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seiwas · 11 months ago

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if art can be touched, will you let me hold you? | nanami kento

wc: 7.2k

summary: you press love into each piece of art you create, and nanami wonders if you’ve ever been loved that way.

contains: f!reader, non-curse!au, ceramic artist!reader, pov switching, slowburn, reader wears a skirt, food mentions, bad breakup (mentioned), mentions of art critiques, almost explicit sex, it’s love without words.

a/n: a concept and fic i didn’t expect would be so dear to me; there are some very small personal touches in this but the main inspiration for this is ‘we’ve been loving in silence’, but some bgm are ‘can’t take my eyes off you’, and ‘make you feel my love’.

ao3 (needs account)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: showing ‘i love you’ in all the ways you aren’t used to

CLAY. Take your material of choice; turn it over, get a feel of it. Is it a suitable medium for your art?

You first meet Nanami in the halls of an echoing applause.

The host’s spiel is muffled through the walls, but you know the program flow like the back of your hand—you’ve rehearsed your entrance every single day since being invited to announce your upcoming exhibit. In just a few minutes, your name will be called.

Yellow cue cards slip through your fingers, scattering to the floor as a result of the haste from your last minute touch-up just moments before.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, checking the time.

As you crouch low, a pair of brown Derby shoes land in front of you—long and thick fingers reaching for your cue cards on the floor. The time on his wrist matches yours, each second highlighted in the stark contrast of a dark face and silver exterior.

You’re quick to receive his help, taking the cards into your hands as you lightly graze his fingertips. When you look up, you’re met with sharp lines—an angular jaw, eyebrows set straight; a pointed nose and his cheeks carving out hollow shadows.

A geometric study on blank canvas.

It’s embarrassing, the way you fluster and bow, thanking him with a stutter as you’re brought back to the urgency of the matter by the sound of your name being called out.

The rush to the conference hall has you breathing heavily, the nerves hitting you full force as you step up the stage, nearly tripping at the last step. Hues of blue, yellow, purple, and green lights glare at you, and when the host hands you the microphone, you chuckle nervously, clearing your throat before addressing everyone in the room to thank them for coming this afternoon.

Your exhibit is called ‘What is the Face of an (Un)Touched Soul?’—a collection of ceramic sculptures molded to the realism of a human face, with the soul imagined as varying patterns and colors that fit each featured individual.

It’s been half a year since you started, with three out of six sculptures completed already. Two are in-progress, and you have yet to find a subject for one more; there are six more months for you to complete everything.

The audience sounds their applause, sophisticated claps and nods a familiar tune in the many years of your sculpting career. Critics in the room jot down their thoughts, reporters holding up microphones and recording devices to cover your announcement.

You smile wide, the rehearsed kind.

And at the end of your presentation, stepping down the stage, you spot him again.

You think to approach him in that moment, to thank him properly instead of the fumbling mess you’d choked out in the hallway—but you’re pulled towards a crowd of reporters and critics, recording devices pushed just below your chin as you watch him disappear into a sea of faces not nearly as interesting as his.

You meet Nanami again in the bustling morning rush at the bakery near your studio.

The past few weeks have been head-down and tedious, late nights working on painting some of the last few pieces for your exhibit. One of them is of your niece, 5-years-old in mint and white innocence; your brushstrokes are featherlight, softly accentuated by sponge dabs—a slate barely filled in, with room for more colors to appear with time.

Another is of your neighbor, an old man whose eyes have seen war beyond your comprehension—a retired soldier, a veteran of the military force. He plants primroses by his windowsill, the pastel yellow a stark contrast to the life he’s lived in red; neither of the colors cancel each other out, neither of them blend. You drag harsh strokes against his jawbone while smoothly gliding watercolor across his eyelids.

The people in your sculptures have sparked an untapped curiosity within you—for stories, for lives, for souls and what those might look like.

You bump into Nanami on his way out, the sandwich in his hand falling to the ground as you frantically attempt to pick it up.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” you turn over the sandwich, checking for any holes or openings in its packaging, “Let me–”

It only registers that it’s him when you notice the same brown Derby shoes, the same watch with that dark face and silver exterior, the same geometric perfection on his face when you look up and finally come eye-to-eye with that same fixed stare.

You clear your throat. Well, this is embarrassing.

“Let me buy you another sandwich.”

He doesn’t exactly look angry, expression set in straight lines, but you can’t tell for sure—there isn’t much you can go by.

“There’s no need,” he dusts off the wrapper, “it’s still sealed.”

“Please, I insist,” you pat down your skirt, linen rough on your fingertips, “As a thank you too, for last time.”

He arches a brow, and for a moment you worry that you’ve remembered him wrong—honey blonde hair and features you’ve been intrigued by since.

“You insist.” he repeats, clarifying more than questioning.

You nod.

He sighs, checking his watch before pocketing his sandwich and turning back to open the bakery doors.

The silence in line to the counter is awkward. Nanami remains impassive, hand tucked inside his pocket—you can’t read a single thing about him.

“I was meaning to thank you after the exhibit announcement,” you start, turning slightly to face him before looking ahead again.

He hums.

“But I couldn’t find you, so…”

He hums again.

The lack of response makes you nervous and quite honestly a bit irritated. Here you are, trying to be nice, and all you’re met with are dry—

“It’s no problem, but that’s thoughtful of you, thank you.” he finally says, “I didn’t expect you to remember.”

A pause.

“I’m sure you meet a lot of faces in your line of work.” he further clarifies, in case his earlier remark had offended you.

You snort, “I wish.”

The line moves forward.

“Ceramic faces, maybe. People not so much.”

When you glance at Nanami, the look he returns is still characteristically inscrutable, but you think the corners of his eyes soften just a bit—to feel for you maybe, you hope, you think.

The line moves quickly after that, and next thing you know it, you’re by the cashier, pointing at one sandwich for you and another for him. You buy him a cup of coffee too, just as an extra kind gesture (—for his time; you’re sure he has places to be and people to see), but he stops you.

“Coffee’s on me.” he pulls out his card.

“Oh,” you look up, surprised, “you don’t have to do that—”

“It’s only fair,” he nods as the cashier punches in the order, “now we’re even.”

You attempt to rebut, but find no room for argument in the unbending weight of his gaze.

An interesting man.

You watch him stand by the claiming booth, hand in the pocket of his khaki suit. Nothing about him feels cohesive, yet he makes it work. Artistically, from a sculpting standpoint, the sharp lines on his face would be an interesting challenge—but beautiful, nonetheless. A study of near-perfection, you think.

And it would seem obvious, that from the rigid cut of his jaw and the sharp edges of his cheekbones that he’d act just as pointed.

Except, he doesn’t—a stark contrast to how much of a gentleman he seems to be.

His blue shirt stands out when you’d assume he prefers subtlety, and it’s ridiculous, but that yellow cow print tie feels simultaneously out of place but so fitting.

He walks toward you with your coffee, sandwich resting on his forearm.

“Thank you, Mr.—” you smile sheepishly, “Sorry, I don’t think I got your name.”

“Nanami Kento.” the corners of his lips lift slightly.

“Mr. Nanami,” you repeat, introducing yourself right after.

“Thank you as well.” he adds on as you both walk towards the doors.

Something tells you this is a missed opportunity. Something tells you there’s more to learn about this interesting man and what lies beneath his straight-faced sincerity.

The chatter from the bakery is replaced by the city’s breaths—cars passing, dogs barking, footsteps on pavement rushing to get to their next destination. And you and Nanami stand by the entrance, neither knowing how to say bye.

“Do you come to this–”

“My studio is just by the corner, so–”

You quickly look at each other. Nanami bows his head slightly, hand gesturing for you to go first.

“Sorry, um,” you tuck your sandwich in the crook of your elbow, “yes, I come here pretty often. My studio is just around the corner, so I drop by for quick meals when I can. You?”

“It’s on the way to work most days.”

You nod, humming.

Another awkward pause.

“I hope you–”

“I should get–”

You look at each other again, a bit more amused this time. The slight wrinkling of his eyes is impossible to hide.

He gestures for you to go first again, but you shake your head, offering him instead.

“I hope the pieces for your exhibit are going well.”

“Thank you,” you smile, bowing your head slightly.

That ‘something’ in your brain speaks to you again.

“Actually,” you begin, “sorry if this is weird, please feel free to decline, but,” you shift your weight, “I have one last piece to do and I was wondering if I could ask you.”

Nanami looks taken aback for a moment, eyes wider than normal as he processes what you’d just said.

“Ask me… for an opinion?” he clarifies.

You mentally facepalm yourself—you really should have made yourself clearer.

“Sorry, no, I meant,” you take a deep breath, fingers fiddling with your skirt, “if you’d like to be the subject for it.”

The expression on his face is as indecipherable as ever.

MOLD. Be familiar with your art, learn more of its intricacies. What will you shape it to be?

In the most unexpected play of events, Nanami says yes, but not without his hesitations.

You explain your process: the selection of a subject, an interview to get to know them better, then a few meetings at the studio to create the mold of facial features before coating it in plaster.

Never in his entire law career did Nanami ever think he would be into art, much more be chosen to be the subject for it. But he figures, if anyone were to get him to do things so wholly out of character like this, it would be you.

After all, he’s been a fan of your works for a while—from your third exhibit up to your seventh one now.

People love paintings and the strokes on canvas, admiring textures and blends of colors bleeding into one another; Nanami loves sculptures, a mixture of materials and techniques forming an object with more than one viewing plane.

“Have you always loved sculpting?” he asks, sitting still on the wooden stool in your studio.

A few meetings have gone by by now, and he’s told you a few things about himself for this to be a comfortable enough way to spend his Friday night: he’s a lawyer in a firm he’s co-founded with a good friend, evenings being the only free time in his schedule; he lives alone in a two-bedroom apartment and his neighbor’s cat often lands on his balcony every morning; he likes coffee and tea, paperback books and music from the 30’s and 60’s.

He chose to be a lawyer to correct the shitty system that’s vowed to help but has instead made it difficult for anyone genuinely trying to be good.

“I started with paper craft first,” you mold out the slope of his nose, looking back and forth between him and the mass of clay on your desk, “you know that 3D looking paper art that kinda pops out of the page?”

He hums instead, careful of any slight movement that may disrupt the pose you’re trying to replicate.

“And this?”

Your metal scraper drags on the sides of the sculpture’s nose, sharpening it as it narrows to the bridge.

“I picked it up in college, was an outlet to keep me company during that time.”

The PR answer.

Nanami knows most of your general story; pamphlets and exhibits always give a run-down of the artists’ individual histories. You’d started sculpting as soon as you entered college, a need for company while in a completely unfamiliar place with no more home to return to. It was all or nothing, and as the sculptures grew in number, so did your popularity—you are by no means a fresh name to the scene 10 years later.

“Why do you love it?” he looks you in the eye.

You pause, holding his gaze for a few seconds before looking away, focusing on the chunk of wet clay between your fingertips as it turns more pliable.

“It’s gotten me through a lot.” you sigh, attaching the piece of clay to form his lips, “Touching clay feels therapeutic sometimes, and you can tell from how it looks if it’s been molded with love.”

The stillness in your studio is extra quiet, filled only with the faint sounds of your fingertips sticking onto clay; he doesn’t quite know what to say.

“Sorry, that was cheesy.” you scrunch your nose and pout.

He chuckles, a low laugh, “Not at all.”

You lock eyes, the curve of your lips upturned. He feels his eyes soften around its edges.

It makes sense, and he thinks he can understand; there must be a reason why he loves books with creased spines, why he prefers weathered pages—why the scratches on his vinyl records don’t bother him as much as it should.

You both like your coffee without milk, just with a bit of sugar for yours.

Nanami’s taken up baking, specifically breadmaking, in his spare time—he brings you sourdough the next Friday you meet.

Your studio is an organized mess, scraps of clay decorating the otherwise bare and white space. To the left of the room is a large cork board filled with pinned sketches and some color swatches—a visual representation of the creative chaos in your mind.

A whiteboard to its right holds your schedule, and everywhere across the room are your art pieces—on shelves, in glass cases. He assumes most of them are the versions that didn’t make it, considering that the ones that have are either auctioned off or left as collector’s pieces in exhibits and art museums.

“That’s the first one I ever made.” you sneak up behind him, biting off the sandwich you hastily put together.

The sculpture is smaller than the busts you’ve made for your current exhibit, but it still occupies a third of your shelf. It’s unlike any of the works you’ve ever done, but he supposes it makes sense, given how much your style has probably evolved over time.

The piece is a lot simpler in comparison to the edgy twists most of your works now contain, but the little girl fast asleep in the sculpture begs questions he’s not sure how to ask you—if he even should.

He continues to stare, clearing his throat; you eye him knowingly and snort.

“Just ask, I know you want to.”

The texture of the carved blanket catches his eyes, the ripples and creases made to conform to the girl’s curled up figure. There’s a sadness underlying her comfort, a search for security while being wrapped in a bundle of safety.

“Who is it?” he asks.

You pause before you answer; he’s worried he’s crossed a line.

“Me.” you admit, a near-whisper.

He hums, back still faced towards you. It explains, then, why he’s always felt an underlying sadness beneath the creases of your smiles.

When he turns his face to the side, an attempt to catch your eyes, you look away, diverting.

“Which one introduced you to me?” you gesture towards the rest of your pieces.

As it’s come to be, Nanami’s learned that you’re good at that too—creating curves of deflections, pockets where you can hide when you feel something’s gotten too close.

He plays along, turning around to view the expanse of your studio; it’s amazing, how the art pieces that stack shelf upon shelf all boil down to your hard work. You briefly mentioned that you haven’t taken a break from creating because you still don’t believe you deserve it.

“It’s not here,” he puts his hands in his pockets, “the one with the hand clutching a heart.”

‘Unhand’—his favorite piece of yours; he’d seen it in one of the museums he had to visit for one of his clients. Hyperrealistic branches of veins and arteries running across an anatomical heart, every curve and indent a carefully placed texture to bring your piece to life. It comes clenched in a hand, the veins streaming across each finger while blending into those of the heart’s—at first glance, it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other starts.

It’s a different view from each angle—that’s why he likes it so much, along with the graphic nature of it. The pain feels vivid, real.

“Ah,” you run your fingers across your work table, fiddling with the small pieces of clay before taking a seat again, “that one.”

Nanami follows but he doesn’t say anything, resuming his place in front of you in the usual way he’s done the past few weeks.

“I didn’t think I was the type to be moved by art.” he confesses, sitting still as you continue the final work on the clay wisps of his hair.

You encourage him to go on, nodding along.

And he does, watching the way your steady hand forms features that look uncannily like him, if not better; strands of your hair always fall from behind your ears and he’s almost tempted to tuck it back to where it came from.

He tells you of the pain he feels from that piece, how it presents itself in different ways depending on the area you focus on—the constricted blood vessels, the buildup of pressure from a vein blocked by a thumb, the strain of muscles at the back of the hand.

A small smile makes its way onto your face, slightly sad but somehow relieved, “Didn’t expect you to be such a poet.”

“Must be from being around you so often,” he responds.

And if it’s a trick of the light, a part of him sinks at that possibility—he thinks your smile stretches wider, suppressed only by the shyness trying to hide it; no pain whatsoever.

Unexpectedly, you share with him the story. Not the filtered version, but the one just as raw and vivid as the sculpture made from it—a failed relationship that had you clinging onto sculpting as your lifeline. You spare him some of the gruesome details but hint at it enough that he can fill in the gaps on his own.

You tell him that you’re a people pleaser, you’ve learned—it’s the only way you can view that relationship with grace, that at least you understand yourself better because of it. That even when the grip on your heart wrung tight enough for each beat to hurt, you still clung on with all your worth.

(Now you know you shouldn’t have.)

People have come to you with stories of their own, sharing how much your art means to them. Critics write articles, both good and bad, detailing the technicalities of your work. The applause follows you everywhere you go, yet it has never touched you—has never gotten too close.

If your art has touched others, has listened and spoken their truth in your handiwork, who does that for you?

During one of the last few Friday meetings, you offer to teach him how to mold clay.

He looks at you curiously, watching the way your fingertips pinch and squeeze, how they glide to smoothen the material and press down to create indents on the surface.

“Do you want to try?” you ask, gaze still set on his sculpture in front of you. There’s a teasing edge to your tone, one that’s developed over the months of getting to know you more.

“Would that be troublesome?”

You laugh at his rigidness.

“Of course not.” you push your piece aside, standing up to gather clay from the mound of it to your right. You lay down a wooden platform for him–his own little workspace–and slam a chunk of clay atop it, “I think you might be good at it actually, since you like making bread.”

The movements are familiar but not entirely the same. He rolls up his sleeves, blue cotton pinching at the creases of his elbows; you hand him an apron to protect the rest of his clothing. There’s not much kneading involved, not much palm action too, but he learns to move his fingertips with a force he can only compare to creating little dimples into focaccia dough.

You teach him how to make a bread basket—something practical but beginner-friendly; something he can use and keep as a reminder of you.

The trickiest part of it is mimicking the rattan weavings, and you notice him struggling with it when his strips of clay begin to break.

A screech fills the room as you push back your chair, standing up to go behind him as he attempts to salvage his work.

“Here, let me–” you reach over his shoulders, flattening some of the cracks from above him.

You’ve never been this close before, the thin strands of hair dusting your arms tickling the sides of his ears. These past few months, he’s watched your hands press and pull and form, turning each detail of his face into art. It’s only now, right next to his larger and rougher ones that he’s noticing just how small and delicate yours are.

It’s dainty work, weaving and braiding. He attempts to do it again, but the clay only falls apart when he pulls too hard.

You stifle a giggle, the vibrations tickling his back, “We might take a while here.”

“I don’t mind.” he mumbles.

“You sure you don’t have anywhere else you’d rather be?” you lean forward, pressing closer until he feels your warmth against the back of his head, “I feel bad, I’ve been taking up most of your Friday nights already.”

It shouldn’t mean anything; he shouldn’t feel anything—you seem to be unfazed; art is meant to be taught by doing.

But then your hands go over his, guiding them to lift each strand of clay gently before interweaving them with one another, and he thinks—

—this must be what it feels to be touched by art.

So, no.

There’s no other place he’d rather be.

DRY. Give it time, let it settle. Watch your art come into form. Is this a good foundation?

“Will you be free next weekend?”

His question surprises you as you stand in line at the bakery. You tend to catch each other at just the right times almost everyday, saving a spot for whoever’s running a little late.

Today, it’s you, rushing in slightly frazzled with your hair sticking out which way; you’d just finished up molding the sculpture late last night, letting it rest out to dry. Nanami’s head is turned towards you, hands in his pockets as he directs the same pointed gaze you’ve become all too accustomed to.

You must have forgotten to mention it.

“Oh,” you turn to him, “there’s no need, our sessions are over.”

His silence makes you nervous, just like it did the first (second) time you met.

Did you upset him? Did he already cancel plans to free up time for your studio?

The entire trip to the cashier is quiet, but you find that he’s ordered ahead for you—your sandwich order and a cup of your usual coffee. He pays for it too, despite your refusal (and confusion).

It’s when he hands over your drink by the corner of the room that he finally speaks.

“Not for a session.”

You tilt your head curiously.

The coffee feels warm on your hand, and you think you see the same warmth at the tips of his ears, dusting it light pink. He coughs, fingers clenching around his tie before loosening it.

“For a date.”

You begin to take up his weekends now, too.

Since that day at the bakery, when you’d nearly dropped your coffee before stuttering out your availability, you’ve already gone on seven dates (to you, at least; Nanami would officially count three).

He insists on still visiting you every Friday, bringing you dinner as a reminder that you should eat on time and not the moment you’re keeling over from a rumbling stomach and a pounding headache. You count these as dates too—because what else do you call spending time with someone you like while having night-long conversations over good food?

(Nanami creates a distinction though, prefers his dates to be more planned out and intended. On the three official dates you’ve gone on, he’s brought you to three different locations—a weekend market, a picnic by a lake after you’d mentioned something about it, and a vintage record shop on the outskirts of the city, a place he frequents often).

The near-perfection you once thought of the man, a geometric study on canvas—he’s still every bit of it, still every bit as interesting as what he seemed, just in a completely different way.

For a man typically so nonchalant, he is extremely particular about his tastes, borderline picky with trusted company.

Nanami enjoys coffee (as expected), but the fermented filter kind, dripped down a V60 pour over to extract different notes of sweetness and acidity. You’d think he enjoys a straight black, face stoic enough to handle its bitter bite; but no, his jaw clenches when he dislikes the taste, his tongue sounding the faintest click against the roof of his mouth before he downs the entire thing in one gulp.

He also happens to be extremely gentle, in a way you don’t expect from a man of his stature and build. Veins run through the back of his large hands, branching to webs around the thickness of his fingers; they may not be delicate enough to weave clay, but he carves out different patterns on the sourdough he presents to you every Friday.

The first time he held your hand, it wasn’t exactly planned—an instinctive move to reach out his palm as you climbed the steps of the spiral staircase in the record store out of town. You’d barely felt it then, just the featherlight hold of his thumb pressed against your knuckles as you gripped the fabric of your skirt.

(To your surprise, he kept it up all the way through, slipping his fingers through the gaps between yours as he showed you around vintage vinyls and the sound of love in muffled 60’s tunes.)

You imagine him to be like clay, a softness hardened over the years that have shaped him; smooth but solid to the touch, breaking into powdered shards once you manage to work your way through.

It’s unexpected, but you like that.

And you like him—quite a lot, really.

This date–the tenth, or fourth, whichever–is a lot fancier than all the others, a more formal dinner with a few glasses of delicious wine whose name you by god, don’t remember. You’d been too focused on something else—the handsome way he’d slicked back strands of his honeyed hair.

Black suits him, contrasting the paleness of his skin and complementing the sharpness of his features.

Black, the color of his suit, pressed neatly to fit him perfectly. He looks clean, broad shoulders with straight slacks falling to exactly where they’re supposed to be.

Black, which is the only thing you see, pressed up against him. You’re so close by your doorway, that half-minute of deciding whether to stay or walk away; he has one foot behind him and one firmly planted right next to yours.

You share a breath, fingers lightly intertwined with his.

There had been signs the entire night that it would lead to something like this—he’d played with your fingers a lot more, kept much closer to you than he ever has before.

Every sound around you is amplified—each inhale and exhale, the gulp he makes; your heart beats on rampage.

When you look up, your noses are almost touching, and his eyes are shut, the crease between his eyebrows deepening.

It’s a look you’ve only seen once before, when he’s stuck contemplating.

“Kento,” you whisper.

His eyes blink open slightly, the color of your coffee. He leans forward, forehead resting against yours as he takes a deep breath, “I–”

Then you kiss him.

It’s mostly a peck really, and wholly out of character for you, but it’s that same something that compelled you to ask him to model for your sculpture months ago that’s pushed you to do this right now.

You’re worried for that first split-second because he doesn’t move, shows no sign at all of reciprocating. It’s a moment before you consider parting that he finally softens, relaxing his lips as he glides them over yours. His fingers slot themselves by your ear, palm pressed against your jaw as he deepens it; you almost stumble back, his other hand catching your weight as it leans on your door.

It’s a good thing you did this then, because you learn that he likes you too—very much, actually.

Things are good a month until your exhibit.

Things are good until they aren’t.

You end up reading a premature critique on your exhibit, calling it ‘overrated’ and ‘boring’, detailing the trajectory of your decline as an artist, citing your works as having become increasingly more lackluster over the years.

The critic calls your theme ‘lazy’ and ‘unoriginal’, predicting your pieces to be nothing extraordinary or different from your older sculptures.

All this time, your publicist and manager have made it a point to protect you from things like this, requesting that you avoid searching up your name on social media or search engines. You’re usually fed with praises and the occasional constructive criticism, but never anything as spiteful as this.

It’s every possible thing that could be said to invalidate your hard work.

And you break because of it—along with Nanami’s sculpture.

It tips over accidentally, the funk in your mood making you especially clumsy.

The damage is terrible, half of his face is gone, his neck down still intact but chipped off. It’s impossible to repair without redoing the entire thing—which, you don’t have the time for, either.

You groan, banging your head against the table.

Frustration leaks out in your tears, every inch of self-doubt surfacing.

Nanami finds you in your studio that way.

He’d texted you the entire day, tried calling you a few times to no success. It’s a Thursday, but without your usual ‘just got home’ text, he’d gotten worried and rushed over as soon as his meeting ended.

If he’s being honest, you’ve been off this entire week—stressed and distant, overworked from revisiting all your finished sculptures for the exhibit in case of anything to change or tweak.

Then this.

And it’s too much—it’s all too much.

Nanami calls your name from your entryway and you look up with tears streaming down your face. He’s never seen you like this, you could never want him to.

He hurries over, brows immediately furrowed as he digs into his pocket for a handkerchief. The cow print would make you giggle on any other day, but now, he uses it to wipe your tears away.

“What happened?” his gaze shifts to your right, his sculpture half-ruined.

Silence.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asks hesitantly.

You shake your head, swiping at your nose, “It won’t look the same, Ken.”

“Do you want to redo it? I can clear up my schedule every–”

“There’s no time.”

Nanami takes your hands to rub his thumbs over your knuckles, soothing.

“Then we’ll do what we can.”

The sincerity in his voice hurts you, the reassurance in his eyes even moreso. You’ve never had anyone look at you this way.

“There’s no point.” your shoulders slump, lips trembling as another wave of tears pool on your lash line. “People are calling the exhibit a flop.”

“Who?”

You huff out, exhausted, “I don’t know, critics, media. Whoever.”

He furrows his brows, firm, “They don’t understand what you’re doing.”

You chuckle sarcastically, “They’re art critics, Ken, of course they–”

“If it means something to you, what does it matter to anyone else?”

That makes you look up.

Nanami stares at you with the same unwavering gaze, no longer indecipherable to you. There’s a softness in the squint of his eyes that you now know means concern, with every pointed feature only meant to drive his words home.

You’ve been second guessing everything down to the core of your abilities, because of what? A few words? This must be what you get for having a penchant to people please, for hinging on everything everyone has to say.

“If you love what you create, then continue to make it.” he squeezes your hands, as if pressing the words into your bones gently.

You remold and repair, and you build up your sculpture to something different but not worse than before.

You remold and repair to build up yourself.

The half that broke off isn’t as symmetrical as you’d like it to be—and it definitely doesn’t do justice to the man it’s sculpted of, but you think you like the softness you added to it, how his eyes look kinder. He means something else to you now, after all, compared to when you first started sculpting him.

And you think, you know just what kind of design speaks of his soul.

PAINT. Add the final touches, perfect your piece. Bring it to life with colors and details, whether it be for one pair of eyes or many. Do you now see?

Nanami teaches you how to make bread on a Sunday morning.

Flour coats every surface of his counter, dustings of it transferred to the deep blue of his apron. You’re wearing a white one, borrowed from your studio. Elbow-to-elbow you knead, and he only has to teach you once for you to get the hang of it, really.

He smirks, “You’re a natural.”

“Must do stuff like this a lot in another life or something,” you stifle a giggle, playing along.

It’s a beautiful day out, golden sunlight hitting your cheek—Nanami stares, sneaks peeks between every knead. The same strands of hair tucked behind your ear fall to frame your face, and he hooks his pinky around it to tuck it right back (because he can now, without having to hesitate).

You turn to him, daylight in your eyes when you grin your thanks.

His kitchen has an open space, deep wood and black metal detailings as its central theme (the white bread bread basket you made together stands out on the counter, but he’s done that on purpose). There’s a pretty extensive collection of alcohol in his liquor cabinet, along with his very particular coffee set-up right next to his record player slotted in the corner.

On Sunday mornings, Nanami likes to keep his music playing; today, it’s the classic 60’s–’Can’t Take My Eyes Off You’–serving as your background beat, with the soft meows from the cat on his balcony as added accompaniment to the melody.

He watches you sway, his feet tapping along, then you jolt, giggling in surprise when there’s a hiccup in the song (it’s from the scratches on his record, but he can’t bother replacing it with a new one). After that breakdown in your studio, you’ve seemed to loosen up immensely.

“Ken,” you call him, “how much pressure do you usually put into kneading?”

There’s no way to explain it, really, but to make you feel it yourself.

“Let me–” he lets go of his dough, dusting his hands with more flour before coming up behind you.

Nanami is a big man, tall and lean, all chest and shoulders—when he hunches over you, you look so small, delicately tucked into him. Heat rushes to his cheeks, if you turn around you’d see pink; the music is drowned out by his heartbeat.

He leans forward, palms clasping over the back of your hands, fingers slotting themselves between the gaps of yours.

“Like this,” he pushes down, his chest pressed against your back. To get a better look at the dough, he tilts his head to the side, nearly slotting it by your shoulder, “Can you feel it?”

You hum, your swaying gone. He’s trying hard to focus on the bread, but when you turn your head to face him, the tip of your nose touching his cheek, he stops.

The moment is tense, drowned into silence despite the music playing in the background. He can hear your every breath.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Nanami knows it’s for many things—for agreeing to the sculpture, for spending time on it; for this Sunday morning, for being there when you needed someone the most. But that’s not the whole point of this, he thinks. It’s how you sound, voice heartfelt and filled with something else—a kind of affection he’s all too familiar with himself.

This must be what you mean when you say you can tell if clay has been molded with love.

In the quiet, Nanami’s hands move loudly.

He holds you gently, just like he always has, but it’s a permission every time—like he’s asking if he can touch you, love you in ways you aren't used to.

Your apron falls to the floor, followed by your skirt, the fabric pooling by your feet. The faded gray t-shirt you wear during studio days is tugged over your head, dropped next to him. He takes his time with you, turning you over, feeling you, knowing you—thick fingers squeezing the sides of your arms lightly as his lips press against your neck.

A gasp escapes you.

Then you move, nimble hands undoing the buttons of his shirt, pushing it open as you feel across the planes of taut muscle on his stomach and chest.

He groans, soft and low, your fingers brushing against his skin, ticklish.

You take a step back and he moves along with you, letting you settle into yourself as you inch backwards, the back of your knees knocking against the edge of your bed. He holds your gaze as you move towards your headrest, your shy smile doing nothing to lessen the butterflies in his chest—you did mention that it’s been a while.

He kneels on your bed, the mattress dipping to accommodate his weight—his slacks have been discarded to the side as he crawls over you.

Beneath him, you look like the very subject art could only wish to replicate.

So, he makes sure to remember all of it—to look close and memorize every detail of you as he dips down, arm planted to the side of your head as his other hand cradles your face, tilting your jaw up for a kiss.

He catches your lower lip between his, running his tongue over it before sucking lightly. You moan, smooth and honey-sweet, bringing him closer with your fingers clasped behind his neck. The room is quiet save for your lips smacking against each other’s, warm and soft as the heat builds between you.

Slowly and tenderly, with the same care you tend to clay, Nanami discovers all your dips and curves; he kneads the flesh of your hips, gripping your thighs as he kisses his way down the slopes of your body.

You squirm in his hold, tugging at his hair when the sensation feels too much, too good.

(But when he reaches between your legs, arms locking your thighs over his shoulders, you realize, nothing could have ever prepared you for this, for him—he treats you as if you are every bit of the art you make, and looks at you like it too.)

Then, Nanami kisses you on the forehead when he’s inside you, lips pressing on the part of your skin that creases when your brow furrows.

A tear drips down your face.

“Should I–” he looks you in the eye, worried.

“No,” you breathe out, a watery smile as you nudge your nose against his chin, “keep going.”

So, he does; he loves you without the applause, with the feel of his hands, leaving no place untouched.

He moves his body against yours.

It’s only after, when he tucks himself into your neck, arms wrapped around you and skin sticking onto skin that you tell him your tears aren’t anything bad.

For the first time in a while, you feel full—perfectly content.

He thinks you should be the final piece to your exhibit.

It’s a grand event, the conference hall decked in some of your previous works; blankets of white cloth drape over the stage—the unveiling of all your sculptures. You’re standing to the side, looking pretty in a long white skirt while Nanami blends among the crowd, far back enough to remain hidden from reporters but close enough to catch your eyes should you look his way.

You present each one, introducing the titles with brief descriptions of the people they’re sculpted from. The reasons for your designs are left primarily up to interpretation, but you’ve explained it all to Nanami—he’s listened to every single one.

Then you present his sculpture, finding him through the crowd. The corner of your lips curl up slightly, the stage lights reflecting on your eyes.

He smiles at you the same.

‘The Undoing’ is what you call it—half-perfect and half-salvaged.

It’s far from your original vision for the piece, but you think you like this more, splitting down the part that’d originally broken off into two different colors. His entire color scheme consists of yellows, greens, and browns—the perfected side of his face appears in clean strokes of coffee, with light yellows highlighting his pointed features. The angles are clean and sharp, his gaze straight and dead-on.

Running down the cracks of the broken half is a sky blue line, an almost glowing effect added to the salvaged side. In a way, it’s an emergence, of the part of him you never thought existed—green wisps like leaves, a life springing from within. You add flecks of gold to mimic light bouncing off his irises the same way sand becomes a glittering sea of sunbeams.

To you, Nanami is warm but cold to the touch, and he’s undone you just as much, has chipped away at the parts of you that have built themselves over years of habits reinforced and untouched.

It is as much you as it is him.

That’s what happens when you love someone, he supposes—an intermingling of souls.

Kraft paper crinkles in his grip as he adjusts the bouquet of flowers behind him, deep red carnations and orange tulips decorated with white astilbe flowers—for when you get down, and he can have a moment with you privately.

Now, he looks at you fondly, shifting his feet from where he’s standing. You search for his face, eyes darting to where you know you’ll find him; he meets your gaze, and you smile brighter, that one look ringing louder than the standing roars of an echoing applause.

a/n: each segment represents the steps to making a sculpture that i tried to parallel with the development of their relationship. V60 pour over is a kind of set-up for drip/filter coffee.

thank you notes: for @mididoodles, this is my very late birthday gift for you midi, but i hope you like it! (this also so happens to be your request for my in's and out's event) 🥺 + @soumies @scarabrat for reading through the first third of this and believing in the vision for this when i was so unsure of it, i love you both 🥺 + @stellamancer for helping me figure out what goes in the 'contains' 😭 + @augustinewrites to scratch the nanami itch 🥺

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #kento x reader #nanami x yn #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #nanami kento x yn #nanami kento x you #shotorus.writes #shotorus.events #in's and out's event

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anashins · 1 year ago

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Five Times a Day

Pairing: Jaehyun x You

Genre: angst, romance, smut

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: After Jaehyun's ex drops the fact that they have once done it five times a day, you are eager to keep this record up.

A/N: Retroactive jealousy is real and this is me processing this problem. Maybe some of you can relate - remember: We're in this together and are stronger than our insecurities!

You sipped on your smoothie, barely listening to your friends who were excitedly talking across each other. Under usual circumstances, you would have been able to enjoy this gathering among you girls, but today… not at all.

In fact, you were in a sulk. And it was all because of a guest from a past you had deemed forgotten already.

“By the way…” Said guest suddenly turned to you with a feigned, overly sweet smile. “How is Jaehyun?”

You rolled your eyes, refusing to look into the face of the girl who had just asked you this question. You had known she would eventually come up with this topic. After all, your boyfriend, Jaehyun, was her ex boyfriend. Justifiably his ex, though!

She had gone behind his back and cheated on him with his friend. It had been you who had mended his broken heart with no ulterior motives in the beginning, but after that cruel woman had moved away, it had evolved into something that the both of you had underestimated.

You had given him time, treated him with nothing other than patience and understanding, until one day, he had been able to move on with you who had no intention of hurting him in the same manner ever again.

“He’s perfectly fine, we’re so happy,” was your equally overly sweet reply.

Your best friend’s nudge into your side with her elbow pulled you out of your sulking attitude as she was silently begging you to get a grip of yourself. You just shrugged, reminding her that you had only tagged along because you were nosy and wanted to boast, and that you had no intention of being friendly. You just couldn’t have missed this opportunity to see how she was doing, no matter how much you resented her.

Jaehyun’s ex had been in your friend group back then and was now in the city for a few days, so everyone had accepted her invitation to meet up to reminisce about the old times - including you and your big ego. You slowly regretted it, even though you had only come to brag to her how much happier he was with you. It was just so exhausting to be fake-friendly.

But to prove to your best friend that you were ready to compromise, you added sharply with triumph in your voice, “We live together now.”

“Oh, I’m so happy for you!” the ex’s voice echoed through the café as she clapped into her hands. “I also have a new boyfriend with whom I live with!”

The other girls congratulated her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so as well. All you could think of was whether that guy was also a poor soul she would soon destroy. That was until she mentioned something else that only you could probably hear.

“Now that we live together, we do it like five times a day.” She chuckled, lowered her voice and leaned in to you. “Jaehyun has been able to do just as much. Say, does he still live up to it? You must for sure know.”

You resented her so much.

____

First

You woke up way before Jaehyun when the sun shone right into your face as you had forgotten to pull the curtains together the night before.

It was almost 7 in the morning, and soon, your alarm would go off so that you would only see each other again later that evening when you came back home from work. You were determined to beat the clock before that would happen.

With much caution, you lifted the blanket and crawled under the duvet to Jaehyun’s side of the bed. He only groaned when you accidentally leaned on his shin, but you were still able to settle on his legs under the blanket without waking him up fully.

You reached out your hand and stroked the small mound under his pajama bottoms. It didn’t take long for that mound to turn into a firm bulge and for Jaehyun to react to your stroking with his thighs moving against your palm.

You didn't know whether he was awake yet or not from under the covers, but you liked the thought of this exact uncertainty. To push this act further, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his bottoms and dragged the fabric downwards to the point where you could get a hold of his member and pull it out entirely.

Your fingers wrapped around Jaehyun’s length and you started moving them along his shaft until it stood nearly parallelly to his stomach. Sitting yourself up to be able to tug your own panties down, you shuffled forwards and guided his tip to your entrance.

When you slowly sank down onto him, you heard a loud moan from the other side of the blanket that was still covering you. Tight hands gripping onto your bum when you had taken him in fully, confirmed to you that your boyfriend was now awake - and ready for whatever was to come.

“Good morning,” you whispered, your head now peeking out from under the duvet.

Your boyfriend was still lying on his back with his eyes closed, but you still perceived his sensual and exciting expression as he licked over his lips and groggily fluttered his lids open.

With a grin, Jaehyun greeted you hoarsely, “‘morning.”

Your palms were placed flat onto his chest as the blanket slipped over your shoulders along your back and revealed your upper body that was only covered in your silken top. To Jaehyun, this was a sight he couldn’t get enough of, jolting him entirely awake now.

You put your weight on your forearms, just enough for you to lift your hips and come down at him again. Not much later, your moans filled the entire room, sunlight dancing across your skins on whichever part was currently in the right angle as you bobbed up and down on him.

Your back arched, your hair falling over your shoulder blades in long, silken streaks as the strands simultaneously moved to the rhythm you applied to Jaehyun’s groin. Not much later, your skin was glistening with sweat and you fell limply on your boyfriend’s chest as you had run out of strength.

Putting his arms around you, Jaehyun hurried you along until you bit into his shoulder to suppress your scream as you shook in his embrace. Shortly after, when you slowly calmed down, it was his turn. With his fingers entangled in your hair, he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, faltering between every syllable as he came.

You had never doubted that Jaehyun loved you very much. You had been very sure that he loved you even more than when he was the happiest with his ex-girlfriend.

But now, you weren’t quite so sure anymore.

Not even when he took his time and risked being late to work just to cuddle with you in the aftermath.

____

Second

“What are you doing here?”

Jaehyun looked at you with very much surprise from across his desk when you closed the door behind you. You had visited him a few times at his workplace already, to bring him food or quickly say hello when you had been in the neighborhood - but never with such an intention.

The fabric of your trenchcoat felt cold on your skin as you wore nothing underneath other than the lingerie that you had actually wanted to save for your anniversary celebration. But until then, you had decided, you would buy a new set and use this one for this certain occasion.

Jaehyun couldn’t believe his eyes when you opened the coat’s belt across your waist and flashed him the sexiest set of red underwear that he had hopefully ever seen in his life. You physically watched his jaw drop and him taking off and then putting on again his glasses just to make sure that what he was currently witnessing was, indeed, real.

“Today is not my birthday, right?” You saw him gulp as his Adam’s apple moved along his neck, and you had to suppress a chuckle catching him so off guard. “Then I must be dreaming.”

“You’re not,” you answered and approached him in your heels that were also new. “Today is just your lucky day.”

“Then can every day be my lucky day?”

When you stood right in front of him after he had come forward from his seat, you let the trenchcoat slide down your shoulders, revealing the new bra fully, and your boyfriend couldn’t take his eyes off of you once again.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered before his head disappeared between your breasts. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Then show me,” you challenged him. “Show me how much you want me. Right here and now.”

… and not her, you added silently in your mind, but pushed this intrusive thought right aside, because you wanted to live in this moment with Jaehyun and no one else.

“Very well,” he agreed and helped you take off the trenchcoat.

You were allowed to keep wearing your lingerie when Jaehyun grabbed you by your buttocks and placed your legs around either side of his hips just so that he could carry you. With one swift motion, he had turned you to his desk and kept you in place with one arm while the other reached out and threw everything in his reach from the desk onto the floor.

Then, he placed you on the surface and parted your thighs with his hips. The moment he loosened his tie was the moment you lost it too, because, once again, it hit you out of nowhere how perfect your boyfriend was and that you actually shouldn’t care who had been with before and what he had done with that person.

Jaehyun was all yours when he slipped his fingers into your lace panties and pushed them into you to collect the fluids inside of you as you had gotten so wet already. He was all yours, when he dragged his hand along your folds and caused you to shudder with this motion only as they reached your clit.

And he was also all yours when you couldn’t bear it for much longer and put your heels up on either side right on top of the desk to give him better access to enter you.

You were laying flat on the surface with your elbows propped up for support so that you could watch him thrust right into you. Jaehyun’s hair swung with each push and grew damp over time on the tips that touched his sweaty forehead. His fingers were still buried into your upper thighs so that no thrust would go astray, and when he looked up, you encountered this hungry look in his eyes.

He was long not done, and you only hoped that his short lunch break was enough for what he had still in store for you.

And as you were finally letting yourself go too, lying back down on the desk and moaning his name just loud enough to not to travel to the other offices, you wondered if he had done something like this before just by the way he knew what to do and how to enjoy it.

____

Third

You had set up a fancy dinner for Jaehyun later that evening. After having surprised him at his office, you had gone straight back to your own workplace and finished earlier to buy and prepare his favorite food.

By the time he was home, you had the appetizer and steak with side dishes ready, and even though you had been in a hurry to fix dinner, you were pretty impressed with how everything had turned out. After all, today, everything had to be perfect for this mission.

“Are you sure it’s not my birthday or another important date that I forgot about?”

Jaehyun raised a brow when he saw that you had set up the whole atmosphere with fancy crockery, cutlery and even lightened up candles. Usually, on weekdays, when you both had to work, you just threw something easy and light together and ate on the couch in front of the TV.

“Can’t I just do something nice for my boyfriend when I have the day off?”

“I mean… I’m not complaining. But this is the third nice thing you’re doing for me today. What did I do to deserve this?”

You put your hands around his neck and shook your head. “You’re just being you. Isn’t that enough.”

You got on your tiptoes to kiss him and were already looking forward to serving him dessert. And with “dessert” you didn’t mean ice cream or cake, because you had not prepared such. With “dessert” you meant having Jaehyun right under you at your mercy not even an hour later.

“Stop, stop!” Jaehyun breathed and stretched out his hand to gently lay it on the top of your head.

With a slurping sound, you let go of him and looked up to your boyfriend who was spread out on the couch underneath you.

“You don’t like it?” you worried, because Jaehyun actually never said no to getting head. Again, you wondered what you did wrong and if he had ever said no to his ex. You bet not.

He cupped your face and softly pulled you up to him so that you were now hovering over his chest. “That’s not what I mean,” he grinned and kissed your smudged lips. “You did so much for me today, let me do something for you too.”

Not much later, you were a writhing, whiny mess, legs locked between Jaehyun’s head while he licked you like you were his literal dessert after this feast. You had cum twice in a row already and were thinking that if he wouldn’t stop now, you wouldn’t have much energy for the real deal soon.

“Already out of breath?”

“Please… I just want you inside of me,” you begged.

“Very well.”

He took you on all fours from behind this time, fingers entangled in your hair and pulling you back every now and then to either kiss you or groan lewd words into your ear that made you blush slightly. In no way would one assume your boyfriend had this side to him if one were to meet him on the streets.

How lucky you were.

And other girls before that too, apparently.

But again, you pushed that thought aside when Jaehyun smacked your cheek and you let out a shriek that blended with your orgasm in the exact same moment. Pain and pleasure became indistinguishable, and that made it even more exciting as you experienced a high that only seldomly occurred.

When you laid with your sweaty bodies chest to chest, you came to the conclusion that it probably truly didn’t matter what had ever been before you when the present was so beautiful.

You didn’t want your insecurities to get the better of you, but your boyfriend was so perfect that you constantly wondered if one day, he would have enough of you if you couldn’t give the best like he deserved.

____

Fourth

“No.”

Your heart sank and you directly pulled your dressing gown close again. Underneath it, you wore a negligee that only rarely got put into use, but for the fourth time today, you wanted to present it to Jaehyun when he returned from the bathroom.

You only had two more times to go, you assumed you could get it done right now.

Your disappointment and shock were very visibly written all over your face though, and immediately, your boyfriend started to apologize.

“Look…” He seated himself next to you on the bed and looked at you with apologetic eyes. “Don’t beat yourself up over this! I really appreciate everything you did today, but it was a long day overall for me and I have to get up early again tomorrow. I just can’t keep up anymore today. It was great three times, but I’m physically at my end too and I really need to sleep soon.”

You didn’t want to say it. You truly didn’t. But your impulsive part had gotten the upper hand as all your feelings that you had been suppressing throughout the day boiled down to this one sentence,

“I bet you didn’t say that to your ex when you did it five times a day.”

For an unusually long time, Jaehyun stayed quiet and you feared that you had sabotaged your relationship at this point.

“I knew there was something up with you,” he eventually said. “You shouldn’t have gone to that gathering, even though the other girls are still friends with her.”

“But I did, because I’m nosy and foolish.” You paused. “Are you mad now?”

“Yes.” Your heart dropped, but before you could defend yourself, Jaehyun continued, “I’m mad because you have let her confuse and make you question our relationship based on… what?”

Ruefully, you confessed, “She said that you had sex five times a day.” You sensed how he repressed laughter that was deeper than usual, so he wasn’t making fun. “What is it? Is it not true?”

Honestly, perhaps you should have asked Jaehyun before reacting blindly out of impulse, because after all, this cheating girl was a liar. But sadly, he dismissed your glimpse of hope.

“We did.” Jaehyun’s head dropped at the same moment as your heart. “This is true.”

“Oh…”

You knew the person you should be angry at was yourself, not Jaehyun or his ex. You hadn’t been romantically involved at that time, it had nothing, absolutely nothing to do with you. But you couldn’t help but to compare yourself to her over and over again.

What was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you just switch this off? Why was there no button connected to your feelings?

Something warm suddenly touched your hand, and it was Jaehyun’s, taking yours into his. You didn’t dare to look up, that was how ashamed you felt for yourself.

“It was only one time,” he started calmly. “There was a snowstorm outside, so it was dangerous for her to go home. She stayed an entire day and night, that was when it happened. And do you know why it happened?”

You shrugged. You were unsure whether you actually wanted to know all the details to feed your insecurities even more.

“Don’t worry, the answer won’t be as you expect.” Jaehyun squeezed your hands and continued with a patient, tender tone, “The reason wasn’t because I found her more beautiful or hotter than you. Believe me, you are the only one for me. I cannot even look at other women and not think ‘Wow, I got the most beautiful girl out of all the girls in the world. She’s so perfect, I’m so lucky!’” Your cheeks were burning, but you kept listening diligently. “The reason was because we literally had nothing to talk about.”

Now, you lifted your head and faced your boyfriend who encouragingly smiled at you. He was sincere, you saw it clearly in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that whenever we spent so much time with each other, we never had something to talk about. We had absolutely no common interests or topics of which we felt the need to engage in. The only attraction we had was a physical one, so when we were forced to stay with each other so long, there was nothing else that we could do.”

Jaehyun let go of your fingers and wrapped his hands around your waist instead to pull you into his warm lap, and you let him.

"Absolutely nothing?” you wanted to make sure. This indeed surprised you.

He chuckled ironically. “Yes, absolutely nothing.”

“But we always talk non stop.”

“I know.” You felt his full lips pressing into your cheek and smiled. “We are not only physically connected, but emotionally as well. Isn’t that beautiful? Do you know how much that is worth and that some people seek for a connection like ours an entire lifetime? I enjoy physical contact with you just as much as our conversations and laughter. There is no need to fill a void, because there is none in the first place.”

You had never thought that Jaehyun felt like that and it touched your heart very deeply. “When I heard her saying this, I was worried you would soon be bored with me if I couldn’t keep up.”

“No, don’t ever think that!” Jaehyun drew you close to his chest and you laid your head on his shoulder. “Our love came unexpectedly for each of us, and I think we both had to learn that the right love was calm and steady, not these highs and lows with many fights. This is how it’s supposed to be, don’t let it make you feel unsure because you’re not used to it too. We’re here now, we shouldn’t look back.”

Hearing this from him set your mind at ease. It made many things better that were here temporarily, but you were also aware that in order to fight any doubts you were holding against your relationship, you had to fight your inner demons first.

It couldn’t be done in a day, but you would work hard, taking one step at a time and just believe in your boyfriend who assured you every day in many ways that his feelings were true and unwavering, no matter how big the demon had grown at this point.

“I love you, Jaehyun.”

“Of course I love you too.” He chuckled. “You make me laugh, you defend me, you fight me, you challenge me, and whenever I’m at my wit’s end, you bring me back to life. This is worth so much more and there is no one else I can ever imagine being with again. To me, you’re perfect.”

“Funny,” you whispered as you felt him pressing a kiss onto your parting. “I always think that about you too.”

There was no need for a fourth or fifth time.

#jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x you #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun fanfiction #nct #nct 127 #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct x you #nct x reader #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

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kujiba · 22 days ago

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;MAY THE LAND CONCEAL YOU, DEAR GRACE;

୨୧ — ꒰ gn!reader | they/them prounouns| Sagau | cultish behavior

A/n: AHHH I'm so happy rn!! Tysm for the people who reblogged/liked my posts!! I'll give it my all(๑˃̵　ᴗ　˂̵)و

Tw: mention of Drugs, slight mention of abuse, Gore/ Torture warning

Hint!: theres a secret message by the end :3

Tag list: @vianitry

One / Two / Three / Four / Five

Countless of people bustled and gathered at the nation of eternity; Inazuma by a letter delivered to them personally. Who had formed this festival you may ask? Why it isn't no other than their 'grace' themselves! Rooted from their tender heart, their 'grace' had devise one of the most largest festivals ever recorded in the history of Teyvat.

A bard who sang songs to a small audience, that small bunch turned into a group, and a group switched to a crowd as they were all allured by its melody and how graceful the youthful looking man's fingertips strummed his lyre.

Yet the bard had his attention elsewhere, he had purposely gathered this much attention to try and lure in his beloved target. One will say that this man's slyness is like a strong gust of wind passing by you, you'll see him one second and he'll dissapere the next.

"I wonder where you're now my grace? Don't you worry though. The wind will tell me everything... So don't try and escape me again."

Yet elsewhere, a mature looking man had drawn many bystander's attention on his various dialouge's and stories connecting to the past. The man's intellect about various subjects putting numerous academic experts to shame.

His silky smooth hazel hair flowed as a small breeze passed by him, with a short hum he placed down the jade tea cup on the umber wooden table after narrating a story about some magnificent individual who he still greatly admired till this day.

The crowd surrounding him praised and clapped on his knowledge about such distinct topics that not one single person had ever heard of yet, it was as if he was there to witness it all happen closely.

Eventually a random passerby had become curious enough to ask the intellectual man a question that had been lingering in their mind's for a while.

"Sir, may I ask, but who is this person you highly speak of in your stories?"

"Who they are? Well, they are an old companion of mine that I cherish deeply."

The man chuckled as the memories flooded through his mind, every breath and second he had spent with them was deeply engraved into his mind and stored for centuries. Even now after countless years, he could still vividly remember his first encounter with them.

"Who knows, maybe I'll come across them today."

No... Not maybe, the man was confident they will cross paths today, he will do whatever it takes to be in their presence once more and be able to touch their soft and delicate skin.

He will do anything, to make that happen.

...

'Woah, I never knew Zhongli was this obsessed with someone' You looked at the man dumbfounded by what you had heard.

You previously just got teleported into Inazuma and had to experience the 10 stages of adhd since numerous guards began hunting you down for NO reason at all.

To your luck you managed to slip into a thick crowd concealing your presence and being able to wander around the lively and bustling streets for a little bit.

From what you had gathered by the citizens gossiping, this is a festival hosted by someone named 'their grace', literally nothing else but 'their grace'.

'Poor unfortunate soul... Your parents must've been drunk when they named you such a strange name.' You shaked your head feeling a large amount of pity towards the person you haven't even met yet, that is aside from the numerous tales passed around about this grace person being a kind and pure soul.

You sure wana meet them! Maybe they could help you a bit in your situation with the guards.

While you were busy with your thoughts, you suddenly noticed the crowd began moving forward. Turning your head you could see a vague small silhouette of a person standing on top of a statue.

'Isn't that highly dangerous? What if you slip and fall?'

During your criticization for the lack of safety the person was doing, the crowd abruptly began going wild with people shoving others aside to get a better view whilst doing other drastic measures just to even get a sight of the person bestowed upon them.

Confusion striked you like a truck on full speed, you began avoiding the mob of people the best you can as they started getting physical with others, yet you still couldn't even put your finger on who that person on the statue was and how important they are to the people.

Was it a character you haven't met yet in genshin? Or possibly a secret character? You didn't have a clue.

But that's when it hit you.

That must be the grace everyone was talking about! Goddammit why wasn't your brain working earlier.

"Gotta ask them to have their guards stop following me.."

...

'That's right, continue to scream my name, for I alone am the one who transcends above you all.'

Their grace's mask was consisted of an image where they are portrayed as a pure hearted, selfless and kind to the other people... Or what the people of Inazuma had made.

People had already lost their minds after the dissaperance of their god.. Their creator. So when a so called 'creator' stepped forward suddenly all the people in inazuma has had their brains wiped off clean.

Their 'grace' had always thought of themselves worthy of this position.

And it wasn't just because they felt like it. When they had died from an accident, they were then reincarnated as a noble in Inazuma. But they all knew too well that this wasn't the case, they were the chosen ones, they were the right fit for this 'creator' or whatever.

There were some times where people who had worked for their grace experienced several abuse from them, but that must not be the case right? They must've been on the edge or had a bad day, It was their fault for trying to intervene and making their Graces condition worse.

But the people still choose to turn a blind eye on it, they're not stupid of course since before; the very moment the Imposter arrived their suspicions grew larger and larger each passing day.

All of that just to disperse once people began to find out something that is special from the Imposter and not like the rest; how they bring peace through the citizens minds just by being around their presence.

Though, none of them are aware that this was just an old trick by using drugs that originated from the Imposters home land and wasn't widely known yet throughout Teyvat. The very same drug that people had thought was a 'Divine Blessing'

Thankfully, not all were deceived by this petty trick from the Imposter. Only non-human races like gorou, kirara, yae miko and Arataki Itto could immediately tell it wasn't any blessing. The ones aware desperately tried to convince the people it wasn't any blessing and that they should avoid the Imposter, but they were quickly shut down.

Gorou was forced to be silenced as his own men didn't believe any word he spoke, kirara and yae mikos voice wasn't heard by anyone. Itto had gotten arrested by the Tenryou Commission when he spoke about it to Ayato and Kuki Shinobu, claiming he was too stupid as well as he was being a traitor to their grace.

The Imposter had made a perfect drug and made it their natural scent, the drug paid off since many people who used to be depressed had turned more joyful... Or should I say high.

'Majority follows' . If a small bunch turned into a group and grew more and more, people would choose to go with the flow and begin to worship the Imposter just cause it's the one with the more people.

It was only natural that the Imposter would immediately become one of the most worshipped person in less than 10 days, even the puppet Raiden Shogun chosen not to obliterate them immediately with her polearm.

But alas, a mind could be darkened when given too much.

Greed will overtake your mind and soul and corrupt your well-being, The Imposter wanted more and more. Because this was the life that they deserve after living in complete poverty back in their home land.

Everything was going as planned

...

Except one. A person who looked like any other civilian among the sea of crowds stared at the Imposter with curious and worried eyes.

And the Imposter stared back at them as well.

For a moment it seemed like their worlds came to a stop, the crowds cheering and roaring all began to go silent in their ear's.

The other who stared in pure innocent eyes, being the complete opposite of the Imposter. How could such person have a comfortable presence? The crowd must've thought the loving and warm feeling came from the Imposter, but the source of it all was just right beside you.

Pure and caring eyes that looked over at every fiber and piece of your body with such gentleness, if someone went to hell but saw those eyes, those damn eyes. They would brag about seeing heaven before them in real life.

Anyone could fall for them in a moment, but not the Imposter. Not them, they felt disgusted as the person stared at them with those putrid eyes, they hated the nauseating feeling in their stomach the more they stared at them.

But it's okay. Since every necessary situation is planned before hand, if this person was going to become a thorn, best to cut it clean off the stem right?

【Warning!! Your fate is being realized! Number of threats approaching: 4】

死亡

'Your fate is being realized?' you stared at the text typed out by the system plastered on the blue screen making your eyes slightly twitch.

You were just trying to get a closer look at their 'grace's appearance but it felt a bit off, why did they stared at you like you had just done the biggest crime? The uncomfortable vibe was unbearable so you broke eye contact with them to avoid further awkwardness.

'Sheesh, better hope I'm not in their bad side, the guards are already a pain in the ass' You complained inside your head to relieve some weight off your shoulders, it wasn't your goal to get more enemies than you already do... Cough mondstadt...

But back to the message from the system that was still flashing across your face, what confused you to the brim was the sentence 'number of threats approaching': 4

Was it more monsters? Or maybe some people from mondstat already caught up to you...You shivered greatly at the thought of facing the acting grand master again, but also another topic popped up inside your head.

What could diluc be doing?

Before you were teleported, you swore you heard him scream 'Your grace' at you but you brushed it off thinking it was just some kind of weird respect name to make up from the trauma he had kindly given, but now at some coincidence there was a person at a large platform named 'Their grace'.

You thought this was just an ordinary reincarnation.. But its likely it's not anymore.

Getting manhunted for no reason, abnormal cult like mannerisms between the people, the system calling you some sort of 'God' and a completely new character you have never seen before in the main storyline of genshin impact.

As you listed down the numerous unusual casualties that had happened, the corner of your eye grasped something strange—then your eyes widened immediately and grasped the dendro vision dangling on your hip.

It was flickering.

Your vision was flickering, there would be a beautiful viridescent color then it would turn a dull grey.

You didn't have a single idea why this was happening, in the lore of genshin; all visions would turn a Grey hue when it's owner dies, but you were far from being dead. You dont feel anything strange courisng through your body and felt healthier than ever

You took a deep breath, going over to focus your energy into the core of your body to try and summon your personal companion, Taube.

Your eyes expected the same soft and snow white feathers the Dove was covered in like last time, but to your suprise Taube changed.

It's feathers weren't so bright and snow white anymore, but a dark and deep shade of black covered it from head to toe like some sort of virus.

What happened to it? Was it because your vision was flickering and that's why Taube looked so exhausted and famished?

Concern washed over your body along with dread for the poor bird, however just as you tried to puzzle more and more of the clues given to you, a new message appeared from the system.

【Would you like to transport back to Earth? System 444 has sensed great amount's of errors on the story

Yes — No】

Everything felt like it was going too fast.

You stared bewildered by the sudden offer, why now at all times? Isn't this a bit rushed? Was the errors the clues you picked up on?

There was already too much on your plate with the warning of threats, your personal companion dying, and your vision beginning to fade.

Million's of questions flooded your head and your breath began to quicken, your chest heaved up and down greatly as well as deep panting coming out of your mouth. Since when have you felt your clothes grasping your body tightly? Breathing is becoming harder and harder by the second.. Every attempt to calm yourself down failed miserably

Genshin Impact was a game you truly did enjoy, but now you felt nothing but dread over the past few days even up until now. You would always fantasize about meeting all your favorite characters in the story, but having to go through all the pain was something you can't handle.

Your hand trembled with anxiousness with your fingertip drifting on the glowing blue screen barley inches away from pressing it.

But just as you were going to press 'Yes', someone's hand heaved your wrist tightly and hauled you back from the sea of people.

The back of your head hitted on something soft yet also hard.. Like someone's body? With a slight groan you fluttered your eyes back open deciding to gaze up on who dragged you here and interrupted you at the most important things.

【The god of wind is looking at you】

Another message from the system appeared in which it didn't even took you less than a second to realize who's body your head hitted.

Venti looked at the blackened dove resting on your arms then made his way up to your face. He gave you a smile, intending it to be soft and comfortable but only came out as creepy and nerving making you tremble at the God.

"What a lovely dove."

You thought he was talking about your personal companion, but why did it felt like he was talking about you?

Venti never once broke eye contact making the atmosphere more and more unbearable by every passing minute.

You tried to speak but only silence left your mouth for you couldn't think of much to say to the anemo god.

'This is so awkward...'

In your perspective, Venti must have been feeling awkward just like you but the truth is far from that, he instead was still captivated and mesmerized by your appearance. If Venti were to spend the whole day staring he would absolutely do so without a second thought.

But now another text was delivered to you from the system reading; 【The god of Contracts is looking at you】

Okay now that was just too obvious for even yourself. Your (color) eyes scanned the surrounding area till you spotted the brunette man you were looking for.

Zhongli sat at a stone table by himself while he drank his siganture tea on the jade cup. The two of you made eye contact with each other from afar, from a third person's view it was just some normal eye to eye interaction.

However this made your skin crawl by how predatory Zhongli's pupils looked at you only, as if he was about to grab you by the neck in any given moment—Like a dragon circling it's prey by using its gaze and body alone to suck the life out of the poor victim.

And that poor victim just so happened to be you! Seriously when will you break free from all these chaotic situations?

You averted your eyes from him but unconsciously began to fidget with the hem of your sleeves since it was a personal habit of yours to do so whenever you felt an uncomfortable vibe. Your arms then hugged the dove; Taube, closer towards your chest for comfort and a bit of security.

'I wanna leave...'

Venti Pov

'How strange, That pesky lizard really can't keep his eyes off what's mine'

I had been waiting centuries for your return dear grace, but now the wind had finally reunited me with you! yet the geo god dare stand in my way?

A small wind vortex began to emerge out of my palm as the winds began to pick up around us. (Name) slightly tumbled by the sheer power but I acted quickly and catched them tightly by the waist, Yet the feeling of their body around my hand caught me slightly off guard

Have they always been this delicate and soft? Their skin felt so warm around my hand, I've almost forgotten how you felt in my arms dear grace, but not to worry

I won't ever let you go now

Your Pov

'What have I gotten myself into...'

The wind began to pick up for no reason so I slightly tripped on my feet, yet venti catched me so damn fast!?

I'm pretty thankful for the save but... Don't you think you're holding onto me way too tight? The atmosphere wasn't helping at all even though venti and zhongli were a good distance away from each other! Dear God help me!

I'll have to turn to my one and only savior now.

'Psst! System? Help me!' I mentally said to myself hoping to see the familiar glowing sapphire screen appear like usual, but to my suprise it was completely silent! Did that fucker ghost me!?

'Hey! Hey! You there? Please help me out here!' I begged silently praying that my voice could be heard by the system once again, ever since I've met the knights of favonius everything was turning out strange and weird for me

Speaking of knights of favonius, where were they? Surely they could've just gave up on me right

Right?...

I failed to notice that zhongli had already appeared infront of Venti with his arms crossed, his expression seemed calm yet the presence and pressure he gave off definitely was the opposite of calm!

The two bickered back and forth with malice but I was busy adjusting my thoughts on what to do now.

Many footsteps reached my ears so I turned to look what the noise was about but immediately regretted it and turned my head back once I saw a familiar blonde woman.

'Jean! What the hell!? How did she get here along with the other knights'

My expression paled up as well as my hand unconsciously going over to my mouth to cover it 'Shit! Shit! Shit!'

Please tell me they hadn't notice me yet! Maybe If I pretend I'm another person.. No you idiot that won't work!

Panic surged through my bones along with millions of thoughts and plans to avoid those people at all costs, currently from a distance the people present were Jean, Amber and Kaeya.

Yet no Diluc in sight though.. I wonder what could've happened to him? You hoped he isn't trying to hunt you down anymore too.

...

The knights of favonius couldn't have possibly.. No I shouldn't think too much on that nor jinx it, they wouldn't go as far as killing their own people right?

I hope he's okay.

Just then the system appeared before me once again, it made me jolt slightly but I composed myself quick enough to read it's information

【The false god is looking at you】

'The false god?' I felt unfamiliar with who that was, could it be furina? But I don't see her anywhere along with the other Fontaine characters.

I turned my head to look behind me and saw only the large and bustling crowd so it was pretty difficult to distinguish who the system was talking about.

Before I knew it I was swooped away by the mob separating me from Venti and Zhongli who hadn't yet noticed since both men were focused on arguing with one another

But that's when my eye caught something, a familiar game mechanic in genshin impact I frequently saw in quests or puzzles; The golden trail

I stared at the twinkling golden path in amazement, it was prettier than I had imagined! I letted Taube go back into my vision so that it could rest for the time being.

My legs hurriedly moved on their own as if a siren had come and sang to serenade the people, yet I was the only one attracted to it. Each step I took, the world around me continues to fall silent with the people fading into nothing but air

One, Two, Three.. Four.

As I took my final step the golden trail also vanished, I raised my head up to stare at the only remaining thing around me, and it was the person I saw on the stage earlier

What was their name again? Oh right. 'Their grace'

I curiously turned my head around the area, however I confirmed that only two of us were left alone. My eyes moved on their own and stared at Their grace's appearance from top to the very bottom.

It was strange how similar yet different we looked from one another, if someone were to look at both of us we would be mistaken as twins.

"Who are you?" Their grace asked me with a calm voice, they had a relaxed pose with both of their hands behind their backs as well as their head slightly tilted to the side

"(Name), you must be that grace person from the stage earlier, right?" I asked them taking a step closer "That's right" Their grace confirmed my question and didn't move away from me, even motioning to come closer to them.

I didn't see anything wrong when their grace motioned me to come closer. Just as I was about to take another step forward, a sudden message from the system stopped me in my tracks

【Would you like to transport back to Earth? System 444 has sensed great amount's of errors on the story

Yes — No】

It was the same message from back then when I was inside the crowd, I was unable to choose since I had gotten distracted by something else. Even so, the answer should be obvious is it not?

Without wasting another second I clicked the 'Yes' option on the screen, the screen very soon collapsed into pieces and dispersed on the ground. Their grace stared at me with curiosity, wondering on why I suddenly halted my movements

"Is something the matter?" Their grace asked me once again, I shook my head silently and waited for something to happen, for example teleporting back to my world.

Minutes passed by as a awkward atmosphere surrounded me and their grace putting me in a uncomfortable position.

It must've been strange to see me randomly stare and click at the air. Their grace on the other hand didn't seem to look bothered at all, infact they just continued to stare at you while you waited to get transferred back to your world like what the system had said.

But that didn't happen

【Would you like to transport back to Earth? System 444 has sensed great amount's of errors on the story

Yes — No】

The message appeared once again which left me confused, I clicked the yes option like last time but it refused to work. I looked back at their grace and saw them smiling at me strangely

"Why don't you try to press no?"

My breath hitched at what they had just blurted out, Could their grace see the system too? Why won't the Yes option work?!

I was so lost in thought that my eye didn't catch Their grace stealthily walking over and pressing the 'No' option on the screen

This one move made me scream and swat their hand away from the system. I blinked in suprise, my jaw dropping a bit since their grace is actually able to see the system

"What— How—"

"Did you really think you could leave so easily?" Their grace's tone shifted drastically, it was no longer warm and calm but cold and stoic towards me. Their tone clearly filled with annoyance, as if they had been keeping it all in them all this time.

I was then again taken back by the sudden hostility, only being able to awkwardly rub my temples "What do you mean?" I said not knowing how to respond to that

Their grace narrowed down their eye's and did a circular motion around me like a animal ready to pounce on its prey without any hesitation.

I swallowed the lump in my throat with my fists balled up tightly "Explain what are you doing." I demanded to them, scowling as their grace finally put a stop on their movements around me.

"Let's have one final chat."

2nd Pov

"That message from the system you received was supposed to work indeed" Their grace started off with a mischievous tone while you only glared from the sideline's

Their grace looked at you smug, deciding to continue on "But in the very last minute, your fate had changed itself. Originally you were destined to teleport back to your home and live a happily ever after, while the characters here continue to suffer from your abandonment." Their grace keen fingertips scraped their own cheek slowly yet roughly.

Their eyes only remained on you while a stream of blood dripped from their jaw to the ground. "You can't escape from here, not without my help." Their grace reached out their own bloodied hand towards you "I'll bring you back from your old world, it will be painful but you want to go back home right?"

You stared at their hand skeptical but also hesitant "How could I trust you with this?" You can't just blindly agree to something so mysterious, you aren't dumb and would just agree to anything without knowing more information "You have no other option yes?" Their grace retorted back at you

You stared down on the ground for a good minute and sighed. Returning back home is your goal after all, but this deal felt so shady however your leads on going home were 0. Having no other options left you finally gave a slight nod, showing that you've accepted their proposal "All right."

TORTURE WARNING

How long has it been exactly?

Your brain, once a vibrant organ, now felt like a pulpy, useless mass. A torrent of crimson, thick and viscous, spilled from the gaping wound in your stomach, painting the ground a macabre landscape. The metallic tang of blood filled your nostrils, a sickeningly sweet aroma that clung to the air. The once-bright fabric of your shirt was now a canvas of crimson, the blood soaking through to the skin beneath. The world blurred around the edges, a hazy kaleidoscope of red and gold as your consciousness slipped away.

Fearful and pleading eyes stared back at their grace's cold and wicked ones, not an ounce of remorse present in them

Their eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto yours, sending a shiver down your spine. "Don't look at me like that," they hissed, their voice dripping with malice and disgust. The dagger, its blade rusted and pitted, gleamed menacingly in the dim light, a cruel mockery of a weapon. They pressed the tip against your thigh, the cold metal biting into your skin. The blade sliced through your flesh, a searing pain that ripped through your body, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake. They savored the sound of your gasp, the way your body flinched with each agonizing inch of the blade's descent. Panic clawed at your throat, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid tang of fear.

You struggled to escape from the torment, to run off like you had always done and expect this all to be a simple nightmare, but it was none of that, You could only trickle fresh droplets of salty tears out your eyes down to your cheeks.

Your cries were raw, desperate. A guttural symphony of pain and fear that echoed through the confined space. You begged for mercy, your words tumbling out in a frantic torrent. "Please, stop! I don't understand!" But did they listen? No. Their faces, blank and unreadable, offered no solace, no hint of compassion. You were a mere object in their hands, a plaything in their cruel game. The why of it all, the reason for this agonizing torment, remained a maddening mystery, a cruel riddle you were powerless to solve.

Their grace sloppily made a deep cut on your warm flesh, it was obvious that they had little to no experience on how to properly use or even wield a knife, but their grace's lack of skill only brought more discomfort and tears to roll down your face, since it opened more wounds than it should have.

Their grace, a cruel mockery of the word, plunged their fingers into the gaping wound on your thigh. The flesh tore, a sickening ripping sound that echoed in the confined space. You screamed, a primal, guttural cry that tore from your throat, but it was lost in the maelstrom of your own agony. Their fingers, calloused and cold, delved deeper, tearing through muscle and sinew, widening the wound until it gaped open like a hungry maw. The raw, exposed flesh pulsed with a throbbing pain, a crimson wellspring that seemed to beckon them further. With a sickening crunch, their fingers disappeared into the cavity, disappearing into the depths of your ravaged flesh.

Your breath hitched, a ragged gasp that tore from your lungs, and your nose erupted in a violent, uncontrolled sneeze. Your chest heaved, each inhale a desperate struggle for air, your lungs burning with the effort. Your voice, raw and hoarse, refused to obey your commands. A strangled croak escaped your lips, a pathetic whisper in the face of your mounting terror. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat that threatened to burst through your chest. A metallic tang filled your mouth, the taste of your own terror, a bitter, metallic aftertaste that lingered on your tongue. You felt yourself slipping, the edges of your consciousness blurring, the world fading into a dizzying kaleidoscope of pain and fear.

You swore to yourself that the inside of your throat was already gushing out with blood, a mettalic tang filling your mouth, after all, since you kept abusing it, this action resulted in making you unable to speak temporarily for the time being.

While you were dazed out on trying to subdue the pain inside your throat, Their grace's bloodied hand roughly grabbed you by the cheek and made you face them eye to eye.

"This is what you call a god? A pathetic excuse to even have this little thing"

They tapped repeatedly on the dendro vision dangling on the side of your waist, it's emerald glow taunting the two. you felt like you've just been thrown into the sea, too exhausted and famished after pushing your body to the limits, resulting to being unable to pull off a singular move or even get away from them.

"Even that redhead had made it quite farther than you."

Their grace abruptly blurted out to themselves, yet you heard it. You heard it vividly, the news of a red head meeting the same fate as you made you gradually lift your head to look at them "W— What do you mean?..." your vocals stung with every word you uttered out, but not as much as how your stomach dropped when beginning to realize who they meant.

But their grace only shook you off like nothing, ignoring to answer the question you desperately wanted. They swiftly choose to shift back on the main track they had planned much earlier.

"If you don't want to scream anymore, then I'll just cut this thing off" Their grace forcefully opened your mouth using their bloodied fingers, spreading it wide enough to grab your tounge harshly.

You struggled greatly to try and strain away from their grace's stiff grip, unfortunately for you though your body had already neared it's limit making it seem as if it was almost impossible to overpower their grace by now

But don't think you cant do crap. If you're going to die, you're gonna make this fucker suffer too.

Gathering your last remaining strength you bit down hard on their grace's fingers, hard enough to draw blood and even make contact with the flesh and bone. You applied even more force by each second, your canine teeth anchoring itself on their skin so that they won't be able to pull you off.

This only made their grace scream in agony for they felt the bone's deep inside their fingers beginning to break by the sole pressure and force, their grace then began attempting to shove your head away and let their fingers break free before it was too late.

"H—Hah..argh! A.. AHHHH!" A blood curling scream came out of Their grace's mouth seeing as 3 of their fingers had been bitten and ripped off clean, only leaving a massive surge of blood on their hand as a remnant

You spat out each finger on the ground and coughed in disgust, never once have you tasted that much blood before, it was nauseating to the stomach.

You swallowed down the incoming puke that was about to come out, trying to shake off the dizzy feeling going on inside your head.

The metallic taste lingered on your tounge with a stronger aftermath, your lips now tainted a deep shade of red from the blood with some of it dripping out from your mouth.

But their grace was quick to recover from the pain, they messily dug into their pocket and took out the hydrogen peroxide they had been secretly storing just for this moment incase you decided to fight back.

They popped it open and dumped the whole bottle's liquid onto your open wound, using their other hand that still had fingers to dig it deep inside and all around the flesh.

The insides of your flesh began to swell with the amount of things that had been entering, you tried suppressing the incoming screaming since it just worsens your throats current condition.

Nonetheless you failed and let out a holler in agony and pure discomfort, your body convulsing wildly as you brought your thigh closer to your chest for comfort. Hissing loudly since you felt the stinging sensation spread throughout every limb.

"You should've just gave up..." Their grace groggily stood up from the floor while shakily holding their wounded hand, even when you had already experiencing enough pain cause by them, Their grace simply thought it wasn't enough to pay for what you had done.

They bared their teeth at you, feeling a strong flame of hatred ignite in their heart, and so, without hesitating any longer their grace delivered a rough kick towards your lower abdomen making you throw up droplets of blood knocking the daylights out of your vision.

Brutal attacks continued to come in your way without a stop, as a way to protect yourself you curled yourself up into a ball with both of your hands defending your head from the assaults.

Their grace huffed heavily, exerting too much energy out of their body was bad for their own health as it effected the way they could even stand correctly.

Their grace stumbled slightly on their feet, the feeling of immense pain being foreign to them since the day they had become a false god not even a single scratch was laid on their fragile body, the reason being that there would be over 20+ characters guarding their grace's every movement

"Y— You idiot. . . Don't you want to get home? I'm doing you a huge favor yet you do this to me!? " Their grace's tone was laced with disbelief and fury since they had believed what they were doing was for the best.

You opened your mouth to protest what their grace declared so boldly whilst also hugging your stomach tightly from the previous strike, but to your suprise only inaudible and strained sounds left your tounge, not a single word was understood.

Your mouth gaped in realization before starting to slowly massage your throat, only realizing now how sore and painful it was to you.

Their grace's expression shifted from grimace to pure souless, That strange stare they gave off just screamed chaos in your point of view. "You wanted to know what happened to that redhead? Right?" They abruptly brought the topic out of the blue.

A bad feeling crept up to your stomach making you anxious about the answer their grace would give, nevertheless curiosity got the better of you, and at last, after a long moment of pondering what to do, you just slowly nodded your head to theirs grace's question.

Their grace felt overjoyed and sadistic by your answer, imagining in their mind what expression you'll make when they deliver the bad news to you.

"I invited over a blonde woman to inazuma along with some of her companions, if I recall she was the leader of something...." Their grace trailed off breaking eye contact with you to look at the non— existing sky, completely unaware of the horrified look on your face as a vivid memory of Jean's face flashed across your mind.

You began to have goosebumps at just the thought of having to deal with her again, even if your previous encounter was managed by the system alone.

Now that you've thought about it, where was the system now? It's been a long while since you've received their last message.

You bit back your lip, 'Settings' you said inside your head, hoping that the system hadn't dissapered and abandon you yet again.

Thankfully the system had not went away yet! It appeared right infront of you like usual.. Except it carried a odd message this time.

【Your fate has been realized, 4:44】

It's that fate thing again, just earlier the message had been mentioning your fate many times. But now besides it was a number... A number that kept decreasing by every second.

'A timer? But what for?' the more you asked yourself questions, the more none of them were answered and only left you with confusion.

Your (e/c) gazed back at their grace who smiled maliciously "Ah yes how could I forget?" they turned their heel and strutted towards you catching you off guard, you attempted to move away from their grace so that some distance could be made, however your bodies current condition flied over your mind leaving you almost paralyzed now.

You could only peer at the other persons with difficulty, bracing yourself mentally for whatever bullshit they had to say

But something was off, you knew that their grace was probably able to see the system. Yet this one message looked like only you could see it now.

Above their grace's head also consisted of a timer similar to your's 【6:66】. Only about two minutes longer than yours...

Your inner monolouge was soon cut short by a voice "I've brought a gift for you" Their grace said in a puzzling tone that left you with mixed thoughts.

Their grace proceeded to shove their hands into their coats pocket to show you what that little 'gift' was.

A vision, an golden jeweled amulet that allows the user to resonate with the seven elements freely. Most visions would consist of a vibrant color followed by the elements symbol

But in this case, the vibrant color was nowhere to be seen on the amulet. Only possessing a dull Grey color, similar to yours that was continously flashing from a vibrant viridescent color to a dull Grey one.

You observed the jewel closely, starting to dig through the countless events that occurred today.

Impatient by how long you took, their grace opened their mouth yet again "The blonde woman gave this to me as a welcoming gift, she got this from—"

"Diluc's dead body." You cutted them off this time, your eyes glued to the floor since everything just went blank at that exact moment.

You had mixed signals towards the redhead, he indeed attempted to take your life for the sake of what he had believed but stopped at the very last moment. Diluc did realize soon enough, however the trauma already left a mark inside your mental health making you uncomfortable whenever he was brought up.

Yet you couldn't bring yourself to hate him fully yet, only wanting to avoid the man if possible. But not like that, you never wished for diluc to permanently disappear!

It only took a heartbeat for him to go down on one knee in your presence, you couldn't lie to yourself since you felt conflicted by how fast diluc ultimately made up his mind without any hesitation.

Besides all that, he was still a character you liked before even getting transported here. So just imagine if diluc hadn't met you? He would still be alive to this moment.

Countless of things surfaced up ever since you've arrived. What you thought was the same Genshin Impact you loved and adored in the beginning, was far more twisted than you expected it to be only after staying for a few days.

'How could i always mess everything up? Did some curse latch itself onto my soul so that it could only bring chaos to those around me?' The system may have called you a 'god' or creator of this place, however you think the complete opposite.

Since you thought yourself as nothing but a thorn on Teyvat's side by now.

"Ha.. Haha... Hahahaha!" You clawed out your cheeks using the sharp edges of your nails, blood flowed down as well as fresh salty tears. The two fluids mixed together soiling your cheeks once more.

It stung really damn hard, but the pain never even registered onto your mind by how messed up your mind was at this point. Who would be still sane after going through what you went in this world? It's a miracle you managed to even compose yourself after dying.

You covered your mouth with both hands, the feeling of dread getting replaced with utter disgust. Their grace stared at the pitiful scene with a poker-face, not even fazed by the slightest.

This moment was your breaking point now.

【The system advises you to not do anything stupid! 】

【The system advises you to not do— 】

"Stop it." Your abrupt voice made their grace quirk a brow "What?" They placed back the Grey vision in their pocket to listen in on what you had to say

"I don't know what I've done for you to put me in this shit hole." You slammed your fist down on the floor making a loud bang You did it so that you could atleast lift your body even by the slightest.

"But I could careless on what would happen now." You stated in such a determined tone that their grace themselves felt off, having to then swiftly wield out their weapon, pointing it inches away from your neck.

"What are you staring at?" Their grace questioned raising a brow at your sudden burst of will

【1:00】

"Your horrendous face"

【20 seconds】

"Fuck you."

¿?

A variety of distinct and unique people crowded over a small wooden stadium built for a person who they deeply admired.

Yet that special person was nowhere to be seen. Countless witnesses have come forward to confess that they had last seen the individual accompanying a person with (h/c) locks and (e/c) eye's

Among the crowd owned two distinct figures, one of a blonde male with a long braided hair, the other floating beside the male with her appearance as a small child.

Aether and Paimon had just recently arrived at the nation of electro;Inazuma. in addition to find the Electro archon and ask her a series of questions.

Paimon floated around then took a halt "Traveler look! It's Zhongli and Venti!" She piped up, a clear voice of excitement to see the two familiar men they had encountered in their previous journeys

Aether turned his head to also take a peek at the situation. Zhongli and Venti walked side by side looking obviously worried about something, despite that, the two continued to bicker with each other stating that it was the others fault that (Name) got away.

The word (Name) left Aether intrigued, since it was the very same name as the creator or God that amber disclosed to them back in mondstat.

Aether only observed the situation quietly like he had always done, letting paimon do the talking for him since he was still unfamiliar with Teyvat's distinctive language.

"Zhongli! Venti! What brings you two here?" Paimon called out to them catching the two men's attention. Venti gave her a small wave while Zhongli maintained a humble expression

"We had been invited over via letter" Zhongli explained his situation to the two traveler's, Venti nodding his head since he also had the exact same reason "Ah yes, could I ask you two if you had seen a person with (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes?" Venti questioned them, Aether crossed his arms together already putting two and two together.

'Hm, I should find that (Name) person quickly... They should know something about my sister' Aether had already began to devise a plan on meeting (Name) whatever it takes, he figured that they couldn't have gone too far if Venti and Zhongli are just recently looking for them.

Aether glanced back at paimon and the two men, Paimon blabbered about some random topic that kept Zhongli and Venti at bay. He used this opportunity to try and strain away from the group without anyone noticing his disappearance.

'I should take a look around... (Name) probably had left some traces' Aether took one last deep breath and dived right back into the chaotic crowd, his eyes scanned the area to find anything out of place or strange.

The blond only continued to do so for about a short while till he decided to give up, finding nothing else but only dead ends to his search. It wasn't like he was expecting much either, he had only heard tales and stories about the individual (Name). Stories that had come from the townsfolk if not even his own trusted companions.

With a heavy heart filled with dissapointment, Aether resolved the case as a dead end with no clues nor leads, He'll just have to wait for something that could possibly lead him towards (Name)'s whereabouts.

"I'll return to Paimon and the others.." Aether mumbled to himself quietly, stretching his arms up high till he heard a small 'pop!'.

You know what else popped?

A dead body with (h/c) locks, their eyes shutted tight while their neck had a massive slash mark, blood seeped out of their wounded neck staining the stage their body fell on. The stage that was right infront of every audience to see.

"W—What is that!?!?"

"S—S—Someone help!!"

"Oh my archon's it's r—real!!"

Screams of terror engulfed the whole area with bystanders backing away from the body which oozed out a metallic crimson liquid, yet red wasnt the only liquid that seeped through their body.

A golden fluid mixed through with the crimson one, producing a beautiful yet horrid scene.

Even though their body was dead, one last message appeared that none of the audience members could see. 【You are one step away from successfully reincarnating.】

All civilians, archon's, and higher leagues stared at the corpse in pure disturbance, none daring to utter a single word as silence filled the area in mere seconds.

"Y—Your grace?" One voice came up, the bards voice trembled with fear like everyone else. Many heads turned towards Venti as realization finally kicked in.

That lifeless corpse that stained the wooden floors with their odd blood, that person who the guards recently chased down.

'The one I've been looking for.. Yet how did it turn out like this?' Aether checked upon the enormous crowd that had been formed, his eyes stalking on whoever had done this;

On whoever ruined his chance on finally receiving answers to this world.

His eyes scanned the area and halted at a distinct figure in the distance, their hands were wounded up greatly, Next to them laid a suspiciously bloodied weapon as the person had a look of anxiety washing over them, scurrying to hide it inside their clothes so that no one could see.

Of course, Aether wasn't one to be oblivious, he was completely aware of things and knew how to read a room, and this person had guilt written all over their face.

Aether took a step forward, determined to investigate this matter and find out what had truly happened to his creator.

But just before he could even reach the a large explosion erupted from the crowd, luckily none seemed to be injured by the sudden attack.

Aether turned his head to the noise, analyzing who or even what had caused it, however he immediately froze in place when he saw the situation

A old man vs a drunk bard

Oh archon's what were those idiots doing!

【Rip Bozo】

"Zhongli... If only you hadn't been in my way, my dear creator would be standing by my side right now!" Venti called out the other man's 'mistake' with an broken yell, yet Zhongli's expression remained a cool and humble manner... Well outside that is.

Inside the man's even more devastated than Venti, his heart shattered into small pieces, refusing to believe that his creator is very much gone from this world. Zhongli wanted to find out who did such a disgraceful and atrocious act to his god, his god that he worshipped for centuries before his retirement as a former archon. Even know as liyue had become a independent country, he continued to pray for his God to return in their glory once again.

The skies faded dark as clouds formed and poured down droplets of water onto the remaining 3 men who stood like it was going to result in a face off

"Hey you three!" a high pitched scream snapped them all out of the weighing tension, Paimon breathed heavily, placing her small hand on the pit of her stomach whilst looking exhausted "You all left Paimon alone! And what are you guys planning to do!" Paimon stomped her foot in the air out of pure frustration, Zhongli and Venti had forgotten that they were still talking with Paimon earlier and just abruptly left.

The three exchanged confused glances with each other, hesitating on what to do now. Aether was first to move, guiding the two men away from each other so that they won't try and rip each other to shreds

"Let's all calm down now shall we? We have bigger matters to face" Aether spoke up, his voice slightly calming down the others rage.

There was all too much going on right now, first it was the abrupt death of their creator, next was their 'grace' acting audibly suspicious with blood stained in their hands looking mortified. Now two archon's were about to bring destruction without being aware of their surroundings.

Aether himself felt frustrated over the situation, yet he never let his emotions get to him now. "I know you're all confused and angry right now. But bringing more chaos won't fix the situation!" He exclaimed loud and clear.

Though he himself couldn't deny the frustration boiling inside his heart, Aether didn't want the two archon's going back and forth with each other.

"Now if you just follow my lea— ugh!" Aether tumbled backwards by a sudden Shockwave erupting from below, making him land on his behind.

Then, Paimon flipped backwards in the air, screeching out her lungs as thunder striked all over the area around them which almost electrocuted paimon to death. "Eek! What in the... Paimon almost got..!" Paimon mumbled to herself in a startled voice, she covered her ears to block out the rest of the thunderous sounds, fleeing to aether for safety.

"What's happening!?" Aether uttered alarmed by the whole ordeal, those events that were shown definitely weren't something that came straight from mother nature, no, it came from something big

Worried for his companions, Aether spun his head around to quickly scout the two men who were just by his side.

"I will have order!"

"Time for take off!"

Venti and Zhongli was kept at bay by an overwhelming horde of monsters that rallied up and destroy anything on sight, the usual hostile enemies became even more aggressive by charging at anything on sight, whether it's a random civilian, animal, or even their very own comrades, nobody was safe from mass destruction.

Vision holders and the Tenryou Commission all fought back against the abyss, Roars of anguish and dismay covered the land of eternity as civilians ran for their lives.

Aether held back as much as he could, his heart accelerating quickly when adrenaline coursed through his veins sharpening his instincts and speed. But even as he gave it his all, the unknown force pushed back even harder, sending out a endless wave of troups to finish all of them off.

Oh but you think inazuma had only suffered?

Jean the acting grand master was forced to evacuate inazuma and back to mondstat to provide support and protection over its citizens against the destructive wrath of Dvalin along with hilichurls attempting to break into the city walls.

Liyue had no problems with fighting against the abyss, yet even so, the natural terrain brought a heavy toll on the citizens. There would be frequent tsunamis rushing over to destroy the precious country only to be stopped over and over again. Landslides and random boulders would roll down from the cliffs crushing anything below it.

Xiao, one of Zhongli's most closest adeptus pushed himself to the limit, stopping at no one to protect the precious land Morax had shoulder before retiring. Even so, having to witness innocent lives get taken from unnatural events triggered a past memory Xiao wished to forget in his mind.

Teyvat's shield slowly began to crumble, it's own terrain destroying the people who once roamed around the land peacefully only to meet a cruel end.

Their grace sat beside your lifeless body watching the chaos unfold with empty voided eyes. Memories flooded into their head, recounting how your body falled to the ground after they slashed your chest with their sword, penetrating the heart and lungs thoroughly.

Their grace knew it won't be long till they were going to succumb to deaths arms, a noose slowly wrapping itself around their neck, drowning them in a endless wave of suffocation. A slow and painful death awaited on their door step, and they could do nothing to stop it

Footsteps followed behind their grace along with a deafening sound of a blade dragging itself, bolts of electricity floated in the air as the tension began to thicken.

"Commiting a grave fault by taking part of the creators death, Deceiving the people of Inazuma to worship an inferior being like you." a cold and stoic voice hissed, the tip of an Amethyst colored blade rested on their grace's shoulder, only inches away from the neck.

"That would also include you, Raiden Shogun." Their grace stayed stiff in the position they were in, even in such times, they could only boldly talk to the puppet.

Raiden Shogun didn't deny the daring accusation, they too were deceived by their grace's act. "Yet you're aware, that your fate is still the same?"

Their grace looked up.

".. Yes."

【5 seconds】

Though I couldn't lie to myself, I felt afraid and intimidated by the single thought of dying. People disputed alot of events that could happen after you die. Maybe my soul will be lifted and be taken to the heavens.. Or hell. Would I get reincarnated again instead? But the sound of having to die again and again, only to live a life of misery sounds.. Frustrating.

Life is strange.

You're able to do everything, yet also can't. My fate is sealed to always die, from my previous life to this one.

The blade had gone cold, it's sharp edges running through the first layer of my skin down to the very last, slashing through the warm flesh with little to no difficulty. Such precision could only be achieved if the user had done this countless of times already.

Raiden's expression kept neutral, stoic and chilling eyes watching my own lifeless body fall to the ground with a stream of blood tainting the wooden floor.

...!

"Gah!... Ugh.. Ha.. Ha.."

Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing inside your ears. You jolted upright in bed, sheets tangled around your legs, and a cold sweat slicked your skin. Every muscle in your body throbbed with adrenaline. Your gaze darted around the room, (e/c) eyes wide and unfocused, struggling to grasp the chaotic jumble of memories that flooded your mind.

You fixate your eyes over to the surrounding area in a frenzy, noticing how the area consists of a small yet simple apartment complex with modern furnishings and interior.

Throwing the sheets that wrapped around your lower body aside, a careful yet thorough inspection began incase of any injuries you had sustained or carried.

Oddly enough, your body was completely unmarked. No bruises, no scratches, nothing. But a faint, persistent sting remained, like a phantom sensation, as if you'd just been choked.

The sting wasn't incredibly tackling to handle nor was it painless, it felt more like a prick..? Though you were unable to recall any information, memories, on what had happened, you vividly remember the important parts.

The devastating sensation of having your own neck slowly getting severed from your body, alone in a empty space with nothing but your own heart beat, slowly dying down as the cells in your body began to plumage.

A anxious scoff escaped your lips whereas your pupils started to shrink slowly. Your frigid hand trailed up onto your (h/c) locks, the icy feeling sending shivers down your spine.

"Was it all just a dream? No... No, no, no, no... It felt too real," you choked out, the words ragged and desperate. As you grappled with the impossible reality of what had transpired, a faint, dim light pulsed on your phone, lying across the bed like a beacon in the darkness.

It didn't take long till you finally acknowledge the strange light emitting from your phone which rested on a small table. Your brows scrunched together in confusion, wondering inside your mind on what that strange glimmer could be.

Deciding to seek out the answer for yourself, you hopped off the bed, your feet settling down on the cold wooden floor below, little by little you made your way to the small dark wooden table in a slow pace to investigate.

The sound of your footsteps halted once you were hovering in front of the oak table, you fidgeted and fumbled around with your fingertips, Why did you suddenly feel nervous? the light coming from your phone only continued to shine brightly, taunting your presence whilst also alluring your curiosity more and more as time passes by.

You inhaled a vast amount of air, the oxygen flowing through your nose and slipping into the lungs, after some short seconds, you exhaled out all of the air you ingested. With a more calm demeanor, you picked it up and held it tightly in your hands.

Your eyes locked onto the screen, watching as it began moving by itself, entering your home screen and scrolling past through apps. "What?... Why won't it.." you whispered lowly in confusion, attempting to gain control once again on your phone but only to fail everytime.

Frustration simmered as you fumbled with your phone, another failed attempt sending a wave of despair through you. Just as you were about to fling it to the ground in a fit of rage, a flurry of white feathers erupted in the air, catching you completely off guard. A pristine snow-white dove, its plumage immaculate, perched serenely on the windowsill, watching you with an unblinking gaze.

Your eyes locked onto the animal, a strange yet nostalgic feeling erupting deep inside your body. Where have you seen this dove before? And who the hell opened your window while you were away.

A cold shiver ran down your spine as an icy breeze swept through the window, its chilling touch making the hairs on your skin stand on end. You hugged your body, seeking comfort and warmth, while your teeth chattered uncontrollably. Having enough, you hopped of your bed, making your way through the window.

As you approached the windowsill, you noticed the dove had already begun to take flight. A strange wave of disappointment washed over you as you watched the graceful bird leave, its wings scattering feathers in its wake. One feather fluttered down, and you managed to catch it. Upon closer inspection, you saw that the feather not only had a cream base but was also streaked with subtle hints of (color)

"... What a weird bird"

You mumbled out, turning the feather around to further inspect it. The feather itself seemed perfect for a quill, making it more exotic.

Though not from afar, your device had a dim light twinkling on its screen, one moment it would light up the next it would turn black.

The glimmering subsided, replaced by a brief, stark display of binary numbers on the screen

" 01010111 01100101 00100000 01100001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100011 01101111 01101101 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 "

That was it's last's moment as the screen erupted in smoke, a foul and repulsive odor flowing throughout the small room. It only took you a small few seconds to comprehend the crisis.

You were going to quit playing games by now.

A/n: hey my skibbidi slicers, thank you so much for reading till 'the end' Of my first series on my blog!! This was kinda long lol, but I hope you all enjoyed!! I'll be sure to keep updates ^^

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bobluvbot · 6 months ago

Text

sweet nothing

pairing: remus lupin x f!reader summary: you thrive in filling everyone’s cup. remus makes sure your cup gets filled too. wc: 2k cw: descriptions of food, eating a/n: written after a long writing break pls be nice heheh p.s. thank you for all the love for my sirius angst fic!!! i saw yalls comments and messages and appreciate them sm!! i don't have plans at the moment to write a sequel/pt. 2 sorry :'( someday when i get inspiration i probably will but for now it's a standalone <3

The pesto pizza was a big hit.

The news of the heatwave came a month early so it gave ample time for James to rein in the necessary house improvement tasks: yard weeding and tidying, adding small stone steps for the toddler, and ordering the inflatable slip and slide pool for the sweltering summer days. And he was adamant to do it all by hand, no magic, so he “could get the full experience”. Lily likens it to being married to a professional landscaper and contractor at once, thankful that her decision to go on a date with James Potter during seventh year continues to be a great lifelong investment.

You can still recall Remus’ early morning grumbles when james calls him over for help. It came to a point where he’d beg you to pretend to be mad at the setup, reasoning that “ james is taking him away from his lovely pretty girl” when his best friend calls him at 6am to start the day mowing the lawn.

James would roll his eyes at excuses falling off of Remus’ lips, but he’d sincerely take your concerns to heart. Lovingly, you’d wave Remus off and give him pecks on both freckled cheeks, encouraging him to go and learn how to tackle on house repairs so he’d be well prepared when it’s your turn to build a family home.

This usually gets him going, Remus’ secret lover boy tendencies kicking in, but not without grumbling and frowns thrown haphazardly (easily treated with touching and kisses).

Sirius was off travelling the world for most of the month, much to Remus’ dismay, as he was then promoted as the first-in-line friend in James’ contacts. He did however send over a fancy outdoor pizza oven in lieu of his absence, and it completed the space.

On the days where you finish work early, you’d join Lily as she picks up her little boy from nursery and take a leisure walk around their quiet neighborhood, a babbling toddler in tow. Then you walk into the perfect setting: the gentle hum of the AC, sunrays reflecting on the white marble countertops, a nicely prepared spread of afternoon snacks for the three of you, and the floor to ceiling glass wall separating the living area from the backyard offering a glorious view of two sunkissed shirtless men doing hard manual labor. Lily nudges you, handing a bowl of pistachios. “A snack for the show.” You return her glance, eyes both twinkling with playful mischief. Maybe the summer days aren’t as bad as it seemed.

But then the first draining day of the heatwave hit. There were minor adjustments to be made still, like some scaffolding to be tidied and hedges to be trimmed, but the heat had a special way to beat down the morale of any living thing exposed to it for a while, and it finally hit James. Early on a Saturday morning, you decided to accompany a still groggy Remus on his usual Potter house renovation shift to make him feel a bit better that you were also losing sleep with him. To both your surprise, James comes from the garden to meet you, looking worn out but wears a proud grin. “It’s all done,” he claims, clapping his hands together and you see him holding the wooden culprit that magically finished hours of yard work in a few minutes. So much for no magic.

“Get some sleep and come back in the afternoon for the party.” Remus grabs your hand and apparates back home in record time, before James gets a chance to recant his words.

Completing a full 8 hour sleep cycle does wonders to the mind and soul. A well-rested Remus was filled with high spirits, doting on you as you both get ready for the party. He showers you with compliments the moment you step out of your closet, giving him a twirl. Once the bashfulness sets in, you run to him and try to nuzzle your heated cheeks on his chest, anywhere to escape his lovely sappy gaze. He sits on the bed so you can’t hide, and looks up at you like you hung up the moon. It was maddening.

“You look stunning, my love,” he says, hands on the back of your knees, sliding up under the hem to meet the soft skin of your thighs and resting them even higher. It took immense strength not to buckle down and fall into him. You’d foreseen this response the moment you decided to wear that white babydoll dress, but actually going through it is a terrible nightmare. As much as the idea of bailing on the summer party and letting Remus do whatever he pleases with you in this dress sounds very appealing right now, you had promised Lily that you’ll help with the cooking and food, and ghosting your best friend for a dick appointment sounds very juvenile. So against your questionable judgment, you grab your boyfriend’s face, give him a chaste kiss, and murmur against his lips, “james and lily will kill us if we ditch.”

Even though it was an intimate gathering of close friends to celebrate the finished yard, you forgot to account for the amount of kids, partners, and pets that your friends have accumulated since graduation. James had to transfigure the already long dinner table even longer and double the number of chairs to accommodate everyone. The slip and slide also was transfigured into an actual waterpark, complete with a lazy river that kids seemed to enjoy after going on the slides.

While it was definitely chaotic, it didn’t feel suffocating like packed events usually make you feel. It’s likely because of the familiar faces wherever you look, the ease of conversation just flows. Remus was anchored to your side until he wasn’t, whisked away by both James and Sirius as they announce to everyone who’s listening how his valiant efforts in renovation has resulted in the beautiful yard they were in today. You giggle at the endearing sight of your boyfriend furiously flushing pink while his loud best friends continue to brag about him. It’s just how the marauders would be back in Hogwarts, with you watching their shenanigans from afar whilst nursing a terrible, terrible crush on Remus. Only difference now is that you get to take him home.

You eventually get whisked away too, thankful that Lily came right on time as you were starting to melt in the heat. The inside of the home smells and feels like heaven, as the chilly air from the AC carries the scent of freshly prepared ingredients and whatever concoction Lily’s currently tending to in a pot. Careful not to disrupt the comfortable quiet, you give her a back hug, a silent thanks for fixing up everything you’ll be needing for the pizza you vowed to make, before getting to work.

You’ve gone over the recipe and prep so many times that you could do this with eyes closed. The pesto sauce was freshly made a day prior, a delicious result of your raid in your aunt Molly’s garden and fridge. Before you knew it, the only thing left to do was place the pizza into the oven, to which Sirius was very happy to do so he could flex his expensive purchase.

The chatter didn’t die off even when the dishes started rolling out of the kitchen, everyone now raving of how good Lily’s cooking have been, James not helping by proclaiming, “'m pretty sure my heart isn't the only thing she's stolen—she's got everyone's taste buds wrapped around her finger with her cooking too.” Making his wife flush pink and hit his arm playfully.

When it was time for your dish, the stakes were quite high and you were feeling a bit nervous. At home, Remus practically inhales everything you make which provides you a good ego boost, knowing that you don’t need to be the best, as long as you don’t accidentally poison someone from your cooking.

Soon enough, the scent of freshly baked pizza filled the air, mingling with the soft murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. You stand by the head of the table, hands deftly making slices enough for everyone, continuing to scan the crowd, ensuring that everyone is being taken care of.

"Here you go, aunt Effie,” you smile, handing her a generous slice. “Here’s a bunch for you, Fred, careful not to spill and please share with your brothers!" you try to say quickly, but only see a spur of red hair and small hands before they run back to the water slide.

You soon get a groove going and start to move down the line of smiling guests and waiting plates. Too distracted that you jump a little when you feel a warm presence at your side. Without ever needing to look, you knew it was Remus, who’s now carrying a plate with a slice you don’t even remember handing him.

Without a word, he picks up the steaming slice and brings it to your lips. You welcome the taste, finally understanding the praise everyone seems to be throwing at your wake. You make a mental note to thank your aunt for lending you her recipe. Remus has his free hand cupped near your chin, ready to catch any crumbs or drippings that might stain your pretty white dress.

Butterflies in your stomach erupt and fight for space, your entire body vibrating with giddiness and affection for your lovely boyfriend. That distracted look in his eyes as he feeds you in between your efforts in feeding everyone makes the warm fuzzy feeling worse, because you know he’s doing this without much thought, like second nature. That it’s just common sense. That it just goes without saying that his love knows you, fills the needs you don’t even realize were there in the first place.

You wonder through the afternoon then early evening what you’ve done in your past life to receive this love. Maybe you saved a cat from a burning building, or watered a dying plant that had magical powers to heal serious illness, or stars aligning just right to have you exist in the same timeline as Remus.

You find yourself buried in blankets and clad in a worn sweater, twenty something minutes in a romcom movie in the comforts of your tiny apartment. Remus slides in beside you with a bowl of steaming buttery popcorn and another can of your favorite sparkling water (which he hates with a passion). Your eyes drift to your opened one on the side table, now seeing that it’s almost empty, a few sips left.

Remus snorts at an obscure joke one of the characters says in passing, and you snuggle up to him, maybe hugging his arm a little tighter than usual, afraid that a love this gentle can vanish between your fingers. He turns and recognizes the look on your face, returning the soft gaze. His free hand brushes a stray hair away, fingers lingering on your cheek.

“Thank you,” you find yourself murmuring. “For taking care of me.”

You had this conversation long time ago when you first started dating. Having been in some relationships and situationships before Remus, you thought you’ve seen it all. Known the twists and turns, what to ask for and when to keep quiet, what you owe and don’t. But he comes and does things that drove your mind haywire, body screaming foreign! unknown! when he leaves sweet and short scribbles on post-its and sticks it to random places that you’re bound to see somehow, your favorite fruits magically appearing on the basket after finishing the last piece yesterday, being able to count on one hand times where you had to touch the wheel and drive. Its all natural, unprompted, again like second nature. as much as you hated to admit, you’re a control freak. but it's easier this way when you know what comes and goes, what happens and what doesn’t, what won’t happen if you don’t do anything to get it. being with Remus and knowing his love is a shock as it is a clean slate. to unlearn roughness and rigid and know to be soft and vulnerable.

you’d thanked him. when he gave you a confuddled look, like he didn’t just make your heart grow two sizes bigger in one day. you then started enumerating things he did that made you feel appreciated and loved. you were expecting him to be happy that you see and celebrate his effort, any reaction honestly but a frown. “you don’t need to thank me for those things,” he had said, holding your hand and gently rubbing circles when he sensed that his reaction scared you. “That’s how I show my respect and care for you. ‘s nothing special, just what’s right.” You couldn’t stop the ugly sobs that came after that, when you realized that yes, this was the bare minimum of a healthy relationship, but you made space for less because that’s all you’ve ever gotten, even when you’d ask.

This time however, maybe because its near midnight and you’re both worn out for the day, Remus lets you. “Always.”

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #the marauders x reader #the marauders fanfiction #the marauders fanfic #the marauders #marauders era #marauders #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you

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priokskfm · 10 months ago

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#MixOfDay #Podcast #Radioshow #LiveDjset FSQ - Soul Clap Records 2024 Mix FSQ selects 24 tracks from Soul Clap Records' recent catalog of EFUNK type jams including cuts by XL Middleton, DJ Rocca, Soul Clap, Roccapofortuna, Zeynep Erbay, Moniquea, Tatie Dee, Nona Hendryx, The Illustrious Blacks, Funk Rimini and of course FSQ and more. @fsqofficial on all platforms FSQ Our story 📖 https://ift.tt/hdafYbO FSQ Our music 🎹 https://ift.tt/zKCiwP5 FSQ Best of FSQ on Spotify 🎧 http://bit.ly/fsq_playlist_spotify FSQ Weekly Radio 📻 https://ift.tt/1jSd0HE FSQ DJ Mixes via SoundCloud🎚️ https://ift.tt/Ey8MxFl FSQ DJ Mixes via MixCloud🎚️https://ift.tt/PXwnlsg FSQ Paradise ULTD Mix Series 🎚️ https://ift.tt/RbuMvlW www.priokskfm.online https://ift.tt/osTpfwW

#Priokskfm #mixofaday #Soul Clap Records #SoundCloud

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sevendavisjr · 2 years ago

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“Pandemonium” collab ep with @theillustriousblacks out May 9 on Soul Clap Records including 2 remixes from Osunlade/Yoruba Soul

#the illustrious blacks #seven davis jr #sevendavisjr #sev #soul clap records #pandemonium #osunlade #Yoruba soul

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faithsxoxo · 10 months ago

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pairing :: chloe price x reader note :: band au, you’re chloe’s manager and she’s the drummer ;) warnings :: very very implied nsfw

Chloe whips her head towards the door as it slams open. You stand the doorway, absolutely fuming.

“What were you thinking?” You exclaim, storming towards her.

“Careful, if you glare any harder you might pop a blood vessel,” Chloe leans back in her chair, absentmindedly chewing on the straw of her drink. She barely glances at you before returning to her phone.

“Listen,” you begin, already losing your patience, “I don’t care what you do in your spare time. That’s not my job. However, when your reputation is involved, that makes it my problem.” Chloe rolls her eyes.

“I went out and screwed a couple girls, so what? My ‘reputation’ shouldn’t matter to true fans,” She punctuates her sentence by kicking her legs up onto the table.

“Maybe this never occurred to you, but you’re not the only person in the world Chloe Price,” You spit. “Your public appearance may not matter to you, but being caught in scandals affects all of the band. I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for them.”

Chloe’s face crumples for a moment, but she recovers so quickly you almost think you imagined it. “Whatever,” She grumbles, turning away from you. “I get the point, you can fuck off now.” With a sigh, you turn around and walk out. You feel a pang of guilt, before washing it away. It’s not your fault she’s a raging cunt.

•

“7 minutes, going on in 7 minutes,” The headset crackles into your ears. You push into the dressing room where the three girls await you. Chloe is holed up in the corner, headphones leaking her punk rock playlist. Steph sits at the vanities brushing on finishing touches to her colorful face.

“You all ready?” You call, stepping over heaps of discarded clothes and accessories. “Just about,” Steph calls.

“6 minutes, 6 minutes all,” the radio calls again.

“I hate that thing,” Rachel grumbles, pacing the length of the room.

“Jesus, cool it Rach. You’re making me nervous,” Steph turns to face her.

“10,000 people in a stadium. To see our stupid fucking band,” Rachel sighs. “How am I supposed to cool it?”

“It’s really not a big deal, you’ve done this before,” you reassure, patting her arm lightly.

“5 minutes folks, 5 minutes on the clock. Can the band please meet behind the curtains, I repeat can the band join us on the stage,” The radio calls.

Rachel swears. Steph steps to her and wraps her arm around her shoulder.

“Come on Rach, no biggie. Just pretend they’re not there.”

She sighs.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

•

You stand slightly off stage, watching the scene unfold. Thousands of roaring fans carrying signs and lights filled the stadium, all of them reaching for the trio.

Cash Register Fire.

The band that you had put your heart and soul into getting signed. They deserved it, putting hundreds of hours of time into their music. You remember the first days of being with them, hanging out in their studio apartment. You sighed softly, recalling the sweet memories.

•

Laughter fills the room.

“Oh fuck-,” Chloe cries out as her cymbal crashes to the floor. You clap, leaning against the back wall.

“Very convincing. The records will love seeing this,” You giggle, shaking your head.

“Get used to it,” Chloe smirks, throwing her arm around you. “It’s part of the brand.”

“Chloe, don’t scare her off yet,” Rachel groans. “Nahhh,” Steph calls. “She’s already used to our bullshit.”

“Chloe’s bullshit,” Rachel corrects.

Chloe steps away from you, and you almost want to lean back into her.

“Shut the fuck up,” Chloe rolls her eyes.

•

Huh. You furrow your brows, pondering the moment. What had changed between you and Chloe? You crane your neck to see her on stage. Blue hair, tattoos, piercings, Chloe’s the definition of punk rock. Your cheeks flush. She looks incredible in that tank top. You catch yourself, shaking your head and stepping back. No. You cannot be thinking this about Chloe fucking Price. You turn around and walk away before you can think anything worse.

•

Finally, the show closes and the trio step backstage. “Holy shit you guys, you did amazing,” You exclaim, feeling prouder than ever. “You think?” Rachel sighs. “My voice cracked like 3 times.”

“Shut the hell up,” Chloe moans, punching Rachel in the shoulder. “You sang great and you know it.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Rachel rolls her eyes and pulls away. “Cmon, I’m fucking starving.”

As she pulls Steph away, you grab Chloe gently. “Er- nice work tonight,” you mumble, awkwardly. “Your drumming is… cool.”

“Cool drums. Uh- thanks for the feedback.” She runs her fingers through her hair. You nod slowly, avoiding eye contact.

“Listen- uh. You wanna ditch?” Chloe suggests quickly.

“…What?”

“Ditch. Y’know, go somewhere. Celebratory dinner or whatever,” She says.

“Oh. I mean, don’t you want to do that with the rest of the band?” You ask.

She shoves her hands in her pockets, embarrassed. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” She shakes her head. “It was a stupid idea anyway.”

“No! No, not at all,” You’re quick to respond. “I would love to go get something to eat.”

Her eyes widen, before falling back into her mock-annoyed expression.

“Yeah- I mean, yeah, I knew you were gonna say that. Okay, um, dinner.” Chloe grins slightly. “I know a place.”

•

You and Chloe pull up to a small diner on the edge of town. “Two whales,” You murmur.

“My mom owns the place,” Chloe explains. “But, uh, if you want to go somewhere else we can.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, this sounds nice. I’ve never been out here before,” You smile gently.

You both head inside and situate yourself in a booth.

“So.. not that i’m opposed to this, but what’s with the sudden change in attitude?” You question, smirking slightly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chloe grumbles, turning away.

“Oh? What, are you trying to rope me into a new scandal of yours?”

Chloe narrows her eyes.

“Again, my reputation isn’t your business. Just stop worrying about me,” She growls, crossing her arms and turning away.

“You mean doing my job?” You roll your eyes. “I’m not having this conservation with you again.”

“Then fucking don’t!” Chloe exclaims. “Can’t you fucking leave me alone?”

You slide out of the booth and glare at her.

“Fine, maybe I fucking will.” You grit, before storming out of the diner.

•

You sigh, burying your head in your arms. You had been working with CRF’s marketing team all morning trying to cover up Chloe’s newest ‘business’. After you had left her the previous night she had been spotted completely wasted in the closest bar. You almost felt bad. A knock on your office door makes you perk up. “Hey. How’s my favorite manager?” Rachel smiles softly.

“Ugh.” You groan, covering your face with your hands.

“Yeah, I know. But, listen, Chloe is.. not doing too well right now,” She informs.

“Okay? Can’t you handle that?” You grumble. She winces slightly.

“She locked herself in her room and won’t come out. We were hoping that she might let you in.”

“Why the hell would she let me in?” You question.

“Didn’t you use to be close? I know it’s a bit of a rough patch right now, but she might appreciate you trying,” Rachel replies with a nervous grin.

“I’ve been fucking trying. That’s all I do,” You shake your head in annoyance.

“Whatever. I’ll go see what she needs.”

•

“Chloe,” You bark, banging on her door. “Let me in.”

“What the fuck do you want?” She shouts, voice muffled from burying her face in her pillow.

“I want to know why you’re moping around. You’ve got everything you could possibly want, what more?” You fume.

Chloe pulls open the door with a huff.

“I do not have everything I want,” She growls.

“So what, you’re privileged enough to have most of it,” You cross your arms and narrow your eyes. “What else could you possibly want?”

Her gaze softens for just a moment, before returning to her glare.

“Something I can’t have,” She whispers.

“And what could that possibly be?” You roll your eyes.

Chloe suddenly grabs your arm and pulls you closer.

“Are you that fucking dense? Do I really need to spell it out to you?”

You gasp softly.

“Chloe..” You murmur.

Before you know it, her lips are on yours. You let yourself melt under her touch, wrapping your arms around her neck.

“Fuck,” She mumbles against your lips. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Maybe I don’t know,” You whisper, “But you can show me.”

She smirks and pulls you into her room, locking the door.

“Yeah, I’ll show you.”

#chloe price x reader #life is strange #life is strange x reader #chloe price #steph gingrich #rachel amber #life is strange fanfiction #faithsxoxo

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on-a-lucky-tide · 6 months ago

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Captain Price is completely oblivious to how attractive he is. Until Nikolai reminds him. For @lookoutrogue .

cw: none.

“He has no feckin’ idea,” Soap groused, slurping another mouthful of lager.

“Not a scooby. Pretty sure she could stick her tongue down his throat and he’d think she was lookin’ for advice on resuscitation technique.” Gaz slumped his chin into his palm and squinted.

“I mean, how’d’ye get tha’… oblivious?”

They had spent the last forty-five minutes since their arrival watching their captain entertain—or rather, be entertained by—a gaggle of young men and women seeking his attention. They were in one of those posh bars in central London where everyone seemed to want to get in everyone else’s knickers and it was nearly nine quid a pint. It was a bit bougie for their tastes, but it was one of the few places with a spare table near to where they needed to be.

“Dunno, but if she touches any further up his thigh she’s gonna end up grabbing a handful,” Gaz murmured, swirling the ice around in his gin and tonic.

“They’re hangin’ off his every word, like,” Soap threw his hand up in exasperation, “he’s talkin’ about sandin’ a feckin’ fence. Sanding. A. Fence. He ripped a lad’s throat open with a crowbar and rescued a foreign attaché of diplomats three days ago, but nope, it’s the Black and Decker that’s more interestin’.”

“That was a classified mission,” Ghost said quietly, cutting in with the low, unobstusive rumble that somehow snapped both Gaz and Soap to look at him. “Not exactly pick up line material.”

“Come off it, L.T. Like ye’ve never spun a yarn tae entertain,” Soap scoffed.

“Never.”

“Actually, I believe him,” Gaz said. “‘Sides, in that mask, it would come off more like a serial killer explainin’ how he’s gonna murder you than hot military hero. No offence, sir.”

“None taken.” Ghost sipped his bourbon and rolled said mask back down his face.

“Ye’ve known ‘im longes’,” Soap looked at Ghost, clearly desperate for answers, “has he always b’en like—“ he fluttered a hand in Price’s direction as the two young women and a fluffy looking twink hanging off his every word broke into raucous laughter at a joke that wasn’t even remotely funny, “—that.”

Ghost shrugged. “To get to where he is, he had to work hard. Gym, range, classroom, paperwork, mental preparation. You don’t graduate top of your class, praised to be the best in your field, by dossin’ around with skirt. Not a lot of time for… fraternising.”

“You have such a way with words, sir,” Gaz said, mildly amused.

Soap smirked wryly. “Aye, I c’n see that. But still, I c’n see why it took Nik a feckin’ decade. I wouldnae be surprised if he had tae be balls deep before—oh, hey, Nik! Over here!”

Soap stood to wave as a familiar looming figure in a brown leather jacket elbowed his way through the crowd, and spread his arms wide. “My brothers, you came!”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, mate,” Gaz said with a grin as he stood to receive the offered hug; Soap got a clap on the back of the shoulder and Ghost a shake of the hand. “So, how’d it go?” Gaz asked as he sat back down.

“Well,” Nik patted the right side of his jacket, slightly padded out with an envelope of paperwork, “it is official—I am now a British citizen.” Despite his smile, all three of them could see the sadness in his eyes. The kremlin had seen fit to strip his citizenship. He had said he was surprised it took them so long, but they had finally linked his alias, a face and a name on their records. It was difficult to maintain anonymity in retirement, so acquiring British citizenship had seemed the natural step to take given the last five years. He would always be Russian in body, heart and soul, but all three now belonged partly to someone else…

“Congratulations. We’re lucky to have you,” Ghost said, lifting his glass.

“Da, thank you,” Nik nodded, and then looked at the empty seats either side. “Where is the captain?”

“Holdin’ court,” Soap nodded towards the bar, “Ah’d get over there before he invites 'em over tae see his fish tank 'n loft conversion.”

Nik followed Soap's eye line and raised an eyebrow. He was a laid back man in most things, but when it came to John Price he had precisely zero chill. His back straightened and his shoulders squared, fingers twitching at his sides as he inspected the three people crowding around Price, lingering on the hand that was currently on his knee. “Please excuse me,” he said quietly.

Gaz smirked into his drink. “Get ‘em, mate.”

“Ahh, Nik!” Price beamed as he approached, swivelling on the bar stool to face him. “This is uhm… Jessica, was it? Derek and.. uh, sorry, I forg—Stacy? Stacy. I was just explainin’ how—mmph.”

Nik went straight in for the kiss without preamble. His hips slotted as easily between Price’s legs as their lips did together, his tongue sweeping into Price’s mouth to stake his claim. The hot flush went from the tips of Price’s ears to the v-neck of his t-shirt; he didn’t usually do public displays of affection, but Nik felt it was an equitable sanction. As he pulled away, Nik was happy to note that the three had drifted a little further down the bar, mumbling their excuses. Price didn’t notice; he only had eyes for Nik.

“What was that ‘bout?” Price croaked.

Nik hummed as he took Price’s left hand from his waist and held it up between their faces. “And here is the problem, no?”

“Ahh, Nik, it wasn’—I’m just—“

Nik ignored Price's flustered excuses as he grabbed the chain of his dog tags and pulled them from inside his shirt. The ring rattled softly against the stainless steel as Nik yanked the clasp open and extracted it from its customary place next to his heart. A lesser man might have thought ill of the whole thing, but it had been Nik’s idea; the risk of de-gloving on an op was high, and it would only get lost if shoved in a pocket or at the bottom of a duffel bag.

“It is better this way,” Nik had said softly late one night, “because they will bring it back to me if—“

“N’aw,” Price had replied, “I’ll always bring it back myself, right? Along with my sorry arse, no matter what state it’s in.” It had been an empty promise given Price’s job, but Nik had kissed the comfort from his lips as he’d said those words anyway.

At home, however, it went back on. Price was forgetful. Too much going on behind those pretty blue eyes to think of such a small adjustment. Nik slid the ring back onto Price’s hand and then kissed the back of his knuckles. “Better.”

“I forget, ’m sorry, that wasn’t—“

“I know,” Nik said. “But it will put off the predators.”

“Predators?”

“Johnathan, they were ready to eat you—vodka, on ice,” Nik glanced at the barman only briefly as he gave his order, returning to Price’s eyes as they glittered up at him.

“Eat m—? We were chattin’ about gardenin’.”

“You were discussing gardening, they were not here to discuss.”

Price’s mouth clicked shut. “Ah.”

“Ah, indeed.”

“Well, thanks for the exfil…”

Nik smirked. “Always.”

“How’d it go?”

Nik reached into his pocket and extracted a dark navy passport, flipping it open so Price could see the identity within—Nikolai Price, M, British Citizen.

“Well, bloody hell, would’ya look at that?” Price took it in both hands, thumb drifting over the photograph affectionately. “You know, I’m surprised you changed to your alias, and didn’t keep—“

“I am not that man anymore,” Nik said. “I am… everything we have built together, and will continue to build. I prefer it this way.”

Price smiled, folding the passport closed to slot it back inside Nik’s jacket. He studied Nik’s face closely, saw the sadness there but also the relief. His home had been taken from him the moment he had turned, but he had slowly, and at times painfully, built himself a new one. With Price. Fuck, they could be on the other side of the world, and Nik would still be ‘home’, because ‘home’ was a man, not a place, and Price had come round to the same line of thinking. It had just taken him a little longer to realise.

“I love you, Kolya,” Price said softly.

Now it was Nik’s turn to flush, his cheeks tinging a soft pink as he processed the open affection he was still growing accustomed to. “And I you, captain.”

“Oi, lovebirds, use that officer’s salary and get a round in, L.T.’s bein’ a tight-fisted bastart!’

Nik chuckled and reached into his pocket for his wallet. “This one is on me, as they say.”

“I’ll take a double scotch then. We’ve got some celebratin’ t’do.”

“Ofiget… da, da, barman!”

#captain john price #cod nikolai #pricenik #nikprice #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #cod #call of duty

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secretress · 9 months ago

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❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞.❞

Who is your soul tribe?

Subliminal channel | Masterlist

Tips | Paid Readings

This is a tarot card reading. I pulled out 2-3 cards for each pile and a little bit of advice.

18+ readings: @enchantressiren

Pictures | divider

Pile I

Knight of cups and nine of swords.

Your soul tribe is mainly focused on forgiveness, love, devotion to yourself, and humanity. I am seeing a group of people wearing stereotypical, spiritual clothing, and they are in a circle together, as there is a fireplace in the middle of them. And one person is playing an acoustic guitar. Some of the other people are slowly clapping their hands or using an instrument to make a sound that is calming for the mind. I see someone with a wooden shaker, and that person is someone who is dear to you. And then I see you sitting on the log as they all do this beautiful relaxing song for you, as now you are part of the tribe, and you will listen and sway your head back and forth, and you’ll feel so much peace within. And my intuition says, “this is the first time I have felt peace. I am finally with my people. Thank you, (whoever higher up you believe in).” My intuition basically explains how you finally found the people who were already fated for you, but at the same time who are there for you to feel the sensation of happiness and accomplishment because they are your soul tribe. This is your fated destiny, as it is meant for your soul to find its right destination and finally feel complete.

With the knight of cups, you were able to follow what your heart wanted instead of what you have been doing for most of your life. You have been someone who was a follower and someone who always used logic instead of focusing on what was in your heart. You have a desire for a journey because everything in your life, as of this moment, is stale and the same. Nothing changes, and you try so hard for change. For a sense of purpose, but nothing happens as you keep chasing. And you are confused about what to do. So stop chasing; don’t even worry about attracting. Just do what your heart wants, and you will get everything you want.

The nine of swords, indicates anxiety and a feeling of despair and hopelessness, and that’s how you feel right now. You are afraid to stop chasing and find your people—your soul tribe because you believe that everything you do comes to a complete failure. But that’s because you focus on logic instead of your heart. You must focus on what your heart wants, and if you cannot figure it out, then take some time alone and figure out what you want. Write them down, talk to yourself, record them, scroll on random websites, and figure out what sounds appealing to you and what makes you happy. And once you do that, and your mindset hits your ideal, you will find your soul tribe since it’s the end of the destination.

Masterlist | Paid Readings

Pile II

Four of swords reversed, ace of wands, and knight of pentacles.

Immediately from your soul tribe, I can feel such enthusiasm, excitement, and screaming of ''AHHHHHH, I LOVEEEE YOUUUU,’’ and ‘’you mean the world to us, keep rockin’!’’ Wow, your soul tribe is made up of very cheerful and loving people who will always praise you for the little things you do in your life. For example, let's say you passed your exam and it wasn't a big deal to you, but to them, it is everything. They will be celebrating everything with such huge smiles on their faces, and all of this is genuine. I can feel your energy, ‘’is this really going to happen?’’ and yes, it will happen. You deserve their love, not because you chose this pile, but because you are a worthy human being who deserves the best love. So, with the four of wands reversed, this card focuses on restlessness, burnout, stress, and this is your overall energy. You guys keep trying to please your parents, those around you, your role models, etc., but you haven't tried to please yourself. You already see no point in rewarding yourself because you aren't getting the validation you deserve from these people, but remember.. You must learn to ask for your own validation because, at the end of the day, we only have ourselves. I know that you guys love the work you do and you guys think it's the best, but you lose your encouragement because of them, so stop going to them for it and find your validation from within.

As I was reading, 11:11 pm appeared on my phone, and this angel number is about the journey of having your manifestation come to you. This shows that you are on the right path and that you shouldn't give up. Keep moving forward and keep striving for what you want, not what others want. All of your manifestations are coming to you; you truly do not have to worry!

Your soul tribe will also be focusing on how you express your power within—basically, how you express how you feel with others and how you can show who is boss. They want to help you understand that everyone is powerful because they're the boss of their reality and that no one should stop them from doing what they love. I hear that a lot of you guys want to focus on the art industry, but the people around you will not support you with it because it's ‘’impossible=ble’’ to make money as an artist, but remember this: whatever you desire, whatever you want, if you keep doing what makes you happy, you will have what you desire because your vibration increases to the right frequency to gain this abundance. In other words, keep doing what makes you happy, and abundance will appear because of the happy energy that is within you. This goes for the rest of you as well. Some of you guys are thinking about majoring in business to have your own business, and you want to have the knowledge to have it, so keep striving for what you believe will work.

With the knight of pentacles, this card speaks about efficiency, hard work, and responsibility, which explains why I mentioned manifestations. Your soul tribes are already master manifestors; whenever they want something, it always comes to them because they have a strong belief system and they have done what they wanted. They will show you the same knowledge they have learned because they know that you are worthy of it and that everyone deserves this knowledge. They go by the motto ‘’knowledge is power.’’ They know it is powerful and can be used in the wrong way. That is why they are selective with the right people because they don't want anyone to harm this knowledge. At the same time, they do it without expecting anything, despite the hard work they put in to show their friends or tribe all about it. They know that no one in it will use it maliciously, and they have a feeling in their heart, or heart chakra, that no one in their tribe will trick them. So, you should stop seeing yourself as a bad person too. How can a ‘’bad’’ person be a part of this welcoming and trustworthy tribe if they believe that those who are good within deserve this knowledge? No, they do not believe that a bad person on the outside isn't worthy of it. They can feel the energy of people and will determine if their hearts are good. For example, my intuition tells me that one of your soul tribe members is a criminal who killed many people but has made amends with their dues. They have changed drastically to the point where they are an advocate for those who have their children killed and will protect anyone.. Does this sound like a bad character? No, it is not—definitely not in my book and surely not in theirs. My intuition also tells me, ‘’my dear, you have a harsh conception of what is wrong and right. You must reduce this negative thinking and understand what it is like.. To be someone who is actually bad, you are a good soul, and you are deserving of love. Change your mindset to meet your tribe.’’

Masterlist | Paid Readings

Pile III

The star, queen of wands (reversed), and king of pentacles (reversed).

Before I explain who your soul tribe is, I want to get in depth with how you feel before I tell you. I feel a huge sense of jealousy, possessiveness, anger, frustration, etc. I want to take control of other people and treat them like puppets. But these are not my thoughts. These are your thoughts, your inner feelings, and how you have been projecting to other people because you deem yourself worthy, but everyone else is incompetent compared to you. You have a stick up your ass. And you can get mad at me if you like to, but I like to keep my readings as honest as I can. So, I want you to fully understand that everyone is intelligent in their own way. People will not have the same hobbies as you and will not understand things the same way you do. If everyone was like that, everything would be boring and monotonous. Do you want a world that is like you for every single thing? That would be like cloning yourself constantly, and you would be sick of it. I know you would be. So reduce your possessive energy because if you don’t, you will not find your soul tribe, and I want you to. I want you to improve yourself as a person and find the people who are going to elevate you to a higher level. I believe that everyone deserves a second chance. Everyone is deserving of love, no matter what happened in their past, because the past is the past. But you must make that change in your life to have what you desire in it. You must change your thoughts—you wonder why the things that you want aren't coming into your life; you aren’t aligned with what you desire. You are only aligned with negativity because your mindset is negative.

To start off with your soul tribe, who are they? Your soul tribe will give you the hope that you want. I know that a lot of you have had extremely shitty childhoods and that you’re actually projecting that feeling because your father or your grandfather always said that they were better than you, that they are better than other people, and that no one is deserving of anything good except them. I’m hearing a huge God complex. And it is okay to think of yourself as worthy, great, and powerful. To have a mindset like this where you think you are better than everyone and you’re more superior really allows your ego to win, and instead of allowing yourself to fully understand and be like, “ok I’m not better than everyone else, but I’m not worthless either; I’m worthy of things I desire, and that is my truth.” This will help you understand that you don’t have to go all the way into that mindset to be confident. You can be confident and empathetic toward other people.

I’m also feeling that when you do reduce this mindset and find your soul tribe, you are going to be happy and full of abundance in your life. You are going to be able to feel a sense of fulfillment like a phoenix when it dies. Think of the tarot card for death. Death represents a new chapter in her life, like our old shelves have melted away and we are coming to our path, and a stronger version of us is a more healthy, more compassionate part of ourselves that we used to deem unworthy because it showed vulnerability, but vulnerability is okay to have. Vulnerabilities and emotions make us human, and it’s completely normal to have them. When we become more tuned to our vulnerability and emotions, we experience more peace and happiness. You cannot have happiness and peace without understanding your emotions.

With your soul tribe, they will teach you how to release anger and how to release your anxiety. You have this assumption that you are just pure consciousness, that the thoughts that you have in your mind or just pure experiences don’t necessarily exist, and as you breathe in and out, you will allow your mind to let your thoughts pass by, like driving a car. They will teach you how to go into the roots of your trauma, and they will teach you how to use those roots in a positive way instead of allowing them to affect your life in a negative way. They will teach you how to earn abundance in your life without having a greedy mindset. With the king of pentacles reversed, this card focuses on greed, indulgence, and sensuality. Basically, my intuition tells me they will be teaching you how to lift off your spirits into a higher light to achieve your higher self, because my tarot card that has king of pentacles is a man who has veins, trees, and roots covering him and chaining him up. There are animals near him, and in the background there’s a fox, and then his hair is scattered and pulled up, but on top is a white circle. So my intuition tells me this is you; you are the man here. The roots that are around the man are your thoughts and the possessiveness that you have at the moment. The animals surrounding him are your soul tribe. There is a fox, a raccoon, and a badger.

Foxes are known to be highly intuitive, and they are playful and secretive, but they are compassionate to those who are close to them. Raccoons are smart. They have great solutions to their problems, and they think I have a box. They focus on their surroundings, and they’re very present in the moment. Badgers are those who protect others and themselves, and they want to fulfill what they desire, mainly about humanity as well. My intuition tells me that badgers like to help other badgers, they like to help themselves, they like to make a community, and such.

So why am I explaining to the animals that I see you? My intuition tells me that each animal that is in my tarot card is your community or your soul tribe. I hear the leader is the fox, the people in your soul tribe are the raccoons, and you are the badger deep down inside. I know you are the badger. Despite possessing that negativity energy that you had surrounding you before your trauma developed, you were extremely sweet, so damn loving, and so helpful that you were always there for other people. But then things start to happen, and you start chaining up that sweet and loving soul and a fear to protect yourself, but I want you to remember that it’s okay to be a good person to care about other people. Just try to make sure that you know who the good people are and who the bad are, and if you cannot tell, try to use your intuition. And do not tell me that you do not have intuition because you had to find this pile that was right for you. You must learn to trust yourself, because that is how you will find your soul tribe too.

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incorporealbombchelle · 2 months ago

Text

On Earth As It Is In Heaven

Mr.Reed x Fem! Reader (Mid 20s) (18+)

Synopsis: Pt. 3 - (y/n) is introduced to a new system of belief...

⚠️TW: Percieved Heresy, Catholicism Mentions, Condescension, Crude Language, Possible Vague and Obscure Spoilers for 'Heretic' (2024), Age Gap, Lectures, Blood, Violence, A Somewhat Graphic Depiction of Gore, Oral Sex (Male Recipient), Raw P in V Penetration, Terror & Tense Situations, General Smut.

When I come to I'm clothed, and my body is seemingly unharmed but I still feel fuzzy, disoriented. The taste of the wine I shared with Mr. Reed remains on my tongue and I swallow, noticing a faint smell of perfume and... something else? Something coppery....

I breathe as deeply and quietly as I can and allow my eyes to open. A small room, dimly lit and painted green. It's lined with paintings of gods and prophets, shelves of books and records, and a vinyl player sits off to the side, similar to the bedroom. Looking down, I realize I'm seated in a pew, of which there are rows. Is this... a church?

Two doors line the wall ahead of me, one green and one purple, behind a large desk with a half-burned candlestick on it. From the green door, Mr. Reed emerges in the checkered cardigan I remember him in from when he first ushered me inside, and the pajamas he threw on after we...

I'm extremely confused.

"Well hello!! Look at you!! How're you feeling? Bit groggy, I'd imagine? You were just a *touch* over served, that's on me." He admits, stashing a bright green watering can under the desk and grabbing his notebook and pencil off of it to write something down.

"Seventeen Hours. Good." He looks back to me, an excited grin on his face.

"Mister Reed?" I ask softly.

"Ms. (y/n)?" He chuckles, taking a step closer.

"What happened? What is this? How did I get here?"

"You were drugged, this" he gestures around us "is an institution of learning, and you were carried here. Anything further? No? Good. Let's get cracking!" He claps, rubbing his hands together and I jump in my seat.

"Whu-" I'm more confused than I was initially after this brief, unhelpful explanation but he prattles on;

"A few miligrams of temazepam in the wine, nothing lethal." He narrows his eyes, pointing a finger at me "You were indoctrinated into catholicism from what age?"

"I was baptized at two...why d-"

"Two. Years. Old. TWO, (Y/N)!! Forgive me but that's fucking ridiculous. You had no information and no way of consenting to whatever 'soul-protecting' rituals catholics do to children at two years of age.

You have lived your entire life by the teachings of a cult, my dear. A popular cult with a good handle on architecture and design, but a cult all the same. With their gaudy, artsy buildings and their priests wrapped up in silk and you," he looks me over, his expression sympathetic "Full of all that eternal guilt and shame for your entirely natural feelings and urges. For what? A reward only recieved after death? Heaven is about as meaningful to the living as a gold star sticker on a child's spelling test and I believe, no I know, that you're aware of this, (y/n). "

He sits on the edge of the desk as he lectures me and I take a second to look myself over.

These.... are not my clothes. A long, dark grey wool skirt with... a short-sleeved black mock neck sweater tucked into it..., the inside of the right sleeve is caked in some dark, calcified stain... These are... comfortable clothes, modest clothes, thank God, but they. Are not. Mine. I shudder. How did he get these? And where is this lecture going? He pulls a few different versions of monopoly and the landlord game from the nearby shelves and likens them to different religions, laying a holy book atop each and telling me about 'iterations' and I am not listening and the stain on the inside of my sleeve that isn't my sleeve is almost definitely someone's blood and now I'm scared and what is going on? There's an immense pressure in my head and I'm breathing too fast -- is this how I die?

In this decidedly unholy place, amongst all these artifacts I've been told would protect me, at the hands of a man who not only led me into temptation, but now purports to have the ability to deliver me from evil? Is he the evil? I'm overwhelmed and I cry.

I cry like I have never cried before. My face is wet and I'm sobbing and I'm hyperventilating and Mr. Reed finally stops talking so I look up, flushed, snivelling, unsure of his next move.

He seems shocked for a moment, eyes widening. Then his brow furrows again as he leaves his place at the desk to stand beside me. "Shhh, shhh, come now. That's a bit dramatic, eh? Catholic school lasts what, twelve years? You can stand to listen to an old man drone on for a minute."

He sheds his cardigan, draping it over my shoulders as they shake. He produces a tissue from one of his pockets and brings it to my face, dabbing away my tears. "You've been extraordinary for me so far, (y/n)." Mr. Reed scoots into the pew next to me, his eyes catch mine and he hums, reassuring "Such a virtuous, reasonable, obedient girl." I take a breath, resenting how much I lust after his blessing, his praise. "See, I'm just introducing you to something new. Something different than that to which you're accustomed," He resumes, snaking an arm around my shoulder "When you walked in here, you weren't used to having your beliefs challenged. Only affirmed. It was scary, mm? But you let me in. You let me experience all of you, inside and out, because somehow, somewhere, deep inside, you know I'm right. You know this is right : what we do, who we are together. You taught me your doctrine, I owe it to you to teach mine."

"But you- you requested the- why...?" My voice cracks.

He squeezes my shoulder, speaking softly into the crook of my neck "Knowledge, (y/n), is power. Power is... what? Mm? What does power give to us?"

I shiver at the feeling of his breath on my neck and silently curse myself for welcoming it. "Uhm..." I look up at him, uncertain "Control?"

"Control! Exactly! Brilliant!"

I can't help the small smile that arrives on my face at knowing the correct answer to one of his questions.

"Control is the root of each of these doctrines." He gestures to the desk with the games and books laid out on it "Think of your church. Sit, stand, kneel, listen to some old twat tell you you're unworthy of heaven, sit, stand kneel, stand, sing, kneel again, eat some crackers, go home. It's all programming. They have you learn all that bovine choreography not because it amplifies your prayers to some all knowing benevolent being, but because it subdues you. It tires you out. Makes your body ache. You need something to do with your hands in those pews so you fold them in reverence because idle hands are the devil's playthings, are they not?"

"... Sure.... Mister Reed? Whose clothes are these?"

"Some things aren't for us to know, (y/n). And some are. Like how I know," he smiles "that you are going to continue to be keen for me, stop asking ridiculous questions, and do what I say. Because we're both thoroughly aware of the fact that I am your god now." His breath is hot on my neck as he chuckles, I can feel his grin, and I flinch.

He's in control. Older. Wiser. Stronger. Smarter. I look up into his eyes and he kisses me before I can even think to move away. His tongue tackles mine, fingers lacing into the hair at the nape of my neck, his other hand squeezes my thigh, my eyes roll back "mmh-" and maybe he is God. He breaks the kiss, looking me over.

His eyes undress me and I wish his hands would follow suit but they don't.

"Walk to the desk, stand in front of it."

I do as he says. There are 4 rows of pews on either side of the room and at the end of the aisle there is a door that seems to lead into a hallway. As I make note of this, Mr. Reed gets up from his place and begins stacking the books and board games, placing them on the floor beside the desk, and setting the needle on the vinyl player. He stands before me, bringing a hand up to stroke my cheek.

The song he's selected begins with a wavering guitar note, and I recognize it immediately. 'If, I could make a wish, I think I'd pass, can't think of anything I need-'

"Have you heard this song before, (y/n)?"

'No, cigarettes no sleep, no light, no sound...' the song plays on.

"Of course, Mr. Reed. 'The Air That I Breathe' by The Hollies? Everyone knows this song."

He closes the short distance between us, smirking down at me as his fingers trail the outside of my arms.

"Not. Everyone. And certainly not everyone your age. Your generation is a mess. All depression and 'memes' and vanity," he rolls his eyes "but it's obvious that you, my dear, are something totally different. You're a person of tradition, sure, but more importantly, one of great intellect. We share this trait. Because of it, people shy away from us. Ostracize us. Call us 'crazy' or 'obsessive' of our interests. Hence why no one's come here looking for you. To them," he takes my hands in his "We are alien in our entirety. But to Me, you are an angel. A lost lamb, searching for truth in every interaction, looking for a god in all things. You were destined to find me eventually, to be freed of your inhibitions and made new... "

His eyes are wide and I watch them flicker with something unidentifiably terrifying. The song ends and the record skips as the room's momentarily warm ambiance is replaced by silence again.

"Mis-mister Reed?" I blink "I won't lie, you're scaring me-"

"Enlightenment can be an entirely horrifying journey. Knowing our souls at a depth others might only see as aspirational...It is scary," he squeezes my hands and my palms are sweating but he doesn't let go, instead lowering himself to whisper in my ear "but are you frightened more of the depth of knowledge you've acquired, in your short time here?... Or how much you've enjoyed yourself doing so? After all," he continues, "good girls aren't supposed to."

"Aren't supposed to...?"

He pushes his cardigan off my shoulders, letting it fall onto the desk behind me. He then tugs down the zipper on the side of my skirt that isnt my skirt and it slips off my hips, crumpling at my feet. He pushes the fabric of the sweater over my breasts, exposing me further, running a thumb lightly over one nipple, and I wince at the sensitivity of my own body, taking my lower lip between my teeth.

"Aren't supposed to let me do that. But you do. And good girls, (y/n)," he reaches his opposite hand between my legs, feeling how slick I've become over the course of his lecture "don't get wet in dangerous situations... with strange men..." He runs his fingers along my vulva, pressing up gently as he scans my flushed face for a reaction, which he gets easily, as my body responds before I can, bucking against his hand desperately. His fingers dip into me a few times and I moan, breath ragged as I melt for him.

"I-" I am defenseless. I know it and so does he. Mr. Reed knows I'll take anything he gives, give him anything he wants, that I'm addicted to the lightest touch of his hand or gentle word from his lips.

"You, (y/n), are not a good girl. They don't want it, need it, the way you do. Barnes would never behave for me the way you have..." He mutters, bringing his two fingers from one set of lips to the other and my core is tense with anticipation. I don't question him, though I want to. Barnes..?

"Open." I do. Mr. Reed watches my eyes and he doesn't need to tell me to suck because I am a good girl, and my face burns with white-hot shame as I reach for his already half-hardened cock, ready to prove it to him.

I squeeze his shaft gently and it twitches in my hand, stiffening for me as if on command. He takes his fingers from my mouth and watches me play with it through the thin pajama pants, intrigued. "Go on then."

That's all the permission I need and I sink to my knees, taking his boxers and pajama pants down with me as I watch his cock spring forward, throbbing.

I wrap a hand around it, looking up at Mr. Reed as I slowly stroke. I watch open-mouthed as a bead of precum dribbles from his tip. Snapping out of my trance, I lick the underside of his length from base to tip before taking him into my mouth as far back as I can, bobbing my head over him slowly

"Ohhh..." he groans "You are dirty, (y/n). One orgasm and you're on your knees, doing anything for more... you'll get it too..." his hands find my hair again and he thrusts himself deeper into my throat, tears immediately welling in my eyes and cascading down my cheeks as I gag on him "Mmmh, you'll get over that gag reflex eventually," he grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks me painfully upwards, spinning me around by the shoulders and bending me over the desk "but today is simply *not* that day, I'm afraid..."

He's inside me instantly, ramming forcefully against my cervix as he stretches me out again. I feel myself clench a couple times around him and he slows his pace, making me groan in annoyance as much as pleasure.

"Please, Mr. Reed," I whimper

"Not... yet..." he murmurs, affixing his hands to the front of my hips as he resumes his agonizing strokes.

"Mister Reed I can't-" I moan

"I said, Not. Yet." He gives a slow, hard thrust with each word and it's all I can do not to push back onto him. As the rhythm of his hips builds I feel an internal coil prime itself to snap, and right as Mr. Reed's fingers find my clit, it does.

"Ohh my gohddd, Mister Reeeed!!"

I see white as my body pulses around him, coming entirely undone in hot, flowing waves as I convulse, glazing his length.

He keeps fucking me, forcing soft, raspy moans from my lips.

"Whose are you?" He commands, a hand wrapping around my throat as he pistons into me, his grip firm.

"Yours!" I whine.

"And to whose. Fucking. Creed. Do you devote yourself? Quickly..."

"Yours Mister Reed! I take no others before you! Just you, only you..." the words fall from my mouth as a distressed whimper before I can process their meaning and I gasp as I feel him fill me with thick, hot ropes of semen.

He groans as he comes inside me, slowing pace gradually before pulling out.

He grabs the discarded skirt from the floor and cleans himself off with it, then holds it between my legs as my tender, limp body recovers. He waits a few seconds, tugging his pants and boxers back up his legs, then walks to the purple door with the skirt in hand, tossing it into whatever room waits beyond.

"Only. Me. Hm?" He chortles under his breath. "Only you Mister Reed!" He mocks in an exaggerated American accent, circling the desk and turning me over, scooping his arms under my legs and torso to lay me across it longways. He tugs the sweater he'd dressed me in the rest of the way off my body so I'm laid out bare before him, still attempting to catch my breath. "I take it youre not a practicioner of idolatry then. " He chuckles.

"Only... you...I promise...just you Mr. Reed." I breathe, opening my eyes, my gaze focused on the ceiling.

He hums, smirking down at me. I feel him run a finger down my torso.

"Gorgeous little zealot, and so easily converted... begs a question, did you ever really believe those things you preached to me?"

"Mostly?" I cringe at the admission, exhaling deeply.

"Mostly. From my understanding this is the typical experience of Catholicism, yes? You... grow up, being hammered over the head with flawed logic, you stop believing about halfway through middle school, feeling like a complete fraud at your confirmation into the faith, and some years later, just the way R.E.M. describes it, you lose your religion either to one that makes sense, or to one that roams so far from your parents' ideals that you feel like a rebellious teen in your twenties, having cracked the code. Hm? Sound correct?"

I feel understood, yet ashamed as his words sink in. "Y-yes, Mr. Reed, I'd say that's accurate.." I mumble.

His hands are warm as he pulls me up into a seated position on the desk, pressing a soft kiss into my forehead before letting his chin rest gently on top of my head. "It's so hard to be misunderstood the way you are, (y/n)," he mutters, arms wrapping around my shoulders, holding me tight against his chest "the way we have been..." Mr. Reed rubs gentle circles into my back, soothing me further, and I let my hands rest on his back, keeping him there. He goes on;

"But that's all over now, now that you've found the only true faith, my singular infallible doctrine. You do trust in my control of you, don't you, (y/n)?" He withdraws slightly, scanning my face.

A beat.

"Yes, Mr. Reed. I entrust myself to you fully. I know you'll guide me righteously,-"

"But you hesitated. I allowed you my blessing, my sacrament. I placed my seed within you, allowing our souls to entwine, and you hesitate when I ask you to verbally acknowledge your trust in me as your singular deity?"

"I'm just a little bit fatigued, from the-" I breathe, confused

"Oh, (y/n)... tsk... and you were doing so well..." a pitied expression colors his features as he stares down at me, taking a step back.

"Wait, wait, what do you me-"

"That just won't do, I'm afraid-"

I watch his arm hack an invisible line through the air and my ability to breathe is instantly diminished. My hands rush to my neck, and only when I feel a warm gush come forth does it dawn on me that he's holding a box cutter, with which he has just slit my throat open in one fluid swipe.

"Mister Reed-" I wheeze, barely a whisper "why?"

"Faith must be unwavering. There is no room here for hesitance. For ambivalence. For selfishness."

I choke out sputtering breaths in a desperate attempt to prolong my conciousness, but the edges of my vision start to tint in spite of my efforts. Tears run hot down my face as I silently plead with him, but Mr. Reed resumes his rant unaffected;

"Too innocent to prophecise, and setting you free, well that would never work... but don't worry dear, sweet angel. It's really not you... its me. I require a perfect convert with true, unwavering belief in my principles to aid in execution of these experiments...it is sad though, we really could've been something, mm?" He looks me over affectionately, even now, as fresh blood pours ceaselessly from the wound and down my chest, torso, and thighs.

I cough, tipping forward some and watch blood spatter his white cotton shirt. "Please-" I croak weakly, reaching for him. He steps back further, brows raised.

"If it's meant to be, (y/n), you'll resurrect for me, certain of your faith. And if not, well," he gives me an awkward grimace, "I bid you adieu then, and wish you comfort in the fact that you were of great use to me in your... " he checks his watch "Eight hours here." A fond smile.

I fall forward off the desk and onto the carpet, my head bouncing against the floor with an excruciating thud. I watch Mr. Reed take a seat in one of the pews as he watches me spasm in shock and struggle to breathe through a series of garbled croaks, gasps, and wheezes, stifled by the flow of my own blood coating my larynx.

My mouth opens and closes a few times, hands still weakly striving to stem the steady gush from my lacerated neck, but nothing comes out as my body goes rigid in shock, my eyes lose sight, and I lose conciousness for the last time.

There is no white light. There is no chorus of angels.

Only a profound darkness, and once I find myself wrapped in its undertoe, I've drowned completely.

#em.fic3 #mr reed #mr reed x reader #mr. reed #fanfic #mr reed smut #mr. reed heretic #hugh grant #😬😬😬#he kinda...#yall are gonna hate me for this one #on earth as it is in heaven fic #mr. reed x reader #smut

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