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ma1dita · 5 months

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love me dry

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4.5k

summary: (post-TLT) The one where he meets you at his mother’s house, though both of you didn’t expect the other to be there. A glimpse into May Castellan’s perfect day (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: sorry for the hiatus! been on the study grind and didn’t even notice, but i’ve been working on this for a bit! macbeth references (comment if you catch them/or ask and i’ll yap) and slight suggestive stuff under the cut—but anyways let’s just say the prophecy by taylor swift came out at the right time.

(posted 4/19/24, semi-edited)

—

The drive to Westport has become almost an afterthought in these past few years— in the way you unconsciously reach for your favorite hoodie on the way out the door or tuck in your chair before you leave a table, almost automatic but ingrained with a touch of care.

With letters to May Castellan occupying your passenger seat instead of the boy who wrote them, you’d make the drive multiple times but stop short just before the property line. It took months of parking at the bottom of the hill and just watching the sun set on the little house, so clearly being able to imagine a smaller version of him running around and wreaking havoc.

Little Luke, with bandaged knees and feet that move as fast as his motor mouth, amber eyes glinting like windchimes in the summer breeze. His mom must’ve watched him play by himself through the bay window before calling him home when the clouds covered the horizon, wispy tendrils stretching over the rain gutter like how lovers hold hands. It must’ve reminded her a lot of his father, leaving nothing but the open air in his wake. Still, all of this was familiar to you too—despite having never stepped foot in the white house.

But knowing Luke meant knowing his home like it was a part of you.

The old hatchback’s engine gently rumbled against the quiet of the property each time you visited, and May would wait for you to come near— waiting for you to be ready to walk into a mausoleum of the boy you both once knew. You were familiar to her too, even as a blurry figure hunched over the steering wheel. She’s seen your face in the small glimpses between the shattering earth of her reality and the hazy foresight she lets herself succumb to remember what her son looks like. In every vision of him since he’s left, you’ve been there; and something about that quells the pain and anguish that it brings to her body when she sees it. But May Castellan is ever an observant woman, gift of prophecy aside. A mother always knows.

It also turns out that she makes excellent conversation over a plate of slightly singed chocolate chip cookies.

—

Luke Castellan is years older than the version of him that last sat at this kitchen table. He doesn’t know if he’s any wiser for it—wondering if he’s made a mistake in coming back here after all this time as he watches his mom hustle around the kitchen that’s suspiciously sparkling clean. A silver spoon clinks against the glass pitcher that May stirs mixed berry Kool-Aid in, his favorite, he remembers, and it makes him squint against the light that filters through the gauzy curtains of the windowpane above the sink. Luke could’ve sworn that there used to be badly patched rips in the fabric, but he attributes it to the dark corner of his memory he still hides away like a secret. Sitting there and taking it all in, he wonders what it would’ve been like to actually grow up here—to stay, for once.

But that’s something he doesn’t have the privilege of knowing. When his mom turns to hand him a glass with her shaking hands, wrinkles and laugh lines are mapped across the expanse of her face. He’ll never know how they got there. The wooden chair creaks under him, groaning under the weight that he carries and Luke once again feels uncomfortable in a place he once called home.

“Knew you’d come back. A mother always knows,” May mutters, voice disembodied like she’s floating just out of reach. Her hands clasped over his, rubbing her thumbs over the veins as if she’s checking his pulse (or the possibility of him being an apparition) and the crack in her smile mirrors his. But this isn’t the home he remembers—his frontal lobe was underdeveloped back then and the only plan it could form was the one to get him the hell out of Westport, there’s something different in the details. Tiny things, like the patio swing chain reattached to its post, a mended table leg, and ceramic tiles on the countertop unbroken and smooth. This is a home and a mother he once longed for as a kid, along with the feeling of comfort and safety you can only attribute to a place like this.

Calculating eyes scan the perimeter of the kitchen, but no one knows he’s made the trip to Westport, not even his own crew. Surely nothing could mess this up for him, not here. This was his last step before his quest for redemption eats away at his physical body, and then it will all be out of his hands.

There’s not much left for me here, he thinks— there’s not much of me left here, either.

Then Luke hears you before he sees you—the sound of you humming under your breath mixed with the jingle of keys turning in the front door. With bags of groceries leaving marks on your arms and a soft smile he hasn’t seen you wear in ages, for once you look lighter again. For a moment, the thought crosses his mind that this must be what you look like when he’s not around. Nonetheless, he breathes easier when you’re near. Of course, you’re here, and the irony grips him by the neck almost as if to make it known why his home feels like home again.

“Yeah hon, I’ll have to call you back,” you laugh into your headphones before tapping them with one free finger to end the call. In a split second, your eyes meet. Staggering back at the sight of him sitting at the table and the absolute grin on May’s face, you decide to continue into the space ahead and start putting the groceries away like nothing is out of sorts.

“I see you have a visitor, Miss May. Is he staying long?”

Luke sips at his glass, juice extra tart just how he likes it. His lips pucker at the taste it leaves in his mouth and when he opens his mouth there’s a hint of blue. You try not to look too long.

“For the night,” he answers, even if you weren’t talking to him, but it makes May so vibrant with the notion of him not running again that she instantly hops to her feet and rushes to make the bed in his old room. “I won’t be in your way,” he swallows. You gravitate towards him like a moth to a flame, but move around his chair without touching him—further proving that Luke is, in fact, an obstacle you must overcome. He’s a stranger in his own home and you’ve found yourself at ease in it. You wonder if any of that will make a difference in the long run.

“She’s…”

“More peaceful. I’ve been practicing with my dad, so I do what I can to ease her fits but I’m not exactly equipped to lift a curse from Hades,” you mutter through a bitten lip. Luke stares at you but it feels nostalgic, like someone on the outside looking in. Well, shit. He’s been leading demigods to their deaths every summer and you’ve been trying to cure his mentally ill mother in the time you don’t spend trying to stop him.

“I don’t think I even remember the last time she made sense while talking to me,” he laughs hollowly. You purse your lips and shrug, “I visit her every two weeks. She still has her triggers, and she gets confused but she’s not in pain. Your letters helped.”

“Is that why you came here then?”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” you joke feebly. It falls flat and yet he still smiles, even when you say, “They weren’t for me.”

“They were about you. All of them were.”

You know that too. May makes you read them to her before bedtime as you stroke her hair and send her off to Hypnos. You’ve relived your relationship with Luke a million little times, and he’s written about you and all of your yesterdays like it was the only glimpse of Elysium he’d ever reach. In those letters, you get to remember the good parts of being in love—laughing in the empty amphitheater, holding hands under the dining table, sneaking kisses in the strawberry fields.

You used to understand each other so well: every dream, every feeling. But there is nothing you understand about the man sitting across from you now. The both of you sit at the kitchen table and there is nothing more to say.

Luke doesn’t have to stay. While you were at the supermarket, he spent an hour trying to explain to his mother that he needed her blessing to swim in the River Styx. Through nuances and veiled simplicity in the words he weaved to convince her, there wasn’t much opposition in her half-empty, half-prophetic mind. May always knew that Luke loved to swim when she took him to the beach, and that was that.

There was nothing more to say.

—

He knows it’s too good to be true when moments later May’s screams carry through the halls of the little house, down the stairway you’re currently clambering up to reach her. By the time his boots reach the second landing, he finds the two women he loves most in a huddle against the linen closet, his mother’s glowing green eyes and empty groans rattling him to the bone. If he were any smaller, he’d be shaking. Even now he doesn’t know what to do— feet frozen as he watches you brush her curls away from her face and lull her to solace.

“Can’t find Luke’s sheets—he needs the Toy Story ones…” May mutters as she rocks on her heels, “My boy needs to be home… He’s meant to be home!” Her fingernails are cutting into your wrists and then she silences with a wave of your hand.

“He’s home, Miss May. He’s right there,” you whisper. When your eyes look at Luke, you watch him crumble—the cracks in his fortitude tumbling like fallen rocks at the sight of the two of you and then you see him. The boy you met at 14 who was angry at the world for making him run away from his mother and the hands of fate until it crept up to snuff him out for the sake of a prophecy foretold by deities who will never understand what it’s like to be human. But there are no second chances, and there is nowhere left to run. “He’s here for you. I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.”

“I see it, the two of you together. The worst will be over soon, and then it’ll all make sense,” she says breathily, licking her lips and straightening herself like nothing happened. Even after you send her off to prepare a basket for the beach, Luke doesn’t move when his mother pats his arm and walks around his body and towards the stairs. Neither of you speak until your fingers touch his jaw lightly, and Luke doesn’t know if you’re trying to help him or inspect him. He tilts down to look at you anyway.

“She thinks we’re still together.”

He blinks. Somehow that’s the most shocking thing he’s heard today. Fate is most definitely cruel and fucked up because he never expected it to be like this—once upon a time he hoped he could take you home to meet his mother when everything was said and done; no shackles from Titans or pressure from the gods.

It was supposed to be different.

“The letters probably didn’t help as much as you thought they would then,” he mumbles, calloused hands guiding your hands over to his swiftly beating heart. You scoff, “Neither does bringing up my boyfriend. She thinks it’s you.” He’d believe anyone who’d say they watched you yank his heart out of his chest with that statement, everything bloody in your hands. It’s still yours, even if you don’t want it.

“Kit?”

You shake your head and shrug, “That was forever ago. But he treats me well.”

Luke wants to ask more but by the tension in your shoulders, he knows not to push. He’s not entitled to know anything more than what you give him. It’s not his place anymore. So his brow furrows at your next suggestion.

“Just pretend, Luke. For the day, so your mom doesn’t get agitated. I’m not asking for much here.”

It’s a terrible, terrible idea—even you know that. But you both have always been good pretenders. Liars, a voice corrects in the back of your mind. You reason that it’s for May and insist upon that fact, even if the heartbroken girl you left at Camp Half-Blood is raging at you from deep inside the recesses of your mind that you hide her in. What’s one day with him compared to the many you’ve gone without? You don’t need to know the rest of why he’s here, or what more he’s going to do— and you don’t ask.

Not knowing has always hurt less.

—

You’ve forgotten how good Luke is at playing the part of a good boyfriend. He offers to drive to the beach, carries the picnic basket and blanket for you all to sit on, and listens intently when May asks about your college classes. There’s no discomfort in the way he holds your hand as you walk in the sand or dusts your feet off before laying them across his lap. It’s easy to laugh at his bad jokes, it’s easy to act like the boyfriend you describe is anything like him (even if he’s the complete opposite), and it’s too damn easy to fall into the familiar rhythm that is you and Luke. The three of you lay down as the spring breeze covers you from the rest of reality, hiding away from the truth of a broken woman and two ex-lovers. By late afternoon, you find yourself enjoying it, and it’s cruel how the guilt isn’t rolling off you in waves, instead longing for him to follow you anywhere.

He meets you by the shoreline with both of you waist-deep in the water. May’s collecting seashells but she turns to look at you two every so often like she’s framing this memory in her fragile mind. Without saying it out loud, the both of you hope it will hold.

“She always talks about you, you know? Even without trying,” you mutter as saltwater pours from your fingers to the valleys made by the veins in his forearms. It’s like initiating touch without the consequences of actually doing it, and he immerses himself in the feeling as it spills over him, feet rocking against the tide.

“I do too. Can’t help it.”

When the sea ripples once more pushing you against the wall of his body, you end up holding on, and he doesn’t let go. You both smell like salt and sunshine, pressed together and nothing has made more sense. The silence goes on for a beat too long—he whispers, “You still talk about me? Your boyfriend must hate that.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to talk about you? For anyone to get to know me, they have to know you.”

Your shirt is stuck to your skin in the surf and Luke’s hands brush over the waistline of your underwear, daring to reacquaint himself with your touch and spur a reaction from you. You may be the best actress he’s ever known but anything is better than watching you be complacent with the false niceties of the day.

“There isn’t much worth knowing.”

“I’d never say that, Luke,” jaw tensing, you let out a breath when his hands encircle your hips, hidden in plain sight in the deep of the ocean. He chuckles and the sound tickles your brain to remind you it's the type of laugh he spits out when he’s hiding his anger, “There’s a lot we’re both not saying.” Your name slips past his lips, sneaking past your defenses and hitting you head-on like a bullet.

“Why?”

Why are you doing this? Why are you helping his mother, why aren’t you actively fighting and turning him in, why are you letting him hold you if he’s only going to leave again—there are too many questions and only one clear answer.

“Because it’s out of our hands, isn’t it, Luke? You love your mother but you wouldn’t have come here unless it’s too late. Annie told me you went to see her in San Francisco.”

He was never here to make amends or save face. There was no version of him that was going to ask you to run away with him because he knows you deserve more than always running from fate. He’d do it all over again as long as you got this— the life you’re living with your college degree, your boyfriend, and your happy family— and Luke has no place in that.

A dry laugh bubbles from his throat, sticking like seafoam when he says, “You hate San Francisco.”

You wouldn’t have come, anyway.

—

By the time you get home for dinner, your skin is sensitive and tingly from the heat of the sun. May’s tracing circles into the back of your hand as she leads you up the patio steps. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that makes you sway against the doorway.

“Too much time having fun,” she mumbles, patting your cheek, “Take a cold shower dear. Join us when you’re ready?” Luke’s eyes follow you all the way up the stairs and then again, he’s left to his own devices.

Most of the said shower was spent thinking about what your friends would say about you for playing house with the enemy. The guilt felt like ice along your spine, paralyzing you for wanting to be selfish, to choose what makes you happy even if it fucks the rest of the world. But looking in the mirror afterward was scarier—you recognized the girl that stared back at you as someone you thought you’d never see again. A version you left behind years ago, with her head held high and so sure of herself with your Luke by your side.

Surely, there’s no harm in indulging in this vice for the rest of the night. Not when you haven’t felt this relaxed in years.

Dinner is being served by the time you make your way back downstairs. It’s a simple dish you taught Luke how to make back at camp when you raided the kitchens at midnight. Nothing special, reminding you of your own home—but the fact that he remembered makes your smile widen as you take a seat and promise to wash the dishes. Luke chuckles the type that makes his eyes crinkle in mirth once he watches you dig into your meal, knees brushing under the table like old times.

Everything feels easier after that.

“Today was the best day,” his mother mutters as you tuck the covers under her chin. May kisses both of your cheeks before she shuts her eyes and you gently fold the letter she chose tonight back into her nightstand for safekeeping. This time, you read her the story of your first kiss with Luke sitting at the foot of her bed in the dim light of her room. It’s less scary here than he remembers, but maybe it’s because this time there’s no screaming and him running to hide in the closet. Your voice is much more pleasant than those suppressed memories, immersing you all in a more pleasant one— the both of you in the amphitheater kissing on the stage with his hands in your belt loops. Luke could recite every word on that page if it meant he could go back in time, not with Backbiter but with you, just to live through that moment again. I think I’m falling in love with her, is how the letter ended but by then he already knew. Writing it down to tell his mother always made it real.

This, you, right here—everything is real.

He’s silent even as he watches you smoke through the cracked window of his childhood bedroom, and you’re surprised when he steals a puff. His hands are shaking under the moonlight and suddenly it’s clear that he’s scared. Everyone feels fear, but in all the years that you’ve known him, Luke Castellan has never let you see it.

“Those things will kill you one day,” you mumble, watching him lean against the windowpane. It’s what he used to always tell you so that you’d quit, but old habits die screaming. It’s another vice you refuse to let go of.

“Wanted to try something new before I…” his voice drops off.

Lose myself.

Lose you.

Luke coughs as the smoke enters his lungs, a momentary rush hitting him brought by the nicotine. Your hands go to cup his jaw as you set your forehead against his, a silent plea for him to just be honest if there’s truly nothing left to lose.

“I’m out of time, Trouble. It’s out of my hands.”

Shuddering at the feeling of him tracing every ridge of your spine, you think the way he says your nickname sounds like the way he used to say I love you. It’s raining outside now, the harsh pitter-patter of wet drops drowning out the sound of your voice, “What can I do? Is there anything left for me to do?” When his head shakes, your noses brush, and your breaths intermingle, almost magnetic. Perhaps the rain is getting in from the open window and you feel it hitting your cheek until you see the shine of his eyes.

“You think I did this because of you. I know you do, but you need to know I did all of this for you, trouble. I choose you and me. Every time,” Luke gasps, intertwining his fingers with yours, the both of you pushing and pulling in this embrace like the moon with the tide.

“Luke…”

You’re pressing yourself against him, face hidden in his shirt as your brain catches up to your heart, hasty breaths and every atom of your being screaming to be held together by him and then you’re on him, through tears and clenched fists tumbling towards the tiny twin bed. The only way he likens himself to his father is his yearning to be a true traveler, but what he knows best out of anything in this entire world is you. He knew this body once too— every birthmark, scar, and dimple. Who else has had the privilege to navigate the ridges of your spine, to know the pressure of your kiss? A tattoo peeks out to say hello at your hip bone. There are new stories and new marks, there are parts of you unknown to him now. Luke thinks that must be what hurts most about each time he leaves you.

But then gods, why does this feel so good?

Warm palms caress your waist, nudging your shirt up in the hopes that this will be enough compensation for all his misdoings—the tears you’ve cried, the anger you’ve felt, the things you had to do and will have to do because of him. Luke is someone who’s gotten comfortable with manipulating time, but time has manipulated him and all of his plans for the both of you. Sleepy setback bedroom eyes meet his own that glow in the gentle light of the lamp on the nightstand. Maybe if you pretend again his childhood bedroom can turn into the star-speckled darkness of cabin 12. You can just lay down and tuck underneath his arms waiting for him to fall asleep. But he stays up this time, making you hiss at the feeling of his lips against your neck.

“We can’t… Angelface,” you say breathily, still leaning into the trail he marks across the valley of your collarbone, “We’re not together anymore.”

A kiss is placed on your pulsepoint, knocking against the cord of your necklace.

“We shouldn’t… I have a boyfriend.”

Another kiss rests against the warmth of your forehead.

“We’re on opposite sides of a war… You’re my enemy.”

Finally, his lips meet yours, for a moment as if to test the waters.

“Not tonight,” he says, and there is no other option but to agree. There is a lifetime to make up for in a night, and fuck it—they’ll crucify you anyway. You were never meant to be a hero, that’s what he always wanted. You just wanted him. Your head hits the pillow and he looms over you until you’re pulling him in for more than what’s necessary to accept an apology.

There’s nothing left to lose.

—

Before your mind can wake up dreading the consequences of last night, your socked feet take you to the kitchen to clean up the mess you’ve both left behind. The old floorboards creak underfoot and there’s a method in the way you’re washing the dishes, hot water and soap starting to seep through your shirt sleeve but you choose not to notice. Scrubbing at the dirt and grime left behind on the porcelain until your fingers start to prune, a lump forms in your throat before you can stop it. Maybe if you scrub hard enough at the glass that Luke drank out of last night it can eventually be clean. But it’s taking you longer than you thought, jaw tensing and fingers turning white at how hard you’re holding on. May appears behind you, guiding your hands away from the scalding water, and though you resist— the glass drops into the sink and shatters with a loud crack.

“Damn spot wouldn’t get out,” you sniff, turning away to look out the window and think of anything but him, but he’s everywhere even when he’s not here, so much so that it suffocates you. Guilt lines every shaking breath you take until lavender eyes meet amber at the sensation of her clasping your red and raw palms with a dishtowel.

You see him in her too.

“His fate is greater than the cards he��s been dealt with. You know that.”

It’s the clearest and most sensible May’s spoken in days. Perhaps when it comes to Luke, she’ll always know better. Eyes darting elsewhere to fight the tears that brim at your lash line, you look down at your swollen hands, palm up towards the heavens almost imploring, “Why couldn’t it be me?”

The question’s direction is unclear and you don’t expect to get an answer, turning away to grab some ice from the freezer and she remains standing there—staring at the windowsill at a compass that’s now found its home next to the faded picture of a man who’s left more times than there are reasons to stay. Just like his father, she thinks, a small smile quirking at the side of her lip where a scar would meet her son’s. Clicking it open delicately like how she used to hold his hand, there’s a photo of you and Luke resting against the cover ripped away from a memory frozen in time.

“It is you,” May says quietly, though you’ve already left the room.

A mother always knows, after all.

—

“Aphrodite,” I pleaded to the moon-drenched night sky. “Tell me; if love is meant to heal, then why does it destroy those who choose it?” From somewhere beyond the clouds, I heard the Goddess laugh. And I knew. -Nikita Gill

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #luke castellan fanfic #trouble!verse #percy jackon and the olympians

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starryevermore · 9 months

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the house of snow (1) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board | ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.

chapter summary: your parents are convinced that you will marry the king by the end of the social season. and so, too, it seems does coriolanus snow.

word count: 2,764

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: no use of y/n, you cannot stand coryo, not proofread

Coriolanus Snow’s rise to the throne was something you never expected to come to fruition. When you were younger, you remembered your peers talking about how Snow wanted to one day rule Panem. At the time, you thought it was just another wild dream of a child. Something a child would say when an adult asks what they wish to be when they grow up. “A pirate!” one might exclaim. Or, perhaps, “A painter!” The sort of thing that a sensible parent would shrug off and not dedicate anymore thought to. The Snow family, as it turned out, was not particularly sensible.

When the Former King Ravinstill died without warning, the throne was left vacant. Everyone knew that the old man had little life left in him. Yet, despite his age, he had a tendency to power through. No one thought he would have lived as long as he did, but he had. So, the Electors had not yet begun considering his replacement. No one had been prepared enough to seek candidacy. No one, except Coriolanus Snow. A few other eligible persons put forth their names, but no one garnered support quite like the young man. From a prominent family, the son of a general, had served briefly himself, intelligent, and had the financial backing of the Plinth family? There was no version of history where Snow could lose.

Within weeks of Ravinstill’s death, Snow was crowned King.

You did not care for politics, so you knew little of his reign. But your father seemed pleased, talking often and loudly about how the young Snow would restore Panem to its former glory. You weren’t so sure of that. Though you did not interact with him often in your younger years, you remembered Snow as someone who was self-serving. Who would pretend to care if only it could further his own interests. He very well might let all of Panem burn if it meant he could gain from it. But your father was quite pleased with Snow as King and, when word began to spread that Snow would be seeking a bride this next social season, your father pushed hard for you to woo the King.

“If you wish to serve your family well, my little dove, you will convince the King to marry you,” your father told you the moment he heard the news.

You all but scoffed. “I hardly think I am the sort of woman he wishes to marry. A man like him would want someone meek, someone who would not challenge his authority. We hardly ever agreed on the schoolyard, and for that reason, he never considered me a friend. How could he ever see me as a wife?”

Your father’s eyes narrowed at you. “It is your responsibility, then, to make yourself small so that he may choose you.”

“I would rather die than sacrifice my ideals, Papa,” you said. “Why can I not vie for any other’s attention? I know Lord Plinth quite well. I’ve always enjoyed his company. It would be easy to win his heart and have our family set for life. Certainly easier than winning over the King.”

He sneered, “The only thing the Plinth family is good for is their money. I want to be respected. We would be little more than social pariahs if you wed the Plinth boy.”

“I shall not marry the King—”

Your mother stepped in before you could say something you might come to regret. She placed a hand on your arm, directing your attention to her. “Never mind that now. There is still time before the season begins for minds to be changed.”

“I shall not change my mind, Mama.”

She looked over at your father, who was the perfect picture of irate. She looked back to you. “Perhaps, but perhaps not. Let us go clear our minds, yes? We should go order new gowns at the modiste before everyone else floods her with demands.”

“You cannot distract me with fashion.”

“But you would do well to pretend that I have.”

Your efforts to convince your parents that you would not, under any circumstance whatsoever, marry Coriolanus Snow did not do anything for you. Despite your best efforts, you now stood in the palace for the King’s Ball, wearing the most beautiful powder blue gown fresh from the modiste, trying and failing to hide from your mother, so that you might delay her forcing you onto Snow. For now, though, she had been distracted by a conversation with Lady Dovecote about…whatever mothers talked about. Surely some scheme that would end with either you or Clemensia as Snow’s betrothed. You rolled your eyes at the thought.

A familiar voice said your name. When you turned, you were greeted by the sight of Sejanus Plinth, holding two glasses of lemonade. He handed one to you, remarking, “I never knew you to be one to hide from the crowd.”

“I shall hide from the crowd when my mama is convinced I shall become Queen by the end of the season.”

“Ah.” Sejanus took a drink and laughed. “Strange, isn’t it? Seeing everyone we grew up with vying for Coryo’s attention.”

Coryo? Oh, yes. That was the nickname those close to Snow would call him. You had forgotten that the two were friends. Hmm, perhaps you could use that information the next time your parents try to force a connection with Snow. Something about how getting close to his friend might make him interested in you. “That it is. It seems as though everyone has lost their minds just for a glimpse of the crown.”

Sejanus laughed again. Then he looked at you a little more seriously, and said, “If I am honest, I am surprised you are not among those fighting for Coryo’s attention.”

Your brows pinched together. “You think I am interested in climbing the social ladder? Lord Plinth, you should know me well enough that I care more for a love match than gaining a title.”

“No, no. That is not what I meant. I remember in school that you and Coryo always had a sort of connection. Truthfully, I thought one of you might have acted on it sooner when you entered society.”

“The only connection we had was that of hatred. We despised each other.”

Sejanus shook his head, his curls bouncing. “I do not think that was true for Coryo. He liked that you challenged him. He has never been the sort of person who liked people who switch their position when the tide seems to turn. He likes people who are firm in their convictions.”

You laughed. “He’s told you this?”

“Not in so many words. But you have to wonder why he always sought you out.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps he is crueler than we all think.”

Sejanus moved to protest, but another beat him to it. “Or perhaps you judge without truly knowing.”

You froze. Oh, how you had hoped that you could have avoided him tonight! Damn Sejanus and his friendship with Snow. So much for him being your safe haven during these balls. You might as well have lit a beacon leading straight to you. Alas, you did not want Snow to see the hatred you had brewing for him. Even if you did not like the man, you would be a social pariah if you made such feelings known to him. So, you painted on a smile as you turned to look at Snow. “Or perhaps I made an educated guess supported by the evidence of past interactions.”

Snow snorted, turning his gaze to Sejanus. “Always so quick with a response, she is.”

Sejanus glanced at you, a knowing look in his eyes. If you were a mindreader, you could imagine him gloating in his mind about how he was right, that this was a sign that Snow cared for you in some way. But you only knew it to be yet another indicator that you and Snow could never, ever, get along. “Her wit has never dulled.”

“Should we see, then, if her dance skills are still equally sharp?”

Sejanus looked at you again, a brilliant smile on his face. Oh, how you wished to wipe that look off. This was not proof of anything. This did not prove his point. “I could not think of anything better.”

Damn you, Sejanus Plinth. Damn you.

Snow held his arm out for you to take. You stared at it, not moving. “In order to dance with a lady, you must ask her. I do not recall you asking me anything.”

Snow glanced just beyond you. When you turned your head to follow his gaze, you saw your mother and Lady Dovecote watching the interaction carefully. As you looked back at Snow, he said, “Your mother would be disappointed if you did not dance with me.”

“It is amazing you became King when you are so lacking in manners.” But you knew your mother—the entirety of the ton, perhaps—would consider you insane to turn the King down so openly. So you took his arm and let him lead you onto the dance floor.

He snorted. “You are the only person who speaks so freely to me.”

“Ah, so this is one last dance before my execution? How kind. Perhaps I was wrong about your cruelty.”

“There is much you are wrong about,” Snow said. You had reached the dance floor. The crowd parted around you, allowing you and Snow to take the middle of the floor. You faced him, allowing his hand to fall to you waist. You placed one hand on his shoulder, and let him take the other in his free hand. “It would be far too much of a shame to take your life.”

“Such a kind and gentle king.”

“Only for those who deserve it.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw your mother miming for you to smile. You fought the urge to sneer instead. Even if you would rather do anything else than be courted by Coriolanus Snow, acting out would not do you any favors. If you had any hope in finding a love match, you had to at least be cordial to him. So you smiled as prettily as you could. But you couldn’t help yourself from saying, “Then perhaps you should go see a physician. You seem to have lost your mind.”

To your surprise, Snow laughed. The sound almost scared you. When was the last time you heard Snow laugh? An actual laugh, at that. None of his snorts of derision or half-hearted chuckles when he was trying to charm someone. Had you ever heard him laugh before? You tried to wrack your brain, but you could not recall anything. In school, he had always been so serious—focused more on using the tools available to him to climb the social ladder rather than being a kid like everyone else. Though, you supposed, Snow was a far cry from everyone else.

The music began to play, and Snow spun you around the dance floor. As you turned, you locked eyes with Sejanus. He wore a large grin on his face, seemingly sure that you and Snow were making nice. Why else would he have laughed at something you said? You wished you could yell out to Sejanus, tell him that he was dead wrong.

“What is it that people say? Something about love driving people mad?”

This time, you did roll your eyes. “Oh, come off it. You and I both know perfectly well that you do not care for me. I hardly understand why you’re even entertaining this nonsense, if for no other reason than to torture me.”

Snow considered you. After a long moment of silence, he said, “I seek a bride who will produce me an heir. There are few women here who meet my standards. A woman of good breeding, from a respectable family, and intelligent enough to keep up with me. Someone who will be a good Queen and a good mother.”

“Someone that you can control.” You scoff. “You truly must see a physician, Your Majesty, if you think that I will fall in line with whatever you ask of me.”

His lips curled into a grin. Your stomach churned. “Not yet.”

The next morning, your mother promptly reported that you had danced with Coriolanus Snow not once, not twice, but three times to your father. To say he had been pleased was something of an understatement. He was certain that Snow would soon be reaching out to discuss a proposal. It did not matter how much you tried to downplay the situation—explain that he was only dancing with you for some other reason than him wishing to marry you. Your parents minds were made up. By the end of the season, you were to be Queen of Panem.

“It’s just the nerves,” your mother dismissed as you sat in the drawing room, waiting for any suitor to call on you. “You will be more than confident once you are wed.”

You ground your teeth together. “I do not wish to marry Coriolanus Snow. I would marry anyone else. I would let you or Papa pick anyone else in the ton and I would not let out a single complaint. I cannot marry that man.”

Something just beyond you caught your mother’s attention. Your father, you supposed. “You should not say such things—” she began to say. Of course. Of course she would say that.

“Why not? It is true. I would be miserable with him. I would rather die than be his bride, bear his children. Frankly, forcing me to marry him may as well be a death sentence.”

“Dear, you do not truly mean that—”

“And you must not know me at all if you think I am not being completely, and utterly, truthful right now. Coriolanus Snow is the last man I would ever wish to marry.”

Your mother leaned in close to you, hissing, “Stop talking right now, young lady.”

A frown settled on your face. Why was she so bothered about you speaking so freely? There was no one in the room but you, her, and a maid. Perhaps she was concerned about the maid spreading gossip with other maids and that slowly enveloping the ton. It wasn’t a non-possibility, to be sure. But why was she acting so…scandalized by your words?

Unless…

You turned your head toward the entrance of the room. There should Coriolanus Snow, dressed in a dark red suit, holding a bouquet of white roses. Your mouth went dry. Oh, why does he keep showing up when you least expect it? “The butler typically announces when a guest has arrived,” you said.

You couldn’t read his face. A part of you wondered if you had offended him. You didn’t particularly care about offending him, but you also knew that such an act could have dire consequences on you marrying anyone else. “He was going to, but I wanted my arrival to be a surprise.” He took a step closer to you, holding out the roses. “I just had these freshly picked from my garden.”

A part of you wanted to smack the roses out of his hands, but you had already embarrassed your mother enough in front of Snow. You took the roses, yet couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “I cannot believe a man like you could grow something so beautiful.”

Your mother let out a loud—obviously fake—laugh. “Oh, isn’t she just funny? She always says the silliest things.”

Snow chuckled. He smiled at your mother—the sort of smile that your stomach twist into knots. Like he knew something no one else did, and he was reveling in that. “It is one of her more…charming traits.” He turned his attention back to you. “As lovely as this is, I came to ask if you would like to promenade with me in the square.”

Oh, Snow. Why was he so good at backing you into corners? You took a breath and passed the bouquet to the maid so she could put them in a vase. “That would be nothing short of a delight.”

He held out his arm for you to take. You slipped your hand around his bicep, your nails digging in. If he felt any pain, he didn’t show it. Instead, he leaned down so that you could only hear him whisper, “It seems like you fall in line much easier than you would like to believe.”

#the house of snow: a royal coryo au #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x female reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fan fiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fan fic #coriolanus snow fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

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absolutebl · 1 month

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This Week in BL - Getting hot under the collar and in the kitchen and on the pool table and...

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Aug 2024 Week 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) eps 3-4 of 12 - one of the things I'm enjoying about this show is the fact that the introverted super shy uke is having hot fantasies, and the extroverted seme is having the sweet fantasies. It's another way this show is highlighting God being the world's greenest flagged seme BL has ever produced. (And he's being given stiff competition this year - trend alert.)

Anygay: God is so cute and so not cool and so in love and all the consent asking word salad coming out of this boy. I LOVE him.

Diew: It’s ep 4 so I’ve decided we can talk face-to-face. God: So how many children do you want?

The teaching him to play basketball bit, where God politely asks to hold his hand, is so freaking adorable I can’t.

I'm thinking of calling this show the anti-Mame pill.

Blue pill? Red pill? GREEN pill!

My Love Mix-Up Th (Fri YT) ep 11 of 12 - We gotta talk. I do like this version, but it’s starting to feel lackluster. Perhaps it always was by comparison to the bright sparkle uniqueness of the original. Perhaps I didn't notice because I was distracted by G4. But now I gotta say it's become a bit disappointing and even my love for G4 can’t seem to bind me to this. Frankly, this show is making me want to watch either the Japanese version, or My School President. It’s never a good sign when a currently airing BL makes me want to stop that and go rewatch an old one I’ve already seen.

NO SINGING.

Meanwhile, the "locked on the rooftop" trope! I haven’t seen that one in years. Cool. Also cute kisses. They learning.

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans (Fri iQIYI) ep 7 of 8 - I can’t believe this is ending next week. But also I can. And I have thoughts.

I really love SailubPon. They might be one of my favorite newer pairs on the scene right now. But I just don’t believe in these characters or this couple. I don’t feel like they are going to have a lasting relationship. It feels like they’re just using each other for sex and distraction, and that’s how the script to set it up, and as a result they’re never gonna make it as a couple. As soon as the sexual fire between them burns out, what do they have to build a relationship on? Frankly? That would be fine if this were a modern love drama, and not a BL. But this IS a BL.

Putting the health code violators aside, I really do believe in the secondary pair, but they haven’t been given enough bandwidth to develop as a couple. There’s no way they’re going to adequately resolve Methas and JJ in the final episode.

At this juncture, I’m mostly finding this show annoying. Which in itself is annoying, because I wanted to love it.

Why is it that Thailand, the land of the best food in the world, king of BLs, struggles so hard to produce the restaurant set BL of my dreams? I’m really pissed about this.

That said, the Methas & JJ stuff is killer. Loved JJ running away. So good. Plus the age old decision - love or money?

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 2-3 of 12 - The issue was me and I've managed to get hold of this show again. The story within the story is so ridiculously badly written I'm going spare. I’m not sure if the outside show is not ALSO badly written. That said, I do love how the 3 writer friends are all shipping our leads. It’s VERY silly. Meanwhile, cohabitation trope is a go.

I like the side couple too. Stern Daddy + lost puppy is a very cute dynamic, I hope we get more than just crumbs. I actually am enjoying this show now. Ep 3 kinda derailed into this weird chimera novel that they’re all writing together and I’m finding that bit the least interesting, but I adore the domestic components which I think may turn out to be TutorYim's strength (if they're allowed to lean into it).

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 1 of 10 - Man I hope this gets some kind of distribution at some point. It was a pain to find and watch. But I enjoyed it. The focus is more on the seme in Thailand’s version. Which I don’t mind since that's rare in BL, and it’s more August on my screen. It’s all round softer than China’s version but still feels very familiar. I know some fans are struggling with it, but not me.

Sunset X Vibes (Sat iQIYI) ep 10 of 12 - I like that Sam’s crafty business espionage has paid off. Them teasing Sam & Yo really had me belly laughing. It was so funny.

Legitimate question. Would one put perfume on one’s cheeks in Thailand, as one does on wrist or sternum? Because of the sniff cheek thing? Scented face powders?

I do feel like with MosBank & SailubPon scorching up our screens, we’re being spoiled by some of Thailand‘s best high heat pairs at the moment.

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 5 of 12 - It remains kind of sweet and cute. It's also calm and slow moving. Oddly it reminds me of La Cuisine in its style and execution (if not content). I’m enjoying it more than I thought I would.

The Trainee (Sun YouTube) ep 7 of 12 - I don’t know. I’m getting bored.

Love Sea (Sun iQIYI) ep 10fin - Fort’s acting during the break-up was truly great. But I feel for Rak. It’s rough to learn that someone else is playing a long game with feelings while you were playing a short game with d**k.

Ultimately this is probably a solid 8/10 show but I’m mad I wasn’t madder at it, and I'm mad I was so bored throughout. So it gets a 7/10 and let us not speak of this again. I’d like to simply forget about it. Trash watch.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 1-2 of 10 - OMG a uni student who looks young and a... COP! GAH. The subversion and kink of it all. I had to go grey to get it and I hate everything about what I had to do. But ya know what? Fucking worth every single repeated crash-causing advertisement.

I love it. The grumpy lonely little student cook and the cheerful mature police officer. What a fabulous dynamic. Is the cook looking for a boyfriend or a Daddy, and do we care if it has the same result? It is filmed VERY manga style camp. I’m a little nervous about that, but this means it’s also very fluffy and so damn sweet. It made me squeak with the cute. I’m gutted this didn’t get distribution.

Ironic that Tawada Hideya is in a new BL while Sunspot is re-airing.

Cosmetic Playlover (Japan Tues Gaga) eps 3-4 of 8 - Ah, the gays are doubting the bisexual again. How familiar. I like how this one is paced and moving through time, even if the relationship seems to be going comparatively slowly by contrast. I love the way Sahashi is always looking at Natsume, even when they’re in conversation with someone else. Ah yearning. I think the conflict was kind of inevitable, given the two personalities of the protagonists, and I like that. (No manufactured angst here.) But I still hope they can repair the breach and I’m still interested. Frankly this is so classically Japan - I don’t know what story beats it’s following and I’m not entirely sure where it’s going, but I kinda like that unpredictability. Makes me think it could go into "must you, Japan?" territory but fingers crossed.

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 9 of 10 - I'm enjoying it very much. I could do without the girl character. I know she’s more interesting than most (this is Japan after all), but she’s not really for me. It’s the complexity of the connection between the leads (and why they like each other) that’s being executed so brilliantly in this show (and in the manga, FYI). Both actors are so on point with their roles and the nuanced emotions required of these characters that every time it’s only them interacting I'm riveted. I could do without the rest of the cast tho.

Seoul Blues (Korea Fri? YouTube) ep 1 of 8 - I have a confession to make, I’ve been watching this whole series as it goes along. But this is the pair I absolutely like the most. I’m not sure I would necessarily recommend any of the installments, and I’m not sure how this one is going to go, but I’m VERY invested in this particular couple. They are so pretty!!!! This is a true friends-to-lovers struggle. I like that a lot. (Reminds me of I Cannot Reach You but a different dynamic.) Did I mention how pretty they are? And we already know they gonna kiss well. I bet the uncut version is stellar.

Meet You at the Blossom (China) - It's no one's funeral, turns out! Reports are in - not only are there kisses but it ends happily with wedding plans. So I'm eating crow, binging the fucker, and live blogging. I'm enjoying it. Ya'll know I adored Chinese BL before censorship. It has a certain unhinged quality I very much apreciate (and is the reason I'm so tolerant of the Thai pulps) that I think will marry well with Wuxia's effervescent and ever-present tropes. Watch me suffer here.

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) eps 1-2 of 12 - About a singer with stage fright and his timid fan starring Charles (H4 the puppy one) and Michael Chang (the youngster in My Tooth Your Love), plus side couple featuring a Thai actor Jame (Koh in Gen Y) and Liu Min Ting (of Guardian fame). What a damn team. With their powers combined they are...

fine.

This is a fine BL. The fight scene was fun and I like the meet cute. I’m not sure about the chemistry of the leads, but I think they’ll probably do okay. I admit I’m struggling a bit with a singing and the music. Are you surprised? I think I like it enough, but I’m not wowed.

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 7 of 10 - Oh! Out of the blue attack kiss. What IS this show? I don’t get it at all. Bah. I guess they’re dating now. It’s… so odd...

It's airing but...

4 Minutes (Thai Netflix/Grey) - A rich boy at uni suddenly gains the supernatural power to see four minutes into the future. I have a source, but I've decided to hold off and binge if it ends okay, since it's only 8 eps. I depend upon y'all to tell me if it's safe.

8/16 The Last Time (Thai Fri YT) ? eps - Convoluted story of loss and possible reincarnation or something. Again delayed? Not sure what's going on with this one but the continued push-backs do not bode well.

In case you missed it

The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer IS COMING IN SEPTEMBER!!!! (Yeah this is gonna sit here until then).

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Still Coming This Month!

8/22 The On1y One (Taiwan Thurs Gaga) 12 eps - announced in 2023 this one has a high school set stepbrothers trope and is reputed to be high heat. From Taiwan! It's made for me. Based on a novel Mou Mou from the Your Name Engraved Herein folks, so it could go dark. Still, I'm very excited.

8/22 The Paradise of Thorns (Thai movie) theater release - Jeff Satur is back but this does not look like a BL (the gay lover's death is the inciting event). More in Goodbye Mother vein. Looks dark and dramatic. He opposite and extremely well known actor Toey Pongsakorn who has never done gay before.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

WHY IS HE SO FINE?

I truly belly laughed. Sam & Yo did not go in the direction I expected, but this scene alone made me not mind that they curtailed the suffering Sam was rightfully due. (SunsetXVibes)

Tall boyfriend armpit, anyone? (Monster Next Door)

The two extremes of BL in one show (Long Beans indeed).

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many tags.

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asdfghjklmals · 1 year

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ACCIDENTS✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff, angst. no smut. mentions of pregnancy, sex, injury, blood, and abortion. suggestive comments. WORD COUNT: 4.5k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc, boyfriend!gojo, pregnant!oc, established couple.

SYNOPSIS: during oc gojo girlfriend's yearly check up with shoko, she finds out she's pregnant. how will satoru act when he finds out? AUTHOR'S NOTE: i did make some changes to the beginning compared to the preview that i posted! thank you @mdnxghtjj for staying up late with me to try to make up scenarios on how oc gojo girlfriend would be pregnant by accident lol my google search probably thinks i'm the pregnant one. here is the official start to my version of dad!gojo and the official start to the baby gojo chronicles 🥹 REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions, instead please do!

your least favorite time of the year was when shoko had everyone visit her office for a yearly check up. that was a full examination for everyone.

“here, pee on this.” shoko handed you a pregnancy test. you looked at her with confusion written all over your face.

shoko saw your facial expression and reassured you, “it’s just part of the protocol, (y/n). would you rather pee in a cup? last time you told me you hate peeing in cups because you don't want to accidentally pee on your hands.”

“fine... it’s gonna be negative anyways.” you said confidently. you took the test from her hand reluctantly and went to the bathroom.

as shoko gave you a thorough examination, you couldn’t help but peer at the white and blue pregnancy test sitting in the corner next to the sink. it wasn’t your first time using one, but it was always strange taking one. especially for no reason.

"alright, you're done. have you been feeling better since you caught that cold?" shoko asked as you hopped off the examination able. she went back to the sink to remove her gloves and wash her hands. you had caught some horrible cold or stomach bug over a month ago, and it left you with fever, chills, and non-stop vomitting for weeks. you were so sick that you told satoru you wanted to write a will to leave everything to megumi and tsumiki because you didn't think you were going to make it.

“yeah. i haven’t been that sick in so long. i was vomitting like every other hour. satoru thought he was going to die when i wouldn’t let him sleep in our bed. he slept in tsumiki's old room for two weeks, poor guy. i didn't want him to catch whatever it was,” you chuckled at the thought of your 6’3” boyfriend sleeping in a baby pink decorated room.

“(y/n)…”

“yeah?” you turned to face shoko.

shoko asked you cautiously, “are you on birth control?”

suspicion filled your eyes as you peered at the amber-eyed doctor, “yeah, i’ve been on birth control since i was 21… why?”

“your pregnancy test came back positive.”

you stared at the digital screen. the words “pregnant” screamed at you inside your head. were you really pregnant? this was something you never thought would happen, at least not right now.

“that’s not possible, shoko.” you laughed nervously in disbelief.

“according to the test, you are.” shoko looked confused. as a doctor, she was determined to figure out how one of her bestfriends, who was on birth control, got pregnant. she studied your charts and medical records as she chewed on the tip of her pen.

you tried to retrace your footsteps for the past month. you had a very specific routine, and you took your birth control every morning after brushing your teeth and washing your face. your package of pills sat in your bathroom drawer just below the sink as your daily reminder to take your birth control.

shoko folded her arms and cleared her throat, “uhm, i hate to ask you this because i truly don’t want to know, but when was the first time you and gojo had sex after you got sick?”

you thought it was a strange question because wouldn’t shoko want to know when the most recent time you were intimate with satoru was?

“well…” you looked at her sheepishly, a face full of embarrassment, “we had sex right when my cold symptoms went away.” it would’ve been uncomfortable for your aching body, so you made satoru wait. and yes, he complained about it for two weeks.

shoko massaged her temples as she realized what the problem was, “god, (y/n). remember you were literally throwing up all the time when you were sick?”

your jaw dropped, “does that mean i threw up my birth control…?”

“that could’ve been the case, but if you throw up 1-2 hours after taking your birth control, your body might not have the chance to absorb it. your body was technically missing dosages since you were vomiting almost every day for a week…” shoko explained.

you stared at the doctor. your heart was racing and your mind had a million thoughts running through your head. you couldn’t believe that you were pregnant. there was just no way. as much as you and satoru joked about having kids, you knew deep down that satoru wasn’t ready. and you didn’t think he’d ever be. but you were okay with that. you had spent most of your young adult life raising two kids, so you felt like you weren't missing out on much.

“please, don’t tell satoru.” you quietly pleaded with shoko.

“don’t tell gojo-sensei what?” megumi asked from the office door. he dropped his backpack and his gym bag on the floor, walking towards you and shoko.

your eyes widened as you discreetly shifted the pregnancy test under your thigh, “hi kiddo, don’t tell gojo-sensei that i bought him his favorite kikufuku as a surprise.” that was a horrible lie, you're usually better than that.

shoko cleared her throat to try and change the subject, “hi megumi! you’re early for your exam.”

“yeah, i finished jujutsu practice early.” he replied back to shoko as he reverted his gaze back at you, “(y/n), what’s going on?”

“nothing, i just finished my exam. shoko says i’m as healthy as a horse!” you laughed nervously.

“you’re pregnant, aren’t you?” megumi asked you straightforwardly, “you were complaining about your boobs hurting the other day, you felt sick yesterday morning at breakfast, and you complained about being bloated at lunch today. not to mention, you’re always throwing up in my bathroom at home.”

you stopped to think about the symptoms that megumi just listed. you didn’t even consider that being pregnant was the reason why you were experiencing those symptoms. you always thought you were in the clear with those stupid tiny birth control pills.

you sighed, lifting your thigh to grab the pregnancy test. you showed it to megumi. “satoru doesn’t know… and we’re going to keep it that way.”

“why don’t you want to tell him?” he asked you, “are you guys fighting?”

“no, we're not fighting. this whole thing was an accident because of my cold last month... and to be honest, i don't know if your sensei even wants kids.” you smiled halfheartedly at megumi.

“i won’t say anything.” megumi promised. he couldn't imagine satoru gojo not wanting to reproduce and to have mini-satorus running around to terrorize the jujutsu world.

you warned him, “that means you can’t tell tsumiki either, i don’t want her to rush back home from her study abroad program just because of this.” (read 'wherever you are' here)

megumi reached his pinky out to you and you locked yours with his, both of you kissing your thumbs to seal the seal. he wrapped his arms around you in a warm hug. you needed that comfort right now.

“if i do the math, you’re about 5 weeks pregnant, (y/n).” shoko said, “so stop taking your birth control if you want to keep your baby.” megumi’s green eyes peered over at you, interested in what you had to say about that.

“what if i want to get an abortion…?” you asked quietly. megumi’s eyes now wide in horror. 'how could you even think about abortion?' he thought.

shoko sighed, “i think that’s something you should have a serious talk with gojo about. it would be unfair for him not to know.”

you weren’t sure if you should feel excited, nervous, or scared. you were excited because who wouldn’t want to have a child with the love of their life? you were nervous (and scared) because you didn’t know how satoru would react if you told him. you were scared because your unborn baby would be a target to all rival clans, inheriting all of yours and satoru’s enemies. not only that, but also a target for all intelligent curses as well.

later that night: the gojo/(l/n) household

“how was your yearly check up?” satoru asked as you poked at your medium rare steak that you probably shouldn’t be eating now that you were pregnant. he watched you as you rolled a roasted baby potato around your plate with your fork.

“it was fine. healthy as a horse.” you recycled your joke from this afternoon. satoru furrowed his brows, he sensed something was wrong. you were fine this morning, so what happened between the time you went to work and the time you got home?

“are you sure…?” he started to pry.

annoyance starting to rise in your tone. you kissed the back of your teeth, “i just don’t feel well… and the steak is too rare.” you lied. you always ate your steak medium rare. rareness did not bother you, the cow could still be mooing and you’d eat it.

“i can always put it back on the grill, babe. want it medium?”

“well-done, please.” you mumbled, “thanks, sweetheart.”

satoru picked up your plate, extremely confused on why all of a sudden you would eat a well-done steak. it was very unlike you. he kissed you on the cheek to try to ease whatever it was that was bugging you. you wanted to tell him so badly that you were pregnant. you never kept secrets from each other. you watched him slide on his slippers, opening the door to the patio with catoru following behind him. he slapped your steak on the grill again while looking out at the tokyo skyline.

during this time, you wondered what kind of father satoru would be. you imagined he would be the carefree type of dad. he would be the fun, loving, lenient father while you were the one to lay down the rules. that’s how it was when you were both raising megumi and tsumiki. your eyes started to well up with tears at the thought of satoru possibly becoming a father. was this the pregnancy hormones getting to you?

you quickly wiped your tears as satoru made his way back into the apartment with your steak. he closed the door behind him and sat down next to you at the dining table.

“why were you crying just barely?” he asked softly. he could sense your cursed energy wavering from the patio. he knew every mood you were in just because of how your cursed energy looked to his six eyes.

“i wasn’t crying,” you said adamantly, “my eyes were itchy.”

satoru understood that whatever was bothering you, you didn’t want to talk about it. normally, he would pry and pry until you would finally tell him what was wrong, but tonight, he felt that he shouldn’t. he cut your steak into bite-sized cubes for you, just like how you always did before you started eating.

you caressed his cheek with your hand, giving him a soft smile in appreciation.

“should we go get some ice cream with the kids tomorrow? i promise i’ll treat.” he asked, knowing that ice cream always made you feel better after a shitty day.

“yeah. i need that dairy-free double scoop of chocolate ice cream right now.” (read ‘seeing red’ here)

the next day

you had taken half a day off to meet satoru, nobara, yuji, and megumi in shibuya to grab the ice cream that satoru promised you last night. you and satoru walked next to each together as your spirit birds flew overhead. the students were following behind you with their ice cream cones.

“i still can’t believe gojo-sensei has been dating (y/n)-sensei for over 10 years.” nobara hissed at her two partners as she watched you and satoru walking together in front of them.

“why is it hard to believe? sensei is a pretty good looking dude.” yuji said nonchalantly.

megumi sighed and explained, “that’s not the point, itadori. the point is that (y/n)-sensei is way out of his league.”

“you seem pretty close to her, fushiguro.” yuji pointed out, noticing that megumi always defended you no matter what the topic was.

“i kinda owe her and gojo-sensei my life.” megumi grumbled, “they took me in when i was five.”

nobara looked at him, wide-eyed, “you mean… they adopted you when they were 18?! and (y/n)-sensei is basically like your mom?! oh my god! he needs to put a ring on her immediately for all he puts her through!”

megumi knew the reason why you two weren’t married yet. it was for your safety, not because gojo-sensei didn’t want to. he would’ve married you right after high school graduation if that was the case.

you giggled to yourself as you scooped chocolate ice cream to feed to satoru. he grabbed the spoon from you, licking it clean.

“their conversation is so funny.” you said to him.

“are you listening to them with your shikigami? you’re so nosy.” satoru playfully chastised you.

you called back your birds with your hand signal as they flew closer to you and satoru. they seemed to be flying happily as no danger was around. “your students are wondering why we aren’t married yet.”

“you already know why.” satoru put the spoon back into your ice cream.

“you don’t want to make me a target.” you recited back to him. satoru gojo believed that if you were to marry him, you would be a target and gain all his and the gojo clan’s enemies. that would make you the achilles' heel to the strongest sorcerer known to man.

“it’s not like people don’t know that we’re together.” you rolled your eyes, “i can take care of myself, satoru. i'm pretty sure the kamo clan is out for my head as we speak.” (read ‘love at first fight’ here)

“i know you can take care of yourself. i just think it’s safer this way.” he shrugged.

“but i want to have kids too. i’m not getting any younger.” you inserted, hoping he’d take the bait to talk about having kids.

“what are you talking about? we have two kids, megumi and tsumiki.” satoru said nonchalantly, you wanted to face palm your forehead to how oblivious he was.

digging deeper, you added, “i want kids with white hair and blue eyes running around.”

“hate to break it to you sweetheart, but they won’t be getting blue eyes. there can only be one six eyes in a lifetime, you already know that.”

“what about your white hair?” you tip-toed to ruffle his hair as he laughed, grabbing your hand.

“what about your black hair and beautiful green eyes that i love so much?” satoru grinned at you, “if you want, we can practice reproducing later tonight?”

you threw an ice shard at him, hitting his infinity. “no inappropriate jokes around the students, please.” you chastised him as he winked at you. you scooped another bite of ice cream into your mouth as you frowned.

“so feisty… i’m in for a world of trouble if our future kids ever get your attitude.”

“if that’s the case… you better get ready.” you muttered under your breath.

satoru didn’t hear your comment. “hmmm? what’d you say?” he asked.

“nothing, eat your ice cream.” you replied, quickly shoving another spoonful in his mouth.

"ouch, brain freeze." satoru grimaced.

one week later

time was ticking as the baby in your stomach was growing. you had to tell satoru you were pregnant.

your morning sickness was horrible. you didn’t want satoru to catch onto anything, so whenever you felt sick, you ran to the bathroom near megumi’s room across the apartment instead of your master bathroom. (see the apartment layout here)

“babe?” satoru found you in the guest bathroom, hurled over the toilet, dry heaving. “are you okay?” he crouched down to pull your hair back, “do we need to go see shoko?”

“no, it’s fine.” you pushed him away, “leave me alone, please. i don't want to you see me like this.”

“and why would i leave you alone? there's clearly something going on with your health again.” he comforted you, rubbing firm circles on your upper back.

after your morning sickness session in the bathroom subsided, you miserably dragged your feet back to your bathroom to brush your teeth. satoru leaned against the bathroom door frame, arms folded. you turned to face him.

“don’t you have a mission today?” you asked him, hoping that he'd leave soon.

“yeah, i do. but don’t change the subject. what is going on? are you sick?” satoru asked. the past week you had unintentionally become distant and avoided having deep conversations with him. he felt the cold shoulder from you emotionally and he hated it. he was starting to get fed up.

“no. i’m not sick.”

“do you have some type of terminal illness or something that you’re not telling me about?”

“no, satoru!” you scoffed in disbelief. he was so smart and cunning in battle, how could he not put 2+2 together for something as simple as this?

“do you want to break up with me? is that it? are you tired of me?” he asked quietly.

how could he ask you that after 10 years of putting up with him?

“no!!!” you shouted at him.

“then what is it, (y/n)?!” he finally snapped after a week of trying to be patient, “what are you hiding from me?” satoru’s voice raised an octave as he got more frustrated as the conversation was going nowhere.

you couldn’t handle it anymore. you clenched your fists, water started pouring out of the apartment faucets and showers from your raging cursed energy.

“i’m pregnant!” you shouted back at him.

satoru lifted his blindfold, his blue eyes widened, jaw dropped. it was as if time stood still for him. the only thing he could hear was the sound of your angry breathing and all the faucets flowing throughout the apartment.

“what…?” satoru whispered, “that can’t happen. you’re on birth control.”

“that’s what i thought too. but shoko confirmed it.” you told him as tears started to form on your long dark lashes.

“damn it… damn it. damn it!” satoru hissed. he ran his fingers through his hair, pushing off his blindfold and throwing it at the bathroom counter. “why didn’t you tell me?”

his reaction hurt your feelings, “because i didn’t know what your reaction would be and clearly you’re not happy about it.”

“how far along are you?” he asked, ignoring your comment. he walked towards you to stand beside you, putting his hand on top of yours. you flinched as you took your hand back to wipe your tears away.

“6 weeks. it’s early enough that i can get an abortion.” you sniffled.

“just… don’t make any decisions right now.” he said. it sounded like he was begging you, “we can talk more when i get back from this damn mission.”

satoru leaned towards you. he grabbed the side of your head to kiss your temple, “i love you, (y/n). i'm not mad at you.” he whispered.

satoru’s mission

it took everything in satoru not to leave you behind at the apartment alone after the way he reacted. why did he have to be assigned such a lowly mission? any of the students could’ve handled it, so why did it have to be him out of all people and out of all the days?

he teleported to shinagawa where it was reported that a curse was terrorizing an elementary school. it looked deserted when he arrived at the front gate.

satoru raised two fingers to put up a veil, “emerge from darkness, blacker still. purify that which is impure.”

he walked into the school, his six eyes sensing the curse right away. it couldn’t have been more than a grade 2 or 3. he heard a bloodcurdling scream, leading him to the gymnasium.

“please help!” a woman’s voice screamed and begged as the curse towered over her. satoru teleported in front of the woman and swiftly blasted the curse away with sheer force, exorcising it immediately.

“are you alright?” satoru turned to ask the woman. he stopped dead in his tracks.

she was pregnant.

“please sir, save my baby.” she begged as she was bleeding from her abdomen. her hands and arms shielding her womb protectively. the curse must’ve already injured her before satoru arrived. he kicked himself for his late arrival. he could’ve prevented this if he came earlier.

he lifted the injured woman in his arms, “don’t worry. i’ll save you. nothing will happen to you or your baby.” he promised as he teleported to the closest hospital.

tokyo shinagawa hospital

“it looks like the patient and her baby will be fine. she was close to full term. if she lost any more blood, her and the baby would’ve died.” the doctor reported back to satoru as ijichi stood next to him, documenting everything for the report that he would have to fill out later.

satoru was deep in thought about how this woman begged him to save her baby and not herself. it was the fact that she so selflessly put her baby first that really got to him.

he thought about you and what you would’ve done if you were in that woman’s shoes. he knew that you would protect your baby with your life because he would do the exact same thing. satoru felt his protective instinct skyrocket now more than ever.

satoru’s heart felt heavy. he immediately felt guilty knowing that you thought he didn't want to have kids and how hard this must have been for you the past week. he wanted to be there for you, but he was terrified of the unknown. would he be a good father? would he be able to protect this baby? and were you even happy being pregnant with his child?

“ijichi, can you take care of the rest? i have somewhere i need to be.” satoru asked impatiently.

ijichi complained, “are you sure you’re not just trying to pawn off your work to me?”

“there are two people who need me right now.” satoru waved as he teleported back to the apartment. the two people in question? you and the baby that was growing in your belly.

back at the apartment

you felt satoru’s cursed energy appear as he teleported back into the living room. he walked towards you and hugged you tightly, surprising you.

“can’t. breathe.” you said as your face was squished into his firm chest.

he immediately let go of you, scared he hurt the baby by embracing you so tightly.

“i know what you're thinking, the baby is fine.” you said as you hugged him back even tighter in return, “did you know the baby is the size of a sweet pea according to my baby tracking app? so they wouldn't have even felt that hug.”

“that’s pretty small.” he said, chuckling softly. he paused to take a deep breath, he then looked down at you, “can we talk?”

you nodded as he guided you back to the couch, sitting down in the soft white cushions as he sat on the floor in front of you, holding your hands.

he looked you in the eyes, “don’t get an abortion, (y/n).”

you blinked twice, “well, that’s not what i was expecting. what changed your mind?”

“i never said i didn’t want kids, babe.” satoru said defensively.

you mumbled as you folded your arms, “you made it sound like you didn’t. and your reaction when i told you i was pregnant earlier today doesn’t support that statement.” avoiding eye contact with him.

he grabbed your hands again and explained his point of view, “i was upset that you hid it from me. and i was surprised because you were on birth control which is supposed to prevent pregnancy. and i was really fucking scared.”

“scared? the satoru gojo scared of a baby the size of a sweet pea?” you emphasized. he furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“i had a come-to-jesus moment during my mission.” he started to say, “(y/n), i’d do anything for you. just like you would for me. but now… we can’t put each other first anymore. we have to set our priorities elsewhere.”

“what do you mean by that?”

“we have to think of this baby and how this baby will always come first now.”

you were quiet, processing what satoru just said. yours and satoru's lives were going to drastically change. this baby would be your number one priority in life. you and satoru spent the last decade caring deeply for each other and being each other's prime concern, now this baby would come first.

you realized that he was terrified of having this baby be the center of his universe, knowing that the baby would be defenseless without you and him. satoru wanted to protect this baby with his life, just like the mother he saved today who wanted to save her baby's life.

being a parent meant that you would always have your heart living outside of your body, and that would make you vulnerable to extreme pain, but also let you experience indescribable love. and that was something you were willing to risk experiencing in life with satoru.

“you're right, babe. i agree.” you said softly, you held his cheek in your hand. “you really want to do this? you really want to be a dad?”

“hell yes i want this.” satoru said confidently, holding your hand against his cheek.

“how dare you get me pregnant, satoru gojo.” you jokingly reprimanded him.

he kneeled forward into you as he kissed you softly, “sorry, it was an accident.”

EXTRA:

“babe! show me this baby app you’ve been using this past week.” satoru demanded playfully as he pulled you into his lap. you grinned as you grabbed your phone to pull up the ‘what to expect’ app.

“so! baby gojo is the size of a sweet pea or a nail head. and they’re .25 inches small.”

"baby gojo... i like the sound of that." he smiled at the thought. he nodded, a signal for you to continue.

“it says that baby gojo’s face is forming and taking shape! i hope they don’t get your big head...” you laughed as satoru frowned.

“my head is not big!” he defended himself, “moving on.”

“it says that the heart starts to pulse around this time and we should be able to hear a heartbeat at my first pre-natal appointment…” you said with a smile.

“i’ll make sure i request that day off.”

“you better! or i’ll have a word with principal yaga.” you smacked his chest playfully with the back of your hand. “baby gojo supposedly looks like a tadpole with a tiny tail. and i won’t feel any movement for awhile.”

“so you can’t feel it move or anything?” satoru asked curiously.

“no, but i’m feeling these pregnancy symptoms.” you complained, “my boobs hurt, my heartburn is worse than usual, and the morning sickness is killing me.”

“okay, so basically, don’t touch your boobs anymore, carry extra tums for you, and hold your hair for you when you throw up in the morning. got it.” satoru noted.

you glared at him with your emerald green eyes, “please stop talking.”

wanna know how the rest of oc gojo girlfriend's pregnancy goes? read the next chapter, ‘milestones’ here.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

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holdinbacksecrets · 10 months

Note

Hi! Can you please write BTS version of the voicemails they will send hinting their feelings? Thank you 😊

thank you for requesting 🖤

voicemails from bts, hinting feelings

namjoon: “i was in a bookstore the other day and started to imagine a book you wrote being on the shelves someday. everything you do, down to the indentation of your steps, leaves behind a story. do you remember your birthday two years ago? you drank one glass too many, and it’s like the fiction unleashed. i recorded a voice memo, but i never played it for you. i want to.”

jin: “are you scared? this morning you sounded really scared on the phone. i’m sorry i didn’t say more or say enough. i was caught off guard because you’ve never showed me scared before, not like that. i’ve seen your apprehension. i’ve seen your insecure. i’ve seen your anxiety, but this was consuming fear. i’m making dinner, and i feel like you probably haven’t eaten today… if your anxiety gives anything away about your scared. come over when you’re off. i’ll greet you with a hug and bowl of soup. or two bowls. i have cheese and bread too. the good bread. the loaf you turned me on to.”

yoongi: “you used the notes app on my phone to write out your grocery list, and i’m amused. it sounds like you’re having a conversation with yourself: right now, i want rice crispies, but i’ll probably change my mind once i’m in the cereal aisle. trust your gut, or get two boxes. you’re 26. no one is stopping you. oh! get some apple juice too. i keep having dreams about twelve year old me at a friend’s house. we’d sit at the kitchen island after school with graham crackers and apple juice, and i miss her. i miss those simple conversations. you’re so pure and magnetic. sometimes i wonder where you came from, but then i’m just glad you made it here—tumbled into my life because you did tumble. you’ve always made the story sound too elegant. the tumble was charming, i promise.”

hoseok: “you’ve been sharing recipes with me, or i guess i should say the final product of your recipes has been shared with me, repeatedly, and now i’m starting to wait for the knock on my door or the ring of a text. is that bad? i wouldn’t want you to ever think i’m demanding treats, but i love… i love the time we spend together when you bring them over, and your eyes sparkle when my expression changes because of how good everything always tastes… i love that too.”

jimin: “did you say everything you needed to yesterday? i swear your lips parted and you leaned in so many times to never say anything. i know it was a busy place, and it’s not that fun sitting at a table for twelve. but i was ready to listen. i’ll be ready at 2 am too. whatever you need. there’s something to this, right? to the ease of our conversations. you trust me?”

taehyung: “do you want to sculpt clay with me? i bought a whole bag and a bunch of tools. i thought about booking a private lesson, but i wanted my record player and access to a kitchen and the ability to get my hands dirty whenever i want to—need it. do you need it too? if not, keep me company while i try to make something?”

jungkook: “can i pick you up today? this is going to sound ridiculous, but your smell used to linger in my car, and i can’t quite make out the notes of your perfume anymore. i can imagine them, but they don’t meet me when i open the door… i can’t leave this as a voicemail on your phone. can i leave this as a voicemail on your phone? i sound insane.”

bonus: “i’m calling to tell you i’m proud of you. sometimes when we were kids, i used to think our dreams wouldn’t make it higher than the trees. i thought they’d get caught in the leaves, die on branches come winter, but look at us. look at you. you’re incredible. we did it.”

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koimethehorizon · 1 year

Text

Adventure Time and Fionna and Cake Theory: The Victimhood of Simon + How the Series Might End

Prerequisite Watching for this Theory:

Adventure Time: Temple of Mars, Betty, Come Along With Me, Broke His Crown, I Remember You, Holly Jolly Secrets Part II

Gonna start this loaded theory with a bit of a hot take. I’ve never liked how Simon and Betty’s stories concluded in Come Along With Me.

For Simon, I’ve always had trouble considering Simon and the Ice King as the same person. Holly Jolly Secrets and I Remember You, the pinnacle of depicting the dichotomy of the two characters is built on us seeing Simon as suffering irreversible memory loss and how his loved ones can grow to accept that. The context is most apt when viewed as a metaphor for dementia, Alzheimer’s, or simply old age.

The scenes in which Ice King reacts so superfluously to characters desperately wishing for his old self to return are striking because of the cruel finality of his condition. Alternatively, the ones in which his loved ones hang around with him despite his condition are sweet in their own right.

One of my favorite Ice King scenes is in Broke His Crown where Marceline invites her girlfriend to meet her surrogate father.

Bubblegum: What's this?

Ice King: It's a present, to bribe you for coming over!

Marceline: You don't have to bribe us silly, we're here because we WANT to hang out with you.

Ice King: No one has ever said that to me before.

*snatches present*

Ice King: You didn't say no takebacks.

There was a real poignancy to depicting an old man with memory-loss slowly having people come to accept him and realize that he’s still a swell guy to hang around. It may be depressing to see this good person who was once so unconditionally caring into a buffoon who could forget your name so easily and turn on you in the flip of a coin.

But even he deserved love from others. And in time, as a result of that love, he did improve.

Which is why, even in Fionna and Cake, I find myself still disturbed seeing Simon in his normal state and Ice King completely erased from Ooo. It kills me that Betty and in extension, the show itself could not accept Ice King as he was and felt that his best course was to undo it all.

All of his experiences for 1000+ years all of a sudden no longer matter, and the acceptance of his peers no longer mattered as well. He's just back to who he used to be in a world where everything he's known is gone.

Happily ever after

Even worse, however, is remembering the wish that allowed Simon to be cured. The person who sacrificed her individuality to get that good person back, because she couldn’t accept reality as it was.

And I’m going to put a second hot take. A spicy one. Simon needs to take the fault in Betty's fate and Fionna and Cake (the show not the characters) seems aware of this.

Throughout Adventure Time, Simon Petrikov was never developed as a character. As far as the audience and the characters within Adventure Time knew, the only traits about Simon that mattered were: that he was intelligent, he was a kind man, and he loved Betty.

This wouldn’t really be a compelling character on its own, but when juxtaposed with the Ice King it’s a tragedy that he lost these traits. The compelling part of Simon was his victimhood to the ice crown and not really him as a person.

It’s why Obsidian’s version of Simon feels somewhat empty, he’s back to his intelligent, kind self but there’s no real hints to how he’s mentally adjusting other than that brief glimpse in Ice King’s robes again.

And he looks really weird in this special too. Color me surprised when Simon Petrikov reads out the problems I've had for years about his ending while also making Simon into his own person. In many ways it just completely redos what we see of him in Obsidian.

He's still a kind man but even he can't handle being so maladjusted to a world so beyond his time. He's still intelligent but his passions aren't reciprocated, and that seems to have always been the case even in the past. Rather than a guy who doesn't take shit from guys like Marceline's ex or a first responder to his daughter's problems, he's a normal guy unable to handle the threats of Ooo's world even after 12 years of living in it. Rather than singing to large communities in bliss, he's a lonely alcoholic who can't even relate to his fellow humans anymore. He loves his adopted daughter but there are even some days he can't muster the courage to be honest with her. And most importantly, he doesn't seem to know how to live beyond his curse or his loneliness.

His mutual obsession with Betty is the only character trait of his that's ever had some distinct flaw and with this new show, the writers must have finally found a way to tackle the subject further. Betty is ultimately a greater victim than Simon. She ends up in a far worse fate than Simon has ever been in. Perhaps more disturbingly, she willingly chose to strip herself of her individuality.

Fionna and Cake brings a contradiction to light about Simon and Betty’s seemingly perfect relationship. Simon and Betty's love is real and they do make each other happy. But there does exist a co-dependency that has worsened throughout the series as a result of their insecurity of letting a bad memory conclude their relationship. Betty's patterns are pretty clear throughout her tenure as Magic Woman but not too much with Simon. Not until now.

In Jerry, Simon stops Betty from pursuing her dreams because he didn’t want her goodbye to be his last memory with her.

In Betty, Simon rewrites history and inadvertently summons her to Ooo because he didn’t want Betty’s look of contempt to be his last memory of her.

And through all of Fionna and Cake, Simon has turned into a suicidal man willing to resummon GOLBetty regardless of the reasons she can’t see him again. All because he didn’t want her sacrifice to be his last memory of her. Despite the fact that Betty’s final wish was to keep Simon safe.

There's also this uneven power dynamic between the two. Simon was far more accomplished as a professor with PhDs even if no one took him seriously. Betty was just a student offering some help, knowing she wouldn't take any credit for helping.

I’ll preface that Betty is a consenting adult in the relationship and made many self-determined rash choices that Simon would never approve of with full context. We’ve enough scenes to show that Simon actively refuses Betty’s help if it means endangering her.

However, Simon’s perception of Betty and his own inadequacy did influence her personality for the worse. Fionna questions Simon on two occasions about how strange it was for “someone she just met to drop everything to go with you”. Even within the flashbacks Betty verbally describes her internal conflict between her individuality vs. her infatuation with Simon and the guy never picks up on it.

Whether he’s aware of it or not, Simon always ends up becoming the center of attention during Betty’s greatest life-changing events because he’s always suffering in some way. And sadly in-character, Betty always prioritizes him first because of how sorry she feels for him.

Simon: Just hold my hand to your face, this will be my… last sensation.

Betty: Don’t be a wimp, Simon!

I don’t want to be too hard on Simon, his suffering is cosmologically depressing. An undeniable tragedy that no one deserves to be alone on. It would be unfair to say he’s being dramatic about something most if not any human would ever go through. He’s not a leech for desiring help, especially from his significant other.

But I do think it’s important to point out that he does have a major flaw in not reflecting on the consequences of Betty’s choices.

Fionna: Damn, that’s romantic. So, you got on the bus with her?

Simon: Yup. Uh what? No. No. Why would I-

This is the reason this post exists. This is the show explicitly telling us that Simon has never really thought about what Betty lost because he thinks his love was greater than the passion Betty once had.

Let's go back to Betty once again for what is honestly the most justifiable takedown you could make of Simon's character prior to the miniseries.

As stated earlier, Simon opens a portal to ask for Betty's forgiveness with a few seconds on the clock. And in that time, he essentially just unloads a giant drama bomb, trauma dump of his suffering leading Betty to ask what she can even do without him. And if the plan went as it was, Simon would've just left her a hundred questions that she'd never have answered for the rest of her life.

Simon: Just know that I love you and I forgive you for leaving me. Author's Note: I dunno, isn't there something a bit off about how he worded this?

Now Simon didn't ask for Betty to jump into the portal, but he certainly was asking for it subconsciously. How else would he have expected a person who loves him dearly to act after this?

Taking any measures necessary and finding a way back together obviously. That's what he's doing too!

And reiterating again, this is the reason why Betty goes on her ego-suicidal quest. This is Simon's greatest mistake, his greatest moral failing as a person and he doesn't seem aware of this.

He’s not wrong that Betty lived happily with him. In spite of losing her dreams, Betty and Simon did love each other unconditionally. But he’s missing the bigger picture about how he could’ve been self-centered in deciding Betty’s fate for himself.

And maybe to stretch somewhat, I think even the quest to become Ice King again is somewhat motivated by his inability to live as anything more than a victim. Some of it is because the citizens of Ooo were being a bit inconsiderate about how much they liked Ice King yes, but Simon should be perfectly aware that Marceline, Betty, and now Fionna would be extremely concerned about him for doing this. Yet, he doesn’t really consider their feelings too much on the matter. He’s too used to the suffering.

Please have one scene with Marceline, I'd be sad if we don't get to see at least one.

This leads me to how I believe Fionna and Cake may rewrite Simon’s ending.

The key is in the episode Temple of Mars.

Upon rewatching the episode, I’m convinced that the Adventure Time cast had a greater plan with the Betty and Simon arc that just never came to be due to production constraints. A lot of Betty’s history and the deconstruction of her relationship with Simon in Jerry are surprisingly details that have already been told.

I thought it was an animation error that Betty’s glasses were different in Jerry but it turns out the continuity director is just that good.

The trip in six months, Simon stopping her, and the realization that Simon superseded her identity. Seeking independence from Simon is the lesson that Normal Man was trying failed to teach her.

Betty: I’ve spent so much time dedicated on Simon that I’m not even sure if there’s any “me” left anymore.

But the most telling detail is how Betty passes Normal Man’s test.

Finn: Even if you are a lost cause, she is not!

Betty: No, Finn’s right. You’ll thank me for this later past Betty.

In an alternate pocket reality, she changes her trip to the day before, preventing Simon from stopping her. And I think Simon will have to change fate once again to do the same.

If Simon comes to realize that he was the one who set Betty to her terrible fate, that all this time his rose-colored lens of their relationship had been detrimental then he could give her identity back. But it can’t be as simple as changing the moment Betty turns into GOLB or Magic Woman or even bringing her through the portal in Betty.

He needs to let Betty go on the bus. Alone.

It’s the only way for Betty to have her life back. If not for his Betty, maybe at least to save one in the multiverse doomed to the same fate.

They both need to cherish their time on the Enchiridion trip back when it wasn’t too late for Betty to go on the trip. Back when they were both equals and not tied to Simon’s needs.

Jerry is absolutely setting up something big with Simon and Betty’s relationship for next week and now that we’re going to the GOLB dimension, we’ll see how he remembers these moments again.

Personally, as someone who has been skeptical about Simon's peace for years, Fionna and Cake's second episode was like a sigh of relief. Simon hasn't found his ending yet, and my hope is that this epilogue will help me see the man happy without having to relive Betty's sacrifice for the rest of his life. Just like the rest of Adventure Time, it'll have to end with him cherishing the time he had with Betty regardless of the inevitability of losing that relationship.

PS. Isn’t quite strange that at one point in time, Simon sought after magic objects that ostracized him from the normal world and now, he lives in a house full of 1980s-1990s objects that ostracized him from the magical world? Maybe he was never really satisfied with where he was in the present.

PSS. I really wanted to write something on Fionna for the Ep 3-6 releases, and I still have the idea, but I couldn’t make it coherent due to how much my brain overthinks everything to the point of cognitive collapse. If there’s enough interest, I’ll go back to write it again.

#fionna and cake #adventure time #simon petrikov #betty grof #fionna and cake spoilers #adventure time spoilers #animation #art #hbo max #fionna campbell #theories #character analysis #discussion #petrigrof #golbetty #simon and betty

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rainylana · 5 months

Text

“I’m always going to take care of you.” Alternate version!

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: this is a new version of my old series i wrote last year. so many people have asked to see more of how eddie deals with such a horrible thing happening to the reader, so here we go, this is for you!

warnings: PLEASE READ! this is purposely written, in the beginning, as fast paced. i was trying to establish a sense of anxiety and fear while writing it because of how quickly it happened. the assault happens differently and does not go into much detail this chapter, but will during the next. i purposely switched povs because i still wanted to give insight to the reader. so with that being said, warnings for this fic include: rape, blood and bruises, broken bones, hospitalization, language, smoking of weed, trauma and shock, lots of tears and angst. please, please, let me know what you thought and if there’s anything i need to go about differently. it’s been a year since i’ve properly revisited this series. i feel like this version will be much darker and will take more of a toll. let me know your thoughts and if anything needs changed. i never spellcheck lol. this one’s for all of us. i see you and feel you. much love, lana.

Steve Harrington’s parties were the kind that were talked about for weeks on end. The music, the food, the house. It was a mansion, and there had been many of times were you and Eddie had slept in multiple rooms of that house, unbeknownst to the owners knowledge.

This party was no different. Bodies were on bodies, beer was spilled and the pool was splashing every drop of water out into the flower bed, that was no covered in trash. There was a basketball court that entertained the jocks. It was an absolute mansion.

You were somewhere. Eddie would see you from time to time getting more beer or a snack, coming over to check on him. He closed his eyes, taking a long drag and leaned against the wall. “Shit, this shit is good.” He coughed slightly, letting his arms fall at his sides, black sleeves pulled up at his elbows.

You found him eventually, hair slightly wet from being splashed at the pool, a towel wrapped around your shoulders. Most everyone was wearing their bathing suits. You smiled when you sat down beside him, laughing at the redness of his eyes. “Feelin good, Eddie?” You tapped his chin.

He grinned at you goofily. “Shit, is the shit, babe. Wanna try?” He offered it to you.

You plopped down on your ass and sat beside him, saying hi to all the others that joined the circle. You laid your head on his shoulder. “Sure you don’t want to come swim with me, Ed? It feels good. Moons out, too. It could be romantic.”

“I give you plenty of romance, darlin’.” He said through hooded eyes, armed laid lazily around your wet shoulders. “Damn, your tits are out!” He exclaimed, finally realizing you had changed, eyes bulging for dramatics.

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “My tits are not out. Everyone is wearing them! You picked it out, don’t you remember?”

“Baby, I’m gonna be honest, I don’t remember much of anything right now.” He was practically drooling at the mouth, giggling like a child and floating off into space.

“Uh, huh.” You gave him a look before turning to the rest of the group. “He’s cut off.”

He was too stoned to realize what you had said, curling up in himself and lulling his head against the wall, eyes drooping closed.

“Eddie, Eddie, oh, okay,” You sighed, watching as he fell asleep. “I’m serious, Gareth, make sure he doesn’t do anything else. I got to carry this guy home, you know.”

You sat with Eddie for almost an hour, making sure he was alright. He always was. He always got tired when he smoked weed, you did too, but not near as much as he did. You gave him a kiss on the cheek, telling everyone else you’d be back and that you were going to change your clothes.

You went to the same room you always did, walked up the same steps and same corridor, the air cool against the exposure of your wet skin. Nobody was upstairs. You had planned for a quick change and nothing more, but you hadn’t any idea what was waiting for you behind the door, or the fact you were being followed.

•

Eddie was in and out of it, waking up here and there if someone spoke loudly enough. Dustin kept laughing, about what, he didn’t know or care. He just wanted to sleep. Later on he would realize that it was probably an act of God that he heard you, because there was no scientific explanation for it. He shouldn’t have heard you.

The music was booming loud, playing a hit from Blondie over the speakers. People were chugging beers, getting high and fucking out in the shed outside, the bedrooms above. The lights were flashing on and off, mixtures of colors painting the walls, their bodies. There was no way he could of heard you, yet he did.

He felt as if he were dreaming at first. His eyes were still closed, body numb from the awkward position he was in. It felt like a loud thumping at first, like something had hit the floor. Then a crash, something had broke. Then a high pitched noise, someone had screamed. It had to have been a dream, because he swore it was you.

Eddies eyes peeled open slowly, foggy and clouded from his high, but he didn’t feel so good anymore, and was left with a chill up his spine. He looked to the right of him to find you gone. “Gareth?” His voice was gravely and deep. “Where’d y/n go?”

Gareth pointed up the stairs quickly, eager to get back to his conversation with Robin about her thoughts on the new Back to the Future movie. Eddie had pushed himself up and found the stairs. It was a mansion, having had to climb four sets of stairs before he could find the hallway. Each set he could hear it clearer. He still shouldn’t have. The music was too loud. He could feel the vibrations underneath his feet against the wood flooring.

He walked quicker and quicker, the sounds of crashing, screaming, begging, becoming louder and louder. Soon, he heard his own name, and he knew it was you. He was running then, as fast as he could to find you. And when he did, the last door on the left, the same room you both had slept in many of times, he was brought to pure horror.

•

You weren’t entirely sure what was happening. Well, you did. You had been raped. You were just confused what was happening now. You were sitting up, staring blankly at the floor. Eddie was down at your feet, saying something, saying a lot of things, actually, but you couldn’t hear him. It sounded like he was underwater. Your ears were ringing, and he kept dabbing his hand under your nose. Were you bleeding?

Your hands were vibrating, along with the other parts of your body, shaking like you were having a seizure. Surely you’d pass out soon. Everything you felt was heightened. The pain, the emotion, or lack of. You soon realized you were going into shock.

You felt everything, yet nothing, all at the same time.

•

Four seconds.

It had taken four seconds for Eddie to react. Four seconds for him to decide what to do. He’d found you bent over the bed, hands pinned above your head and legs split apart. The man above you, twice your size, twice his size, a man he’d never seen before, raping you. It had taken him four seconds to react.

The man above you had stopped when Eddie had come in, staring at him in the act with a look of surprise and shock. Eddie lunged then, knocking the man over and into a side table that crumbled under their weight, a string of punches and curses, the sound of choking and items breaking. There was so much noise, but you didn’t hear any of it. You laid there, bent over, legs spread, a mixture of blood and semen seeping out of you as you stared straight ahead, fixated on the painting in front of you.

Steve and his mom at the beach.

You didn’t hear the sound of Eddie’s cry of pain when your attacker punched the wind out of him, you didn’t hear him run out of the room or Eddie’s footsteps after him, halting halfway and returning back to you. You kept thinking of Steve and his mom. She was so sweet. You really should spend more time with her.

All of that, led to now.

“Baby, baby, please, please, say something!” He panicked, knelt down at your legs, holding your arms to keep you upright, “Oh, God,” He took another look at your legs, covered in blood. “Oh, my god, Oh, my god.” He covered his mouth briefly, not knowing what to do. “Okay, okay,” He jumped up, running to the joining bathroom to grab a towel. “Okay, baby, I got this, see?” He started quickly wiping away at the blood, switching his eyes from his legs to you.

It looked like you’d been killed, or were dying. You said nothing, deathly pale, face stained with tears and mascara, deep bruising that painted your cheeks and eyes purple. Your lip was busted and bleeding. You were shaking with tremors, your breath coming out in little pants that were uneven. You were choking on your sobs, not a single one being allowed out. It hurt to sit, the pain in your abdomen was almost unbearable.

Eddie didn’t realize it himself, but he was also going in to shock. It became harder and harder to get the blood off of you due to his shaky hands, and his breathing become more sporadic and choppy. “I’m getting it, honey. I’m trying.” He said, words coming out in a rush. The towel was stained red when he’d finished, your legs still coated, stained by the blood from inside of you. He looked you over, shaking his head. He didn’t know what to do.

“Y/n,” He gasped, reaching up to grab your face. “Talk to me. Are you hurt? Where does it hurt at?”

You couldn’t look at him. It felt impossible. Your eyes were so heavy. His voice still sounded as if he were underwater, his movements slow, like he was fighting off a current, and you suddenly became freezing, trembling harder like you were out in the snow. Maybe it was the shock.

“Honey, please,” Eddie begged you, eyes tearing up. “I don’t know what to do.”

When he noticed how hard you were shaking, he jumped up and got a blanket from the chair, wrapping it around your body and sitting next to you. “Okay, here, I’m here. Steve!” His scream snapped you out of it, making you gasp and jump.

“No!” Your voice was hoarse, burning as you screamed. “No!” You tried to stand but you collapsed, pointing to the door. “Close the door! Close the door!”

Your urgency made him obey quickly, and he was slamming the door and locking it within a second. “Y/n-”

“You can’t tell anyone!” You sobbed, wobbling on your legs. You were a sight, one that would traumatize him for the rest of his life. “No one, swear it! Let’s just go home!” You we’re a wreck, sobbing, hyperventilating, shaking. Surely you would faint.

“Angel, baby,” He tried to approach you, but you freaked.

“No!” You jumped away. “Don’t- don’t touch me, please!” Was the room getting darker?

“Okay, okay,” He held up his hands, heart racing and bulging, fearful eyes. “I won’t touch you. I’ll stay right here, okay?”

You nodded, mouth opening and closing, feet shuffling, limping, trying to stay upright. Surely, you would faint.

•

His elbows are on his knees, hands pressed against his mouth. The chair he’s in is uncomfortable, an ache in his back that matches the one in his heart. Wayne is there, sitting across from him on the other side of the room. Steve, Nancy, Robin and Dustin are outside in the waiting room, along with the rest of hellfire. He tried to be discreet. Well no, that wasn’t true. When you’d fainted, Eddie lost it.

He’d swooped you up in his arms, carrying you down stairs, a sobbing mess, looking anywhere for anyone, to help. He found Mike first, then Chrissy Cunningham. The party was over very quickly.

“Eddie.” Wayne said tiredly, wearing a puffed, flannel coat. “Why don’t you go home, bud? I’ll stay with her.”

“No.” He didn’t miss a beat. He was staring a hole right through you, eyes so tearful they looked to be made of glass. “I can’t leave her.”

Wayne knew he wouldn’t leave. It was four in the morning, and you hadn’t shown any signs of life. If it weren’t for the machines, Eddie was sure you would have been dead. You were so quiet, not a stir, not a twitch. Were you dreaming? Was it good or a nightmare?

“She’s alright, buddy. You know that.” Wayne could see the telltale signs of his panic attack coming on. “You heard what the doctor said.”

You had abrasions along your vaginal walls. Your nose was broken, now covered with gauze and medical tape. You had two broken ribs, bruises covering your entire body. The doctor had asked him questions he didn’t know the answer to. Eddie knew what had happened, but what had really happened?

You would be okay. He knew that. You were alive and you survived. But were you okay? What would you become when you woke up? You would be totally traumatized, or would you simply move on with life? He knew the answer and he hated himself for knowing it. He knew the pain you were going to suffer when you woke up. He saw it. He saw what it was you would have to endure. A part of him wished you would sleep peacefully forever.

It felt like every vital organ inside of him had been ripped apart, like his stomach had been cut and everything spilled out. He’d thrown up twice since they got to the hospital. It been hours since you both got there. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d saw. Your body being used, abused by a man who had beaten you up, raped you, split you open and left bloody.

“Oh, god, Wayne.” Eddie broke down in sobs, shoulders sinking and face hiding into his hands for a shield, a mask to hide from the world. “This is all my fault.”

The image of you had scared his brain, the mental image something he thought he’d never be able to erase. Through everything he had gone through, this moment here, was the worst moment he had ever lived through, and he himself, would make a deal with god if he could, just to take your place, to take it all away. The love of his life was in pain, and it caused him more hurt than he could have ever imagined.

His uncle looked at him, saddened and distraught for the both of you. “Don’t say that, Eddie. You know she’d hate to hear you say somethin’ like that.”

Eddie’s body shook with heavy, deep and broken cries. “It is. I was asleep. I was asleep and stoned out of my mind while she was being raped right above me!” He practically spat the words with a venomous hatred, throwing out his arm as he looked at you longingly. “I failed her. Her, of all people. I fuckin’ failed the one thing I care about most. How the hell am I supposed to live with this?”

Wayne watched him stare at you, stare at you and cry like he was mourning for the entire world, like you had been taken from him.

“How are we supposed to be okay after this, Wayne?” He looked like a little boy then, looking over to his uncle with big, brown eyes. “How can I…how can she ever forgive me?” Another sob, and another. Wayne was sat beside him now, holding his shoulders as Eddie cried.

“You two have been through hell together.” The old man said, on hand on his nephews new. “You’ll get through this. She will and you will. She stood by your side when you were dying, remember? She helped you through it. It did you both in, but you got through it, didn’t you?

He didn’t answer, but he heard his uncle loud and clear. He didn’t know how he’d do it, but he’d help you in every way he could. He owed it to you. You’d patched him up, held him through nightmares and insecurities about his scars. You fed him, helped clothed him and helped him keep himself clean when he was still too sore to move around. You had put your own life on pause for him. He owed it to you to do the same. In his eyes, it was his own fault it happened, anyways.

“Yeah.” Eddie sniffled, wiping away his tears with his jacket. “Yeah, I- you’re right. You’re right. I can help her. I’ll help her. She’ll be okay.”

“She’ll be okay.” Wayne assured him.

He didn’t realize just how hard it was going to be, how a giant rift in your relationship would almost separate the two of you. That the both of you would be forever changed from that night.

Eddie gulped, blinking back tears as he looked at the steady beating of your heart in the vital screen. “She’ll be okay.”

#eddie munson #i will always take care of you #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x female character #female reader

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goldsainz · 1 year

Text

THEY BROKE UP? — one shot.

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader

MASTERLIST.

NOTE: i’m a sucker for angst😁 i don’t know why i felt so inspired, i have never been in a relationship. or what drove me to write that article, which i didn’t spend as much time on as you would think, i guess i was inspired. please enjoy this, happy danny ric grand prix (not anymore😐)!!! this is my longest social media piece to date (templates by @mybodywakesup)

liked by tchalamet, jennaortega and 2,047,159 others

yourusername my EP “FWD” is out in all streaming platforms! this EP comes from a very deep, personal and heartfelt place. many nights of non-stop writing led to me putting out 4 songs i never would’ve released months ago. thank you for giving me time to come back as the best version of myself.

view all 30,707 comments

selenagomez I am so happy you released this! The world needs to see all of your talent shine ❤️

⤷ yourusername thank you for being there sel 🫶

ynfan1 I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR HOW HEARTBREAKING THIS WOULD BE

ynfan2 oh so we’re back to making us cry

dannielfan1 things i wish you said is so about daniel

user1 after 9 months of no content she just puts out four songs?

⤷ ynfan3 please read her newest vogue article before commenting things like this

alexademie i’m in love with you?

⤷ yourusername i’m in love with you too?

ynfan3 LONESOME BEST SONG!!!!!

When I got the call that Y/N Y/L/N wanted to do the article with Vogue, and that I was appointed as the writer I remember thinking ‘What will I say?’. There isn’t much to prepare you when a celebrity like her decides she wants you in her home, opening up about her hardships with you there to listen and write it all down. But, alas, I put my nerves beside me and took all of the questions the world wanted answers to, to the only woman who could answer them.

Her house in the English countryside is just as perfect as you would expect. With dark mahogany floors, potted plants everywhere and white walls that are filled with different memories she framed, Y/L/N’s home is made for those who love the feeling of being at home. It brims with a cosy feeling, from the rugs she picked which bring an unexpected, yet welcome, warmth, to the open space that shows off her beautiful backyard. Y/L/N’s house is nothing short of exceptional. If each room were to speak to me they would all rave about how comfortable they feel, how there is no other that feel like a ‘home’ quite like theirs.

The moment I arrived at her front door, she was the one to open the door and greet me with a hug. There was no one but us at her house, nothing but the comfortable silence and the occasional chirping of a bird. Her outfit was casual, with some Stella McCartney jeans, a Prada silk blouse which she wears with the top 3 buttons open, and a pair of Hermes sandals, it all made her look relaxed whilst still looking polished. She offered me a single-couch to sit down on, offering me different options of beverages she proudly concocted. I opted for a refreshing blueberry lemonade, while she had an already drunk, half-full glass of orange juice.

After what seemed like forever without her presence on red carpets, premieres or her famous F1 paddock appearances, Y/N Y/L/N created an enjoyable life for herself. She admits that even though there have been many hardships, she has pushed through them as best as she can. “Sometimes you just have to take a break, take a moment to look around and wonder what you really need.” She expresses, “This life isn't for everyone. I am very happy with how things turned out for me, and there is not one day I regret what I’ve done. But, there are moments in which things get out of control and space is needed.”

On the outside, Y/L/N has always appeared to the masses as someone who never falters in her step. From her modelling debut when she was freshly 18 years old, turning herself into the face of Prada back in 2012 when the whole world wondered ‘Just who is this girl?’. It wasn't long before she delved into the acting world, with her first role in 2014 for the critically acclaimed film ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’ as ‘Agatha’. Everyone loved her, wondering what her next move would be, so the whole world was shaken when just a year later she released an album. ‘Honeymoon’ took the world by a storm, with emotional lyrics that only added to the mystery of who she was, Pitchfork said “It's an album about love, but "love", as Y/L/N sings it, sounds like mourning. The romance here is closer to addiction—something that's sought for its ability to blot out the rest of life's miseries…”. Nobody knows who drove her to write this, but the speculations never stopped, not to this day. On the inside, however, she struggled to know who she really was.

She talks about not having the right skills to cope with the sudden fame, how overwhelming it all would really be. Still, she never stopped putting out new content for her fans. Nobody could forget the girl who despite all the luxury that surrounded her, uploaded vlogs to youtube about her life. No one could take away her raw authenticity.

Maybe that is why when in May of 2022 her posts on Instagram, Twitter and Youtube came to a sudden halt, fans wondered what happened to her. What made Y/N Y/L/N drop from the face of the earth? Why did she stop appearing everywhere?

The talk never ceased, the world could not let go of the woman they had grown up with and learned to love over a decade ago. “It was weird seeing all those rumours while I battled to know who I was. I tried as hard as I could to drown it all out, so I uninstalled every single social media app I had. I ended my connection with the world to reconnect with myself.” She says. “It was hard, but it was truly what I had wanted for a while.”

Since she appeared in the spotlight, her relationships or lack of, has been questioned. “I watched my female peers struggle to get away from their love lives, how every interviewer didn't care for the projects they were in, but rather who they were with at the time.” She recalls. “I was in a relationship with who I thought was the love of my life, for almost 7 years. It is rather jarring coming to terms that sometimes people grow, and that you are the one that needs out of a relationship which is nothing short of special. My concept of love was tarnished by a guy who was older than me, and another guy who was just as immature as I was. So naturally, I was swept off my feet when suddenly, all I ever knew wasn't how I thought it was.”

Even now, after the heartbreaking experience she went through, Y/L/N only has kind words to say about the man she loved. “He is a true gentleman, he knew me like no one else did. I guess, along the way, I stopped knowing myself. That was the problem.” She says. “How can someone else know me when I don't even know myself? I asked myself that a lot. I like to think I know myself better now, I learned how to love every part of me, and that was the most rewarding journey. It wasn’t his fault, but I couldn't love someone else without loving me first.”

Self Love is a very important part of her life now. She puts her well-being over her need to succeed, something that made her iconic, was destroying her slowly. “Being an ‘icon’ to many stuck me in a box. There was an underlying feeling of having to always outperform others and myself, it was exhausting and that was how I started losing sight of myself.”

When talking about her future projects, Y/L/N expressed that she was “taking her time”. No more would she be walked over and feel pressured to put out new content, opting for a more relaxed and controlled lifestyle. Though she once was everywhere everyday, she now hopes to be mentioned when she does something valuable and not when she is merely existing.

“I do have an EP coming out. It is just four songs, but I wrote them alone, and they are my most special songs to date.” She says. “One thing I do not want happening is for people I care for to be harassed or accused of things they are not responsible for. Music is a creative outlet for me, it is never made with the intention to hurt anyone.” She adds. “‘things i wish you said’ is my favourite. It’s the first one I wrote after my breakup, which makes it the rawest out of all of them. I think that's why I like it so much, the other three were written in different periods of my life, some even years ago. It will be fun seeing everyone dissect them.”

She decided to keep the EP to just four songs because all the others were too personal or she decided to keep them for another time. “I’m sure the world would love to know all the nooks and crannies of my past relationship, but that is something I would like to keep between him and me. I am ready to move on from all the pain, to leave it all in the past. If people want to remain stuck there, that is their own choice, I choose to be free and continue growing.”

Y/L/N’s journey is far from finished. She has not even turned 30 yet, but she redirects her narrative because it just does not fit her anymore. She is not that young 18 year-old girl who knows nothing, but rather a 28 year-old woman “ready to move on” as she puts it.

At that point in our conversation, her previously relaxed demeanour has only grown. With her legs tucked on the black leather couch she has in her wide living room, an arm resting on a deep magenta pillow, she is in her own space. Y/L/N smiles and pays attention to every question I ask, she has no qualms in sharing. Though she sometimes opted to give no comment about certain situations, not once did she feel offended or made me feel out of place.

As our conversation came to an end, she gave me one final piece of advice: “Only you can decide what's best for you. Once you learn how to manage other people’s opinions, there is nothing that can truly stop you from being uniquely you. Love yourself, you have one life, why live it in misery?”

liked by ynfan21, danielfan21 and 103,859 others

yndanielenthusiast i will never forget when they both posted the same picture to hard launch their relationship

view all 1,558 comments

ynfan22 what if this was my 13th reason?

ynfan23 we all remember where we were when this dropped

⤷ danielfan22 i woke from a nap, checked instagram and screamed so loud my parents thought someone died

⤷ ynfan23 so real

user21 missing them hours

ynfan24 nothing could’ve prepared for y/n confirming their breakup. nothing.

danielfan23 I NEED THEM BACK

⤷ ynfan25 THOSE TWO WERE LITERALLY MY PARENTS

liked by yourusername, redbullracing and 462,071 others

danielricciardo Don’t leave me hangin 🙃

view all 6,931 comments

ynfan31 y/n liking this😭

danielfan31 IM SO HAPPY HES HAPPY WITH RBR

ynfan32 say what you want abt y/n (don’t) but she’s handling the situation very maturely

danielfan32 he’s smiling while we’re all in shambles smh

⤷ danielfan33 right???

user31 I need him back on track asap

user32 am i delusional to think the caption means something else or…

⤷ ynfan33 yes.

⤷ danielfan34 yes.

liked by danielricciardo, taylorswift and 1,925,836 others

yourusername many things to come 🥂

view all 28,887 comments

ynfan41 istg if she says an album is coming

⤷ ynfan42 it would be crazy but i don’t think so

zendaya cheers to that!

liked by yourusername

user41 her smile <3

danielfan41 ariana what r u doing here🤨

taylorswift 🍾🍾🍾

⤷ ynfan43 I’M SCARED WHAT’S GOING ON

ynfan44 she has something cooking and i am not prepared

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noxturnalpascal · 1 year

Text

The Hunted

SerialKiller!Joel x F!Reader (8.2k)

DARKAU! POV will switch between Joel and Reader. This is dark compared to anything I’ve ever written before. I am a spooky girlie at heart and I wanted to give this idea some legs. If it’s not your thing, that’s okay. Spooky Halloween everyone!

Summary: This Ken is a Ski Instructor. This Ken is a Veterinarian. Well, this Joel is a Serial Killer. The canon Joel is actually kind of a serial killer too, if you think about it. But this version is No-Outbreak, 56-years old, and a Violent, Deranged, Serial Killing Loner. When a new victim practically falls in his lap, he doesn’t take the time to see that she could be his undoing.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. This is a little dark (for me). Murder, Dead Bodies, Sex, Kidnapping, Bondage, DubCon (they want it but they’re tied to a chair), creampie, blood, violence, semen, crime scenes.

A/N: This is: creepy plot with porn at the end. It’s my first posted tumblr story. Spooky Season is upon us!! Please be nice 💜

He’s been enjoying the silence of the cabin in the woods all afternoon. The only sounds surrounding him have been the soft bird songs and din of cicadas drifting through the open window from the outside, and the rustling of his own body moving about the small rooms inside.

The sound catches him so off guard, that at first he looks around the inside of the cabin, trying to figure out where the hum could be emanating from. The cabin is not hooked up to electric, so what could be making that sound? Then he realizes it's coming from outside. He looks out the windows and sees a figure hunched in the bushes, a stone’s throw away from his front door.

He steps to the front door and quietly opens it, watching her at the wood’s edge. It’s definitely a woman, he can tell by the double braids winding down the back of her head, ending in pigtails. She is wearing dark wash blue jeans, a green jacket, and has on a rust-colored backpack. He can hear her humming even clearer now, the melody traversing the short distance to his ears.

He watches as she stays hunched over, reaching into the bushes and rustling the leaves. Nearly a minute passes before she finally stands, wiping her hands off on her thighs. He notices a small wooden bowl at her feet, stuffed full with berries. She is sucking on her fingertips, stained a light purple, when she turns and meets his eyes.

“Oh!,” she says, startled by his presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone was in this ol’ thing.”

She gestures towards the cabin. She has a point. Even at first glance, the woods surrounding the cabin appear to be putting forth their best effort to reclaim it. The roof is covered in fallen leaves, moss and lichen cling to every surface, and the front steps - made of flattop logs - are sinking down, seeming to retreat back into the forest floor. And what he knows that she doesn't - yet? - is that the musty smell of the forest has permeated every square inch of the old log cabin’s interior, and everything inside of it.

He puts on his warmest smile, softening the way his eyes are squinted, and blinks slowly. “Yeah, she’s not much but she keeps me honest,” he says, and he notices the way her body relaxes at his gentle, comforting tone.

“I’m guessin’ I’ve wandered too far. Sorry, I didn’t notice any signs posted.” The gentle lilt of her southern accent hits his ears like a sweet melody.

“Yeah, state land ends at the treeline at the bottom ‘a that hill,” he gestures to the distance, her gaze following where he points. “But I don’t shoot or bite or nothin’, so don’t worry about steppin’ on my property,” he chuckles. He can see her continuing to relax under his welcoming reception.

“I appreciate that. I’ve got one ‘a those little vans in the clearing down there, ‘n I expected more people to be around if I’m being honest.”

He notices she’s said I, not we.

“It’s gettin’ the end of camping season, so there’s fewer ‘n fewer out here, I think,” he waves his hand, hoping to convey how little he even notices the campers on the adjacent land.

“Well I’m sorry about stealin’ your berries. You want ‘em?” and she takes a few steps forward, closing the gap between them, holding the small bowl in her outstretched arms.

The pigtails make her look young. So does the innocence in her eyes, which are partially hidden behind her thick-framed glasses. She stops short of the steps, still about six feet away now, still holding out the bowl.

“No, ‘course not,” he gives her a sideways grin. “Those were gonna get eaten by birds before they got eaten by me. You enjoy ‘em little bird.” His guts twist at the smile that breaks out on her face. The way she looks down, almost bashful.

She turns to walk away and then stops, turning back to look at him. He watches her as she gives the outside of the deteriorating cabin another once-over, and then looks him up and down. “Can I ask you somethin’?” and before he can even respond, she continues. “Is it safe around here?”

His stomach clenches. He gently furrows his brows, “yeah, sure it is, why?”

“I’ve heard a couple things recently about people going missin’. Hikers and campers near here,” she gestures in a circular motion with her finger. “You heard anything about that?”

She is worried. He can tell because she looks worried. God, every emotion she has is playing across her face right now. He can read her like a book. She is so vulnerable. She’s a young woman camping all alone in the woods and she is worried. She should be.

“I haven’t heard anything myself, no. But that happens every year. People underestimate it.”

“Underestimate what?” she interjects, her doe eyes scanning his face.

“Nature,” he replies, and now he gestures around with his finger.

He gives her another soft smile and blinks his eyes slowly. She lets a genuine grin break through her worried features and she nods, taking in his response.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, there’s no one out here to cause ya trouble,” he offers, hoping she notes that he is clearly not a danger. “Besides, if anything happens, you can come back here.”

This time her smile falters a bit. He’s pushed too far. She’s worried. She’s alone. She’s not looking to seek refuge in a stranger’s cabin. He backtracks.

“I’m sure the worst thing that’s gonna happen is ya find a spider in your van,” he continues, “But please don’t come back here for that!”

He gives a low chuckle and is glad to see she does the same, good humor returning to her now relaxing face. She gestures to the bowl of berries and flashes a toothy-smile as a thanks, before turning to retreat down the hill. He hears her call out a goodbye after she turns and he calls one back in response.

He goes back inside and finishes watching her leave until the trees hide her departing figure. He has about seven more hours until dark fully takes hold. Seven more hours until he can seek her out in the clearing with the safe knowledge of remaining undetected. Plenty of time for him to finish prepping the cabin and get himself some dinner.

*****

He thinks he might be getting too old for this. His lower back is aching, his thighs are on fire, and he’s had a stabbing pain in his neck for the last twenty minutes; all due to the fact that he has been hunched against this tree for over an hour. Usually he wouldn’t still be here. He’d have made some observations, taken some mental notes, and planned for additional reconnaissance later on.

But he doesn’t know how long you’re going to be here. You haven’t unpacked anything - not even a folding chair - to indicate that your campsite setup will be anything more than a one-night stay. If you’re gone tomorrow and he has missed his opportunity, he’ll regret leaving now. He has spent the last eight hours thinking about nothing but you.

He’s thought about the way your delicate lips wrapped around your fingertips and the gentle melody you hummed before you knew he was there. He has thought about the kind way you offered him the berries you picked and the way your jeans hugged your ass as you sauntered away. What would your eyes look like if he took your glasses off, if he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, if he wrapped his big hands around your delicate throat?

No, he has to do it tonight. He can’t wait any longer.

Your van is all black. Besides the windshield, there are windows only at the two front seats and the rear double doors. However, you have all the windows covered with blackout panels. Smart. You’re a young woman camping alone, keeping your privacy is a smart thing to do. And keeping peeping eyes out of your space is probably important to you.

You’ve been playing music inside the entire time, though he doesn’t recognize any of the songs. Sometimes he thinks he can hear you humming along. He imagines you’re eating the berries you picked from the bushes outside his cabin. Maybe you’ve changed into more comfortable clothing, maybe you’re sitting on your bed, maybe you’re reading a book. Maybe you’re even thinking about him. He tried not to make an impression earlier but part of him hopes he did.

He really can’t wait any longer.

He moves slowly, not just because his body is quite literally creaking, but because he has to keep his head on a swivel and continue to make sure there are no eyes watching him. He makes his way towards the van, choosing his steps carefully. His head moves back and forth, checking in front of and behind him, watching for any movement. The night is so quiet all he hears is the gentle wind rustling the tall grass and the constant cricket song.

He finally reaches the side door of the van. The music inside is louder from here but he still doesn’t recognize the song. He pats his pockets, obsessively triple-checking he has the supplies he’ll need. He pulls a small tool out of his shirt pocket and sticks it in the door lock. He feels rather than hears the soft click that he knows means he now has full access to you.

He puts his hand on the door handle and inhales a breath, holding it with full lungs. He closes his eyes and imagines what he’ll see when he opens the door, warm light spilling onto him from the inside. What will you be wearing? Will you look excited to see him? Frightened? Will you scream?

“Hey there little bird,” he says quietly as he throws the door open. Confusion falls across his face. He looks down onto the floor of the van, where a single bluetooth speaker sits, still playing music. The single overhead light from the van’s interior barely illuminates the inside, but it doesn’t matter, since there isn’t anything to see.

The inside of the van isn’t a camper. It’s an empty utility van. There are no seats and no wall panels. In fact, the entire inside of the van is covered in thick plastic sheeting, which vibrates a strange buzz from the reverberation of the bluetooth speaker.

He has barely taken it all in when he feels a pinch in his neck. He grabs at it with his hand but there is nothing there and before he can react further, everything goes black.

*****

You hear a couple deep breaths and then some grunting. Maybe this means he’s finally waking up. You walk around in front of where he sits bound naked to a chair, and bend over, hands on your knees, face close to his, cooing gently for him to wake up sleepyhead.

Standing up straight, you watch as he slowly opens his eyes, bit by bit, working to focus. He is blinking long, slow blinks, and his eyes raise to your face. His pupils start going big and then small, his eyes start rapidly blinking as his swirling thoughts begin to come back to him.

Then you see it - recognition.

He crinkles his brows, the crease between them going so deep. His mouth begins to form a question but only a short, dry croak comes out. You can’t help yourself, you laugh at him. A quiet, melodic chuckle.

“Sorry, I think I gave you too much back there,” with two fingers you brush some hair off his forehead that has fallen forward. “I thought you were fatter under all these clothes, but you’re doing alright for yerself there.”

His eyes fall to your shirt - well, his shirt - and then to his own lap. He’s just realizing he’s naked. Then his eyes trail back up your body as he takes in the fact that you’re wearing all of the clothes you stripped off him.

His mouth opens again but you don’t let him even try to speak this time. You grab his face and his eyes snap to meet yours. “Remember when I asked if you knew anything about those campers and hikers goin’ missing?” You drop your hand from his face and step to the side to reveal a folding table set up behind you. Along the table you have laid an array of different souvenirs he had plucked from his victims.

“You told me you didn’t know anything,” you continue, as you watch his eyes grow larger as they rake across the table, taking in the items he had hidden away in his cabin. “But honey, I think you know a lot more than you said you did.”

His eyes slowly come back to yours and you can’t hide the smile you now have plastered across your face. “I don’t-” he starts. You quickly shove your finger overtop his mouth in a shush motion.

“Don’t even try that honey, we’re way past denial now. I already found all yer little trophies.”

Now he flexes in the chair. Your finger drags down his neck and across his shoulder as you walk around the chair, circling him. You watch him continue to strain, testing the ropes, checking to see for himself if you knew what you were doing when you tied him to the chair. You did.

“So what is this?” he mutters, “One a’ them yer friend? Your brother or sister or somethin’?” He continues to push against the unforgiving ropes. “This some kinda revenge plot you got brewin’?”

You can’t help it, you laugh again. “Oh honey, is that what you think?” You place your finger at the top of his forehead and slowly run it down his face, “You think you’ve hurt me?” over his nose, “Think I’m your victim?” over his lips, stopping on his chin. You lean in and ghost your lips right over his. “I’m not your victim honey,” you whisper against his lips, “you’re mine,” pressing into him with a kiss.

You stand up and take a step back. “I know what you are. I know exactly what you are because I’m the same. Well, almost the same,” and you laugh again, breaking eye contact. “When I was young, my adoptive father recognized it in me n’ taught me how to direct it. He called it my dark passenger and I-”

“Y-yer what?” he interrupts.

“What?” You’re back to looking him in his eyes.

“Did you say your dark passenger?” He looks past the folding table strewn with his trophies and sees the ‘camper van’ parked with the side door still wide open, inside still covered with plastic sheeting. “Dark passen- isn’t that from that fuckin’ TV show? Dexter?”

“What the fu-,” you slap your arms against your thighs in frustration. “Don’t tell me you get fuckin’ Showtime in that piece a shit cabin. There wasn’t even a fuckin’ TV in that shithole.”

“Well I don’t fuckin’ live there sweetheart that’s just where I-” he stops short but just rolls his eyes at you. Then he gives you a look like he’s embarrassed for you.

“Oh well excuse me for wantin’ to add a little flair to this situation!” you yell out to the ceiling. “I guess we can’t have any fuckin’ fun around here.”

“So what’re you gonna do now Dex, chop me up and take me out to the ocean?” a cocky fucking grin settles on his face..

“Jesus Christ what’d you watch the whole fuckin’ series?” You look down at his smug face. He thinks he has the upper hand again. This motherfucker. Naked. Tied to a chair. Still thinks he’s smarter than you.

“You know how much fuckin’ work it’d be to chop your fat ass up?” and you watch his grin get wiped off his face. “Think I’m gonna take the time to dismember you? You? I could leave you just like this in a shallow ditch ‘n not one person would even miss you honey.”

“Then whatcha’ fuckin’ waitin’ for, huh?” He snarls, his smugness gone. “Get it over with, let’s go.”

You walk behind him and grab a second chair, dragging it noisily across the floor until it’s parallel to his own chair but facing the other way. You plop down in the chair and lean closer to him.

“I really don’t know how you’re still not gettin’ it,” you say quietly. You drag your finger along the ropes across the front of his chest as he lowers his chin to watch you. “But you are not in charge here.” He lifts his head and his hard eyes meet yours.

“Now… I’m gonna ask you some questions and you’re gonna answer me honestly.”

“And why would I fuckin’ do that?” he says calmly, quietly.

“Cuz otherwise I’m gonna call 9-1-1 right now. When they get here they’ll see I’ve done all their work for ‘em.” you hitch your thumb back to point it towards the table behind you. He sighs a deep breath and - growls? - under his breath.

You point to the table again and ask, “How do you choose your victims?” He shakes his head, tries to shift in his chair but the ropes are tied too tight to allow for much movement. You really do know what you’re doing. He still doesn’t seem to believe it, flexing his arms and chest against the ropes yet again.

“I don’t.” You give him a beat to add more to the sentence but he just stares at you with black eyes, mouth closed and tight-lipped.

“You’re gonna have to do a little better n’ that honey,” you gently coo. He suppresses another growl. You can tell that your little nickname for him is finally starting to grate on his nerves.

“That’s my answer,” he grumbles, refusing to elaborate, staring ahead at the folding table.

“Okay hun, no problem,” you reply as you lean forward and pull a cell phone out of your back pocket. You punch in the lock code and begin to dial. You type in 9 and you see him watching you out of the corner of your eye. You quickly type in the 1 and then hover your finger over the button, ready to repeat the motion. You pause and look up, meeting his eyes.

“You wanna call my bluff or you wanna start talkin’?” and then you smile as you hear jesus fuckin’ christ muttered under his breath and watch him spend some more time straining against the ropes. “Get it over with, let’s go,” you repeat his words back to him in a bad impression of his gruff voice. His scowl deepens.

“I don’t,” he repeats. “I don’t choose ‘em.” He sighs, and you open your mouth to protest that he’s still holding back but before you can speak he continues, “I just take what’s there.”

“You don’t have a type?”

“You seem to know everythin’, look at ‘em,” he nods towards the table where you have placed cut out photos from the missing posters next to the trinkets you found in his cabin. “Does it look like I have a type?” You remember the photos of men and women from all backgrounds on that table.

“So you just take whatever… whoever you can get?”

“Easier that way. Don’t have to go findin’ something specific.” He’s not making eye contact anymore, even though you have leaned in so far your faces are just inches apart. “Less suspicious that way too. Looks less like one person is pickin’ ‘em all off.” He shrugs, then quiets.

You lean back in your chair now, thinking over what he’s said. He’s been doing this for years. You could connect some of his souvenirs to known missing people but he had more items stuffed in his floorboards than you had pictures. So who knows how high his number really is.

“Is that all of ‘em?” nodding your head back towards the table again. His head is still down, seemingly very interested in a freckle on his left thigh. But you see a smile tug at one side of his mouth. He tries to hide it before you can see but it’s too late.

“Yeah,” he lies, unconvincingly. He doesn’t see you roll your eyes. God he’s shit at lying.

You raise the phone up and wave it in front of his face, showing the 9-1 still dialed in. “Is that your final answer, honey?” He lets out a big sigh, like you’ve spoiled his fun. That’s right, we can’t have any fun around here, can we?

“Not exactly,” he grumbles. “Camping season is short ‘round here. Winter comes on quick. I have somewhere else I go sometimes,” he vaguely adds. He doesn’t elaborate further.

“Do you have sex with ‘em before or after you kill ‘em?” you ask, not even taking time to absorb his previous answer. His head snaps up to yours, his eyes wide.

“What?”

“Do you have se-”

“I don’t fuckin’ do that,” he spits, face contorted in disgust.

“Yeahhhh. But that’s what they all say. And, spoiler alert,” your voice goes high and teasing, “they ALL do it.” His face is still tight, mouth curled into a frown.

“Well I fuckin’ don’t,” he looks back down at the freckle on his thigh, continuing to curse under his breath how disgusting you are for asking. “Killin’ doesn’t get me hard,” he snarls.

“Oh honey, I don’t know why you’re goin’ all shy on me now,” you coo, he’s still looking down, shaking his head now. “I’ve been in your little hidey-hole, ya know. It smells like fuckin’ loam ‘n body odor. I took a black light. That place is truly fuckin’ disgusting.” You adjust your glasses on your nose and continue, “I didn’t find a single cleaning product in the whole place. And now you’re gonna act like you’re not in there sprayin’ blood and cum all over the walls?” He doesn’t raise his head but his eyes meet yours under his eyebrows to scowl at you. You lean in till your noses almost touch. “A black light,” you repeat.

“That’s a huntin’ cabin sweetheart, and it wasn’t always mine. So I can’t tell you what yer little black light saw but it wasn’t me doin’ - that - with any ‘a them,” he nods to the table.

Now you consider what he’s said and decide if you believe him or not. He’s a terrible liar, right? Maybe. Or maybe he’s just been playing you this entire time. You don’t give a shit that he’s a murderer. Anyone would murder under the right circumstances. But sexual assault? That’s a line you’d never cross. In fact, most of the men you’ve killed have been guilty of it themselves. Pigs, all of them, who’d stick their dicks anywhere for a moment of pleasure. They deserved what they got. Is this guy one of them?

“Well like I said, that’s what they all say, n-”

He interrupts, muttering jesus fuckin’ christ again, and more curses follow in whispers. “Is there fuckin’ evidence that I did any ‘a that? Any… sexual assault?” he spits the last two words out with particular venom, speaking the term for the first time.

“You’re askin’ if there’s any evidence on the months-old decomposing body parts found half-eaten in the woods?” You poke the freckle on his thigh he’s been seemingly obsessed with. “Surprisingly, no, there was not any evidence of sexual assault found.”

“Well then, there ya go,” he grunts out, as if that settles it. He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. You can’t tell if it’s from shame, discomfort, or disgust. He’s doing a good job pretending it’s disgust. Is he pretending?

You try to ask another question but he is done talking. He won’t look up from his lap now. You even hold up the cell phone again but he doesn’t flinch. He knows by now you’re not going to dial the police. He’s shut down. So you get up and pull your chair away, disappearing behind him for a moment.

When you come back in front of him you sit on his lap, facing him, straddling his legs with yours. He looks up at you with cautious eyes and opens his mouth to say something - but say what you’re not sure. When he feels the sharp poke just under his ribs he stops short. He looks down and sees the 5” knife you have pressed into the soft spot where his sternum ends.

“I guess it’s time then, honey,” you hum. The hand not holding the knife traces the side of his face. He looks almost sad for one singular moment before his eyes turn hard and all the muscles in his face pull tight.

“If ya expect me to beg, you’re wastin’ yer time.” His pupils are blown wide. “Just do it.”

“How about you stop bein’ so bossy on our first date?” You lean in and kiss him on the nose, then the right cheek, then the left cheek. “Well….. Our last date,” and you kiss him on the mouth.

You press your lips hard into his and wait. When he doesn’t relent you take your free hand and squeeze his cheeks, hard, forcing his mouth open. Risking him biting your tongue, you push it into his mouth. Your gamble pays off when he doesn’t bite but instead pushes his tongue back and forth along the length of yours.

You wrap your free arm around his shoulders, bracing yourself and grinding your body down into his naked lap. You press your chest into his as your hand moves to the back of his head and fists in his wild curls. You continue kissing him, tongues wrapping around each other, lips moving sloppily across each other’s mouths.

You move your wet kisses down his jaw, mouthing at the patches in his graying, scruffy beard. You grab a handful of his hair and squeeze your fist, tugging gently at the roots. He grits his teeth and groans, attempting to buck his hips up.

Of course he can’t move against the restraints, but you grind down again, and you can finally feel that he’s gotten hard through the baggy jeans you’re still wearing. You let a low chuckle slip out.

“I thought killin’ didn’t get you hard,” you smile against his mouth.

“Who am I killin’?” he mutters, still simmering with anger at the topic.

Oh yeah, you giggle, your breath ghosting across his neck. “I guess I’m the one who it’s gettin’ hard,” you whisper.

You can’t help it. The anticipation of the kill is thrumming through your veins. It’s always like this, the energy, the electricity. Killing makes you feel more alive. You usually aren’t making out with them though. Never, in fact. This time feels different. You’re not sure why.

You lick a stripe up his neck, rolling your hips over his hardened length, and now he bites, nipping gently at your jaw. You squirm and the knife pokes harder into his abdomen. He inhales a sharp breath through his nose at the contact. You silence any additional protest by kissing him hard on the mouth again.

You pull back, face flushed and panting. He is looking at you with wild eyes and puffy lips, his hair pulled at strange angles from your hands running through it. Do you want to fuck this guy? You just brought him here to kill him but now you think you want to fuck him. This is a morally gray area. He’s bound to a chair and you have a knife at his ribs. Can he consent?

“Why’d ya stop?” he huffs out, bringing your attention back to him. “Are we doin’ this or what?”

“It feels kinda fucked up,” you say meekly, the first time he’s seeing any hesitation from you. You look down, twirling the knife against the rope crossing his chest. “It’s not gonna change my mind ‘bout what happens here ya know.”

“I didn’t say it would,” he says quietly, and you look back into his eyes. His eyes are dark, like fresh brewed coffee. They’d be kinda nice if they weren’t about to be on a dead guy.

“You…. you want this?”

“Why not?” he immediately answers.

“Because I’m gonna kill you after,” and even though you’re sure he doesn’t need the reminder, you poke him lightly in the ribs with the knife again, leaving a little red dot from the tip. He doesn’t react this time. He just lets a small smile ghost across his face and his eyes soften as they land on yours.

“What a way to go.”

It’s all you need to hear. You get up and uncinch the belt that is the only thing holding his pants up around your waist. As soon as it’s loosened, the pants fall to the floor, the belt buckle tinkling as it hits the concrete. You’re not wearing any underwear but the view of your cunt is obstructed by the long flannel shirt draped over you.

You take the knife and stick it in the edge of the shirt about breast-high, just above where you have the first button done up. You slowly drag the knife down the placket, cutting each button off easily with the very sharp blade. The buttons clatter to the floor one by one and when you’ve reached the last one, the shirt opens up a bit.

It’s just enough to see the valley between your breasts, a line of your soft stomach, the patch of hair on your mound, and your pink folds peeking out between your legs. You watch him looking you up and down, devouring the sight of you. His brown eyes now black with hunger. Now you can finally take the time to admire his body.

Yes you had stripped him naked and then tied him to the chair. The whole process had taken nearly thirty minutes. Your hands had been all over him, this grown man you had to maneuver while he was unconscious. But that wasn’t about sex. That was just a body. And you’ve had your hands on plenty of bodies. It’s not sexual.

But now…. now you can really admire him. He has a long and muscular neck, a broad chest, and freckle-dotted shoulders with strong muscles that continue down his thick arms. He isn’t very hairy but he does have soft arm hair, a little chest hair, and a trail of hair that starts beneath his belly button and continues down to a large patch around his cock.

His cock. Now you can appreciate what you were feeling on his lap. Why does it look so good? Cocks shouldn’t look this good. It’s fully hard, leaking precum and leaning against his stomach, his balls pulled tight at the bottom. You’re surprised to notice his pubic hair isn’t growing wild, it looks as if it was trimmed but has grown out a bit. His cock is both a little larger and a little thicker than what you know to be average. It’s not the biggest you’ve ever seen but that’s alright. In this context you aren’t looking for something that’s going to destroy you. You need to be able to walk later, you’ll have a body to dispose of.

You look back at his face and his eyes are meeting yours. You wonder if he can see the same hunger in your eyes that you saw in his. He’s smiling again but this time it’s not the same cocky grin as before, this one is genuine and filled with excitement. Your heart is pounding. You feel intoxicated. Is this the thrill of the kill or the sex?

Double ropes make an X across his chest, fastening his torso tight to the back of the chair. His arms and wrists are also bound to the back of the chair, causing his arms to be extended stiff at his sides, hands dangling towards the ground. Another X of the double rope crosses his thighs, attaching him to the seat of the chair, and his ankles are tied to the chair’s front legs.

You consider for one brief moment if untying any part of him would increase your enjoyment but quickly decide that’s not a good idea. Even if you might want his hands on your body, if you find them on your throat, it could all get very messy very quickly.

You give your shoulders a slight shrug and his flannel begins to fall off your shoulders, brushing down your arms as it falls to the ground. Now you stand before him completely bare. You don’t miss the fuuuck he silently mouths. Jesus christ what is this guy doing to you? You swear you just felt your clit twitch.

It is now obvious more than ever the effect he’s having on you, as your unobstructed cunt is so wet that the cool air hitting your thighs makes you realize you are a fucking sopping mess down there. Not wanting to wait any longer, you straddle his thighs again. This time you don’t put your legs on either side but rather rest your legs on top of his. Your feet rest inside of his thighs right under his balls and your ankles and shins lay on top of his thighs. This position is you going give you the best leverage to raise and lower yourself, since you know he can’t help with driving his cock into you.

You can see his arms straining against the ropes. By now he should have learned that they’re too tight for him to move but you think this might just be out of habit. He wants to touch your body, you can tell by the way he moves his head forward - the only thing he can freely move forward - and laps his tongue anywhere he can reach.

You grab his face with one hand and crash your mouth onto his, a mess of teeth and lips and tongues. With your other hand, which is still holding the knife, you carefully use two fingers to tilt his cockhead directly under you and you slowly sink down on it.

You both let out wanton moans into each other’s mouths at the sensation. You continue to press down until he’s seated all the way inside you, and then you pause to let your body adjust. He feels bigger than he looked. Maybe it’s been a while since you’ve been with anyone but this feels borderline painful. You don’t move up and down but rock forward and backwards ever so slightly, giving yourself some more time. He groans a little bit, maybe impatient but you don’t care, and you just smile against his mouth.

You feel your own wetness dripping out of you, down around him, and you feel like you’re ready to go. Pulling your face back from his, you look in each other’s eyes, almost tenderly. You put both hands on top of his shoulders, careful to have a good grip on the knife but not have it too close to his skin. You don’t want to be the one to do anything prematurely in this situation.

You start slowly at first, ignoring the quiet groans coming from him. He’s not whining but he doesn’t sound or look pleased with the pace you’ve set if the pained look on his face is any indication. You continue moving but grab his face to ask you good? The pained look immediately disappears from his face as his eyes snap open. He grunts and mutters a quiet it’s been awhile before he closes his eyes again, trying to focus.

“Don’t you end this early on me,” you warn. It’s a little funny to you when you realize that his punishment for doing that would be death. It shouldn’t be funny but it is. Probably because you’re fucked in the head. He barely reacts and just mutters I won’t between clenched teeth.

Your pace starts to pick up and you alternate between quite literally bouncing up and down on his cock, and grinding forwards and backwards on it. Each time you switch movements he lets out a strangled groan, clenching his eyes tighter. You can feel your orgasm start to build as a little ball of energy deep in your torso.

You picture what it would be like if he could put his hands on you. You take your own hands off his shoulders and run them up and down your thighs, careful to not let the blade hit either of your bodies. You run them across your stomach and up your ribcage, grabbing your breasts, the cold blade of the knife pressed against one of them. You cry out at the sensation and notice he has opened his eyes now and is watching you intently.

You throw your head back, squeezing your breasts, and bring two fingers to pinch each nipple until they’re over-sensitive and stinging. You look back down and watch his face, inches from your breasts, mesmerized. Without warning you shove one of them right into his mouth and he greedily accepts it, tonguing and biting your nipple.

You continue to move on his lap, driving his cock in and out, up and down, filling you up, hitting all the right spots inside of you. Your bodies are sliding against each other, lubricated by the sheen of sweat covering them. The sounds of your skin slapping echoes off the walls. The slurping noises of his mouth are turning you on even more. You can feel your orgasm now just below the surface. You know you’re close.

“I’m gonna come honey,” you moan. Jesus fuckin’ christ you hear him grunt beneath you, mouth still full of your breast.

You push yourself closer to him, pressed up against his chest, his mouth popping off your nipple. You wrap both arms around his neck and pull him tight, rutting hard and deep on his lap. It’s just there, so close. Then he latches his mouth onto your neck just below your jaw, and he sucks.

A white-hot release immediately hits your body, spreading from the core out. It hits you so hard that you actually scream. Your movements stutter and slow as you work through your orgasm, feeling your pussy contracting on his cock.

Seconds later you hear him against your neck, a long and drawn-out moan, as you feel him releasing repeatedly inside of you. You continue gentle rocking motions against him until you feel his cock still. His mouth is still against your neck, breathing heavy breaths in between curses of jesus fuckin’ christ, and holy shit.

You push yourself up off him using the leverage from your shins on his thighs just enough for him to slip out of you, your combined release dripping out onto his lap. You lay your head down on one of his shoulders, gently kissing his neck. At the other shoulder, your arm rests with the knife dragging up and down along where his carotid artery lies.

You sit like that for a while, both of you catching your breaths, getting your bearings back. You are vaguely aware of the mess on his lap you’ll have to clean up later. It’ll have to wait. You think that orgasm made you dizzy. You’re pretty sure your legs will be jell-o for a bit. You haven’t felt like this in a long time. Fucked out and cockdrunk.

He is the first to speak.

“Can I ask you a question?” he says tentatively, “before ya…. ya know.”

“You have a question for me?” you scoff, “I’m flattered,” which is true, even considering what you’ve just done.

“Were ya serious about doin’ this before? The killin’ part?”

“Well yeah, what makes ya think I wasn’t serious?” you lift your head to look him in the eyes just in time to see him roll his.

“Probably the part where ya pretended to be Dexter-” he starts.

“Oh my god I can’t wait till you stop breathin’ so I don’t have to hear about that again. I was just trying to- ya know what? Nevermind,” and you push the blade forward into his neck a little. It’s hard enough to pierce the skin. It draws a couple drops of blood but you’re mostly just teasing him, since you have no desire to clean five liters of blood off the floor of this rented garage. But you can’t help the thrill that shoots into your stomach at the way he clenches in fear.

His body relaxes after a few seconds when he realizes you haven’t pushed the knife in any further. He had clenched his eyes shut, not letting you see the panic in them. Now they flutter open and meet yours, barely able to focus, your faces are so close together.

“My question was somethin’ else,” he mutters, barely audible over the sound of your pounding heartbeat whooshing in your ears. You say nothing, just continue to stare at him wide-eyed, unblinking. “My question was… why. Why do ya do it?”

You are taken aback. Literally and figuratively. You physically pull back from him, resting on your heels back where his knees are. Your hands remain on his shoulders, one still clutching the knife against his neck. Someone is looking for the answer, you think to yourself. It’s almost sweet that he thinks you have it.

“I do it for the same reason you do it.” You scan his face, searching for that smug smile, waiting for deception to play across it, for something. For anything. It doesn’t come. He genuinely doesn’t know. “I do it because it fucking feels good, honey.”

He just keeps your gaze, nodding his head slowly as he takes in your answer. He doesn’t ask anything else or add to your answer. He’s just considering it. You get up off his lap and fold up the knife in your hand, dropping it on the floor on top of the discarded flannel. You walk behind him again and grab the pre-filled syringe you set up. This is the way you like to do things. Clean. Efficient. No stains or smells to deal with later.

You walk up behind him, standing so you are pressed to the back of the chair, his head resting against your bare stomach. You put your hands down on top of his shoulders, the syringe in your dominant hand tapping against his skin. He looks down at it and then tilts his head back to look up at you.

“Why me?” he asks. Not whiny, like most people are. Just a curiosity. Why him? Why did you pick him? Out of everyone in the world, why is it him? It’s almost romantic.

“I thought it’d be fun. I mean, it’s always fun. But I thought it’d be more fun than usual, huntin’ someone like me. Well, almost like me. I’m better at it,” and you tap the syringe against his clavicle a few times, “obviously.”

“Well you weren’t exactly playin’ fair, were ya sweetheart?” he says in an accusing tone.

“How do ya mean?” you ask, your eyes going wide, insulted by the implication. “You knew people would be lookin’ around and askin’ questions, maybe even the police.”

“Yeahhh,” he concedes, “but the police‘re idiots.” He keeps his eyes on you, watching you nod your head in agreement. “I didn’t think I was up against someone like you.” He pauses and then flashes you a cocky grin. “Someone smart.”

“Oh stop, now you’re just tryin’ to flatter me,” and you swat the syringe on his shoulder.

“I’m not,” he says, still smiling.

“Kinda seems like you are, ya ol’ flirt.” and you wink down at him.

“No, what I’m tryin’ ta say is…” and he finally looks away, staring straight ahead before he delivers the next sentence. “I bet you couldn’t do it again.”

“Do what again?” You continue to look down at him but he’s still looking straight forward, not meeting your eyes.

“Catch me.”

Now you’re annoyed. “Honey it really wasn’t that fuckin’ hard the first time. I highly doubt th-”

“But,” he interrupts, “I bet you couldn’t do it again.” His cocky smile is back, head thrown back staring up at you again. “You couldn’t do it now that I know you’re lookin’ fer me.

You push off his shoulders and walk around the front of him. Bending over, you pull his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans laid on the floor. You’re gonna wipe that smug grin off his face once and for all. “Well Joel Miller,” and you read off his home address in Texas, “I really do think I could find you again.”

“Then do it.” His smile is gone. His face is expressionless. He’s just staring at you. “Find me again,” he taunts.

You drop the wallet back to the ground and sit down on his lap, almost considering what he’s saying. You run your hand on the side of his stupid smug little face, syringe still in the other hand. You lean your face to his and gently pepper his face with kisses.

“Honey, I don’t want you sufferin’,” you coo between smooches. “Yer gonna miss me too much if I let you go.”

“How long you think I’d have to suffer?” he counters, “Hmm? How long you think it’d take you?”

“It took me less than a week this time honey. So probably not long,” you continue the kisses down his neck.

“Then come find me,” he growls, stilling your motions. “End my sufferin’.”

You pull back from him. Fuck. The thought of it made you undeniably excited. You were practically vibrating with anticipation and you weren’t even thinking about killing him anymore. This was about a chase. An honest-to-god chase with someone that might be something close to a challenge.

He had a point. You didn’t want to admit that to him, but he didn’t know you were looking for him. He had no idea there was someone like him in the area, whereas you had begun to suspect last summer, and had spent the last year putting pieces together and planning your trip this way.

It did take you less than a week of moving around to different areas of the state land with your van, finding different places to camp, until you ran into him and his filthy little cabin. But you had spent much longer than that reviewing his victims, studying his patterns, and getting yourself into his mindset as best you could.

He has confirmed your suspicions that he moved on after the summer to hunt somewhere else. But where else? Where he lives in Texas? Another off-the-grid cabin? It could be anywhere. It doesn’t matter. You’ll figure it out.

The phone you’ve been threatening him to dial 9-1-1 with is actually his phone. You'd used his fingerprint to gain access while he was out cold and then changed the passcode to something that only you know. You can gather a lot of information on him from his cellphone. That will help and he doesn’t even yet realize you have it.

You already have an upper hand on his little proposition. You’re already outsmarting him.

You press your lips to his one last time and stick the syringe’s small needle into his neck, pressing the plunger halfway down. With open eyes kissing him you see his eyes go wide and then shut. His entire body goes limp under yours, including his lips. His plush lips. You feel his heart still beating strong under your hand so you take the time to indulge, holding his head up and stealing a few more kisses before you have to start cleaning up.

*****

Joel wakes a while later, how long he’s not sure, but the room he’s in looks very different. The van is gone, as is the folding table covered in trophies and photos of his victims, as are you. In fact, very few things remain in the room.

His clothes are folded in a stack on the floor in front of him. Next to them are his wallet and truck keys. Finally, there is a folded note stuck to his leg. It’s pinned to him with your five inch pocket knife having been driven into his thigh.

The restraints around his wrists have been cut so that he can reach forward to take the knife out of his leg. When he does, the note drifts to the floor a few feet away. He ignores the searing pain and blood now streaming from the wound on his leg and manages to work himself free of the rest of the ropes.

He moves to stand up out of the chair and immediately his legs give out, collapsing him unceremoniously onto the floor. He is free of the chair for the first time in - judging by the physical state of him - what has probably been half a day. With shaky hands he reaches out and picks up the paper where it had fallen, unfolding it.

In pretty, looping handwriting it reads: ‘Catch ya later! xoxo’

*****

READ THE NEXT PART HERE (THE CHASE - PART 1)

#joel miller x reader #SerialKiller!Joel x F!Reader #joel miller smut #Serial Killer Joel Miller #joel miller #patti7dc #pedro pascal characters #noxturnalpascal

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letstalkaboutshtufff · 6 months

Text

In another life pt 2

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader

Summary: A visit to Nanami and trip down memory lane

Warnings: Language and suggestive themes but only a bit lol

Part 3

****************************************************

A/N: was so overwhelmed by the amount of love I received for part one!! Thank you all so much for the support😭🩵

“This is definitely a first” Nanamis gaze travelled up and down your body.

You shuffled uncomfortably from your place on the couch. Gojo stood leaning on the wall behind you.

“Yeah I’ve been hearing that a lot today..” you sighed.

“Hmm, well from what I know. This curse has been known to travel through dimensions, which is why he’s been so hard to catch in the past. He disappeared several years ago after somehow escaping from a seal. Looks like he ended up in your universe.”

“That makes sense, it was only a couple years ago he appeared and Satoru subdued him. A couple months ago he told me he found some weird residual energy on the seal but otherwise everything was ok… I guess the theory of the spy was correct but…” you brought a hand to your chin.

“Go on” he encouraged.

“We placed three seals on them. There’s no way an amateur broke through them… I wonder if he has any clue on who it could be...”

BZZT BZZT BZZT

“Another call?” Gojo tilted his head forward.

You picked up the phone and read “Weird Bangs” well speak of the devil!

“Nope just a text.”

-Hey you ok? Satoru just told me what happened. Don’t worry, we’re investigating as we speak. We’ll have you home in no time.

You smiled warmly and replied,

-Thanks Sugu, I have complete faith in you two. And don’t worry I’m ok.

“Anything important?”

“Not really, Sugu was just checking in. By the way, is he on a mission or something? I haven’t sensed your version of him yet. Unless you don’t have a version of him which would be honestly so weird since I swear you two are like your own couple..”

Little did you know the room had gone from warm to freezing cold.

“What did you just say…”

“Huh?” You tensed seeing the mood was a bit off now.

“Wait…don’t tell me he’s…dead?” Instant dread washed over you.

“No..he’s very much alive…” (excuse me while I change the timeline a little)

“Then what’s-“ you tilted your head.

“Nanami, what can you tell us about the curse transporting other people?”

You blinked at his sudden change in topic.

“Honestly nothing.” Your shoulders slumped.

“Really?”

“Yes but I promise I’ll do everything in my power to ensure you get home safely”.

“Thanks Nanami…” you tried not to feel to sad, after all you had so many people working hard to figure it out.

“Well it’s getting late, why don’t we continue this tommorow, Nanami you’ll reach out if you find anything yeah?”

He nodded, “I’ll dig into some of the old archives, and let you know what I find.”

“Thank you Nanami” you smiled and followed gojo out of the room.

“So what now?” The sun had set and you realized that for the first time in years you were not going to sleep in your own bed, cuddled next to your husband.

“Well… I could take you to one of the spare dorms here but considering the curse is still out there I think it’s best if you stick with me”

“So back to your place?” Haha that takes you back.

“That ok with you?”

“Mhmm” not like I’m used to anything else but being with you…

“Ok then, hang on” he touched your shoulder and suddenly you were transported to a place that smelled like fresh linen and his cologne.

“Oh wow this takes me back” you flicked on the light and took in the old place.

Gojo raised a brow that you seemed to know your way around.

“I take it you’ve been here before?”

You nodded fondly while taking in the place once again, “yeah, we spent so much time here back while we were dating…I lived in a really crappy apartment that you had to bend down in.” You laugh at the memory.

You turn to look out the floorlength window and promptly scream.

“AHH is that me!?!? Have I looked like this all day!?!” You could barely see your skin it was covered in dirt and grime from the previous fight and your hair was basically inviting birds to make it their home.

“I need to shower…” ah crap I didn’t think to stop and get clothes.

“I’ll find you some clothes… the shower is over the-“ but you were already beelining towards the bathroom eagerly to wash the filth off of you.

“Right you already know… so weird” he crossed his arms.

The second the steaming water hit your body you sighed in relief. It took a good 15 minutes for the water to run clear.

Using his body wash sure took you back to the days you’d sleep over. Those days were some of the best of your life. Watching movies late into the night, eating junk food, making out, falling asleep tangled together…

You shut your eyes before the tears could come.

No, none of that, you had the best and strongest people on the case. You’d be home soon, so let’s think of this as a weird mini vacation.

After your shower you dried yourself off and peeked into the bedroom where the door connected to. Sure enough you found a set of his pjs on the bed.

His shirt engulfed you, looking more like a dress. You thought for a moment to forgo the pants but realized you probably shouldn’t go pantless and underwearless around new Gojo.

Once you were decent you stepped outside into the main living space.

A delicious aroma immediately invaded your senses.

Wait… no fricken way!?

“You cook!?!?”

“Huh?” Gojo paused to look back over his shoulder. “Of course I cook… does your Gojo not?”

“He- he tried once but burnt everything… and anyway I’m home way more so I usually do the cooking..”

“Well I hope you like seafood, I haven’t gone shopping yet so there wasn’t really many options.”

He turned back to the stove to continue stirring.

You sat on one of the counter barstools and watched him in awe.

He even has the towel thrown over his shoulder and everything...

“So tell me about other Gojo. How did you guys meet?”

“Well… actually it’s kind of embarrassing…”

“Oh well now I have to know”

“Well I was jogging by this old elementary school and this curse popped out. It was so cute tho it looked like a super fluffy puppy. And then suddenly you popped in, ready to blast it to smithereens when I jumped in front and defended it….” He paused his stirring and looked over at you again.

“Yeah I know.. it was crazy but the curse really wasn’t that bad. So anyway I picked it up and started running away from you…”

“Pfft seriously?”

“Yeah… you should’ve seen your face haha. I made it about 10 steps before you warped in front of me”

*Flashback*

“Uh listen lady, that thing your holding is very dangerous so it’s best if you-“

“No way!”

“Huh?”

“No way, he’s just a little baby, he hasn’t hurt anyone!” You hugged the curse tight to your body and for some reason the curse seemed… relaxed?

“Lady… it’s a curse.. we can’t exactly just leave it to roam free..”

“Well then….”you thought for a moment..

“I’ll keep it!”

“You’ll keep it…” he repeated to himself in disbelief

“Mhm hm” you nodded.

“Uh…” he watched you snuggle the curse closer and the curse for whatever bizarre reason seemed content.

“It hasn’t hurt anyone has it?”

“Not that I’m aware of..”

“Then it’s settled! I’m keeping him.”

“Uh…”

“Don’t worry, I have some skill in exorcizing curses if anything goes wrong but it won’t will it little cutie?” You rubbed under its chin and it started to purr.

“Ok so you’re serious…uh well here’s my number… in case he decides to turn murdery and you can’t handle him”

You smile and hand him your phone, when he hands it back you glance down and let out a little gasp.

He smirked, you must’ve realized who he was now.

“You have the same screensaver as me! I love that show!!”

“Haha well it is a good show, even if the heroine sucks.”

“What- what did you just say?! She’s the best one!”

“No way, if you ask me the best friend should be in the spotlight.”

“That snobby bitch? No way” you made a face.

“Snobby? I see it as confidence.”

“You must’ve gotten knocked in the head too many times by a curse..”

“Well it doesn’t really matter, I think she’s gonna take that job in the next episode.”

“Wait you think so? As much as I hate her, she makes the story interesting.”

“Yeah I-“ BZZZT BZZZT BZZZT

“Ah sorry hold on”

You watched him turn and take the call. Looking at him now, even without seeing his eyes you could tell he was good looking.

“Sorry, duty calls. Make sure to call me if…that thing suddenly decides to eat you ok?”

“I will, thanks”

He whooshed away and you looked down at your phone.

Satoru Gojo….

Oh my god

No fucking way…

He had the same name as your favorite book character! What a small world…

“Alright cutie, let’s get you home. I wonder what you eat?”

*End flashback*

“Don’t tell me you still have that thing?”

“That thing has a name and his name is cutie. And to this day he hasn’t hurt a fly! Well actually that’s a lie because he does eat all the bugs around the house.. but other than that he’s harmless. He does chew the furniture though..” awe I hope he’s ok..

“You’re a little strange you know that?”

“You’re one to talk..”

“Hey, you shouldn’t insult the hand that feeds you.”

“You’re right sorry chef” you bowed jokingly then went to grab plates to set the table.

“Oh I hope you don’t mind me touching stuff.” You retracted your hand afraid he might get upset.

“Be my guest.” He waved nonchalantly.

Ten minutes later you were sat across each other.

“Oh lemme grab some drinks” he stood up and disappeared into the kitchen again.

You nodded and began plating your dish and his. His having three times the portion like usual.

Gojo came back and sat down with his mouth slightly open.

You realized your mistake and felt heat rise to your cheeks. “S-sorry it- I did that out of habit. Didn’t mean to make you feel weird..”

“It’s fine it’ll just take some getting used to is all…” he smirked and dug in.

“Thank you for the meal.” You twirled your fork around the shrimp and pasta and took a bite.

Oh hell no

“Something wrong?”

“Satoru this is amazing… like really really amazing”

“Glad you like it”

“No but seriously this is so good…Why can’t my version do this??”

You took another bite and swooned, maybe you’d leave your version for this one…

BZZT BZZT BZZT

“Oh it’s you! Well other you..”

“Satoru?”

“Hey babe you doing alright?”

“Yeah, I’m alright… we met with Nanami earlier, he said he’s going to do some more research and let us know if he finds anything..”

“Same here, Suguru and I are tracking the curse down but it’ll take a little bit of time, he’s a slippery one that’s for sure”

“Mm, sorry for putting everyone through this trouble…”

“Don’t worry, I have plenty of ways you can make it up to me later”

“Ah geez I need to stop putting you on speaker..”

“You’re not alone? It’s pretty late..”

“Yeah well other you thought it would be best to keep me close for safety reasons. I’m here at the old penthouse actually.”

“….”

“Toru?”

“You’re with other me?”

You blinked. “Uh yes?“

“Hey other me!”

You tilt the phone closer to this Gojo so he can hear better.

“Uh yes?”

“I know it’s tempting but no canoodling my girl alright?”

“S-satoru!”

“Not even a little touch, I mean it.”

“Satoru what are you talking about?! I just met the guy!”

“And? Do you remember how I was back then?”

“Well...” yeah a manwhore..

“Oh yeah and another word of advice, no girls over to the place. She gets suuuuuuper jealous, one time she even told our pet to attack and-“

“I did not! That was-!-you know that was an accident!”

“Mhmm sure”

“You know cutie feeds off my feelings, I didn’t tell him to bite her arm!”

“Of course sweetheart of course..”

“You- what about that time you hijacked my date!”

“That was purely coincidental, I was in the area.”

“Sure you were…”

“Anywhoooooo, did you take your meds?”

“Y-yeah”

“Liar”

“Hey make sure she gets those pills, she’ll faint without them and I don’t need her falling into anyone else’s arms”

“S-satoru good night already, I’ll talk to you later…”

“Alright sorry, you know I worry. Night baby, don’t feel too lonely without me”

*click*

“Ugh annoying jerk” you words didn’t match your soft tone.

Gojo leaned back in his chair and scanned your form.

Did he? Did a version of him really fall in love and settle down. You were certainly beautiful but he’d been with a lot of beautiful women.. did your strength draw his attention? He supposed he hasn’t seen you fight yet, maybe he would fix that soon..

“Oh uh sorry you had to hear all that again, I hope it’s not too weird”

“Well I’m not gonna lie and say it’s normal but..”

You smiled and brought another forkful to your mouth.

“Thank you for everything, really… you don’t even know me and you’re doing all this..”

“Well hey don’t worry about it, any alter ego/universe me’s wife is a friend of mine”

“Heh thanks” glad to know all Gojos humor are the same across universes.

After dinner you helped clean up and were lounging on the couch while Gojo went to shower.

He wouldn’t mind if you turned on the tv right?

So far this Gojo was 99.8 percent a carbon copy of yours so no he wouldn’t mind.. plus tonight the new episode of “Wishing I was yours” was airing and you couldn’t miss it..

And that’s how Gojo found you 20 minutes later, arms wrapped around your knees cuddling a pillow, tearful eyes glued to the TV screen.

‘No! No you can’t leave me. You can’t give up after everything we’ve been through’

‘Forgive me my love, you’ll have to continue this journey without me…’

‘No! I need you!!’

‘I’m only going to put you in danger… it has to be this way… I’m sorry’

‘Noooooooooooooooo!’

How can she watch this crap…

Gojo made his presence known and stepped in front of the couch.

“Oh hey, I-i hope it was ok that I- ah no don’t go!!” Your focus was quickly redirected back to the gripping scene. You groaned when the credits rolled.

“Dammit you were right about the ending…now I have to do that thing… ugh” you mumbled into the pillow.

Gojo couldn’t help but be curious what that thing was but stayed quiet.

“Don’t tell me that I actually watch this kind of stuff?”

He sat on the other end of the couch watching as you paused the tv and turned towards him.

“Well not at first but we worked out a deal, every week we watch one of my picks and one of your picks… but ugh you always choose the scariest stuff…”

“Better than unrealistic lovey dovey crap…”

“Unrealistic?? Says the one who spouts the most corniest lines 24/7”

The title screen for another episode started playing and he swiftly grabbed the remote.

“Allow me to show you what true cinema is.”

Uh oh, you had a bad feeling about this..

1 hour later

“Ah no way no way no way” Gojo smirked watching how you hid behind a pillow shaking like a leaf.

“Oh come on, it’s not even the scary part yet…”

“Liar! Ew ew ew I accidentally looked again”

“Human snake vs Octogator is a masterpiece , you’re insulting one of the greatest films of all time!”

“You just chose this because you knew it would scare me!”

“Lady I barely know you, is that something I would do?” He smiled, glowing eyes peeking behind his glasses.

“Yes, that is exactly what you would do..”

Well you sure did seem to know him he was realizing more and more…

After the movie you were basically half asleep so Gojo decided to call it a night.

Sleepily you rose up and followed after Gojo to the hallway. But instead of turning right to the guest room you automatically turned left to his room and bumped into his back.

“Huh”

You froze, eyes shooting up to his.

“A-ah s-sorry!” Embarrassed you darted to the guest room and shut the door.

BZZT BZZT BZZT

Hm?

*NEW MESSAGE*

-Since you’re all alone, use this to tide your appetite over xoxo

*image loading*

“Ah-!”

The heat rose to your cheeks immediately.

(I’ll let you imagine what kind of picture he sent lol)

-Don’t send anything back tho ok? Don’t want the creep next door spying on you and catching a glimpse of my pretty girl~”

-he’s in another room obviously..

-wait he wouldn’t look through the walls with his eyes would he??

-would- did you ever do that??

-ah gotta go baby, the line is bad, nighty night!

-We’re texting idiot, what line?! And answer the question!!

-xoxo 💋

Ugh jerk… you threw the phone on the bed then slowly got in the unfamiliar bed.

You hated sleeping alone… even when he was out on overnight missions you were surrounded by his scent, his clothes, his everything…

You grabbed a pillow and snuggled it for comfort.

“I miss you idiot…”

Part 3

***************************************************

Aaaaaaand that’s chapter 2! What did you guys think about Suguru’s mention hehe. The angst boat is coming y’all, but first came a little fluff before the storm. Please lemme know what you thought! Until next time!

@gojosatorulover7 @goaway-plzz @goldenglow149 @taakt17 @kneesheee @yumii-34 @ritsatoru @generalstephkenobi @author20 @bitchycloudstrawberry @hojoslutoru

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