of purpose become strongly intertwined with their idol, leading them to see any attack on the celebrity as an attack on themselves.

They may also find a community among like-minded fans. This bond strengthens their commitment to defending the celebrity, as they risk losing part of their identity and social network if they question or abandon the fandom.

Parasocial relationships are one-sided emotional attachments where fans feel as though they know the celebrity personally. The fan often views the celebrity as flawless or as someone who represents their own ideal self, dismissing any negative information that might disrupt this perfect image.

Idealization - put the celebrity on a pedestal, often projecting positive qualities onto them, whether real or imagined. This defense mechanism helps them maintain an illusion of closeness and admiration.

When faced with evidence that contradicts their view of the celebrity, fans experience cognitive dissonance—a psychological discomfort that occurs when reality doesn’t align with their beliefs. To reduce this discomfort, they engage in motivated reasoning, where they selectively accept information that supports their view and reject or rationalize anything that challenges it.

They might dismiss scandals as misunderstandings, blame accusers, or interpret evidence in a way that favors their idol. This allows them to avoid the discomfort of admitting that their idol may be flawed or guilty of wrongdoing.

Fans find emotional comfort and escape. This connection can act as a safe haven from their own problems, and defending the celebrity becomes a coping mechanism.

Letting go of or criticizing the celebrity would disrupt this escape, which leave them feeling more vulnerable or anxious about their own lives.

Fans often develop a strong in-group (fandom) vs. out-group (critics or non-fans) mentality, where they view the celebrity and other fans as “us” and critics as “them.” This mindset can create an “us against the world” attitude, reinforcing loyalty and intensifying defensiveness.

Group loyalty becomes a reason to defend the celebrity, even if the fan is privately unsure, because criticizing them would feel like a betrayal of their “team.”

Confirmation bias plays a significant role in reinforcing a fan's beliefs. Fans actively seek out and absorb information that supports their positive view while ignoring, downplaying, or discrediting anything negative.

For some fans, loyalty to their celebrity idol becomes a measure of their own self-worth. They may feel that “true fans” stand by their idols through everything, and abandoning them would reflect poorly on their character. This sense of duty or honor makes them defend their celebrity, seeing it as proof of their integrity.

Oh wow, fascinating stuff here, love this message and yes, watch her, she even goes into all the Diddy stuff and exposing all the celebrities supposedly involved in that, she has a playlist of it, it is wild.

Yeah, people will just say I am a conspiracy theorist and maybe at this point I am, but I feel now, that every conspiracy comes from some semblance of truth. Not the whole truth, but her readings have opened my eyes. I don't how one can come to a number with all these idols roaming around though lol

I agree, not all, and maybe most are not involved, I don't get that vibe, like a recent reading I did on an idol for this weekend showed he is not involved in that, so they aren't all into that. There are also some Western celebrities who found a way to escape it, but they are most likely not at the top, more mid-tier. I feel their way of doing things in the idol industry are quite different, but the control they have on these idols are the same. The industry loves to control and limit these people. Like they have all that money and fame, but lack of freedom. I mean, we all do to some extent, but theirs is worse.

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andydrysdalerogers · 9 months ago

Text

Undercover ~ Six ~ We Have A Problem...

Pairings: Jake Jensen and OFC Samantha Matthews

The Losers have made it back to their families and are out. Well, almost. A threat against the British crown needs to be handled and the CIA has tapped the Losers for one final mission. And they are sending in Jensen.

Jake Jensen hasn't been a civilian in years but now he's undercover to find out why his target is where he is and who he's after.

Enter Sam, someone who Jake doesn't expect and well, he didn't know he was looking for.

Can Jake handle his mission and falling in love? Especially when the truth leads to a bigger mission than expected?

*~* A Jake Jensen Story *~*

Author's note: this story continues after the events of the Losers. I may weave other characters into it but they are all minor. THE TAGLIST IS OPEN.

The playlist is available on Spotify.

cover photo by me! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Warnings: angst, death, smut, and a bunch of stuff a can’t say because it gives away the plot!

Previous: Five ~ My Girl

Story Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Samantha has always been a heavy sleeper. Only her alarm clock ever woke her up. Until today. She feels like she is being tickled on her neck and shoulders. She sighs sleepily, moving to get comfortable again. And then she hears it.

“Morning, gorgeous.”

Her eyes are still closed but she smiles as Jake continues to press kisses on her skin. All of the memories and sensations from the night before flooded back and she could feel her cheeks warm. She turns to look at Jake. His glasses are off, but his cheeks are slightly more stubble now and she can study his eyes better. “I’ve never noticed,” she whispered.

“What?” He whispered back, making her giggle.

“Your eyes. They have a bit of green in them. Like the ocean. It's beautiful.”

Jake begins to blush, but Sam cups his cheek, and he stares into her eyes. He moves over and presses a sweet kiss to her lips. They kiss for a bit before he pulls back. “I don’t know how I got so lucky to find you.”

“And here I was thinking the same thing,” Sam replied. Jake smiled as he led her back onto her back. He ran his hand down her side, eliciting goose bumps over her skin.

“Can I love on you, princess?” Jake bit his lower lip, waiting for her to answer.

Sam blushed and trembled slightly at his words. Her father was the only one who really called her princess when she was little but now, the title has taken on a whole new meaning. She nodded as Jake grinned and proceeded to kiss the life out of her. He was gentle this time, like he knew she was sore. He slotted himself between her legs but stopped.

“Fuck, I don’t... we have to stop.” Jake’s smile fell until Sam held him closer, surprising him.

“I’m clean and have birth control,” she said.

“I’m clean too.” Jake smiled as he teased her. When she began to whine, he placed the tip at her entrance and just barely pushed in, earning him a gasp. He slowly, methodically filled her so by the time he was buried to the hilt, she was frustrated to hell.

“Jake, I swear...” she stopped as he withdrew his hip and then filled her again. Torture. That was his plan. Pure unadulterated torture. This went on for a while, until he saw a tear slip.

“Princess, are you ok?”

“No”. She sobbed, “I need more Jake, please, I can’t take it anymore.”

He smiled and started to speed up. Not the pounding he gave her the night before but still powerful. “How’s that gorgeous? Like me hitting deep inside you?” She nodded. “I can tell because you are gripping me hard. Are you close?”

“So close JJ, just, oh fuck.” She was on the brink. Jake slid his hand down her torso and to her clit, rubbing just hard enough to take her over the edge. “Jake!”

He watched the pleasure wash over her face and that set him off, cumming in her, his cock pulsing as he pumped her full. Finally, he slowed and kissed her softly. “Now that’s a wakeup call.”

Sam giggled, “it sure is. Breakfast?”

“Yes, please.” Jake slowly pulled out and went to the bathroom. He cleaned up and grabbed a washcloth for Sam. He cleaned her gently, knowing she was sensitive. He pulled on his boxers as she reached for his shirt and slipped it on. She pulled on clean panties and walked out of the room with a sway to her hips.

Jake thought his cock was soft. It was not.

As they finished cooking breakfast together, Jake’s cell phone rang from the living room. He licked his fingers of the pancake batter. “Plate that up babe, I’ll be right back.” He headed to the living room and saw that it was Clay calling. Jake looked back at the kitchen and answered. “Hey?”

“Jensen, where are you?”

“Out.”

“With the girl?”

Jake hesitated. “No?”

“Don’t lie to me, Jake. Cougar tailed you just in case the accounting prick followed you.”

He sighed. “Look Colonel...”

Clay cut him off. “Don’t call me that. Look, I don’t care. If she makes you happy, then that is great. I had another reason for calling. We need to meet. ASAP.”

Jake looked at the kitchen where Sam was holding two plates and a smile that could literally make him do anything for her. “I can meet in three hours.”

“Copy. And Jake... have fun.”

Jake set his phone down and headed back to her. She saw a flicker of apprehension and she frowned. “Everything ok, JJ?”

He saw the frown and panicked. “Everything is good princess. I forgot that I was supposed to meet with my old unit for lunch.” He sighed. “I don’t want to leave you though. “ He kissed her cheek.

“Oh, baby if you have plans, that's fine. I should, uh, clean up,” she blushed a light pink. “You could always come back after. I mean, if you want. No pressure or anything...” her ramble was cut off by Jake’s lips.

He let go and cupped her cheek, thumbing her cheek. “Oh course, I want to come back. Let’s eat, I’ll help you clean up breakfast, I’ll go meet the losers and pick up a bag. Sound good?”

“It sounds perfect. I’ll cook you something.” She reached up to kiss him softly.

“Looking forward to it.”

The Losers were all standing around in a graveyard, waiting for Jensen to show. Pooch kept looking back at Clay and Aisha. “Is anyone else having a sense of déjà vu?”

“How do you mean?” Aisha looked at his curiously as Cougar shrugged.

“I mean, I feel like I’ve done this before.” He looked around at all the headstones.

“Where is Jensen?” Clay asked, interrupting Pooch.

“Right here,” Jake replied, surprising the team. “What’s up?”

“Jesus,” Pooch muttered. “When did you become stealthy?”

“I’m just having a sense of calm Poochy. Life is great, the world is great, I am awesome, and I’ve got a girl. Life is perfect.”

“Ok perfect boy, you may want to pay attention,” Clay said as Cougar snickered. “We’ve been reviewing, oof,” as Aisha elbowed him, “sorry, Aisha’s been analyzing the data you had gotten us.”

Aisha cleared her throat. “Yeah, Fitzgerald is smart. He hasn’t been using his work computer a ton for this side project. Just a couple of times he’s done a search under 30 seconds that shows a record that he searched but not what he is searching for.”

“Shit,” Jake mumbles. “I’ll need to do a direct search on the network. I have a program I can use, so I can login on Monday and get to Fitzgerald’s computer. I can meet you after work on Monday with whatever I find.”

“Perfect.” Clay looks at his team. “Cougar, you are still on his tail,” looking at Jake. “Pooch, you’re with us to check out Fitzgerald’s home while they are at work.”

“Pooch, you need to watch for any trip wires or lasers,” Jake reminded him. “I will remote drop his security at 0900 on Monday as planned.”

“Let’s move out,” Clay said. As the team leaves, he pulls Jensen aside. “How’s the girl?”

“The girl’s name is Sam and she’s great. She likes me for me.” Jake shrugs. “I’ve never had this before.”

“I was going to tell you to make sure to NOT be yourself,” Clay joked, clapping Jake’s back. “Just make sure you keep your eye on the prize, ok? We don’t want Sam to be hurt in the crossfire if this goes sideways.”

“Understood Colonel.”

“Don’t call me that.”

The rest of the weekend was uneventful. Well, if you don’t count all the sex that Jake and Sam were having. They were having fun, getting to know each other, inside and out. Sam cooked a steak and potatoes meal that had Jake swooning.

As Monday morning approached, Jake drove the pair into the office. Sam was nervous. The last time she walked into the office with a boyfriend was with Terry and that was not a great memory. Her leg bounced on the seat faster and faster as they got close. “Everything ok, princess?”

“I’m fine,” she squeaked.

“Talk to me.”

She sighed. “The last time I came into the office with a man, had been my last boyfriend. Terry. We broke up that same day.” She looked down at her hands but was surprised with Jake slid his own into hers.

“If you want to walk alone, I understand. I have never worked with a girlfriend before, so I don’t know how this works.”

She looked up at him and blinked rapidly. “Girlfriend?”

Jake realized his mistake and swallowed hard. “I mean, I want you... if you are comfortable, but if not...” he continued to ramble until he noticed the sparkle in her eye. He groaned and tilted his head back. “You’re fucking with me?”

“A little bit,” she replied with a bite to her lip to suppress her smile. “JJ, I would love to walk into the office with you as your girlfriend as long as I can call you, my boyfriend.”

Jake thought he would combust with how good it felt to have Sam say she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. He pulled her over the center console for a sweet kiss. “Let’s get to work Princess.”

Walking in, Jake took Sam’s hand and guided her to the elevators. He could feel the nerves coming from her and he squeezed it gently. They walked out onto the floor... with Jake’s entire team watching. Jake pointily ignored them and walked Sam to her desk. “Lunch?”

“Absolutely.” Sam smiled and looked up at him. Jake leaned down and gave a soft kiss. “See you later Princess.”

“Bye JJ,” she flushed and sat at her desk to take a moment.

Jake walked into his area, a slight strut in his step. He went to his desk and started to get set up with for the day, fully understanding that his team was staring at him. He hummed to himself as he waited for his laptop to boot up. “Boss?” Jake turned to see Fred standing right behind him.

“Need something?”

“Yea,” he ran his hand through his longish hair. “How?”

“How what?”

“How did you land the most beautiful girl I have ever seen?” Fred’s face changed from questioning to awe. “Like Sam, she is a dime, and she is so nice, but she doesn’t date. I saw her turn down that British guy in accounting.”

Jake clenched his jaw a bit but remained calm. “Look, all I did, was be myself. Turns out she likes it.” He smiled and gave a shrug. “She’s amazing.”

“She got a sister?” Dave asked.

“Sorry, just an older brother. Let’s run it down guys,” getting them together so they were up to speed with the day's work.

As the team broke to get to work, Jensen loaded his detection program into his secondary laptop. He checked to see if anyone was looking before loading the program, connected it to the office network and found Fitzgerald’s terminal. Jake quickly looked through and found hidden files. “Jackpot,” he said to himself.

Copying the files to his laptop, he quickly backed out before he was detected. After his standing coffee with Sam, he went back to his investigation. Just as he was about to give up, a line-item transaction search caught his eye.

Search: The Duchy of Manchester.

Jake didn’t know much about the royal family, so he jumped on Google. Searching through, he saw the articles of the King stepping down to his son Prince Anthony in just a few months' time. Jake made note of it and continued but there was no mention of a Duke of Manchester anywhere. He sent the information to Clay.

Clay came back quickly.

There is no Duke but there is an account set up for the Duchy of Manchester. It’s a shell.

Jake sat back. What the hell was Fitzgerald up to?

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki