#i’m trying to journal but i just want some inspo
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Hello love , ok so I’m wondering on how I can keep my confidence up. It’s like when I get myself together to look and be cute and it’s time to take pics my pictures never come out right and I meant never , they only come out right with filter which sucks. This just brings my confidence down and makes me not want to take pictures at all. And just seeing other take the same pics , and even low quality pics and it still looks right just makes me mad. And I don’t know what I can do
Let’s Talk: Confidence
Inner Work: Confidence isn’t something that happens over night. In order to boost your confidence you have to do some shadow work and be willing to learn about who you really are.
Envision It: What do you want yourself to be? How do they look? How do they dress? How do they speak/act? Make vision boards and journal it. Even if you have a good idea on how you’d like to dress, write it down! It’s good to have something to look back on when you’re feeling down.
Believe It: Confidence is not just about your appearance. Walk like you got it. Speak like you got it and know that you got it. Learn to ignore your subconscience and start practicing mental diets. Whenever you feel a negative thought coming on immediately replace it with something positive.
Consistency is Key: Affirm + journal self love affirmations. Write them down in your notes app, put them on your laptop, place sticky notes of different affirmations around your house or make a self love jar. Practicing self love everyday will help keep your confidence at an all time high and can boost it when needed.
Don’t Compare Yourself to Others: Compete and compare with yourself and yourself only. You should strive to be a better person than you were yesterday. Realize that you are unique in your own way. Draw inspiration from others who make you want to be your best self.
Be Kind: Don’t tear yourself down if your pictures don’t turn out right or if something doesn’t go your way. Pause and back track. What can you do in this situation to make it better? Do you need a change of scenery for your photos? Adjust the way you pose? Don’t directly turn to negativity instead be soft to yourself and focus on positive solutions rather than the negative.
Take Some “Me” Time: When you feel yourself getting frustrated, it’s time to take a step back. Hop off of social media and spend time loving yourself. Meditate, read, do some yoga and journal. It’s time to regroup and focus on yourself only. Avoid negative situations and return when you feel ready.
Don’t Seek Validation and Ignore Outside Opinions: Only your opinions on yourself matters. Do what makes you happy and fulfilled.
Be Authentic: No one can be you. You’re unique, you’re beautiful, your personality is bright and your energy can not be matched. You don’t need approval or need to be like anyone else.
Cut Out What Doesn’t Serve You: Set boundaries and remove any negativity that may try to tear your down.
At the end of the day, you need to work on your overall confidence in order to be truly happy with the pictures you take. Recognize your beauty and uniqueness. Stop comparing your photos to others and realize that there’s no one like you. Once you boost your confidence then try different photography techniques. Look for inspo, try different poses, go out with friends for a photo session and explore pretty places to take pictures. Building your confidence takes time so please be patient and gentle with yourself.
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J O U R N A L
C H A L L E N G E
Disclaimer: Lol this has probably already been done pls don’t come for me I know this community goes nuts about credits sometimes and I’m not claiming to be special for making this. If u have seen this done before or if you have made a challenge similar, I’m not trying to copy, this is a pretty common method in general I’m just turning it into a challenge for myself and anyone who wants to try it, to have a specific outline and method of practice.
Inspo:
I was listening to just like magic and she talks about her day, and I decided that I should ACTUALLY practice scripting. Daily. Like a journal entry every day of everything I want my day to be like! Writing every day as the person I wish I was! Present tense, dated as today, detailing everything about my life as it should be!
What’s wonderful about this is it can be as detailed or simple as I want. Let’s say one day I write a detailed entry talking about driving my ideal car to the gym and going shopping and meditating and spending time with my lover and best friend and then the next day I just write “today was the perfect day.” Either way I’m manifesting. Either way I’m creating my dream life. This is the perfect method to manifest ANY and EVERY THING! A new home, a new car, being rich as fuck, specific person, lifestyle, what kind of person you are, what you do with your life. If you’re trying to start a new routine of yoga or you want to eat healthy, journal about it. If you want to go out and have fun more often, journal it. This is SO versatile and yet simple. So here’s the challenge:
Get a journal or a page in your notes app to dedicate to this challenge. This will ONLY be for scripting. It will be 100% living in the end.
Put the date on the top of the page and write as if you are living your ideal life.
This isn’t about the future this is about how perfect your day is TODAY! Flip any negative things that happened into the positive ideal version. Add anything you want into your current reality. Write about any positive things that happened or that you already have.
Try to journal every day, I suggest at night before you go to bed. It’s okay if you miss a day here and there, it happens, who cares. And if you totally fall off for a while, that’s fine, just pick it back up and keep going.
Example:
January 3rd 2023
I got tickets to go see my favorite comedian live! I’m so excited I can’t wait! Also today has just been amazing in general because my partner is so sweet to me, we got breakfast together and went on a walk and today has just been sooo beautiful! We found a place to chill in the park after our walk and we drew cute pictures of each other! The perfect date!
January 4th 2023
Today was such a perfect day
January 5th 2023
I started my day with my self care routine, and made a cup of ice coffee, then I went to the gym. I went home and showered and hung out with my friends on the beach.
January 6th 2023
Today has been so amazing! I woke up to $6000 added to my bank account out of the blue! So I took my best friend and my partner shopping and then we went to go see a movie. Now I am just relaxing after my daily meditation and I will do yoga and then take my partner on a fancy date. I love my life. It’s literally such a dream!
These are just examples to show that you can go into detail, write about specific things you want to manifest, or your ideal lifestyle or you can just manifest good vibes some days. So give it a shot, and dm, leave a comment, or leave an ask in my inbox and tell me how it went if you do
📝happy manifesting!🌙
#manifesting#law of assumption#manifestation#loa#manifest#neville goddard#how to manifest#loassumption#wisteria#scripting#loa methods#manifesting method
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how to romanticize college and other helpful tips
hey guys!!!
this is actually an assignment for my social media class i am taking this summer, but i thought it would be a good idea to share how to romanticize college and some other college tips to go with it.
first...dorm room ideas
i recomend making a shared pinterest board between you and your roomates (if you chose to live with others) before you guys start buying your room decor.
you need to start the romanticization of your college experience before you even sit down in a classroom and start taking notes. make your dorm room a space you enjoy. so decorate it exactly how you want to and make the space your own. don’t be afraid to have your interests as a part of your room decor. your part of the room is a reflection of you.
here’s some inspo for you guys
i really like this one lowkey
now for fashion
if you haven’t found your personal style yet (me my freshman year of college) or you have a pretty set sense of style already, you need to be aware of what the weather is like where you are going to school. i go to school in northern indiana and had to learn (as a socal girlie) that sometimes you have to give up being fashionable when it comes to crazy weather conditions like extreme heat or snow (in my case). even when you have to sacrifice for the weather you should always try to look your best in your own style while still being comfortable in your own skin. i know the sweatpants are calling your name bestie....they do that to me too....of course they are amazing to wear to stay comfy, however, they shouldn’t be an all the time thing when it comes to outfits.
TRUST ME!!!
when you look your best you’ll feel your best and when you feel your best you’ll do your best. save the comfy clothes for long nights studying in the library. i’ll link some pictures to give you guys some ideas
i really like the earth tones and levi’s rn
also crop tops and baggy jeans are really cute
i have way more outfit ideas on my pinterest board that goes with this post
now onto school bags!!!!
this last school year i had a tendency of carrying both a backpack and a tote bag. i would keep essentials like my wallet, keys, water bottle, the book i was reading at the time, and my makeup bag in my tote bag and leave all my school stuff in my backpack. for this coming school year i found something super awesome it’s the green wellness tote by typo. this thing is GIANT and can carry everything i would carry in both my tote bag and backpack while still keeping everything organized. it has huge front pockets and a removable pouch on the inside of the bag so i can hold everything.
i mean EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!
i’ll drop the link in the link section of this post.
but you can’t forget to personalize your bag. i use pins, pocket bac holders from bath and body works, and keychains to personalize my bag and put my own unique twist. trust me when i say having hand sanitizer on hand is extremely important so make sure you’re carrying yours at all times. i personally like the bath and body works hand sanitizers and the pocket bac holders for them are super cute. they actually just put their fall and halloween stuff out and i’m a fiend for that kind of stuff.
now for some study tips
first things first you are going to college to get your degree so studying is important!! i feel like the best way to study is to make it fun for yourself. have your study spot, have a couple good playlists, noise canceling headphones, a study timer app, and get to it. i’ve found for me using apps like notion (you get the unlimited version of notion free if you use a school email) to take quick notes in class and then physically writing them out and make them as aesthetically pleasing as possible. writing pretty notes makes you want to look at them more and actually study from them.
a study timer is extremely important!!! especially if you keep a study planner/journal like i do. it spaces out your study time and holds you responsible for your studying. i use the pomodoro method and am an active user of the forest app. if you guys want to be friends on forest i’ll put my friend code in the link section of this post. it’s honestly such a helpful tool for holding yourself accountable. if you don’t want to purchase an app there are a ton of free versions of the app out there that work just as well as forest.
links
wellness tote: https://cottonon.com/US/wellness-tote-bag/1684455-04.html?dwvar_1684455-04_color=1684455-04&cgid=tote-bags&originalPid=1684455-04#start=4&sz=60
pinterest for this post: https://www.pinterest.com/rossejamss/get-into-it-yuh-college-edition/
study playlist 1: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/35MCxZePcfFVSBzlvDRynv?si=01af4965047344a4
study playlist 2: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3vCbBiJYlVROLcrbLypgUZ?si=2dd3ac8e5e2f463f
study playlist 3: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0T2AhgtKGHzyZ3qjTWdSBg?si=260eefe677b9498e
forest friend code: 6H4PQVYSG
#student#study aesthetic#study#study inspiration#study motivation#college#studyblr#aesthetic#fashion#indie girl#tote bag#tote bag study#totebag#college student#college advice#pomodoro#forest app#academia aesthetic#indie academia#hot girl tote bag#hot girl semester#spotify#study playlist#hot girls study
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Ofc we still want to read your stuff! I've reread Strictly Platonic so many times, its such a comfort fic for me. And I love OBS and can't wait for more of that story to unfold. Also you definitely do not suck at writing smut fwiw, but I am also happy to read a fic without it if you feel like you need a break from writing it.
What are you feeling like writing lately? There are lots of summaries of your WIPs on your ML that sound so interesting, but not sure what's most recently inspiring you. I just love the way you develop your characters and how you write angst especially, I always feel the pain in your fics so deep in my heart.
:(( honestly i have a really bad habit that i think often facilitates my own downward spiral. whenever i’m stumped, i don’t turn to myself or my past fics for inspo but i look at other people and then i start comparing myself to them and think “why can’t i write like that” and it just makes it so much worse 🥴 i have a specific list of writers whose fics i would reread whenever i’m in a block and now that i’m in another fandom, the list doubled in size and it’s just a whole thing askdhfkdl
the past few months i’ve been posting a lot of short, fluffy-ish drabbles over at @withleeknow but now i want to get back into writing stuff with more substance. thank you for mentioning the angst 🥺 i personally think that’s what i’m the most decent at writing. sometimes when i’m feeling emo i don’t even write it down in a journal, i just open a fic doc and pour it all out there so i guess a lot of the stuff you see in my fics comes directly from me and not as something written just for the characters yk :))
a lot of the unpublished fics that you see on my mlist are partially written, idk why i just never got around to finishing them. but i’m trying to go through them one by one bc i don’t want to abandon them, and also to try and pump some life back into the blog maybe
idek if this makes sense but yeah that’s kinda where we are rn. thank you for the message i appreciate it 🥺
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i literally almost never outline my fics (or academic writing) bc for some reason i hate doing it so i just write as i go and hope for the best. also having a fic epiphany is so so real omg and then having to rework your fic to fit whatever you come up with </3
and yeah it’s totally not a bad thing to start in the middle, i just am too unmotivated to figure out a beginning or an ending. i don’t really give myself time to write either so i only do so when i get spurts of inspiration at like 2 am (the amount of wips i have is insane) and then i end up losing interest in whatever i’m writing for so they never end up finished :’)
love a multifaceted man <333 i had 2 fic ideas for him last night so i will try to work on those :) one of them is just one piece of dialogue so far though lmao but it’ll definitely be a heartfelt love confession with lots of yearning!!!
i always outline my fics it just depends on how detailed that outline is lmao. for my first series i had about 10 bullet points, for ehfar i had about 3 pages of bullet notes and then for eiiky i had like. 10 pages so it is what it is!! and i never outline my one shots i just live life and hope for the best
real, i like to think by now ive gotten a reputation of someone who doesn't update often so i just chill and write and post when i want. it doesnt help that im in journalism so sometimes i just do not have the energy to write creatively lol
i had a one line of dialogue idea once and now it's 40k words long so i believe in you!! good luck w your inspo and your nikolai loving
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2023 Wrap-up
Wow! Last year 2023 is over and I managed to post a total of 13 fanfics :0 (here I'm only counting the major posts and not smaller things)
Catboys in the House (CITH), chapter 2: Xiao joins the household!
Assembled Love, chapter 1: Perfect Sister.
Assembled Love, chapter 2: Perfect Brother.
CITH: What they do when you're down/stressed and can't sleep.
Assembled Love, chapter 3: Perfect Party.
Assembled Love, chapter 4: Perfect Night.
CITH: The Catboys' Dreams.
A Real Man.
What part of me wasn't good enough? :(
Bunny Boy Kuni!
Do they fuck or do they make love?
CITH: Catboyfriends and penetration.
Broken Beyond Repair.
This is definitely not as many as I wanted to post, but now that I actually counted them, it's more than I thought I had posted! I kinda achieved my goal of posting once a month even if I posted thrice one month and then disappeared for like two months several times.
My drafts and my Google Drive are filled with lots and lots of content that I'm struggling to finish. I've always struggled to give endings to the things I write :/ I'm working on that. I have tons and tons of unfinished Venti fics from when he was my top husbando before our divorce and my marriage with Kuni that I'm unable to finish. As you may have noticed if you took a look at the list of fics posted during the year, now I'm unable to write about characters other than Kuni bc he has me in the strongest chokehold I've ever experienced in my life :D I have to ask him for permission to work on those old fics and he always grabs me by the neck and says nope, focus on me :3 I have the same situation as this person here :3
As I said here, if I come to the conclusion that I won't be able to come up with an ending for a fic, I'm gonna post it unfinished like that Albedo fic I promised I was gonna post unfinished but suddenly got inspo, continued it and guess what, I'm stuck again :3 Gonna post it this month or next up to where I can. And in the unlikely case that I come up with an ending for fics that I post unfinished, I will eventually update them.
Well um, up to here this post was informative about the state of the blog. From here onwards it's more of a personal journal and self-reflection of mine? Just some things for me to remember so feel free to skip it cuz it'll probably be a wall of text. Things I wanna tackle to be able to finish more fics. I have many issues that prevent me from writing, but the worst one by far is toxic perfectionism.
I’ve talked about this in some asks I received, telling you about how when a fic becomes important to me, I get so scared of screwing it up that I stop writing it entirely. When something becomes important to me, I want it to be perfect and no matter how it comes out it never feels quite enough for me. This happens to me with many things in my life but it has also happened to me with Catboys in the House and Assembled Love. At first they were jokes, and side projects for me to practice my writing skills and try to develop the ability of building a linear story with multiple characters. But I fell so in love with them that I wanted to love the next chapters as much as I loved the previous ones and that created a lot of pressure on me.
So basically I’m trapped in a cycle of: oh I had an idea I feel so passionate about—>I wrote it —--> I loved it —--> it’s unfinished —--> oh no I’m not nearly as inspired as I was back then, what if I ruin it? What if I don’t recreate the same vibes I had when I started it? What if I regret the words I use? What if I regret the changes in the plot? What if I post it and then I hate it because I don’t like it nearly as much as the first chapter I loved so much? What if…? —-> I don’t dare continue it just to ruin it. Let’s write something new that doesn’t make me feel pressured and has vibes I’m actually feeling rn —-> back to step one. Repeat.
And I’m tired of that. I wanna break that vicious cycle. It’s hard bc whenever I try to stand up to the toxic perfectionism reminding myself of the things I talked about with one of the people who asked me when tf is Assembled Love getting an update “it doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be done” then the number 1 problem, the ocd, gets out of control. So they have to be tackled at the same time with different techniques.
Some people have asked me when are we getting more updates of Assembled Love and Catboys in the House and believe me, no one wants to read those updates more than I do 😭 I have the plot for like 10 chapters already decided and I just can’t come up with the inspo to put it into the right words 😭
I wanna tell you about how Xiao woke up tied up to a chair after reader and Venti found him turned into a human in their house, about how Albedo, Kazuha, and Scara got into the house as well, how Kazuha used to live in a refuge for hybrids ran by Yoimiya and Ayaka, about Zhongli being reader’s boss and how he has a foxboy boyfriend named Childe…I wanna tell you about how reader and Kuni have this annoying sexual tension they can’t get rid of in Assembled Love but they can’t do anything about it because they’re frenemies and because it would make their moms insanely mad at them, about how mysterious Keqing dad is, about how Venti has a secret identity going on at school, about a super handsome redhead quarterback from another school who wants to sweep reader off her feet…but the words just won’t come. You know what comes? Anxiety and ocd, those come in tons.
But I have a set of tools I intend to use to overcome those obstacles and write my stories because I’m the one who wants to read them the most.
The cct techniques against ocd
A shit ton of phrases and posts from other writers that rationalize the problem of toxic perfectionism when it comes to writing and make valid points about why it’s important to screw it and just write anyway. I have a full pinterest album full of them, but my favorite out of all of them is this one:
And I wanted to share it here because I think it applies to everything, not just to writing. I think life in itself is our box and we can do things every day to add sand to it, little by little, like the efforts of an ant, and someday that everyday effort will make something great that will enable you to build something great :3 I think this analogy is especially good for people struggling with ocd, depression, trauma, etc.
And it sucks. Cuz I swear I get the best ideas for dialogues in the middle of a shower or having a chat with my bf and then when I try to remember it to write it down it's gone. But well, I wanna give the architect writers tips a try, and see if I can write things that I enjoy re reading even if the inspo doesn’t feel immaculate. Because I ran out of my own material to read, and it hurts when I reach the final paragraph and I’m like…where’s the rest?? I NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED. And I feel like shit cuz I’m the one who has to write it 🥲
Jumping to another topic, they say that there are two types of writers: architects and gardeners. I don't remember cuz I read it a long time ago, but it goes something like this: Architects plan their stories in advance and build them carefully piece by piece, they are usually more prolific and finish their things in time. Meanwhile, garderners’ projects are like seeds tossed to the ground that only grow if given enough love and passion, and they need to be extremely lucky that the writer doesn’t run out of inspiration or feelings to get finished, and that’s why people say gardener writers almost never finish their stuff. (To exemplify, I rememner they say George Martin is called a gardener writer bc he said he has literally written 3 pages in the last 3 years or sth like that) So I’d say I’m more of a gardener writer but I also have this thing in which the writing I do that I love the most to re read was done in a weird state of being possessed by something (is that what they call the muse?) and I just had to vomit it into words or else. (I swear I don’t consume any substances) Those are the best stories. (The few things I remember of being forced to read the Illyad in highschool is that it starts with the narrator saying sth along the lines of 'oh muser pls sing to me,' becaise they invoked the muse to whisper the story in the writer's ear and I swear to god I used to feel like that. No I don't consume anything. And I haven't felt like that since the fucking step brother Scara cyberpunk fic. More than a fucking year.) And I think I’m not the only one who likes them, since my most popular post was one of those. (Yes, the godforsaken cyberpunk step brother thingy, you guys like the dirty stuff better than the fluff.) And that’s another reason why I don’t write when I’m not feeling possessed. But they also said that “inspiration finds you when you are working”. Never happened to me, it’s more like this:
Anyway, I’m writing this more for myself than anyone else (like pretty much everything that I write but nvm) because I don’t wanna forget the reason I started writing: to avoid forgetting, to relive all those feelings all over again.
Anyway thank you for reading and commenting my fics all over 2022 and 2023, I had an amazing time and I'm happy with how the blog is turning out. I had a lot of fun both writing and reading and interacting with other people. This year I hope to be able to complete those projects I wanna see finished!
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hello earthlings, bloggers and lurkers,
i’m not really sure if this is going to be a long winded post or what but i want to get it out of the way so.... here we go... i’m also a space cadet and bad at articulating and run on sentences and yadadaaaa yaddaaaaa yaddaa basically this is for me only but if you want to read it i trust you.
for years i’ve tried to keep a journal, but i’m simply too disorganized and my wrists are too limp to continue writing after two pages. I’m a digital girl - I was there for the beginning of dial up and unsupervised web surfing at a young age. It benefitted me in some ways like how to navigate photoshop by grade 6 bc of this Hilary Duff message board I frequented. I also figured out how to hack Runescape, Webkinz, Club Penguin and Habbo Hotel all around the same time. I’m not sure how beneficial that is to me now, but it was a pretty sick (and also kind of evil) feeling mwhagaaggahahahaha . ANYWAY this is all to kind of say that I think I need to keep some sort of log via keyboard typing bc I have so many journals half filled with ideas, scribbles, sad poems, happy moments, horrible recounts and encounters and to-do lists with nothing crossed off. and I’m honestly over it. I don’t wanna keep track anymore (read “I haven’t been keeping track”). Oh yeah, also the past couple years my memory has been fucked. Like, I think trauma is really catching up to me and I can barely remember my childhood/teen years. Slowly things are beginning to unearth and a lot of the time it comes from listening to music and movies I used to really like. Some hard and frustrating things happen to lil teen me and I really felt numb and just tried to forget, or store away everything that was fucking with me. Processing isn’t easy but it’s necessary lol who knew. I feel like my interests and ideas and creations are all kind of rooted in this naivety of my adolescences in way of reclamation. I feel like I’ve only started really figuring out who I am and what I like within the past few years. Some people have it figured out in grade 8. I’m fucking envious, but everyone’s on their own path and hey, I’m getting there. It’s hard being a kid and feeling like fitting in is what you’re supposed to do. I feel like it’s stuck with me for a long time. Maybe I hide it but I’m so self conscious and anxious it makes me sick. Again, another thing I’m over. Instagram doesn’t help. I want to be on good terms and have a healthy relationship, but that dopamine is so potent. It’s weird having an audience and I’m just a regular person. I hate to sound ego inflated bc that’s not what I’m trying to get to but I actually feel fucked having like, 1000 followers looking at everything I do. I feel judged. Maybe not even judged ALL the time, but you know you post one thing and people think they know your whole life story. I wanna share, but I don’t really feel good being vulnerable in a space like that. It’s like a weird high school year book with something cooler and better than me at everything as the class president every day. I know it doesn’t have to be like that - but it really can feel that way. I also don’t want to fully discredit the platform. It’s incredible to be able to connect with millions of different people on this type of network. It’s opened so many horizons for so many people, but aahhhh... idunno, i feel like you get it. You must get it right. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.
SEPARATING THE ART
FROM THE ARTIST
FROM THEIR INSTAGRAM PROFILE
So, I’m creating this Tumblr and listening to Lana fuckin del Rey all week. Watching teen movies for style inspo and creating soft cuddly weird little stuffed animals to hold when things get tough. I’m trying to get back to my roots! I want to eventually code my own website like the ones that I used to make on Piczo and I want to fuck around and I want to blog and I hope no one even reads this I just wanna puke words and have them make no sense to anyone but me really.
So this page will be for my thoughts and projects I just want a space to keep track of everything. I know some people are really good at making moves in silence but lmao I need to post my progress otherwise I’ll forget all about it or grow tired. It’s basically to keep myself accountable. I hope a few of you do come back to Tumblr and maybe some sort of space curated towards our work and feelings has some room to grow. Anyway i’m tired of writing now I’ll maybe edit this later I have no followers rn so not like anyone is gunna read this bye.
xo DINA
ALSO INSTA SUCKS ASS BC SO MANY PEOPLE CALL ME KATTY WHICH IS FINE IS WHAT EVER BUT MY NAME IS DINA (DEENA) NOT KATTY(KATTY) SOME PEOPLE EVEN CALL ME KATIE LIKE MAN. FUCK YOU INSTAGRAM.
honestly it’s fine but, you know... ?????
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does anyone know any good artsy bullet journaling blogs
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love me february 💘
this isnt really a challenge but just inspo to shift your focus <3
for the month of february i’m gonna take a break from this blog. imma miss yall !!
it’s time to take a break from all things law of assumption — and to just LIVE life for me ! 💞 i thought i’d share this with anyone who could be inspired to put themselves first, without all the noise that comes with the law buzzing around you.
sometimes when we are into the law, we may overconsume information. but sometimes we become these walking manifesting robots who spend 90% of the day contemplating or interacting with the law. but the truth is — we manifest best when we just let ourselves be, and simply enjoy life as it is ! this is because, this would be our natural state of being when we have what we want. the desired version of you isn’t learning more and more about the law. they’re joyfully, freely living life ! 🦋
and the good news is, loved, safe, and secure is our natural state of being ! we just have to remember it’s okay to allow ourselves to dwell there !
so the point of this is, to stop living life for your desires and remember/learn how to life life for YOU ! 🌷
“Take delight in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart.” psalm 37:4
in other words: prioritze yourself, and watch how effortlessly your entire world prioritizes you too 💓
the focus 💞
💙 practice the law freely. as in, make it part of your daily lifestyle ! embody who you want to be, within.
💛 do things you enjoy ! make yourself the priority — not your desires.
some things you can dedicate your time to that DON’T include consuming info about the law:
🌷 reading some new books ! (perhaps some that aren’t related to the law)
🌷 begin watching a new, fun series !
🌷 put time into your hobbies or discover new ones ! start writing a book or poetry, draw or paint or color, practice an instrument, learn a new language, knit or crochet or sew, look into the mirror thinking about how absolutely gorgeous you are, or anything else you enjoy as a pasttime ! <3
🌷 exercising (working out, going on walks, sports, dancing… maybe even try a new class or two !)
🌷 spend more time learning about other subjects you enjoy. maybe you’re into fashion or astrophysics or whatever else ! start learning more about that <3
🌷 establish a more pampered night and morning routine, one that keeps you off your electronics and allows you to connect with yourself as well as engaging in self care
🌷journal daily, about your day, what you’re grateful for, etc. (not related to scripting !) let yourself freely write in the moment.
🌷 meditate ! use this as time to truly get to know your inner world, beyond your desires.
🌷 do something you’ve always wanted to try but haven’t gotten around to ! <3
🌷 listen to some podcasts that are of your interest (and don’t pertain to the law lol) or try something totally new !!
hopefully, the practices you put forth in this next month become part of a wonderful in your lifestyle, along side practicing the law more naturally ! 🦋💘
also, my blog will be on queue for this month <3 see yall soon !! xo
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death valley (m) | part 8
summary: welcome to death valley. once you’re in, there’s no telling whether you’ll make it out alive. a summer internship turns wild with blurry nights of dangerous men, dirty money, and extremely hot sex. you soon get caught in a savage game of greed, power and obsession, only to find out that you are the grand prize
pairing: ot7 x f.reader smut ft: jin x reader, jungkook x reader, taehyung x reader
genre: smut. yandere. mystery. thriller. gang!au rockstar!au fightclub!au
wordcount: 9.0k
warnings: reader discretion advised. rough sex, physical roughness, sadism kink, pain kink, breast play, fingering, elevator sex (semipublic), praise kink, dirty talk, unrealistic endurance (this is one day LMAO), attempted fire play, bondage, guns, attempted shootings, knife play if you squint, spanking, degradation (name calling, slut shaming, being really mean lolol thanks jin), crying kink? lot of crying, toxic and manipulative behaviors, jin steps on you so there’s that, character death, heavy drug use, paranoia/fear, voyeurism, sex while intoxicated, me trying to put some humor where i can, sweet dom!jungkook, wild dom!jin, and a sprinkle of dom!taehyung ;) ALSO eyebrowpiercing!jungkook. very important.
a/n: s/o soowoozoo!bts for being my inspo.
part 0 | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | series navi | masterlist |
F L A S H F O R W A R D--
Goosebumps spread across your skin as the silence set in. The room was chilly, air conditioner buzzing in contrast to the slick humidity of the summer night waiting for you outside. The white light made your eyes ache, the walls were plain, dry, empty.
You stared blankly at the table in front of you. The sound of the pen scratching paper made you ache, remembering kinder days when you and Hobi would be goofing around and writing songs. How did you get here? How did you let this happen?
The previous night, you had dreamt of being at a concert, somewhere far from Death Valley. Losing yourself to music and molly, a soft pair of hands on your hips as you danced the night away, singing at the top of your lungs. Those same hands wrapping around your waist, nose tracing behind your ear to whisper to you how pretty you were. How hot you looked and how badly he wanted to tear your clothes off with his teeth.
You allowing him to pick you up so easily, take you back to his car where you scrambled into the back seat. Like children. The first kiss was magic, you were glued to him and could barely move on. He wouldn’t leave you for a second, he wouldn’t let you breathe. Your lips were hot on each other, soft moans and giggles. Swallowed smiles as you drank one another in, bodies like waves crashing against each other.
Hands wandering until he had you where he wanted. Where you wanted. He loved you down so incredibly good. How he was able to tear you apart while still being so sweet, you could barely even fathom. His teeth dug into the flesh of your breasts, fingers hooking around your panties.
His tongue ravished your figure. There was no part of you left untouched, no part of you that wasn’t completely ablaze with arousal. You would arch your neck back as he lapped away at the sweetness dripping between your legs, your hands combing through his wavy black hair.
His tongue knew where to go, he knew how you liked it, and your fist clenched as he fucked you with his mouth through and through. He always made sure you came first. Always. Every single time.
Whether you had mere minutes or long hours, he loved the way you tasted, making sure you knew that at every chance he got. Sloppy wet kisses traveled up your stomach to your chest, up your neck, hands caressing your ass, scratching your back, holding you close for a moment.
You were whisked away into heaven, just briefly, as his thick cock would push into you. Your pussy pulling him in, wanting to feel the familiar but oh so incredible stretch that only he gave you.
Taehyung. You sobbed as he fucked you, allowing him to kiss the glossy tears off of your cheeks as he rolled his hips, angling so perfectly to nudge deep within you. His sinister grin, his giggles, his chaos. You were in the hands of disaster but you never felt more safe.
Why are you crying dumbass? He would find your state amusing, continuing to fuck you, thrusts long and smooth. Quick, but slow enough for you to savor each second. Your whining lost behind the wet sound of your bodies colliding.
Where are you? Are you watching this right now? You’re not really dead are you?
Stroking your cheek, he leaned down to whisper against your mouth. The words he would keep on saying, echoing back to you. Play along. I won’t hurt you.
What exactly you were playing, you were unsure.
“Look at me” Your eyes darted up to meet Jin’s deceivingly innocent eyes. “I’m gonna ask you again, did you kill Kim Taehyung?”
You gulped, sweat collecting onto the cold handcuffs around your wrists. Jin glanced at the mirrored wall, before letting out a heavy sigh.
“It appears that Kim Taehyung was murdered about two hours before the party. We found your gun near the body.” Jin holds up the custom weapon Yoongi had given that was unmistakably yours. “Where were you at that time?” You felt your eyes getting heavy.
“I was” You lips were chapped, mouth clammy with a bitter taste. You looked him dead in the eye, stomach sickened by the amusement glistening within them as you struggled with your response. You knew he was getting a kick out of it. You wanted to spit on his face. You wanted to slap him, to scream, to flip the table and break out of the windowless room that caged you.
“I was with...y..” Jin smirked, leaning back. You cleared your throat, mind running a mile a minute.
“With who Y/n?”
You glared at him. He was treating this as some sort of role play. You felt queasy at the thought. Someone was dead. Dead.
“You. I was with you”
F L A S H B A C K--
The morning rays slid through the expansive glass wall of the hotel room, causing Yoongi’s eyes to flinch, squinting as they opened and took in the day that presented itself. He sighed heavily, the weight of the previous night still on his mind. You were still asleep, but he could see through the chaffing beneath your wrists that you were not comfortable. He took the leash and fastened it to the headboard, ensuring you had no escape.
Grabbing his keys, Yoongi quickly got dressed in a white hoodie and left the room. He needed to find out the truth for himself. He couldn’t afford to have you lying to him already.
It was so frustrating to him that you couldn’t just be honest with him. He had been immensely open with you even if he was not proud of what he had to share. Why would you hide things? Hadn’t he proven himself to you? Hadn’t he done everything to win your heart?
Yoongi sighed. His anger issues were core to his being. It was part of his true self, but he had spent years trying to become someone you would fall in love with. All he wanted to do was make home in your heart, but no matter how many of your suitors he ended up threatening, beating to a pulp, and forcing them to bail on you, there was nothing in his power that could tear down that goddamn Park Jimin poster on your bedroom wall.
There was nothing he could do to stop you from writing small fantasies in your journal that you kept stashed in your bedside drawer.
Yoongi would be lying if he said he didn’t come close to killing Jimin multiple times before. But he realized that would not have delivered him a solution. If Jimin died, you would mourn. You would still harbor that love for him and never have an opportunity to see what he really was. It was because of this Yoongi, with Taehyung’s helpful insight, had orchestrated a way to destroy Jimin in your eyes.
Jimin was then introduced to Yoongi’s two weapons of destruction, Taehyung and cocaine. Yoongi worked hard to build himself up as a successful music producer. He had to be better than Jimin, had to make sure he could offer you everything Jimin could and more.
To his surprise, you did move on from Jimin, at least the reality of him. But this fantasy of who he used to be remained pinned to your heart. After Jimin quit music, the mention of his name would still cause you to blush and smile. It made Yoongi want to throw up.
You had to see for yourself. Yoongi learned what it was that attracted you to Jimin and embodied just that. You liked that you had to chase him, you liked that he didn’t give a shit about you. You liked that he never noticed you and you had to pine for his attention. You liked that he was dedicated to his music, you liked the lifestyle he was associated with. You liked his lack of emotion and fantasized of him showing his true colors to you and only you, a sensitive, sweet, charming guy. Anger was not a part of this persona at all.
When he felt like he had driven Jimin crazy enough with the drugs, he decided to plant rumors on stan twitter that Jimin would be signing with his label. Using his personal relationship with the singer, he was able to sign him on. He conveniently then offered you a summer internship, knowing full well you would be coming for one reason alone. Park Jimin.
Yoongi wanted you to fall straight into his arms. He rented out every available apartment for the months you were searching for a place to live, forcing you to reside in his building. He wanted to win you over naturally. He wanted you to work with Jimin, hook up with Jimin, and end up loathing him. Loving Yoongi instead.
Jimin’s gang activity was getting on Yoongi’s nerves. Taehyung told him Jimin was in Death Valley, that you saw Jimin at Death Valley. When Yoongi heard from you, not Taehyung, that you had been kidnapped, along with Namjoon nonetheless, Yoongi had enough. He was used to giving Taehyung plenty of unsupervised jurisdiction, so Jimin’s accident was not a surprise to him.
But you sympathized with Jimin, which was not what he wanted. He then decided to take things into his own hands, threatening Seokjin into throwing the fight to leech Jimin of every cent he had. He broke into your apartment, fucking everything up so that you had no choice but to come to him. To need him.
And when Jin didn’t lose, he had no choice but to reveal to you who he was. Even after all his honestly, all his trust, you still lied to him.
Yoongi was furious. He arrived at Death Valley, using the front entrance. Pulling a mask over his face, he barged in, surveying the silence as a sign that the bar was empty. Through the kitchen he arrive at the back storage room, accessible only by key, where all of the surveillance had been set up years ago.
Monitors were spread across the wall, but Yoongi’s eyes narrowed in at one that was coming up with no feed. Your apartment. Someone had fucked with the cameras. Yoongi types away at the main monitor, enlarging your apartment footage and reeling back to find the moment the device was destroyed.
He sees Taehyung, whispering something to you. Next thing he knows the stream is blank. He grits his teeth, as all the pieces fall into place. He was a fool. How could he have been so blind? Taehyung must be in love with you. He must have, after watching you for so many years. Yoongi scowled at the thought of the ways Taehyung may have seen you, naked, vulnerable, ways that only he should.
He had trusted Taehyung. Taehyung had only ever shown interest in money and Yoongi thought that was enough. Taehyung must have fucked you over and over again once the cameras were dead. What a whore. It made sense then that he had cut the line through his branding on you. He was the only one who could have. He had access to you and he was psychotic! He must have forced you to lie. You wouldn’t ever hide anything from Yoongi, no, Yoongi was the man of your dreams. You felt grateful that you had him, didn’t you?
He tilted his head, cracking his knuckles before he punched the glass screen, causing the feed to go haywire and sparks to erupt. Kim Taehyung. You are dead to me.
Yoongi growled lowly before picking up his phone. “It’s me. I need to see you. Now”
-
Hobi kept his hand on the small of your back as he led you down to the hotel bar. The two of you nodded politely at the staff members who were busily preparing for the big event. The bar was empty aside for a few guests enjoying their brunch-time mimosas.
Hobi couldn’t really revel in the fact that the two of you were getting drinks together, almost like a date. His mind was too caught up in the initial shock he felt when he saw you tied up in his boss’ bedroom. He felt upset, but moreso he felt violated. He wondered if you were getting taken advantage of. Did he promise you a promotion? Was he manipulating you?
Punishing someone like that, Hobi was never one to kink shame, but it seemed a bit much. The name burned into your skin did nothing to ease his concern. Someone who was possessive, violent, impulsive. It reminded him of...
Hobi didn’t know. He didn’t know who gave him orders. He really didn’t care once the cash rolled in, but it began hitting too close to home. He wasn’t thrilled about hurting Namjoon, but two duffel bags of cash were enough for him to momentarily set aside his morals.
“What should I get?” You surveyed the small menu of cocktails. “What’s gonna fuck me up the fastest?”
Hobi snorted, “Tequila” He twirled your hair as your gaze remained glued to the menu. The thought of you being in danger upset him greatly “Y/n...when did Yoongi brand you?" You called the bartender ordering a line of shots to which the they glanced at the clock before giving you a weird look.
“The night of the rematch” You told him, reacting before you realized what you had said. Your lip tucked between your teeth as you tried to conjure an excuse. A row of shot glasses was placed in front of you. You took one, gulping it down before letting out a heavy sigh. The bitterness burned down your throat. You basked as the liquid hit your mind, easing you slightly.
“Yoongi was at the fight?” Hobi recalled the wild night that the three of you had been at Death Valley. It was the first time he ever saw the man giving him orders. The man was tall, broad, had dark hair and wore dark clothes, face covered in a mask. Could it have been...Yoongi?
“Y/n!” The two of you turned to see Jungkook approaching the bar. He had changed his hair, the blue swapped for a short black cut, and you couldn’t help but double take at his new eyebrow piercing.
You downed another shot, glancing at Hobi who had raised his eyebrows seeing the drug dealer. Jungkook gave you a light hug, waving timidly to Hobi. You smirked, another shot down the hatch. “Easyyyy Y/n” He placed a hand on your back as he slid into the seat next to you.
“The fuck are you doing here?” Hobi sneered. Jungkook rolled his eyes, used to the condescending treatment of gang members. "Didn’t you get stabbed or something?”
“I did!” Jungkook grinned, “In fact, that’s exactly why I’m here. I think I figured out who Mr. Bossman is, and I wanna fucking kill him”
Hobi rolled his eyes, “Oh really”
“Kim Seok-motherfucking-Jin baby. He stabbed me. He’s the one who showed up and threatened me to move out of Y/n’s apartment, so he’s probably also the one who called for the kidnapping. And he might have called for Jimin’s accident. It makes so much fucking sense”
Jin did what? There was not enough alcohol in your veins to act like you didn’t fully understand what he had just said. Jin had Jungkook move out? It wasn’t impossible. And that’s what scared you. You blinked at Jungkook incredulously, “But he’s literally a police officer”
Jungkook’s grin widened, “Exactly! It’s fucking brilliant. He’s a cop, he fights for the other side. He wins no matter what and can never get caught. No one would ever suspect him. Winning despite being threatened? Who threatened him huh? It’s a fucking ploy. You’re not dead and neither is he I bet. Kingpin. Boom”
You felt sick, knowing that Yoongi was not the only person you needed to be worried about. It was almost funny how blatantly misinformed Jungkook was. “Wow you guys are idiots.” You muttered under your breath, taking another shot before coughing roughly. Should I tell them? Why did Jin lie? Is this even the truth? Jin always tried to pin things on Jungkook, but you defended him. Hearing his words now made your head spin. He’s lying. Jungkook is lying. You wanted to scream, frustration flooding through your veins as you clenched your fists.
“I’m gonna tell Jimin and Taehyung what I know. They will give me so much money dude.” Jungkook chuckled, “And then they’d kill him, oh God finally”
Hobi pursed his lips, mouth feeling dry as he reflected on Jin’s eerie words before he shot him in the leg. He didn’t know where Jin was anymore, handing him off to be taken somewhere. It didn’t make sense. His orders were to seize Jin if Jin won the fight. Why place an order like that all? Why do any of this?
“Y/n, come with me.” Jungkook tugged at the sleeve of the oversized Nirvana shirt you had thrown on after your shower session with Hobi. You giggled, the thought of Taehyung coming into your slowed thoughts like a hurricane, tearing up any understanding you thought you had of the situation. There was only one thing you believed. Only one thing you knew with full certainty and it was all you could hold onto.
“Oh my goodness it’s Yoongi. It’s Yoongi. It’s always been Yoongi” The words spilled from your lips like the tequila that dripped down the side of your lips as you took yet another shot, giggling like a ditz. Jungkook and Hobi exchanged confused looks with each other, only making you laugh more. “I would fucking know okay!” Your laughs grew loud, “I was locked up in his fucking apartment and where the hell were all of you huh? Dumb fucking idiots!” You buckled over, laughing into Jungkook’s chest.
“Jungkook” Hobi sighed, “I gotta get back to work. Can you get her sober please?” Jungkook nodded. He held your waist tightly helping you stand, walking with you carefully to the hotel elevator.
The laughter wouldn’t stop. Passerbys shot the two of you dirty looks as Jungkook pulled you into the elevator easily. Through it’s glass walls you could see the midday skyline, where outside people hustled through life as if everything were normal. Must be fucking nice. “Y/n” Your laughs began to choke in your throat, turning instead to the sobs you tried to suppress with whatever will you had left.
Jungkook placed his soft lips on your shoulder. Hands sliding onto your waist as he peered at you curiously, “Y/n, is everything okay?”
You shook your head, the elevator door closed as tears began forming in your eyes. Your voice croaked, “I’m dead. He’s gonna kill me. T..taehyung is gonna kill me. I...I know he will. He’s everywhere. Everywhere.” You looked around frantically, suddenly feeling hyperaware of the security cameras littered throughout the public space. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone...I” You hiccuped. Jungkook pulled you into a tight hug.
“It’s okay ssh” He stroked his thumbs them across your cheeks, cupping your face affectionately. “I’m here aren’t I?” You sniffled, nodding lightly. “I got you okay. No one is gonna hurt you”
You stared into his kind brown eyes. You did not trust him, your entire body was screaming at you not to trust him. His fingers danced down your figure, freely gliding over your heaving chest, desperately trying to breathe with the fear that choked you from within.
You blinked at him, eyes glancing down at his pouty lips before finding his eyes again. “Y/n” Jungkook whispered, barely inches from your lips. “I won’t let anyone hurt you okay. I promise”
Fat tears rolled down your face at his words. Jungkook clicked his tongue, cooing at you as he continued to wipe away your hears. “Oh you poor thing” He held you to his chest, kissing the top of your head, before tilting your face up to his.
He leaned in, eyes fluttering shut as his lips landed on yours, swallowing you into him. The taste of tequila was evident on your lips as he kissed you softly, and you allowed yourself to surrender to his warm touch.
You felt heat pooling in your chest as his fingers trailed up your legs. He traced circles into the inside of your thighs, letting his fingers tease the edge of your shorts.
“Jungkook” You inhaled sharply, his hot breath tickling your neck as you tilted your head back. He licked his lips before sloppily latching onto your collarbone, sucking down to litter your skin with wet kisses as his fingers slid down your shorts, just barely so that he could roll his hips into you.
He pushed you back against the glass, fingers trailing across your bare thighs before sliding beneath your panties. Jungkook ran a finger over your clothed folds, making you clench down.
“Y/n” His voice sounded equally as desperate as yours, barely audible over the sound of his heavy breathing. “Fuck I missed you” You gasped as his fingers slid under the fabric. He pushed a finger in, allowing your tight cunt to accustom to it before adding another finger not long after.
His other hand slid beneath your shirt, pushing your bra up so he could run his thumb over your nipples, his touch featherlight, leaving you breathless. You rolled your eyes back in pleasure, bucking your hips up as he slowly pumped you with his fingers.
“That’s it baby, just like that” He whispered, lips pressing into your neck. You let out a shaky moan as his fingers quickened, pumping in and out of you as you latched onto his shoulders. “Look at me. Look right at me baby”
He brought his lips over yours, just brushing them across your skin so he could gaze deep into your eyes as you fucked yourself onto his fingers. You cried out his name as the friction began to overwhelm you. His fingers easing you right where you needed them, pleasure searing through you as he watched your every move.
"So good for me” He pulled his fingers out, doused in your sticky arousal before he placed them into his own mouth. Your eyes widen as he licked of every last bit of you and smiles. “You taste so fucking good baby”
He kisses you again, harsher this time as his hips roll against you. Your fingers grip his hair as he pulls down his sweats, allowing his cock to spring out.
“You want my cock?” He ran his tongue over your lips, tugging at them slightly as he stroked his cock. You could feel his hand moving between your legs. “You want my big cock in your little pussy?”
You gulped, nodding as Jungkook looked down, lining his tip against your folds, pushing in only slightly before meeting your eyes again. “So warm and wet for me, fuck” He pushed in further, groaning as you spread your thighs wider, allowing him to thrust as deep as he could. He stilled briefly, kissing you again “You take me so well baby fuck. So fucking tight for me. My pretty baby” He stroked your face, thumb pushing into your mouth slightly.
“Does it feel good?” He mumbled, pulling out just slightly before rolling his hips back into you. He picked up a rhythm, fucking you deep and slow, hands clawing at your breasts.
“Yeah...feels really good” Your eyes fell shut, enjoying the fulfilling pleasure of his movements. He pulled your shirt up, burying his face between your breasts as he continued to fuck up into you.
“Mmm yeah I bet” He pushed your bra up, allowing his fingers to pinch you nipples. He took one into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around the small bud as he began to suckle you, looking up to your face and enjoying your reactions. “You’re so fucking pretty you know that right?” He sucked on your breast harshly before leaving it with a soft kiss and moving onto the other. “So perfect for me”
His thrusts quickened, driving you up the wall as his hands fell to your hips. You burying your face in the crook of his neck as you felt your high approaching. “Jungkook...I’m...”
“Yeah?” Jungkook’s voice was raspy with lust, “You wanna cum baby? Cum for me baby, cum all over my cock, wanna hear you make those pretty little moans when you cum”
You cried out with every thrust as he pushed you over the edge, and you felt your pussy burst with pleasure as you came, the sloppy sounds of your arousal echoing through the small space. Jungkook groaned as the hot liquid covered his cock, allowing him to slide in and out of you with ease.
“There you go. Good girl. Good fucking girl, just like that” He gasped, feeling his cock twitch slightly, buried deep in your cunt, “Want me to cum inside you baby?” You nodded, whining slightly, “Yeah? You want it baby? Huh?” Jungkook’s hips thrust furiously at you, and he cupped your face, bringing his forehead against yours so he could look into your eyes as he came. “Want my cum? Want me to fill you up baby?”
“Yeah. I want it. Jungkook please,” Your whiny voice was enough to have him spurting through you.
“Holy fuck” Jungkook buckled over, holding you tight as cum shot out of him, filling you up and leaking out onto the floor.
He pulled out of you quickly, pulling up his sweats while you fixed your own clothes. Sweat painted his forehead as he looked at you, panting with a big smile on his cute face.
“I missed that” He confessed, pulling you back into him by the waist. He knelt down and pressed his lips on yours, letting his hands slide to your ass and squeeze them softly.
You heard a familiar ring as the elevator door reached it’s destination. You jumped away from Jungkook, unable to get far as the strong boy’s hold on you remained steady.
"I see stabbing you once didn’t really drive home the message huh Mr. Jeon Jungkook”
You felt goosebumps spread as you heard the sinister tone of Jin’s voice. He stood leaning against the elevator as if he had been waiting for you, twirling his knife around aimlessly between his fingers. “Too bad, I unfortunately can’t kill you yet” He turned to you and winked, “Both of you come with me”
-
Sweat trickled down from Namjoon’s neck, his eyes glued to the tattered punching bag in front of him. His muscles were still sore, bruises still spattered across his bare chest. He didn’t care. He was sick of feeling helpless. Under the dim lights of the boxing gym, he pushed himself, another hit, more force, ignoring the pain shooting through his limbs with every strike.
“Don’t overdo it” Namjoon rolled his eyes at the sound of the familiar voice. “Last thing you want is to get injured again” He turned to the sound of loafers echoing across the concrete floor.
“What do you want Yoongi?” Namjoon sneered. The producer smirked slightly, patting the punching bag playfully before pacing around Namjoon.
“I’m gonna kill Taehyung, and I know Jimin is gonna break hell. I need you to protect Y/n for me. Can I trust you, Namjoon?” His voice was stern.
“Man, fuck you Yoongi” Namjoon groaned, “I put my life on the line for you constantly and you still have to fucking ask? Promise me. I want out after this. Promise me a record deal”
Yoongi shrugged, “Okay fine. I’ll sign you. Don’t let her out of your sight.” Yoongi inhaled sharply, “And I swear to God Namjoon if you even think about touching her, you’re dead to me. And I will know if you do.”
Namjoon rolled his eyes, lips parted, desperately trying to catch his breath. “Yeah okay. Just get me my fucking record deal”
Yoongi pursed his lips, pulling out his phone and handing it to Namjoon. “Paperwork is ready. You have one job. Don’t fuck up again” Namjoon clenched his fist as Yoongi chuckled in amusement. “I have some business I need to deal with personally. Keep her safe Namjoon, please”
-
You gagged, a puke-ish feeling clogging your throat as you coughed out. Your head was throbbing with pain as you squinted against the gleaming lights from the chandelier above your head. Glancing around, you realized you were back at Jungkook’s place, large dark wooden floors adding to the ambiance that just screamed rich in your face. The plushness of his large bed evident beneath you.
You get up slightly, peering across the room where you see Jin handing a large duffel bag to Jungkook, whispering something into his ear. Jungkook nods eagerly, shaking Jin’s hand before exiting. He turns back to you, smiling as he realizes you are awake.
“Hey party girl. Recovered from our little day drinking session have we?” Jin chuckled. You scowl, searching around you as your throat desperately demanded water. Jin handed you a glass. “I just got Jungkook caught up, but you and I need to have a little talk”
You exhaled before emptying the entire glass down your throat. “I know everything” You scoffed in spite, “I know everything you did, you fucking maniac”
Jin smiled wide at the term, “I know. Jungkook told me you think I was behind all of the stuff that’s been going on, stabbing him and kidnapping you. I mean,” Jin laughed, a tinge of condescendence in his voice, “You don’t actually believe that do you? Like, seriously how dumb are these guys. At least you’re smart”
You frowned at his tone, unsure of how to respond. Jin raised his eyebrows at your silence before continuing, “Oh come on Y/n. Use that little brain of yours hm? What the hell would I be gaining from all this? It was Taehyung.”
He extended you a hand, helping you out of the bed and pulling you up to stand before him, “What did he tell you huh? That he’s Yoongi’s friend or some shit? Taehyung doesn’t give a fuck about Yoongi. And I know you know about him screwing over Jimin. He’s trying to take over both gangs, not just Jimin’s, and he’s been lying to you this whole time.”
The bargaining chip. “What do you mean?” You followed the flat echoes of his footsteps down the hallway into the same office that you had Jimin tied up only a few days ago. You suppressed a smile as you noticed the curtains were still torn.
“He’s distracting Jimin and Yoongi with you. He wants them to get up against each other so that he can sway the gang loyalties towards him by showing that their leaders priorities are off. Look here” Jin motioned towards a laptop on the large desk, playing security footage of what appeared to be Death Valley’s parking lot, where people were loading bags of cash into what could have been Taehyung’s car. “He’s robbing them. And you know what else Y/n? When he’s done with all of this, he’s gonna kill them both.”
No. No way. Betrayal stung you as you process Jin’s words, “You’re just a pawn in his game. You were bait. He just needed to you get Jimin and Yoongi to fight amongst each other. And you let him, didn’t you?” Jin chuckled, patting your cheek. “I know he kept telling you that you could trust him. That he wouldn’t hurt you. It was bullshit Y/n. This man only cares about one thing. Himself”
You thought back to the first night you laid your eyes on him, back when his hair was a faded green, his sweaty tan skin contrasting his dark leather jacket. The look of familiarity in his eyes and the gleam from his diamond studded watch. You were a fool. He strung you along.
“Where is he?” You growled, “I wanna hear it from him. I wanna ask him myself”
“Absolutely. In fact, if you’re up for it, I was wondering if you would be down to do another little mission for me” Jin winked at you. You scowled, folding your arms over your chest, “If we don’t kill him first, he’s planning on killing Yoongi tonight before the party. I know because I got him to let me in on his little coup” Your heart dropped, “You don’t want that do you?”
"No” You blurted.
“So let’s kill him first. Come on, let’s go get you dolled up for this party”
As you left the office, you couldn’t help but notice a familiar figure standing at the other end of the hallway.
Namjoon? Your eyes locked with his. He pressed a finger to his lips before pointing at Jin and shaking his head. What is he trying to say. Namjoon seemed to have a warning look in his eyes. You simply shrugged at him, before running down the hall to catch up with Jin.
Namjoon exhaled, watching from a window as Jin and you drove off, likely heading to the hotel. Looking at his palm he saw the way his nails left imprints in his skin from how hard he was clenching his fists. Namjoon wasn’t necessarily a fan of Taehyung, but he knew a thing or two about him from Yoongi. Taehyung would never kill people. He was averse to it for some reason, Namjoon always thought it was ironic for him to be a gangster given that quality. Taehyung could torture anyone, threaten anyone, but he didn’t have it in him to take a life.
Which meant that Jin was lying to you. Namjoon never liked Jin. Even aside from all the hits he had taken from the strong man, he always felt something was off about the guy. He feels uneasy about what he had just seen transpire, and decided to go find Yoongi.
-
“Do you want some coke?” You were in the middle of washing your face when Jin walked in with a bag of powder. “I could use a hit, I don’t know about you”
“Oh hell yes. Thank you” He poured out a line on the bathroom counter using a quarter, watching with a small chuckle as you inhaled the drug, nose pressed against the cool marble. You sighed, wiping your nose and flashing a big grin in the mirror “Damn. I needed that. I didn’t know that you use”
Jin bit back a smirk, “I do.” He poured another line on the same place, this time taking a hit himself. “A lot”
“Oh. Officer Jin is a druggie like the rest of us huh” You teased. Jin poured himself a gin martini, taking a sip, eyes alight with amusement. “Does that turn you on ever? Do you ever have a hottie cuffed up and they’re like please Officer does that..you know..turn you on?”
Jin’s eyes widened at you “Not any hottie, no. Now if I had you cuffed up saying that” He chuckled, pulling you to him by the waist “That’s a whole other story” You pushed him away playfully.
“What?” Jin said mockingly, “Don’t remember that night where I gave you the best orgasm of your life?” His traced his lips up your jaw, and you could feel his smile against you.
“Wow. Cocky are we?” You raised your eyebrows. “I’ve had some pretty good sex in my life. Hard to say if that was the best”
Suddenly, Jin pulled his knife from his back pocket, glancing in the mirror as he traced the blade across your neck just enough for you to feel the sharp cold metal glide on your skin, pinching without actually making you bleed. “Don’t even lie. You loved fucking me. Don’t you remember? How fucking wet you were?” His breath was hot against your lips, but it was the look in his eyes that had you weak in the knees.
Taking his knife, he slit clean down your shirt, tearing it off of you to reveal your bare chest. “On the floor slut” His whispered, flirty demeanor now shifted into something dark. Something feral.
You gulped, taking care to slide your bottoms off, not wanting him to slice them up before lowering yourself down onto the tiled bathroom floor.
Jin set the knife aside, pulling out his lighter and setting in on the counter before shedding his own clothes, even he kicking off his shoes. He lifted his foot, and you watched with a curious gaze as he placed his foot on your chest. He kept the weight off of you, much to your relief, and you couldn’t help but feel absolutely filthy as he rolled your breasts under the sole of his foot. You had never done anything like this. It seemed so dirty, but felt so good.
“Oh my god Jin” You gasped as he switched onto his other leg, taking his foot and shoving it into your mouth, watching in amusement as you gagged over his toes.
“Look at you. On the fucking floor. Naked little whore. Letting me do whatever I fucking want.” He removed his foot from your mouth, letting you catch your breath before you looked up at him with quivering eyes.
He felt blood rush to his cock at your expression. Licking his lips, knelt down, climbing over you to gently trail his fingers where his foot had been moments ago.
“And you love it” He sneered, letting his nails dig into your breast, “You love the pain don’t you you fucking slut?” When you didn’t answer he grabbed your jaw, pushing his fingers into the edge of your mouth. “I asked you a fucking question”
“Y...yes” You exhaled. You felt his fingers tease your clit, teeth tugging on your lobe as he laughed darkly.
Jin reached for the martini glass “Turn over” He growled. You found yourself with your breasts pressed flat against the floor, Jin’s cock pressing into your ass. You gasped as he poured the drink onto your back. “This is gonna burn. And you’re gonna take it like a good girl. I know you are, you let Yoongi do it so I can too”
“Wait what” Jin pressed your face down with one hand while the other grabbed his lighter, “Jin. Hold on.” Your voice rose in fear, which only turned Jin on more. He watched as you writhed under him, trying desperately to get away. “Jin seriously. That’s not funny”
“Shhh. You can take it” He cooed, flicking the flame on he slowly lowered it to your skin, bringing it nearer and nearer to the doused skin. You yelped as you began to feel the concentrated heat. Your entire body was petrified. “Enjoy it baby. You like it. You love it. You let Yoongi do it so why can’t I?”
“Jin. It’s not you, I'm just not ready for something like this please” Jin cocked his head aside in irritation, stopping the lighter before it actually touched you and tossing it aside. “I didn’t let Yoongi brand me he just did.”
Jin stilled momentarily. “And you still love him? Even though he did that?”
You didn’t answer. That alone was enough for Jin to rage. He slammed your face back down, the blow giving you a dizzying sensation that hat you getting wetter by the second.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He growled, “How can you love someone like that?” He pulled your face up, bending you back until you were flush against his chest. “I don’t want any of them touching you again. You understand me?” He let go, giving you whiplash as you fell back to the floor. “Ass up. Now” He spanked your ass hard, causing you to yelp. The stinging pain vibrated to your core. You couldn’t help but love every second of it.
Jin knew that you were scared of him, he could feel it. He could also see the way your thighs would clench whenever he did anything to you. You were his favorite drug. He was going to ruin you.
He grabbed his belt from the pile of clothes on the side, “Hands under” He demanded, rolling his lip through his teeth as you obeyed him right away. He took the belt tying your wrists to your knees under you.
He took a moment to admire his work, your shivering body all his for the taking. You had no where to run. He had you now. “Who gives it to you the best him?” Pulling you towards him by your thighs, he didn’t care that your knees would burn against the smooth tile as he lined his cock up with your folds. He spat down, a glob of saliva landing on your ass before he used his cock head to rub it all over you. He could hear your shaky breath, your whiny moans that made him want to fuck you even more.
He slapped his palm onto the curve of your ass, bending over your to growl into your ear “Filthy whore. You disgust me. You let them all just do whatever they want to you, don’t you have any fucking self respect?” He could see his words were hitting close to home. You pursed your trembling lips as Jin smacked you again in the same place.
“When will you fucking learn huh? This pussy” He reached his hand to harshly cup your cunt, shoving two fingers inside you without warning. “This pussy belongs to me. You’re mine. My cockslut whore” Taking his fingers out, he shoved them into your mouth “You taste that? That how desperate your needy little cunt is for me”
Your legs were strung together, making it all the more painful when he finally began to push his cock inside you, using his fingers to scissor you open so that he could get deep inside you. His length pushed against your tight walls, your cries and curses only motivating Jin to push further.
“Who owns this cunt huh?” Jin pulled your hips back, burning your knees each time as he pulled you on and off his cock. Your ass slammed into him with each blow.
“You do. Holy fuck, you do” You gasped, practically screaming as your whole body ached with pain and pleasure.
“That’s right baby” He pinched your clit, making you yelp as he flicked at it, pounding into your relentlessly.
“J..Jin” You mumbled, lips still half pressed on the floor, “Jin please. Feels good” Jin scoffed, “Gonna cum...gonna cum” You inhaled loudly as you felt your high approaching. Your eyes clenched shut as he edged you closer and closer, fingers furiously attacking your clit until he stopped.
You let out a loud sob as Jin yanked you up by your neck “You really thought I would let you cum whore?” His grip tightened, cock twitching at the way your voice sounded choking, the water streaming from your eyes and the drool at the edge of your lips. He kissed you, licking it all up in the process.
“Look in the mirror. Look at how pathetic you are. I want you to remember the only person who’s ever gonna let you feel this good” You looked at your reflection, seeing only your faces and the way Jin’s nails dug into your neck. He pushed you forward so that your chin was on the countertop. You coughed out, watching as he resumed his thrusts, punishing your clit with the jarring movements of his fingers.
You screamed, pleasure crashing over you in a wave of tantalizing heat. You gushed onto his cock, tears falling from your eyes due to how overwhelming the sensation was. Jin continued to whisper filth right into your ears but you could no longer hear anything. Your vision became hazy, not minding the blow when Jin shoved you back onto the floor and pounded you to his own release.
On the other side of the wall, Namjoon leaned his head back and sighed, glancing down to see his cock in his hands, now completely covered in cum.
-
Taehyung chewed on his gum nonchalantly as he paced around the luxurious hotel, checking out all the fun features. The pool deck was nice, the lobby exquisite, and his favorite part, the cafe, smelt delicious.
Yoongi had asked to meet him in his suite. On his way there he ran into you, and you knocked his breath away. He always thought you were beautiful, but tonight you looked elegant. It was such a surprising contrast to your usual getup, but you looked amazing. He was about to tell you just that when he finally registered the hurt look in your eyes.
“You liar” You slapped him with everything you had. Taehyung backed away in surprise. “How could you use me like that? Over and over again. I trusted you. You were really the only one I thought had my back. Without a fucking doubt” You lunged towards him for another hit but Taehyung held your wrist firmly.
“What are you talking about? When did I use you?” Taehyung looked around frantically, “Calm down okay, let’s go somewhere and talk this through.” Your eyes flared in anger.
“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down! You’re gonna kill them!” You screamed. Taehyung squinted, noticing the slight redness in your eyes. He sighed in understanding, pulling you by the wrist into a corridor.
“Y/n. Breathe. Tell me what’s going on” Taehyung attempted to calm you down but you were enraged. “And what the fuck are you on?”
Admittedly, you and Jin had ended up doing many more lines of coke, perhaps even molly, you were no longer sure, but you washed it down with the bottle of gin, finding it unprecedentedly hilarious that Jin liked to drink gin martinis.
“You used me! To fuck with Jimin! And Yoongi! You lied to me! Everything you said was a fucking lie, everything you did, every stupid word that came out of your stupid mouth was a lie! You just want power. You’re selfish, and...and...you’re gonna KILL them” A dramatic gasp left your lips, Taehyung almost laughed, “You’re gonna kill Yoongi. I...I can’t let you do that”
You pulled out your gun, cocking it and pressing it against Taehyung’s chest. He instantly put his hands up. “Y/n. Y/n stop. That’s not true okay you’re not thinking straight. Don’t do something you’ll regret”
Your hands trembled around the gun “You’ll kill them. You’ll kill them both...I can’t let you do that”
“Hold on!”
Too late. You pulled the trigger.
-
Hobi wandered through the parking lot looking for his car. His eyes narrowed on a familiar vehicle, thinking back to when he had loaded the drug money from the last fight.
So. Is that guy Yoongi then? The one I kept seeing? Hobi wandered over to the car. Peering inside the passenger window, his eyes locked on a small item on the floor of the car. He squinted to read it, it appeared to be some sort of credit card.
He stepped back, realizing what the name on the card was. He glanced around before taking the end of his gun and ramming it into the door handle. The door creaked open, allowing Hobi to swipe the card up. He slid it into his pocket, before hurriedly returning to the hotel.
-
Namjoon’s eyes widened as he watched you pull a gun out on Taehyung. He had been thoroughly entertained as you yelled and slapped him, knowing full well that you were high out of your mind.
Namjoon couldn’t understand Jin’s plan at all. He had eavesdropped on everything so far, as per Yoongi’s orders. Why would Jin ask you to kill Taehyung, why wouldn’t he just do it himself? He knew you would hate yourself if you actually killed him.
He had also been thoroughly disappointed at how easily Jungkook had bought into Jin’s agenda as well. The things people do for money. Namjoon sighed, realizing that he was pretty much acting on similar motivations.
You were ready to pull the trigger, and Namjoon was almost certain you wouldn’t do it, until he saw your finger begin to curl. He ran towards the corridor as fast as he could.
“Hold on!” He yelled, but it was too late. Taehyung’s eyes flew shut.
Namjoon blinked, not hearing the familiar gunshot sound. You looked equally confused, glancing down the barrel of your gun. Taehyung let out a shaky sigh of relief, sliding down the wall.
“It...was a blank” You mumbled. Namjoon rushed to your side, pulling you away from Taehyung. “What the...what was I just about to do?” His heart clenched as your lips parted in shock.
“Taehyung are you okay?” Namjoon asked. Taehyung nodded, clearly shaken up but managing to get a hold of himself.
“What the fuck is going on?” He growled, “Who gave her a gun? And who gave her drugs while she had a gun? Fucking hell”
Namjoon stroked your back as you let the gun drop to the floor, the weight of your actions finally hitting you.
“I’m so sorry. Taehyung I...” You looked into his eyes. Those eyes that always left you questioning what was really going on in that pretty head of his.
“Yeah. Jin fucking fed her some interesting stories about how you’re using her. At least I hope they’re just stories” Namjoon peered at him. “I’m Namjoon by the way, we haven’t officially met”
Taehyung shook his hand “Hi Namjoon. I heard you make pretty decent music” He chuckled ironically, “Y/n, I need you to tell me everything Jin said. There’s been some sort of misunderstanding, I promise you I wasn’t taking advantage of you.”
Namjoon made a face, exchanging a glance with you as you nodded slowly. Namjoon was not entirely sure he should believe Taehyung. He supposed it wouldn’t matter, when he knew that Yoongi was planning to kill Taehyung anyways. The more information he had, the better he could at least keep you out of trouble.
P R E S E N T D A Y--
Security escorted you and Jimin out immediately as the media broke into a frenzy trying to figure out what had happened. You had hoped your acting skills had convinced him.
After Taehyung sobered you up slightly, the three of you had sat and schemed. Using everything the three of you knew, you were able to figure out that it really was Jin behind Jimin’s accident, your and Namjoon’s kidnapping, as well as Jungkook’s attempted murder. He was able to do all of this using Hobi’s help, but Hobi seemed not to know that he was receiving orders from Jin.
The question remained how and why.
“I know you’re not going to believe me. So I have proof” Taehyung pulled his phone out, pulling up a recording of Jin tied up somewhere.
All I ask, is that when the dust settles, Y/n is mine. And I get to kill them. My way
You felt queasy seeing his earnest expression through the film. Namjoon’s jaw clenched, recognizing crazy when he saw it, wishing he could have knocked the guy’s brains out beforehand.
“Listen to me. This guy is dangerous. I don’t really understand why he’s doing all of this. He said he wanted to help me, but clearly there’s some other motive here. Otherwise he wouldn’t go behind my back.” Taehyung muttered.
“The only way to know what he wants is to see what he does next” Namjoon pitched in.
You glanced between the two men, feeling weirdly relieved that you finally had some solid answers. Having Namjoon by your side after so long was the best thing you could ask for at the moment, and you clung to him, hands wrapped around his arm tightly. He thought it was cute.
“Let me fake my death. Let’s see what he does.”
The drivers took you and Jimin to the precinct. You looked around for Namjoon but he was nowhere to be seen. Your eyes met Jin’s briefly as he signed some paperwork. He winked at you.
“Can I have the body taken to get an autopsy report please?” You weren’t phased by this. Taehyung had said he had enough contacts to make it truly believable that he had died. Jimin’s face was void of emotion as he watched the stretcher go past with the body on it.
You left the hold on his hand, your blood running cold as the body nears you. It was loosely covered with a white sheet, but the arm hung out limply from the sight.
That watch. That’s his watch.
Jimin pressed his lips to the top of your head, sliding his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him “You okay babe?”
“I...no yeah, I’m just shocked” You stammered. You looked up at him, allowing him to place a loving kiss on your lips.
Jimin felt for you, he really did. He himself was generally an emotional person, it was not something he ever tried to hide. But he always felt like his emotional energy was valuable. He didn’t feel the need to cry. Not for Taehyung.
Jimin stroked your back softly, “It’s scary, I know. I know baby, but don’t worry” He licked his lips, eyes briefly meeting Hobi’s from across the room. Hobi gave him a knowing look.
“Don’t worry. It’ll all be over soon”
ᐊ——[ previous ] series navi | masterlist | [ next ]——ᐅ
a/n: WOOHOOO. the fun is really gonna start now. did you miss yoongi? don’t worry, he’ll be back. drop your theories in my asks! who killed taehyung? what’s jin’s deal?
smut pairs are up for next week! poor oc, she really needs to eat some food. yikes.
see you then & thanks for reading <3 happy juneteenth!
taglist: @imluckybitches @gee-nee @missseoulite @hcneybees @kooookie @queenmasterxx @crustycaitlin @virgo-and-libra @un2-verse @winter-melontea @equivocacies @infernal-alpaca @shrimpmsg @meowmeowyoongles @rjsmochii @liltangerined @littlrmills14-blog @issysor @arandomblackgirl @adoringinsanity @giadalin @jeontier @kaithezaftig @jinssexytoe @nonnis97@minyoongiboongi @happygirl62304 @just-me-and-myselfs @purplepebbles @channiespup @lilacdreams-00 @kianam @thmrdrs @kpoppin-mel @namjooningelsewhere @lolzerss @planetsope @ohmykim @xyahrinx @bangtan-army @you-are-my-wind
#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader smut#taehyung smut#taehyung x reader smut#yandere taehyung#dom!jungkook#yandere seokjin#yandere bts#yandere bts smut#bts smut#bangtan smut#bts smut recs#seokjin smut recs#jin x reader smut#bts mafia au#seokjin x reader smut#yandere!bts x reader#btswriterscollective#btswriters#jungkook smut recs#taehyung smut recs#ot7 x reader#ot7 x reader smut#yandere!bts x reader smut#bts smut central#bts smut net#yandere bts fics#jungkook fic recs#taehyung fic recs#dom!taehyung
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BROKEN ROAD MASTERPOST
BROKEN ROAD ON AO3
Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Additional Tags: Episode: s14e13 Lebanon, Fix-It, John Winchester’s A+ Parenting, Dean Winchester-centric, Past Child Abuse, Apocalypseverse Michael Possessing Dean Winchester, Ma'lak Box (Supernatural), Asexual Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Former Prostitute Dean Winchester, Trauma, Suicidal Thoughts, Healing, Dean Winchester’s 40th Birthday, dumb fucking car metaphors because dean’s a driving gay
A 14.13 Lebanon rewrite. When Dean uses a wish-granting pearl to try and kill the archangel Michael before he can escape the cage in Dean’s head, they instead wind up with a newly-resurrected John Winchester.
It’s been more than a decade since John died, and a lot has changed: Mary is alive, Sam and Dean have what passes for a proper home in the Men of Letters Bunker, and they’re living with angels. John doesn’t know angels are real, he doesn’t know about the fragile new relationship between Dean and Castiel, and most of all, he doesn’t know that Dean said yes to Michael, or that Dean’s plan to defeat Michael would send him to a fate worse than death.
Now Dean must contend with both his father asking questions he can’t answer, and his loved ones learning about the darker truths of his childhood, all while constantly battling the archangel trapped inside him. But Dean coming to terms with his history may be the difference between this being the beginning of a journey—or the end.
CHAPTERS ON TUMBLR: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.
TUMBLR LINKS:
#brcu - “broken road cinematic universe,” for fanworks & inspo posts
#br meta - for posts talking about the fic/subjects related to the fic
#br memes - for shitposts.
#broken road - general story tags that contains all of the above and then some, including excerpts/rough drafts, general liveblogging, & asks.
FANWORK/”INSPIRED BY” LINKS:
i do have the inspo tag, but the fact that i have fanworks is so cool i wanted to make a special section for them. if you said publicly or privately that your thing was inspired by my thing, i am adding you here to give you publicity and TUMBLR FAME, but if you don’t want your link here, just hit me up and no hard feelings! if you make a thing inspired by my thing, or if i forgot to add your thing (or, much more likely, if i didn’t want to be utterly presumptuous by assuming it was for me 👉👈), you can also send me a message about that. i’m happy to have as many links here as possible!
broken road: a john & dean playlist (this one’s mine, there’s a version on both 8tracks & spotify)
john & dean graphic to submersed’s “hollow” (also mine)
graphic about the winchesters cleaning up messes (mine again)
fic cover art by @bibophilophile
chapter 1 graphic of the john/mary reunion by @thrivenotsurvive
fanart/graphic set of the dean/cas moments from chapters 2 & 3 by @bibophilophile
tragedynatural edits by @brownbicon - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7
improved table initials from chapter 4 by @theprincessandthepie
chapter 4 dean/cas fanart by @bibophilophile
chapter 6 fanart by @adventures-of-the-space-gay
post-chapter 6 dean & cas hug by @skepticalfrog
post-chapter 6 dean & everyone hugs by @skepticalfrog
don’t be him, a fanvid about breaking the cycle of abuse by @theprincessandthepie
i love you to the exclusion/inclusion of all others: john/mary and dean/cas graphics by @alittlescaredoflife
john & dean graphic to sinéad morrissey's “forgive us our trespasses” by @tiarnanafainne
graphic to wye oak’s “mary is mary” by @renegademp3
STUNNING visual art of the dean/cas chapter 3 sex scene by ultimate destiel stan @maulthots
an absolutely breathtaking PHYSICAL COPY of broken road by @runawaymarbles
META LINKS:
yes, i have a meta tag, i just thought these were of particular relevance:
family dinner from hell seating arrangements
john’s journal, especially flagstaff, and also john abusing dean into unwittingly perpetuating sam’s abuse
mission statement of broken road
john abused both dean AND sam, just differently + related post by @alittlescaredoflife
who had to grow up faster, sam or dean?
the tragedy of john is that he ISN’T 100% evil, and he USED to be a good person (related post 1, related post 2, related post 3)
john & dean & “why does he do that?” by lundy bancroft
how john gave dean his voice back
who really owns the impala and why dean can’t drive it when john’s around
even after everything, sam was still prepared to be kind to his father (feat. @maulthots)
sam hasn’t actually forgiven john, he’s “gray rock”ing
mary as john’s impulse control / the subtle way john unknowingly shifts blame to mary / john’s love for mary makes him into both the best and the worst version of himself
john & cas parallels / john & cas have the exact same opinion of one another (part 1, part 2)
how sexually violent language ties into john’s abuse
“warts and all”
the number nine
broken road’s creation process, start to finish
what happens after the end
...and that’s all she wrote! it’s been a real trip - thank you all so, so much for riding shotgun with me <3
[spn masterpost]
#and last but not least...finally#my browser fucking DELETED THIS!!!#last night#after like an hour of link-finding#i had to do it all over again. hellsite.#anyway!!!#liz makes stuff#liz writes#liz's spn stuff#broken road#broken road masterpost
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hello! my name is genevieve, and welcome to my studyblr!
i’ve had at least one other studyblr, but then covid hit and just threw it all out of whack. so here i am, trying to better myself for literally my last semester of college!
anyway, a little bit about me:
i’m twenty-one years old
my pronouns are she/they
i’m a senior studying media advertising
i want to work in copywriting or digital advertising!
i’m minoring in psychology and getting a certificate in the history of rock n roll
enfp
2w3
taurus sun, sag moon, scorpio rising
some of my interests:
spirituality, witchcraft, and astrology
social media (specifically tiktok and twitter oops)
journaling
doing makeup (i used to work at a makeup store!)
reading
watching new films and shows
musical theatre
podcasts!!! gimme recs!!
coffee
baking
chill gaming
what to expect here!
lots of reblogs and inspo
next semester you can expect a lot of thesis/capstone stuff
a healthy mix of journaling and studying
logging books i finish!
study playlists
maybe some langblr stuff? trying to get back into learning spanish after taking it for almost 5 years!
hopefully finishing my journal i’ve had since 2018
prompts and challenges, etc
a little of everything!
since i am going into senior spring, i think i’ll be focusing more on making things efficient but maybe less aesthetically pleasing? i think that after christmas i’ll get some new stationary and new bujo supplies so maybe expect a haul in january!
anyway, thanks for reading this far!! i would love to get to know some of y’all so let’s be moots and hype each other up! bonus points if you’re also an advertising/communications/media student!
<3, genevieve
#productivepeach#studyblr#studyblr intro#studyinspo#studyblr introduction#studyblr intro post#advertising student#advertising studyblr#media studyblr#media studies#media student#communication studyblr#communication studies#new studyblr#bujoblr#bujo#bujo community#study blog#college studyblr#studyspo#studyspiration#new study blog#university studyspo#university studyblr#lets be moots#lets be besties#study aesthetic
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I would love to know about your bullet journal and writing trackers 👀
I mean… are you ready for some super fussy tiny handwriting? Okaaaaay.
My writing notebook is more of a composite creature than just a bullet journal (bujos in their purest form are great for task management over long periods of time, so the method’s adaptable to long-format fiction or fanfic) but this thing also has my ideation notes, inspo dumps, notes on theory and craft, and serves as a commonplace book. (LORE, y’all. Lore and how I’m adapting it.)
I write almost daily to set word count goals and I’m usually working on multiple projects that exist in various states of in-progress or done, so I’ve got trackers to measure productivity, what I was working on, and how I felt (because self-care is critical and burnout is real, and I’m trying to get better at seeing the wall before I run into it full-tilt.) That’s just me. Some people measure their productivity in terms of time spent, or what hour of the day they found they were most verbose. I like seeing if the stuff I was reading was a direct influence on what I was writing at the time too, so that’s in there too...
But the big important stuff are the story notes that are sometimes open-ended questions, or little bits of images (because I do include pictures), or parts of scenes, or quotes, or a character’s deepest desires. That stuff? That stuff is precious to me. That stuffs puts flesh on bones and makes characters breathe.
The bottom line: you can try to pry this thing from my cold dead hands — if you succeed, I will haunt you.
Tl;dr: The raw stuff lives in this book. It’s a direct channel to my muse; it’s how we communicate.
[ID: Archer & Olive Midnight Moth dot grid journal, closed cover.]
The meat is below the cut. 😬
A couple of organizational notes which are "very bullet journally":
Because multiple projects (especially the multi-year manuscripts — you know the ones that take three rewrites and two revisions? Yeah, those.) will span multiple notebooks, I allow for a chaotic index to let ideas crop up organically (so I don’t set a certain number of pages per project; I just thread them together later by colour coding with little circular stickers: one colour per project. Blue is Crown of Horns, for example.)
I’m a fan of page flags for “active pages/projects” because I’m happiest when I can jump to an in-progress page of notes. then I just move the flag along to the next empty one when that page fills up.
[ID: Open book. Left image: Bullet journal style index with pagination. Right image: Detail of page flags and threading system.]
Dailies/Inspo:
The writing to-do list is kept in this book. I’ve got a separate journal for work/life stuff, but any craft-specific stuff lives here.
I’m a visual person, so printed pics and notes from accumulated web searches wind up in here as well (my citations in this case are in
Pocket and everything’s tagged. Usually if I’ve quoted published work, it’s got an inline citation because I dread mistakenly using a line of published text from someplace else.) The one thing I’ve noticed is that if I treat a page like (Kohlma) here right before I get to work, the prose flows a lot easier. I might be writing on a laptop but having a physical reference next to me definitely helps me see what the character sees.
[ID: Open book. Left: Dailies page with to-do list. Opposite: Example inspo page with four pictures of Kohlma, Star Wars universe, with notes on the setting as it was used in the Star Wars: Bounty Hunter game.]
The Little Tracker of Horrors:
So this is what you asked about, anon, right? This is the scary stuff right here. This is the proof that I'm doing the work, save for the four days where I didn't.
Left: Writing stats from July. Right: Reading stats for July.
I took Stephen King's words to heart: you want to write? You gotta read. And you have to do ample amounts of both to get better at the first.
[ID: Open book. Left page: Writing stats for July. Right page: Reading stats for July.]
One thing that's missing in this thing is a "what did I actually post publicly" because I don't remember what was updated or how big those updates were.
Sometimes posting a chapter is a measure of success, and sometimes doing the work is where it's at so I can get ahead in the draft. I'm definitely hanging out in the latter bucket now.
Hope this helps. ☺️
#dat ask#bullet journal#bujoblr#writer's notebook#commonplace book#Kaweco AL Violet 2021 sliding in#archer & olive#writeblr
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Pretty Girl At Home Library🦋
As I’m sure we all can agree, all this free time we’ve had has had to be spent doing something, right? I’ve implemented an hour of reading daily into my self improvement routine. It’s added to my confidence, and my hobby list. I don’t think a girl can truly become her highest self without expanding her mind and the information she already knows.
Here I’m going to share my reading collection with you all and some of my favorites. All of these books can be found on amazon.com ✨
Beauty: all of these have taught me new techniques for my regimens. and have also taught what I need to STOP. so far my personal fave is the Bobbi Brown Makeup Manual. I’m super into makeup and cosmetics and this book leaves nothing out. it elaborates on skincare, tools, skin types, careers. if you’re even semi interested in makeup or esthiology, I recommend this. ♡
Inspo and Fashion: as a fashion student I’m always trying to learn techniques, find inspiration for looks, and I love to hear the journey of another woman who was once like me. all of these books have a great aesthetic, offer really nice fashion tips, quite literally are meant for fashion students, or inspire me heavily. The Fashion Design Reference and Specification Book is a MUST for anyone who wants to pursue a career in fashion. it’s literally all you need. it’s extensive but an easy read and any fashion icon deserves this book.
Self Help: in the TREND of becoming your highest self, a lot of people are taking in potentially harmful information, and focusing on the wrong first steps in general. in order to become exclusive you have to know in your heart, underneath the voice and dresses and heels that you are untouchable. it’s more than just dainty jewelry and Louis Vuitton handbags, two things I love. it is definitely easier said than done but to truly reach your full potential you have to try. getting to know yourself and integrating positive traits in your person should come before you listen to a YouTuber tell you how to dress in order to appear worthy a womanly existence. (in no way am I saying these women are giving bad advice, I watch some of them even, but they are giving advice on the additives, and the embellishments) no handbag, heels, or makeup look will convince anyone, ESPECIALLY NOT A MAN, to like you if you don’t know that underneath it all you are truly high value. your soul is high maintenance and cannot be impressed with bare minimums, not just your exterior or bank account. Je Ne Sais Quoi hits all facets of this, truly. it teaches confidence, personal style, healthy habits, charm, and just overall excellence. if you take nothing from this part of the post, please go buy this book. also Style Your Mind is amazing. it’s almost like guided journalling. it’s fun and easy but when you go back and read what you wrote, you learn much about yourself, even some hard truths. this is a crucial step to self acceptance and improvement.
Love and Spirituality: these books have honestly been maybe the most interesting part of my readings. this may be because I’ve never read books like these, and new experiences tend to stand out. these books focus on healing and channeling positive energies we all hold within us or teach us the tricks of the trade when dealing with men. I personally am a HUGE fan of The Power of the Pussy and Heal Thyself. the first one is a true no nonsense book on these men out here. you might even get your feelings hurt reading some parts. consider this growing pains and it’s also overall entertaining. the latter being a book heavy on spiritual routine and AMAZING recipes to serve your soul. let me tell you I love the recipes in this book, they’re so flavorful and feel amazing going down. it may be the placebo effect but I just feel like I’m doing my body a favor every time I read something in this book.
Miscellaneous: overall, all of these are really fun reads. if you’re into my aesthetic and want something light and entertaining, you HAVE to buy this Clueless book. I love it, I literally read it in my Cher narration voice. it’s a true collector’s item. or if you love astrology or are even a little interested but don’t understand really, check out The Complete Guide to Astrology. this is how I learned my houses and planetary signs. learning my planet signs was so fun and interesting. 100% recommended.
Extras:
Dream Girl Journey Readings
www.luxegirldiaries.com How to Find Your Signature Style
@babyphat05’s website www.sheissobougie.com features many printables and articles that are well put together and useful.
www.manifestationbabe.com Manifesting Type Quiz Results, Five Step Manifestation Process
#i worked so hard on this#books#reading#my posts#fashion#self help#spirituality#black femininity#beauty#quarantine#self improvement#level up
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sparks
summary: you’re a music journalist assigned to covering one of harry styles’ gigs, and he’s absolutely smitten with you. (part one.)
warnings: slight fluff, excessive liberties taken about music journalism; smut in later chapters, angst in later chapters
word count: 8.2k
inspo.: almost famous - cameron crowe; sparks - the who; hello, i love you - the doors
You’d never truly gotten a big assignment before - sure, you’d gotten a few pieces here and there detailing local LA bands that you knew would never live to see more than 100,000 monthly listeners on Spotify, and they mostly ended up buried by your higher-ranking coworker’s higher end stories on the front covers - and, for the most part, you’d honestly been fine with it. You’re fresh out of college, the newest recruit to your company and your colleagues who are sent out to tour with big bands and artists have been here for years, some even decades, and you suppose they deserve the opportunities more than you, don’t they?
You work your way up, your boss had told you the first day you’d started working, following him around like an eager puppy as he showed you the office. Eventually - if I’m impressed with you - you’ll get something big.
It’s enough for you. Small bands playing in hole-in-the-wall clubs and restaurants may not be the exact thing you’d envisioned when you’d set your sights on being a music journalist but it’s worked out well for you so far, hasn’t it? You’ve made friends - even dated the lead singer of an underground rock band who cheated on you hardly two weeks into the relationship - and your portfolio is slowly building, stacked with exposés and detailed recounts of small gigs that you’d watched from backstage. Eventually, you’ll leave this company and move on to something bigger, like Rolling Stone, and your career will take off until you’re practically the face of music journalism.
And, really, those dreams have carried you through college and the first year of your career, putting your all into every article and every piece just so your boss can tug you into his office one day with a rarely-seen grin to finally tell you -
“I want you to write an article on Harry Styles.”
You furrow your eyebrows, shifting in the cushy office seat that your boss has for guests in his office. It’s a facade that you’ve learned to acknowledge, because, no matter how much he makes it look like he appreciates guests in his office, you know he regards you as nothing more than an interloper, even if he’d invited you there to begin with. “Harry Styles?”
“You’ve heard of him, haven’t you?” Mike asks, light shining off his bald head, and your mouth opens and closes a few times uselessly.
“Of course I have!” You push yourself to sit up straighter in your seat, staring up at your boss with shock written in every feature of your face. You, writing about Harry Styles? God, you nearly want to pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming. “Write an article about - about what?”
Mike scoffs in that pretentious way that makes you hate ever having to talk to him, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at him. “He’s coming to do a few shows along the West Coast. You can go to one or two - talk to him a bit, talk to his band - you’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
“With small bands, sure - Tacocat and - and the Mystery Lights -” You swallow thickly, and Mike stares down at you in your seat like he’s unimpressed with your enthusiasm, or lack thereof. And it’s not that you aren’t executed - but, Christ. Going from bands performing in underground clubs to Harry Styles is like going straight from crawling to flying a fucking plane and you’re not sure if any of your experience with the musical locality in LA could prepare you for that. “I mean, that’s huge, Mike.”
“It is huge,” Mike confirms, crossing his thick arms over his chest, leaning against the desk before you as though he’s immune to sitting in his seat behind his desk like a normal boss. “Do you not want to do it? Because Melissa, you know - she’d love to, was going on and on about it last week -”
“No!” Your cheeks flush at the volume your voice raises to, and if you didn’t know better you could swear you see the ghost of a grin on Mike’s face. “I want to, Mike, I really want to - it’s just crazy.” There’s a pregnant pause between the two of you, your boss nodding smugly down at you as you struggle for words, before you ask the question burning the tip of your tongue with its desire to be heard. “But - why me? I’m sure you have people more qualified for it -”
“Easy,” Mike says, cutting you off and you’d be annoyed in any other instance but you’re too desperate to hear his answer. “Look, Harry’s a young guy. Younger than anyone else our people have interviewed - I think he’ll respond more to a young, pretty girl like yourself than someone older than him.”
Well, that makes sense, you suppose. The only coworker even close to you in age is Melissa, and she’s pushing 30 as it is. You’re 23 - graduated college just over a year ago, and by far the newest recruit this company has taken in years - but you had always imagined that was the main reason you wouldn’t get many big articles, and here it’s the main factor in you getting what will surely be the highlight of your portfolio once you apply to Rolling Stone. An interview with Harry Styles - God, they’ll probably foam at the mouth when they see it, and a grin spreads across your face as you think of it.
“Is that a yes?” Mike questions, blonde eyebrows raised high and nearly disappearing into his scalp.
“Of course,” you respond without another moment of hesitation, and you push yourself to stand, office chair rolling behind you with the force, and it hits the wall behind you with a soft thump. “Yes - of course - of course.”
“Great.” And he crosses to the other side of his desk, pushing aside a few loose papers and folders on his desk, and you clutch your hands in front of your stomach as you watch him, practically bouncing up and down with uncontained joy and fear bubbling inside of you. The last time you’d felt like this was the first time you got a real assignment - more than just ranking songs and discussing new album releases - and you’d been sent to a strip club to cover a gig from an up-and-coming band. Back then, you’d never expected to ever feel more excited over anything in your life, and yet, here you are, eight months later, fighting back the urge to burst into joyful tears. “They come in a week - I’ll send you the address - if you need help with your questions -”
“I’ll ask Francine,” you finish the same advice he gives you every time you’re assigned an article, referring to your oldest coworker - a little old woman who’s been with the company since the 70s. She’s always been more than willing to help you with your assignments but this - you need to do this by yourself. “Thank you so much, Mike, this is - this is great.”
“Don’t let me down,” he says, pointing his finger at you, and you nod furiously. “I’m trusting you on this - it’s a big opportunity.”
“I won’t disappoint you,” you promise, holding up your crossed fingers just to show him how much you mean it, and you know it’s the truth - you’ll make this piece the best damn one this company has ever seen if it’s the last thing you ever do.
~~
The night begins a bit - rocky, to say the least.
For one, you couldn’t decide what to wear, even after spending nearly a half hour trying on every variation of clothes in your closet and tossing them onto the floor of your studio apartment when they didn’t satisfy your needs. In the past you’d worn to gigs what you’d wear if you were a simple concertgoer, albeit a bit more modestly, but you can’t decide what you would wear to a Harry Styles concert if you got the regular chance to - and you’d never even dreamt that it would happen in the first place -
Well, you peruse your closet intently and land on a pair of patterned flare pants and a long sleeve sweater. It only seems fitting for the chilly weather outside, and you fold a shirt into your bag in case you need to change if it gets hot backstage. You’re not dressed to impress, necessarily - you’re dressed to get a job done, as Mike would always say, but how could you be expected to not attempt to impress Harry Styles? It’s a preposterous idea. You’re sure anyone would understand.
Journalism pass - phone - keys - deodorant - when you’ve checked your bag over three times to ensure you have everything necessary you finally leave, locking your door shut behind you and ordering an Uber to take you to the concert.
You hadn’t anticipated Uber and Lyft being absolutely overloaded with patrons due to the concert just a half hour away and you need to be there by 6:30 at the very latest to ensure you get in and can at least talk to Harry before he goes on - a quarter of your questions are geared towards how he feels pre show and you can’t get pre show questions after the show - that’s barbaric. But the minutes inch closer to 5:30 and your Uber driver is still ten minutes away and your heart beats so fast against your chest you think you might vomit right into the street in front of your building -
You’re in the car by 5:45. It’s not ideal, and you know you’re cutting it close, but hopefully you’ll be there before the soundcheck ends. It’s always an ideal time to take photos, watching the band warm up and check mics, and with a piece like this, you need all the opportunities for pictures you can get.
And traffic is horrible - you suppose that’s also to be expected, and your Uber driver curses in a language you can’t recognize as cars cut him off on the highway and if you were a different person, you’d recommend a shortcut he takes, but he doesn’t look like he wants to hear a single word come from your mouth. He had given you a dirty look when you entered the car, and that’s enough to make you shut up and pray for the entire car ride that you make it on time.
6:27. Mike would piss himself if he knew how close you cut it, and you hop out of the car with a speed you didn’t even know you could muster, pushing past the buzzing crowd standing in front of the main entrance. The hoard of people seems to have a steady heartbeat, pulsing with excitement much like your own, and you can’t help but smile as you make your way around the group, goosebumps cropping up over your skin as your teeth chatter in the coldness. For a moment you fear that the directions to the backstage entrance that Mike had given you were total bullshit - but then you see the door, blocked by a burly security guard that glowers at you as you walk up to him like you’re something sticky beneath his shoe.
“Hi!” you call, breath exploding in a white cloud in front of you in the cool night air. The security guard smells so strongly of booze that you need to try harder than you’d care to admit not to scrunch your nose - you cough softly. “Let me - um - find my pass - I’m with Autoamerican, the magazine?”
Fingers grab onto your journalism pass, deep within your bag, and you tug it out, flashing it to the security guard with a slightly nervous grin. All of the gigs you’d been to before hadn’t even had backstage doors - to get backstage, you just had to climb onto the stage and walk behind the wings - but this is a fucking stadium, not just a measly club, and a big one, at that. In your youth you’re sure you could recall your dad watching a football game that occurred in this very stadium - funny how life turns out, sometimes.
“Autoamerican?” the security guard questions, bringing his face closer to your badge as the wafting smell of alcohol increases, and he raises his eyebrows with a scoff. “Never heard of it.”
“Oh.” you pause, feeling your teeth beginning to chatter in the cool February air. You’re not quite sure what to say - you’d assumed Mike had called to arrange the entire thing, hadn’t he? And this is the time you’re supposed to be here - “well, we’re not as big as Rolling Stone magazine, but - we’ve done interviews with The Cure, The Smiths - even Zeppelin, at one point -”
Your voice trails off into silence. He doesn’t care. He’s looking at you like you’re some innocent teenage girl, trying to bribe your way backstage so you can bombard the artist and not a fully grown woman here on business, goddammit. And you’re not sure what to say - he doesn’t believe you, clearly, and you hadn’t anticipated that even as you listed all the ways tonight could go wrong.
“Look, kid,” he begins, and that really has your blood boiling, eyes narrowing to glare at him. “We get this all the time. I’m a journalist - I’m with the crew - it’s a bunch of bullshit. Now go to the front with your general admission tickets like the rest of them -”
“I have a pass - I’m a journalist!”
“Sure -”
“I can call my boss if you want proof!”
And before you can reach into your bag to search relentlessly for your phone to follow through on the promise like you intend to, the door the man is guarding suddenly swings open, nearly hitting the guard in the ass as it opens out. You take a step back as dim light from inside floods the darkness, and a man steps out of the doorway, his eyes darting between you and the security guard.
“Are you with Autoamerican?” the man questions, raising his finger to point at you as though he could be speaking to anyone else. You nod furiously, and you hold up your journalism pass again just to prove it. “You can come inside, then - c’mon, Steve, she’s got a pass, for God’s sake -”
And you can’t resist flashing the guard a smug smile as he steps to the side to let you inside, rolling his eyes so far back into his head that all you can see is a strip of white.
The man lets you inside and the door shuts behind you, and you nearly knock straight into a second security guard standing by the door inside, as though trying to stop people from going out. And, well - you’ve been backstage at more concerts than you could count but this is certainly bigger, better, bustling with people carrying equipment and makeup artists and more people you couldn’t possibly identify. You’re half inclined to reach into your bag and grab your notebook to jot down exactly what you’re seeing so you can make sure to include it in the article, but you have a distinct feeling you’ll never forget it.
“I’m Jeff,” the man tells you, already setting off through the people, and you’re quick to follow, trying to maintain your pace beside him. After a second of walking in silence you realize he’s waiting for you to say yours - you clear your throat and introduce yourself, and he sends you a smile. “The band just finished their soundcheck, if you’d like to have a word with them before they go on - what’s the article about, anyway?”
Jeff shoulders the two of you through lingering groups of people until you emerge into a small hallway lined with doors, and you can hear bustling noise coming from the one closest to you - holy shit, is that Harry?
“Um - just about the shows, the tour, how everything’s going. My boss basically told me to do what I want with it, so I’ll have a better idea once I speak to the band.” It’s the loosest instruction you’ve ever been given for a piece - you’d expected a clear cut outline - but perhaps with an artist this big, Mike trusts you to know what to write. “It likely won’t be anything too personal, but I’d love to get a chance to speak with Harry before and after.”
“Sounds great,” and you can tell he’s stressed - you wonder if he’s always anxious before his client’s shows, or if there’s something special about tonight that has him worried - and then he reaches past you, twisting the doorknob closest to you and holding the door open for you to enter before him, and you give him a gracious smile before walking in.
The room isn’t as crowded with people as you’d expected but they’re bustling with energy - a woman and a man, holding a guitar, lean against the wall with each other - two other women sip water bottles, laughing loudly amongst each other - another woman leans above someone, their body hidden from view except for their legs, covered in silk, floral printed pants -
Your breath catches in your throat as Jeff shuts the door behind you both, and the sound of the door clicking shut draws far more attention to yourself than you’d expected - it seems like every pair of eyes lands on you and Jeff, and you’d decided on being a music journalist to keep away from being the center of attention. You’ve always preferred being behind the scenes, a bit, at least until your career progresses until you’re a household name for music journalism, and now -
You feel very much in the scenes, eyes on you as Rhiannon plays in the background.
And then Jeff is tapping you on your shoulder, leading you around the room to the small groups of people lingering - you shake hands with Mitch and Sarah, the couple against the wall, and the rest of his band, and they’re so nice your smile feels like it’s going to break your face in half. You’ll need to interview them at some point - nothing too intense, and you may not even need to, if Harry’s answers are satisfactory enough - and you can already feel yourself building a strange sort of rapport with the band, their kindness rubbing off on you until you practically glide beside Jeff to the woman bent over Mr. Floral Pants, whose identity you’re fairly certain you’ve already deduced.
It doesn’t make it any more surprising when the woman steps aside where she’s carefully applying powder to the man’s face, and then Harry fucking Styles is staring up at her with a smile and an outstretched hand, suit jacket matching the floral pattern of his pants. His curls are carefully slicked back from his face, skin matte with the powder the woman resumes applying to the side of his face that isn’t turned to you, and you swallow your shock before reaching to shake his hand, Rhiannon turning into Hello, I Love You, playing from a source you can’t identify.
“Nice t’meet you,” Harry says when you’ve told him your name and the magazine you work for - Jeff had already mentioned it, but it is customary to repeat it to whomever you may have to interview. “Y’know, I love Autoamerican - told Jeff, s’the only magazine I’d let interview me backstage. Don’t usually allow it.”
“Really?” your stomach flips as Harry stops bouncing his arm, but it takes just another half second for him to untwine his hand from yours - you’re sure it’s because the makeup artist fretting above him is using her thumb to wipe off powder from his nose, but it still makes your heart thump faster against your chest. “I assumed most people haven’t heard of it - it’s nowhere near Rolling Stone.”
“I love it,” he insists, dropping your hand, and he looks so casual, as if this interaction isn’t blowing up your entire life, and you’re brought back to the many moments you’d spent as a teenager fawning over him in his One Direction days - God, this feels like a dream, and you’re half inclined to pinch yourself in case it is. Maybe you’ll wake up in Mike’s office to him giving you another shitty underground LA band to interview. “The interview with Sublime s’great - read it all the time.”
You swallow thickly, grin spreading wider across your face, and before you can open your mouth to tell him about Francine’s go-to story about how Eric Wilson had flirted with her while she interviewed them for the story, Jeff interjects - “Steve hadn’t even heard of it.”
“Steve’s an idiot,” Harry starts, and you giggle - his lips lilt upwards just a bit. “Hope he wasn’t hasslin’ you ‘bout it.”
“Just a little,” you say, hoisting your bag further up your shoulder just as the makeup artist drops the powder back into the apron slung around her waist, and her manicured nails tilt Harry’s head around for a moment before she seemingly deems his makeup satisfactory before leaving, sending you a tight lipped smile as she goes. “I’d love to ask you a few questions before the show - nothing too heavy - and then I’ll observe the concert and how everything goes, ask a few questions after.”
“Sounds great,” Harry responds, lifting his fist with his thumb up and you didn’t think your heartbeat could grow any faster or louder but you suppose today is just proving you wrong time and time again. “D’you need t’record m’answers? S’a bit loud in here.”
The truth is, you’re sure you’ll have this entire experience engraved in your brain for years to come - you’ll remember every word he utters for you until your dying days - but it is more practical to have a recording. You swing your bag off your arm and open it, digging through the jumbled mess of items inside until you find your phone, and you hold it up with a nod. “Yeah - there isn’t anywhere a bit quieter, is there?”
It takes a minute of bustling - Jeff tells you two instructions to go down the hall into another room where you may find more silence - and Harry promises, accent thick and eyes rolling, to be back in twenty minutes or less, if tha’s enough time for you, ma’am, and you try to trick yourself into thinking the burn flushing up your cheeks is due to the heat of the room.
Down the hall is another door that Harry opens for you, letting you walk in first. It’s a small room, clearly meant for storage, and he shuts the door behind the pair of you. There’s - luckily, or perhaps unluckily - just enough room for you two have at least a few feet between you, and he leans against the wall with an air of casual elegance you couldn’t hope to achieve as you scroll through your phone to search for the voice recorder app.
“Hope this s’good enough - is it?” Harry inquires, leaning his head closer to yours, and you nod. “Good - wish there was a nicer spot for you, but -”
“Don’t worry about it,” you interject, smiling up at him, and he grins back, and your stomach churns violently. You almost feel like you could vomit - when he goes on, you’ll go and have a bit to eat at the table set up with foods that Jeff had wheeled you past when you arrived. Eating seems to solve more of your nerves than you’d care to admit, and you feel like you’re nearly 95% nerves right now. Your fingers fiddle with the voice recorder app, adding a title to the recording while entirely too focused on the sounds of Harry’s breathing above you, and you can practically fear his eyes boring into your face before you press record.
And, for the most part, it does go smoothly. Harry introduces himself with an ease that only comes with years of practice, so much time spent being interviewed that it must feel like as much of a second nature to him as interviewing is to you. He’s charming and charismatic - flirtatious, even - making jokes and adding lines that you make a mental note to be sure to include in your final piece - whatever direction you go - and you can’t say you’re bothered by the way he leans closer to the phone, and thus closer to you, in order for his voice to be heard more on the recording when occasional noise bustles in from outside.
You don’t need to look at the questions you’d spent weeks laboring over - every question you inquire derives directly from his answers like he’s practically feeding them to you, and then you’re interviewing him so naturally, you could nearly fool yourself into thinking it’s an organic conversation between friends.
What’s his process to prepare for shows? Well, listening to Fleetwood Mac and eating finger foods, of course - he loves mozzarella sticks. Does Fleetwood Mac make you less nervous for shows? No, he doesn’t get too anxious before shows, now that he’s out of the band. He just loves Fleetwood Mac - he could listen to them at any time of the day. What do you think makes your solo career less anxiety-inducing than being in the band? Different fans let him be himself more. There’s less pressure to be someone he isn’t - do you think he could’ve worn a floral printed suit at a One Direction concert?
And, in the end, twenty minutes hardly feels like it, and by the time Harry tilts his head over the screen of your phone to check the time, you could nearly convince yourself that you’d merely spent a minute with the heartthrob, and it pains you to stop the recording.
“How’d I do?” he questions, cheeky smile indenting the dimple in his cheek, and you feel like you need to dip your face in ice once he goes on stage - your face hasn’t felt anything less than piping hot since the first moment he rested eyes on you, and his kind-bordering-on-flirtatious nature only makes your skin heat more under his gaze.
It isn’t as though you’d have it any other way, though.
“Perfect,” and you send him a smile. “I’ll watch the show - probably eat a bit, too, if I’m being honest - and maybe ask you a few questions. How many shows are you doing in LA?”
Harry reaches past you, grabbing the doorknob and opening the door for you once more, and you slip out with a small smile as he follows, face twisted in what’s clearly a show of being in deep thought. “Four. An’ a few more on the West Coast ‘fore we move out - reckon you’ll need t’come t’a few more?”
“Depends.” He looks at you curiously as the two of you make your way back to the room you’d been in before, and when you enter, it’s clearly in a more prominent state of preparation for the show - there’s more bustle and movement between every band member and Jeff, who looks entirely relieved to see you two come in as She’s a Rainbow thumps softly, volume clearly turned down on whatever produces the music. “If I feel like I’ve got enough material from this show, then that’ll be it - I usually just do reviews of specific gigs, and this is a lot broader - so I really don’t know.”
Harry nods, and you feel a flutter in your heart at how intently he seems to be listening to you, like he really cares, and you’re sure it’s a facade - he probably has a million other things on his mind as Jeff descends upon the both of you, whisking him away as he calls goodbye! to you - but still. When was the last time you’d felt listened to? By Mike, or by the security guard outside, or even from your own parents when you try to convince them over and over that you have a plan, that your degree wasn’t a waste of time when you could’ve been a doctor -
Well, Harry’s a gentleman, you decide, sliding your phone into the back pocket of your flares as you reach in your bag for your notepad. You can tell they’re preparing to go on soon and so you descend against the wall, grabbing your pen from deep inside the confines of your bag to scribble the essential notes of what you’ll need - it’ll make it easier when it’s time to write, rather than listening to the entire 20 minute interview again to try and find the important sections to include.
His responses to your question still burn fresh in your mind, and you began scribbling your bullet points on the small notepad in your hands. It’s decently easy to block out the chatter of the room you’re in along with its music, volume turned down further until it’s hardly audible, and it really is a skill you’ve mastered, though you suppose you’ve had to - trying to take notes for articles about gigs occurring in buildings so small that their noise reverberates off of every surface has made you a master in tuning out noise surrounding you.
You are aware, and acutely, at that, when the band starts exiting through the door beside you. They don’t look nervous, returning your encouraging smiles with ones of their own, and you watch them pour out the door with confidence practically radiating off of them. Well, that’s something to mention, isn’t it? Most of the bands you’d interviewed were practically vomiting with nerves -
Harry takes up the rear, fingers running through his slicked back hair, and you can’t tell if it’s a nervous habit or if he’s simply trying to let his curls fall in front of his eyes more. Jeff walks in front of him, giving you a smile as he leaves, and the singer stops beside you.
Your breath just about catches in your throat as you look up at him, and he’s staring down at you with a decidedly ambiguous look in his eyes, and you smile at him. “Good luck out there.”
“You’re gonna come and watch?”
You nod. “Eventually - I’m gonna eat something first, finish my notes. Maybe give myself a tour of the backstage in case I decide to include it.”
“Sounds good t’me,” Harry says, but he doesn’t make a motion to leave, and then his eyes roll down your body and is he fucking checking you out? Because - no - that’s crazy. That would cement into your brain the knowledge that this is a dream, and not reality, because there’s no fucking way Harry Styles is checking you out, eyes roaming from your eyes to your stomach to your - “I like your pants. Where’d you get ‘em?”
Ah. Of course. Fashion icon, he is, inquiring about the pants you’d chosen specifically because they looked like something he may like. “These?” You glance down as though you’d forgotten what pants you’d donned, as though you hadn’t spent hours in front of your closet envisioning what outfit you could wear to impress him. “I think they’re from Zara. Got them a couple years back.”
“They’re pretty.”
“Why, thank you -”
“Harry!”
Jeff’s voice calling from outside the room snaps you both out of your conversation, a slightly embarrassed grin spreading across Harry’s face that you’re sure is mirroring your own. His cheeks are tinged pink and he clears his throat.
“Sorry - gotta go - make sure y’try the mozzarella sticks, ‘kay? They’re good,” Harry tells you, and you grin, drumming the pen clutched between your fingers against the notepad in your hands.
“Will do,” you reply, and then you lift your hand and point to the door, raising your eyebrows with a smile. “Go break a leg - and then be ready to talk about it when you’re done!”
He doesn’t say anything else - just gives you a thumbs up and slips out the door, and you can hear his frenzied apologies to Jeff as their voices fade away, surely preparing to get on stage and sing his heart out and blow the fucking stadium away, but you can hardly focus on it. Because - God, you really don’t want to sound like a narcissist - but he was joking around with you, complimented your pants, and he did technically check you out, even if it was just to see your pants.
Was he flirting with you?
Surely not. No, that would be absurd. He’s probably just bored - maybe entertaining random people backstage is his way of dealing with his nerves.
That makes a bit more sense.
When you glance back down at your notepad, the page half filled with scribbled bullet points of things you’d sworn to remember, and when you click your pen open to continue your list, you find that you can’t quite think of anything else to write. All you can think about is the mozzarella sticks waiting for you, and then standing in the wings to watch him sing his heart out to a crowd of adoring fans that you, at one point, would have killed to be apart of -
You shove your pen and pad back into your bag with a determined spin of your heels. Food first - contemplation second.
~~~
The show is - needless to say - amazing.
You’d feasted on slightly-cold mozzarella sticks that were, even in their lowered temperatures, immensely good, and clearly garnered all the affection Harry had for them. The food table was nearly completely empty, crew members repeatedly coming up to fill plates with vegetables and snacks, and so you simply gathered the last three sticks of celery once you were done with your sticks before taking a leisurely stroll along the backstage area. Celery firm between your teeth, you pulled out your notepad and your pen once more and jotted notes of what you could possibly include in the article to jog your memory later -
It takes a while, admittedly. You don’t want to leave anything out, and eventually you have two pages filled with notes in your handwriting that would surely be illegible to anyone else who happened upon them - and, sure, your pages are small, but still. Two pages is a lot, and you’re sure most of it won’t even make it into the article but you don’t want to risk forgetting any important information.
A trip to the bathroom - perusing the food table again to pick up the last few carrot sticks - and the show is nearly halfway over, so you decide it may be time to slip into the wings and watch. Take notes, possibly, but mainly just listen and absorb the music and the atmosphere and exactly how the fans react to his every move. That’s what the people want to know, isn’t it? It’s what you would want to know - so you slip past the lingering groups of people into the wings of the stage, where you get a clear view of Harry and his band, singing his heart out to a tune you know to be Kiwi.
It’s ear splitting, truly, in a way that none of the other gigs you’d witnessed had been. But it sounds good - better than good - and he’s as charismatic on stage as he is off, waggling his eyebrows during the more suggestive lines and undoing the button of his suit jacket, and the latter garners a deafening scream from the adoring fans in the crowd.
No, you won’t need to take notes, at least not yet. You’ll remember this forever, won’t you? Watching him work the crowd like he was born to do it, like it’s a second nature and you’re sure it is, at this point. It’s all you can do to stand there, watching him, and you’re sure you look no different from the other fans in the crowd, your eyes wide and lips parted in absolute awe of him -
His head turns to the side, briefly, as if he can sense your eyes on him above anyone else’s. In reality you’re sure he’d simply turned his head to flick a sweaty curl out of his face but it’s never a bad thing to dream right? And your gaze locks for just a moment, his eyebrows raising when he sees your face, and heat burns at your cheeks before his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his right eye shuts in a quick wink before he’s turning back to the crowd as if his attention had never left them.
Shit. You nearly drop your damn carrot. God, he’s a fucking tease, and you’re not even sure he knows it - that this experience will never leave your brain for as long as you walk this Earth, watching him wink as he stared into the depths of your fucking soul, clad in a gorgeous suit with his gorgeous hair and -
Harry truly is a sight to behold, and you’re more than content to watch him forever.
Forever ends up being another half hour or so before you’re made entirely too aware of the fact that you have to pee - not insanely bad, but enough to make you shift uncomfortably from side to side before sighing, turning and making your way further backstage in your search for the bathroom. In your determined tour of the backstage you’d forgotten to search for the restroom, and you wander about for nearly five whole minutes before getting to it -
You do your business. There’s not much more explanation needed.
It’s when your washing your hands, though, water freezing cold against your palms, that you become slightly aware of a myriad of noises occurring outside the restroom. At first you choose not to focus on it, shoving your hands beneath the air dryer to ease your soaking, cold hands, and the noise of violent air assaulting your palms drowns out the scuffling sounds from outside.
When the dryer turns off, and you reach down to wipe your damp hands on your pants, the noises haven’t stopped. And, sure, no one could expect it to be completely silent backstage, but whatever you’re hearing isn’t the normal laughter and chatter and muffled music that you’re used to hearing -
It sounds like someone is fighting, and your hand freezes in its place on the cool metal doorknob. You lean forward, scrunching your nose as you plainly try harder to hear what’s happening -
But, Hell. You have a job to do - you need to get back to the wings to watch the remaining few minutes of the set before Harry leaves and, subsequently, returns for the encore, and you’d intended to write with detail about his closing repetition of Kiwi. So you grab the doorknob, swing the door open and step out, and freeze nearly immediately once you’ve exited.
There is a fight - not as violent as you’d expected - as the security guard from inside scuffles with Steve, who looks positively wasted in a way you’ve come to know all too well, doing gigs in LA. His face shines with a sheen layer of sweat, skin glowing in the artificial light, and his fists move slowly to pummel into the other security guard’s back. It’s, truthfully, a bit pathetic to watch - he isn’t putting up much of a fight against the guard trying to hold him, and your mouth parts with poorly-concealed confusion at the display in front of you.
You’re not sure what to say - or do - or think - standing in the doorway of the bathroom as you watch the poor excuse of a fight, Steve nearly toppling to the ground as the other guard tries to contain him.
“Come on, Steve - don’t be like this -”
Then the other security guard looks up and sees you, and the expression on his face nearly makes you burst into laughter, but you contain it with a bit more difficulty than you’d like to admit. He looks annoyed, like he’s absolutely done with his coworker, and also slightly embarrassed. Clearly, he’d dragged Steve into the hallway containing the bathrooms with the hopes of nobody seeing either of them, and you’ve interrupted his bid for privacy desperately. “Sorry, ma’am,” the guard says, grabbing one of Steve’s flailing fists in his hands. “Don’t mind us - he’s drunk - just trying to contain him.”
You’re doing a damn good job, you want to say, but you bite back the retort with a small nod and a whisper of a smile on your face, walking with your back to the wall past their display in the hopes of Steve not seeing you. He hadn’t been particularly nice to you when you’d first seen him and you can tell he’s in a much more heightened state, now - he’d been drunk when you’d seen him before and you can tell it’s only gotten worse.
Maybe you should’ve told Jeff the guard was drunk?
Well, it’s counterproductive to dwell on the past.
You’re not so lucky, though - you’ve barely made it down five steps down the hallway before Steve lifts his head, pupils blown and skin even stickier looking than before, and he gives you the same disgusted look as though you’re something his dog had left on the grass. “Hey - hey - Jim - do you know who that is?”
And the other security guard - Jim - just rolls his eyes. “No, Steve, I don’t - stop making a fool out of yourself.”
“She works at - at - Eat to the Beat - Parallel Lines - what is it?”
Do you answer him? You don’t quite know. You just swallow thickly, forcing yourself not to don the smile that’s urging its way onto your lips as you hear roaring screams from the crowd that alerts you to the fact that, if Harry isn’t done with his set yet, he’s close, and you need to watch the end. “Autoamerican. Those are all good albums, though.”
“She’s snarky - get off of me, Jim -”
In Steve’s final bid for freedom his legs kick out, and his sneakered foot knocks into your ankle, and it’s certainly not hard by any stretch of the definition but it’s enough to catch you off balance, his toe hooking into the loose fabric around your ankles as he brings his foot back to kick again. One kick did it, though - you tumble to the ground, legs flying out from under you until you land on your ass on the hard floor, your bag slipping off your shoulder, and its contents scatter across the ground.
Fuck. That hurt, more than you’d care to admit, as you brace your elbows behind you to stop your head from knocking into the ground. Your ass hurts and you can see Steve’s leg bracing backwards for another kick, and you push yourself backwards so his foot merely pushes against the air.
You can already see Jim opening his mouth to desperately say sorry when a set of footsteps interrupts his apology - you don’t have to look to your side to see who it is, the smell of expensive cologne wafting before him like an introduction. You practically feel him before you see him.
Your name falls off Harry’s lips entirely too easily, like he’d been looking for you in the overtly small window of space he has before he has to go back on stage - his hair is messy and his skin is sweaty and he bends down next to you with such sentimentality in his eyes - you almost feel like a child again.
“Are y’okay?” Harry questions, and his hand rests on the small of your back and warmth seems to seep through your body from its spawning point, palm moving in circles against your sweater so gently you can tell he’s scared to go much harder. “Wha’ -?”
For his eyes had just landed on the sight in front of you - Jim managed to pull Steve up, the latter clearly coming to his senses at least a little bit, and his eyes narrow at the sight of you on the floor and subsequently widen as he sees Harry next to you.
“Wha’ happened?” And you can hear anger quivering under his voice like boiling water, ready to overflow, and you instinctively reach up to press your hand against his forearm - you do it to your niece all the time when you can tell she’s on the verge of a tantrum and it always works on her - but she is five, and Harry’s twenty years her senior, so, needless to say, the motion doesn’t do much to soothe him. “Fightin’ back here, kickin’ her - you’re s’posed t’be security guards!”
“It’s okay, Harry -”
“S’not okay -”
And then there’s another set of footsteps jogging over to you, and you look up to see Jeff -
“Har, you need to get back out -” but you can see the confusion set into his features as he stands over the scene, eyes flickering to you and Harry on the floor to Jim and Steve, the former having settled the latter into a fairly calm position. The scent of alcohol is strong and you can practically watch as Jeff smells it, his nose crinkling. “Is he drunk?”
“He is drunk, an’ got into a fight wit’ -”
“Okay, okay,” you interrupt, squeezing Harry’s arm again as you push yourself to stand, attempting not to wince at the pain in your ass as your muscles tense. He’s looking at you like you’ve just been hit by a car instead of having a mild scuffle with a security guard, eyes wide and concerned, and you shake your head at him. “Didn’t get into a fight, Harry - he accidentally kicked me. It’s really fine - you need to go back out, anyway.”
“She’s right,” Jeff insists, reaching down to tug Harry up as his eyes bore into the sight in front of you, Steve slowly calming himself down until he’s simply red in the face and reeking of booze. “Come on, Har - you need to get on.”
But Harry’s already bending down again, grabbing your pen and your notebook and your phone (you can see a crack in the screen that most certainly hadn’t been there just a mere ten minutes ago) and you could nearly laugh at the display he’s putting on, shoving your items back into your back, if Jeff’s demeanor wasn’t bordering on murderous as he drags Harry up again. You reach down and grab your bag, now fully stocked again with all of the items that had clattered out, and you give the tussling security guards one final fleeting look before following Jeff and Harry as they make their way down the hall.
“Y’sure you’re okay?” Harry questions, slowing his pace so you can jog beside him, much to Jeff’s lingering annoyance as he brings his fingers up to rub at the space between his eyes. “Y’should know - tha’ doesn’t usually happen -”
“I get it,” you tell him.
“No, really.” You’ve reached the wings of the stage, and Jeff leaves the pair of you alone to descend on to where the band stands, clearly waiting for the cue to go on. Harry runs a hand through his hair, and he looks oddly exasperated and you wish you could get it through his head that it really isn’t a big deal - “Someone will take care of the guards, okay?”
“Don’t fire them,” you insist, even though you’re sure he has no say in it. “Not Jim, at least.”
“Jim -?”
“The sober one.”
“Oh.” He pauses, dropping his hands to his sides. “I can’t make any promises.”
“Just try.”
“Will do.”
There’s another brief second of silence before you nod towards the stage where he’s needed - the few lowly minutes between the end of the show and the encore has come to an end, and you’re sure people are beginning to wonder if he’s not coming back. “Go on, Har. There’s people waiting for you.”
“M’going!” And he isn’t going, just staring at you with his brows furrowed, and you raise your own with a confused stare. “Are y’gonna come t’any more shows?”
You pause, nibbling on your bottom lip as you contemplate your answer. “Well - maybe. If I need more information.”
“You should,” he tells you, and you tilt your head to the side. “Look, I don’t want your only impression of m’shows t’be that they’re violent an’ crazy.”
“I don’t think -”
“Jus’ one more? In two days. I’ll send you th’address. I really want you t’come -”
Before you can process the request Jeff has stepped forward, hooking his arm in Harry’s and practically dragging him towards the stage, and you watch him prance back in front of the audience like it’s his God given purpose and perhaps it is. You’ve never quite met anyone like him, you don’t think, and you’d certainly had a perception of what you’d imagined him to be like based on the insane amount of time you’d spent obsessing over his band when you were younger -
Your mouth feels suddenly dry as you watch him begin, and the music seems to reverberate beneath your skin, and suddenly - without having to think about it much at all, really - you know it won’t take much convincing on his part to get you back for a second night.
#harry styles x reader#harry styles writing#harry styles imagine#harry styles blurb#harry styles smut#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst#harry styles series#harry styles drabble#harry styles one shot#im sure im going to regret starting this as a series and not trying to make it one long piece#but honestly??#im working on another fic right now so i just want the beginnings of this to be out there#i hope u enjoy
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