#I'm rocking back and forth trying to keep my sanity

[riggityrat]

literally no one:

*me going clinically insane toying with steam settings to get these pictures*

Not the best quality, but then again I am on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Hope this was okay to post

(please don't sue me if it isn't @ravenstargames ���)

[rottenpumpkin13]

What if the entire Shinra Building was suddenly left without electricity on an unbearably hot day with no backup power supplies? (the irony and absurdity of the whole situation seems kinda funny 🤭)

The Heat Wave From Hell (Literally)

• The hottest day in Midgar arrives with the worst scenario possible: all the power, including generators and backup systems, is down in the Shinra building—and in the Shinra building alone. It would be easy to leave and find another place in Midgar with air conditioning while the power gets fixed, but everyone has obligations and work that keep them there. Surprisingly, everyone is handling it well.

*Genesis walks into the SOLDIER lounge and sees everyone in various stages of suffering—with Angeal being the most prominent, since he's laying on the floor in only his uniform pants*

Genesis: Goddess, you look terrible.

Angeal: Aren't you hot?? Why are you still in full uniform?

Genesis: As if I would abandon the dress code and my gorgeous coat for a bit of mild heat. You're all overreacting.

*Kunsel passes out in the corner*

Genesis:

*Sephiroth appears out of nowhere with a watering can and pours it over his corpse*

Genesis: !?

Angeal: Sephiroth, what are you doing?

Sephiroth: Hydration is crucial in combating this heat. Not drinking enough water will lead to dehydration, which can cause dizziness, confusion, heat stroke, and eventually death.

Genesis: Oh please. That's what weak people tell themselves to make peace with the fact they can't handle a little heat.

Angeal: You're sweating, do you know that?

Genesis: You're hallucinating.

Angeal:

*Just then, Zack drags in Cloud—literally, by the legs, because the man is passed out*

Zack: Good news! I found Spike and he's just as close to dying as I said he'd be.

Cloud: My body isn't built to endure heat. Summer in Nibelheim was equal to autumn here.

*Sephiroth offers Cloud a water bottle*

Cloud: Thanks, but I don't drink water unless it's cold.

Sephiroth: Hydration is crucial in combating this heat. Not drinking enough water will lead to dehydration, which can cause dizziness, confusion, heat stroke, and eventually death.

*Cloud starts tapping his forehead*

Sephiroth: What are you doing?

Cloud: Trying to find the off button.

• Zack takes Cloud to Angeal's office since the window there is huge and allows air flow.

*Cloud is rocking back and forth*

Cloud: I can't take this much longer. I can feel my sanity slowly slipping away. Why don't we use ice materia to cool off?

Zack: Because all the materia in the building is being used by the president and the board to keep them cool.

Sephiroth, appearing in the doorway: Inequality. Unfair distribution of resources. The rich bask in their cool environment and leave the rest of us to endure unnecessary suffering.

Cloud: Where did you even come from!?

Sephiroth: Drink the w a t e r.

*Zack shuts the door*

Zack: We don't have materia, but I got the next best thing!

*Zack pulls out a container of dry ice*

Zack: Ta-da! Look at what I got from Kunsel!

Cloud: Uhh....isn't that toxic?

Zack: Huh. I don't know. I'll go ask Genesis since he knows about chemistry.

*Zack opens the door*

Sephiroth: In extreme heat conditions, dehydration can lead to serious health complications and death within a matter of—

*Zack shuts the door*

Zack: Eh, we should be fine. Hey, let's go put these in the vents and cool the place up!

Cloud: Good idea!

• The heat seems to be getting worse. Sephiroth continues to make his rounds around the SOLDIER floor, insisting that people drink water, Genesis refuses to part with his leather, and Angeal is slowly losing what little sanity he has.

Angeal: I'm sweating so much, I feel like I'm melting. I smell like a zoo. I can't wait until the tower has cold water again so I can take a cold shower.

*Sephiroth offers him a bottle of water*

Sephiroth: I believe you will benefit from drinking some water.

Genesis, hyperventilating and sweating: Well, I'm not even bothered.

Angeal: JUST TAKE THE COAT OFF

Sephiroth: Drink the water.

Genesis: NEVER

Sephiroth: Drink the water.

Angeal: YOU WILL DIE

Sephiroth: Drink the water.

genesis: FASHIONABLY AND WITH DIGNITY

Sephiroth: Drink the water.

Angeal: DON'T BE A CHIL—IF YOU DON'T GET THAT WATER OUT OF MY FACE, SEPHIROTH, I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL TIE YOU TO THE CEILING BY YOUR HAIR.

Sephiroth: ........

• Angeal can't take it anymore and leaves. He heads towards the break room, where it's so hot, people have started taking frozen items from the break room freezer and are applying them to their bodies to cool off. This angers Angeal greatly.

*Angeal watches Kunsel walk off with a pack of frozen bacon on his neck*

Angeal: Guys, I get that it's hot, but there's no need for this!

*He watches Roche walk away with a bag of frozen french fries on his head*

Angeal: This is such a waste of food!

*Cloud walks by, rubbing frozen peas all over himself*

Angeal: Cloud, don't—

Cloud: IF YOU TAKE MY PEAS I'LL KILL A MAN

Angeal:

*Sephiroth comes up to them with a knife*

Sephiroth: Hydration or castration.

Angeal: Shiva's tits.

• Zack is sure his dry ice plan is fool-proof, but he wants to consult Genesis first. So he finds him in the data room….spinning on an office chair.

*Zack walks up to Genesis*

Zack: Hey Gen, how much dry ice can I put in the vents without it becoming toxic?

Genesis: If you pour the the dry ice in your lungs it'll taste like ice cream and you can then meet the goddess in another plane.

Zack: …..what?

Genesis: The goddess won't judge you for your sins if you find a raccoon and raise it to become a race car driver.

Zack: This is bad! You're delirious from the heat!

Genesis: Sometimes I wonder how many screwdrivers it takes to bake a cake but then I remember that the mako tastes sweeter if Sephiroth spits it into your mouth like a mother bird feeding her young.

Zack: Man, I know exactly what you mean.

• Zack goes through with his plan, but as the cool air hits his face, he starts having doubts—what if the amount he put in was too much? What if he poisons everyone? Better go tell Lazard before things get out of hand.

*Zack runs up to Lazard, who's struggling to cool himself off with a small, battery-powered fan*

Zack: We have a problem! I tried to cool the entire level by placing dry ice in the vents, but I accidentally put too much and it became toxic!

Lazard: Dry ice doesn't just become toxic like that, Zack. I'm sure it's all in your head. Try to relax and handle the heat wave in a civilized manner like everyone else.

*Angeal tackles Genesis to the ground and is trying to force him out of the leather coat*

Genesis: A BEAR IS ATTACKING ME!

Angeal: TAKE THAT DAMN COAT OFF. YOU'RE GONNA HAVE A STROKE!

Genesis: A BEAR IS FORCING ME TO UNDRESS!

Angeal: YOU'RE DELIRIOUS!

*Sephiroth appears with a hose and starts spraying the two of them with water*

Lazard: When this is all over, I will be taking an extended vacation where I will try various calming, illicit substances and none of you will hear from me for six months.

Zack:

• It turns out the amount of dry ice Zack put in the vents was too much, forcing them to evacuate the entire level and regroup in the Skyview Lounge. Word is that they're working on restoring the power, but in the meantime, everyone has to wait there. Meanwhile, Zack is growing increasingly worried about Genesis, and since Angeal has washed his hands with the situation, Zack turns to Sephiroth for help.

*Zack finds Sephiroth in the crowd and runs up to him, dragging Genesis along*

Zack: We have a problem! Genesis is delirious and making no sense.

Genesis: If you grind black pepper and place it in your socks, the ground will taste like cheese when you eventually walk the path to self discovery.

Sephiroth: That's because not drinking enough water will lead to dehydration, which can cause dizziness....

*Genesis sways in place*

Sephiroth: Confusion....

Genesis: Where did we hide the pet parrot who told everyone my secrets and cooked excellent omurice?

Sephiroth: Heat stroke....

*Zack feels Genesis' forehead*

Zack: OW THAT'S HOT

Sephiroth: And eventually death.

*Genesis faints*

Zack: !!!

Sephiroth: Wow. If only we had listened to Sephiroth and DRANK THE FUCKING WATER.

Zack:

Sephiroth:

Zack: Cool your tits, man.

[cannibalovers]

yo another will analysis song (cuz i'm crazy over him and my music taste fits his situation the most i think)

Hannibal song of the day: song no.3

a bit about the song (and album) :

"Underneath it all"(released in 1999) is a song by Nine Inch Nails (my fav band ever i swear i can talk about them for hours sorry). It was written by the frontman of the group, Trent Reznor. It's a part of "The Fragile" album, a quite important album for Reznor's career. "The Fragile" (banger) is a concept album, based on a man known as "mr. self destruct" and is a sequel to "The Downward Spiral"(another banger), dealing with personal issues, including depression, angst, and drug abuse - attempting to find order in chaos and find their way out, but ultimately, failing. "Underneath it all" fits the industrial rock and alternative rock genre, including scratchy synthesisers and distorted guitars and harsh beats, combined with soft vocals that build up to be louder and harsher. The instrumental build up on itself, looping and stuttering. The song talks about trying to move on from a hurtful situation but feeling "stained", the pain and trauma and it's effects it had on the man not going away, no matter what extremes he takes.

I could honestly talk about The Fragile for hours just on its own, it's so vulnurable and angry and it's history makes me so fucking sad, considering how much shit Trent was going through(substance abuse, depression, anxiety, death of his grandma who raised him), but this is a hannibal centered post so. I think the song can fit Will pretty well considering his mindset and feelings by the end of season 1 + prison, not much today cuz its so straight forward

------------------------------

chorus + verse since it's quite short and repetitive

"All I do, I can still feel you (x5)

Numb all through, I can still feel you

Hear your call, underneath it all

Kill my brain, yet you still remain

Crucified, after all I've died

After all I've tried, you are still inside

All I do, I can still feel you(x4)"

the narrator feels plagued, stained, he can't get rid of whatever he is trying to get rid of. The impact the subject had on him was so big that the memories of it and erasure just feels impossible, he feels hopeless, numb. When taking in the themes of the album into account, it's most likely about drugs - trying to recover, but the symptoms of withdrawal just being too intense, feeling like the addiction is punishing and mocking him for ever choosing drugs or even thinking that he can escape them - or it can even be about God. Trent explored the theme of religion in many songs like Heresy or Terrible Lie, blaming God for everything that is happening to him and for causing suffering, yet still coming back, never forgetting him, switching between heretic and devotional tendencies back and forth. He's just so rooted into his mind that it's impossible to not come back, no matter how much he tries to change his faith, maybe even feeling judged and punished by God for his choices.

Whichever one it is, Mr. Self destruct feels hopeless, as his oppressor has become so powerful that it has become a part of his mind, starting to haunt him and latch onto them, almost like a leech. He has tried everything, kill his brain (end it all) or even crucifying (most likely referring to trying to repent for his sins or give up his unhealthy lifestyle and mindset, crucifying them) and yet the little voice in his head still remains present, taunting him.

That's what Will seems to feel like, like Hannibal plagued him with a disease of his own, making Will lose his own mind, identity and sanity in the process - he is becoming him and he can't get rid of him or stop it. Will admits in the series that he keeps hearing Lecter in his head, his head voice sounding like his and even started to think like him, not to mention the various visions where Will grows antlers just like wendigo, as well as once and for all, Will got reborn as wendigo, finalising his transformation. Hannibal has officially stained him and made him what he wanted Will to be.

The way the song builds up, the layers becoming noiser and gritter as well as the vocals louder and more desperate just ties the overwhelming feeling together.

------------------------------

Outro

"All I do, I can still feel you(x2)

(You remain, I am stained)"

the song suddenly drops, stuttering instead, becoming weaker and weaker, which to me represents giving up. The narrator gives up and accepts the fact that the oppressor remains and that he will forever be changed and affected by what has been done to him.

In the show, Will didn't exactly want to accept that, but I guess through his method of manipulating Hannibal back, he has just reinforced Hannibal's effects on him, making Will become Hannibal, he has been stained and can't do anything about it - although he seems to accept his faith and even lets him remain in his life (literally came back for him like damn...tiny bit gay if u ask me).

additional notes :

i couldn't recommend to listen to the fragile more, if you enjoy harsh noises, electronic, rock and industrial sounds and ambience sound, lots of layers and build ups and instrumental and absolute emotional damage then i recommend. this album is so dear to me its insane

my playlist

hope u enjoyed <3

[kay-elle-cee]

@jilytoberfest 31 Prompts: Day 31 || 1733 Words || Read on Ao3 A/N: I would like to state for the record that I know trick-or-treating wasn’t a thing in the UK in the early '80s but please just suspend your disbelief I’m BEGGING you. This is already going canon-divergent so let’s pretend trick-or-treating exists, cool thanks.

Additionally a quick little thank you for joining me on this ride <3 I've read every tag and comment and I'm so grateful for all the love for this fic! Keep an eye out for a masterpost with all these linked, and please feel free to drop into my ask box and let me know if you had any favorites! —

Three raps on the door and James opens it wide, only to find himself immediately arrested by the sight of the beautiful woman in front of him. Her auburn hair is swept over her right shoulder, a pointed witch’s hat sitting tall atop it as brilliant green eyes flicker between him and a small boy that sits on her hip. The boy is smiling, a disheveled mess of black hair poking out from under a little green hat—the stem to the soft orange pumpkin costume his little arms and legs stick through. 

“Trick or treat,” the woman smiles at James, and his lips immediately pull into a grin, even as her eyes once again travel to the small boy on her hip. “Can you say ‘trick or treat’, Harry?”

Harry rocks his weight against his mother’s side, bouncing with excitement as his eyes (green, like hers) sparkle at James. “Dada! Dada!” he babbles, arms outstretched, and James reaches out to take his son with a gentle smile, settling on his hip. 

“It was a long shot,” Lily sighs with a weak shrug, taking a few steps forward and nestling herself beneath James’ other outstretched arm—his whole world now within his grasp. “We’ll just have to try again next year.”

“Well if it helps,” he places a kiss on her head, “you two were my favorite visitors of the night.” Nevermind the ‘only’ that lingers in the air—the heavy weight of isolation that sits, strapped around their necks, trying its damndest to drag them further into despair every day for the last ten months.

But not tonight—not on Halloween, when they can coo over their son and his excitement, when they can enjoy the fact that they can spend another holiday together as a family (especially when the alternative is too gut-wrenching to consider). James places a firmer, longer kiss on his wife’s head as the thought flickers across his mind. Not tonight.

The pop of apparition on the other side of their wards sends his nerves on high alert. Exchanging a quick, loaded glance, Lily takes Harry inside with a protective arm around him as James reaches for his wand.

It’s not there.

He follows behind Lily in a hurry, mind racing at who could be visiting—they didn’t have any planned visits and everyone knows better than to show up unannounced. 

“James—” 

Lily’s eyes are wide and fearful when his attention snaps to her, misplaced wand securely in his hand once more. Harry’s started to fuss—the moods of his parents alerting him to something wrong, and she’s got both of her hands holding him securely to her chest, rocking back and forth.

“It’ll be fine, Lil.”

It’s an empty promise, but one he has to make. For his sanity, for his family, he has to make it. 

Silently casting a Shield, he approaches the door just as frantic beating disrupts the silence of the house.

“Prongs! Lily!”

James’ shoulders stiffen. It’s Sirius. Or rather—it sounds like Sirius.

Sirius, who had insisted on not visiting too often so as to not draw suspicion. Sirius, who had shockingly adhered to a pre-planned visit only rule. Sirius, who’s now here, unexpectedly.

“Please, please open the door or I’ll open it myself!”

Sparing a quick glance to Lily over his shoulder, James holds his wand up to the door.

“What did you say to me the day Harry was born?”

“Oh thank Merlin,” he hears with a final thunk against the wood. “I told you that it seemed unfair for Lily to do all the hard work only for him to come out looking like a shrunken duplicate of you.” James’ shoulders relax the smallest fraction at the correct answer. “Now, let me in immediately. We don’t have time. Wormtail’s been compromised. You aren’t safe here.”

The blood in his veins turns to ice, the sounds of the world dropping away as a ringing intensifies, mixed only with the sensation of his heart pounding painfully in his throat.

Wormtail’s been compromised.

“—should’ve never listened to me. Fuck, but we’ve fixed it, okay?”

“James.” The croak of Lily’s voice is what pulls him out of his stupor, more than Sirius’ ramblings through the door, more than the pounding of his heart. Lily. Harry. Wormtail’s been compromised. “James, love, open the door.”

His muscles act of their own accord as he twists the handle and he’s nearly barrelled over by Sirius’ determined strides as the door flings open and the man walks in, long hair wild and unusual panic in his gaze. Grey eyes fall on Lily and Harry and James sees the sigh of relief expelled in the rise and fall of Sirius’ chest before he snaps into movement and slams the door shut.

“What do you mean ‘compromised’?” Lily whispers, eyes shimmering with terror.

Sirius shakes his head quickly. “I can’t get into the specifics right now but I went to check on him and he was just gone. No struggle, nothing.” His wild eyes turn back to James, who's still standing by the front door, wand clutched tightly in his hand. “Something feels off. Bad off. Fawley came with me as a lookout and I immediately had her help setting up a new Fidelius on my flat—she and Graham had done it for their parents at the beginning of all of this.” He runs a hand over his face, and when the hand is gone, the eyes that meet James’ are determined and tinged with fury. “We need to get you there now.”

Head still reeling from all this news, James nods, motioning for Lily and Harry as he walks over to the fireplace—Disapparating from inside their wards is impossible.

“James—” Lily’s hand grabs his wrist in a death grip, and he cuts her off with a swift, firm kiss, hand smoothing down the red hair on the crown of her head, the black witch’s hat discarded at some point in the excitement.

“Take Harry and go, we’re right behind you.”

“32 Longmoore Street, Lily. The Floo is open.”

With a resolute nod and a clenched jaw, Lily carefully steps into the Floo, green powder spilling to her feet as her hold on Harry tightens and she calls out Sirius’ address. James’ attention is fixed on her, watching as she and Harry disappear to safety in a swell of green flames right as a red beam of light jets through the window, shattering the glass and knocking Sirius off his feet.

Wormtail’s been compromised.

Without hesitation and with everything in him, James throws up another Shield Charm as he drops to crouch low, slinging Sirius’ arm around his neck and firing off a stunner into the darkness outside his window before dragging the two of them to the fireplace.

He knocks the little bowl of floo powder to the ground and scrapes as much as he can into shaking hands as curses continue to fly at the shield. The last one—some sort of dark purple spell that he’s seen on the battlefield once or twice, shatters the shield and the front wall of the cottage, dousing the room in drywall and debris.

Heart lurching in throat, James slams Sirius into the back of the Floo, dropping the green powder as he hurls himself into the flames as well, arm tightening around the unconscious man.

“32 Longmoore Street,” James states as loud as he dares with a trembling voice. The green flames dance around him, higher and higher until it obscures his vision and the floor drops out beneath him—a bone-white wand in a pale hand the last image he sees of their home.

Squeezing his eyes tight, hand clutching his wand and shoulder supporting Sirius’ limp figure, he tumbles out of the grate moments later, knees buckling as the two of them slam to the floor. A hand is on him in an instant and his ears reattune to the sound of Lily’s sobs as she checks him for injuries, Harry crying from his spot on her hip.

“—been holding my breath, I felt sick seeing you disappear, oh my god, James what do we—Sirius!”

With a groan, James sits up, clasping Lily’s free hand with his in an effort to provide some reassurance (for who, his brain is too adrenaline-addled to answer honestly). He brings the back of her hand to his lips, holding it there even as his eyes remain focused on Sirius’ limp form on the rug while he pulls out his wand. Placing the tip to the other man’s chest, he murmurs a shaky ‘Rennervate’, his breath of relief fanning across Lily’s skin as Sirius stirs at the spell, teeth clenching as he pushes himself up.

James shifts so that he can now fully wrap himself around Lily and Harry, his arms holding them close as the shock and terror of the past few minutes begins to settle over him. Wormtail’s been compromised.

His thumb lightly rubs soothing circles on Lily’s arm and he gives Harry a kiss on the head before looking over at Sirius, his throat constricting. “Peter…”

At the name, Sirius’ jaw clenches, his eyes reflecting a hatred James had only seen reserved for his own parents. “I’m going to kill him, James,” he whispers, a growl curling the edges of the words into something deadly. He rubs a hand over his face, eyes flickering down to where Harry’s finally stopped crying before meeting James’ gaze again. “So help me god, I’m going to kill him.”

“Sirius,” Lily’s voice comes, weaker than it had been in their own home, but still with that spark of strength that had carried them all through these months of isolation. She reaches a hand out for him and Sirius grasps it, the four of them connected here, grounded by touch with the proof that they all made it out alive. “You saved us. Don’t risk yourself now.” Dropping a kiss to the top of Harry’s head, she presses her back closer against James’ chest, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever let her and Harry out of his sight again after tonight. Doesn’t know if he can bear the thought of not having everyone he loves within arms’ reach.

A lump has wedged itself into his throat. “Tell Dumbledore,” he manages around the swell of emotion, attention on Sirius. “Send a patronus, but don’t leave. You’re no safer than we are right now.”

[audioaujom]

27: Victim's Memoirs [wrong end 4 ★5]

Corpse Party Hub, < prev, next >

This is wrong end 4 ★5 from Chapter 2! A lot of these bad endings are fucked up and awful but I honestly debated not writing this one because it’s nasty, but… when whump calls lmao

I've also written (or begun writing) nearly every other bad ending for this game and I guess this one felt left out idk

I know compared to a lot of the other graphic shit on this hellsite this is probably nothing, but I’d feel uncomfortable posting this without a bunch of warnings. I don’t really have a taste for such graphic things, but I’m actually kind of pleased with how it came out. I like the ick ig Be safe and enjoy responsibly.

Pairing: Ranboo and Charlie

Word Count: 3190

Chapter TWs: Mind Manipulation ("Darkening"), Graphic Depictions of Violence, Gore, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, Vomiting, Character Death

--

“Whoa hey, do you see that?” Charlie asked as he stepped out of the classroom, Ranboo poking his head out the door to look over his friend’s shoulder at the floor.

“The notebook paper with blood on it?” Ranboo asked, Charlie turning around to face him with a sinister grin. “Yeah, I see it. Why?”

“C’mon, aren’t you curious?” Charlie all but whined, his eyes darting back and forth between the page and Ranboo’s disapproving glare from the doorway.

“Uhm, not really. What’s it gonna say? ‘Here’s how to get out of this horrible haunted elementary school in three easy steps’?” 

“It could!” Ignoring the obvious deadpan, Charlie smiled hopefully up at Ranboo—who just sighed and shook his head.

“No, it really couldn’t.” Ranboo then paused, an unreadable look crossing his face before he continued, “But I’m not going to stop you if you do wanna look.”

“Aha! You are curious!” Charlie poked a finger into the taller boy’s chest, his smile splitting into a wide grin. “It’s just as I suspected!” Triumphant, he turned and swiped the paper up off the ground, eyes scanning the page from behind his glasses before his grip on the page tightened and his face paled. “Oh. Oh god nevermind.”

“What? What’s it say?” Ranboo asked, his own curiosity morbidly piqued by Charlie’s horror, taking the scrap paper from his friend who passed it over wordlessly.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — I ate my friend today. What else was I supposed to do? I was starving. We both were. And there's no food here. So we decided, together, that one of us should try to live just a little bit longer. If I ever get home, I'm supposed to tell all the people waiting for us what happened. We left it all up to a game of rock-paper-scissors. Loser eats winner. And I lost. I felt her blood going down my throat, quenching my thirst. And her meat was surprisingly satisfying. But that blood and that meat was once my friend. Up until just a few hours before, I'd been talking with her. As I feasted, I just kept thinking, this food used to be a person. Before I tore it apart, it all worked together to sustain a life. And every time I thought about that, I just started crying… and I couldn't stop. I wanted some part of her to be with me even after she died, so I decided to keep one of her eyeballs. And I thought maybe I should write all of this down, to help preserve some small portion of my sanity. — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Oh.” Ranboo gagged in disgust and horror, dropping the page to put one hand over his mouth as the other went to clutch at his stomach. “Well, alright. That’s… wow, okay. Um…”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Charlie tried to joke, but it fell flat as his voice shook nervously. He then put a gentle hand on Ranboo’s shoulder, quietly suggesting, “Let’s just… leave that there.”

“Yeah. Good idea.” Ranboo nodded, staring down at the paper on the floor, his look turning to a slight glare. “Just when I think things can’t get any worse…”

“C’mon, let's keep looking somewhere else.” Charlie offered, lightly pulling Ranboo by the arm away from the classroom and towards the stairs.

The two silently made their way back down to the first floor, wanting to search in a more orderly fashion by working their way up from the bottom. By the time they’d made it downstairs the odd tension in the air had already dissipated, them hunting in a much more comfortable silence until—

“Uhm… Ranboo? Is that…?” Charlie asked tentatively, pointing at another rather innocuous piece of notebook paper lying behind a ruined table near the rows of shoe shelves at the front doors.

“Another bloody piece of notebook paper probably containing horror beyond my worst imagination?” Ranboo responded rhetorically, giving Charlie a look as he blandly stated, “I think so.”

“Would it be wrong of me to say I’m still curious?” Glancing at Ranboo beside him, Charlie quickly backpedaled, “Not in a weird sort of way, I just… if it’s from the same person I want to know what happened to them.”

Ranboo stared at him blankly. “Why are you asking for my permission?” 

“It makes me feel better.”

“Wow, no hesitation there.” Ranboo shook his head at his friend’s immediate answer, sighing and gesturing forward at the page. “Sure. Go read it if you really want to.”

“Okay!” Charlie nodded, jogging forward and crouching down before looking up as he realized he wasn't being followed. “Are you not coming too?”

Ranboo stood still for a long moment before he finally gave in and stepped over with a quiet, “...coming.” 

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — I hold, in the palm of my hand... a piece of a person's body. A piece of a person who was living and breathing only a short while ago. This body part used to be attached to her head. And now, I'm walking around the school with it. I had no idea eyeballs were so heavy. And I just keep squishing it in the palm of my hand, as if I'm testing its firmness. Squeeze, and release... Squeeze, and release… — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Okay.” Charlie announced, dropping the page immediately after finishing it. “Somehow that’s worse than the vivid description of cannibalism.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Ranboo grinned as Charlie turned to look at him, betrayed.

“Hey! That’s my line!” He whined with his own smile, before it slowly faded alongside the playful air as realization started to dawn on his face. “But dude… this place is really fucked up. The bodies we keep coming across are all of kids, which means—”

“Don’t. I’m gonna stop you right there.” Ranboo cut him off, firmly waving both of his hands and shaking his head for emphasis. “I don’t… don’t. Nope. I am not going to think about the implications. You are not going to think about the implications. There are no implications. None.”

Charlie nodded, his widened eyes slowly closing as he let out a breath to calm himself down. “No problem.” 

Working their way around the main floor and then to the row of first floor classrooms, the second page—while weird—was long forgotten as the two briefly bickered about how to open the nailed shut door at the back of 2-A until Ranboo remembered the nail puller they’d found earlier. The secret room was strange, with large gaps in the floor and a mechanism at the far corner, the two venturing all the way to the back corner to look over the mechanism to try and figure out what it did.

“...Charlie.” It was Ranboo who broke the silence this time, an arm flying out to the side to stop Charlie in his tracks about halfway into the room. The two boys paused, both noticing the page on the floor.

“Are these notes following us around or something?” Charlie questioned with a frown, pushing Ranboo’s arm away. “Cause we can’t seem to go more than a few feet without finding another one.”

“I don’t like this at all.” 

“Yeah, that’s… fair.” Nodding to himself, Charlie paused before shuffling forward a few steps. “...I’ve gotta, right?”

“No, you really don’t.” Ranboo answered, Charlie ignoring him as he bent down to pick up the page with a shit-eating grin. “That sounds like a yes to me!”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — I've been searching every last corner of this school building, trying to find a way of escaping with her. But it's not happening. No matter how much we struggle, only further misery awaits us. I'm so unbearably thirsty… so hungry that it feels like my stomach is eating itself... And every moment, it gets worse. It's like a big, black mass in front of me that's slowly closing in. I can't keep ignoring it. I've started talking to the eyeball in my hand, to help stay focused and maintain my sanity. Stop looking at me like that! I swear, I'll find us a way out of here! I have to make sure I tell your family what you did for me… — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Hopeless. Lovely.” Ranboo commented from over one of Charlie’s shoulders, watching as his friend curiously started re-reading a section of the note.

“What’s that black mass thing they were talking about?” Charlie asked after he finished looking over the page, setting it back down with a huff. “That sounds a little more imposing than the hunger or thirst.”

“I’m not sure… but whatever it is we should avoid it if we can.” Ranboo sighed, staring down at the note on the floor, lost in thought.

“Oh. I assumed that went without saying.” Charlie agreed, before smirking and commenting, “Y’know, to avoid the big black ball.”

“Dude.” 

“Not even  a sliver of a smile?” Smirk dropping, Charlie sighed and shook his head. “Throw me a bone here man, I’m trying to cheer you up.”

“...thanks.” Ranboo smiled a little, recognizing Charlie’s effort but still too anxious to actually feel any sense of relief. “But the best way to cheer me up would be to stop reading these creepy notes and find a way out.”

“Aye aye, captain.” 

Ignoring Charlie’s mock salute, they continued investigating each floor systematically in an on and off silence until they reached the end of one of the hallways on the third floor, the two noticing another bloodied page near a particularly large gap in the floorboards.

“Okay, I know you said to stop reading them, but it’s right there.” 

“I already said I wouldn’t stop you like ten times, Charlie.” Ranboo sighed, watching Charlie run up to the page and instantly scan its contents.

“Epic.” About halfway down the page, Charlie's expression dropped, setting the page down with a wince of nausea. “Oh. Nevermind. I think I’m just gonna… put this back…”“What did it say?” Ranboo asked curiously, wandering over and picking up the page as soon as it hit the floor.

“Oh, you don’t wanna—” Charlie reached out to stop him, but was a moment too late as Ranboo had already begun reading. “Wait!”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — I am writing these memoris wit hsticky hansd but its not me that is stiky but somethng else I hope you re not mad about this maybe you will think im a horribl e person but i got hungry again really hungry like i was about to DIE so i I did something I shouldn't have done. I promised myself I would stay sane, and promised myself I wouldn't do what I did, and I am so, so sorry, really, really sorry, really sorry but there is no excuse for what I did. With my bloody hands, I took the thing that I've been squishing, and I put it in my mouth, and I swallowed it. Iateit. — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“...yeah.” Ranboo silently let go of the page as Charlie spoke, letting it slowly flutter through the air until it landed at his feet, Charlie grabbing him by the shoulders to maneuver him further down the hall. “Let’s go, Ran.”

“Yeah.” Ranboo nodded absentmindedly, fiddling with his hands before glancing over at Charlie and timidly asking, “We’ll figure this out, right? You and me?”

“You and me.” Charlie affirmed, squeezing his shoulders. “We got this.” 

No matter how confident Charlie sounded Ranboo couldn’t shake his lingering anxiety, the longer they searched around the school with no clear goal only serving to make it continually spiral. By the time they’d backtracked to the second floor for a second time, it had gotten so bad he almost didn’t step off the landing and through the doorway to the floor, letting Charlie pull him along as he couldn’t seem to get himself to walk forward. The anxious ice in his veins that had shattered when Charlie urged him forward resurged rapidly after the briefest moment as both of them noticed the paper lying beside the large gap in the floor at the same time.

“...is that—?” Charlie asked, cutting himself off as the two stared at the page on the floor.

Ranboo nodded, dread coiling in his stomach as he couldn’t will himself to move any closer to it. “I think it is.”

“It’s fine.” Charlie said randomly, pulling Ranboo into a nearby classroom with a soft smile. “I’m not curious.” 

“What? Really?” Ranboo asked, disbelieving, some of the dread giving way to relief as Charlie sounded genuine and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, really. We have other priorities right now.” 

“Yeah. Yeah.” With a short nod from Ranboo, the two went back to investigating the small room. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

The classroom held nothing useful, Ranboo giving up after a few minutes and slamming shut the teacher’s desk drawer he’d pulled open in a vain hope of finding anything they could possibly use. He turned to comment about the empty nature of the classroom to Charlie, only to realize his friend was no longer beside him. Confused, he poked his head out of the doorway to see where he could’ve gone in the minute he was distracted with rifling through the desk.

“Charlie? Where’d you— NO!” The yell of surprise ripped out of Ranboo before he knew what he was saying, staring at where Charlie was crouched on the floor by the staircase with the previously seen note clutched in both of his hands. “Charlie, what are you doing?!”

“Sorry, Ran. I’m too curious.” Charlie apologized, flashing him a quick smile. “Besides, this is probably the last one, anyway. No harm, no foul.”

Reaching out, Ranboo threw himself forward to try and take the page from Charlie—who easily ducked out of the way. “No, don’t—!”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — if you are reading this allow me to forewarn you there is no hope of rescue there is nothing to be gained endless wandering and endless torture is the nature of this place i succumbed to my hunger and thirst began nibbling on that corpse again there is no flavor, no sensation just meat and fluid to sate my empty belly i promised i would not desecrate your body any more but i broke that promise  please  forgive me — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Charlie had barely read the last few words on the page when his vision completely blacked out.

Everything felt wrong.

The last thing Charlie remembered was reading another one of the bloody notes—please forgive me—and then blacking out on the floor. His head hurt and his mouth tasted metallic, a hand coming up to messily wipe some blood leaking out of his mouth as he tried to sit up and figure out what was going on around him.

“Shit, my head—!” Charlie glanced around with half-opened eyes, shaking his head and looking around frantically for his friend only to realize he was alone in the hallway. “What… oh god, Ranboo? Ranboo?!”

Forcing his nauseous body to his knees, he felt his stomach roil and force a line of bile up his throat from the movement, trying hard to swallow it back only for the metallic taste in his mouth to grow stronger.

“What the fuck is—?” He asked, cutting himself off to spit out a thick wad of blood that was building up in his mouth, the contents landing in an oddly gloopy pile on the wood between his knees. He spat again, the blood a little thinner but still strange as he recoiled from it and toppled over backwards. “Shit, what the fuck…?”

Finally looking up and getting his vision to focus, Charlie wished he could fall back unconscious as he realized he wasn’t technically alone—but the only company he now had was his friend’s unmoving body.

An extreme amount of blood had soaked into the wood flooring beneath Ranboo’s still form, his throat torn open and windpipe crushed, his neck missing a large chunk of jagged flesh from the middle that had already stopped oozing. His mouth and eyes were wide open, the once lively gray now faded, glassy, and frozen in a kind of terror that made Charlie sick to his stomach all over again. The muscles on his upper arms had been torn clean off, white bone sticky with what was left of the crimson tendons and blood missing from his limp arms—one of his elbows bent all the way up the wrong way. His legs weren’t nearly as torn as his arms, but they were ripped by what looked like teeth marks from the knees all the way down to his shoes, pants shredded by the unnatural strength of whatever had attacked and left his mangled body in the middle of the hallway.

“What did… what?” Charlie scrambled back up to his hands and knees to crawl up to Ranboo’s body, afraid to touch him as he realized his hands were already slick with the same blood that formed dried drips on the front of his shirt—and was very likely Ranboo’s. “Oh god, no… no no no, this some twisted fucking joke, there’s no way I would’ve… oh fuck…” Metallic twinged bile threatened to rise up his throat again, Charlie only managing to turn his head at the last minute before the vomit could soil Ranboo’s already desecrated corpse. “Blood… everywhere and… no… no, please…”

Sitting innocently next to the body was a scrap of paper that managed to avoid the worst of the spilled bodily fluids, Charlie reaching for it with shaking hands as he recognized Ranboo’s scrawled handwriting.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — It’s okay, Charlie. I know this wasn’t you. Only the school and that black mist are to blame. If you ever come back to your senses and read this… I’m sorry I couldn’t stop you. I hope you make it out. - Ran — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The rest of the note trailed off into a thick coating of blood, Charlie’s eyes going unfocused with hot tears that gathered in the corners and threatened to stream down his already messy face. “There’s no way I… I did this…?” Charlie asked aloud, his strangely half-full stomach feeling infinitely heavier as he frantically tried to spit or even throw up more of the flesh and blood coating the inside of his throat. “I… oh god…”

Another retch had vomit with chunks of barely digested muscle landing in front of Charlie, his eyes blurry with now freely flowing tears and an odd faded black tint around the edges that creeped in with a cool chill. One hand went up to claw at his throat as the other braced him against the floor, overwhelmed with a self-loathing so strong it was only rivaled by the innate disgust that stung in his mouth like his stomach acid, him clinging desperately onto the awful feelings as they started to slowly slip away from his conscious grasp into the dark void that gave him a sense of deja-vu to when he’d finished reading the last of the bloody notes. 

Charlie was tired and anguished and suddenly overwhelmingly… hungry. He just couldn’t fight it anymore. The hunger ate away at his feelings greedily, him collapsing to the floor as the dark haze re-took over his vision—leaving him in an empty heap of despair lying on the bloodsoaked wood next to Ranboo’s unmoving body.

[novantinuum]

Finger painting, cricut, film?

Ohohoh the first one is going to be interesting indeed... *eye emoji as I look at this list...*

Thank you so much for sending one in, fren! :D

Writer/OC ask meme source

__

Finger Painting- Share a small snippet from your earliest work (or the earliest that you can get back to). How would you rewrite it today? Either share the rewrite itself or just describe how you’d do it.

Hmm... so, I'm only going to go back to my earliest Gravity Falls story, because to go any earlier would be to lose my sanity. Let's look at "Stanford in the Looking Glass."

Interestingly enough, I already AM re-imagining this fic! It's a series of thematically interconnected one-shots about Ford and his reflection throughout his life. I'm definitely not finished with this re-write yet, not enough to start posting what I have in full, but I can definitely share a small snippet.

Original, written in 2016:

When Stanford Pines returned home from school that day, his father was miraculously nowhere to be seen. "He just left for a- a breath of fresh air," his mother said when he asked about it, and that was that. Didn't even bother to shed a single glance at him. Her eyes were glued to the pages of her book instead. She’s trying to distract herself, he realized. It hurt, but he was used to it. "...Oh." He wasn't entirely sure what else he expected. Suddenly feeling much smaller than he really was, the young boy shoved his scuffed hands into his overall pockets─ too-narrow pockets, which were definitely not made to hide more than five fingers─ and timidly shuffled away.

Re-written in 2023:

When Stanford Pines returns home from school that day, Dad is miraculously nowhere to be seen. "Your father?” his mother says when he inquires about it. “He just left, for uh- a breath of fresh air.” And that’s that. Not a single word more. She doesn’t even bother to spare an empty glance at him, her focus too caught up within the crinkled, yellowing pages of her latest novel. (He flipped through some of her books once, out of idle curiosity. Her tastes aren’t anything to his interests. All she ever reads about is boring historical romances, where the men sweep the women off their feet and everyone lives happily ever after.) "...Oh,” he mutters, rocking back and forth on his heels. He’s not entirely sure what else he expected, asking this question. Still, Ma’s scattered lack of attention stings more than she probably realizes. Circumstances suddenly making him feel much smaller than he really is, the young boy shoves his scuffed hands into his overall pockets─ too-narrow pockets, which were definitely not made with more than the typical number of fingers in mind─ and timidly shuffles away.

Cricut- Are there any characters you’ve had to “cut” from a story? Are there any moments/chapters/stories you’ve had to “cut” entirely?

So, I've cut moments from my stories- like, a few paragraphs at most- but I don't think I've ever had to resort to fully chopping a chapter, let alone a character. Mostly that's just because I write 100% for hobby, and am not looking to make this feel like a job. I like trying to ensure my work is as decent quality as I can muster, but also... there's a limit to how fervently I'm going to edit before I throw something online. I don't want to stifle my creative spirit by starting to give myself rules, y'know?

That being said, I keep all of my cut scenes just in case I ever wish to go back and recycle any metaphors or phrasing from them. I think one of the largest scenes I've ever cut was from an early chapter of The Ballad of Aryll. The moment just wasn't working, and I ended up having to approach it from an entirely different angle before I was satisfied with the direction. It was actually a kinda rare moment for me, usually I'm able to wrestle with my words until they slot into place, but that time I had to physically delete around 700 words before I could continue.

Film- Which one of your fics do you think would work best if turned into a movie? Who would direct it?

Oh god... Uhhh... does picking a storyboarder team work? I can think of one SU fic I'd love to see as a boarded storyline, and that's my four chapter misadventure "Contact," in which Steven accidentally cracks his gem on a mission and his family has to reckon with the genuine possibility of his death before finally sourcing the cure for it at Rose's fountain.

In the 100% hypothetical universe where this happened, I think this story would translate to an animation best with the talents of SU storyboarders Raven and Paul IMO, because I feel like their style always provides really good, exaggerated expressions at wham moments- perfect for providing contrast between the mundane and the delicate, and then the distressed, painful moments of this story.

[aris-ink]

some horror smut with seokjin pls 😭 ppl barely ever write about him

tysm to my 🐋 angel for providing inspiration and supporting me... thank you to @baalsgurl1913 for reading through this and guiding me with her love. and thank you to @yoongsisbae for helping me choose the right direction <3 I am... so sorry for what I am subjecting y'all to lmao

pairing: jin x reader

genre: romance, ghost!au

warnings: mentions of blood and violence (not towards the reader), multiple deaths (+ major character death), implied murder, cheating (not by jin), supernatural elements (hauntings, afterlife), mentions of medication, manipulation and obsession, implied mental and physical torture (agsffhsgsh rip minho), angst, rough sex, dirty talk, praise, mentions of spanking, choking, creampie

"Does it help?"

So cold. His hand felt so cold as it brushed through your hair.

"Does it help you move on? To feel like you've buried me?"

Unable to turn around and look at him - or whatever that thing was - you pulled your knees up to your chest and hid your face in them.

"I did," you whispered. To convince him or yourself, you weren't sure. "I did bury you."

Like a little girl, you gently rocked yourself back and forth on your bed, the chill of the dark room so severe it was making your fingers numb.

"Did you?" He hummed into your ear. "I'm right here."

You could barely hold yourself together, your heart sinking so low you feared he could snatch it from under the ground and keep it there with him forever to rot.

"I promised I'd never leave you, didn't I?"

Despite the fear weighing on your chest, your eyes opened slowly. You woke up in the warmth of your sheets, your vision blurry with tears. Seeking comfort, or at least a confirmation you weren't alone, you turned towards your boyfriend and pressed yourself into his back. You tried to swallow down the lump in your throat, the grief and the guilt of trying to move on. It didn't help. The bitter mixture only seemed to upset your stomach. With a sigh, you sat up and blinked, wiping at your eyes. Outside the window dusk was slowly fading. You reached for your phone, then planted your feet on the wooden floor.

6 am. Looked like you'd have an early start.

*

Grief was... loud. It demanded to be heard. He was sure even the dead could not rest in peace with how you tossed and whimpered in your sleep. He certainly couldn't. But the bastard lying beside you remained oblivious to your suffering. Pathetic, really. Jin couldn't believe this was the man you chose to replace him with. The man who got to see your pretty smile, go to sleep and wake up by your side - when he didn't deserve any of it at all.

He would have felt that way about anyone who went near you, of course, but there was no denying the fact that he held a special kind of contempt for Minho. All those late nights out, the perfume he smelled of when he came home. Surely you weren't that blind? Surely you could see that he wasn't faithful? Always drifting off somewhere, even as you spoke to him. Jin wished he could grab him and break every bone in his body, slowly, make him pay for every sin he's ever committed. The sin of being with you, touching you. The sin of hurting you.

But all he could do was kneel by your bed and run his fingertips down your cheek. He tried to catch the tears that fell, wipe them away like he used to when he was alive. It didn't do much besides inducing a little shiver, making you pull the blankets tighter around your body.

*

A few months have passed since the car accident, yet he continued to appear in your dreams. It felt like any attempts you made at trying to find peace were being torn apart by his shadow, leaving you lethargic and confused... making you pay less attention to your new relationship. During the day, you questioned your sanity and wondered if you should see a doctor.

During the nights, however, in that cold, little dreamland of yours he haunted, you tried to find the answers to questions you wouldn't dare to ask out loud.

"Why are you still here?"

You still couldn't face him, but you felt his presence, a ghostly touch travelling down your sides. The nightmares themselves were distressing enough, but there was something else gnawing at you, a possibility that made you ache.

"Are you stuck? Is there no light there?"

You could feel Jin's arms wrapping around you from behind. Such a chilly, foreign experience, disturbing you in ways you couldn't even understand; everything seemed too realistic.

"There is," he murmured, his voice sounding amused. "And I went right into it."

You swallowed, staring at the wall ahead of you.

"Oh."

You couldn't tell if you felt relieved or disappointed. You chewed on your bottom lip.

"So, you're not real then," you whispered, as if to yourself. "Just my imagination."

"Oh no," Jin protested. "I'm very real, baby."

Your brows furrowed, your heart skipping a beat. You haven't heard him call you that in so long it made you want to curl yourself up to him. Real or not.

"But you said you followed the light."

"Mm, that I did," his lips grazed your shoulder, a hint of ice with velvet, followed by a soft whisper. "You're my light."

A dam inside you cracked, the turbulent waters behind it about to shatter it altogether, along with your willpower and common sense. You missed him so much. You wished you could hide in his arms and stay like that forever, even if they felt so cold. You'd give up the sun and live in eternal winter if it meant that things could go back to the way they were.

But they couldn't. And that wouldn't be living at all.

*

"Ah, don't forget your pills."

You smiled at Minho and grabbed the small, plastic bottle from him. It's been only two weeks since you saw a psychiatrist, but the quality of your life has improved immensely.

And also, it didn't.

While you no longer feared going to bed, closing your eyes was still a struggle. You didn't need to dream to see Jin's face behind your eyelids.

There was an uncomfortable, odd sense of guilt stirring inside you, like you've done something wrong. Like you've shut him out and left him all alone there in the void. And yet that was all the more reason for you to keep taking your medication and trying to move on. Jin was gone; there was no changing that. Sticking to rationality made it easier for you to ignore these feelings, to tell yourself that you didn't feel unusually cold when you entered your bedroom.

You glanced up at Minho when he got up from the table, grabbing his coat.

"Are you going somewhere?"

He smiled at you as he worked on fixing his tie.

"Just work stuff."

You put down your fork, your appetite suddenly gone. Work stuff, at nine pm. On a Saturday night. Again.

"Don't wait up, honey."

You didn't have the mental strength to deal with this and your inner turmoil. Instead of speaking up, you tried to force a smile when he bent down to press his lips to yours. An inch separated you, your eyes fluttering shut.

And then - a sudden crash that made you jump in your seat.

Frowning, Minho straightened up, looking behind you.

"What the hell?"

Your heart thudded in your ears. The fright that pulsed through you spread all the way to your fingertips, making your hands feel weak. You turned your head towards the source of the sound, blood draining from your face.

The frame that held the first picture you took with Jin was lying on the floor, shattered, glass broken into pieces. You hid it inside the cabinet right above the spot, yet now it was wide open, gaping.

Even though your knees felt like cotton, you stood up and rushed towards it automatically. You collapsed onto the floor, barely registering Minho calling out your name. With trembling fingers, you began to pick up the pieces in a hurry, not even fazed when you felt two warm hands curling around your arms.

"Are you crazy?" Minho snapped, pulling you away from the mess.

You struggled out of his grasp, your elbow knocking into his chest roughly. You scrambled back to the broken frame, blinking through the tears. It was so hard to see.

"It's- it's broken," you stammered. "Broken. I need to clean it up."

Minho crouched down next to you, gripping your wrists.

"You're hurting yourself!" He hissed. "Look."

He shook both of your hands. Dazed, you glanced down, brows scrunching when you noted the blood dripping from your fingers.

"But-"

Minho stared at you, a flash of uncertainty in his eyes, like for the first time he was really seeing you. Like for the first time something akin to guilt stirred in his stomach. Keeping your wrists in a tight grip, he wrapped an arm around your waist, gently pulling you up with him.

"Come on, honey. I''ll clean it up in a sec. Hold on."

He guided you to sit back down on your chair. You could still feel your heart ramming against your chest, frighteningly heavy with the weight of stress. Minho left your side to step up to the cabinets, rummaging through them in search of a first aid kit.

Numbly, you observed him uncap a bottle of antiseptic. Only when it came into contact with your skin did you feel the sting of the cuts, a sizzling sensation that made your fingers twitch. He bandaged them up one by one, seven in total, wincing as he cleaned up the blood.

Silently, as he promised, he went to clean up the mess on the floor as well, ensuring to sweep the area thoroughly. With a brief glance at the picture, then back at you, he set it down on the counter carefully. You felt like you were outside of your body, barely there, unable to speak up and tell him to not throw the picture away. He seemed to know that himself, though.

He picked up your bottle of sleeping pills and placed it on the table beside you.

"I'm late now, but I still have to go. Get some rest okay? You can text me if you feel unwell."

You blinked up at him, unsure if you were grateful to be left alone now or if you wanted to beg him not to walk out the door. Still, you couldn't even nod when he leaned down to kiss your forehead. With your hands on your knees, you listened to him leave and lock the door.

Your eyes flickered from the counter where the picture was, then to your pills. Unable to help yourself, you left the bottle behind and went straight to bed. Waiting for the adrenaline to flow off you and the exhaustion to do its job. You couldn't force yourself to swallow the medication tonight, an uneasy feeling intensifying in your chest.

*

This just wouldn't do.

How much more could he take? He stood by your bed and watched your eyes fall closed, fuming. He caught your attention, and that fucker's too, but Minho was probably too stupid to think much of what happened. Even if a frame did fly out of your kitchen cabinet on its own.

The two weeks he spent without being able to contact you were agony. Time didn't seem to exist on the other side. For the living - for you - it flowed like a river. For Jin it was a bottomless ocean and he felt like he was drowning without you. He couldn't stand the fact that you just tried to toss him away and move on with your life as if he ceased to exist. It was clear you still loved him. Why were you so unwilling to believe that he was right by your side? Did you really think something as trivial as death would ever take him away from you?

All the anger inside of him simmered, so powerful it felt like an explosion when he watched you sit in the kitchen with that pathetic excuse of a human being.

Until it overflowed.

He was almost as surprised as you were when the cabinet flew open. He hasn't been able to touch anything on this side of life.

Now, as he stood over your bed, he contemplated what he could do with that newfound power. There were so many possibilities.

With a hum, he brushed your cheek softly. Decisions, decisions.

*

This dream was different from the others. You were still in your bed, but this time Jin didn't sit behind you. You could see his silhouette in the corner of your room, blending in with the shadows. You shivered, relief settling over you for some reason, despite how disturbing the atmosphere felt. At least he was there.

You didn't know what to say. You had a feeling he was angry at you for leaving him behind. Why else would he stand so far away?

"Missed me, baby?"

His voice sounded soft. You hid your face in your hands, confused, unable to tell if the spectre before you was a figment of your imagination, a cry from the grief you tried to escape, or something more sinister. Something more real.

But whatever it was, it was still Jin, in some way. Wasn't it?

When you heard light footsteps approaching your bed, you stiffened, still lacking the courage to look up. For so many reasons. Would he look dead? Would he look normal? Either way seeing him again would break your heart.

You felt him kneel down on the creaky floorboards, slowly taking your hand in his. A chill spread through you, your eyes shut tightly.

"What have you done?" He whispered, pressing a kiss to each bandaged finger. A feather light touch.

"No more suffering, baby. Promise me... Just let go. I'm right here."

*

The next night you drifted off in your armchair for what seemed like a few minutes. You awoke with a sigh, getting up to stretch in the dark and make your way towards your bedroom.

Minho must have still been out somewhere. You tried to ignore that thought.

Strong arms wrapped around you, halting your steps. You froze, the soothing warmth and smell of a cologne that was so familiar to you making your heart thud. You whirled around in shock, for the first time letting yourself look at him. Your hands grasped at his shoulders. He felt so much warmer than usually. Dark, soft hair framing his handsome face, his eyes burning into yours. Wearing the same leather jacket you've seen him in on your last day together.

Was this another dream? It had to be.

"Baby," he muttered lowly, his hands coming to rest on your waist.

The sudden proximity after such a long time of being apart made your stomach swirl. It was strange how solid his hold was on you.

He took a moment to stare into your eyes, the pretty eyes he missed so much, glistening and bright. You were so confused, your chest constricting with pain and love all at once. You opened your mouth to speak, but words failed you. This had to be a dream, right? But why did he feel this warm? His eyes seemed so dark. So much darker than they ever were before. His lips knocked into yours, not allowing you to voice your perplexity and your doubts, or focus on your thoughts at all.

Such hunger. He didn't think the dead could feel hunger, or much of anything, but he was wrong. His soul endured starvation in this ruthless void, starvation for your love, your touch, you. It turned into a dark desperation that dripped and dripped onto you like fire, from his tongue brushing your lower lip, from the fingertips dancing across your ribs.

He groaned, a low, raspy sound that made your thighs clench.

Not for long.

He pried them apart and settled himself between them, his lips pressing soft, wet kisses into your neck.

"Fuck," he sighed, fumbling with the zipper of your jeans, his hands shaking. "I missed you."

You wanted to let him push you into the nearest wall so willingly, you would have any other time. But this still felt so odd. So real.

For a moment, you lost your breath, and the only thing you could focus on was the way he slid your jeans halfway down your thighs, not even bothered to undress you or himself properly.

"Missed you," he repeated in a whisper.

When you heard him unbuckling his belt your pussy clenched around nothing, leaking through your panties. There was a soft grunt as his trousers pooled around his ankles, one hand hooking your leg around his waist.

"Missed you too," you gasped, your head tilting back when you felt a sharp tug and heard the cotton material of your underwear being ripped in half.

"I know, baby."

The tip of his cock brushed through your slick folds, the slight pressure of the hard, thick length causing a shiver to erupt down your spine. Jin hissed, squeezing your thighs as he spread you open.

"Missed me here too?"

He emphasized the question with a teasing thrust, rubbing against you. Very fleetingly, the thought of Minho tickled the back of your mind, like a butterfly. You weren't a cheater. But... this wasn't real, was it? Even if it was, you weren't sure if you were able to overcome the shock of it, the need and the yearning burning inside you.

As if sensing your hesitation, Jin rolled his hips, entering you harshly and knocking all air out of your lungs. You felt so full of him, pulsing hotly around his cock.

"Don't think about him," he seethed. "Don't think about anything. Only me."

He didn't make that task very difficult. All your thoughts turned to ashes when he gripped your throat with his hand and started to fuck you, slamming you into the wall behind you with every aggressive snap of his hips. Like he wanted to take all of his frustration and love out on your body, make you suffer from pleasure.

"You're only mine," he groaned into your ear. "Your heart is mine. This pussy is mine. I should beat your ass raw for fucking forgetting that."

Your knees quivered, a whine tearing out of your throat. He tightened his hand around it, cutting the sound off.

"Say you're sorry."

You clenched around him. Somehow, the aggression only made your head spin more, because if he didn't feel real before, he definitely did now.

"Say you're sorry," he demanded sternly, "you little fucking brat, s-shit."

"Sorry!" You breathed, barely audible with how hard he was choking you, your eyes stinging and pussy fluttering. "Sorry."

Jin grunted and let go of your neck, burying his hand in your hair instead. You felt lightheaded, barely able to catch the air he allowed back into your lungs, panting with how close you were.

"Good girl," he whispered, strained, a moan following the praise. "Fuck, missed you so much, not g-gonna last, shit-"

You weren't going to, either, but he busied himself with pulling on your hair and slipping his other hand in between you. He pressed his finger into your clit to rub it roughly, causing even more slick to flow out of you, making his thrusts sloppier.

"So wet. So pretty. I love you so much, ah, fuck."

His breathing sounded just as harsh as his thrusts in your ear, growing desperate, louder than your own cries.

"Haven't been fucked how you deserve to be in so long, my love," he mumbled, plump lips brushing against your skin. "Come for me, please. Come on, doll. Need to feel you," he groaned. "Shit! Come on. I'll fill you up so, so good."

You couldn't help the sudden, violent snap in your stomach that made you shake and cream his cock. Jin threw his head back, revealing his attractive, tanned neck, his adam's apple bobbing. His groans were carnal, filthy, his cock twitching inside of you, filling you up with a rush of his cum. If possible, you felt even fuller, your chest glowing and your cunt sticky from his orgasm. With a hiss, he rested his forehead on your shoulder, his embrace tighter around you, keeping your knees from giving out.

You floated in his arms, barely registering the fact that he picked you up and carried you towards the bed you used to share, his own knees feeling weak.

So he was able touch you. So he was able to love you. He watched you fall asleep, hope blooming in his chest only to wither away into disappointment. So what? In the end, what did that matter? You couldn't have a life together, grow old, have children. He would never be able to take you out to an expensive restaurant or buy you a gift, and who knew how long this would last? Could he only touch you when he was angry, overwhelmed, empty?

This just wouldn't do.

*

It took a mere few days for the opportunity to arise.

It was so hard to tell what was happening around you. Your eyes blinked open to a bright light blinding you. You had no idea where you were. Was this another dream, again? You squinted, trying to cover your face. The light felt warm and safe, calling to you, like it wanted to pull you into its pearly embrace.

Instead, a darker embrace enveloped you.

"Don't go," a sweet murmur. "Not yet, baby. Stay with me."

You lifted your eyes towards the light, still squinting, although it seemed to be fading in its intensity little by little. For some reason you felt like you were running out of time.

Something was wrong.

"Stay with me," Jin repeated quietly. "You know there is no me without you. Don't go where I can't follow."

You hesitated. Weren't you on your way to see your mother with Minho? An image flashed through your head, leather seats and the low hum of music on the radio.

No, you were definitely in a car. So where the hell were you now? The last thing you remembered was the same bright light that was dimming in front of you now. You turned your head to the side, coming face to face with Jin.

The puzzle pieces clicked into place and you looked towards the enchanting source of illumination again. It was dwindling, though its call still felt just as enticing and loud, urging you to follow.

You turned your head back towards Jin.

"Did we... crash? Am I dead?"

A hint of sorrow glimmered in his eyes. He nodded meekly, his arms tightening around you, strong and secure.

"Stay with me," he pleaded, leaning in, his lips a breath away from yours. "I'll take care of you," he murmured.

His hand slid down your side, moving to your hip. Your breath caught in your throat.

"But... but-"

You tried to take a peek at the light in front of you, but he lifted his hand and placed it on your cheek, unwilling to let you look away from him.

Something felt so wrong; like your only chance for real, heavenly peace was slipping through your fingers. Like this wasn't where you were supposed to be, even if you ached to be with him.

"Jin..."

He shushed you, pressing a warm, affectionate kiss into your lips, his thumb brushing away your tears.

"We'll be together. Forever. I won't let you go again."

You sniffled, the space around you growing dark as night, his lips still inches from yours when he spoke again.

"You're okay, baby. I promise."

His grip on your face softened. You nodded, wiping at your eyes. He smiled at you, something you haven't seen in so long. It made your heart flip, for so many reasons.

"Good girl," he praised, stroking the top of your head affectionately. He ignored the trembling of your body, only pressing you closer to himself, trying to soothe your anxiety and pain away.

Even if he was the one who caused it.

He placed a gentle kiss on the shell of your ear. You promised to always be his.

Promises were made to be kept.

*

In a small, well lit room, Minho sat in a bed, eyeing the two figures in white lab coats standing before him suspiciously.

"I don't want to talk to you," he grumbled. "You're just here to treat me like one of your crazy patients."

The tall, dark haired man with glasses took a seat in the chair at the foot of the bed, crossing his legs.

"I don't consider any of my patients crazy," he answered calmly. "It's important to remain open minded and find a solution if a problem arises. I'm only here to listen and help you feel safe. I promise."

Minho narrowed his eyes, his gaze flicking from the elderly nurse who still stood by his side to the doctor.

The psychiatrist gave him a kind, dimpled smile.

"My name is Kim Namjoon. How about we start with that?"

"I don't care about your name," Minho huffed. "You have no idea what happened to me. You would never believe it either."

A pen clicked, its tip pressing into a notebook resting on the man's lap.

"Why don't you try me?" He coaxed gently. "Let's start at the beginning. As you're aware, the security footage shows your car swerving violently to the right. The doctor said you were trying to avoid hitting someone."

"I- I was."

Namjoon raised his eyebrows.

"But the roads were empty."

Minho flushed.

"Your tests also came back negative for any signs of drugs or alcohol in your system," Namjoon continued. "Have you been under a lot of stress lately?"

"I wasn't hallucinating because I was stressed," Minho snapped. "I saw someone!"

"Who did you see?"

Heaving a sigh, Minho glanced up at the nurse, who gave him an encouraging smile, as if to say: it's okay. He fiddled with the cool sheets covering him.

"My girlfriend's ex. He... died seven months ago."

"Ah," Namjoon said softly, steering his focus onto you, as if the revelation of seeing a ghost didn't faze him. "I'm sorry for your loss, Minho."

Another sigh, heavier, glassy eyes burning into the doctor helplessly.

"It was his fault!" Minho stressed. "He killed her and now he's going to kill me."

After a moment of soft scratching of pen against paper, Namjoon leaned forward, tilting his head to the side.

"What makes you think that?"

Minho hesitated.

"I... saw him in the hospital room as well. It was like a dream," he sniffed. "But I couldn't move."

Namjoon hummed, waiting.

"...He... said something to me."

Straightening up, Namjoon grabbed his pen again and pressed it into the white page.

"What was it?"

Minho pursed his lips, sighed once more. Cringed at his own words.

"He... he said," he gulped, "that- that I'm already ugly but he's going to fuck me up so bad my own mother won't recognize me."

Silence.

The nurse coughed into her hand.

Namjoon just hummed again, trying to hold back, trying so hard not to laugh, but a snort escaped him anyway, his lips curling into a smile while he wrote the words down.

"Jin really enjoyed fucking with you, huh?"

Minho frowned, his face flooding with heat, his hands curling into fists.

"Do you think this is funny?! How dare you sit here and-" he paused abruptly, the rest of his outburst forming into a big knot in his throat.

How did the psychiatrist know Jin's name?

Namjoon set his notebook and pen down, looking up at Minho.

"Don't worry," he murmured. "I promise he's not going to hurt you."

Minho leaned back into the bedframe, trying to sink into it as the man stood up. His aura did not seem so gentle anymore, but rather intimidating as he stalked over to him, disturbingly so.

His head momentarily snapped up to the nurse. She gave him a grin so crooked and strange it made his heart sink.

"Where the hell am I?" He whispered. "I thought this was a mental hospital."

"It was," Namjoon nodded, taking a seat beside him. "Many years ago."

As soon as he was closer, Minho froze, unable to move. A horrible thought occurred to him.

"Did I die?"

Namjoon tsked.

"Of course not. How would that be any fun?"

His hand reached out towards Minho, unusually cold knuckles brushing his cheek, making him flinch.

"I wouldn't be able to hurt you much if we were both dead, would I?"

The room seemed to darken somehow, its shape distorting with dim, sickly green flashes and black shadows. The logical part of him wanted to ask if he was drugged, but deep down, he knew the truth was much worse. His hands trembled violently, a cold, dark feeling spreading through his veins, rendering him weak. He was starting to grow dizzy.

"What did I do to deserve this?" He mumbled hoarsely through dry, shaking lips.

Namjoon bent over to the chair and grabbed his notebook, flipping through the pages. His image was becoming blurry, his voice an odd echo.

"Oh, let me see. Jin noted it all down here."

He settled on a random page.

"You're a liar," he listed, "you always forget your mum's birthday... Oh my, you're a republican as well."

Minho blinked, trying to keep himself afloat, too terrified of what he would wake up to if he fainted.

Namjoon's dark, amused eyes turned towards him, his deep voice eerily calm.

"What do you think you did wrong? Hm? You took his girlfriend, and then you cheated on her as well. Repeatedly. That's not nice, Minho."

He patted his shoulder.

"Sleep well, my friend. I've been so very bored, and I want to have fun with you. I'll see you when you wake up."

Minho shook his head, like he could protest against the workings of his own body, of what was happening around him. But there was only so much distress his pounding heart could handle before it gave out altogether. White as a sheet, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, he fainted.

The last thing he saw before the darkness took him into her arms, like a mother cradling her child, was Namjoon's chilly smile.

Reported missing two days after the accident, his case remained unsolved.

💌 taglist: @wonyuknow @imnotlauriane @bucketofhiros @baalsgurl1913 @silv3rswirls @osakis-gf @iceprincessviviane

[aussiepoguepunk]

Perfect Storm pt3 (JJ Maybank x reader)

Summary: heartbreak is hurting JJ in more ways than one.

Warning: angst, mention of pain, crying, JJ's lungs, smut,

Part1 part2

_____

Why would you do that?” JJ tried to stop himself, but going on not knowing, it was killing him. In that moment JJ was more vulnerable than he had ever been in front of another living soul. He was anxious and confused, his throat burning as a consequence of the sobs that filled his sleep. Heartbreak and desperation tightening around his lungs, awaking that all too familiar pain in his chest.

 “If you rejected me, fine. If nothing happened an-and we kept-'' JJ paused, his lungs tightening. “-kept on the way we’ve always been, I-I-I wouldn’t be confused,” Tears had begun streaming down JJ’s cheeks and he didn’t care at this point. “but..but why kiss me if you were just gonna ...I-I…” JJ ran both his hands through his hair, only making it messier in doing so. “I don’t understand.” he whispered, letting himself cry again with his head in his hands. The sound of his sadness echoing quietly through the van.

Y/n felt her heart shatter. She’d made a mistake in thinking he didn’t have feelings for her.

JJ’s muscles tensed from the unexpected contact. Y/n having wrapped her arms around the boy, one around his back, the other coming under his chin.

“I’m so sorry, JJ.” She rested her head lightly on his shoulder that shook with each of the boys’ quiet cries. “I was trying to prevent anything from getting too complicated. When you said you had a thing for me I misunderstood and thought it was just in a sexual way.” She hugged him tighter. “I never meant to hurt you.”

JJ tried to stop crying but his lungs felt like they were on fire. In an attempt to cope, even though he knew it would do nothing, he clutched the fabric that covered his chest. A weak cry of pain barely leaving his mouth. 

Y/n removed her arms from around the blonde. “JJ, please stop crying” she brought her hands to his face, getting him to face her. It was then that she saw his red puffy eyes. JJ had always been a master of puppy dog eyes, so to see their beautiful blue colour stained with sadness was unbearable. He still held his chest, strands of his hair sticking out in all directions.

“It...it hurts.” JJ sobbed, beginning to move away. Y/n pulled him back to her.

“I know, sweetie. I'm so sorry. I should have talked to you about it, I was just-”

“N-No my...my lungs” he managed to correct her.

It took Y/n a second to realize what he was talking about, but once she had her only concern was him. Well, more than before. 

“Shit. Okay, do you think you can move to the back of the van? Maybe lay down.” Y/n asked, a new tone of concern and care taking over her voice. JJ only shook his head, breathing becoming more difficult as he continued to cry. 

“What-how do you usually stop the pain?” Y/n tried not to sound alarmed.

“I... c-c-calm.” JJ whimpered.

“Alright just… hey JJ...hey come on” she tried to get him to look at her again but he was beginning to panic.

There were probably a dozen other things y/n could have done but she didn’t have time to think about them all, she just went with her gut. Guiding JJ out from behind the steering wheel, she pushed his shoulders back. Y/n sat herself on one of JJ’s legs and took his face in her hands, kissing him gently. JJ froze, his breath caught in his throat, letting out a long exhale when Y/n pulled away.

“You’re okay J. I got you, alright.” she hummed. JJ looked up at her, his breathing slowly steadying as he tried to speak. “Shhh. Breathing first. Talking later.” Y/n hushed, pushing back stray hairs that had fallen on the boy's forehead.

JJ let himself lean into her touch, the fiery pain in his chest gradually dying. His fingers toyed with the hem of the sweatpants pockets to further calm his nerves and focused on Y/n as she fixed his disheveled hair, listening to her sigh quietly once she brought her attention back to him. JJ closed his eyes at the feeling of gentle hands on the back of his neck, moving his hands up from the pockets of the sweatpants to hold her sides. It was a peaceful moment, the boys breathing stabilizing as a welcoming warmth fluttered in his stomach.

After a small movement on Y/n’s behalf the warmth and anything JJ felt was feeling overshadowed, a grunt being drawn from the surfer. 

“What? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Y/n panicked, trying to move away when JJ held her sides tighter, releasing whimper that sounded desperate, and more needy.

“nothi- mmh- Nothing’s wrong, just-” He tried to speak but JJ had become painfully aware of the placement of Y/n’s knee and where it kept grazing everytime she moved while she straddled one of his legs.

“Oh, God! P-Please stop moving!” JJ pleaded, squeezing his eyes shut when Y/n’s knee brushed against his groin again.

“Am I hurting you? I-I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’d be too heavy.” With a small voice she apologised and began to push herself off of him, only to be pulled back.

“No! Fuck. You’re not too heavy, Y/n.” JJ took a quick glance between the two before letting his head fall back on the seat . “Y-Your knee just isn’t in the best place for you to keep moving around like that.” 

Her face glowed red once Y/n noticed what was happening. A tingling sensation beginning between her thighs.

“oh”

“If you could just- mgh- just give me a minute to-mmh” he stopped when she began to litter his jaw with kisses.

“I’m...here...to...help you J” she whispered against his neck.

“Let’s move to the back then” JJ gestured to the vans back seat.

A hoodie and JJ’s boxers were all that kept them apart as he pulled her to sit on his leg again, desperate kisses and needy hands bringing them closer. Gripping her hips firmly, he guided her centre to slowly rock back and forth on his thigh, cherishing the little whines she released at the contact. The pace he kept her at was torture. Fighting against JJ’s stong hold, she did anything she could to go even the slightest bit faster. 

His thigh glistened from her arousal, feeling himself grow harder while the sounds of her wetness moving against him filled his ears.

“p-ple-ease” she breathed, gripping his shoulder tightly, trying to grind down on him more.

“You want more, baby?” he teased, somehow slowing the pace even more. She nodded eagerly, biting her lip to suppress her moans.

“You can have my fingers. Do you want that, angel?” JJ slid his right hand to rest on the inside of Y/n's leg that sat between his.

“Please J” she begged, letting a needy whimper slip past her lips.

“Well since you asked so nicely...” Carefully JJ caressed her inner thigh, making his way upwards, eventually beginning to massage her. He moved his fingers up and down through her folds, spreading them apart to toy with her clit between two fingers. Y/n gasped at touch, tingles of pleasure swirling through her. But just as it had begun, it disappeared, the wonderful feeling vanishing for only a moment as JJ freed her from the hoodie that covered her naked body. He resumed his previous actions, now using his other hand to tenderly caress her breasts. 

“Move your leg over, baby” JJ instructed, removing his hands. 

"but I like it here." Y/n whined, displeased once again with the loss of touch.

JJ pulled her forward kissing her sweetly, leaning next to her ear "So do I, baby. But I'd like you grinding on my dick even more" he whispered, his sentence very near being enough to make the girl cum then and there. 

God how she wanted him, both in the purest and most scandalous way. 

Y/n shifted her body to straddle JJ, resting her hands on his stomach as he laid back against the seat. His many hours of manual labour in different jobs had most certainly played off, leaving him with an abdomen that would put famous sculptures to shame. 

Profanities fell from her mouth, rolling her hips over the surfers tightly clothed hard-on. The girl bit her lip to suppress the uncontrollable expressions of pleasure when JJ's hips bucked upwards from underneath her. 

"This is great and all babe" he panted, slowing down the pace and lifting Y/n's hips so that she would hover barely centimeters off of him. "but if we keep going, I'm gonna cum in my boxer" 

There was a moment of silence, Y/n trying to think of words to say, all sensibility blurred for pleasure. 

JJ rushed to fill the quiet "if you don't wanna go any further, tell me. I won't do anything you don't want to." He explained. 

Y/n was happy that JJ was being a gentleman about things, it was very reassuring, but right now he looked so good layed back on that seat, torso coated from perspiration as his hands gripped her thighs. She'd much prefer to skip the chivalry. 

Anticipation began to shape her thoughts, mind imagining all the ways the two of them could express their affections. She quivered feeling her wetness leek down her inner thigh, a needy whimper leaving her.

"JJ. For my sanity and yours, can we skip over the whole 'taking it slow' thing?" She pleaded, shifting under JJ's hold in desperation of any sort of friction.

Without a word the boy lifted her from his lap. The cool leather of the seat sent goosebumps rippling over her body when it came in contact with her warm skin. 

JJ stood, removing his boxers swiftly. The bulge that previously occupied his underwear had displayed his size well, his erection now free from the constricting fabric. 

The blonde kneeled between Y/n's legs, leaving a trail of kisses upwards until their eyes met once again. 

"There are so many things I wanna do to you right now." JJ sighed, moving his fingers teasing between Y/n's thighs. He was driving her crazy.

"Can you just fuck me." y/n suggested, entirely flustered. 

JJ pretend to think for a moment. "Well I suppose eating you out can wait for another time." 

Before long the van began to rock with every movement, every thrust JJ made. The sound of Y/n panting his name was as sweet as he had dreamed. 

"Sounds so beautiful, baby." He'd whisper in her ear, kissing along her jaw, every now and then groaning when her fingernails would dig into his back. All of it building, every moan and kiss leading up to their peak. 

The climax was blissful, pure serenity away from the lighting of the storm. 

JJ rested his forehead on hers, Y/n's chest heaving up and down quickly. 

"I'm really glad we could work out our differences." JJ laughed lazily. 

"oh yeah, I really think it strengthened our relationship." y/n smiled moving wet hair away from JJ's face. 

He pulled her in to rest her head on his chest. They laid there staring at the roof peaceful and content, but something seemed off with JJ. A look of concentration painted across his face, staring at the roof as thought it was presenting him with a math problem.

"You okay, J?" Y/n ask lifting her head from his chest. JJ contemplated his answer, nervous that he might mess up the moment.

"Are we- um... you and I…" he was cut off with a soft and loving kiss.

"Yeah. We are." Y/n nodded, bitting her lip.

The blanket now comfortably draped over both of them, they held each other close for the rest of the night.

_____

I feel like the ending could have been better. :/ but I still like it.

Taglist: @taylathornton @skyfallgazingstar @poguesarah @mysticalhearteagle-trin @wannabejjmaybankswhore @gia-maybank

[friendlyneighborhoodcapricorn]

hello hello lovely laurie, I've arrived finally to request something! again- I did request something before already, didn't I? well your writing is so wholesome and you're so talented that I cannot help myself but return for another ask~

would you write headcanons about dating my adorable sarcastic runner boy for me? I'm such a minho simp that it's grown into almost a problem.. but what a glorious character james created! honestly, how does anyone not fall to their knees when they catch even a glimpse of minho?? I don't think I'll ever be able to understand people like that-

I've written literal essays about how perfect this man is and I'm not even going to deny any word in them. he's a sassy little shit with way too much confidence - and the thing is that he's so right about it too! he's got every right to be such a pain in my ass and we all know that I'm just complaining about it because I'm totally playing his game

Oh my god, that’s too sweet, thank you <3

And of course you can have some Minho headcanons. You even get a gif, as a *drum rolls* gift! That was lame, I’ll see myself out lol.

Dating Minho headcanons

He wakes you up in the middle of the night and asks you to go for a walk around the Glade. He won’t let you go back to sleep until you say yes.

So there you two are, walking along the walls of the Glade in the dark, hoping you don’t break your neck tripping over a rock.

“Minho, why am I not sleeping peacefully in my warm bed right now?”

“Patience is a virtue, gorgeous.”

You repeat variations on the conversation above about five times, and you only stop asking because if you have to hear some sassy response again, you might actually knock him out and go back to bed.

But then you reach the entrance to the maze and he stops and sits down on the grass, gesturing for you to the same.

“You dragged me out of bed so we could come sit on wet grass?” you ask.

“Ssh. Just… give me a second okay.”

So you both sit in silence for a while.

It’s exceptionally quiet in the Glade; even the shifting stone of the maze is barely audible.

Even Newt, who’s known to wander the Glade at night to keep an eye on everyone, isn’t out tonight.

“Every day,” Minho starts then, “I go out there.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

“Can you please just let me talk?” he asks, rolling his eyes. “Okay, so I go out there every day to find a way out of this place. And you don’t want to know how many times I thought about just stopping. Just quitting the Runners. It’s been three years and we still haven’t found a way out. It’s hopeless, right?”

“Why haven’t you?”

“I was getting to that.”

That’s when you notice how nervous he seems. He’s fiddling with the hem of his shirt, not meeting your eyes.

“Minho, what’s going on?”

“I run that maze every day because of you.”

“Are you that scared of me?” you tease.

He grabs your hands. “(Y/N), please.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll shut up.”

“I go out there every day, not because I want to get out of here, but because I want to get you out of here. You deserve better than being trapped here.”

“Minho, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you’re the reason behind everything I do.”

And then he kisses you, short and sweet, because he knows it’ll be clearer than trying to explain his feelings.

“Not that I didn’t thoroughly enjoy that, but what was it for?”

Minho, regretting all his life decisions: “If you’re serious right now…”

“Kidding, kidding.”

He never actually asks you out, but after that kiss, you both know how the other feels, so it doesn’t feel weird that he never did.

Now that the two of you are actually together, Newt probably fears for his sanity lol.

Threatening him into not getting stuck in the maze.

“If you get stuck in there, I will climb that wall and kill you faster than any griever can.”

99% of your conversations consist of sarcastic back and forths.

In case you’re a Runner, you never run together. It would be too distracting and dangerous.

Dates in the Glade are a little hard, but Minho will occasionally take you up the lookout tower.

And sometimes, he’ll wake you up in the middle of the night for a walk around the moonlit Glade :)

Thank you for the request! I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you enjoy it despite me getting a little sidetracked lmao

[toscrollperchancetomeme]

Lestat de Lioncourt - A playlist

So, guess who made a Lestat Playlist (like there aren't enough already) and decided to sit down for 4-6 hours to find some excerpt corresponding with each song? Featuring 80s and 90s music (clearly showing my age...) as well as many european songs and showtunes. Enjoy!

1. Cathedrals – Ramin Karimloo (Original by Jump, Little Children)

In the cathedrals of New York and Rome There is a feeling that you should just go home And spend the lifetime finding out just where that is

And that was not a good year for me. I was wandering aimlessly. I was sick of things. I was furious with myself that the „beauty“ of life wasn't sustaining me, wasn't making my loneliness bearable.

I wanted to join them. Always do want to join them and never do. „Go home,“ he whispered. - Prince Lestat

(I actually feel like there are quotes that would correspond to this song in every one of the books and indeed have not yet found any other song that captures the general spirit of The Vampire Chronicles as perfectly.)

2. Edge of Seventeen – Stevie Nicks

Well, I went today Maybe I will go again tomorrow Yeah yeah, well, the music there Well, it was hauntingly familiar Well, I see you doing what I try to do for me With the words from a poet and a voice from a choir And a melody, and nothing else mattered

He sat next to me, hugging me and asking me why I was crying, and though I couldn't tell him, I could see that he was overwhelmed that his music had produced this effect. There was no sarcasm or bitterness in him now. I think he carried me home that night. And the next morning I was standing in the crooked stone street in front of his father's shop, tossing pebbles up at his window. When he stuck his head out, I said: „Do you want to come down and go on with our conversation?“ - The Vampire Lestat

3. I ain't scared of lightning – Tom McRae

No I ain't scared of lightning And thunder never killed I was born in a summer storm and I live there still

I wasn't part of the world that cringed at such things. And with a smile, I realized that I was of that dark ilk that makes others cringe. Slowly and with great pleasure, I laughed.

And the labor that brought it forth was rapture such as I have never known. - The Vampire Lestat

4. Junge Roemer – Falco (Young Romans – Full Translation)

Don't ask for new old values See white light, see only feeling The night is ours till morning We play every game Don't ever let this journey end The doing comes only from the being Only from dimensions, that Are worth illusions and sensations Give me more, give me more, give me more...

... and again she laughed. „Ah, but we are splendid devils, aren't we?“ „Hunters of the Savage Garden,“ I said. „Then let's go into Paris,“ she said. - The Vampire Lestat

5. Running up that hill – Candy Says (Original by Kate Bush

If I only could, I'd make a deal with God, And I'd get him to swap our places, Be running up that road, Be running up that hill, Be running up that building,

„Not even with Nicolas?“ „No, god, no!“ I looked at her. She nodded slightly as if she approved of this answer. „Why not with Nicolas?“ she asked. I wanted this to stop. „Because he's young,“ I said, „and he has life before him.“ - The Vampire Lestat

6. Florence – Notre Dame de Paris (Full Translation)

The little things always triumph over the large And literature will kill architecture The school books will kill the cathedrals The Bible will kill the Church, and man will kill God This will kill that

„I never lived in it. I push against the glass. But how do I get in?“ „I can't tell you that,“ I said. „You have to study this age,“ Gabrielle interrupted. Her voice was calm but commanding. He looked towards her as she spoke. „You have to understand the age,“ she continued, „through its literature and its music and its art. You have come up out of the earth, as you yourself put it. Now live in the world.“ No answer from him. Flash of Nicki's ravaged flat with all its books on the floor. Western civilization in heaps. - The Vampire Lestat

7. Go your own way – Fleetwood Mac

Loving you isn't the right thing to do How can I ever change things that I feel

If I could maybe I'd give you my world How can I when you won't take it from me

You can go your own way You can call it another lonely day

„Keep your promise,“ she said. And quite suddenly I knew this was our last moment. I knew it and I could do nothing to change it. „Gabrielle!“ I whispered. But she was already gone. - The Vampire Lestat

8. Désenchantée – Olympe (Original by Myléne Farmer - Full Translation)

If death is a mystery Life isn't exactly tender If heaven has a hell Then heaven can still wait for me Tell me how to handle this headwind Nothing makes sense anymore, nothing's fine

Laughter. That insane music. That din, that dissonance, that never ending shrill articulation of the meaninglessness... Am I awake? Am I asleep? I am sure of one thing. I am a monster. And because I lie in torment in the earth, certain human beings move on through the narrow pass of life unmolested. - The Vampire Lestat

9. A kind of magic – Queen

The bell that rings inside your mind Is challenging the doors of time It's a kind of magic The waiting seems eternity The day will dawn of sanity

And quite completely I understood that it was looking for me, this sound, it was seeking me out.

Blood like light itself, liquid fire.

It seemed beneath the roar of the flow he spoke. He said again: „Drink, my young one, my wounded one.“ I felt his heart swell, his body undulate, and we were sealed against each other. I think I heard myself say: „Marius.“ And he answered: „Yes.“ - The Vampire Lestat

10. La quête – Bruno Pelletier (French version of „The Impossible Dream“ from Man of La Mancha)

To try when your arms are too weary To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest To follow that star Ooh, no matter how hopeless No matter how far

I would remain in New Orleans if New Orleans could only manage to remain. Whatever I suffered should be lessened in this lawless place, whatever I craved should give me more pleasure once I had it in my grasp. And there were moments on that first night in this fetid little paradise when I prayed that in spite of all my secret power, I was somehow kin to every mortal man. - The Vampire Lestat

11. Wicked Game – Chris Isaak

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

Yet Louis gained a hold over me far more powerful than Nicolas had ever had. Even in his cruelest moments, Louis touched the tenderness in me, seducing me with his staggering dependence, his infatuation with my every gesture and every spoken word. - The Vampire Lestat

12. Do I disappoint you – Rufus Wainwright

Do I disappoint you, in just being human? And not one of the elements that you can light your cigar on Why does it always have to be fire? Why does it always have to be brimstone?

„And suppose the vampire who made you knew nothing, and the vampire before him knew nothing, and so it goes back and back, nothing proceeding from nothing, until there is nothing! And we must live with the knowledge that there is no knowledge!“ „Yes!“ he cried out suddenly, his hands out, his voice tinged with something other than anger.

And then I sensed it. He was afraid. Lestat afraid. - Interview with the Vampire

13. Ordinary World – Duran Duran

What has happened to it all? Crazy, some'd say Where is the life that I recognize? Gone away

But I won't cry for yesterday There's an ordinary world Somehow I have to find And as I try to make my way To the ordinary world I will learn to survive

I do not remember when it became the twentieth century, only that everything was uglier and darker, and the beauty I'd known in the old eighteenth-century days seemed more than ever some kind of fanciful idea. - The Vampire Lestat

14. I'm still standing – Taron Egerton (Original by Elton John)

And there's a cold lonely light that shines from you You'll wind up like the wreck you hide behind that mask you use And did you think this fool could never win? Well look at me, I'm coming back again

But after the third night up, I was roaring around New Orleans on a big black Harley-Davidson motorcycle making plenty of noise myself. […] I was the vampire Lestat again. I was back in action. New Orleans was once again my hunting ground. - The Vampire Lestat

15. Catch my fall – Billy Idol

I have the time so I will sing, yeah I'm just a boy but I will win, yeah Lost song of lovers, fellow travelers, yeah Leave me sad and hollow out of words

It could happen to you so think for yourself If I should stumble, catch my fall, yeah

I've survived, obviously. I wouldn't be talking to you if I hadn't. And the cosmic dust has finally settled; and the small rift in the world's fabric of rational beliefs has been mended, or at least closed. I'm a little sadder for all of it, and a little meaner and a little more conscientious as well. - The Queen of the Damned

16. I want it all – Queen

I'm a man with a one track mind So much to do in one lifetime (people do you hear me) Not a man for compromise and where's and why's and living lies So I'm living it all, yes I'm living it all And I'm giving it all, and I'm giving it all

It is not enough any longer that my little rock band be successful. We must create a fame that will carry my name and my voice to the remotest parts of the world. - The Vampire Lestat

17. Let me entertain you – Robbie Williams

Hell is gone and heaven's here There's nothing left for you to fear Shake your arse come over here Now scream

I'm a burning effigy Of everything I used to be You're my rock of empathy, my dear

So come on let me entertain you

"I AM THE VAMPIRE LESTAT!" I shouted at the top of my lungs as I stepped way back from the microphone, and the sound was almost visible as it arched over the length of the oval theater, and the voice of the crowd rose even higher, louder, as if to devour the ringing sound. - The Vampire Lestat

18. La bien qui fait mal – Mozart l'Opera Rock (Full translation)

I can feel a violent urge I feel like I'm sliding towards the ground If I don't find out where this plague is coming from I adore having it under my skin Bewitched by mad ideas Suddenly all my cravings take off The desire becomes my prison Until I loose my mind

Yet I was in her arms in this chilling darkness, in the familiar scent of winter, and her blood was mine again, and it was enslaving me. When she drew away, I felt agony. - The Queen of the Damned

19. Tainted Love – Soft Cell

And you think love is to pray But I'm sorry I don't pray that way Once I ran to you Now I'll run from you This tainted love you've given I give you all a boy could give you Take my tears and that's not living, oh

„What do you think I am that I am so easily swayed? I was born a Queen. I have always ruled; even from the shrine I ruled." Her eyes were glazed suddenly. I heard the voices, a dull hum rising. "I ruled if only in legend; if only in the minds of those who came to me and paid me tribute. Princes who played music for me; who brought me offerings and prayers. What do you want of me now? That for you, I renounce my throne, my destiny!" What answer could I make? - The Queen of the Damned

20. Dancing in the Dark – Ruth Moody (Original by Bruce Springsteen)

They say you gotta stay hungry Hey baby, I'm just about starvin' tonight I'm dyin' for some action I'm sick of sittin' 'round here tryin' to write this book I need a love reaction Come on now, baby, gimme just one look

"I want you to put the book aside and come join us," he said. "You've been locked in here for over a month." "I go out now and then," I said. I liked looking at him, at the neon blue of his eyes.

"Do you love me now?" I asked. He smiled; oh, it was excruciating to see his face soften and brighten simultaneously when he smiled. "Yes," he said. "Want to go on a little adventure?" My heart was thudding suddenly. It would be so grand if- "Want to break the new rules?" "What in the world do you mean?" he whispered. - The Queen of the Damned

21. I want you – Savage Garden

Oh, I want you, I don't know if I need you But oh, I would die to find out

"You don't think you'll be back?" he asked. "I think you will, whether I call or not." Another little surprise. A little stab of humiliation. I smiled at him in spite of myself. He was a very interesting man. "You silver-tongued British bastard," I said. "How dare you say that to me with such condescension? Maybe I should kill you right now."

I thought of David Talbot's face, and that moment when he'd challenged me. Well, maybe he was right. I'd be back. Who said I couldn't come back and talk to him if I wanted to? - The Queen of the Damned

22. Lay your hands on me – Bon Jovi

I'm a fighter, I'm a poet, I'm a preacher I've been to school, oh baby, I've been the teacher If you show me how to get up off the ground I can show you how to fly and never ever come back down

I sat down on the bed beside him. And then I bent down and kissed his face again gently, as I had in New Orleans, liking the feel of his roughly shaven beard, just as I liked that sort of thing when I was really Lestat and I would soon have that strong masculine blood inside. I moved closer to him, when suddenly he grasped my hand, and I felt him gently push me away. „Why, David?“ I asked him. He didn't answer. He lifted his right hand and brushed my hair back out of my eyes. „I don't know,“ he whispered. „I can't. I simply can't.“ - The Tale of the Body Thief

23. 20th Century Boy – Placebo (Original by T-Rex)

I move like a cat, charge like a ram Sting like a bee, babe, I wanna be your man, hey!

He drew back with a speed that astonished me, cleaving to the wall. „Don't do this, Lestat.“ „Don't fight me, old friend. You waste your effort. You have a long night of discovery ahead.“ - The Tale of the Body Thief

24. Way down we go – KALEO

Oh, Father tell me, do we get what we deserve? Whoa, we get what we deserve And way down we go

„In chains, to my friend and my scribe, I dictated these words. Come with me. Just listen to me. Don't leave me alone.“ - Memnoch the Devil

25. Personal Jesus – Depeche Mode

Reach out, touch faith

"Don't tell me," Gabrielle said slurringly, "that it's a matter of faith." She sneered and shook her head. "You come like doubting Thomas to thrust your bloody fangs in the very wound." "Oh, stop, please, I beg you," I whispered. I put up my hands. "Let me try, and let him hurt me, and then be satisfied, and turn away." - The Vampire Armand

26. Papillon – Editors

Darling Just don't put down your guns yet If there really was a God here He'd have raised a hand by now Now darling You're born, get old, then die here Well that's quite enough for me We'll find our own way home somehow

"And if I spill my blood down into this coffin now," Lestat asked her, "what do you think will come back? Do you think it will be our Louis that will rise in these burnt rags? What if it's not, chérie, what if it's some wounded revenant that we must destroy?" "Choose life, Lestat," she said. - Merrick

27. Sunday Light – Choir Boy

Why, why, why, are you silent on the ride home? I'd love to see the temple with you Heavenly and bright, golden angel twisted scathing You were one of us, one of us, one of us, you were one of us

"Then come, Little Brother, take me to where you want to talk," he said, and I felt the soft squeeze of his fingers on my arm. "Why are you so kind to me?" I asked him. "You're used to people being paid to do it, aren't you?" he asked. - Blackwood Farm

28. Für mich solls rote Rosen regnen – Hildegard Knef (It should rain red roses for me - Full translation)

It should rain red roses for me All wonders should encounter me The world should rearrange itself And keep its worries to itself

I want to be a saint. I want to save souls by the millions. I want to do good far and wide. I want to fight evil! I want my life-sized statue in every church. I'm talking six feet tall, blond hair, blue eyes- Wait a second. Do you know who I am? - Blood Canticle

29. Constant Craving – K. D. Lang

Even through the darkest phase Be it thick or thin Always someone marches brave Here beneath my skin And constant craving Has always been

I was hunting, thirsting though I didn't need to drink, at the mercy of the craving, the deep agonizing lust for heated pumping human blood. - Prince Lestat

30. Kalte Sterne – Jan Ammann (Cold Stars from the musical Ludwig² - Full translation)

Get up, ride home, on your horse, through your land Across the morning with your reins trailing behind you Build a castle like a dream, build it with mighty hands And it shall be named „future“

Build a castle like a dream Up from the ashes and close to the heavens Build a castle like a dream And realise the future as king

If we wanted to survive, if we wanted to inherit the millenia […] then we had to meet the future with respect as well as courage and count fear and selfishness to be small things. - Prince Lestat and the realms of Atlantis

31. C'est une belle journée – Mylene Farmer (Full translation)

I'm going to bed To bite eternity With my mouth wide open It's a beautiful day

And I felt the cold numbing shell of alienation and despair which had imprisoned me all of my life among the Undead – I felt that shell cracked, broken, and dissolved utterly into infinitesimal fragments. - Blood Communion

32. Princes of the Universe – Queen

Fly the moon and reach for the stars With my sword and head held high Got to pass the test first time, yeah I know that people talk about me, I hear it every day But I can prove them wrong 'cause I'm right first time

„I know that you meant full well to bring Rhoshamandes down, of course you did. But you had no way of knowing that you could. And no one would have predicted that you could. And with the willingness to die, you gave yourself over into his hands... and you disarmed him and destroyed him.“ – Blood Communion

And finally, because I can, a bonus track:

33. Primadonna – MARINA

And I'm sad to the core, core, core Every day is a chore, chore, chore When you give, I want more, more, more I wanna be adored

[thesurielships]

"I love you." "No you don't." + "You deserve so much better." for Cruel Intentions, maybe? i'm scared of what i'm asking for lmao

ivy (feysand)

note: hey! thank you for the prompt. i don’t see it fitting into cruel intentions, and it somehow worked itself into this one. i hope you don’t mind :))

also this is a whopping 3.5k, which is massive for me, and it’s a bitch to edit. but i will not say anything negative. i hope you enjoy!

evermore | masterlist | ao3

in from the snow, your touch brought forth an incandescent glow

Winter was a dreadful season in Springtime, which Feyre always found quite ironic. However, it was a fact she had grown to treasure as she watched her mother and Tamlin go to the stone every day, keeping her father better company than he’d ever had when he was alive.

Feyre smirked as flurries of snow hit the glass windows of the library. The howling wind was like music to her ears, a heady promise of the suffering of her two least favorite people in the world.

Ah, it really is the little things.

Suddenly, a rock slammed against the window, jolting her out of her content musings. Her hand flew to her heart, reigning in the sudden panic. Another rock hit the glass, then another, and Feyre jerked the window open before a fourth could effectively break it and ruin her only refuge in Springtime.

She scowled down at the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this isn’t a door, sir.”

His answering grin was cocky, self-assured and way too attractive for a stranger drenched in snow and shooting rocks at unsuspecting windows.

“But you answered all the same.”

Her fists clenched, longing to make contact with his perfect face, but she remembered he was out in the snow and she was inside, near a blazing fire. Instead, she shot him a saccharine smile. “May I ask who you are?”

“I am freezing.”

A dry laugh escaped her, surprising her. It had been a while since she had laughed at all. “That does not answer my question.”

He shrugged impossibly wide shoulders, and Feyre was momentarily side tracked by the way his riding clothes hugged his powerful figure.

“Where is your horse?” she belatedly asked, after she had meticulously perused him.

He tilted his head, a knowing smile curving his lips. “In the stables.”

“Are you ever going to give me a straight answer?”

“Only if you let me in.”

She rolled her eyes, and was about to shoo him away when the wind picked up and snow blasted inside the room. She trembled in her thin gown, and dared a glance at the handsome stranger. His teeth were chattering.

Her hesitation must have shown on her face, because he was soon jumping up, offering her his hands. She didn’t let herself think about it before she grabbed them and pulled.

He was heavy and his hands were indeed freezing, but between her wheezing efforts and the way he gracefully scaled the wall, they managed to get him up and through the window before they both fell into a heaving heap on the floor.

“So?” Feyre inquired, still panting.

He sat up and crossed his legs. “I am Rhysand.”

He offered no title, no last name, yet she knew exactly who he was.

Tamlin’s long sworn enemy and diplomatic friend.

Surprise and delight glimmered in his eyes. Eyes she could now see were a lovely shade of violet. “You know who I am.”

“Who doesn’t?” she shot back defiantly as she stood up, straightening her dress.

“Ah,” his eyes followed her as she closed the window and checked on the fire. “My reputation precedes me.”

“Indeed.”

“So does yours, Miss Feyre Archeron.”

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Indeed.”

He chuckled. “A woman of few words, I see.”

“And a man who insists on sitting on the ground when a lady is standing next to him.”

“Forgive me,” he said unapologetically as he rose to his full height, towering over her and suddenly closer than she had expected. Her breath caught. “I tend to forget my manners.”

 my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand, taking mine, but it's been promised to another

The next time Feyre saw Rhysand, he strode in through the doors of the library. He was staying at Springtime manor as Tamlin’s guest, awaiting the upcoming house party. She was surprised to find him here as he had all but pretended she didn’t exist the past few days.

“Is this what you call character growth?” she asked from her perch near the fire, closing her book around her finger to mark the page she was reading.

His steps were languid but assured as he prowled towards her, and Feyre’s heart rate picked up. Anticipation pooled like hot liquid in her gut, and she reflexively licked her lips. His eyes tracked the motion, irises darkening. His steps stuttered for a brief second before his insufferably irreverent smirk was back on lips that had felt sinfully soft on the back of her hand. Customary greeting kisses were dreadfully brief.

“Character growth,” he repeated, “is what is going to hit you, Feyre darling.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the unexpected endearment. Heat rushed to her face and she scowled at the cause of the troubles of her bodily functions.

“I am not leaving this spot.”

“Not even for an adventure?” he asked, gesturing to the book in her lap. The adventures of Tom Sawyer.

There was no stopping her curiosity, so she didn’t even try. “What adventure?”

His only answer was a mysterious grin, and soon Feyre was riding astride a magnificent horse, her hair whipping around her and her shouts of glee resonating in the forest surrounding the manor.

She had always wanted to explore it, but Tamlin was always too busy or it was too cold, or her mother needed to visit her father’s grave, again. The Cauldron only knew there was no love lost between her parents, and Feyre wondered what the real reason behind these daily visits was. She didn’t care enough to find out, and refused to join them even when they asked.

Why would she, when it was the perfect opportunity for sneaking off?

“Where are we going?”

“To the top of the world.”

She snorted at his cheesy reply, but soon enough, they stopped at the edge of a cliff overlooking sprawling woods of snow covered pines. Feyre’s eyes went wide, drinking in the details she hoped she could one day get right on canvas.

“Doesn’t this beat books?” came Rhysand’s cocky question.

She gave him a smirk. “Barely.”

He kept quiet as she marveled at the beauty unfurling in front of her. From her vantage point, she could see kilometers upon kilometers of dense woods. Snow gilded the majestic pine trees in glittering silver, and the occasional bird squawked in delight as it flew overhead.

Her shoulders loosened and a wide smile broke free. She really felt like she was on top of the world.

That must be why she was intrigued and all too willing to follow Rhysand as he guided her to their next destination, though she doubted anything could surpass this.

“It has just occurred to me that I am a very easy target right now,” Feyre remarked as he signaled for her to slow her horse.

“Target for what, darling?”

“Murder,” she supplied helpfully. “Or maybe something more romantic. Like the ravishing of a maiden,” she mused aloud, her gaze carefully trained on his face.

He rolled his eyes, the smallest smile pulling one side of his lips upward. “You seem to be the one with ulterior motives.”

She shrugged.

“Hardly. You –” The words died on her tongue as her eyes fell on a pocket of swirling starlight, tucked right there into the icy muddy ground.

“What’s that?” she breathed quietly, afraid to shatter the illusion.

“A pond.”

She whipped her head towards a smirking Rhysand. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Are you by any chance… Fae?”

He blinked, then threw his head back and roared. Feyre couldn’t stop her smile as he laughed himself to tears.

“What kind of books have you been reading, darling?”

She raised her chin. “Good ones.”

He shook his head, his smile tainted with surprise and disbelief. He jumped off his horse and tied it to a nearby tree. Feyre peered at the ground uneasily. She could mount a horse just fine, but she always had trouble getting down.

Rhysand offered her a hand silently, without teasing.

She accepted it, with no comment on his freezing hands.

Incandescent warmth spread out from their twined hands and seeped through her ribs to pour into her chest. Rhysand was staring at her in wonder, and she pulled away before she did something reckless.

Like ravishing him.

As if he was privy to her depraved thoughts, he barely turned around before he started to undress. His shirt, then his breeches fell to the ground, and the warmth veered south as she beheld his muscled back.

“It’s so warm,” he purred as he stepped into the water. “Legend has it Hell is just under here.”

Feyre gave his back an unimpressed look.

“Or maybe it’s my magic.” He peeked over his shoulder just as her eyes caught on the drops of water racing down his neck. “Are you just going to stand and stare?”

Her spine straightened at the challenge in his voice. She undressed slowly, putting on a show, but he averted his eyes, suddenly a gentleman.

Feyre’s dress joined his clothes on the muddy ground, and she joined him in the hot waters.

In a rare moment of clarity, she realized this was no feat of magic, and no work of Hell.

The water was boiling from the fire blazing under her skin.

he's in the room, your opal eyes are all I wish to see

If she had to accept another stranger’s congratulations on her proposal, Feyre was going to lose her sanity.

It hadn’t been three months since her father’s death, yet her mother thought a ball would be a good idea. What better way to announce her engagement to Lord Tamlin, duke of Springtime, and bore extraordinaire?

The ton didn’t comment on the rushed festivities. Just like they didn’t comment on their living together or his lingering touches when they still weren’t married. They were willing to overlook anything for their favorite, after all.

They had even managed to forget that Feyre had rejected him for only a thousand times before her father’s death. Before her mother accepted for her, hoping her last unmarried daughter would ensnare a rich, titled husband to fund her extravagant widow lifestyle.

Feyre breathed through her nose, clenching her teeth so hard she was surprised people bought her sorry excuse of a smile. Tamlin’s hand was a heavy weight on her shoulder as he paraded her from guest to guest, showing off his win.

Little did he know, he had won nothing at all.

Even in the crowded room, even with him by her side, her eyes were drawn to Rhysand like a moth to a flame. He was leaning against a corner, looking all dark and broody as he drank her future husband’s brandy.

“She is also an excellent pianist,” Tamlin’s remark registered in her dazed mind and Feyre smiled at the old lady he was talking to.

“I only believe what I witness,” the old lady’s smile was cunning.

Dread fell like heavy bricks in Feyre’s gut.

“It would be my pleasure,” she curtsied before making her way confidently to the piano. She sat with her back straight and her fingers primly poised on the white keys.

Rhysand tilted his head imperceptibly, and she shot him a secret smile before she started the melody.

The ton oohed and aahed, her betrothed preened, and she felt a savage kind of delight as she played the song Rhys had taught her on one of their late night escapades.

Fingers brushing and violet eyes twinkling were all she could see as the music seemed to take a life of its own, racing towards its roaring crescendo.

Then sudden silence. And loud applause.

In the glory of the moment, she didn’t notice Rhysand approach her until he was bowing over her hand and asking for a dance she pretended to reluctantly accept.

That night, the ton had to overlook the scandal of a betrothed woman waltzing with another man five times in a row.

oh, I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland

“You didn’t mention you’re a painter.”

Feyre jumped, deflecting her paintbrush just in time before paint sprayed on her morning’s work.

“You know, Rhysand, when someone tells you to make yourself at home, they seldom mean it literally.”

He smiled that mischievous smile that set her heart racing and her core aflame.

“I knew you liked the scenery,” he said, gesturing to her rendition of the pool of starlight.

She shrugged. “It’s a wonder I remember what it looked like. I wasn’t looking.”

He opened his mouth, outraged, but then he caught the coy look she sent him from under her eyelashes. He swallowed audibly.

She put her brush down and stood slowly. She took one step towards him. He mirrored her movement, and soon they met in the middle.

“Were you thinking of your book?” he whispered.

She shook her head. “I was... distracted.”

Her gaze snagged on his mouth. Blood rushed in her ears, her breathing growing labored as all her focus honed in on his tongue licking his lips.

“I… You… I should…” his voice was flustered. The smooth and suave Rhysand of Nightsky turned into a blushing mess before her eyes. “My cousin is calling me. I will see you at dinner, Miss.”

As Rhysand all but ran away from her, Feyre let her imagination run free. For the first time since her father’s death, she let herself dream of a happy future. Of a future that was wholly and thoroughly hers.

 spring breaks loose, but so does fear

When Feyre found a note hidden in the pages of the book she was currently reading, she wasn’t the least bit surprised.

‘Meet me where the spirit meets the bones.’

Stars were her only guide as she sneaked out of the mansion, her heavy cloak unnecessary in the warm night.

She hadn’t made it past the gilded gates when strong hands plucked her away from the dirt trail and pulled her against a deliciously warm chest. Feyre melted instantly.

“The graveyard, Rhys?”

His chuckle tickled the skin of her neck. “I was curious what all the fuss was about.”

“Knowing my mother – and Tamlin, too – they probably found some treasure hidden in a tomb somewhere, and they’re trying to sneakily bring it back.”

Rhys’ smile was fond as he twirled her around in his arms and settled his hands on the small of her back, beneath her cloak.

She yelped. “Your hands are freezing!”

He raised an eyebrow as if to say, exactly.

She scowled at him but nuzzled closer, inhaling his scent deeply.

The trees around the graveyard were rumored to be hollow. Indeed, the wind blowing through them played a melody that others may have found eerie, but that they gently swayed to.

“Spring is near,” Feyre addressed his chest, her voice soft.

“It is.”

A beat of silence.

“Why won’t you ask me to run?”

No answer came.

Feyre lifted her head so she could meet his eyes. “My wedding approaches, Rhysand.”

His throat bobbed. “I know.”

“Are you just going to watch me marry him? Bear him children?”

He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath.

She jerked away from him as if he had burned her. “Oh my Gods, you are.”

Realization was swift and cruel and it cut her heart into a million little pieces. Everything clicked in her head, and she was such a fool.

“Was this just a game to you?” she asked, horrified. “Did it give you some sort of sick satisfaction to make your enemy’s bride fall in love with you?”

His eyes went wide at her hysterical confession.

“I should have known,” she muttered to herself as she turned away from him. She was such an idiot, and she couldn’t bear to look at his smug face.

His hand wrapped around her forearm and she paused.

“You deserve better, Feyre.”

She whirled on him. “Seriously? That’s your excuse?” He flinched. “You think I am not aware of my own value? I chose you over Tamlin for a reason, you prick!” she poked his chest hard and his eyes flared.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What?” she screeched. She could not believe her own ears. That Rhysand would turn out to be so condescending… she must be a worse judge of character than she thought. “Then enlighten me. What’s this fatal flaw that makes you so utterly unloveable?”

His jaw clenched. Unclenched. Clenched again, and just when she thought he would not speak, he said in a voice so soft she thought she misheard him, “I am a bastard.”

“What?”

“My mother’s.”

Feyre could only stare.

“My father kept me to avoid scandal,” he continued, his tone flat and oddly detached. “And he wrote me out of his will the day I was born.”

She gaped at him.

“That is why I could never dare to proposition you, Feyre. Even before you were engaged.”

Feyre was pretty sure her brain was about one shock away from shutting down. “You knew me before?”

A small smile curved his lips. “Naturally.”

She sputtered. “What – How – ”

“I am penniless, and soon to be title less. There is nothing I can offer you but my heart.”

“You love me?” she breathed. It was the only important thing among all the nonsense he was spewing.

“I do,” he confirmed even as he let her go and stepped back, resignation clear in his face.

Feyre’s anger blazed anew. “You don’t love me, Rhysand,” she spat his name as if it was an insult. “If you did, you would fight for me.”

This time, he didn’t stop her as she left, every step heavier than the last.

 it's the goddamn fight of my life, and you started it

Rhysand really had a bad habit of taking things too literally. Feyre would have found this quirk endearing, if she wasn’t running barefoot through a clover field to reach him before he threw himself to his death.

Her mother had woken her up an hour before dawn, overjoyed at the prospect of a duke and a future earl dueling for her daughter’s hand.

Sure enough, three figures appeared on the horizon, just on the edge of the woods encircling the Springtime domain. Each was walking towards a different direction.

No, no, no, the duel had already started.

She picked up speed even though her feet bled and her lungs burned. She was almost there, only a few yards away when the shots rang out, bullets blazing in the dark.

Feyre reached Rhysand as he fell to the ground and she clutched him in her arms, blood seeping into her dress. Horror held her heart in an iron fist, and she struggled to breathe -

“Feyre, darling.”

Her eyes snapped to his face. The prick had the audacity to smile at her.

“You’re bleeding,” she hissed.

A wet laugh rasped out of his chest. “I know.”

She was wild with panic as she pushed at his clothes, trying to find the wound so she could do something, anything to stop the blood flow.

“Leave the loving exploration for our wedding night, darling.”

She shot him an incredulous look before resuming her exploration. His chest and stomach were clear. Her eyes dropped to his thighs. His pants were torn and blood dribbled from the shallowest bullet wound she had ever seen.

Relief slammed into her and she fell to the ground.

“What were you thinking?” she breathed, her voice thick with tears.

His eyes were swirling with so much love and adoration they took the breath right out of her lungs.

“That I was an idiot. That you are more than capable of making your own decisions, and if you decide to be with me, then it is an honor that I will fight for. If you will have me, Feyre, I’ll try every day to be worthy of you.”

Tears ran down her cheeks, and she turned on her side, reaching for his hand and entwining their fingers.

“You are an idiot,” she said, staring at his thumb as it brushed soothing strokes into the back of her hand. “You’re already worthy. And if you ever put yourself in harm’s way for me again, I will shoot you in the groin.”

“Duly noted.”

Distance sobs reached her. Far out on the field, her mother was hunched over a limp and bloody Tamlin.

“Well, that’ll give her another reason to go to the stone.”

Rhysand barked out a laugh. “Maybe that’s a habit we should start too, darling. Maybe we can find our own treasure, too.”

Feyre leaned over and brushed her lips against his. “I already found mine.”

note: the original plan was for Rhys to die in the duel. but thank God for my fluffy, hopelessly romantic heart.

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[rottenpumpkin13]

How would AGSZC react if they had to spend one week working at a retail job?

Sephiroth: His disdain for humanity is palpable. His tone is dry and clipped. His patience as thin as the thread holding his sanity together. He hates stocking shelves but does it anyway because it's less annoying than dealing with people. Every time a customer asks him to check the back for an item, Sephiroth goes back there and screams into a cupboard. He spends an hour staring into space in the break room, quietly contemplating how much effort it would take to burn the store down without leaving evidence.

Customer: "The milk was cheaper yesterday." Sephiroth: "And I was happier yesterday when I wasn't having this conversation. Unfortunately, both the milk and I are subject to the relentless march of time. The difference is the milk gets to expire quicker to escape this mortal coil."

Angeal: He's the employee everyone loves. His smile is warm, he's patient, and he genuinely seems to enjoy helping people. He's unnervingly good at handling difficult customers. A woman demanding a refund for a clearly worn pair of shoes leaves apologizing and feeling better about herself. He even offers advice to customers about practical purchases, and sneaks free samples of store-brand snacks to them.

Genesis: At first he's all smiles, ready to help and to chat up customers, ready to be completely in his element by helping them pick out items. This doesn't happen. It takes exactly one customer interaction to ruin him.

Customer: "Does this Banora White juice come in another flavor? I'm not a fan of apples." Genesis: :) *this is how Angeal has to pry a Banora White juice can from Genesis' handsbefore he uses it to hack open the customer's skull*

By hour two, he's locked in the break room, rocking back and forth, muttering Loveless passages like dark incantations. By hour three, he's rearranged all the clearance signs to spell out "Abandon hope, all ye who enter here." By hour four, he quits dramatically, throwing his name tag on the floor and as he storms out, all for the crowd he assumes is watching. "Thus concludes the chapter of my servitude. Retail is a blight upon the soul."

Zack: He's a golden retriever in human form. He's energetic, enthusiastic, and genuinely excited to help customers. He's everywhere at once; helping customers, restocking shelves, cracking jokes over the intercom, but has bad habit of oversharing. A customer asks for shoe recommendations, and he ends up telling them about the curious case of Gongaga's mass foot fungus of '92. His only flaw is that he's too helpful.

Customer: "I need directions to the bathroom." Zack, with a map: "Here's the fastest route, alternate routes in case of congestion, my personal rankings of every bathroom in the store AND the key to the cupboard where we keep the good toilet paper." Customer: "But I—" Zack: "So how are your bowels?" Customer:

Cloud: Does not want to be here. At all. He's awkward, quiet, and avoids eye contact with customers like his life depends on it. He spends most of his shift trying to stay out of sight, reorganizing shelves in the most remote corners of the store. He clocks out exactly on time because he refuses to give anyone a second more of his life. When he does interact with customers, it's something like:

Customer, pointing at the register: "Are you open?" Cloud: "No, I just stand here for the ambiance." Customer: "You just lost a customer!" Cloud: "You just gained some free time to reflect on your life choices."

[avmisworld]

BTS when you're lonely:

Kim Seokjin:

It didn't take long for your boyfriend to notice that you missed home more than usual. It made sense, considering it's been more than a year since you've last seen your parents, due to Covid.

Of course, living with your boyfriend in Seoul was a dream, especially since the past year he's actually been at home and not touring around the world. But it still hurt when someone like you, who is so emotionally attached to your family, couldn't see them for so long.

You suppose it was only a matter of time before Seokjin would notice you coming out of the bathroom with puffy, red eyes after a talk with your mom, or staring at family pictures with a trembling bottom lip, your knuckles turning white from the harsh grip on the paper.

But you were trying so hard to hide you anxiety, the worry-filled thoughts and nightmare-filled nights about how your family is doing at the other side of the world, because the last thing you wanted was to add to your boyfriend's list of problems his whiny girlfriend.

"I have a surprise for you.", Jin says out of nowhere, just as you finish dinner, wiping his mouth with a clean, white napkin before setting it down on the table, raising his eyes up to meet your confused ones, the brown orbs glinting with mischief.

It wasn't so weird for Seokjin to surprise you with various presents, whether it was some shoes he saw you searching for on your laptop, a piece of jewelry that he thought would look good on you, or anything else that reminded him of you and he just 'had to buy'.

Before you can even question your lover, Jin is quick to throw an envelope on the table in front of you, simply raising his eyebrows and gesturing for you to open the suspicious-looking object when you send him an incredulous look, not expecting your surprise to come in shape of an envelope.

You don't hesitate too much despite your initial reaction, knowing that whatever is inside the paper cover is guaranteed to make you happy, and open the envelope with careful fingers, taking out the folded, official-looking paper before unfolding it slowly with shaky hands.

"Are you serious?", you deadpan after a few seconds of confused silence, raising your head from the scribbled words written in yellow highlight saying 'i love myself:)' to your laughing boyfriend, his brown eyes crinkled as he slaps the kitchen table with every high-pitched giggle he lets out.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist", Seokjin breaths out when he finally calms down, wiping imaginary tears from the corner of his eyes, before taking another folded paper out of the pocket of his blue pyjama top, handing you the white material.

"Go on, open it", your grinning lover encourages you when you stare at him accusingly, not knowing if it'll be another one of his silly antics, and you sigh, reaching out to unfold the paper, before you freeze, not believing the words written before your eyes.

"Oh my god", you whisper, your heartbeat rising and eyes filling with tears as you keep looking at the words written on the magical piece of paper: 'Premission to fly to...", unable to move your gaze away for a few seconds before looking up at Jin's, who's smile turned soft and fond, love filling his dark orbs.

"Is this real?", you utter out, probably sound a little bit crazy as you look at your boyfriend with wide, desperate eyes, your hands clutching the paper as if it's your last bit of sanity. "Am I really going to see them?"

"Yes, princess. You're going to see your family.", Jin smiles widely, his hands already ready to catch you when you practically fling yourself into his lap, hiding your tears in the crook of his neck as the older man rocks you back in forth, pressing kisses all over your silky, dark hair, his chuckles filling your chest with warmth. And even though you can't talk right now, you know he knows how grateful you are.

Min Yoongi:

Since you had a fight with your best friend two days ago, you were down in the dumps to say at least. Your best friend wasn't only the person you relied on more than anyone else, she was practically the only person in Seoul you actually trusted with your heart, aside from Yoongi and the rest of BTS.

It was a stupid fight, so stupid you actually forgot what you were arguing about to start with, but both of your egos were too big to admit your own faults and move on, so in the mean time you were curled up in your apartment, in the pyjama set you've been wearing for the past two days nonstop, licking ice cream off a huge tablespoon gloomily.

Your boyfriend hadn't said anything about your behaviour for the past two days, letting you deal with your frustration and sadness by watching old romantic movies and eating take-out, but you could tell he was starting to lose his patience, judging by the exasperated sighs leaving his mouth whenever you refused to eat a normal meal, or dragged your sock-clad feet around the house aimlessly.

Honestly, you knew you were acting childishly, but you couldn't help the way your loneliness seemed to consume you, the huge spot in your heart that was filled with your best friend's face now eerily empty.

You turn to look at your boyfriend when he sits on the couch next to you, his hands finding their way immediately around your waist, pulling you so you're leaning against him, head right over his heart.

He's still wearing his clothes from work, simple washed out jeans and a thin white tee, but he still seems out of place in your gloomy, lifeless space, his pale skin shining in the dim light coming from the kitchen.

"I saw Y/B/F/N today", he starts, his voice nonchalant, and you try to hide the way your whole body tenses up at the words, your heart physically aching, but you pretend to be indifferent, shrugging carelessly against Suga's lean form.

"She looks horrible, pretty much like you.", you frown at the words, but don't disagree knowing that your lover is saying the truth. You're not even sure when was the last time you brushed your hair.

"I think you should talk to her. Friendships like yours are too precious to ruin because of something as stupid as an argument. If people would just put their egos down and choose peace and love over war and hate, the world would be a much better place."

Your boyfriend doesn't even give you time to answer, simply mumbling 'I better take a shower' before getting up from the sofa, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead before heading towards the bathroom, your dark eyes following his broad back until he disappears.

You're left alone in your thoughts, and you can't help but sigh, cursing under your breath, before opening up your phone, wincing a bit when you're met with a smiling picture of you and Y/B/F/N, the two of you pressed so close together you could think you're twins.

Hesitating, your finger hovers over the second number in your speed dial after Yoongi, named 'Soultwin', before you press the button, raising the electronic device to your ear with shaky hands, hearing the steading ringing in your ear. "Y/B/F/N?"

Jung Hoseok:

You stare at the bag of dog food sitting on the kitchen island, willing it to move out of your way but also making no attenpt to physically touch the lifeless object in front of you and push it away from your area.

The simple bag brings back too many memories: memories of laughter and excited barks, memories of autumn leaves and summer winds, memories of comforting licks on your face and soft, golden fur against your fingertips.

It's been nearly a month since Honey died, and some people would probably find it pathetic just how affected you are, but you can't help the way hot tears spring to your eyes and a sob bubbles in your throat everytime you think about the loyal pet that grew up with you for the past ten years, watching you go through every possible, awful teenage and adult stage without running away once.

You couldn't quite get yourself to throw away all the Bonzo from your apartment, nor the old, worn out red collar he used to wear, or the soft, beige cushion he used to nap on. You know you're only hurting yourself more, but you can't get yourself to care.

"Oh baby.", you don't even realize you're crying until a warm hand pulls you into an even warmer chest, and you breath shakily, burying your wet face into Hoseok's soft, baby blue wool sweater, the material brushing against your skin like a comforting breeze.

Your boyfriend has been nothing less than absolutely angelic since Honey passed away, hugging your crying form at nights when it got exceptionally bad, cleaning the house when you couldn't be bothered to do it yourself, doing everything to make you crack a smile, no matter how ridiculous it is.

It helped fill up the pit of loneliness in your heart a little bit, even if the space there was still painfully obvious, like a piece of duck-tape holding together broken shards of glass that used to be a sculpture.

"I just miss him so much", you whimper into J-hope's neck with a hoarse voice, the fragrant of his cologne, something utterly flowery and sweet like him, calming your nerves slowly until your grip on his sleeves loosens, your lean form slumping against his broad body tiredly.

"I know, sweetie. But you have to stay strong for me, okay? I'll take away all the loneliness, I promise.", your boyfriend's voice is sad, so terribly sad, but no less determined, and when you raise your red-rimmed orbs to stare into his face, watching the dark, serious, love-filled eyes staring down at you, you believe him.

Kim Namjoon:

It's been a few days since quarantine started and you were starting to get bored and exhausted from watching the same old rom-coms on TV and eating the same bowl of healthy cereal every day.

The hardest part was being away from Namjoon. Because BTS were out of the country when Covid started, your boyfriend had to be quarantined with the rest of the band, to ensure your safety and the rest of the South-Korean citizens'.

But even though you knew it was the most logical thing to do, you couldn't help but sulk over the fact that Namjoon could have been right here with you, enjoying some quality couple time that you never really experienced, without work or studies, just cuddling and kissing and sleeping and then all over again.

You couldn't even see him, except for the daily telephone calls and face-timing you were so consistent about, but it was nothing like actually seeing those deep, adorable dimples face-to-face, or the beautiful, brown dragon-eyes, or the tall, broad form of his body.

The shrill sound of the doorbell makes you sit up straight in your bed, eyes wide as you stare at the exit of your room that leads to the hallway perplexed. Who the hell is visiting you at a time like this?

You get up from bed, pushing away the covers that were cacooning your small form as fast as possible before sprinting down the hallway, your fuzzy socks skidding against the shiny, parquet floor, your messy ponytail flying behind you.

You practically body-slam into the door, opening it widely only to furrow your eyebrows when you're met with nothing at all, the hallway completely empty, not even the sound of footsteps being heard.

'I've really gone crazy, haven't I?', you think, shaking your head at your own imagination before starting to turn around, only to stop abruptly when your eyes catch the sight of something unusual on your cream-colored doormat.

It's a small, heavily wrapped carton box, and scribbled on top of it are the words 'For Miss Y/N' in messy, thick black letters, the handwriting unfamiliar to you.

Looking at the box wearily, you think how stupid what you're doing is, before leaning down to pick it up. In your defence, you were desperately looking for anything interesting right now, despite usually being a very responsible woman.

Running back into the apartment, you lock your door once again before dropping on the ground, not even bothering to go sit in the living room, and immediately starting to tear off the duct-tape keeping the brown carton stubbornly closed.

It's a rather funny situation, with you fighting two long pieces of glue, too impatient to go to the kitchen and take scissors or a knife, but you manage to do it in the end, taking out the object inside before gasping, your eyes filling with tears.

It's one of your boyfriend's most adored stuffed animals, a small Ryan plushie, big enough to fit in your hands, the perfect size to use as a small pillow or as a cuddling partner. You've seen it countless of times in RM's studio, perched on the computer table.

Wiping away the salty tears streaming down your face, you grab the small, white note tucked in the character's small, chubby arms with shaky hands, before unfolding it slowly, overwhelmed by the idea that your lover touched the same paper you're holding right now.

And there, in his simple, neat handwriting are the three words that fill your heart to the brim with something you didn't even know you were missing, causing you to let out a wet chuckle of happiness. 'You're never alone.'

Park Jimin:

Since Jimin left for tour, it became much harder to talk, with your boyfriend changing time-zones every few days and your own busy life as a university student, yet the two of you made sure to stay in contact, talking on the phone and facetiming as much as you can.

Your boyfriend was currently in Brazil, getting ready for his concert in five days, and you were positive he was working hard as always to ensure the fans have the best possible performance, yet he still promised to call you when he wakes up, so here you were, sitting on the edge of your bed, already dressed in your Chimmy pyjamas.

It's somewhat nerve-wracking, waiting like this, and you can't help but let out a shaky breath, tightening your dark ponytail like you always do when you're nervous, before swiping to the Facetime app on your phone, burning holes into the screen of your phone as you wait for an incoming call.

When it does happen though, it manages to surprise you, and your phone falls from your hands to the rug-covered floor of your room, and you curse under your breath as you lean down to pick the small device, almost rolling off the bed but too afraid Jimin will hang up to care.

Pressing the answer button quickly, you sigh with relief when a slightly blurry photo of Jimin appears on screen, your boyfriend's tired face stretching into a wide smile when he sees you.

He looks exhausted, his chocolate brown eyes red-rimmed, dark bags framing them, and his hair is still messy from sleep, grey strands sticking out in odd directions, his cute, chubby cheeks even puffier than usual.

"Jiminie~", you cry out happily, scooching even closer to the screen as if that could close the thousands of miles separating you from the love of your life.

Your boyfriend's eyes seem to brighten up slightly at the sound of your voice, and he waves at you, his small hands covered in sweater paws from the oversized jumper he was wearing. "Hello, beautiful."

The two of you talk for what seems like mere minutes when in reality you spent over three hours on the phone, judging by the darkness emitting from your window and the commotion around Jimin, signaling that the rest of the members had already woken up.

You've moved to a lying position, your lithe body tucked into the thick, wool blanket and your head leaning on your forearm as you listen to Jimin describe the tour and how amazing the fans' reaction are.

"I'm really happy for you, Jiminie, but I can't help but miss you so much", you mumble quietly, your drowsiness causing you to lose your filter, and you immediately regret it when your boyfriend's eyes darken, a sad, fond smile appearing on his plump lips.

"I miss you, too.", he whispers, staring at you for another second, before he adds: "But you know I'm always with you in your heart, right? No matter how far you are."

His words make you smile sleepily, nodding into your pillow before you open your eyes again, your lips pulling into a small pout. "I'm sorry for making it sound like it's your fault. I know that you-"

"There's nothing to be sorry for", your lover cuts you off, and the sincerity in his voice makes warmth fill your heart, grateful for the beautiful human in front of you who never gave up on you, even with all your flaws. "Now go to sleep, I'm right here."

Kim Taehyung:

The best decision you ever made was the day you agreed to move in to your boyfriend's apartment in Seoul, after a year and half of dating, a year and a half of love that fills your soul to the brim.

You and Taehyung had met when you were escorting BTS on their world tour as a stage producer, and to say you fell in love with the guy was a major understatement. After less than two years, you're positive Tae is the person you're going to be with for the rest of your life.

But sometimes, like today, it was still hard to be a foreigner in a country like South Korea, not knowing the culture or the language fluently, not having many friends to share your hardships with. It felt lonely and scary.

You walk through the door of your apartment, taking off your shoes quickly and shrugging off the puffy, white coat from your shoulders, letting it fall down to the floor underneath you carelessly.

You're already anticipating Taehyung to exit your shared bedroom the second he hears the door close, and indeed he appears, a bright smile already on his face even before he properly sees you.

He's wearing a cute, brown pyjama set, making him look even more like a oversized teddy bear than usual, the wool material clinging to his broad shoulders and long legs, and his fluffy, chocolate hair falls over his forehead, framing his twinkling, Bambi eyes.

But the big, delighted grin drops the second he sees your own expression, probably looking defeated, like you felt. His thick eyebrows furrow in confusion, pink lips pulling into a frown that you hated being the reason for.

"Hey, what's wrong?", your boyfriend is by your side in a second, his large hands cupping your face tenderly, eyes wide and soft as he inspects you, looking for the reason for your sadness.

"Do you think I fit here?", you blurt out, unable to stops the words from slipping out in front of Taehyung's concern and attentiveness, but regretting them immediately when said man's mouth drops, his expression filled with confusion.

"What do you mean 'here'?", Taehyung questions gently, probably noticing how your cheeks are red with embarrassment, and he moves to brush a lock of dark hair from your eyes before lifting your chin up carefully to look at him.

"I mean here. In South Korea, in your apartment, in your life. I'm so far away from home, from my country, from my people- and I just- I don't know.", your words end in a hushed whisper, feeling the way Taehyung tenses in front of you, the hands on your warm cheeks freezing.

There's a second of silence, and then you're being pulled into a familiar, comforting embrace, Taehyung's strong arms wrapping around your waist, one of his hands holding the back of your head lovingly as he rocks the two of you back and forth.

You inhale shakily, feeling your limbs relaxing in Taehyung's hold, and bury your nose in the older man's neck, breathing in the natural, woody smell of him and letting his hug wash your fears away the way words never could.

"You'll always belong. You'll always belong in my arms, just like I belong in yours. No matter where you are.", Taehyung says after a while, his voice firm and determined as he pulls away to peer down at you, and you can't help but nod, a smile fluttering on your lips as the brown-haired man in front of you smiles back, pulling in for a kiss.

Jeon Jungkook:

Since the day your B/F/N went back home, things have been strange. It's strange to go back home from uni without hugging her goodbye, strange to not meet up at the mall every other day and whine about being too short and not thin enough for Korean clothes.

B/F/N was two years older than you, which meant that she finished her studies at Seoul University before you did. Which meant that she went back home eventually, as reluctant as she was, leaving you alone for the first time.

Well, not really alone. Since you came to Seoul two years ago, you happened to meet the most incredible man on the face of this earth, a man who you can now proudly call your boyfriend and the love of your life. But it was still different without her.

"Hey baby, what's up?", Jungkook's soft voice resonates in your ear, making your lips perk up automatically, pressing the phone in your hand even closer to you, as if it could close the distance between you.

"Jungkookie~ When are you coming back home?", you can't help the way your voice turns high, almost whiny, and you turn bright red, hoping Jungkook didn't notice how desperate and lonely you sound.

It's silent for a minute, the only sound being your heel tapping against the parquet floor of your apartment steadily and the soft breathing from the other side. "Is everything okay, sweetheart?"

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. The last thing you wanted was for Jungkook to go crazy worrying about you, especially before BTS' comeback, when all his attention had to be on the preparations.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just missing B/F/N is all.", you try to force your voice to sound happy and light, but you know Jungkook can easily read you like an open book, can sense the slight tinge of sadness in each word.

"Well, I have practice till late at night today, beautiful.", you deflate slightly at the words, before getting ready to pretend that everything is fine, before Jungkook cuts you off. "But you can come over if you want? I mean it's probably a bit bori-"

"I'll be there.", you cut him off, the wide smile on your face threatening to rip your face apart, but you just love this man so much, the man who doesn't really know how to use his words, but it doesn't matter when he can use his touch and actions to express just how much he cares for you. How much he loves you. "Thank you, Gukkie."

[risky-riki]

7/2/2019...

Welp, it's that time again, another night to just type what I feel, I didn't think of it much but now I'm being eaten by my own self again, overthinking on how akward I really am, man, I don't see myself fitting in right with anything, but I wouldn't disagree on fitting right in with a straight jacket...

What I'm trying to say is as time rolls by, I noticed I'm becoming more and more out of it to the point where I just can't seem to keep myself stable, and then I just lay there, thinking, and thinking, but of what is the question, one minute, I have a thought, the next minute it's jumbled and corrupt, filled with flaws I can't fix, sometimes I still wonder what would have happened if I disclosed that note I wrote on my previous device on here, haha... All the entries I had are gone... Technology is amazing, but spend a decade and a half into it and you will just regress in some aspects, but you will also grow in some aspects... Idk, I take a deep breath, and it's all the same, all I'm getting is more air, but not enough sanity I guess, idk, it's all mumbo jumbo at this point... Probably not well mentally either...

Would that explain the awkwardness in some aspects? Maybe I should get evaluated, but then again I have no idea where to go to, or how to even keep talking for more then 5 minutes.... I get approached, someone wants to talk for a bit, and what can I offer, but my silence as I struggle to actually say anything...

In a year, if I were to take the words I speak, and string them to see exactly how much I spend talking, I estimate only about 2 1/2 weeks or less talking, and that's not very much talking...

I can't seem to tell either, but my voice gets so low most of the time, I just fade out, maybe I should have faded out long ago... I crossed through it back and forth, and yet I'm still alive...

Yep, yep, yep, yep, yep ,yep yep, haha, I'm a fool....

I can't stay with someone for long, too oblivious, or just get cheated on, I'm kinda envious, but I try to fight it off, but envy is too much, and it lingers in the back of my mind...

I Seem to try to move on, but it's there, it will never leave, it is etched...

Why am I depriving myself of sleep, idk, I'm tired, and i can't fall asleep, my face feels wierd ... My heart irregularities seem to be going up a bit, I also feel light headed, maybe I should just close my eyes and see where that takes me, will I wake to see another day?

I honestly accepted that I don't live to see another day... I've been stuck in the same place for a while, apart from just fighting myself, I get bored easily, and just have a lack of motivation, I wonder where the flare, the motivation I had went...

Oh, that's right, some of the people I looked up to have their way of tearing me up, I'm so confused, how did I get here, I started on akwardness, and now I'm just here thinking on the two people who made an impact on me and just dropped me to the ground... Every person should have someone to look up too, I once desired to look up to someone, but now I don't, I also hope no one looks up to me at all either...

Maybe I should post this, maybe I shouldn't, it wouldn't change what I am, people can see, but can they change? Some, yes, others not so much, I, I'm unsure at this point, I just make blind moves, where am I going, where have I been, I don't know, maybe that's why I make all these alternate identitys... I get tired of making alternate identitys just to keep myself from losing it completely, but it's failing, traces of how I am begin to show in those identitys.... Turns, twists the slides of time sink beneath the sands in an oasis that can't be reached, it looks fun.... But it can't be touched, it's there, just like a collectible behind glass.... I'm kinda like that...

I live under a rock, stuck indoors 24/7, only places to go are a pizza joint, reds house, and the store.... I want to go to the beach one day.... I just want to breath without attacking myself, my fingers feel weird, my chest feels constricting... Maybe I should sleep....

Or maybe keep myself up longer and see where this goes, it's really unhealthy, but should do this more often, better then just suddenly saying something... To myself.