#What we have here is some role reversals

[kidsomeday]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Trigun Stampede (Anime 2023), Trigun (Anime & Manga 1995-2008) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Vash the Stampede/Nicholas D. Wolfwood Characters: Nicholas D. Wolfwood, Vash the Stampede (Trigun) Additional Tags: Vashwood Week (Trigun), Alternate Universe - Royalty, Eye of Michael (Trigun), Scars, Semi Graphic Depictions of Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Possessive Vash the Stampede, Sometime hurt can be it's own comfort though amiright, What if Vash Had the Catholic Guilt This Time, And Wolfwood Cried During Sex, what then, Top Vash the Stampede (Trigun), Bottom Nicholas D. Wolfwood, Vash Is A Bitey Lad, Not A Soulmark But Maybe Using Your Soul To Mark Someone, Sex Magic, Things Get Weird But Also Pretty Hot, Sometimes Love Means Leaving Visible Scars Series: Part 3 of Vashwood Week Summary:

Years ago Vash ran away from his brother and their kingdom to live a quiet life where ever he could find it.

Now it’s time to come home, and the one person he regrets leaving behind the most is the one that’s been sent to collect him.

To say that Vash is having a rough time of things is putting it mildly. Chapter Two now added! Fic is complete! This weird little monster put me a day behind on Vashwood week but it is unrepentant and so shall I be. Just means extra work for today. Mostly finished it yesterday but it needed some polish (probably still does) so it didn’t get posted until now. I hope you enjoy!

[fearforthestorm]

oh my goddd I'm having Feelings over viking and tan rn. don't talk to me. theyyyyy.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Controversial opinion among Dune book fans maybe, but I loved the changes they made to Chani's character. Making her a fedaykin who is already an experienced fighter before Paul arrives was a brilliant choice. Dune Part Two is a war movie, and this puts her at the center of the action, side by side with Paul, and gives her a much more active role than she has in the book.

We got a hint of where things were going in the beginning of Dune Part One. The first thing we ever know about movie Chani is that she's a fighter. She serves as a voice for the Fremen, telling us the story of their struggle from her point of view. I wrote here about the difference this change makes compared to other adaptations of Dune, what a perspective shift it is to have the world of Arrakis introduced not by an outsider, describing it as a dangerous but valuable colonial prize, but by one of its native inhabitants, who tells us before all else that it's beautiful, her home that she's fighting to liberate. I am so, so glad that the second movie followed up on this characterization.

I never found Chani and Paul's love story in the book particularly convincing, because why would this woman, who already has a prominent and respected place in Fremen society, even give the time of day to her deposed would-be colonizer, let alone fall in love and have children with him? Without a compelling reason for Chani to love Paul, she ends up feeling like a prize to be won, and "indigenous culture personified as a woman to be wooed (or conquered) by the colonizing man" is a trope we've seen and don't need to repeat.

But as soon as you tell me it's a barricade romance I get it. Cool cool cool, I know exactly what this relationship is now and it makes sense. Movie Chani doesn't respect or even particularly like Paul when she first meets him, and she doesn't think he's the fulfillment of any prophecy. She comes to respect him, and eventually love him, through his actions. He's brave--sometimes recklessly so. He fights well. He's willing to stick his neck out on the front lines with the other Fremen fighters. He can (after a little help) hack surviving in the harsh desert environment. He's not too proud to learn from others. He seems to genuinely want to be her equal in a common political struggle. All these qualities make sense as things she values.

Fighting side by side as equals is just about the only way I can see movie Chani falling for Paul. And it fits perfectly with the film's pattern of reversals that Paul's capacity for violence would initially be one of the things Chani likes about him, only for her to be repelled later when she sees what he becomes.

And as for Paul, well, he's had people deferring to him his entire life. Someone who doesn't take any shit from him is probably refreshing. He seems to like people (Duncan, Gurney) who challenge him and engage in a little friendly teasing--and aren't afraid to go a few rounds in the sparring ring.

It's easy to speedrun a romance when you're spending all your time together in mortal danger fighting for a shared political cause. Especially if you then start winning in a war your people have been fighting for decades. Are you kidding me? That is the perfect environment for intense battle camaraderie to turn into romantic love, and lust.

It makes sense that this version of Chani never believes Paul is any kind of messiah. Of course a character like movie Chani wouldn't believe in or trust some outside savior to liberate them. She's been working to liberate her own people for years. The more Paul invokes the messianic myth, the more he starts sounding once again like someone who plans to rule over them, and the more uncomfortable Chani becomes. In this way she becomes a foil to Jessica, the two of them representing the choices Paul is pulled between. It's a great way of externalizing the political and philosophical debates that often happen within characters' heads in the book.

And of course this version of Chani would leave Paul at the end of the film. It's not just the personal, emotional betrayal--although that stings. What common cause does she have with someone who just declared himself emperor and is sending her own people off in a war of conquest against others? Given the important role she plays in Dune Messiah, I am super curious to see how they get her back into the story, but girl was so valid for being willing to just gtfo. Given that she has the last shot of the whole movie, I'm sure she'll be back somehow, and I can't wait to see what they do with her character in any future installments.

[badgertracksart]

Portfolio advice, from a lead who hires Concept Artists

(This was originally a twitter thread I wrote before the site self imolated, hense it's strange structure.) I wrote this after a weekend of portfolio reviews - 1. Like a maths exam, please please show your working. I want to see thumbs options, mid options and of course a final design.

2. Arrange your portfolio, I don't want to bounce about between subject matter and pipeline. Your portfolio's narrative should be as strong as your work... 3. Please make worlds that excite the viewer, make them want to go in and explore them, explain to them the interesting parts of the town, or the way the character's hat unfolds. How will this draw the viewer in? 4. As I've said before the majority of your project work is explanatory not mood, make sure your portfolio contains explanatory work. Explained here -

5. A lot of beautiful post apocolyptic paintings, , but 80% of realistic games and film, we just give the environment artists photo ref, they are capable artists in their own right. Different work in stylised where you do need to create rules for how things can be translated. 6. Production art contains call out sheets, material references and flat graphics. This doesn't have to be your final image, but it should support it.

7. Design characters on a swatch(es) of the environment they will be viewed in. Not on white. I make swatch backgrounds from screenshots, it avoids assumptions that damage readability. 8. Reverse of this, put people in your environments, show me the scale.

9. It's not a deal breaker for a review, but if you intend to get a job, please show me your work on a screen larger than a smartphone (print outs probably the cheapest option with the best battery life). 10. Please have your contact details clearly visible, and by that I mean email address, I will not pass your social media contact on, I cannot input your form into my tracking system. EMAIL ADDRESS emblazoned and bake it in, sometimes recruiters do funky stuff to pdfs

11. Your portfolio will never feel done, not to you anyway. You will have learnt from your latest pieces and want to apply it to older work. But we know art is a journey. Send your portfolio anyway. I've been in the industry 10+ years and my portfolio is still not 'finished'. 12. If you are applying to an environment centric Concept Art position then please vary your times of day! Golden hour is cool but show me some happy sunny days, looming overcast days, what about at night? Vary your weather too! Sunny snowy day? Rainy Spring day? Stormy night?

13. If you are applying for a character centric Concept Art role then please ensure your portfolio shows a variety of body types and ethnicities. 14. Designing characters for games? Please show back views and feet (!) Many potfolios contain only front views. This is a problem because:

You haven't shown you are considering the design from all angles.

In many games rear view is the main view.

Stop cropping feet.

15. If you are entry / graduating and looking at Portfolios to compare content and standard of yr own work too, look at hired grad/junior artists as opposed to seniors Seniors and leads often have old or personal work in their portfolio which isnt representative of the day job. 16a. Show clearly the intended use case for your Concept Art. Mention the game type in the description. Are these player character designs for a 3rd person adventure game? Then more back views please. Bonus points for diagetic ways of showing health / equipment / role etc.

16b. Are these designs for an FPS? Then really the player view of the gun needs to sell the player style/ choices, in an FPS your weapons are almost your character. Are these world designs? What's the view distance? For an RTS your shapes need to read from above & a distance. 16c. The lack of clarification means I am judging the design in isolation, which both harms the design (you might be considering the backview of a char as the main adventure character.) Or an NPC, their waist up expressions may be important for conveying exposition and mechanics.

16d. Concept art is not separate from gameplay, great concept art serves the game team before it is a good illustration.

17. Play games. A variety of games. Think about them. IMO to be a good concept artist you need to understand the common language & references used by your peers. Also understand the principles and common language your audience are used to. FPS design rules are v.diff from RTS.

18. There are many skills that are needed in concept art, please show them. For example: Graphic design - logos, liveries, typographic use etc. VFX concepts - Abilities, Ambience, motion concepts. Architectural knowledge - How buildings are built! & more but I'm out of space :O

[flonkertainment]

Something to chew, better for you

I FINISHED THE TAROT ARTWORK SERIES YIPPIE

Here we finally have Barnaby, our trusted Hierophant! Actually, I struggled quite a bit with finding a fitting card for this guy. Until I read that an alternative name for the Hierophant is also "The teacher". My thoughts instantly went to how Barn seems to stick to Wally's side for most of the time and teach him to make social connections! As well as taking a role of a caretaker and teacher for Wally, he also seems to know a little more than your average neighbor since he is often found talking to home for example. Just like the Hierophant who seems to posess an aura of some sort of spiritual power. When the card is reversed, it also points at personal belief, and Barnaby is an individual with a tentendy to strong willpower.

Something that is coming to my mind just as I am writing this: I kept thinking about one of Clown's Artworks, the one where Barnaby is found headless with Wally standing in front of him, seemingly controlling him. When the Hanging Man, Wally's card, and the Hierophant appear together, it indicates some kind of transformation. While the Hierophant turns to tradition, the Hanging Man represents letting go of those beliefs, almost "taking over" the Hierophant...you see where I'm going there, right??

So yeah, making those was a blast! Time for me to actually get them printed out now lol, who wants a tarot reading?

Also I apologize for being less active, I am a busy man with a lot happening in my life, also I will probably expand my choices of what I draw a bit more again, so there might not only be Welcome Home related posts in the future, I hope you guys are still interested to see them though!!

Again, we all know and love my disclaimer: I am not experienced with the usage of tarot cards, so please don't expect me to know more than their basic meaning. Also, if you think that I should've chosen a different card for Barnaby, don't come at me, I just picked what I thought fit best!

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

“Robbie is gone! I’m still here! And I refuse to live in his shadow!”

Rastapopoulos himself may be out of the picture, but his ghost continues to haunt those who were caught in his web.

A collaboration with @aboardthescheherazade using her OC Marlene Katz - an actress Tintin tries to save in Cigars of the Pharaoh!

Five years later and Tintin is baffled to see Hollywood starlet Marlene Katz turn up at his doorstep asking for help. Formerly under the thumb of Cosmos Pictures, Marlene became an unsuspecting witness to Rastapopoulos’ criminal activity and now the mob is after her, seeking to tie up some loose ends. To top things off, she is due to make a public appearance at The Golden Palm, a prestigious film festival. After years of hiding, Marlene is determined to get her acting career back on track, and this film may be her big break.

Tintin is highly suspicious. Chang, on the other hand, is utterly star struck, and after noticing an uncanny resemblance between the two hatches a ridiculous scheme that may finally put an end to this particular problem. It might just work, but Marlene makes the last minute decision to also go undercover, feeling immense guilt over having Tintin and Chang risk their lives for her.

While Tintin is running around in heels and beating up mobsters Haddock is away on a weekend break with Ramo Nash. Before leaving he asked Chang to keep Tintin away from any incidents and to promise not to throw any house parties.

This was my first collab on this blog and I had a lot of fun bouncing ideas off with Vaye. Her blog was one of the first Tintin blogs I followed - definitely check it out, it’s an absolute treasure trove of resources and research! Below are a few notes of stuff we discussed while making this:

- After the Blue Lotus, Marlene breaks away from Rastapopoulos and pulls back from the film industry to lay low, teaching dance classes instead. He keeps trying to come back to her, leaving her exhausted and paranoid. Since Rastapopoulos always considered Marlene to be pretty stupid he never made much of an effort to properly hide his criminal activities from her, but Marlene was able to slowly piece things together...

- This adventure takes place after St. Benezet’s Basement (the boarding school story) and before Call of the Songbird (Tintin Fucks Up and Steals A Whistle). Tintin is still in the grips of trauma from the canon stories. Chang is starting to settle in. Haddock and Nash’s relationship is in full swing, but they are keeping things quiet from everyone else. 

- In some sketchbook comics I did to flesh out ideas there’s hints of Tintin being gay and asexual, his complete lack of interest in Hollywood actresses and his mild irritation of people’s judgements being clouded by crushes! Chang’s attraction to Marlene however, foreshadows his feelings for Tintin later on down the line.

- There’s a role reversal theme going on here. Both Tintin and Marlene are victims of Rastapopoulos but in very different ways. By playing each others’ roles they both can get a clearer picture of how Rastapopoulos hurt people, and therefore a better understanding of their own traumas. Tintin is usually spontaneous and rarely makes himself known, but here he is playing a set character. Marlene as an actress, on the other hand, is used to receiving direction from others, but circumstance pushes her to improvise. I can imagine her using her skills as an actor to get into character as an ace reporter to fake some much needed bravery!

- Marlene’s disguise is literally just stuff she pulls from Tintin’s and Chang’s closets. She’s wearing Tintin’s trenchcoat, dress shirt and suspenders and Chang’s spectator shoes, trousers and scarf!

- Marlene is a very skittish person but will be compelled to do what she believes is the right thing. As Vaye put it, “Marlene’s bravery under fire is that she’s like the one person in a room who’s willing to get a spider outside...” Marlene is also older than Tintin and pretty much views him as a child, even though he’s in his early 20s at this point. She feels incredibly guilty about what Rastapopoulos did to him and the fact he’s risking his life for her. She feels some level of responsibility for him.

This all started because I thought it would be cool for Tintin to beat some guys up in drag

[yeonzzzn]

flawless execution: sim jaeyun

roles reversed au of chilling & killing 🔪 | spotify playlist

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 9.2k

synopsis: when a masked serial killer is on the loose, jake, the head of the journalist department at his college, gets put in charge of the cases along side you as his second. as jake unfolds the mystery, other truths come out.

genre: ghostface!reader, journalist!jake, smut

warnings: swearing, blood + m*rder mentions, unprotected sex, knife play, dom!reader, switch!jake, hair pulling, jake gets cut at some point, tit sucking, lemme know if I missed anything. MINORS DNI!!!

His cell phone rang once…twice…three times before he finally pulled the device from his pocket and answered the call. Before he could form a sentence, the other voice was speaking. 

“Turn on the campus news right now. More bodies were found.” 

Jake quickly turned from where he was standing and jumped over his couch, fumbling with the remote. 

“The masked killer ghost face has killed college students __ and __ and were found roughly an hour ago by the fountain on campus grounds—“ 

Jake didn’t finish listening before gathering his things and burst out his apartment door, running as quickly as possible to campus. 

A crowd was already forming around the famous fountain, caution tape, and police pushing back the students. Jake pushed his way through the crowd, holding up his campus journal ID to the policeman, “Let me through.” 

The officer side-eyed his ID and then Jake, opening his mouth to speak but Jake wasn’t having any of it, “Let. Me. Through.” 

“He’s with me,” you yelled at the officer from where you stood by the fountain, “Let him in.” 

The officer pulled up the tape with a groan, finally letting Jake through. 

He jogged over to your side, glaring back at the asshole officer, “How did you get here before me?”

You crossed your arms, looking at the fountain, “I’m just that good. You’re more worried about how I got here first when we have a job?” you giggled, giving him a wink. 

Jake chuckled at you. He loved that he had you as his partner. You were funny and a super genius at everything you do. Jake looked at the fountain as well, examining the two bodies that were propped on the fountain. They were players on the hockey team. 

Jake pulled his notepad and pen from his back pocket, taking note of who these guys were and the state of their bodies. Both men had their throats slashed, backs bent over the fountain, and heads completely submerged in the water. They each had roughly twelve stab wounds to their torso, with a few slashes to each of their arms and legs. The water of the fountain and the white marble of the fountain were stained red. He rubbed his fingers against his lips, deep in thought. Whoever this ghost face is, they didn’t go easy on these guys. 

“Do we know who found them?” Jake asked you, jotting more notes down on his notepad and glancing over at you.  

You slowly look over at him, “Crazy thing is,” you sigh, looking back to the bodies, “Yunjin and myself.” 

Jake placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you to completely face him, “That’s how you got here before me?!? YN, what happened?!” 

You pinch his bicep, giving him a smirk, “You’re still more concerned about how I got here first? This isn’t a competition, Jakey poo.” 

Jake rolled his eyes at the nickname you’ve given him, dropping his arms to his sides, “I kind of need to know what my partner knows, don’t I?” 

You smile at him, then turn your body back to the dead bodies. Jake could have sworn he saw a sparkle light up your eyes as you studied them. You always loved being on the scene of the crimes, Jake did too. Something about the thrill of finding evidence and solving the cases is so exhilarating. But you always seemed to enjoy it more than Jake did. It’s one factor that will help make you one damn good detective someday. You already have offers from multiple different offices looking to scout you. 

“Yunjin and I were just taking a walk. Talking about the drama going on with the other people in her major and that’s when we found the bodies.” 

Jake studied your face, watching how the early summer wind blew your hair into your eyes and how you fought to keep the strands pulled behind your ears, it was cute. “Where is Yunjin now?” Jake asked, scanning the crowd of students. 

You pointed off to your left, “She’s with an officer right now, sitting on the park bench with one of the campus professors. Think he’s a stem professor.” Jake spotted your best friend, her red hair covered her face as she rocked back and forth on the bench, arms holding herself and the professor trying to comfort her. He walked around you, preparing himself to ask Yunjin the questions he’ll need to, only to be stopped by you, “Don’t question her right now,” you said, pulling him towards you, resting your breasts against his bicep, pleading with him, “she’s not taking all this very well,” Jake opened his mouth to protest, to tell you he had a job to do. Still, you stopped him again, “Please, Jakey! She’s my best friend, I’ll handle it and get you up to date, I promise.” 

Jake knew he had no control over this matter, she was your best friend and it honestly might be easier for her to speak with you. So Jake nodded, letting you take that lead, and smiled at you. But there still was a job to do, so Jake pulled your arms off his gently, trying his best to not press his arm any closer to your breasts than it already was from your grip, “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” 

You nodded, pulling out your own notebook from your bag. Jake asked you a few questions first about arriving on the scene and writing everything down. After that he pulled his camera from his bag, taking pictures around the fountain, the bodies, and the surrounding area. Not wanting to leave any details out. 

You watched him as he did his thing, following behind him taking your own notes and photographs, studying the area just as much as he was. Jake was in his element, that’s for sure. He wasn’t crowned head of the journalism department for no reason. Eventually Jake knelt to the ground, slinging his camera over his shoulder and jotting more notes down. You removed your gaze from him to look at your best friend, seeing her already staring back at you. 

You could see her bottom lip was trembling, and fear and concern spread throughout her whole face as she wrapped her arms tighter around herself, scooting closer to the officer. The small smile you had faded as you watched your friend, wanting to—

“YN,” Jake called you over, turning your attention back to him. He pulled two latex gloves from his bag and pulled them onto his hands, “I found something.” 

You knelt down beside him, watching as he lifted the camera and shot a couple of photos, “What did you find?” 

Jake reached over, picking up a broken earring from underneath one of the guy’s shoes, gently holding it between his gloved fingers and holding it up to the sky, “How did something like this get here?” 

Jake narrowed his eyes at her earring, it looked familiar. But he couldn’t pinpoint how or why. The earring wasn’t too feminine or too masculine, making it a perfect fit for any gender and nowhere even helping narrow down who this ghost face even was. All Jake knew was the killer had to have their ears pierced. 

“Maybe they had it on their person already?” you suggested, leaning closer to Jake to get a better view of the earring, “Or maybe the killer somehow dropped it?” 

“I’m thinking of the ladder,” Jake whispered, turning the earring between his index and thumb, “But that just means these boys fought whoever our ghost face is.” 

“That’s definitely a great possibility,” you said with a sigh, glancing over to Jake’s face, seeing how focused he was on this earring. 

Jake gave the earring to a forensics investigator to take back to their lab. The police eventually came over and shooed you and Jake off the scene to let the professionals take over, forcing the two of you to head to the journalism office on campus to finish the rest of your own investigations. Jake and you printed off the photos the both of you took and took notes on what the other wrote down in their own notebooks, making copies for each other to have. 

Jake was racking his brain on this case and the previous ones that ghost face had committed. He glanced up at the clock, seeing how late it was, and dismissing the meeting, the both of you going your separate ways. 

Jake stood at the edge of campus and watched as you made your way to your own apartment complex on the other side of the school, wanting to make sure you at least got halfway through campus safely before making his own way to his apartment. 

You weren’t completely new to the journalism scene but were still new as an official journalist in a way. Before you joined the club, it was just Jake and Danielle, a freshman who has a keen eye for writing and helped Jake out with every paper that was written and sent off to the news club. But with the mysterious ghost face killings, he needed an extra set of hands. Danielle wrote about everything with the school, not just the crimes that happened here. And with her still being a freshman, Jake needed that help. He tried to take it up alone, but as the body count started rising, the more it got harder to handle. That’s when you came in, answering Jake's application he posted around the campus and on the campus website. 

Jake has seen you around campus many times before you joined his team but knew next to nothing about you, so of course he did his research before just letting you join the team, can’t have a killer in the ranks huh? But everything about you came back clean. No criminal record or record of anything bad at all. You were a straight-A student back in school, were born and raised in the next town over, and was the sweetheart of that town. You graduated top of your class and was accepted into this college two years before your graduation. You volunteered and donated to charity and worked as an intern at the local police station every weekend to help land you a job there after graduating college. Jake was amazed at how smart you were and dedicated to the job of being a detective someday. And you’d make a killer one someday. 

You were perfect for the team, Jake would be stupid to not accept you. You fit into the team perfectly and became his second and partner super quickly. He taught you everything he knew, and you succeeded way past his expectations. You were honestly a blessing and Jake couldn’t be happier to have found you for the team. When you first joined, the ghost face killings were only at six…but with the ones that were found today, the count went up to seventeen. 

—

Jake found himself waving in and out of the club office in between classes the following week, adding photos and new news articles about the ghost face cases to the corkboard he kept in the office. Wrapping red string around the thumbtacks connecting to each murder and each suspect that was under Jake’s radar. 

He stared at the corkboard for what felt like hours, soon enough classes were done for the day and Danielle walked into the office, “I swear you were staring at that board when I walked past an hour ago.” 

So I have been looking at this thing for too long

Jake blinked a few times at Dani then released a sigh, “Been trying to wrap my brain around this for way too long.”

Danielle giggles, “Then why don’t you help me write this article about the victims from the hockey team.” 

Jake smiled, agreeing to help her. He sat down beside her at the table, advising as she typed out the article and pulled up the facts about the case from his notes and what the official news had stated. 

The longer Jake helped Dani write the paper, the more he came to the realization the two guys the ghost face killed were…kind of assholes. They apparently already were under investigation by the campus police for harassment of other females and even tipped one of the hockey refs to let any of their team's penalties go unnoticed. They weren’t great guys, but they didn’t deserve to die, not the way they were killed. 

As Danielle emailed the article to the news club and packed up her things, you made your appearance in the club, “Sorry I am late,” you said rushing in and setting your backpack to the floor, “My exam ran later than I thought it would, ran as fast as I could across campus to get here.” Jake smiled at you as he watched you pull your long hair back into a ponytail, taking notice of how flushed your face was from your run here. 

“It’s okay,” Jake finally said, glancing down at his notes, “Danielle and I wrote the article and I’ve been staring at that corkboard all day, we can push the meeting to tomorrow.” 

You sat down beside him, staring at Danielle as she stood up, “You heading out?” 

Danielle nodded, “Tryouts for the volleyball team for next semester are coming up, fixing to head off to one of the practices the coach is hosting for them.” 

You gave her a thumbs up, “You got this! You’ll be the best on the team Dani!” the younger blushed and thanked you, giving her own thumbs up as she rushed out of the office, closing the door behind her. 

Jake's eyes trailed from the door to you, finding how cute your flushed face looked. 

“How did writing the article go?” you asked, taking notice of how hard Jake was staring, forcing the ends of your lips to curl up. You pulled your laptop from your backpack, still waiting for his answer. 

But Jake was in a daze. He always found you super cute. And it’s not that often he gets to spend alone time with you like this. Most of the time the both of you are working on a project or the ghost face murders so there wasn’t time to just sit and hang out like there was right now. 

Jake bit the inside of his cheek, eyes trailing down from your eyes to your lips, to your jawline, and then…“What happened to your ear?” 

Your left ear lobe looked as if it were cut in half, clear stitches pulled the skin tight together and were a slight pink color, showing it was recent but healing properly. Normally you have your hair down or pulled half up and he wasn’t normally this close to you on your left side, so Jake never was able to notice this injury. 

You covered your ear, eyes locking with Jake’s, “Uhh, it happened not too long ago,” you said, giving him a small smile, “Yunjin and I were messing around, my earring got caught in her shirt and pulled a bit too hard.” 

Jake raised his brows and stuck his bottom lip out, “That sounds like it was painful.” 

You giggled at his concerned cute look, turning back to face your laptop, “It wasn’t fun, that’s for certain.” 

Speaking of Yunjin, “Hey,” Jake cleared his throat, “I still need to speak with Yunjin about what hap—“

You cut him off, “Please give her more time, Jake,” you quickly said, fumbling with some files on your laptop, “She’s still very shaken up. Hasn’t spoken much at the apartment after finding the bodies. I’ll get the police reports from her account soon and it’ll help us out a lot, I’m sure of it.” 

Another week has passed since the fountain murders and Jake’s brain was on overdrive. He moved the corkboard from the office to the kitchen in his apartment, hoping the fluorescent bulbs of his kitchen would illuminate the board in better ways than the ones at the office. 

Jake leaned against the back of his couch, cupping his jaw in his hand while the other hand gripped his elbow, his eyes trailing every inch of the board from the very first ghost face murder to the recent one. Every news article and photograph and police report possible from all cases was plastered on the board, the red string tying everything together but also totally not. 

Nothing made sense to him. Nothing connected together to help him have an eureka moment. Whoever this ghost face was, they were good at what they do. Covering their tracks in every possible way and not even leaving a single piece of DNA at the crime scenes, that was until the earring. 

Jake ran his hands through his dark hair and tangled his fingers at the back strand of his hair by his neck, letting out a groan. He needed that final police report that you have yet to give to him. Needed to get Yunjin’s account of what happened that day. These were important pieces to the puzzle that were missing and he needed them now. Jake glanced up at the clock above his kitchen sink, it was now one thirty in the morning. But Jake’s thoughts on needing those items didn’t care what time it was and didn’t stop him as he pulled his shoes on and bounced out the door. 

He now stood outside your apartment door, knocking loudly and not giving a damn who heard it. There was no answer. Jake knocked again. Still silent. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed your number. The line rang twice. 

Shuffling could be heard from the other side of the door, the knob turning and the door opening to reveal you in your pajamas and half awake with messy hair. You groaned, “Jake, don’t you know what time it is?” you yawned, stretching your arms out, “Why are you even here?” 

“Can I have the police report?” 

You blinked at him, “Huh?” 

Jake leaned back against the railing, crossing his arms, “The police report, YN. I need it. Can I have it?” 

You let out another yawn, “It’s at the school. In the office.” 

Of course, it was, why wouldn’t it be? The campus was closed and Jake could risk getting caught sneaking into the campus this late at night for a damned piece of paper. Jake sighs, “Thanks anyway” he lifts himself off the rail, turning to leave but then stops, “Can I speak to Yunjin?” 

You scoff and roll your eyes, leaning against the doorframe and crossing your arms, “Jake, it’s almost two in the morning, why are you even out and about? What if ghost face gets you?” 

Then they get me I guess. I’ll put up a fight. 

Jake knew it was a risk coming over here. Mostly because the killer had to be a student. They could be lurking anywhere on campus ground or the apartments/houses surrounding it. He knew it was dangerous. 

“YN,” he mumbled your name, “I can’t sit back and do nothing. I need to catch this murder.”!

You frowned at him, your eyes softening for him, “Jakey, you know you’re allowed to live a normal college life right? To be a normal student?” Jake just shrugs. He knew he could have a normal everyday life if he wished, but he couldn’t rest until he knew this town was safe from ghost face. You roll your eyes at him, “Jake, go home and go to sleep, I can see the bags under your eyes. Let the professionals take care of this, ya? We can only do so much as student detectives and journalists.” 

Jake tilted his head and raised a brow, never once had he ever heard you speak that way, “Let me speak to Yunjin.” 

You stood your ground, “No! Go home Sim Jaeyun, before you get yourself killed.”

Jake scoffs, “See you tomorrow then.” 

You repeated the words before slamming the door in his face. Jake quickly walked down the stairs, his anger fuming. He didn’t understand why you were so against him speaking with Yunjin. He thought maybe you were being protective over your best friend and for her peace of mind, but Yunjin didn’t look well after discovering the bodies and was completely shaken up to the point where she didn’t show up to campus for a handful of days. Knowing this information and you acting weird over it only made him want to speak to Yunjin even more. Jake’s interest peaked when he noticed Yunjin’s vehicle wasn’t in its normal parking spot. 

Meaning she wasn’t home. 

Jake has respected your wishes through this entire case on speaking with Yunjin, but this matter was getting series and he was growing desperate for answers. Talking to Yunjin just might be the big break he needed. The side of Jake’s lips curled in a smile as he quickly jogged to the entrance of your apartment complex and took one final look back at your door to make sure you were inside. Once he confirmed you weren’t in sight, he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number. 

“He-hello?” 

“Yunjin, it’s Jake. Where are you right now?” 

— 

Jake found Yunjin sitting on one of the park benches by the fountain. She stared with all her focus at the fountain, lips pulled into a thin line and hands clasped together in her lap. Jake bit at the inside of his cheek, feeling bad for her and the thoughts that could be running through her mind at this moment, or well, ever since the murders.

“You know,” Jake teased as he walked closer to her, trying to ease the tension, “There are other ways to get distractions from what happened.” 

Yunjin just glared at him through her dark red bangs, “I’m not in the mood to joke around, Sim.” 

Jake sighed, now biting at the skin on his lips as he sat down beside her, keeping his eyes locked on the fountain. It was clean now, obviously, but Jake could see the two bodies slumped over the marbled stone and blood pooling out onto it and in the water. If Jake didn’t take on crime scenes for a living—or well future living—he too probably would be losing his brains. 

“How are you holding up?” Jake asked after some time, already knowing the answer. 

Yunjin scoffs, wrapping her arms around herself, “Holding up as in two weeks ago I found two dead bodies bent over that fountain, or holding up as in I’ve been questioned left and right by literally everyone, or my best friend/roommate smothering me to stay home and just take time?” 

Jake truly felt terrible for Yunjin, mostly for what he was about to ask her. Jake could see that she wanted to forget about it, to push it to the back of her mind and act like it never happened. Who could blame her? It takes special people to look at a dead body and be completely unfazed by it. Jake just happened to be one of those special people. 

“I am so sorry for having to ask you to go through this again…” Jake said barely above a whisper, keeping his body as still as possible. 

Yunjin sighs, “If I am being honest, I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while about all this.” 

Jake quickly turns his body to face her, being a little too excited to finally get Yunjin’s account, “Yeah?” 

She nodded, turning to face him, pulling her legs to her chest, “YN was against it, talking to you,” she swallowed, staring off at something past Jake, “Something was off about her that day…I had a bad feeling the entire day.” 

“What do you mean?” Jake placed a hand on her elbow, “You’re safe, you can tell me anything. Start from the beginning?” 

Yunjin stared into his eyes and nodded, reverting her eyes back off into the distance, “She told me she was meeting up with some people from her class to work on a project,” she took a deep breath, “At first I thought nothing of it, she’s met up with classmates before. So you could probably understand my surprise when said classmates called me to ask where she was because they tried calling her wanting to ask about meeting up. Which was odd, so I told them that she said she was already heading to meet them, and they said they had zero clue what I was talking about.” 

Jake sat back on the bench, staring off into the distance now, the cogwheels of his brain slowly starting to turn, waiting for Yunjin to continue speaking. 

“I got terrified. I rushed out of the apartment and searched everywhere for her. Scared and thinking I was going to find my best friend murdered off somewhere, ya know?” Jake understood completely. With the ghost face on the run, everyone was watching their backs and keeping their loved ones close and being so afraid. It was a question of who would be next? Who is next? “But I found her lingering around the edge of campus digging through her duffle bag. My heart nearly stopped when I saw she was alive,” she took another deep breath, “I confronted her, and she played it off that she meant people from her volunteer job on the other side of campus.” 

Jake studied her face, trying to read it, seeing how pale she was getting now, “I believed her at first, thinking maybe I just misheard her that morning and we started walking back to the apartment. But she wasn’t acting normal, acting like herself. Kept touching her ears and digging through her duffle bag and saying she needed to go find something and just ran off. So I decided to follow her the best I could in the direction she ran off to. I couldn’t just let her go off on her own, not when there’s a crazy psycho ghost face killer on campus. I saw her go through the gates to the park, but once I reached there…I couldn’t find her and just kept walking until…the bodies…” Her eyes widened and tilted her head down to the bench, hands clenching her shins. 

Jake cupped her face with his hands, pulling her to look back up at him, doing his best to comfort her, “Hey, it’s all okay.” 

She nodded, pulling her face out of his hands and staring at the fountain, “I smelt the blood first and noticed their bodies second. And…I heard footsteps behind me and I just knew…I knew I would be next. Before I could turn around and face the killer, the stem professor was walking by, noticing the bodies and dropping everything he had in his hands to the grass and was screaming, locking eyes with me, and pointing saying that we did it. I whipped around to see YN standing behind me, her eyes were wide and her skin was pale and sweaty, staring back and forth between me, the professor, and the bodies. And she’s never been surprised to see bodies. She’s been working with you for over a year now, so when I saw how surprised she was…the look on her face…” 

Jake opened his mouth to speak, but Yunjin kept going, “The funniest thing is her duffle bag was missing,” she scoffed and shook her head, “How does a duffle bag just disappear.” It was a good question. A damned good question, “She hasn’t been the same since then.”!

Jake decided to try and lighten the mood, “Maybe you short-circuited her brain when the two of you were wrestling around not too long ago.” Yunjin gave him a confused look, “You know? She said the two of you were messing around and her earring got caught in her shirt and pulled it straight down her ear. She got stitches for it?” Jake pointed to his left ear lobe, tracing it down the middle where it was cut clean in half, “Right here.” 

Yunjin raised a brow, “I don’t know what you are talking about, Jake. We don’t wrestle each other or she’s never close enough to me where her jewelry would snag on my clothing. We barely hug each other too.” The smile Jake had faded, confusion pulled on his face. Before Jake could respond, Yunjin’s phone started vibrating in her pocket, She pulled it out and saw your caller ID on the screen, “Guess she figured out I’m not at the apartment.” She locked the phone, ignoring the call, “I don’t tell her when I leave the apartment. So I guess I’ll need to prepare myself for a lecture when I get back.” She stood up, stretching her arms out above her head, “Thank you for listening to me. I feel a lot better, honestly. I don’t want to suspect my best friend, and it more than likely isn’t even her. She’s just being weird, I guess.” 

Jake stayed on the bench and watched as Yunjin disappeared into the night before standing up and finally making his way back to his apartment and crawling into his bed. Jake replayed Yunjin’s story over and over and over, trying to piece together every bit of information she gave him tonight. It still didn’t make any sense. None of it did. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop Jake from pulling his phone off the charger and sending you a quick text to meet him at his apartment as soon as possible tomorrow. To his surprise, you responded back rather quickly saying you had some volunteer work that morning but will be there right after. 

—

“You know, you should really keep your front door locked Jakey poo, there’s a killer out there.” You teased him, making yourself at home and dropping your duffle bag into the chair at his kitchen table. Your eyes looked at him, then to the corkboard, “Make any kind of progress yet?” 

Jake took a quick glance at your duffle bag and then at you, then back to the board, “I haven’t. And I left my door unlocked on purpose since you were coming over. You always let yourself in anyways.” 

You smiled at him, walking to stand at his right, crossing your arms behind your back and staring directly at the board, eyes trailing the red string to each case. Jake let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. You glanced up at him, “Don’t worry, we’ll catch them. It’s no doubt, Jakey poo.” 

Jake looked down at you, his heart skipping a beat at the nickname you’ve given him, clenching his hands against his biceps. You looked back at the corkboard, giving Jake the perfect access to look at your left ear lobe. The ditches were gone, but the scar was still very much present. Jake bit at the skin on his cheek, processing his thoughts. 

You looked back up at him, noticing his stare, and gave him another smile, “Mind if I freshen up in your bathroom? I got kinda sweaty at my volunteer job today, I probably don’t smell like roses and sunshine.” 

Jake scrunched his nose in a joking matter, “Please do, you smell stinky.” 

You roll your eyes and pinch his arm, moving quickly away from his side before he can pinch you back, “I’m going to steal your deodorant and cologne, by the way.” 

Jake waited until you disappeared down the hallway and heard the bathroom door shut before slowly walking over to your duffle bag. He didn’t want to suspect you any more than Yunjin did. But Yunjin’s story from last night wasn’t adding up. Your actions weren't adding up. The story you told him wasn’t adding up. Nothing added up. The puzzle pieces weren’t fitting no matter how hard Jake tried to fit them in place. 

Jake took a quick glance down the hallway then back at your duffle, his hands moving on their own as he reached for the zipper and slowly opened the bag. Jake’s eyes widened as he stared inside the bag, biting at his lip to keep any deep breaths from escaping and alerting you. He forced himself to take a couple of calm breaths before looking deeper into the bag. 

The police report he had asked you multiple times for along with the earring from the crime scene in a ziplock bag was found. That wasn’t all. A matching earring was found in the bag and to Jake’s dismay, the ghost face mask and black suit sat inside. Jake picked up the ziplock and matching earring, staring at them and finally realizing where he’d seen them before: in your ears. Jake dropped the ziplock and earring back in and with shaky hands he picked up the ghost face mask. Why did you have these items? It was a stupid question to even ask himself. Jake knew exactly why you had these items. He knew and still tried to come up with any excuse as to why. But after seeing the contents of your bag, all the puzzle pieces fit all too perfectly. 

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you that it’s rude to go through people’s things, Jakey?” Before he could react, a knife was pressed to his neck, and your arm wrapped around his waist, “Didn’t think you were the snooping type. I expected more from you.” 

You stood on your tiptoes to reach his ear, your breath sending chills down his spine. Any doubts Jake had about you were now long gone and out the window. You are ghost face. You’re the killer. 

“Keeping secrets is also very rude,” Jake retorts, dropping the mask back in the bag, “We’re partners, there should be no secrets with us,” Jake swallowed, “But I figure you already knew that I knew. Because why else would you leave your bag for me to snoop in.” 

You giggle, wrapping your arm even tighter against his waist and pressing the knife more into his skin, “Hmm, can’t get nothing past you, can I Jakey?” 

You traced your nose against his cheek, forcing him to tilt his head to the side at your touch, “Why?” he asked. 

You continued to nuzzle your nose against his cheek, “Hmm why did I do it?” you giggle, “You’ll need to be a bit more specific.” 

Jake swallowed, “Everything.” 

You giggle again, “Because it’s fun.” It was a simple yet spine-chilling answer, “You think I played this fucking good girl act because I actually wanted to? No, no. I had to play this part, all to keep my secret well, a secret. This is all just fun and games to me, Jake.” 

“And that’s why you joined our team,” he growled, “To make it harder for us to figure you out.” 

You shrug, “I thought it would spice things up a bit, truly. Yeah working on the inside made it so much easier for me to keep my secret and tamper with evidence. It covered my tracks very well,” you gritted your teeth, “Until you started picking up on. Every. Fucking. Thing!” you hissed against his ear, almost losing your balance on your tiptoes, “You made it so much harder to keep my tracks covered. Picking apart every single fucking thing with each murder case. I was lucky you didn’t suspect me. That was until you started poking your perfect nose into my fucking business. Jake, don't think I didn’t know that you tore apart the damn office looking for the police report before showing up at my doorstep? Or that you talked to Yunjin after I strictly told you to not to?” 

Jake chuckled, “You have the office and our phones bugged.” Knowing that information should surprise him, but at this point nothing does. 

You smirked and pressed your cheek against his, “Smart boy! Think I wouldn’t bug your phone? Or my best friends?” 

Jake went still, “You were going to kill her, weren’t you YN?” 

You giggled, “Yes I was,” his body went cold, “It would have been a pity, truly, to kill off my best friend all because she also stuck her nose where it didn’t belong.”

Jake looked back into the bag at the ziplock containing the broken earring, “You fucked up and went back to your earring.” 

You pressed the knife tighter against his throat, “Shut the fuck up!” you growled, “That asshole fought me instead of taking what he deserved! Didn’t even realize my earring was ripped out of my fucking ear until I fled the scene after murdering them both and felt the blood dripping down my neck. I had to clean myself up so fast and knew I had to find where it broke off. Having to trace my steps throughout the whole park and go back to the crime scene to see her standing there. Had to ditch my bag behind a tree and slide my knife into my jeans, preparing to murder my best friend.” 

Jake scoffed, “All to keep your fucking secret.” 

“Watch it, Jakey,” you hissed, “You have a knife to your throat, remember?” 

Jake clenched his jaw, “He fought you right? Probably accidentally knocked off your mask and saw your face. You acted too hastily and sliced his throat, but not quick enough before he was yanking at your earring.” 

You nodded, a wide smile on your face, “Nothing gets past you, Jakey. You’d really make a good detective someday.” 

Jake needed to turn you in. He needed to get out of here safely and turn you in before you could commit any more crimes and hurt any more people. Seventeen. You’ve murdered seventeen people and probably more than that before you took on the ghost face persona. 

You pressed your breasts against his back, “You know,” you whisper, “I’ve dreamt about doing this with you, my knife being pressed to your throat,” you completely pressed the front of your body against his backside, “It’s really fucking hot.” 

It was now or never. Jake was bigger than you, he could easily take you on maybe. You did take on TWO hockey players alone. But Jake felt like he still stood a chance. Mostly if he catches you off guard. 

Jake leaned into you, feeling you struggle to keep upright on your tiptoes, and grabbed both your wrists, quickly twisting your wrist with the knife, “FUCK!” you shout, dropping the knife to the floor. Jake quickly kicked it from in front of him and twisted your arms and body around, making a quick move to press you face-first against the wall. 

You wiggled in his strong grip, clenching your jaw tightly as you attempted to break free, “Let me go!” he caught you off guard and now you were paying that price. 

“Stop fighting me!” he snapped, pushing you further against the wall and keeping his chest pressed to your back, “Turn yourself in!”

You chuckled, taking a couple of deep breaths in. Acting fast and wrapping your left leg around his and pulling at his knee, forcing it to bend. You used all your strength and pushed back at him, sending him to his ass on the floor and getting out of his grip. 

You climbed in his lap and pressed him to the floor, using one hand to pin his arms above his head and reaching for the knife with the other and placing it back to his neck. Jake was so in shock by your strength and quick thinking that it took him by surprise. Guess you both know how to outsmart the other. 

All Jake could do was breathe deeply and stare up at your beautiful face. Your beautifully killer face. 

You licked your tongue, tilting your head to the side, “You look so handsome, all underneath me like this.” You relaxed your legs and straddled him, feeling your arousal pool in your panties. It turned you on so bad seeing him under you like this with your weapon so close to his throat. You’ve only been able to dream of this. Dreamed what he’d look like under you and how he’d sound. This definitely exceeded your expectations. What made it even better? Feeling how hard he was getting against you and the look he was giving you? So full of anger? Your panties were soaked. 

Jake could feel your arousal seeping into his pants, trying hard to not be affected by it but his cock betrayed him. Jake also has dreamt what it would look and feel like to be underneath you. To feel your body moving against his. He just didn’t think it would be under these circumstances. So he chose to be angry, “Do your panties always get so wet when you’re killing someone?” Jake spat, the fire in his eyes burning. 

You tilt your head to the other side, “You aren’t afraid of me?” 

Jake lifted his head, staring down at you, “Why the fuck would I be afraid of someone who gets wet by killing people?” 

You laugh, rolling your hips against his clothed hard cock. Loving the way he struggled to keep quiet and calm, “Babe, you’re the only one I’ve ever got wet for. The others were just killings to kill. But you, Jake? You just do something to me.” 

From the very first day of seeing Jake on campus, you wanted nothing more than to have his buried balls deep in your cunt. Wanted to ride him so hard as you made cuts to his skin and watch as he moaned and bled out. Wanted to feel him cum so deep and make you his. 

You had more than just one reason to join the team than to hide your secret. You wanted to get closer to him. Get to know him and fuck him so good and kill him right after. You weren’t expecting your plan to be pushed up so soon. You wanted Jake afraid of you as you made the killing blow. You weren’t expecting him to look at you with such anger, so unafraid. 

You leaned down, being nearly inches away from his beautiful face, pressing the knife harder against his neck, “You get me so wet,” you rocked your heat against him. Jake’s composure failed him, his mouth falling slack and a small moan left his lips. The effect you had on him was obvious, you knew it too. 

Jake couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t crushing on you. He’s had heart eyes for you since the first day you walked into the office. How couldn’t he? You are perfect. Still was even with you sitting on top of him with your knife to his throat. 

Jake relaxed his body, “If you’re going to kill me, then do it and get it over with.” 

You smiled, “Want me to?” You released his hands and as if on instinct, he moved them to your thighs. You slide the knife from his neck and to his shirt, looping your fingers with the collar and pressing the knife into the fabric, cutting a line and using your hands to rip the shirt in two, revealing his toned chest and abs. You bit the inside of your cheek. 

Jake smirked, “Like what you see?” 

His words drew you back in. Tracing the tip of the knife down his and abs, tracing out their outline, “Where should I start then?” 

Any ounce of willpower Jake had was gone. He wanted you. Now. He squeezed your thighs and lifted his head up, closing in those few inches and pressing his lips to yours, taking in the sweet taste of your vanilla chapstick and the softness of your lips. You rock against him again, making him moan into your mouth, “Start by taking your clothes off and rid me of the rest of mine,” he whispered. 

You giggle against his lips and pull away, setting the knife down, “Yeah?” Jake nodded, sliding his hands from your thighs to the edge of your shirt, sneaking his fingers underneath and moving up, tracing the tips of his fingers against your skin all the way up until your shirt was off and thrown off somewhere in the apartment. 

Jake lifted his body up, pressing his chest to yours and flattening his palms to your back as he pulled you in for another kiss, shoving his tongue down your throat and unclasping your bra, and tossing it to the side. You placed your hands on his chest and shoved him down, pinning him back against the floor, “Don’t be so impatient, Jakey,” you cooed, “Should have known you’d be into serial killers.” 

Jake tugged at your shorts and kept eye contact with you as you unbuttoned his pants, lifting yourself up enough to roll his pants and boxers off his hips, Jake kicking out of them, leaving him completely bare to you. He kept tugging at your shorts, “Honey, please,” he begged. 

“I know,” you hummed, loving how submissive he was underneath you. You lifted yourself up, finally letting him pull your shorts and panties off your body. Jake was in heaven, roaming his hands over every inch of your naked body, bucking up his hips against your heat wanting to feel some type of friction, “Wanna be inside me that bad?” 

Jake nodded, biting at his lower lip, “Baby, please.” 

“Can’t keep the puppy waiting, now can we?” Jake moaned out at the new nickname. His hands flew to your breasts and squeezed the plush between his fingers. Fuck, you loved how he looks right now. Deciding you kept him waiting long enough, you took his length, pumping him a few times, and lined the tip to your entrance, “You ready, pup?” he nodded, biting his lower lip. He needed to be inside you. 

You slide yourself down him, gasping out in pleasure at the stretch his cock gave you, his tip kissing your cervix. Jake moaned out at the feeling of you wrapped around him, his hands moving down to your waist, squeezing tightly, “fuck honey,” Jake hissed, his heart rate speeding up faster once you take the knife back in your hands, “you feel so fucking good and you’re just sitting there.”

You slowly rocked your hips against him, tracing the knife against his bicep. Oh, how badly did you want to cut him open and see his blood drip down his body. Jake’s moans filled his apartment, hands pushing your hips down harder against him as you rode him, slowly picking up your pace. Hearing him beg for your sex puts you on such an ego trip. He was putty in your hands. You wanted nothing more than to make a complete mess out of him as he cums deep inside you. 

You started bouncing on his cock and making Jake tilt his head back against the floor and arch his back up, hands sure enough leaving bruises against your waist from his grip. He was a moaning mess. And you fucking loved it. 

You placed one hand against his chest, pushing his back flat to the floor and using it as leverage to fuck him faster. You used this opportunity to dig the knife into the skin of his bicep, slowly making a cut. 

Jake hissed through his teeth, feeling the small amount of blood drip down his arm. He pushed himself up in a sitting position, forcing your legs to wrap around his waist and hands now pressed to your back, “Keep moving.” he moaned against your neck and you obeyed the pup. 

Jake was losing his mind feeling you riding him, brain going fuzzy at the mixture of your pussy and the blood dripping down his arm. But he loved it. Was so addicted to it. 

“Cut me again,” he begged, biting your neck and sucking hard. 

You yelped at how hard he bit, cutting another line underneath the first wound but a bit deeper. 

He hissed against your skin, releasing his mouth and licking at the bruise, kissing down your chest and popping one of your nipples into his mouth, licking, biting, and sucking at the sensitive bud. Twirling his tongue around it and loving the moans that escaped your lips with each stroke of the muscle against your nipple. You threw your head back, hands gripping tightly against his shoulders as you kept up the pace of fucking yourself against his cock. 

“Deeper,” he groans against your breasts, “Cut me deeper,” 

You chuckled, “Your fucking crazy.” 

Jake released your tit and attached your lips to his, hands roaming to your ass, “Says the serial killer.” 

You pressed the tip of your knife to the back of his shoulder, “Why are you afraid of me, hmm?” you pressed the knife in and he hissed, dropping his face in your neck, “I could kill you right now.” 

Jake pushed you harder against him, his cock rubbing harder against your cervix, “I have my own secrets.” 

You moved the knife up, cutting a deep perfect line across his shoulder, the smell of his blood filling your senses, “Tell me your secrets, puppy.” 

Jake chuckled, placing open mouth kisses on your neck, his head spinning from the blood loss, “You’re my stacker, don’t you already know them all?” 

You hummed, watching the red liquid fall down his back and pool on his hardwood floor, “I only know what you’ve texted out or physically spoken,” you licked the shell of his ear and whispered, “Tell me anyway.” 

Jake felt a surge of power, pushing you off him and flipping you over, sending the knife dropping to the floor and pressing your face against the floor and ass up in the air. He didn’t hesitate to slide his cock back deep into your pussy, his hips making contact with your ass, “Why should I tell you?” He smirked. 

You shook at his sudden dominance over you, a smirk filling to your face as well, “I’m curious,” you cooed, rocking your hips back and forth against him, “Fuck me, Jake.” 

He kept a firm grip against your neck and hip, pulling himself out to the tip and quickly shoving himself back in, fucking you so hard and fast. Jake flung his head back, mouth slack and moaning out in pure pleasure at the feeling of your cunt sucking him so well. Your moans also filled his apartment, only making Jake pump into you faster. 

“I’m fucking in love with you,” Jake felt insane saying it out loud. Felt crazy that he even admitted it. Felt even crazier to admit it to the person he was fucking ruining. To a fucking murderer, “I’m so obsessed with you, honey.” 

You bit down on your lip, fingers clawing at the floor as the pleasure he was making you feel. And now knowing he was obsessed with you made this all the more enjoyable, mostly since you were just as obsessed with him as he was with you. You were fucking crazy, Jake knew that. But everything about you drew him in and made him want you even more. 

“Say you love me,” Jake demanded, “Tell me you’re fucking obsessed with me too.” 

You were in love with him too. It was crazy, but who cared? Not when he was fucking you into oblivion and had zero fucks that you murdered seventeen people and could very well murder him at any moment. 

The knot of your stomach was threatening to snap, “Jake,” you moaned his name, your hot breath fogging the wooden floor, “Pup, I’m going to cum.” 

Jake took a fist full of your hair and yanked you up, your back now pressing against his chest, “Admit your feelings and obsession with me and I’ll let you cum, honey.” He kept pounding into you relentlessly, showing no signs of slowing down until you clenched around him and he came to a full stop, “What did I fucking say?” 

You swallowed, leaning your head against his shoulder, “I’m in love with you,” you gasped out for air, “I’m so obsessed with you and have been ever first I laid my eyes on you.” 

Jake smirked, “Such a good girl for me.” 

He fucked back into you faster than before, your mouth going slack and nothing but moans escaping. 

“Pup!” you cried, reaching your arms up and tangling your fingers in his hair, “I’m going to cu-cum.” 

“Please,” he moaned, feeling his orgasm fast approaching, “Cum for me, baby. Let's cum together,” he kissed your temple, “Fucking cum around my cock, make a mess of me.” 

A few more thrusts and you came around him following Jake’s orgasm a couple of seconds later, his want cum filling you whole and some leaking out your hole and pooling on the floor. 

“Fuck,” he breaths against your ear, “Sex with you was so much better than I imagined it would be.” Jake was fucking insane. But that’s what made you love him so damn much, “Only imagined how good your cunt would feel wrapped around me and how it would feel to cum inside you. Holy fuck, honey.” 

You smiled and rested the side of your face against his. The sex was so much better than you imagined too. The only thing that was missing would be killing him. But how could you? You loved him deeply. But that didn’t stop your want to see how beautiful he’d bleed out for you. You looked for the knife, but Jake was too quick. 

“Awe babe,” he cooed, pressing the knife to your throat, his free hand grasping your hands and pressing them to your stomach, “You think you could pull a fast one on me?” he bit the shell of your ear and chuckled, “Here’s how things are going to go now,” he releases your hands and cupped your cheeks, pushing your head back to look at him, the knife pressing deeper, “You will keep your fucking mouth shut about these cases and let me take full control over it. You’ll sit in the office and look pretty while I close out the case and get rid of the evidence. You’ll give up this life as ghost face or else I’ll bury you six feet under myself, got it?” 

You swallowed, your arousal forming again, clenching around him. 

“You’d keep this a secret? All for me, pup?” 

Jake smirked, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips, “All for you baby, but do you understand me?” 

You nodded, not being able to say no to him. Not when he’s flipped the tables against you. He was fucking insane to keep this a secret when he has every opportunity to call the police and get you arrested. But it’s the fact that he is insane that he won’t do that. Not when he loves you oh so damn much. Jake was surprised he was so willing to drop the murder cases, all to keep you from harms way. He didn’t care if whatever this relationship was now was toxic. He just wanted you. 

Jake kissed you again, slowly sliding his tongue down your throat and sliding himself in and out of you slowly until you came around his cock again. 

Oh, what did Jake get himself into?

—perm tags: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina

@jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo

@addictedtohobi @eneiyri @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park

@vousty @ladyartemesia @criminalyun @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586

@wondipity @lhsvibez @jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld

@pockettwinzz @vixialuvs @seunghancore @enha-cafe @ohdeerhee

@sunpov @zeeloveshee @hxxsxxng @moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki

—tags: @hearts4itoshi @jennifestival @neosexuals @i58ssj @seunghancore

@emi-en @jentlecoeur @seonghwa10ve @yzzyhee @xenkimmie

@niniissus @minjaexvz @capri-cuntz @heeseungsbabyy

[llamagoddessofficial]

Okay wait! We need more fae farm Sans please! that was too good! What would it look like when Sans's secret is revealed?

HFKDSJ okay, here's some more.

I really don't think he'd be too worried about it, when you discover his otherworldly nature. Because neither would you. Everyone already knows he's kind of strange, rumours of him not being 'normal' are abound. At that point, you would've already spent many moons getting to know him, being vulnerable without even realising - and you'd be living in a world where fae aren't uncommon at all. He's already proven himself a trustworthy friend. Why would you be scared of him?

... Especially since you have no reason to believe he's anything other than normal fae.

What you (a human) might forget is that the fair folk are not a homogeneous group. Some fae even other fae fear. He's one such entity.

It's difficult to tell if he's more powerful than Dream or Nightmare, considering he spends all his time... well, farming. It's also difficult to compare them because while all three are very ancient, they trace back to very different lineages. Dream and Nightmare are fae of butterflies, flowers, mushrooms, trees, seasons. Farmer is of ferns - of bogs, of gingkos, pine and moss.

Yall remember my Forest God AU? He's like if a Forest God got its act together, and just decided to settle down in a humanoid form. He's lived long enough to know what really matters... things like soft socks, a place to call home, the eyes and lips of a human you love.

He calls you "chickadee". It's his favourite bird.

People from the nearby village will giddily ask if you and Farmer are 'courting'. The delightful but mysterious bachelor finally has someone he likes? Everyone's rooting for him!

You have a very important role, on his farm. Very very important. You're his preserves tester. How is he supposed to know his jams and chutneys are any good, without someone of refined palate to assist him?

He has a really wonderful singing voice.

Old habits die hard; he still likes to trade. But the trades are silly, and often just an excuse for him to play. You want to hear him sing again? Better 'trade' by agreeing to cuddle up by the fire with him. You want another song, because the last sounded so ancient and beautiful and unlike anything you've ever heard? Try his spiced rice pudding, then he'll think about it.

His favourite food is roasted chestnuts.

His farm rests on the boundary between the fae and human worlds. You can enter from either side - and if you're not careful, leave on the wrong side. Farmer always walks you the right way, but if someone he doesn't like decides to make their leave, he might not be so attentive to where they're going.

You can stay at his farm without turning into fae. Alternatively, if you enter his property from the fae side, your transformation into fae is paused.

Wouldn't be surprised if he can reverse an incomplete transformation.

He talks fondly, but in the past tense, about a brother.

[lordprettyflackotara]

hitchhiker || chapter one || the proxies

tw: mentions of murder

<— prologue

Brian frowned as he picked up a can of soup, examining the label.

Grocery shopping is pointless.

He sighed as he put the can in his shopping cart. His gaze didn’t stray from the shelves, searching for his favorite. Tomato soup.

Not like we stay in one place long enough to really eat all of this shit.

Brian pushed his shopping cart forward, grumbling to himself. Since your meeting the proxies, they had done everything to avoid you. He cringed at the thought of Tim’s weakness. For the first time in years the roles were reversed, Brian the harsh one and Tim the blind softie. He reached forward to grab a can of chicken soup, his cart ramming into something.

His eyes flickered over to the hard stop, shock washing over him like a brutal wave. There you stood, a tiny red shopping basket accompanying your arm. In your hand sat a can of his beloved tomato soup. “Holy shit, Brian?” You asked. No no no no. What the actual fuck were you doing here? Brian awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. They had driven outside of the city to avoid you and here you stood.

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else-” Brian began. An overly optimistic Toby popped over his shoulder, dropping a container of oreos into the chart. His face lit up at the sight of you.

“Hi Y/n!”

Goddammit.

This reminded Brian why he thought Toby was a liability a smooth eighty percent of the time. The other twenty was Hoodie being impressed someone as slender as Toby could chop up a body so fast. You grinned as you walked around the shopping cart. “I didn’t realize you guys lived so far away from the city, I would’ve driven you closer,” You say. Brian admired your sober look, your face flushed with more color and your words no longer slurred.

“We work out here. Just grabbing some groceries on the way home,” Brian answered. Toby pranced around behind you, peaking over your shoulder. “T-t-tomato soup is H-, Brian’s favorit-te,” Toby said. Brian sighed, silently wishing Hoodie was fronting so you couldn’t see his face. You held out the can to him. “You can take it, it’s the last one,” You say, offering him a small smile. Brian hesitated, before remembering how much he enjoyed tomato soup. He reached his hand out, grabbing the can. His fingers brushed against your soft skin, which was radiating a comforting warmth.

You were like a bundle of touchable joy.

Oh fuck he was becoming soft.

“Thank you,” Brian mumbled, placing it in the cart. You eyed the cart suspiciously, noting the lack of substantial food. “I know you guys are middle aged men, but shouldn’t you have some real food in there?” You asked curiously. Not exactly like we have a lot of time for cooking. “We burn a lot of calories when we-” Toby started. Brian sent him a look so viscous he was surprised the kids head didn’t explode. “When we’re a-at work,” He finished. You raised an eyebrow, exchanging glances between the two. You were about to question the men’s relationship, the faint sound of static causing you to close your mouth.

It was overwhelming, the sensation making the left side of your temple throb. Brian was about to excuse them from the situation, a familiar voice interrupting his saving face. “Hey what’s taking so long?” Tim asked. His eyes nearly popped out of his head at the sight of you. “Hi Tim,” You greeted. It was interesting to you that not only had you ran into them again, you had managed to run into all three of them. Your drunken night had wiped away the awkward moments during your interaction.

Tim had thought you would’ve forgotten them entirely, but it was the rather opposite effect than he wanted. Instead of forgetting them, you only forgot the awkwardness and tenseness of the car ride. “Hi there,” Tim greeted. Brian could practically feel Tim’s flusteredness. Over the years they had slaughtered many women without a second thought, including attractive ones. And sure, the three of them hadn’t had intimacy in God knows how long. But Brian just couldn’t understand Tim’s infatuation with you. You were just a girl.

“So um, about dinner,” Tim continued. Brian refrained from visibly showing his distain. There was always the possibility you would’ve forgotten about the dinner proposal. What the fuck was Tim’s problem? It wasn’t as if Brian wanted them to all die practical virgins, it just wasn’t logical. Having any form of relationship would only result in a tragedy. Brian had racked his brain about it long ago, back when his freedom was first stripped away from him. What could he say? He was a horny motherfucker whose potential lovers would be slaughtered or tortured.

“Yeah?” You say. Brian could tell you were getting excited. You were practically bouncing on your heels. Man, maybe you’d make a good match for Toby. Brian shoved the the thought out of his head, looking away. “Why don’t we go grab some burgers or something tonight?” Tim suggested. Brian noticed the slight raise of your left eyebrow. Tim must’ve too, clearing this throat before following up with, “All of us. Our treat.”

You couldn’t have put on a bigger smile even if you had wanted to. “That sounds great. How about the corner burger joint on twenty eighth avenue? It’s near my apartment,” You suggested. Brian watched in horror as Tim grinned, giving you a confirmative nod.

“It’s a date.”

Brian couldn’t usher the three of them out of the store fast enough. Once comfortable in the car, Brian turned towards Tim. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done? You practically gave her a headstone with her name on it,” He spat. Tim rolled his eyes, digging in his pocket for his faithful box of cigarettes. “One dinner is harmless, isn’t it kid?” He asked, glancing at Toby in the rearview mirror. Brian sighed as the younger man nodded excitedly. “M-most interaction we-ev’e had with another human in a longgg time,” He agreed, his neck twitching to the side again. Brian pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“Don’t weaponize Toby against my argument. We both know this is a terrible idea,” He said flatly. Tim started the car, driving past a fallen over shopping cart on the overgrown field. “If the Operator gets interested in her for even a split second-” Brian continued. Tim rolled his eyes, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “Thats not going to happen, we’d never bring her to him. Besides, she’s just a girl. What’s the worst that could happen?” Tim answered. Out of the seven years they had been partners, Brian had never heard Tim be more nonchalant.

“O-one of us could g-get laid for once,” Toby added. Brian frowned as he reached into one of the grocery bags, pawing away to find the oreos. “Yeah we won’t bring her. But you know they will,” Brian pointed out. The sound of Toby crunching on oreos and the smell of Tim’s cigarette smell overwhelmed Brian’s senses. “They have no reason to be interested in her, nor do they have any reason to front tonight. We already took care of our mission for today. Boss gave us an easy target,” Tim reminded him. It was true, the latest assignment one that would begin easy.

In the trunk of their car sat a corpse of a middle aged man, one who was a detective. He had been investigating the proxies symbol and the various murders they had committed. He was putting all the pieces together, something that led him to a dangerous fate. It was the proxies responsibility to conceal the identities of all creeps. It was their literal job to clean up the messes the Operators mansion residents had made. It became more than personal though once someone began looking into their lives more than they should.

After all, Toby was still considered wanted. Tim and Brian were considered missing. Brian folded his arms, frowning as he looked out of the window.

“Oh yeah that reminds me, how the fuck are we going to discard of the body before dinner?”

\/

You held your phone to your ear, navigating through the whimsical rack of your closet. Your closest friend Nova was on the other end, helping you choose an ensemble for your dinner with the boys.

“Who are these guys again?”

Her voice was laced with concern. You held up a black dress to your figure, analyzing every last detail. “I met them on Halloween. Just a couple of hitchhikers,” You replied. You tossed the black dress aside, grabbing a white one instead. “I read cases of hitchhikers being cannibalistic murderers almost daily you know,” Nova replied. You had grown up with Nova, the two of you remaining close friends into adulthood. Despite the two of you having gone two separate waves career wise, you always made time for each other. She had chosen to be a detective. Despite her constant complaining, her passion was truly driven to seek justice for the victims of psychopaths.

You on the other hand, had made a more reckless choice. Your childhood dreams of being an actress had traveled over into adulthood. Leading in your long term employment at the Steak and Shake as a waitress. “Not all hitchhikers are crazy Nova. Besides, these guys seem nice. You’re the one who’s been telling me to get out there again,” You reminded her. After your nasty breakup with your ex boyfriend, you had become a bit of a reclusive. Halloween was the first time you had been out in months, Nova leaving early with her hookup of the night.

“Yeah but there’s three of them. They’re going to make you pick one,” She informed you. You rolled your eyes. You set your phone down on your dresser, putting it on speaker. “You know with how woke you are i’m surprised you don’t believe in being polygamy,” You said. You shoved your jeans down to your ankles, stepping out of them. You glanced up at a photo of you at graduation, Nova occupying your side. Her caramel skin was always polished and soft, her soft brown eyes always lit up in a smile during photographs. Her hair framed her face just right, giant curls practically bouncing in the picture.

“It’s not that I don’t, I just don’t see you being the polyamorous type,” Nova told you. You shoved off your shirt, tossing it aside carelessly. “If you’re so worried why don’t you go with me?” You suggested. You knew Nova would immediately decline, you just wondered what excuse she would come up with this time. The two of you ran with two very different crowds. Hers more professional, yours more wild. “You know I don’t have time for that right now. Winston just disappeared. Godwin couldn’t wait to throw this case in my lap,” She sighed. You began putting on the dress, struggling to put your arms through the complicated arm holes.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” You asked, trying to sound out together as you put your neck through the wrong hole. You awkwardly shifted on your feet, questioning why you bought this dreaded thing in the first place. “There’s a bunch of murders he thought were connected by some weird symbol. All of them have been gruesome. The chopped up bodies have all been dismembered the same way,” Nova informed you. You grinned as you finally managed to maneuver the dress, admiring yourself in the mirror. “Dude i’m going out to eat in like fifteen,” You reminded her.

“Yeah yeah my bad. I forget regular citizens don’t interact with this kind of stuff,” She said. You refrained from rolling your eyes, reminding yourself she wasn’t being egotistical. She just lived in her own world a majority of the time. You picked your phone up off of the dresser, taking her off of speaker before putting the phone up to your ear. “Well do you think Winston was onto something?” You suggested. Nova seemed to ponder it for a moment before responding. “You know I thought he ran away with his mistress but you’re onto something. He must’ve been on the right track,” She said.

“Most detectives don’t disappear overnight with their wallet still at home,” You reminded her. News headlines had been broadcasting Lewis Winston’s disappearance all morning. “Look at you becoming a little detective. You gotta get your degree so we can become partners,” Nova chuckled. You smiled, pulling on a pair of shoes. “Let me star in at least one blockbuster hit before you force me to change career paths,” You replied. You admired yourself in the mirror, ignoring your antsy nerves. How long had it truly been since you had been out on your own?

“You know i’ll be in the front row of the premiere. Maybe your hitchhiker boyfriends will be there too,” She laughed. Nova meant it as a harmless joke, but the idea alone made you incredibly flustered. “Yeah yeah very funny, i’m going to go have dinner with my hitchhiker boyfriends now,” You told her, guiding the conversation to end.

“Uh huh. Call me if your hitchhiker boyfriends are killers!”

You took your friend’s warning as a joke, but looking back, you should’ve taken her advice.

—> chapter two

[tsukimefuku]

blunt trauma ♰ nanami kento

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

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

wc: 7.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you certain it was him?"

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

"And how many students did he…"

"Two students from Kyoto."

Your head instantly felt dizzy.

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

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

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

Gojo was silent for a few moments.

"Hey…"

"Tell me. I can take it."

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

"Yes. It will."

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

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

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

"Of course."

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

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

There had been a few casualties, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Help was late to arrive.

They were too late for Haibara.

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

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

At least

There is a body 

To be buried

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As if he was just mundanely stuck in his ways. 

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

"Precisely."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why did you do it?"

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

"It was a necessary means to an end."

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

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

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

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

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

Nanami sighed, clearly displeased.

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

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

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

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

"Don't say his name."

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

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

This wasn't the case now.

Not entirely, at least.

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

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

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

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

You finally understood you were in love with him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It felt like a promise.

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

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

What a cruel irony.

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

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

What a fucking low blow.

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

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

He diverted his gaze back to the window.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you weren't there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The hell I did!"

You had to take a deep breath before proceeding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your own body held you back from taking his life.

He didn't seem to notice.

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

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

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

"You were never the practical one."

You scoffed.

"Guess I learned something from you."

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

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

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

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

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

You were cornered.

This is it.

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

Precise, just as he was.

Deadly, just as he was, too.

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

This seemed like an oddly cruel way to go.

However, the impact never came.

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

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

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

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

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

“I fucking hate you, Nanami.” 

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

“I hate you as well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just fucking kill me already.

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

Did he hate you that much?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

I should be over her by now, dammit.

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

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

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

 So delicate, so lovely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Back to rough, but not entirely, it seemed.

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

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

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

"Go fuck yours-"

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

He seemed satisfied at that. Perhaps, even elated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He couldn't help it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aaah-- Kento! S-slow d-… fuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it couldn’t.

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

And wouldn’t go now, either.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But this wasn’t that universe, unfortunately.

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

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

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

Good riddance to me, I suppose.

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

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

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

You could kiss him like this forever. 

You actually wanted to, at that moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like you were.

And just like Nanami was.

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

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

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

“Yes. I’m not coming with you.”

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With a decade’s old delay.

“I… just can’t. I can’t.”

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

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

He felt pathetically small.

Guess we get what we deserve, after all.

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

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

“Go to hell.”

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

Sad.

“We’re already here.” 

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

You were doomed to always keep leaving each other.

If only the world had been a little kinder.

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

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

-

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

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

@codenamesongbird

[cordeliawhohung]

Inspired by the latest entry in your p⭐️ Gaz series (which was excellent, by the way. 10/10 great form)

since our dear Reader did such a good job topping our lovely boy, what if we took that same approach and followed it to its natural conclusion: Reader pegging Gaz.

It’s up to you whether p⭐️ Gaz has prior experience with pegging, either way the potential for the deepest and most sensual fucking Gaz has ever received is 🤯

oh boy oh boy. well, i'm sure you guys can guess the warnings for this one. not edited just horny.

more ps!gaz here

Once the hilt of your strap fully sheaths inside Kyle, he lets out a groan that's only buried by the sheets and mattress underneath his hands and knees.

It wasn't easy taking all of it, especially with so many people watching with beady eyes behind cameras and lights. The fried remnants of his brain attempts to complete a thought, but it's all disconnected. All short. The only thing he can register is the stretching of his ass, your hands rubbing his back, and the aching twitch in his cock.

"Talk to me, Kyle," you croon while your hands trace the rippling muscles on either side of his spine.

"Fuck," he hisses. He clenches around the silicone, and though you can't feel it, you can see it. "It's good- I'm good."

It's an unfamiliar feeling, being stuffed so full, and while the burn of discomfort fades, he feels the way the faux cock brushes against him. How it sends a jolt of pleasure throughout his body, making his cock jump in excitement. You grin as you slowly move your hips back, lube quietly squelching as you do. All this is just as unfamiliar to you as it is to him. You doubt you can move your hips with enough force and fervor as he usually does with you, but the sweat glistening on the nape of his neck tells you that you won't have to do much more than what you're already doing.

"Good boy," you tease as you push back into him.

Everyone in the studio looks bored, and you're not sure why. With the precious sounds you're pulling out of him, you're too enthralled to care about anything else. Yet half of the studio is on their phones typing away some message certainly complaining about the shoot, but you refuse to go any faster. Kyle's putting his implicit trust in your hands, and you wouldn't do anything to break that. You promised you'd take just as good care of him as he does of you.

When you bottom out a second time, Kyle whines and it sounds like music to your ears. His hips rut forward, almost like he's forgotten how the roles are reversed. He learns to keep his hips steady for you as you find your rhythm. You've never heard Kyle sound like that. The whining like a dog, the gasps like he's breathing through a straw.

You feel the presence of the camera man behind you pan over your shoulder, getting the perfect view of your sweet boy too fucked out to properly think. You'd be lying if you said your cunt didn't ache at the sight of it. At the sounds you pull from him.

"Fuck I- please. N-Not gonna last much longer," he whines.

Smirking, you snake an arm around his waist where you palm at his leaking cock. Once again his hips rut forwards shakily, and the next time you fully sheath the strap inside of him, you keep your hips pressed against his.

"That's alright," you coo. Your hand leisurely wraps around his puffy tip where you slowly began to glide along his length. His head digs into the mattress with a groan. "Let it out, baby. You've been so good."

His hips begin to jerk uncontrollably, and you've got him completely trapped. Moving forward only stimulates the absolute torturous pace you're jerking him off to, but moving backwards only stimulates that ever-winding spot inside of him. With no where to go, his body nearly convulses at the pleasure.

He babbles incoherently as he reaches his peak, and then all words fail him as he spills over your hand. All he can do is pant with shuddering breaths as his cum seeps into the sheets underneath him. Giving him mercy, you slow your hand but offer him no other reprieve as you lean forward, pressing your chest against his back as you plant a kiss against his spine. It's as if everything else doesn't matter. Not the cameras or the people. He's either too fucked out to care, or simply can't be bothered as the remainder of his orgasm washes over him.

"Christ," he pants. "I... hardly fuckin' lasted."

Smirking again, you rock your hips forward, making him jump. "I'll take it as a compliment."

[soulprompts]

BLIZZARD PROMPTS.

it's november which means it's winter, so here u go! i wanted these to be kinda dramatic and intense, but i'll be making some cozier fluffier ones as time passes! DO NOT ADD OR EDIT THIS LIST! but always feel free to add [ REVERSE ] to one of the actions to reverse the roles!

[ RACE ]: sender sprints out into a blizzard to rescue a freezing and disorientated receiver.

[ BUNDLE ]: sender removes their coat to wrap it around a visibly shivering receiver.

[ WARM ]: sender vigorously rubs the receiver's arms in a bid to warm them up after being exposed to a winter storm outside.

[ SHELTER ]: sender hastily guides the receiver to a nearby shelter for them to wait out the storm together safely.

[ PREPARE ]: sender ties a length of rope around their waist and the receiver's waist in order to safely stay together as they prepare to go out into the storm.

[ BREATHE ]: sender takes the receiver's cold hands and begins to gently blow warm air over them in an effort to keep the receiver warm.

[ HOLD ]: sender takes the receiver's hands and holds them together in order to keep them warm during a cold spell.

[ EMBRACE ]: sender wraps their arms around the receiver and holds them close in an effort to conserve body heat during a snow storm.

[ AID ]: sender begins to either guide, drag, or physically carry a weakened receiver through a blizzard to safety.

[ CALL ]: having been separated from the receiver during a blizzard, the sender begins to call out their name in order to guide them back to each other and reunite safely.

[ PUSH ]: having just rescued the receiver from a blizzard, the sender insists on pushing the receiver closer to a fire to warm them up first.

[ POUR ]: sender pours the receiver a hot drink after finding shelter from a freezing snow-storm.

[ EXTRA ]: sender wraps an extra blanket around the shivering receiver after having been exposed to a blizzard outside.

[ SPARK ]: the sender builds a make-shift fire in a hurry in order to warm up a freezing receiver during a snow storm.

[ SHARE ]: the sender opens out their blanket to share it with the receiver during a snow storm, pulling them closer against them to share their body heat.

DIALOGUE PROMPTS.

" come on! we need to get you out of this cold! "

" follow my voice! keep calling my name, i can't see you in the storm! "

" oh, god, you're freezing... come on, put your arms around my neck. that's it, good job... let's get you inside. "

" i g-got lost... separated from my group... p-please, it's so cold, i'm so c-cold... "

" here, take my coat... you'll freeze to death in no time if you don't. "

" drink some tea, okay? warm yourself up from the inside. it's not my worst effort, but granted, it's not my best either. "

" hey, hey, stay with me! i know you're thinking you're tired, but you're not; you're freezing, and sleeping will not help keep you warm, okay? keep moving. come on, we're almost there... "

" you know how to light a fire without matches? all we have is a broken lighter and some sticks and stones. "

" don't be stubborn, okay? we need to share the bed, conserve our body heat. come on. if i wanted to seduce you, i've got better moves than hypothermia. "

" you didn't bring a jacket or anything?! i told you to wrap up warm, you dumbass! "

" don't be getting all mad at me, okay? i saw you in the middle of a blizzard, i ran out to rescue your idiotic butt. no time to figure out zips and buckles when i've got to be the local hero, right? "

" what the hell are you doing out here?! are you crazy?! it's negative fifty billion degrees and getting colder by the minute! come on, come with me! "

" i can't see a damn thing in this storm; keep holding on to me, okay? last thing we want is to get separated! "

[nottobehornyonthemain]

I adore my little angel, we all do, I know. But you want to know what absolutely murdered me about That Conversation? It’s his face right after “No Nightingales”.

Because he doesn’t just look hurt, or sad. He’s clenching his jaw and raising his chin, just a little, regaining his composure. He doesn’t just look hurt, he looks angry.

And this isn’t his reaction to opening his door and finding the person who tried to kill him. This isn’t his reaction to finding out God plans to kill a bunch of kids and cause a man to suffer just to win a bet. This isn’t his reaction to the combined forces of Hell outside his shop.

This is his reaction to the fact that the love of his life just used the Nightingale, *their* Nightingale, in this context. Because he isn’t just saying no, he’s telling him that he loves him, but not that much.

And I think this is the moment their roles are properly reversed. Now it isn’t Crowley trying to escape the end of the world by running to the stars. It’s Aziraphale, trying to escape this conflict he and Crowley have for 6,000 years by finally putting them back on the same side and getting rid of all that messiness and philosophical differences.

Aziraphale knows why he couldn’t go with Crowley last time, but he doesn’t want to accept that because Crowley doesn’t have a higher authority he can go to, doesn’t have some plan that’s going to fix everything instead of just running.

For the first time in 6,000 years Crowley isn’t the one to suggest a solution, a temptation. He’s not recommending the Arrangement, he’s not suggesting they tutor the Anti-christ, or even that someone kill him, he’s not suggesting they runoff to Alpha Centauri, he’s not offering for Aziraphale to come stay in his flat because the bookshop burned down. Because this is their dance, Aziraphale is the good one. Crowley will always come back and tempt him again, and Aziraphale will always forgive him.

But this isn’t Crowley tempting and Aziraphale resisting. This is Aziraphale tempting, and Crowley saying ‘No’. And now the dance is all wrong.

But then Crowley kisses him and Aziraphale tries to fall back into pace, because in his head, the kiss is Crowley’s newest temptation, so he offers forgiveness in the last desperate hope they can find their footing here.

But he’s wrong. Because the kiss wasn’t Crowley tempting him. The kiss was Crowley’s forgiveness. So of course he tells Aziraphale not to bother this time. The forgiveness already happened.

Which means Aziraphale has the lead in their dance, and he has no idea what to do next.

[barblaz-arts]

Fellow Chaggie shipper, here and I wanted to ask you a question. Could you please do an analysis post on the Chaggie argument from Hello Rosie. I know this will sound weird but I can't get over the level of icy anger Charlie had towards Vaggie or how despite everything going on, Charlie is more hurt from Vaggie not being honest with her. Just angst all around.

Oh yeah sure I'd love to!

I'm not sure there's a lot I can say about that argument that isn't already super obvious, so I wanna talk about Charlie's anger because of something my brother said as we watched episode 7. He loved that episode apparently because "When they're separated, it's even more obvious that Charlie is the one who's more quick to lose her cool." Which, looking back, is actually true!(To an extent)

Vaggie and Charlie are both quite quick to anger. Charlie is just better at hiding it because she's a chronic people pleaser. Although Charlie wouldn't immediately show her anger at a person being a jerk to her specifically, she's immediately summoning fire and brimstone over anyone who hurts/insults her friends or the cause she's fighting for.

Love this lil bit in "You Didn't Know". How Vaggie is the one telling Charlie to calm down, as if she knows what's about to happen. She knows that if she doesn't at least try to reel in her girl Charlie would be spitting literal fire at a goddamn seraphim.

It would seem like such a surprising role reversal, but if you look at all the times Charlie would lose it whenever Vaggie's not there to tell her "babe, chill", then it makes sense.

But then when their fallout happens, Charlie's short temper is even more apparent. She calls Alastor an asshole to his face even though she considered choosing his support over her father's. She openly glares and rolls her eyes at Rosie when she jokes that her and Alastor look like an item even though she still kept things cordial with Valentino after he licked her arm. She flips the bird at some old lady even though she didn't take visible offense at all the demons that inserted their crude and rude selves in "Happy Day in Hell." While she was cold and subdued even when upset with Vaggie, she was explosive and in ur face when she was pissed at everyone else.

Vaggie reigned in both the girl in Charlie who dreams a little too big and the demon who's waiting to lash out in flames. It really makes me wonder if there's a difference in the kind of person Charlie used to be before Vaggie. Before she had friends to be angry on behalf of and a person to calm her down. And then, in the wake of their argument, Charlie is left with a lot of anger that is easy to ignite.

But I love love love that despite all that anger, Charlie can't bring herself to deny that she loves Vaggie with all of her hurt heart.

This little moment is one of my favorite parts in the series. My brother mentioned that this episode and episode three were his favorites because he liked the beats the dialogues followed. So he looked back--

(the man literally paused the episode to check the opening credits of ep 7 and 3. I was a little annoyed because I just wanted my Chaggie dammit! We'd make terrible youtube reactors with all the pausing and discussing mid-episode that we do...)

--and was satisfied to see that it was written by the same person, Ariel Ladensohn. Apparently she's in a sapphic relationship too and projected her own experiences whenever she wrote Vaggie and Charlie, and it must have paid off because the moments she wrote with them felt so real.

Charlie expressing her fear that even Vaggie's support and love could also be part of the lies she told was understandable considering the betrayal she felt. But immediately following that she goes "Oh that's a horrible to thing to think!" which I love even more. Even when she's understandably mad she thinks about how Vaggie would feel over Charlie thinking that of her. Because although Vaggie lied about who she is, Vaggie was always sincere about how she felt for Charlie. Vaggie's past may have been a lie, but the things she did for, to, and on behalf of Charlie were very real and held dear in Charlie's heart.

I dont have anything smart to say to conclude this. Sorry, I'm not even sure where I went here. Let's all just appreciate the smile Charlie has on her face when she thinks about Vaggie even when she's under a lot of stress I guess.

[pucksandpower]

okeyyyy!

but we need a Grid Kids that maybe y/n and seb were in an car accidente (and y/n took the worst of it) and now the roles are reversed, now they are gonna take care of them

Loving this series so much

Grid Kids: UNO Reverse Card

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the roles are reversed when disaster strikes and your grid kids make it their duty to take care of you

Series Masterlist

The rain is pouring down and the paddock is filled with the usual organized chaos accompanying a wet race. The garages are lively with the sounds of mechanics tuning engines, engineers going over data, and drivers preparing for the race.

Suddenly, a deafening silence descends as a member of the Aston Martin team rushes in, face pale and voice shaking, “There’s been an accident. It’s Sebastian and Y/N.”

The news spreads like wildfire. The paddock, usually filled with the roars of engines and excited chatter, is now eerily quiet. Your grid kids, upon hearing the news, rush to find out more details, their faces masks of concern.

A shaky video from a fan’s phone plays on loop on their screens, showing the aftermath of a devastating collision. Your car is almost unrecognizable, crushed, with the driver’s side visibly less damaged.

George, having seen the video, collapses onto a nearby chair, tears streaming down his face. “This can’t be happening,” he whispers.

Lando, usually the life of the party, stands frozen, disbelief evident in his eyes. Mick, face ashen, tries to make calls to get more information while Lance rushes to find his father to find out if the team has heard anything more.

***

Soon, details emerge that you bore the brunt of the impact and your condition is critical while Sebastian, though injured, is stable. The helicopter is already airlifting you to the nearest hospital.

As the severity of the situation sinks in, your grid kids, in an unprecedented move, gather together for an emergency meeting. The weight of the decision is clear in their eyes.

After what feels like an eternity, Charles stands up, his voice firm yet choked with emotion, “We’re pulling out. We can’t race knowing Y/N is fighting for her life. We need to be there for her, just like she’s always been there for us.”

The decision is unanimous. One by one, they all agree. Telling their teams and the FIA descends the paddock into even more chaos.

***

The hospital waiting room is filled with a mix of team colors. Red from Ferrari, orange from McLaren, deep blue from Red Bull, green from Aston Martin, white from Haas, and black from Mercedes. The fierce rivalry that usually defines race weekends is nowhere to be seen. Instead, they’re united in their concern for you.

Sebastian, despite his injuries, is by your bedside, holding your hand, praying silently for a miracle.

As the hours drag on, the grid kids take turns sitting by your side, sharing stories, hoping their voices provide some comfort, even in your unconscious state.

Mick, teary-eyed, recalls, “Remember when I missed my dad? You were there for me.”

Lando adds, “And when I just wanted milk? You welcomed me like family.”

Charles, voice filled with emotion, says, “We’re here now, for you, just like you’ve always been for us.”

***

As night turns into dawn, there’s a shift. Your vitals start stabilizing and the worst seems to be over. The relief is palpable as the somber mood hanging over your family fades away.

Sebastian, tears of gratitude in his eyes, thanks each one of them. “She’s strong, and with all of you here, I knew she’d find a way to fight through.”

***

A week has passed since the accident and you’re now firmly in the recovery phase. The room is overflowing with flowers, cards, and quirky gifts — each one a symbol of just how much you mean to the racing community.

As you slowly regain consciousness, groggy from the medication, the first thing you spot is a balloon, bobbing near the ceiling, with the words “Speedy Recovery!” It has a little caricature of you in a race car with your cat (in a tiny sweater) on your shoulder. Another one reads, “Get back on track soon!”

Mick enters the room with a tray, “Look who’s awake! I made you my special recovery smoothie. Okay, it’s mostly chocolate ... but it’s the thought that counts.”

Charles follows, holding a peculiar-looking teddy bear dressed in a racing suit. “Meet Racy. He’s going to keep you company. We tried to smuggle Speedy in under our hoodies but got caught so this is the next best thing.”

Lando waltzes in, proudly holding up a t-shirt with “I survived a car crash and all I got was this lousy t-shirt” printed on it.

Max pops his head around the door, holding a full-sized F1 helmet, “You better wear this the next time you get in a car.”

George, with his trademark smile, presents a plush safety car. “To keep you safe and sound, always.”

Lance, trying to contain his grin, brings in a steering wheel cushion. “For those moments when you feel the need to take control of your recovery.”

You can’t help but chuckle at their antics. “You guys ... always know how to lighten the mood.”

Sebastian, holding your hand, grins, “They’ve been brainstorming ways to cheer you up nonstop for days now.”

***

Determined to keep things positive, your grid kids rally together for a surprise. As the evening descends, they transform your room into a mini-movie theater. They even managed to sneak in a projector.

The movie choice? “Cars” of course.

Lance, armed with a bucket of popcorn, declares, “I mean, if we can’t race real cars today, might as well watch animated ones!”

Mick dims the lights and George hits play. As the familiar sounds of the movie fill the room, everyone settles in ready for a night of laughter.

***

It doesn’t take long for the grid kids to turn the movie night into their own commentary session.

As Lightning McQueen races across the screen, Max quips, “I think I could’ve taken that turn better.”

Lando, laughing, chimes in, “And Mater reminds me of Charles after a few too many energy drinks.”

Charles feigns outrage, “That’s unfair! I’m at least 10 percent more sophisticated than Mater.”

You, through bouts of laughter, shake your head, “Honestly, I can’t decide what's better, the movie or your commentary? You guys might have a future on a broadcast somewhere if this whole racing thing doesn’t work out.”

As the credits roll, Sebastian whispers, “This is exactly the medicine you needed.”

Your grid kids truly make the day memorable, proving that through thick and thin, family — in whatever form it may take — is everything.

***

The sun is high and the paddock is buzzing with energy as preparations for the upcoming race are in full swing. As you and Sebastian approach, there’s a sudden almost comedic halt in activity. It’s as if someone hit the pause button on a remote. Everyone turns to face you, jaws dropped.

Lance feigns fainting, “Is it a mirage? Or has our beloved Y/N truly graced us with her presence?”

Max approaches with an exaggerated limp, mimicking you, “Thought I’d get into the spirit of things,” he says with a smirk.

George emerges from the crowd holding a makeshift red carpet (it’s just a red towel he stole from Ferrari), rolling it out in front of you. “For our returning queen,” he declares with a bow.

Charles and Lando appear, each holding one end of a “Welcome Back” banner. You try to turn your head to read it … they accidentally held it upside down.

You’re trying hard to hold back tears of laughter. “You guys are impossible,” you manage to say between your chuckles.

Mick, with a gentle smile, approaches holding a small framed photo. It’s of you surrounded by all your grid kids, taken during a race earlier in the season, with the inscription “Family, Always.”

Touched by the gesture, you softly say, “Thank you so much, Mick. This means a lot.”

“You’ve always been there for us,” he replies. “It’s only right that we’re here for you.”

Sebastian, wrapping an arm around you, adds with a grin, “I think they missed you.”

You really loved your grid kids.

[madzthemenace]

Im a firm believer that Peeta is the cook of the house post-mockingjay.

He’s a baker, so there’s already proof he likes making food. Cooking also requires less skill, which is why i think some people believe Katniss would be the cook (no katniss slander here), but that means you dont have to be precise with ingredients, meaning he can experiment and just chuck whatever in, and as he’s already a baker i can imagine him experimenting with what he bakes.

I also think Peeta would love cooking for Katniss, and later on the kids. Its something he knows he can properly provide. Its also one of the most important parts of their relationship - Peeta giving Katniss the bread that fateful day when they were 11. They love providing food for eachother, its one of their love languages. We also know that Katniss does NOT like being cooped up inside all day, she likes her freedom and the woods, i cannot imagine her willingly spending hours in the kitchen waiting for something to cook when she could be out in her woods. She is not a patient person.

AND we already know that Katniss and Peeta have reversed gender roles, and being the cook is typically the woman’s job (in a partriarchal society).

Also in the first books Katniss claims shes not a very good cook - “Im not much of a cook” (thg 323) , and she says to Peeta “I’ll kill and you cook” (thg 359)

Anyways this is my rant about why i think Peeta is designated cook.