#all three of them come from isolated beginnings i realize

[soothedcerberus]

Erik!! I keep seeing your adorable centaur OCs and I always wanted to ask what's the story behind them??

Plushi!! Sorry for the mega-late reply… 🥺I was so happy to get this ask but I didn't know how to explain my silly ocs…I will try now-more under the cut.

Dael Braam (dwarf) is a cooped up farmhand looking to see the world, but being immune-compromised from birth it took a lot of persuasion to convince her parents to let them go. They relent under the condition that she finds a capable and strong person to travel with to keep her safe… Just so happens that a strong and capable centaur knight is visiting in town…

Rembrandt (horsey) was created from a dark fusion spell by an amateur mage, who had intentions to construct a powerful warrior to do his bidding.

However, the spell cast did not result in a powerful and fully-armored warrior…. but instead a frail baby knight centaur, with only its top half made of living armor. The mage, not wanting to raise any kind of child, promptly abandons his creation. He can always try to make another one after all.

Into adulthood, Rembrandt still carries a lot of pent-up abandonment and self-esteem issues. You wouldn't know that from the proud facade he puts on though, lying about being a royal knight yet helping all those he comes across with a smile, but never staying long. When the opportunity of having a long-term travel companion (and perhaps a friend…?) arises from Dael requiring a bodyguard, his craving for companionship and affirmation outweighs his worries about her seeing eldritch elements of himself.

Dirk (beefy dragon thing) is the second (and more "successful") attempt from the same mage to create a powerful monster. Think Rembrandt's "big evil" brother. Except he's quite a bit younger. Dirk emerged fully-developed except for his wings-which remain as little nubs. Despite his brawn and warrior-appearance, Dirk was mostly a glorified errand boy, using his impressive strength to terrorize the nearby towns and their land-collecting resources for the mage.

Dael and Rembrandt meet Dirk after hearing word of a giant dragon-knight ravaging villages (and their livestock yum yum).

(I also like the idea of the mage sending Dirk to capture Rembrandt + Dael when he recognizes is his first attempt is not only alive and strong, but also quite proficient in battle.)

One way or another Dirk ends up roaming with the two. At first, Dirk is over-confident, rude, and stubborn... Overall a huge pain for them to travel with. After being shown kindness for the first time and being subject to more than a few humbling situations, Dirk allows a protective, loyal and softer side of him to emerge.

Lots of found family shenanigans and adventures occur-and yeah! This was rambly but thank you for reading about my guys! 💖

[kithtaehyung]

yoongi's interlude: fugue pt. ii (3tan) (m) | myg

title: yoongi’s interlude: fugue pt. ii (m) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)  series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball |  stay |  sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken pt. 1 | broken pt. 2 | fugue pt. i rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ;  brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: he would do anything for you, even if that means leaving your light... to venture into his dark. note: fugue—in music, a compositional procedure characterized by the systematic imitation of a principal theme in simultaneously sounding melodic lines ; a state or period of loss of awareness of one's identity, often coupled with flight from one's usual environment. note 2: if you haven’t read them or haven’t read them in awhile, i highly recommend rereading busted, broken pt 1, and broken pt 2 before diving into this one. note 3: yes. this is where i will hold hands. warnings: language, flashbacks, time skips, angst, heavy isolation, brain fog, fugue state experiences, ruined instrument, depression allusions, alcohol mentions and consumption, fight scenes, spice from yoongi’s pov????, trauma, bro is a real one, drugs mention/use, the demons are being fought y’all, among other things😔, blood, yoongi please get up😭😭, darkness, jimin being his ride or die self, surprise reader cameo?, anxiety, ptsd reflexes, the ex is getting screen time🚶‍♀️‍➡️, friendship is truly power, yoongi just needs a gd hug😭, dark thoughts, tension, the ending.. oh god the ending<33 ; nsfw warnings: under the cut! drop date: july 1st, 2025, 9:57pm est word count: 21.1k wtfffff

smut warnings: YOONGI SMUT POV!!!, ch*king, head/hair tugging, reader has a pain kink and yoongi knows it, penetr*tive s*x, chains but come on now, protective s*x, cowgirl, or*l (m/f rec), edg*ng a ha ha, thro*tf*cking, kissing :’))), kissing D:, hitting from the b b back, yoongi king of consent sheesh, multiple org*sms, spitting lmfao, sl*t/wh*re mentions, yoongi jfc lol, the aftercare y’all already know!!

“How do you even call this work? You don’t do shit!”

—

—

When you’re in the eye of a tempest, you don’t see the danger surrounding all sides. You feel the calm. The temporary peace—when really your mind is constantly on the run. 

But from the outside looking in, no one can reach you through the darkness. If they get too close, they risk getting hurt. Swept in the chaos and shut out from where you stand in false hope. 

They’ll scream for you to leave. Beg for you to run. But only you can make that choice once you have the chance to hear them. And why would you? If you don’t see any issue with what’s in front of your eyes? 

They will try, and try, and try. Their voices will run repetitive until distant. Pleas will fall on deafer and deafer ears. Try as they might to step into the rush of fury, they’ll only get pushed away because you can’t deal with the cacophony of disappointment. 

Pretty soon, nobody wants to brave that cyclone. Nobody will come save you from the wrath because all it does is make them burn. 

You’re happy, right? Why can’t they be happy you’re happy where you are? Safe. Comfortable, like you’ve never been before? They don’t see it like you do. They don’t understand what you have. 

Slowly but surely. One by one—even the best one. No one except your storm will be there beside you.

And when it abandons you to drown in the ocean it created?

Only then will you realize all your lifelines are long, long gone.

—

—

The sky is dark again.

From the dips of his sofa, Yoongi awakes to pitch black, watching the ceiling flash sinister grins with lightning white teeth.

Ah. Back to the beginning. 

Not that he’s surprised, of course. Everything always goes back to the way it was. Back to the way it’s supposed to be. Because it’s all he deserves. 

Right? 

When thunder crashes into the night, Yoongi flinches in knots, memories jagged at the edges piercing his head violent. 

You know not to—

—shitty day to—

Seriously?

—knew this would—

Prove it.

—only gonna end up alone. 

—

—

Thunder booms once more.

But Yoongi wakes in a memory.

“Why don’t you just stay?”

He looks to his side, seeing a face that has been with him for more days than anyone else’s lately. 

No one has ever asked him to stay. At least, not during the morning after when there’s not much left to talk about. With everyone else, it’s been a quick one in the nearest bathroom or him bouncing before the sun comes up. 

It’s his fault for sleeping this long. He should’ve at least gotten woken up by—

Thunder cracks outside, catching Yoongi’s attention before he finds himself still hesitating. “You sure?” 

“At least until the storm stops. Then you have to go.” 

A bit of morning attitude does feel nice. And at least he remembers her name. He should, though, since this is the fourth time he’s been over. 

“Uhm.” The only complication is that… Yoongi has a thing. A pretty important thing, since his friends are finally all in town again and planned to spend the day together. He’s surprised his phone isn’t blowing up right now, which is what he expected to be woken up by.

He shifts. Oh. It’s dead. 

Yoongi hears a snort behind him before an arm snakes around his bare torso. “It died a long time ago, you know.”

Interesting. “You didn’t charge it for me?”

Another smug laugh crawls along his spine. “I could’ve.” When the hand on his stomach slithers lower, Yoongi’s body responds on instinct, his eyes closing and his heart bumping just a bit louder. 

And he doesn’t yet know it. 

“But I wanted you all to myself.”

Yoongi turns. “Is that so?”

But this stormy day from years past is significant. 

Lashes bat at him with shimmering lust as he’s lured away from his still-uncharged phone. Away from his plans. Away from his awaiting, concerned as hell friends. “Find out for yourself.”

And Yoongi’s gone before the next groan of thunder ends its roar. “Fuckin’ plan on it.”

It’s not a cleanse. Not a relief.

But an omen. 

—

—

Time passes as he’s thrown back to the present.

But Yoongi doesn’t know how long it’s been. Hours? Days? …Weeks? 

It’s dark again. 

But his phone is alive. Barely there across the room, a light blue screen is all he can make out. Someone could be texting. Or calling. Or whatever else he’s gonna ignore. 

How did it get all the way over there?

Whatever. Not like he cares. He’s not gonna need it for awhile anyway. 

The last thing Yoongi remembers is clutching your words in his hands, but apparently Namjoon and Hoseok found him eerily sick. Practically kicked him out of the studio to force him to get better, not knowing how painfully ironic that would become.

The endless rot coaxed a slow descent into his warring mind, corroding from the inside. Seeping defeat along his veins. 

Pelts pelts pelts against the windows hit him like punches, weakening his resolve to even stay awake. It’s all too much. His brain is too battered and bruised to fight right now. 

So he plummets from the sofa back into the past. 

—

—

“That one looks like you.”

From a ways behind, Yoongi watches his younger self, seeing vibrant hair shaking in a laugh before sweeping his pensive gaze along the hazy, deep orange skyline. 

He remembers this hilltop, benches and trees overlooking the city life below. How can he forget when he passes it every time he goes to practice with the guys? Well, every time he went. He doesn’t think he’s gone anywhere in a minute. 

At least he’s observing this memory from a distance this time. Yoongi assumes this is his mind’s way of coping. Because reliving the memories from his own point of view was too much to bear. 

The air carried a certain hue of pink that day. And his hands can still recall the stickiness of the popsicle he held as stickier lips get caught in another kiss. 

Right. This is where it happened. Where Yoongi fell in love for the first time. 

At least, that’s what it felt like to him. He felt wanted for more than his body, understood on a level that no one else had before. Be it his yearning for companionship or for simply being needed, Yoongi felt something beat in his chest that day, spurning him to embrace new emotions never before experienced. 

But something feels off as he relives it on the sidelines. She says those words so differently than how he remembered before. 

“I love you.” 

Yoongi turns away before he can watch himself react. Because he doesn’t need to witness the light in those eyes, a light that would soon be squashed and smothered to the point of nothingness. 

Because in the end, it wasn’t love he received. Love doesn’t come with terms and conditions that don’t go both ways. Love doesn’t make someone second guess everything they’ve ever said and done. 

Love doesn’t make someone want to end it all. 

But what did he know back then? All he saw was someone making him feel good. Great, most of the time. What he didn’t think about, though, was why they were on the hilltop in the first place. 

Right now, that Yoongi doesn’t know about this girl skipping out on work to hang out with him. He doesn’t remember shirking responsibilities to meet her in her bed, caught in his feelings enough afterwards to blow his friends off yet again. 

How many times did he do that at this point? Were they already annoyed with him? Or was this when they started asking if they’d even get him back?

Sighing deep, Yoongi stuffs both hands in his hoodie as he watches another kiss unfold, grimacing at the way she tries her best to swallow him whole. Months down the line, she accomplishes that. He’ll feel trapped with no way out in no time. 

He needs to get out of this nightmare. The sunlight is fading and so is his control. 

Then he watches himself get up, begging to not get in that car. To not leave. To just run. 

Fuck, he wants to haul himself away with everything in his bones. The fact that he can’t stop any of this from happening is what hurts the most, feeling like he can save himself yet knowing it’s impossible. All he can do is watch. 

As she yanks on his younger arm to haul him back down to the bench, Yoongi flinches where he stands, triggered by all the times he tried to leave his own fucking place just to be guilt-tripped into staying. Every time. So many times so many times so many fucking times. 

Get out of here. Either version, get the fuck out of this timeline and into any other. He’s damn near ready to beg and sacrifice anything with a squeeze of his eyes. 

And when he opens them, Yoongi meets a different orange hue on his speckled ceiling, blinking before turning his head into a pillowcase that smells like… You. 

Thank fuck. 

Wait, how’d he get here? Wasn’t he just on the couch? Whatever. Doesn’t matter. 

Relieved, he burrows a cheek into your lingering presence, inhaling short to preserve the one thing that makes his apartment feel like a home. It’s such a comfort that he feels remorse in his chest, right before something leaks slow from his eye.

Even in your absence, you save him once again. There’s nothing Yoongi won’t give you when he gathers himself again, because you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to something good. 

Guess going back to sleep is not an option. Maybe he’ll finally try to work on some tracks again. 

—

—

A boom of thunder jolts him conscious, and Yoongi winces at the crick in his shoulder before grabbing it in a rub. What the hell? When did he fall asleep? 

Checking his dimmed screen, he squints when the brightness blooms and curses at the many, many, many errant notes displayed on his workspace. Because of fucking course he fell asleep on his keyboard. 

The instrument track is deleted without another thought. 

But after a brief stare, Yoongi undoes the action and goes to the very beginning of the timeline, just to see if he had an idea to start with before descending into a dreamless symphony. 

Nope. Delete.

Failure wisps down his chest before he rubs both eyes. This has got to be the most disjointed he’s ever felt. Yoongi doesn’t even know when he last ate something, much less spoken to somebody or taken a fucking shower. 

Disgusting. He needs to do that last one. It’s the only productive thing he does before falling face first into his bedsheets, wondering when he last washed them before succumbing to sleep again. 

—

—

“Wow, about time you finally brought her!” 

“Ah, yah, he’s back out from hiding!” 

Yoongi can visibly see his hand squeezed with apprehension, and he remembers nails digging into his skin hard enough to crunch his smile. 

Throughout the house, multiple people greet them both as they pass, and even Yoongi shifts as if he isn’t just a ghost of a bystander. 

This party. This night. This very house witnessed the moment when everything started going to absolute shit. 

For once, she agreed to come with him to a party. It wasn’t at Jimin’s, since she never wanted to be there—red flag stupidly ignored—but at another acquaintance’s across town. 

Yoongi was simply relieved, happy to be able to see everyone he cared about in one place. But it soon became harder and harder to hold conversations without being pulled somewhere else, being told to go elsewhere, feeling bad about not making it a good time for her. 

As his younger self follows her to a room upstairs, Yoongi prods his cheek. Because unlike sneaking around with your shy smile, this was to hash out a petty argument about nothing. Nothing. 

But he cared about her so much that he took the harsh statements behind closed doors. He listened as she expressed that she felt ignored the whole night. He hated himself for making her feel that way because that wasn’t his intent at all. 

Poised against the wall just outside the door, Yoongi hangs his head, hearing the same painful words from the other side and sending his past self all the love he didn’t have before. 

And he watches as the same door bursts open, his ex rushing for the stairs and his bright hair bolting after her.

Soon, he’ll chase her down the stairs, calmly try to reason with her but failing miserably. People will stare. People will talk. 

But they’d already be in a car and silently driving away. 

—

—

Another day. Another thunderstorm.

Somehow, Yoongi always ends up in his living room when this happens. Like his bedroom feels too sinister when it rains—unless you’re in there filling it with your sunshine. 

He hopes you still know how beautiful you are. How wonderful, how mesmerizing he finds you, no matter where in space and time he resides. Are you finding ways to be happy? Are you out there conquering whatever you want simply because you can? 

Can he send himself to your dreams instead? 

No. Even in dreams, he doesn’t deserve to see you right now. 

And there’s his same problem again. The shadow standing over him. Whether this is due to his past mistakes, or the darkness in his mind, Yoongi fully believes he isn’t yet worthy of your light. 

Besides. As he feels the guitar standing in its same place, he hears it speaking. Reminding him of all the things he’s done wrong. 

When lightning strikes, Yoongi counts the seconds. And four counts later, he flinches at the boom before blanking again. 

—

—

“Who’s that?”

“No one.” 

“You know not to tell me that. Who is it?” 

Ah. He knows why this memory is still taking up space in his mind. Yoongi takes a spot along the wall of her living room, remembering how clean it was and knowing that’s one of the reasons he liked her in the first place. 

Settled on the spotless couch, his younger self with undyed hair turns his head. “The studio guy I was talking to before. Wants to bring me in so I can see what’s up.” 

She gets up with a pout, “Awhh, does it have to be today?” 

He remembers being excited as hell for this. But no one would be able to tell based on his response, “Uhh, I think so. Is that okay?”

“Umm.. I mean, I guess.” 

Truthfully, there were many reasons Yoongi liked this girl. But there were also warning signs, and he must have ignored them in favor of bliss and companionship. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Walking up to his knees, she starts to mount his lap. And this is when Yoongi softly thumps his head back on the other side of the room. 

“I just wanted to hang out today.” 

“Well.. I practically live here now.” When he watches his younger hands skirt along her legs, no feeling rushes into his veins. It’s all evaporated. There’s nothing where everything used to be. “We can when I get back?”

“You don’t live here officially,” she tuts, slinging arms around his neck and bringing him into her chest. And again, his current self is repulsed. “Are you sure you need to go? What are you even gonna do?” 

She fucking knows what she’s doing. Red flags are everywhere for eyes unblinded by infatuation. 

“It’s not that I need to, but I really fucking want to. It sounds really sick and I think I can work there with them.”

“With who?” 

“The.. Studio guys?” 

This is more painful on the other side. 

Because that boy doesn’t know what’s coming. He doesn’t know the pain that will splay out from his inability to see what’s happening to him. Those arms will tighten and tighten around his neck in due time, suffocating like mad. 

But for now, she agrees to let him go, dismissive of the main reason and having ulterior motives. “Fine, but you’re bringing me back food.” 

“I got us,” he readily agrees. And Yoongi can just feel the rush in his chest. Incredible, considering he recalled zero emotion from her earlier touch. “Just let me know what you want.” 

This is when it hits again. This feeling in his gut is not because of the food they ate when he returned. But from preparing for what’s coming next. 

And he dreads the next time he can’t stay awake anymore. 

—

—

Yoongi eyes the molded tangerines in his bowl.

And his heart walks away before he does. 

—

—

Hail comes down in sheets as Yoongi watches himself haul ass to the apartment corridor. Right behind him, growls and angry yells erupt, “I told you it would be a shitty day to do this.”

“It’s my only day off,” he reiterates, steadying a box with the door as he jingles in the key. “Been busy as fuck lately.”

“At that studio again?” 

Waiting as they bustled inside an empty unit, Yoongi’s jaw locks right up. Right then and there he should’ve walked away from that dangerous precipice, new place be damned. So slippery with condescension. So littered with malice and passive aggression. 

But they both took that step from beyond the bounds of friends with benefits, and with those benefits also came the ones of his doubt. Because Yoongi dealt with the jabs. He could handle those, though he shuns his own naivety of liking instead of loathing them. How did he ever let himself be subtly shot down so many times?

It continued to happen all throughout the day. Even when they both waited out the hailstorm and came out to their cars dented to hell, all he’d really hear were complaints about his hobby—his hobby?—taking up so much time. 

It’s when they’re almost done that she drops a heavy hit, with Yoongi watching them from the hall. “Just think about it, okay? You’re spending all this time and money on it and aren’t really doing anything.”

Maddeningly, it’s hard to really tell someone a hobby is actually your entire life. Especially when you haven’t got anything to show for it other than a couple self-produced tracks and one producer credit on a local, aspiring singer’s album. Man, that guy was an asshole. He needed to learn how to move sessions along even with artists bickering the whole way or else—

“Are you even listening?”

“Sorry,” Yoongi mumbles, adjusting the moving box in his arms that’s holding a deconstructed bar cart. “Work shit again.”

“Seriously? Can you not for like two seconds? I just wanna get everything done with and shower. I feel gross.”

“You aren’t supposed to shower during a—”

“Don’t care! I do not care. Let lightning strike me the fuck down while I scrub my asshole.”

Yoongi snorts as he struggles to open his door once again, noting in the far, far back of his mind that the person with a free hand could’ve held it open but didn’t. That should’ve told him enough. But of course, he gave her everything, including way too many chances to redeem herself. 

As they stumble inside, Yoongi follows, remembering how, despite moving someone in, he felt so… Alone. 

His music equipment gets shoved over for more desk space; his shoe collection stuffed in cramped spaces to make room for smaller kicks; his kitchen groaning with boxes and bins with no organization that was slowly but painfully driving him up and through the nearest wall.

Watching this dreary day play out from a distance, Yoongi observes his younger self with abject misery, sweeping his gaze across a cluttered living room and noting the obvious slump in his shoulders. Shoulders that bore the weight of his brash decision of a relationship. 

What were his friends doing that day? Were they watching a basketball game together? He remembers it was the end of the season, so a lot of them were gathering for watch parties and cook-outs. Get togethers he had turned down for weeks in order to spend time with her. 

If only he had asked himself one question. One question should’ve been enough to tell him everything he needed to know.

If he ever had the chance to tell his younger self not to get hung up on one mistake in his life, he would pick this one. Because this one fuck-up set him back years, and became the first splotch of grey in his shrinking, shrinking universe. One question he could’ve asked himself. One answer he could’ve gotten to immediately. 

Why didn’t anyone help him move her in.

—

—

There’s nothing in the fridge Yoongi can eat. And there’s a severe lack of food in his pantry, even though he remembers it being stocked but not taking any of it out. So for the first time in awhile, he forces himself to go outside for sustenance. 

Yoongi shuts his door before locking it, also noting that very empty bowls lie next to his shoes. 

“Oh! There you are.” 

Who the fuck? Who’s even out at this hour? Sluggish, Yoongi turns, noticing the elder lady next door watering the plants along her welcome mat. What was her name again? He thinks it starts with a vowel. But when he tries to answer with a hello, his voice cracks and dies on his tongue. 

Holy shit, when’s the last time he’s even spoken? 

“You okay, sugar? I haven’t seen or heard you in a long time.” 

Wait. Even the neighbors are getting nosy now? How long has he been away from the world? Attempting speech again, Yoongi swallows before rasping out, “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Don’t lie to me, boy. Where’s that nice girl that’s been coming over?” 

Oh. He thinks that’s a pulse in his chest before he answers, “At her place.” Where you need to stay. Far, far away from him.

“Oh… Well, I hope she comes back over soon.” She sets her watering pail on the windowsill. “You two have the best time when she’s here. Hah! Those laughs I hear when I don’t have my dramas playing.. You two give an old lady hope.” 

…What? Yoongi can’t even form a coherent thought. 

Did… Did you really make his laughs so hard his walls couldn’t contain them? The concept seems so obvious yet so foreign, because he can’t even recall the last time he used muscles in his face to smile. Let alone expel joy. 

Suddenly, he sees rain on a cloudless night. Where is he? He doesn’t even fucking know anymore. 

“I’ll be waiting,” the lady continues, breaking through his haze again. “You look like you’re about to tell me something. But I know you aren’t done with her yet.” 

Closing his mouth, Yoongi blinks before nodding his tired head. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good! And tell her Miss Dion says hello, okay?” 

Yoongi hasn’t spoken to you in awhile now. But he doesn’t have the heart to tell her that. “Yes, ma’am.” 

—

—

This memory doesn’t reveal much other than onyx static. But it morphs and twists until it sprouts edges, and it sends him into shakes. Fuck. This is the night he always dreads. The night that transcends time, showing itself like a specter no matter the time of day. The night he said those three words that have him fucking tethered to his living room corner. 

The night of his twenty-first. 

It happened all those years ago, with only the two of them because she wanted it to be special and waved off his desire to have his friends there. For a milestone that should have been celebrated with whoever he fucking wanted. 

And he remembers being completely fine with the isolation. Because despite all the studio shade, all the music dismissal… She got him a brand new guitar. A real one. Not just some rented instrument he had to keep returning, but a true, beautiful black guitar. 

She got it for him because music was his hobby. His hobby. 

Not his life, not his dream career. But a hobby. The gift was laced with malicious intent and he didn’t see it until months later. When everything was becoming crystal clear and frightening. 

Yoongi wedges himself in the corner so strongly he can actually feel the scrap of his walls, watching with short breaths as his younger, ignorant self takes it from its case with admiration. Breathe. This isn’t real anymore. Fucking breathe. 

He will always hate this memory. He wants it to burn, to break, to shatter into pieces just so he can’t witness it any longer. But it’s always there. Taunting him when he’s close to healing, whipping around his arms when he’s close to feeling okay again. You’ve done every fucking thing you could, but even you aren’t strong enough to fight this one for him. 

Only he can conquer this. And he’s only succeeding in failing. 

Yoongi’s head drops when he hears himself say those three little words again, eyes pinching tight at the reaction he gets back. 

“You got there,” she says through manufactured tears. “I knew this would do it.” 

Get him the fuck where? Hell? The abyss? In the middle of the fucking ocean? 

Hair slides in front of his eyes as he has to hear her cry again, feeling his heart sag knowing he’s tugging her in for a hug. “And I’m there forever,” he mouths along with his past self. 

Her grin is still piercing. Sharp. Striking. “Forever.” 

Get out. Get out, get out, get out. 

Forcing himself out of the nightmare, Yoongi shoots from his bed, unsurprised his head is pulsing hard. 

Fuck this. He’s got to get out of here. Your house. Your bed. Your arms. God, the yearning for any of those claws at his chest and bangs against his ribcage. But the studio is his safest place that doesn’t have you in it. So he hastily grabs his keys, heading to the door to slip on his shoes. 

Aiming an offensive finger at the guitar in the corner. The same one that will be waiting for him when he returns. 

—

—

“You’re seeing someone else.” 

“What? Why would I be?” 

“You were seeing someone when you saw me.” 

Yoongi’s stomach lurches at this particular memory. Because hearing that accusation from her lips crushed his heart and slid it across their apartment floor. “First of all, that’s not what happened.” 

“Looked exactly like how it happened. And you won’t even admit it.” 

If she was willing to be down with that, then she was no better. But why would she ever put herself in the wrong? Her aversion to ownership was something else. 

Yoongi watches from the kitchen this time as she taps her utensils on the table. At least she’s not digging lines in it this time. His words across the wooden surface sound completely unlike her ire, “I said I wasn’t good for her. And I left before we got serious.” 

“Well why aren’t you serious about us now?” 

That was a goddamn stretch and they both knew it. It took everything to not slam on the gas, crashing into the window next to his shoulder. “What makes you say that?”

“You don’t make time for me anymore.” 

Because no matter how upset he got, Yoongi could never find it in him to shout. That was her thing. He vowed to never make it his. Explaining soft, he moves food around his plate. “It’s the only time that studio space is free. And I picked that place because it’s the closest one, like you asked.” 

“You’re so cheap.” Both versions of himself feel the same deep pang. “But whatever. Why aren’t you answering my calls lately?” 

When he watches himself sigh, Yoongi flexes both hands at his sides. “Phones are out when we’re in there.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“Are you gonna believe anything that I say?” 

“I’ll believe it when you actually make time.” Every memory seems to be harder to watch than the last. 

“Okay,” his younger self relents, knowing this is how all the arguments end. “I’ll try. But I’m making progress so as soon as I’m done with this mix—” 

She laughs while slamming the utensils down, the dining table screaming in pain. “Of course!” 

“Of course what?” 

“Another excuse, Yoongi,” she grits out, leaning back to fold angry arms. “You don’t even bring that guitar with you, either.” 

“Cus it’s staying here.” 

The way she could slip between the monster and the victim makes him squirm. Her eyes grow wide, brows creasing with a practiced pleading that makes him grimace. “Why? You don’t like it?” 

“I don’t wanna break your gift.” 

“Oh.” 

He holds his hand out, and Yoongi slides his jaw knowing what he does here. Taking her by the hands, the younger him offers a moment of peace, “You really think I’m not in this for real?” 

“It’s more like.. I feel like I’m competing with your job and your.. thing. And losing.” 

His thing. Yoongi loves his thing. He is genuinely enjoying creating and analyzing and experiencing music that he can’t wait to go back. It’s all he can think about when he sleeps, when he wakes. But now he feels bad because he may need to do it less to spend time with her. “I’ll prove it.” 

“Prove what?” 

“That you aren’t.” 

“Okay,” she sighs, gripping his hands. “You better.”

Voices that aren’t his or hers leak into his slumber. And the memory starts to fade into dust on his tongue.

“Let him sleep.” 

“He’s gonna wake up as soon as we start anyway.” 

“Why’d he sleep in here and not the back room?” 

Yoongi slowly opens his eyes, blinking away sleep as blurred shapes come into focus. Mm. He made it to the studio. And he’s definitely on the couch, based on the awkward slant of his back. Lolling his head sideways, he watches all three of his coworkers bustle around the console, flipping on different switches and wincing at the loud hum of the CPU. When Hoseok glances back to see his eyes in squints, he tuts to the others, 

“Ah, see? He’s already awake.” 

“Mmph,” Yoongi grunts out as they all turn, struggling to a sitting position and kneading his eyes. “Don’t wait, I’ll get up now.” 

“When’d you get here?” Jungkook suddenly asks, his bright hair flopping as he pulls off his jacket. “You finally feel better?” 

“Awhile ago,” he sleepily responds, a yawn swallowing his last syllable. “And yeah.” Joints popping at his upward rise, he grimaces while Namjoon cuts through the youngest one’s laughs, 

“I dunno about that, old man. Is it like that every morning?” 

Your favorite nickname for him echoes lovingly through his mind. Like a rush of water to soothe the burn of his terrors. “Pretty much.” 

Hobi can’t help but chuckle with a finger point, the company to his misery. “I’m getting like that, too. It’s only a matter of time for you, Joonie.” 

The tallest in the room sighs before everyone locks into work mode, “Looking forward to it.” 

— 

—

Ah. Back here this time? Looks like his younger self needed him to drop into this one, if only to give him support from another celestial plane. 

“How can you call this work? You don’t do shit!” 

“We’re working on a project—”

“We? Are you even on it?” 

The roll of his chair bumps into the bed frame behind him. “I’m… Making some of the decisions, but—”

“So you aren’t even in charge? What are you gonna get for this?” Not a lot. But his silence answers before he can give a true amount. “Exactly. So ridiculous, you need to get a real job that gives you real money to pay for all this shit.” 

Yoongi was doing just fine when it was just him. But taking care of someone that has a bit more refined taste, too? It’s draining him to the point of alarm. “We can cut our spending, too, you know.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“We don’t have to get food all the time. We can just cook here.” 

“But… Ugh, doing all that work just to eat and then clean?” 

Well. Yes. That’s the order of operations. From his leaned position in his bedroom doorway, Yoongi shakes his head. Even cooking was an issue? He did it all the time when he was alone. It’s not hard. What the hell did he get himself into? How did he not see any of this from the jump? 

“My uncle might be hiring. I can ask him to get you an interview or something, but you cannot fuck it up.” 

“Where at?” 

“Does it matter? It’s a job.” She sighs while sliding hair down her shoulder. Oh, how he’s been tricked by that move too many damn times. “It’s downtown.” 

Fuck. That’s way too far from the studio he’s working at. There’s no way he’d be able to work both… And she knows it. Goddamn. “You really want me to quit?” 

She gives him a look, and he can’t tell if she’s stricken or annoyed at the question. “I mean, not… Really. It’s just…” A sigh. “I’d rather you get a real job now and make music when you’re more stable.” 

Even now, Yoongi gets that. But at the same time, nothing else truly called to him. Music is his real job, the very thought of doing anything else makes him anxious. He doesn’t want to commit to anything that he’ll dread going to every fucking day of his life. But if that’s what she wants, he’ll at least try because he cares about her. Enough to lose a part of himself along the way? Guess so. 

Guess so. 

“Yoongi?” 

His head jolts from the memory as he’s positioned in the middle of a studio. The very current studio that’s only a few doors down from the job he ended up getting years ago. Several pairs of eyes are staring as he takes in his surroundings. Shit, when did he wander off? How did that even happen this time? Why is he looking at a very familiar band he’s listened to for years? 

“You okay, man?” One of them asks, a guy with such a relaxed look that just seeing him makes Yoongi’s shoulders loosen. “It’s just us, no need to be scared or anything.” 

“I dunno, Sammy, you look kinda rough around the edges in person.” 

“Do not?” 

Beside him, Hoseok claps Yoongi on the back, his grip both comforting and telling him to get it the fuck together. “He’s fine! We’ve just been busy, and this guy’s been working hard to get everything ready for you guys.” 

“Give him a sec,” Namjoon agrees, shaking all the band’s hands while Yoongi continues to buffer. “But yeah, we’ll give you a quick look inside and see if it works for you?” 

“Works for us,” Sammy agrees with a smile. “Lead the way.” 

All four members walk through the recording room door after Joon, thanking Jungkook for keeping it open before he heads inside, too. Leaving Yoongi with a very concerned Hobi, who turns to him with furrowed brows. “Hey, you good?”

“Yeah,” he finally forces out, throat scratched. Fuck. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

“If something’s up, tell us.” Hoseok watches the silent movements and conversations happening through the studio glass. “Your gut’s the one I trust the most.” 

Oh. Wait. That’s not nearly what Yoongi’s got on his mind. Even though he’s snuffed out flaky musicians and artists before today, that isn’t the current issue. That’s not what’s sticking to his mind like a parasite and feeding him random haunts from his past. “Nah, it’s not that. I’m just shocked they’re here.” 

“Right! When Jungkook said it’d be a surprise, he wasn’t kidding. I might damn near faint.” 

“Don’t do that just yet,” Yoongi warns. “We can’t have two of us out of it.” 

They both puff out laughs at his previous blanking. And they fall silent with folded arms when Woosung—Sammy—picks a guitar off the wall for hopeful inspection, nodding and smiling at a doe-eyed Jungkook. 

The kid knows how to develop connections, that’s for sure. He needs to start doing that, too. 

“But seriously…” Yoongi looks at Hoseok, met with a stare that he only gives when wanting nothing but the truth. “Anything bothering you? You looked… I don’t even know.” 

“I’ll be fine, Hob,” he breathes out in a sigh. “Just got some things on my mind.” 

The look keeps going, and going, and going. But there’s no more scrutiny when Hobi finally turns forward with an unconvincing, “Okay.” 

—

—

Embers crackle while sparks float to a darkened sky. Yoongi can still smell the metal of the train tracks, still feel the dirt under his shoes as he tips a bottle for another sip. 

A bunch of them were gathered that night. And he wasn’t gonna miss this no matter what, already expecting the onslaught of terror waiting and pacing the cage he calls his apartment. 

Since he got that job downtown, he’s been trying his best to do the work and head across town to the studio to finish things there. But that effort wasn’t taken pleasantly. Apparently, she wasn’t asking him to make music a hobby; she was telling him to give it up—for now, of course. Always for now. And he ended up leaving it far, far behind. 

After he gave that up, everything else followed. Every time he made plans to hang out, he got yanked back into the apartment, whether by a desperate arm or a scathing, manipulative scowl. His whole life was being stripped away. Nothing was his anymore. 

But this night? He finally got away. And Yoongi watches as his younger self faces the heavens with a wide smile. 

Your brother’s there, along with some friends he hadn’t seen in ages. Even a younger Jungkook tags along, watching as they push each other in abandoned shopping carts and fling random stones in open spaces. All of them in questionable fits, his hair as vibrant as a polarizing ice cream flavor, everything defines this pocket of time and no other. 

Watching them like this? Yoongi almost buckles from the pang of nostalgia seizing his chest, wrapping its roots around his heart in a bittersweet embrace. It reminds him of a balcony. It reminds him of you. 

This is the night he chose to not go home. Because his home is here with his friends.

Fuck everything. Fuck life. Fuck love. It was all he could say and express as all of them stuck middle fingers to the world, as if doing so would banish all the troubles in their lives. Every single conversation he had that night was cynical in a freeing way. Because nothing mattered. They were all infinite. Infinite and infinite. 

With each bottle chucked into a blazing fire, his eyes droop lower to the ground. Without much effort, his head lolls, mirroring a few others around him until they’re a heap of buzzed freedom and youth. And honestly, he doesn’t remember much beyond this. He doesn’t even remember who drove him back to your place. 

They were infinite—

A vacuum sucks Yoongi out of his dream so fast he flinches, muscles seizing and locking at hard angles. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck is happening? Focus on something, anything. Is this his room? Okay, he’s in his bed. 

Raking sweaty fingers through his hair, Yoongi closes his eyes, centering himself as he slowly raises to a sitting position. His room. His desk. His television. Even his sheets look fine other than his crumpled side of the bed. What the fuck was that. 

He’s never experienced something like that. Sure, he’s been yanked from a dream while in free fall, or when he’s almost slammed into something. But he wasn’t even doing anything that time except lulling to sleep? So what the fuck was that about? 

Shit. The whole fucking point was to get this shit under control. To fight the memories and the dreams and shove them out of his mind to make room for his own. For yours. Yours and his, his and yours. So why hasn’t he even been trying? 

Panic starts to rush up his throat, clogging it and jamming and amalgamating into something so thick he can’t even breathe. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, get the fuck up. 

He hasn’t had to do this in so long he’s almost embarrassed to reach for what he’s beelining for in his kitchen, perched on top of the fridge behind an unopened case of water bottles. Water bottles. Yoongi clings onto a familiar memory with you yet again. You, you, you. 

The bag crinkles as he rips it open, some wrapped pieces pinging onto linoleum. As he hastily opens one of the candies, he pops the sour coated lifeline on his tongue, slowly closing his eyes and sagging against his refrigerator. 

Shaking, shaking, sour apple, stop fucking shaking. Breathe. In out in out in out in out. Eat another one. Breathe. Silence. Clear head. Sour cherry. Nothingness. 

Breathe. 

Sliding down chilled aluminum, Yoongi feels his ass hit the cold ground, his arms immediately coming up to rest on tired knees. After a minute goes by, he lets more pass. Then another. And another. And another. 

It’s not fun knowing the panic’s back. 

As much as Yoongi wants nothing but your concern crossing kitchen tile, he’s thanking the universe that you haven’t ever seen him like this. Your brother has, but you don’t need to. Ever. But if his demons have all the power again, he might be too far gone.  

—

—

He should feed the cat.

Never mind.

The food from two days ago is still there. Which means she left him a long, long time ago.

—

—

What day is it. Is that the sunset or a new day. 

Doesn’t matter, does it? Even music doesn’t call to him now. 

And that single, damning fact slathers his whole brain in shadow. 

—

— 

A knock sounds at the door. Which Yoongi completely ignores until it erupts into straight banging. 

“Fuck, hold on,” he rasps in a cracked whisper, falling off his couch before his arms crumple, every muscle in his body creaking with lack of use. Pain jolts through his limbs as he lies there for a beat, jump-starting his mind into sudden, bleary awareness. 

What day is it? How did all these bottles get on the floor? How fucking long has it been this time?

More knocks break through the fog of Yoongi’s brain before a voice pierces the door, “I swear to god if you don’t let me in—!”

A sigh escapes in the dark. Jimin. 

Shit, Yoongi doesn’t wanna be seen. Not now. Not when he can’t even recall the past however many hours. But knowing this particular guest, the door will be kicked down if he doesn’t answer soon. 

Hissing, he slowly gets up, stumbling to the door a few steps away before resting shaking fingers on the doorknob. Breathe. Just fucking breathe. 

“Alright, you motherfucker, I’m breaking this fucking door—”

Yoongi cracks it open a tad, a sliver of his unkempt hair and stubbled chin the only things he’s willing to show. His eyes squint as bright light spills into his apartment, but all he can see are the telltale shoes of his best friend. 

“...Yoongi?” 

When he finally looks up, his heart clenches and erupts all the way up to his ducts. The first emotion he’s felt in the sludge of time he’s been chained to his dipping, sagging sofa. 

Because Jimin is staring right at his face. Eyes so rubbed they’re rimmed red. “I thought… I didn’t… No one knows where you are,” he starts, shaking the words out of puffed lips. “And when your phone kept going to voicemail, I—I couldn’t think of anything except coming here so when you weren’t answering the door, I thought—” 

As soon as Jimin breaks, Yoongi slowly closes his eyes and rests his forehead on the door’s edge. Nothing can get him like this other than the tears of a select few. If you had been the one crying at his doorstep, he probably would have given everything up.

But his mouth is so dry he can’t form words, arms so numb he can’t move them to swing the door. There’s dust where his tongue sits, shadows at the edges of his fingers. Anything he tries to say is swallowed, adding to the lump in his scratchy throat. Instead of a tempest of rage, this is the other way to lose control. The subtler, scarier, sinister way to let go. 

Yoongi says nothing. Because he can’t think of anything to say at all.

“Are you listening to me?”

Unmoving, Yoongi breathes, long hair falling onto his paling cheek. He doesn’t even know what month it is. And that scares him so bad he doesn’t hear the next sentence. So Jimin says it again,

“Let me in.”

“Gimme a sec,” he croaks. 

“Now.”

A sigh. Yoongi knows he lost the second he heard Jimin’s voice through wood. So he slowly wills his body to move, stepping—swaying—to the side to let his friend into a dark, blacked out space.

“Holy fuck,” Jimin curses, stepping through a sea of glass bottles before wrenching open the curtains. Light bursts around his silhouette and, for a split second, Yoongi thinks he sees an angel in his living room. 

“Yes. Okay.” With hands on stern hips, Jimin nods to himself before inspecting the litter around his feet. “Yeah, I’m staying here now.”

—

—

“You don’t have to do this,” Yoongi drones while his best friend scuttles around his apartment like a roomba. Clinks of trashed bottles and shifts of trash bags rattle next to the front door, and he sighs before looking out the window. “I’m up now.”

“You don’t get a say in it,” Jimin blithely responds, hauling another groaning trash bag from the kitchen. “And stay there, I’m almost done.” 

“Where the fuck would I go.”

“Anywhere but here?”

Yeah. Right. Where else would he even go right now? Your room is the only place he wants to take residence in—the room in which he said goodbye without knowing when the next hello would be. 

When’s the last time he’s even texted you? Shit, he really has left you behind completely and he feels like a fucking idiot. 

Determination thumps to the door, with a little more force than necessary, though understood. Jimin rarely gets this mad, so when he does, molten emotion rolls off of him in reddened waves, “Couldn’t even fucking call? Text? Do you ever think about what that does to all of us?” 

Yoongi buries a hand in his hair. “Listen, I—”

“Shut the hell up. You don’t get to have excuses this time. Last time this happened you scared me to death and I am not letting it happen again.” 

“You see me. I’m alive. So you can go home.”

Jimin whirls at the door before slamming it behind him, eyes wide in shock as he stomps to the kitchen. “If you think you can get me to go home, you’re an idiot. What else hasn’t been cleaned in a week?”

…A week? Fuck. Maybe it is better if Jimin stays. 

His friend wrings his hands in water before drying them, moving to sit in the chair you usually occupy. Used to occupy. Yoongi’s head sags. 

Jaw ticked, Jimin sits and rests elbows on his knees, brows up in a way that leaves no room for arguments, “Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

With a sigh, Yoongi closes his eyes, shifting his own jaw in the hopes he can find enough courage to do this. Because even though Jimin knows most about what happened before, he’s been the one pushing him to move forward, not backward. Which means Yoongi is in for a verbal beatdown. 

But before he can say anything, Jimin urges again, “Start talking.”

Fuck. “Go home.”

“No. Try again.”

It’s back. The anxiety. Making him vacate his seat and slink against his bedroom door. “I’m not doing this right now.”

Jimin rockets out of his chair right after, getting all into his space. “Tough fucking shit. Tell me. Now.”

He can’t. The words won’t come out. “It’s nothing.”

A bubble of caustic laughter flings out of Jimin’s throat before he outright shoves Yoongi against his door. Slight pain erupts from his back, branching out and alerting his body with adrenaline. But he’s so numb he doesn’t even say anything. Nothing. Just… pain. 

“Is that it? Not even gonna say anything?”

Silence. Yoongi can only serve silence. A lighter push at his chest doesn’t do anything either, neither do the grips at his shoulders before he’s shoved against wood. Is this all he has left? Pain? He can’t feel anything else. Why? What’s happening? Why is he so… drained? 

“Yoongi…” The words wobble. So soft now. So pleading. “…What’s wrong?”

Like a burst of shock, that jumpstarts something deep.

A thousand things. Three thousand things. All of them having to do with him and his inability to deem himself worthy of the one thing he wants most. His shameful weight of the past barring him from everything good, and bright, and healing. 

You would ask him the same question. Yoongi knows it in his heart. But here you are, giving him the space he asked for and trusting him with your feelings because that’s just… You. And he has done absolutely nothing to show for it.

A whole week passed and he didn’t know it? He still doesn’t even know what day it is. How long has he kept you in the dark? How long will he keep failing you because this isn’t fair to you at all. You deserve better. 

…Is this when he lets you go?

Dark, painful throbs in his chest let him know he’s barely alive. But if he’s been radio silent with no explanation, who fucking knows what you’re thinking now. About him. About yourself. Fuck, the panic is rushing in again and his breaths are short, short, short—

A hand warms his shoulder, prompting him to look up and notice that blurred, wavering red eyes are staring back at him. 

And the only thing Yoongi feels after that is a hot trail of regret down his cheek. 

“Fucking hell, man—” The pull yanks at Yoongi’s heart as strong arms wrap tight around his shoulders, and he buries searing eyes into his friend’s familiar cologne, drowning it in heaves of sobs that burn his lungs and spread fire into his throat—burning, burning, burning. His heart is on fucking fire. 

But Jimin is there, hugging tight and trying his best to smother the flames, choking on his own sobs and apologizing for anything. Everything. Nonsense, but it’s Jimin all the same. 

“I can’t fucking win,” Yoongi chokes out, finally setting all the fears free. “She’s always here. I can’t… Fuck.”

Jimin grips tighter. “You can,” he says with a rasp. “I promise you can.” 

“How do you know.” He can’t even recognize his own voice. “You don’t know what it was like.” 

Jimin flinches before holding on even tighter. “Because you won’t do it alone this time.”

Yoongi feels a vice clamp his chest.

“I’m… Shit, I’m really sorry for not trying harder before. We all are. We were young, and stupid, and should’ve paid a lot more attention instead of…” His friend sighs to the ground. “Instead of letting her slowly kill you.” 

It’s a gut punch. Reliving all those memories is confirmation enough. 

Jimin chokes out his last vow, and it tugs at Yoongi’s very being. “So. Yeah. I’m not leaving until you know you have someone. Even if it’s just me.” 

Now Yoongi feels like an asshole. All that time, he’s been so lost that he didn’t even think of his friends. The self-deprecation devolved into self-isolation, squeezing him inside a smaller and smaller box until he couldn’t breathe. He owes Jimin more than his life. 

Hands slowly raise, hope and promise lifting them to his friend's shoulders. There’s a million words he can say to this man, but the only thing that comes out is a mere, “Thanks.”

“You’re thanking me now, but. Even if you get annoyed, I’m not leaving.”

A knock comes at the door, and Jimin finally leans away before smiling. “We’re gonna fight this, yeah? You got us. So get used to it.” 

Yoongi nods. But then gives his friend a scowl. “Who the fuck did you invite to my place.”

Is it your brother? Is it you? Fucking hell, Yoongi would give anything for you to be on the other side. 

But Jimin smirks at his reaction. “It’s not her, but I like the look on your face.” 

A glare is shot while his friend walks to open the door. 

While Yoongi’s heart deflates, he still gives a shake of his head when he sees the newcomer. “If you’re both staying, I’m booking a hotel.”

Taehyung stands affronted while Jimin laughs behind his broad shoulders. “Excuse you? I’ve just been sent here to bring food.” 

Are those bags of groceries? Fuck, he already can’t thank them both enough for what they’re doing. His stomach hollows at the thought of food, which is a good sign because that means he’s ready to eat again. 

“Ah ah, tell him what else.” 

Yoongi tilts his head as he goes to help. “What else is there to do here.” 

Jimin already stormed through like an unstoppable force to clean everything and take out the trash. Ironically, the clouds outside seemed to clear when his apartment did. 

Thumps of vegetables and fruit litter his counters before the newest guest smiles soft, “I’m here to update you on what the love of your life has been up to.” 

Yoongi blinks at paper bags before slowly turning to meet his gaze. Long, speechless, and so fucking relieved. 

“But only if you cooperate.”

—

—

You got the job. And he fucking missed the opportunity to congratulate you. 

Neither Jimin nor Tae judge him for needing a moment to himself. 

—

—

This memory is one he hasn’t visited yet. But Yoongi recognizes it immediately, and he steps aside as his younger self bolts from your brother’s room. It was the morning after they all defied the world. And frankly, he doesn’t remember how they got here but knows for a fact he didn’t drive. Following himself into your familiar foyer, he winces at his own freak out, his tousled hair sticking in all directions. 

But both versions of him freeze when he sees you, standing with a spatula in the kitchen he’ll eventually end up kissing you in years later.

This happened right before you left for university, heading to a really good one according to your brother. He didn’t doubt that at all, either. Both of you look so much younger, living completely different lives. 

You barely get out a nervous smile and hello before he quickly comes up to hold your shoulder, noting how softly nice you smell before reassuring, “Hey, he’s fine. But check on him in like an hour.” 

He whizzes away as soon as you ask, “You okay?” 

But he doesn’t have time to explain. You’ll understand. You’re a pretty, smart girl—Wait. Pretty smart girl. Right. 

Yoongi doesn’t know why he looks back, but he remembers seeing you standing in your doorway, watching him open his car door with nothing but concern.

Standing on your porch, his current self remembers that tug in his chest. It was small, but it was there. Regardless, he chalked it up to the anxiety telling him to get home now. So he gives you one more look before shoving into his car and driving off, not knowing he was going backwards that whole time. 

Like a dream, the scene change is abrupt, dumping him in the middle of the fight that happened minutes later. Shards of glass litter the kitchen floor as the bar cart once full of alcohol lies shattered and bleeding potent fumes. 

“You lying mother fucker!” 

“I was helping—” 

“Didn’t even tell me? Didn’t even think to say something?” 

“I was focused on keeping him alive?” Keeping him alive and home safe. Something that your brother had done for him multiple times. He’s with him until the end. End of story. “Are you gonna ask me if I’m okay? Do you even care?” 

Yoongi should’ve recalled that you did. But not right now. He doesn’t think about anything until later. But watching from this side, you were the only one that asked. 

“You’re here, right? That tells me enough.” 

Yoongi stands there. So broken, so distraught. “What if I wasn’t?” 

“Don’t even ask stupid things.” 

“I’m serious. I’d look everywhere for you.” 

She can’t answer. And Yoongi knows exactly why. He loved someone that never loved him back. This is the karma he gets for all the hearts he broke. The people he played with. It’s all rearing its head and kicking him straight in the teeth. 

This was the final straw. He was done feeling like shit in his own home. With one look at the glass pieces at his feet, he loads finality into his tone. “If you can’t answer me, we’re done.” 

“No, babe, please—” 

“Don’t.” 

“…What?” 

“You do this every time.” His younger self’s finally gonna do it. He’s gonna stand up for himself, and Yoongi hates what he’s gonna hear next. “Cut the bullshit.” 

“I’m not, I just—” 

“If you’re gonna answer, answer.” 

“Don’t rush me. You putting this back on me now?” 

“Cool.” He opens the door, signaling for her to leave and never come back. “You’ve already moved or broke a bunch of your shit, so. This should be easy.”  

This is the moment. The singularity that forever sucks him back into the dark.

“Useless piece of shit.” And here it all comes undone. “What a joke. After I bought you all this shit and you don’t even use it.” 

He has. She’s just never paid attention.

“Fucking loser. I gave you the world and you gave nothing. Nothing.”

He gave up everything. 

“It’s sad, really. How you’re only gonna end up alone.” 

That will be true. This is when he decided that, right? To be done with this shit. Done with love. 

“How did I even let you keep me this long?” 

Yoongi stops, his fingers shaking. Him? Keeping her? It’s so twisted that his vision still jangles. He’ll never forget that feeling, being blamed for the exact same thing she had been doing to him the whole time. 

“Forget it. You’re just gonna fuck up until you have no one left. And I can’t wait to see you end up all by yourself.” 

Yoongi doesn’t respond to her wrath, walking to the corner of the room and grabbing the guitar he was gifted. But he’s halted by a pointed finger. 

“Keep that. Cus you’re gonna remember this. You’re gonna realize I’m right and there won’t be a thing you can do to fix it.”

“Are you done actually? Or is this another stunt?” 

“A stunt? The only one that does that is you.”

It’s his turn to unload. And he makes it a point to say everything he needs to. “I don’t do anything. I don’t go anywhere. See anyone. Or whatever the hell you’re accusing me of. I stay here, or go to the studio. That’s it.”

“Some studio you got there. Haven’t even heard one single thing you’ve done this entire time.”

“You’ve never asked.”

“Huh?”

Ah. Yoongi remembers this. Right then, he was finally, finally done. “You never asked about anything I’ve worked on once.”

“Well, you never cared to share.” Acid bubbles from her throat, hair tossed back in an unforgiving laugh. “A fuck-up and now a screw-up? Why did I ever think I deserved you in the first place?” 

Yoongi stares for what seems like the final time. And he couldn’t be happier. “Hope you find someone that you do.” 

And the door shuts right as he’s flung from deep sleep, thrown over any perception of reality and taking in the voice at his face. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay—” 

“Give him space—”

Yoongi shudders, breathing ice cold fire and chilled by the air ghosting over his sweaty back. Front. Legs. Fuck, he’s drenched. 

“Yoongi?”

Gulping air, he flicks his eyes between Jimin holding him steady with shaky hands, and Taehyung on the other side of the bed, watching him with eyes locked and one knee making a hard divot in the comforter. 

Shit. This isn’t like the other night he fell asleep in his kitchen. This is a whole other level of frightening.

“Please say something,” Jimin squeaks out, lightly rubbing him on the shoulder and providing much needed warmth. “Anything. Please.”

“Let him breathe, babe,” Tae softly orders, to which Jimin snaps his head at but calms. 

Tae’s right. Breathe. Breathe deeper. It was just a dream, just a memory, just the past. Fuck. Yoongi thought having people over would help. But that was a terrifying reminder that he was wrong yet again. 

Head dumped in his wet hands, he notices his hair’s new length before raking it back. Looking straight at his desk, he takes it all in, quietly reminding himself that it’s filled with equipment. 

That’s it. Nothing else. Just his equipment, his notepads, his writing utensils. No traces of broken keyboards, cracked monitor screens, snapped wires. Nothing except your light touches which he will take any day over what occupied it before. In his whirlwind of thoughts, he wonders if anything else of yours on that desk would look nice—Ah. He’s truly losing his mind. 

“I’m good,” he croaks, startling everyone in the room including himself. “What the hell happened.”

Taehyung answers first, “We heard a lot of noise, so..”

“We checked in and saw you,” Jimin finishes, his eyes holding back multitudes. 

“Saw me what.” 

“Thrashing.” Taehyung holds his gaze unflinching. Because one of them has to be level headed, and Jimin is clutching Yoongi like he’ll sink into the bed. Maybe he would have. 

“It looked painful,” Jimin rasps out, voice sagging with melancholy. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he looks Yoongi in the eyes before whispering, “Does this happen a lot?”

“Not in a minute.” And for once, he’s honest about this. “It’s only the second time recently.” 

He thanks every star above that you’ve avoided seeing both. This is exactly why he shunned himself, isn’t it? Until this is dealt with, he doesn’t think he can be with you on a clear conscience. 

Taehyung’s fully sitting on the sheets now, hair looking like he was yanked from a deep sleep, too. “Have you told anyone about it?”

“No.” 

“You should.”

“Maybe.”

“Tae’s right,” Jimin whispers, his expression filled with grey. It’s a look Yoongi decides he doesn’t ever wanna see on that face. “I think you need that, too.”

Something very close to discomfort creeps along Yoongi’s bones, making him shift in his seat. His very moist seat. God, if he doesn’t shower now he’s causing a riot. “Lemme wash first,” he offers, barred from swinging out his legs until Jimin gets up. When he gets to his bathroom, he flips on the switch inside before deciding, “Then I will.”

Tae stays still as Jimin walks up to his side of the bed. The closer side to the bathroom. “You sure you’ll tell us?”

“Yeah.” Yoongi looks down before heading in to shower, saying one more thing as he shuts the door, “But you won’t see me the same after I do.” 

—

—

He tells them everything. All the memories plaguing him for years. The things they don’t know and some of the things they do. While they listen, Jimin’s eyes blink the least, not wanting to miss a single second. 

Taehyung’s hands grip the couch cushions harder with each passing moment. But neither of them judge. Neither of them offer pity. If anything, they’re ready to pick up swords they don’t have to attack someone that doesn’t exist to him anymore. 

Lies. If she didn’t exist to him, none of this would be happening. 

So therein lies Yoongi’s problem. He needs to get rid of anything that still ties him to her, the biggest one being the guitar watching all of them right now. 

“Why didn’t you tell us. Tell me,” Jimin asks through fresh tears. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I thought about that for a long time.” Yoongi hangs his head between his knees before lifting. “Turns out, I was just.. Ashamed. I dunno.” 

“Does anyone know all of this?” 

Well. “Just one.” He doesn’t have to elaborate for them to know who it is. 

“I didn’t wanna bother anyone with it,” he finally admits. “Didn’t feel like you guys needed to hear how fucked up I am.” 

“Yoongi.” He raises his gaze to meet Jimin’s. “That’s exactly what we want to hear. Because we’re friends.” 

“You’d say the same to us,” Taehyung adds. “And to her. Who, if I’m being completely honest, would lose her shit if she knew.” 

Yoongi doesn’t doubt that. “I know.” 

“No, you don’t. I’m not saying because of the reasons. I’m saying because she would offer to do exactly what we’re doing now.”

Burns sear around his eyes. Because deep down, he fucking knows that. He does. And yet, he still can’t accept how selfless you are when it comes to him. How good, and reckless, and understanding. And a revelation pierces right through his bruised heart. 

He’s lived in his dark for so long that he’s afraid of your light.

Fuck, his admittance scratches every inch of his mouth on the way out. His heart takes collateral damage, seeping out of his eyes, “I think I have to let her go.” 

In an instant, both pairs of eyes gloss over to match his. 

“I’m doing all this for her,” he rasps out. “Everything, for her. But I can’t fucking do it and she deserves someone that isn’t so fucked—” 

“Yoongi—”

“My ex was right. Back then. Now. She was right.” His voice lulls to a dull thrum. “I’ll just end up alone.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” His head snaps to Jimin’s at the same time as Tae’s. “Are you alone right now? Hmm?” 

No. But he doesn’t say a damn thing. 

“I’ll answer for you since you’re being an idiot. No, you’re not.” That’s not the point, but— “And even if we weren’t here? You’re never alone unless you decide that, not some fucked up ex. And the Yoongi I know? Is too smart to do something so stupid.” 

Ouch. But fair. “That’s not what I mean and you know it—”

“So what? You wanna talk about relationships? Let’s talk about the one you’re in—because yes, you’re in one—and how you’re fucking it up because of some bullshit.” 

“Jimin—”

“No, I’m tired of this shit! Why can’t you see what’s in front of you? Why can’t you see all the good shit you do? Why can’t you just be happy—”

“I’m trying all of that for her—”

“You need to do it for yourself!”  

Jimin stands rigid as his words pulse around the room, eyes swimming and unblinking as Taehyung dons a similar look. 

“This isn’t about her. This isn’t about anyone else.” He shudders out a breath. “Right now? You need to get your shit together to pull yourself out.” 

Shit. 

Yoongi completely lost the point along the way. Didn’t he think like that when all this started? When did it all become so muddled? Did part of him always know this, deeper down? And that’s the part of him that he had left behind first? When he tries to speak, he can’t. No words, no thoughts, no sounds escape the desert of his mouth. 

“And you can do it. I’ve seen you do it before,” Jimin whispers. “But now, you have two people—three people—to fight for this time.” 

Ah. But one of those people still doesn’t know the truth. Doesn’t know why Yoongi’s done this to himself in the first place. A sour laugh leaves his lips before he stares at nothing. “He’s trusted me with everything. And I’ve told him nothing.” Lifting his head, he shudders out, “Say I do all this. Once I tell him the truth… I’m losing him. I know it.” 

“You don’t know that.” Jimin sounds very unconvinced. 

“Hah.. Right.” Yoongi sighs. “We all know he’s gonna kill me.” 

“Well.” Taehyung is the one that finally interjects, and Yoongi shifts his gaze before the man correctly and accurately assumes, “You’d die for her anyway. What’s the difference if he knows.” 

Oh. Well, that’s…

There’s a ping of silence before Jimin blurts a puff of amusement. 

Then Yoongi breaks into a smile as Taehyung’s sudden laugh joins the fray, all of them grinning and laughing because it’s all so fucking simple. Really, really fucking simple. And for the first time in weeks, Yoongi feels like things are gonna be okay. 

Coming down from the broken ice, Jimin reiterates the whole point, “You’re not gonna lose her. But you will if sulking is all you’re gonna do.” 

A nod. “I know.” 

“So what are you gonna do?” 

Yoongi looks at them both, then sweeps his gaze around the living room before landing on his coffee table. Warmth fills the divots in his cheeks as he allows himself to grin, not caring if he gets peculiar looks at his first order of business. His highest priority. 

“Gonna move some books.” 

—

—

The loudest roar of thunder signals the end of a storm. And in following that same pattern, the rest of Yoongi’s week goes by dreamless. Calm. Merciful. 

And he cannot thank Jimin enough. 

He helps him when he cooks, drags him out for walks in the afternoon, and even Taehyung drops by to show him a bunch of movies that he is appalled he’s never seen before. 

Yoongi even goes back to the studio on the regular, earning looks of relief and mild annoyance, which he fully expected. But with minimal questions, he throws himself back into work, urging himself to eventually tell them what happened. 

When Taehyung stays over, too, all three of them simply… Talk. About anything and everything, deeper and deeper conversations the more he gets to know them. Yoongi doesn’t talk as much as they do, but he does divulge a lot more about his past than he ever has. Both of the guys present never judge him for any of it, which makes him feel seen. Feel not so alone. 

Because he’s learning that these experiences are universal. The true danger lies in not knowing how to handle them. How to be accepting of those parts of his life when he’s all he’s got.

Now that he’s got his priority straight, he knows he can get there. He can find that door to himself again, no matter how long it takes. Yes, for you. Yes, for his best friend.

But, first and foremost, for himself. 

—

—

To his complete shock, the cat comes back. And in the quiet, radiant night, Yoongi’s eyes gloss over when his heart tells him her name. 

She’s gonna be yours. For getting the gig. The idea itself breathes life into his soul, and he can’t fucking wait to get everything ready for the day he gets to surprise you.

Finally, Yoongi has something to look forward to. Just wait for him. He hopes you can hold out just a tiny, tiny bit longer. 

Filled with joy and excitement, he sends Tae to the store for some food, supplies, and a new set of bowls, barely noticing Jimin watching his detailed orders with a newfound sense of relief. 

—

—

One day, Jimin comes back from work and asks if Yoongi is ready to see people. When he asks why, he talks about his brilliant idea of bringing the parties to him. When Yoongi continues to ask why yet again, it’s to fill his apartment with even more life. Maybe even a certain person will come, too. 

Nah. You probably won’t. 

But if you do? Yoongi won’t be able to contain himself. And just knowing that he’s okay with feeling that way is a step in the right direction. 

—

— 

Three months.

Based on the date on the studio monitor, it’s been three months since he left. Way too long, and the remorse in his stomach is acidic. 

Three months. How many seconds is that? You would know. You’re brilliant and know everything except the dark secrets he can’t tell you yet. 

And it’s the deepset shame lining his bones that won’t allow him to go see you, as much as he fucking wants to. Letting it all out for his friends did lift an astronomical amount from his shoulders, but now he’s embarrassed as hell for taking this long to do something so simple that he’s still unsure. Unsure of when he can show himself to you again and is terrified at how you’ll perceive him. 

But just because he doesn’t know about seeing you. Doesn’t mean he can’t at least talk to you.

And he’ll make that call last the entire night. Jimin and Tae have given him space for a little while now, both of them back in their respective places, so he has the apartment to himself and your voice. If you give him another chance. 

It’s that one solid loophole that has him rushing out of the studio and eager to finally ring you up. The uneasiness is getting beaten out by excitement, pouring over from the news they all received about the album release party. 

Things are finally, finally, finally looking up. He’s feeling better. Not enough to face you, but enough to not feel worse than complete shit. But all of that freshly blossomed energy sweeps into a torrent of worry as soon as he’s greeted with silence on the line. 

“Hello?” 

He can’t blame you for hesitating. Fuck, you’re probably over him and are just answering out of pity. You aren’t saying anything. Shit, he fucked all the way up. 

But your silence isn’t because of anger. Or annoyance. Because you make the smallest, most desperate noise he’s ever heard in his life. 

And the intention to burn the rest of the world shatters every shackle he’s placed on himself, fierce sparks igniting his body to go wherever the fuck you are and deal with anything awaiting his wrath, “Where are you.” 

He’s coming to you no matter what. 

—

—

Is that you? Are all those bags chips? 

Holy fuck, that’s the funniest shit he’s seen in months. 

He’s so fucking in love. 

—

—

He wants this drive to last for hours, if only to maintain this expansion in his chest that lets his lungs breathe. 

Being in the car with you? Your pretty voice singing along to all his favorite songs? This will always be one of his favorite things, long after he’s too old to operate even the slowest vehicle in existence. 

Remembering the mountain of bags in the backseat, he selfishly tuts, “You still have to gimme chips.” And he also selfishly glances over your chest when you reach behind to get a random flavor. Goddamn. You’re still perfect. 

“You really made me get these just for you, huh? Are you eating?”

“Yes, my love. And I never said that.”

…Did he just say what he thinks he said? Well. No taking it back now. Especially when it felt like the most natural thing to call you. An oath. A reminder. To himself, more than anyone else. 

It takes you awhile to respond as you open the bag. And Yoongi assumes your comment is to brush off the same sudden shock he still feels, “Such a smartass.”

“You’re the smartass.”

“Don’t act like you aren’t smart, too,” you laugh before pulling down your dress. Wait, are you cold? “I know you are.” 

He doesn’t know how to take that compliment, reaching into the bag and watching you shiver, wondering why you’re just dealing with the chill. “Why?” 

Yoongi is so thrown off by your reason that he laughs after you say it, “I just… You read.” 

His cheeks strain as he lowers the fans, the music now commanding most of the air space. The way you’re turned away is so cute, and you immediately stop fidgeting with your tiny dress. “I’m smart cus I read? How do you even know?”

“You have books under your coffee table. And you don’t have decor just to have it, so…”

Did he ever tell you that? He doesn’t remember saying it, so did you just accurately read him again? Who’s the avid reader now? But speaking of those books… You don’t know what he did with them, or why, and that curves his mouth up a tad. “I moved those, by the way.”

“Em”—you cough—“Embarrassed?”

“Proactive.”

“Huh? For what?”

Perfect. You lead him right where he wanted you to. Proudly telling you why, he says it all through a smirk, “The next time you decide to fuck up my place.” 

“Oh, bullshit!”

You’re tickling him while he’s driving? That’s unfair as fuck! “You soaked—aish—my whole apartment!”

“That was you!”

“No?”

“Yes? I was nice and only got your head wet!”

Mm. That sounds like a damn good idea. The visual in his mind is nowhere close to appropriate, and Yoongi’s enjoying your squirm in his passenger seat. Elated you’re back in it in the first place. But you’re almost out of reach again. And he’s dreading the next rolling stop. 

At least he gets to hear your huffs again. Those are his absolute favorites. “Ugh. Whatever… I’m right.” 

You haven’t changed a bit. Still the same person he left behind, and his heart pangs from the need to do it once again. 

But your quick resistance halts his brain. Screeches it to a stop. Fuck, you’re begging him not to do it and he doesn’t want to do it but it’s the right thing. He’s trying to do the right thing but god, does he want to just veer off the goddamn street. He can’t. He can’t he can’t you can’t— “Babe… We can’t.” 

“I don’t care.”

“I was only gonna bring you back.”

“Baby, please.”

“He’s home—”

“Do you still miss me?” 

…What? Yoongi stills, mind resetting and going blank. 

Still miss you? He’s never fucking stopped. 

Suddenly, Yoongi abandons any sense of restraint. All control he previously held onto falls away and crumbles to dust. You have his full attention. And you rip his soul to shreds with every word you say,

“Because I get it if you don’t. I do. But I really… I really fucking miss you. And not just because of, whatever. But I consider you a friend and fun as hell to be around, and I haven’t…” The shake of your exhale rattles his eyes. “I haven’t been this happy in weeks. And we aren’t even doing anything.” 

God, he feels the same. You could both sit in silence and he’d be filled with joy just looking at you. 

“I know you said I wouldn’t see you. But after getting to know you? The real you? …That sucks.” 

Shit. 

“I’m not gonna make you change anything, just. Telling you what’s on my mind. Like you said. I’m gonna do that a lot more now.”

Yoongi doesn’t say a word as a tear cuts one of your cheeks, and you’re brave enough to look his way again. “But it’s been three months, Yoongi,” you whisper. “Is that still not enough for you?”

Every brick. Every wall. Every fortress he’s built around his mind crumbles into stardust, shards pinging around his ribs and cutting into his beating, beating, beating heart. 

A day was enough for him to miss you. And these three months have felt like three years. 

There’s no denying it. He fucking needs you. 

Of course. That’s the only reason he sped down here to pick you up and pinned you against his car as if you’d flee. You’re his oxygen, his inhale, his breath of life and hope for new beginnings and goddamn if he lets you go now you’ll never know it—

“Stop.” 

Just tonight. He’ll allow himself one night. Does he deserve it? Probably not, but you sure as fuck do for laying your dying heart in his withered hands. 

And Yoongi decides with a lock of his jaw. Following where his own broken heart points and peeling out into the street.

—

—

Once he gets his hands on you, Yoongi can’t fucking stop. From the car to the walls of his apartment, his fingers can’t decide where to stay, raking down your sides and tugging you close before finally shoving you against his bedroom door. 

God, your touch. Your lips. Your little sounds of pleasure. Why the fuck did he deprive himself of the one person that makes him whole? Yoongi’s so lost in you that he barely remembers his pain, and he loves the way you laugh in the face of it. So fucking hot. 

Closer. He needs to be closer and it’s driving him mad how he’s limited to pressing against your front. Hitching your leg up, he shoves himself forward, the rush of blood tightening his groin and emptying reason from his head. 

This is already too much. You’ve already taken things too far. But goddamn, he’s not stopping even if the entire complex broke down his door. “Shouldn’t be fucking doing this—” 

You moan and he’s a goner again, the next twitch in his pants straining against your soft pelvis. When a plea leaves that pretty mouth, Yoongi’s ready to give you the world. All you have to do is say it and it’s yours and yours alone. “Please what.” 

The tug of his hair makes him groan, but it’s your words that drag his soul across coals, “Choke me. Use me. I don’t care, do it all.”

“Huh?”

What did you fucking say? 

Nah. Yoongi needs to hear that again because he cannot forgive himself if he’s hallucinating all of this, too. Yanking you forward, he strains his ears just to be bombarded by your demands, 

“Don’t be nice. Spit in my mouth. Make me beg like a fucking slut, I need it.”

You’re gonna be the fucking death of him. “The fuck.”

Any hesitance Yoongi had before flings out the door. The whole time he’s trying to do the right thing, here you are spewing everything good and wrong and he’s enraptured. You’re clearly not holding back, so why wouldn’t he match that chaos like his life depended on mania? You give and give and give, and Yoongi makes it his mission to reciprocate. 

Soon, he’s everywhere, swallowing you devouring you inhaling you like his last meal of his last life. Busting into his bedroom, the hot rush of adrenaline magnifies his darkest thoughts. But you don’t even give him the chance to say them out loud because what the fuck he’s in his chair now? “Babe—”

What the fuck? What’s gotten into you and what can he do to suspend this moment in time? You’re sin incarnate at his feet, dropping to your knees and attacking him, undressing him with a force that downright startles him through. 

It borderline scares him because he’s never seen you like this. Shit, he can’t shake an icky feeling off now and he can’t fully immerse himself in the moment if he’s correct. “Are you su—”

“Let me do this,” you plead upward. And Yoongi lets those sparkling eyes lure him down. 

Fuck, fuck, focus. The way you hold his cock is heavensent and the feeling will never get old and he can’t help but groan at the feel of your fingers. But the feeling is still there. The question is still occupying his mind. 

So Yoongi utilizes every single ounce of control to stop you, saying your name for the first time in weeks. When you shoot him a look of rejection, his heart breaks in two, because your mind is like his when it defaults to the worst possible scenario. 

All he wants to do is kiss you. So he does just that, keeping it tender to calm your potential buzz. Voice soft, he asks through the dark blue of night, “You drank tonight, yeah?” 

“Yeah…?” 

Ah. He was right. Fuck, if you aren’t lucid enough, this has to stop right now. No matter how fucking bad he wants to tear you apart. 

But you reach out to palm his cheek, as if you knew exactly what he was getting at without asking. “I’m not drunk, baby. I just missed you.” 

Please be telling the truth. He won’t live with himself if you aren’t telling him what’s really going on. 

“I’m not,” you reassure through a smile that he’s missed so fucking much. Once again, Yoongi kisses you, because he can’t bear not feeling those puckered lips on his for another second. How strange it is, being able to breathe best when his mouth is smothered by yours. 

“So are you gonna fuck my throat or nah?”

Holy fuck, you can’t do that. You can’t just say shit like that and get away with it. It’s infuriating in the best way and Yoongi will worship this new, unbridled attitude of yours. What an honor to say he knew you had it in you all along. Yoongi never doubted your skyrocketing appeal for a second. “What are you doing to me.”

“This.” You don’t even give him the mercy of a warning. All Yoongi feels next is those angelic, sinful lips around his tip, eyes fluttering shut as his head kicks back in a moan. 

Euphoria. You’re his beginning and end, the middle and the rest. Nothing else in the world can bring him to his knees like this, and he can’t imagine being anywhere except at your feet. He’s in trouble. You’re not going home for a long while. 

Every swirl you make zings light along his limbs, and he opens soul-sucked eyes to you tugging your dress down fuck. 

He tastes himself when you kiss him, the wet of your efforts slathering around his mouth but he doesn’t fucking care. Reaching out, Yoongi smacks at your perfect tits, laughing to himself knowing how lucky he is. “Get the fuck back down there.”

And the smirk you send his way makes him fall in love ten times over. 

Yoongi doesn’t even know where he is. And this time, he counts that as a win. Because your licks and sucks are sending him into space, straight past the stars and into the next galaxy over. When the fuck did you get this good? It’s spurning the competitive side of him that vows to not lose to you even though he perpetually will. “Holy fuck.” 

His back muscles strain between arching and collapsing, the squeak of his chair the choir to your sinful symphony of sounds. Unbelievably hot. He may as well pass away from how good you’re milking him down.

Then he feels the back of your throat and then some. And something ignites in his core that causes his hands to find your head. 

Fuck, your eyes. They’re molten. “So fucking filthy...” 

Your laugh around his cock sends him into another frenzy. “Don’t do that.” 

But you disobey like the good girl you are, unsheathing your mouth just to swallow his balls oh goddamn. “Fuck!”

It’s over. It’s over for him. All you have to do is tell him what you want and he’s shoving the world aside to make it happen. Your insecurities? He’s banishing. Your wants and needs? He’s providing. There’s no one else but you and his chest is heaving with shallow shallow shallow breaths. 

When you let him push you closer, Yoongi groans, tapping that pretty cheek with his length and savoring the way you suck him back in like an addiction. 

He’s addicted to you, too. And after tonight, he doesn’t think he can ever get enough. The withdrawals will hit like no other, and he’ll shake and tweak until the next time he can steal you away. “So perfect… So fucking perfect… There will never be anyone else.” 

Can you even hear him? You’re so goddamn loud. 

“Fucking hell, baby,” Yoongi praises, thrusting into the heat of your mouth and shivering at the sensation you’re willing to give every time. “Missed that fuckin’ mouth.”

You’re already a beautiful sight around his cock. But when you come up for air, erotic effort dripping from your mouth and sloping down in strings to your bare chest? That’s when you’re mesmerizing. And Yoongi doesn’t dare to look away from your face. 

What the fuck, you’re going in again? Fuck that. You’re gonna make him bust before he gets the chance to ruin you. 

Gathering sweaty hands under your arms, Yoongi yanks you upward, tossing you onto his bed and growling with pride. After he’s through with you? You’ll never doubt where he stands anymore. And quite honestly, he’s damn near scared you’re gonna realize you’re much better than him, in every aspect of your promising life. 

Because you’re radiance personified, laughing up at him as if he never left you in the dark. How he played with your light, Yoongi won’t ever forgive himself. But you already have. And his heart lurches forward to worship you. 

“Take this off,” he commands into your chest. Because he needs it all. Everything, everything, everything. “No more hiding.” 

He helps you with shaking hands as you strip the dress for him, breath ragged with excitement and relief to have you here again. When you question your shoes, Yoongi immediately interrupts, because this is a fantasy he’s had from the fucking jump. “What about my—”

“Don’t.” He grips your pliant thigh. “I’m fucking you with them on.” 

“Oh, fuck.” 

That’s right. You’re getting all of him—the good, the bad, and all the forbidden thoughts he’s kept locked away. All of it’s now unleashed, unlocked by your ability to finally tell him what you want. 

When Yoongi smacks the side of your ass with a possession he’ll think about hours from now, the sound you make launches him to the edge. And when he wrenches your legs apart, his eyes blow obsidian at the sight between them. 

Yeah. He’s wrecking your shit tonight. And you’ll feel so good he might cry. 

“Please fuck me, baby,” you whisper soft, a far cry from your uninhibited demands from earlier. 

But the feeling inside Yoongi’s chest renders him even softer. Because yes, he’s going to. But there’s so much he didn’t get to do, so many things he’s been wanting to give but tore apart every chance. 

You deserve more. A whole lifetime more than what you’re asking for. And Yoongi can only summarize how he feels with a single sentence, “I’m gonna do a lot more than that, doll.” 

You don’t truly understand. But that’s okay. All you need to do is sit back and let him cherish you, starting with the smooth skin of your ankle that he brings in for a soft kiss. 

There’s no way to deny anything anymore. Here you are ready to be used, and Yoongi’s taking precious seconds to plant kisses on your leg? Of fucking course he’s too far gone. He’s been too far gone for months. If there’s one way to show you how he feels without words, he’s gonna take it. Because those three syllables are too profound to be said in a mere tryst under moonlight. 

So he pries your legs apart with passion taking the reins, growling out safer thoughts that praise you, “So fucking perfect.” 

“No, you,” you counter with a pout, and he cups your cunt to shut that shit down. “Hey!”

“None of that,” Yoongi orders with finality. “Not after all that shit you said at the door.” 

“I dunno what happened there,” you admit, now shy and looking more like yourself. It strikes his heart so hard a confession flows right out of his mouth, 

“Almost made me come.” 

“Be for real.” 

“Damn serious.” Goddamn, that grin. Yoongi has found a new obsession. 

“Then I should keep going?”

“Uh huh.” Perfect. Spill everything from those shining lips, break him down like you did two times tonight already. “Tell me.” 

Yoongi thinks you aren’t gonna do it again. You usually spark like a flare, simmering down after your initial fire then defaulting back to that adorable shyness again. So when you surprise him? All bets are off. Nothing is off limits. 

“Fuck me like you missed me.” 

And that’s when Yoongi fucking snaps. 

He launches for your throat first, feasting on your succulent skin and forcing you up his bed. When his dick brushes against your soft center, his name expels from your mouth at the same time he groans like mad. “Careful,” he finally sends you a warning about your last demand. Because he needs you to know what’s about to happen in this room. “You won’t leave if I did that.”

“I don’t want to,” you hastily respond, gripping his hair just how he likes it. “Wanna stay.”

Stay. He wants nothing but you to do that, too. It’s why he’s wrapping himself around you, latching onto every inch of your skin and grasping at anything he can get his fingers on. 

Of course, reason weasels through his brain again, seeping from his mouth without his permission. “You shouldn’t even be here, babe.”

“Just tonight.” Fuck, you sound deflated already. “But if you really don’t want this then please kick me out before—”

“Fuck that.” Yoongi tweaks your chest before rolling hard against you, relishing in the feel of your cunt and defying all sense of morals. “Fuck all of that.” 

Kick you out? You’ll learn to never say that again. “Don’t move.”

Yoongi drops to his knees, nudging your legs aside and promising dark and dangerous thoughts against your thigh. Fuck, you smell like heaven. He’s painfully hard and it will take everything in his soul to not come on his bedroom floor. 

What are you flinching for? What did he fucking say? “I said. Don’t move.” 

“But—Yoongi!” 

Patient, he shifts your slick thong sideways, breath heady as his tongue flattens completely against your cunt. And the taste, holy fuck. This is his favorite place and he’ll keep eating until you’re a shuddering, shivering mess on his sheets. The most exquisite mess he’s ever had the pleasure to make. 

A dark chuckle rumbles as you instinctively clamp your legs together. And he will always be willing to punish for that because your little whines in response are his guilty pleasures. “Uh uh.”

You taste so fucking good. All essence pooling from your folds coats his mouth in layer after slick layer, his tongue basking in the warmth of your core and lapping over, and over, and over. Greed is too light a word to describe his thirst, and he sucks at the spot he knows you love until you tremble. 

Gripping his cock with slicked fingers, Yoongi pumps himself slow, moaning as he keeps licking, sucking, penetrating your cunt with his tongue and deciding that’s not enough for him. He wants you losing your goddamn mind because you made him lose his. He wants you thrashing on his sheets and locking those beautiful muscles for hours. 

Your sounds tighten his groin impossibly hard, mingling with the squelches of his feast and the slide of his fingers along his length. Nothing beats this. Nothing will ever compete because you both sound so fucking obscene.  

The neighborhood gets to hear you again, and that thought carves a prideful grin into Yoongi’s features. You’re back, and they’re gonna know it. For as long as he can make you scream. 

When he inserts a finger to join his tongue, the sound you make almost makes him come  oh fuck. Say his name like that again and he will. Days from now, he may even bust off that singular memory alone. 

When you grab at his hair, he knows that’s when you’re close. And it spurns him into his next twisted fantasy that has his stomach fluttering. 

“Yoongi—I’m—” Nope. You’re not getting there yet. And your response curls his mouth into something ominous. “No no no! Please, fuck—”

Unbothered, Yoongi swats your sopping cunt, completely ignoring your cries for release, “What’d you say?” 

“Plea—Baby!” 

“Huh?” 

Such a terrible listener. What a shame he wouldn’t have it any other way. Because every fucking time you speak, he gets to shush you with a wet tap. And every time you decide to be a smart ass, he rewards you with no hope of reaching the edge you so fiercely crave.  

And this goes on for minutes. 

Yoongi has time. In fact, he has all the time in the world when it comes to breaking you down. You’re gonna spiral for him, you’re gonna unwind under his tongue. Because this is what you wanted and he’s nothing but incredibly thorough. 

Your thighs are quivering by the time he’s ready to reward you release, and he kisses them lovingly as you prattle off complete and utter nonsense above his sweaty head. Standing, he roves his gaze over his sheets, satisfied to hell how he’s made you a mess among them. 

And Yoongi is far, far from done with you. Sliding his dick along your folds, he hums, “This is what you wanted, huh. You gonna be a good little slut?” 

That obedience you give sets butterflies free in his chest. Because Yoongi knows you hold all the power here, him nothing but a vessel to carry out your every whim. “Then fucking beg.” 

When his cock pats your pretty pussy, your reaction has him fraying at the seams. So fucking beautiful when you twist like that. He can’t believe you gave him all these chances to see you at your most vulnerable because this is when you can’t hide a single thing from him. Your mouth betrays you in the best ways, your soul speaks to him when your brain can’t find the courage to. 

And Yoongi preens when you shower him with nothing but praise and a sailor’s barrage. His lips find yours after way too long, and when you tug at his shirt his heart pulls taut with it. 

“Please,” you finally beg. “I need you.”

“Need you, too.” He does, he does, he does. 

Quickly getting up to grab a condom, Yoongi smirks at the way you keep spouting nothing and everything, as if a dam inside burst with no hope of being stopped. Fully stripping himself, he slips the protection on before finding solace between your twitching legs, kissing you once again because fuck he cannot get enough of you tonight. Ever. No matter what lifetime he meets you in.

When you whisper his name, he takes it in his mouth, and the innate need to have you completely makes a mess of his hands. 

This is what will destroy him every time. This connection with you is what he will remember long after everything else fades away. There will never be another soul that embraces his so fully, and that truth is a belief so deep rooted it’s unshakeable. No matter what branches he cuts off, no matter what decisions he has to make. He will always, always come back to you. 

Because you’re it for him. And he can’t thank his past self enough for walking onto that balcony.

You like it best when he starts slow, especially since it’s been awhile since the last time. When Yoongi knows for a fact you haven’t seen anyone else, either, his heart grows a size, making his breath shudder while he slides further and further inside. 

He’ll wait. As always. But you don’t take long to feel comfortable, your hands lifting up to softly pull at his chains. Yoongi’s shoulders relax as you slide up to hold them for support, and he almost can’t look into those eyes he’s so afraid of.  

Bliss. This is exactly what he’s been fighting for. This is exactly why he’s going to make a much better effort—now, tomorrow, and forever. 

“I’m ready, baby,” you whisper. 

And Yoongi lets himself loose completely. 

Fuck, you feel better than he remembers, wrapping around him just right and pulsing against every ridge. If he could stay inside you every second, he would. There’s only one thing he can think of that would feel better than this, and just imagining that has him vibrating. The warmth enveloping him buckles both arms at your sides, and he crumbles to an elbow to smush his body against yours. 

“Look at me,” he commands, and he gives you a light pat on the cheek before squeezing your jaw. “Open up.”

When you do, spit flings from his mouth into yours, and his eyes blaze and twist at the primal dragon laying claim to you in his chest. Because you’re his, and he’s yours. This is all he ever needed to know. 

“Fuck!”

Fuck, that was too fucking hot. If he doesn’t control himself now he’s spilling inside of you in seconds. “What do you say?”

“Me?” you pant, hissing when he grips your chin once again. “Thank—” 

He’s thrusting inside you too hard you can’t think. But Yoongi doesn’t relent. Because he knows you can fucking take it. He knows how strong and relentless you can be, reckless just for him and pulling those same commitments from his core. 

And you prove him right yet again. “Thank you.”

“Now swallow.” As soon as he shoves inside, your obedience is his unraveling. Watching your eyes roll and your mouth part in release drags him down the shoreline with you, and he can’t fucking save himself because your tugs are too goddamn dominant. Fuck, you’re unbelievable. He will never, ever get enough of you. 

“Such a whore for me,” Yoongi praises, smiling lopsided when you remember exactly what he’s referring to. That first night you hustled the shit outta him and left him with a mind so jumbled he didn’t know what to do. God, that was ages ago. He’s not even sure he’s the same person anymore.

But you are. Just a lot more confident. At your core, you’re still the same wonderful woman, and the light in your eyes has not faded even one shade. “Love when you do that,” you admit, and he laughs when you shake your head. “Don’t know why.” 

“Me neither.” He spears you again with a cheeky lip bite. “But it’s so fucking hot.” 

Your grin can’t be contained, and this is where you wanna be. Right here. Nowhere else in the fucking universe. 

“I’m ready.” When Yoongi regards you with curiosity, he gets blindsided yet again by your forthcomingness. “Fuck the shit out of me.” 

Oh. Tonight is his last, it seems. “Goddamn, this isn’t good for me.” 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” Sitting back on his knees, he gathers your pretty ankles in a bunch. “Hold these pretty legs up for me. There you go.” It’s his turn to not give you a warning. Because you’re slick enough to handle what’s coming and he’s determined to make you do the same. 

Driving hard and fast, Yoongi unleashes his energy, slamming into your pussy again and again and relishing in the way you mewl and moan and whine. Keep doing that. He wants to hear you. It’s fuel for him to keep going and give you exactly what you want and need. If you felt insecure around him before tonight, he vows to erase all of that worry until it’s wiped from existence. You’re his world. You’re his everything. 

“Feel so good—”

More. More, more, more, he needs fucking more. When he leaves your cunt, you mewl before he grunts, “Fucking—Get up.” Raising you up by the arms, Yoongi leads you to the edge of his bed before swiping a firm arm to clear his desk. Knowing what he’s about to do, his cock twitches like mad. 

Fuck, you already look divine facedown on the surface, your legs teetering on those heels and making him grit out a groan. 

He cannot come. Not before living out one of his deepest fantasies. Fucking you on his desk? His workspace where he works on his other love? Yoongi’s already shaking before he even grips your quivering hips, shoving your thong away and letting it rest useless on one side of your perfect ass. Fuck. 

“Yoongi—”

He finds home again in an instant, pushing your bowing spine down when you habitually flinch, “Uh uh. Stay like that.” 

“I wanna—” Your words are cut off with his spank. “Fuck!”

“There you go.” The rock of the desk is so strong that every bang against the wall booms loud, equipment sliding back and forth and teetering just like you had on your high heels. Just the mere sight of you like this makes him spiral. And Yoongi can’t help but whoosh out a raspy laugh. “Goddamn.” 

He grabs your hands, shoving you even flatter against his desk so he can pin your arms against your slick back. Possessive? Yes. Unsatiable? Even more so. 

Your moans fling out as he doesn’t let up, and Yoongi moans at the way you squeeze and milk his cock—relentless, uncompromising, just how he fucking wants it. 

More. He still wants more? Fuck. “Come here.” He gathers your wrists in one palm before reaching around your chest, hauling you up and pinning you against his body by the throat. It’s so sweaty under his touch, glistening and tempting to be sucked until he mars you with lust. 

“Never fucking kicking you out.” His next stroke is intentionally harsh, and those moans will take residence in his mind for years. “Don’t even think about saying that again.” 

Your weight falls on his arms when he shoves into you again, feet scrambling for solid ground and wobbling your legs into jello. 

But Yoongi doesn’t give a shit. “You hear me?” When you let out a breathy confirmation, he still isn’t satisfied. A hand pats your cheek before he asks again, “Say it louder.” 

“Yes!”

“Good.” That’s all you get before he jumps into a frenzy, pistoning as fast and as hard as he can possibly manage. When he brings you back down to his desk, Yoongi takes advantage of the position, thrusting and thrusting and thrusting into your heavenly velvet. 

This is exactly what he needed. What you needed. Of course you both yearned for the same blue flame, ripping each other apart and rebuilding each other again. 

You’re close. Yoongi can feel you. So he menacingly decides to prolong your release yet again—

You shove him so fast he can’t react, thumping onto his bed and cackling like mad when you leap onto his frame. Fuck, your eyes are so blown and vicious they set him on fire, and he’s gripping your sloping hips and shoving you against his length before he can fully taunt, “Let’s go then, pretty bitch.”

“You already fucking know.”

“Show me what I’ve been missing.”

“Don’t fall in love.” 

Right. He’s already groaning when you take your throne, regal and royal and showing him exactly why he already has. But when you swing your pelvis and take him even deeper, Yoongi reminds himself that he can always fuck you like he doesn’t. And that’s both of your favorite ways to sin. “Fuck.”

His head kicks back, eyes squeezing shut in lust. He’s so tight that he might hurt you, so his hands grapple his sheets instead and tense his muscles indefinitely. 

You feel good. Way too fucking good. If you’ve been practicing with those secrets you have in your bedside drawer he can damn well fucking tell. Soon, his hisses devolve into groans, and he snaps his head back up to slap your breasts—one after the other before gripping your hips with force. “Fuck, I missed this pussy,” he confesses with husk, and you whine in response as you lower yourself to kiss him deep. 

“It missed you, too.” You’re extending yourself up his body now, upping his heartbeat until it races to catch up with his feelings. But everything unholy fills him to the brim when you arch your tits to his face. It seems you figured some things out while he was gone. 

A dark chuckle leaves as he suckles on one of your nipples, lolling around and drawing whines right out of your lips. It’s adorable to feel you frozen around his waist, too distracted by his tongue that you can’t multitask both ends. 

It’s okay. He can do that for you. Grabbing the back of your neck, Yoongi thrusts himself up into your heat, marvelling at the way your mouth flops open to say his name. “Uh huh.”  

Before you can talk again, his other hand joins in to choke you from the other side, and his eyes engulf in black when yours roll impossibly far back. 

Fuck. He’s not gonna last much longer. But you’re gonna reach bliss a thousand times before he worries about himself. “You gonna come?”

A frantic nod.

“Then come.” 

As soon as you hear the words, you do exactly that, windpipe released just as you pulse around him so hard he hisses out a curse. Shit, shit, his release is right behind yours. The way you tug at his cock proves too much, and he stutters out words of encouragement when spilling out his own release inside latex. But you’re inundating around him even after he comes, and Yoongi selfishly commands you with a rasp, “Again.” 

To his shock, you obey immediately, crying out and arching so far back Yoongi feels himself close again, too. Has he come more than once in awhile? He doesn’t remember the last time that happened, if at all. But he knows it can happen with you. There’s no doubt he can get there with you, because he loves you so fucking much. 

Fuck. Fuck, did he just say that last confession out loud? No. No, he didn’t. There’s no fucking way. 

Sitting up, he waits as you sling arms around him, leaning back and smirking at the way the new angle makes you moan. Confident you can do it a fourth time, he repeats, “Again.” 

Your head shakes before your arms lock around his neck, and one tilt of his hips pushes you over the edge. And god. Damn. This reaction you have to your own body sends Yoongi to a higher plane. He stares in awe as your eyes roll again, drinking in the sight of you and questioning what the hell he’d done to deserve a front row seat.

You’ve both come so far. But Yoongi is more proud of you for finding your sensuality in perfect stride and pace. This is wholly you, losing yourself and baring your soul to him in full. Despite what you’re doing, you radiate such an angelic aura, and Yoongi has pricks at the corners of his eyes. 

He has his guardian angel back. And he would burn the universe without a second thought if it kept you safe and warm. “So fucking perfect.”

“For you,” you wisp out. “Only you.” 

How you decided to stay with him, Yoongi will never be able to fathom. But you came back effortlessly. You welcomed him back like the promise of a nostalgic summer.  

Lowering you to his sheets, he positions you to where you’re most comfortable. When he asks if you’re okay, you can only nod, and he plants another kiss on your temple before sliding off his protection. It doesn’t take him long to trash, and he makes his way back to the bed to take full advantage of your body heat. 

There’s complete silence now. But for the first time in months, Yoongi’s more than fine with that. Because it’s nothing but comforting, with your occasional nudge against his chest and soft breaths warming his chains. 

Soothing your back with circles, something walks into his brain, and he can’t hold it in any longer as his mouth spreads wide into a grin, “I need to re-up this damn cat’s food.” 

That squeal is so fucking worth the surprise. 

“I knew it!” Yoongi pretends to be annoyed when you figure him all the way out. “Tried to hide it from me all these months? Somebody’s getting soft.”

“First off.”

“Uh huh.”

Someday, one day soon, he’s gonna take you shopping for her. You’re going to run through his entire wallet, but Yoongi doesn’t care because he’s gonna be at his happiest picking toys and things out for you. 

He can even buy you storage for some of your clothes, too. 

Maybe that can be your next surprise. 

“I’m her favorite.” 

Your scoff is immediate, and Yoongi watches as you attempt to tower over him. “Only because you gatekeeped her.”

Gatekeeped? Is that even a word? A soft disagreement precedes a more prominent, “Won’t even matter.” Because she’s definitely going to warm up to you more. He’s gonna take pride in the small amount of time he’s the favorite before being recognized as the lowly food and water boy. 

Something softens in your stare. And he’s wondering what’s floating around in that attractive mind of yours. “You took care of her.”

He did. Because she came back when he was himself again. And if that wasn’t a sign for good things to come, Yoongi will make it one anyway. “She was gonna be your surprise,” he finally murmurs. “For getting the gig.”

Your eyes still before you offer a smile that stops his heart. When you lean down to give him a kiss, the same organ beats in double time when you plant love on his forehead right after. 

Oh. That was… 

“Come here,” Yoongi whispers, wrapping you against his side as you lie back down. Calling it what it is, he’s simply too shy to look into your eyes right now. “How are you gonna get home?” He’s fine taking you. But there’s a lot of risk there if your brother is awake or driving up at the same time. And—

Shit. You still have those shoes on. They can’t be comfortable while lying down, especially after you took him like a champion.

“I’ll call a ride in the morning. He’ll be out cold until noon at the earliest.” 

“K.” 

“Did I keep you from anything?”

A puff flies out his nostrils. Of course you’d still ask that after commandeering the rest of his night. “Kinda late for that, huh.” 

“True. Sorry.”  

“But no, we were finishing up when I called.” 

“Okay… Did I scare you?” When Yoongi can’t confess out loud, he lets his eyes speak for him. Which makes your voice heavy with apology, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” 

“S’ok.” 

“I just… It hurt tonight.” Fuck. “Really hurt.” 

He knows exactly what you mean. It’s been hurting like this ever since he left. Which means he  has to make up all that time. Grappling onto this chance you gave like a lifeline, he’s gonna right all his wrongs and fully commit. No matter how many shadows are in this damn apartment, because he now knows you’ll help chase them away.  

After a light squeeze, Yoongi gently shifts his weight, resting his head exactly where your hand clutches your chest. When you move your fingers, he kisses that same spot, hoping you understand what he means. “How about now.” 

Fingers meek, you clutch his head with a broken response, “Maybe try that one more time.”

He’ll do it as many times as you ask. 

Yoongi can feel the shudder in your chest. And he knows what that usually means. So he decides to run from your expression one more time, trying something else to hopefully comfort you. Sliding to the edge of his bed, he gently lifts one of your ankles onto a leg, back fully facing you as he undoes the meticulous leather straps. “I always do, babe.” 

When you’re silent, he slips one heel off before clarifying. “Miss you.”

“I just… Wasn’t sure.” 

He hates the waver in your voice. Hates how he’s the sole cause of it and fighting hard to not hurtle down another hole. “That’s my fault.” 

Throat small, you’re swift to reassure him. “No, no. I need to just suck it up. I’m sorry.” 

After freeing your other foot, he rubs it without prompt, finding comfort in massaging your exhausted soles. If he allows himself to dream, it would be to end each and every night just like this. Driving you to release before soothing your tired bones as you talk about whatever’s on your mind, working toward his dream while you drift off and get lost in yours. 

Can he have that? Will the universe let him have a future despite his past? “Just a little bit longer, doll,” he says, turning to look at the floor. “I’m sorry.” 

“You gave me tonight.” When he swallows, you reassure him with all the support you can give, “A little longer is nothing.” 

Of course. How could you be any less than perfect? A moment passes before he shifts, and this is when he finally spots the ocean of littered pens and papers on his floor. 

Is his smile that obvious? It doesn’t take you long to call his ass out. “You liked whatever happened over there, huh.”

Immediately, Yoongi’s shoulders bob with a laugh before he admits, “Fucking you on my desk? I’ve wanted to do that for months.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Going through all the other scenarios he’s thought of—one that occurs a little far from here—he grins. “There’s a lot of shit I’ve wanted us to do for months.” 

“Oh? Like what?”

He looks over his shoulder, and you scoff in frustration at his answer, “What’s the fun in telling you?”

“Ass!”

—

—

Yoongi does his damned best to keep that smile on your face. After a shower that proves steamier than usual, he offers to make you dinner when your stomach roar makes him double over in laughter. And while he whips up a meal from the last batch of groceries Taehyung brought, Yoongi peeks around the bar to watch you discreetly open his front door. 

Wearing a shirt he used to wipe his own tears weeks ago. He’s been an utter, complete fool. 

“Is she there?” He calls out, to which you turn with a prominent pout on your lips. 

“No.” When you huff and puff to the kitchen, his eyes crease tight. “Whatever, I have plenty of time to become her new fave.” 

Over dinner, your laughs mix with his own as you tell him all your work stories. And Yoongi quickly realizes that this could’ve been the whole night and he’d be just as happy. Just as fulfilled. What does that tell him? Nothing he doesn’t already know. 

It’s when you both settle into bed that things simmer. And as Yoongi lies on your hearth of a chest, you tell him everything that happened with Jungkook. How you met, when your brother went from protectiveness to approval, up until the night he broke your heart. 

Yoongi doesn’t say a word. But he does encourage you to keep talking about your new job. Because it seems like the perfect fit for you, which is the complete opposite from where you were before. 

“Oh, wait,” you suddenly stop during a story about office decorating, “What did you call about?”

“Huh? Tonight?” 

“Yeah.” 

Now that it’s his turn to speak, Yoongi feels shy. You’ve been experiencing so much while he was away, and it’s relieving to know you didn’t lose most of your spark. “We finally have a confirmed date. For that album,” he murmurs. “I was gonna invite you to the release party.”

You tense. “Me?”

A laugh flows out, warming his cheek. “Yes, you. All of y’all.” 

It takes a second for you to ask what he suspects you would, “That won’t be weird?” 

“Nah. You can bring anyone you want, so. I was assuming you’d bring your friends.” 

“Ah, I see.”

Nope. There’s that insecurity again. And he’s already there to push it away, planting kisses along your skin, your neck, and landing home on your lips. “It won’t be the only one,” he promises. “We got time.”

“Duh,” you giggle. “And I’ll be at all of them. Whether you like it or not.” 

Oh. Yeah. He loves you more than words could ever convey. 

But he doesn’t feel like he can tell you just yet. That’s the last hurdle he has to clear, and he finds himself eating shit every time he attempts. But it’s okay. There’s still time. Because you chose him again, you gave him another chance, you’re here. 

Finding his spot on your chest again, Yoongi immediately feels at peace. All the nights he dreaded, and all the nights he doesn’t remember—every single one can’t touch him now. Because in you, he finds a safe haven, the rolling hills of your limbs and the valley of your breasts shining and warm under your smiles. 

He’ll find a way to do this. He’ll find a way to set things straight with your brother and his past. Soon. Maybe. Hopefully. 

Yoongi starts to lull as you glide gentle fingers through his hair, something else that lends him the solace he’d been seeking for months. God, all he needed was you. And you’re the only thing he left… behind…

You’re humming. 

Ever the curious musician, Yoongi perks his ears to figure out what you’re singing. Is it something he can recognize? Is it a song he doesn’t know? No. You aren’t humming anything in particular. Which makes this performance unique and only for him, and your soft lilt tugs on every single string of his heart. 

Forget everything he had said before. This is how he wants to end every night, floating amongst your stars while your voice dips his mind in a stream of gentle song. 

God. You’re composing and don’t even know it. The way you stop before trying something different, the small grunt you make before going again to make a phrase better. It’s not unlike his own creative process, and that connection yanks tears straight from his soul. 

What did he ever do. What did he ever do to be with you.

“Shit, was I too loud?”

Yoongi just shakes his head, holding you closer and hoping you don’t notice the droplets through his tee. “Not at all.” 

So you keep going, humming more familiar tunes and phrases, moving on to a drumline on his head that makes him huff in pure delight. 

But Yoongi commits that moving line you liked to memory, remembering every note and already weaving it into the fabric of his own making. A breakthrough sparks new life into his eyes, and Yoongi squeezes them tight while his lungs silently burn and burn. 

It’s what he had been fucking missing.  

You were the key this whole time. 

And he waits until you fall asleep to let out grateful, heavy sobs into your chest. 

—

—

The day after you left is one of the most stressful ones of his life. From the whirlwind of a morning to the moment of bravery in the studio to handling your brother, Yoongi needs a whole week of no brain activity. 

But that call with you long after night fell just changed his whole perspective on the time he’d been gone. 

You sounded so broken, so fragile, so defeated. It didn’t matter to have that one night of reunion. He fucked up the next day by falling asleep and leaving you worried yet again. 

You asked if he was done with you. And from the way you asked it, you already believed it to be true. 

And Yoongi never, ever wants you to question where he stands again. Not when there’s three words he wants to say to you every fucking day. 

When the phone cuts, Yoongi’s hand falls, his stare shifting straight to the living room. Right towards the corner that stares back. “You’re nothing to me anymore,” he vows, walking to the guitar that almost shies away. “I’m done.” 

Keep saying it. Keep believing it. Keep focusing on the present and grasping that instead. And one day, these words will be truer than true. 

Reaching for the case, Yoongi stops midway, his hand unable to go any farther. 

All he has to do is throw it out. That’s it. Just take it, walk to the nearest dumpster, and discard. Years of toxins will fester somewhere else, and he’ll finally be rid of the dark. 

In the end, he still can’t do it. But that won’t stop him from showing you he’s better now. Showing himself he’s better now. 

Because he is, he is, he is. 

“For us.” 

-

-

tbc in fugue, pt. iii

-

so... thoughts before part 3? | join the server! | fugue pt. iii

a/n: this was the part that i couldn't write until i knew yoongi was fine. it was always the plan to have him isolated, but to see real life yoongi go through all that last summer.. i couldn't find it in my heart to write his self-isolation and self-deprecation without my soul hurting. it just didn't feel right. but as soon as i saw him okay? 3tan yoongi came back again. and my fingers flew. a/n 2: thank you again, everyone. i hope you all love all the parts of fugue in equal amounts! any support, love, or encouragement means the whole world to me. again, i'm sorry for taking so long to update the main storyline, but i am back. for real. love you guys so much. ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

[jinxificada]

hmmm... serial killer jinx.. modern au.. cabin in the woods typa story..

imagining reader joining a trip in the last minute, with her best friend's boyfriend and his friends. neither your friend nor you were in the plans to begin with, but one of the group got caught up in something and your friend filled the spot, she begged you to come with her.

you don't know these people, you didn't share much apart from living in the same small shitty town and having assisted to the same school—again, small shitty town.

so you didn't think you'd have the summer of your life, not in three days, in a random cabin by the lake. at least you could get a nice tan! that was the only thing you looked forward to. that and to stare at the pretty blue haired girl you wish you knew more about.

she was like an it girl to you, a classic hallway crush. way out of your league. you simply didn't swing the same way, and since you didn't think she'd ever be interested in you, you were just content with side glancing at her whenever you crossed her path.

and now you're vacationing with her? damn you're lucky. again, you told yourself over and over that showing your interest on her wasn't worth the humiliation. then why were you packing the prettiest bikini you owned? yeah, right.

she was so cool, so easygoing. you always thought that even if she had a bit of a popularity as the trouble girl, it didn't mean she was a bad person. i mean, what teenager wouldn't dream of signing the old ass water tank in town? the thing wasn't even working anyway, you didn't think they should've charged for it.

but when you find her covered in the blood of the same girl she walked around school with linked arms, you realized that, in fact, you did not know this girl at all.

maybe you should be careful with your wishes, cause you might've been better off without knowing she hated her friends enough to murder them in an isolated cabin in the woods.

sidew note i thought abt this in halloween lmaoao i was so lazy to write heh excuse the dirt i tried to clean it up

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

oof, everything with izuku and shinsou in pez makes me so sad, is there any au where they’re friends? or do they ever get along better in the future?

I won’t say about the “getting along better in the future” bit because I’d rather that be revealed in the fic itself. I do have a fic where they’re best friends from nearly the very beginning of canon that I fondly refer to as my Fake Dating AU, despite the fact that there is no fake dating at all.

All Might and Inko are fake bitter divorcees.

I love this fic so much, it’s my favorite bnha fic next to pez, and it’s been sitting in my mind for years now. If I ever publish another bnha fic, it’ll probably be this one. More info below the cut for anyone who wants to avoid spoilers to a fic I may never write.

Fundamentally the issue is this:

A child

EXPLODES

At the UA Entrance Exam.

This is only like 20% Izuku’s fault, or, depending on how you look at it, 100% Izuku’s fault.

Unluckily for everyone, Monoma stole Izuku’s Quirk first out of everyone. He. Explodes. (Yes, I know that he just draws a blank when he steals OfA I came up with this before that became canon just ignore that ignore it).

Anyway it’s just his arm but this is still wildly traumatizing for everyone. While Aizawa is fucking booking it across campus and lawyers are getting contacted and ambulances are called and all exams are getting halted, three people respond:

Midoriya Izuku, wondering if he is legally to blame for this kid’s arm exploding

Shinsou Hitoshi, no idea what the fuck is going on, just there to force the kid with no arm to calm down and breathe so he doesn’t bleed out faster

Iida Tenya, confused, blood splattered, sprinting across campus to kidnap someone named Setsuna Tokage on Izuku’s frantic order

Monoma gets better, because Izuku had met Setsuna earlier in the day and correctly realized that Monoma may regrow his own arm if he copied Setsuna’s Quirk. But the entire exam gets canceled for everyone, and the three kids who were directly involved in the emergency response get held for their parents. Legally, they need to bring them back for interviews about what happened, and they need to get parents involved at that point.

Izuku has a problem, and it is this:

Everyone knows it’s his Quirk that made that boy explode.

But he didn’t have a Quirk this morning.

His mom knows this.

He frantically texts all might begging him to pick him up instead. The school won’t release him unless an adult comes to get him and he’s got no other options save his mom. He didn’t know how to tell the he got a quirk but he knows that making a boy EXPLODE is not the way to do it.

But it’s fine. All Might is coming. He will be here, and it will be fine then. This is so, so fine.

Izuku: “Mr. Aizawa, you don’t have to call my mom. I texted my—” Adult man who I meet 4-7 times a week in an isolated location without parental knowledge or supervision. But don’t worry, it’s just because he told me not to tell anyone. Haha, you don’t want to call the police on this man. “—dad.”

Aizawa, does not want to be here: we already called your mom kid.

Izuku: oh god

Aizawa: she was down as your emergency contact. But if your dad is coming instead, I’m sure that he’ll let her know

Izuku: that… sure does sound like the kind of information people that share a child would share

Aizawa, so fucking tired: okay

Now Izuku has a new problem:

His dad is coming.

He doesn’t have a dad.

His mom knows this.

He tries to frantically call off all might. All might does not respond. He is a model citizen and does not text while driving. Izuku is fucked.

Iida is picked up. Izuku waits. His mom arrives. There are tears. He tries to power walk her out of the building before anyone says the words “your sons quirk blew up a boy” out loud and in that order

Yagi Toshinori frantically enters the room, takes one look at him, looks at no other fucking people, and says “my boy are you alright”

Izuku: fuck.exe

This all makes more sense to Aizawa now. A haunting amount of sense. He needs to go day drink.

Aizawa, in haunting realization: so this is your son

All Might, did not plan this far ahead: … yes

Midoriya Inko, knows she did not have a child with this man: I’m sorry—

Izuku, panicked: HI DAD

What follows is a lot of eyebrow raising and hissed, cut off whispers and begging his mom under his breath to be fucking cool about this please please please. As a result, she does not immediately out the fact that she has no idea who the fuck this man is and she wants him arrested for something, she will figure out what.

The other result is that the vibes are so immediately and violently toxic that Aizawa and fucking Shinsou, who is also here, immediately comes to the conclusion that Izuku’s parents are bitter divorcees who have given up trying to keep it together for the kid and are just at each other’s fucking throats.

Aizawa, wants to know less about All Might’s personal life: … anyway your son’s Quirk was copied during the entrance exam and the arm of the child who did it. Exploded. You’ll need to bring your son in within the week to answer some questions for our records

Inko, shocked: my son doesn’t have a quirk

Izuku: fuck.exe

Aizawa, staring at fucking All Might, mildly: no it was definitely your son’s quirk

Yagi, never sweated harder in his fucking life: well… honey, uh, you know that on my side of the family there’s a history of late bloomers

Inko, saccharine: did I know that, sweetie? Because that sure sounds like something a mother should know about her child, but I’m not sure that I knew that. In fact, it may be that everyone just expected me to know that when I walked into this room without telling me

Aizawa:

Shinsou: :o

Aizawa: to be clear only one parent is needed for the follow up interview

Inko: he is Quirkless. He was always going to apply Quirkless.

Yagi: right right but, well, it seems that he has a Quirk now, so perhaps it’s best if he uses that

Inko: ONE THAT EXPLODES ARMS???

Yagi: I am certain it does other things too

Aizawa, staring directly at the ceiling: I’m sorry, I can’t let you leave here today if you may explode. When was the first time you used your Quirk and were you able to use it safely

Izuku, coughing slightly: technically I’ve never. Used. My quirk

Shinsou: :o :o :o

Izuku: so really it’s been a day of surprises for us all

Aizawa:

Izuku: but hey I got my Quirk guys. yayyyyyy.

Matters escalate. Inko unlocks her theatre kid background and accuses All Might of violating the custody agreement that they do not have. The words “I’ll kill you in this room” are said aloud and where other people can hear them. Izuku has to restrain his own mother.

Izuku asks if they could please have a family meeting. Aizawa says that they definitely should.

Izuku convinces his mother to not murder Yagi long enough to get them all into an empty bathroom, where she immediately starts beating all might, his lifelong hero and personal mentor, with her purse.

He transforms into All Might so she won’t try to kill him on the spot.

THE RESULTS:

Izuku’s mom is so fucking angry

She is so fucking angry

But she also knows that if shit gets revealed “I have all might’s quirk because I am his secret son” is 1000% better than “I have all might’s quirk because it’s transferrable and you can have it too if you torture it out of me.”

Inko will happily fake being bitter divorcees with all might if it means adding an extra layer of protection for her son. They’re doing this.

THE OTHER RESULTS:

Shinsou Hitoshi just sort of wanted to go to the bathroom and opened the door to find his fellow test taker with his mom and the world’s most famous man who was obviously the same guy as the dad from before, like they’re wearing identical clothes and everything, and after a moment of haunting silence says “I’ll use the other one” and just. Leaves.

Izuku: fuckfuckfuck.exe

Shinsous not a dick okay. He’s not going to leak the fact that the world’s most famous man apparently has a tinier, more unobtrusive form and he’s been using it to quietly white knuckle his way through the worlds most rancid divorce, fucking apparently. All Might’s saved like, a stupid number of people and possibly the world. He does not want to be this involved in All Might’s life and is hoping that he can confidently power walk his way out of this social interaction.

He cannot.

He has to suffer it. Nope, he’s not gonna tell anyone. Yes, really. If forgetting was an option, he’d have already done it. He promises. It’s all good. He’ll keep quiet.

He then has to have the same conversation with Aizawa.

Before they part, Izuku tells Shinsou that his Quirk is amazing and, a bit impulsively, asks him if he wants to train with him for the rescheduled exams. And Shinsou wonders if this is a trap and deflects with, “Oh you probably have a lot of people you can train with don’t let me hold you up.”

And no. No, Izuku really, really doesn’t.

And Shinsou remembers that while he knows this guy as All Might’s son, no one else does, and he was also thought to be Quirkless until an hour ago and obviously has a lot going on in his home life. So, a bit impulsively, he exchanges numbers with Izuku.

Which is how my AU where Izuku and Shinsou end up best friends before UA gets set up. It’s way too long to discuss in any detail, but some highlights:

The pre-UA friendship is actually Izuku, Shinsou, and Iida. Iida feels embarrassed because he was canonically coming down kind of hard on Izuku during the exam and then when boys exploded Izuku was in full control of the situation and acted the way a hero should and so did the other boy and next to them Iida must have seemed simply abominable and anyway Tensei cannot fucking take it anymore he simply cannot so he hunts Aizawa like an animal to a coffee shop so he can try and squeeze Aizawa for information about whoever the fuck the other boys are so Iida can just apologize or whatever the fuck honor demands and it’s just

Aizawa: no

Tensei: you don’t even know what I was going to say

Aizawa: the answer is no whatever it is

Tensei: you havent even heard my bribe yet

Aizawa: what is your bribe

Tensei: *sliding a coffee cup his way*

Aizawa: your bribe is coffee

Aizawa: in a coffee shop

Tensei: wait

Aizawa: so it’s essentially a market value of 400 yen is that it

Tensei: wait. Okay. This is a secret, off menu coffee with so much caffeine that you have to sign a waiver. They call it the nine engine locomotive. And it can be yours if you help me out here

Aizawa:

Aizawa: *walks over to the cashier*

Tensei: fuck wait wait

Aizawa: can I have the nine engine locomotive

Cashier: do you have a death wish

Aizawa: I have two jobs and one is teaching

Cashier: sir for you we can make it ten engines

Aizawa does admit that, to his deepest misfortune, he knows one of the parents of the kids in question. He can’t hand out their information but he can pass along the message. Izuku and Shinsou end up meeting with Iida for coffee and the three of them become friends and agree to train together for whenever they reschedule the exams for

This turns out to be a moot point because, as a result of this mess, the UA board of directors has to be informed that the student involved is all mights secret son and they lose their minds. He is All Might’s secret son who has a Quirk so powerful that it explodes lesser boys. They absolutely must have him at UA they’re sure he’ll figure out how not to explode. Nedzu, Nedzu, admit him now before he accepts from another school. Nedzu.

Nedzu has 97 screened calls and a headache.

The thing is that this has caused a bit of havoc. UA is usually the first school to hold their entrance exams. They usually get the pick of the litter. But now they have to laboriously replan and reschedule the entire practical exam for every single heroics applicant, which is causing conflicts with other courses’ exams, and they need to make sure that the new exam minimizes the risk of boys exploding for legal reasons. So they’re scrambling already without the Board suddenly deciding to just let in people for being all might’s son, which they can’t do. They’re even making Endeavor’s son sit the fucking exam. Do you want the number two hero to burn the foyer down. Do you. Because he will.

But the Board is insistent. Shiketsu will steal All Might’s secret son who explodes lesser boys out from under them. Admit him.

They end up fudging it as an early admission deal based on an extreme display of heroism. He saved an actual life are you saying that’s not enough to pass the exam?? Monoma is alive and has an arm thanks to Izuku’s quick thinking, which is saving UA from an incredibly costly lawsuit. He gets full rescue points. Boom. Call him right now tell him he’s in do it before shiketsu finds out all might has a secret son that explodes lesser boys.

And nedzu’s like. Okay. But if you want that reasoning to clear, it needs to be applied to all the boys involved.

And the Board is like, wasn’t the other one an Iida boy? Great family, great Quirk, great potential. Let him in.

And Nedzu says, And Shinsou Hitoshi.

Someone with a mind control quirk like his hasn’t made it into heroics in over 30 years. The revised exam won’t give him any real chances of changing that. It’s a trade off. They can cut corners for All Might’s secret son, but they have to give Shinsou Hitoshi a chance. Nedzu has a good feeling about him, anyway.

One morning, Shinsou wakes up to a letter, and it tells him, “Hello, we think you’re spectacular, and we’d like to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Won’t you say yes?”

Okay, it doesn’t say it like that. But it might as well be what he hears.

He calls Izuku. Izuku got the same letter. They scream on the phone with each other until they’re breathless and giddy.

But the thing is. UA. Also. Informed. Their Schools. Who. Made. An announcement.

Bakugou loses his fucking mind.

Bakugou didn’t even want Izuku applying to UA. Only for Izuku to be one of three people in history to get early admission offers?? He’s fucking furious. He wants to know how Izuku did it.

And the thing is? Izuku already decided that he wasn’t going to reveal his shiny new quirk to these people. He doesn’t want them to suddenly decide to treat him well because he’s not Quirkless anymore. Fuck them.

Anyway Iida Tenya, following multiple flowcharts and pro cons lists, decided that it was Acceptable Friend Behavior to surprise his new, dear companions at their schools to personally congratulate them on their early acceptance and potentially indulge in some celebratory beverages together. His school released earlier than theirs, as his school had modeled its academic structure to complete earlier in the day so that hero hopefuls could take advantage of the heroics exam prep courses it offered, which he had been excused from since he had secured early admission to UA. So it was a simple matter to head over to Aldera and catch some feral, frothing hooligan physically accosting his dear, dear friend with illegal Quirk usage no less. Iida, of course, verbally reprimanded the vagabond and marched straight to the office to report such deplorable behavior

Bakugou: who the fuck was that

Izuku, gaping after him: fuck—Iida, Iida wait

He didn’t stop him in time.

And despite Iida’s fervent and loud insistence as to what happened, the principal blames Izuku.

Iida’s someone who just cannot abide by injustice. It gets under his skin. It makes him angry. He gets more baffled and aghast and furious the more he sees how Izuku is treated. He also gets confused as to why they think Izuku’s Quirkless and, even if he was, what that would have to do with him being physically assaulted on school property.

The school, for all of its happy announcement, wasn’t actually happy that Izuku made it in. They actually called UA to make sure that they were talking about the right student, which was a fun call for Nedzu to get. They still don’t know that Izuku has a quirk, because UA didn’t tell them and neither did Izuku, so they think Izuku did some kind of first aid or something to respond to an emergency and got sort of waved into the program. So whereas Iida got a personal congratulations from his principal, Izuku got called up to the office to be asked if he really thinks that whatever minor first aid he performed means he’s ready for UA heroics? He’s taking a spot from someone who deserves it more, and it will look worse on them when it becomes clear he can’t do it. It’s selfish. He’d be better off declining it.

Izuku drags Iida off of his school grounds and to shinsou’s school. Shinsou’s got his backpack strap torn off and a fresh cut in his lip. He takes one look at Izuku and laughs, bitter and empty

Iida takes this arc the worst. He is very protective of his friends and does not want to abide by other students or adults abusing them. He wants justice.

The boy spirals. He is power walking to their schools every single day to pick them up. He is baking them high protein brownies and writing them little encouraging notes for nutritional snack packs he hand prepares. He is Exuding An Energy.

They start a shared google drive and he has an entire folder labeled “My Revenge Plan By Iida Tenya” that’s dedicated to compiling evidence regarding these injustices and one day taking away all color of power or authority from those who wronged his friends. Izuku and Shinsou don’t actually know what’s up with the folder (the google drive is sacred they’re not gonna go in his room some people have revenge plans it’s fine)

Later in the fic they invite Todoroki to join their google drive and he immediately, instinctively, and without need for explanation knows that this is the emotional equivalent of asking him to move in with them. He is honored and he is touched.

There’s a mini buzzfeed unsolved arc because Izuku and Shinsou are experimenting with shinsou’s quirk and Izuku says “hey what’s with those eight shadowy figures that watch me ominously in the distance every time you put me under” and Shinsou says “the fucking what” and Izuku says “the eight shadowy figures” and Shinsou says “say psych right now”

After determining Iida does not see them too they decide that Izuku is obviously deeply and profoundly haunted because of that one time Bakugou dared him to knock on the door of that old abandoned house everyone said was haunted and now the ghosts live in his bones. This conclusion is compounded by the fact that the past users find this fucking hilarious and decide to haze the newbie by playing it up

The issue is that Iida is extremely productive and decides that what they need is to make a tour of all major religions and sample their exorcism rituals and go from there. Izuku has had 11 exorcisms from multiple religions and now Catholic bishops won’t stop calling Iida because Izuku’s catholic exorcism was wildly and blatantly unsuccessful and they are very concerned that satan is within him and Iida is of the stance that if they couldn’t do it the first time he doesn’t see what “going to the Vatican” will do so good day sir. Iida is trying to ghost the Catholic Church he keeps blocking their number and they keep calling from a new one. Izuku is despondent he does not want to go to Rome

Eventually they have to admit to the adults in their life that Izuku is obviously, profoundly, and irreversibly haunted because they decide to just say fuck it and use it for warfare. It’s their nuclear option. Total wildcard. When they are out of all other options, Shinsou just puts Izuku under and sees what crazy shit those ghosts do. The first time they have to use it Izuku explodes into a hurricane of writhing and enraged tentacles that try to manually break shigaraki in half.

Shinsou, sweating, trying to open the folder labeled “hey there demons it’s me ya boi”

Aizawa, stone faced: why is one of the folders labeled My Revenge Plan By Iida Tenya

Iida: I don’t see how that’s relevant

Izuku: oh my gosh sensei you can’t just—

Shinsou: you can’t just ask what someone’s doing in the google drive sensei it’s sacred

Aizawa:

Shinsou: *hits play* *x-files theme song immediately begins to play* *defeated whisper* I forgot we did that

I cannot emphasize enough just the peak shenanigans of pre-UA Iida, Izuku, and Shinsou. They end up spending nearly every single day together. They sleep over at each other’s houses. They become just incredibly close and some days Shinsou can’t breathe from it, because he walked into that exam with no friends and no real hope of passing, and now some days he can’t believe that this is his life. He can’t believe he has this.

Iida’s living with his brother, who is handling the launch of the Mustufasa branch of Idaten, to take advantage of a private middle school in the area that is a feeder school into UA. They regularly have at least one student a year make it into the heroics program and multiple who manage to get into support, business, or gen ed. So throughout all this a very confused Iida Tensei is Doing His Best while his little brother and his friends end up hysterical after playing with a Ouijia board during a sleep over. He’s very confused because the other parents seem to think he is a parent and he is not he is not he’s too young and hot to be tenya’s dad. He’s in a parents group chat with Izuku’s parents and Shinsou’s dad and is like “am I. Did you mean to put me in here. Should I. Add my mom?” And then later it’s a source of great hysteria for him. What do you MEAN he’s in a group chat with All Might what do you mean all might told him that ingenium is one of his favorite heroes and Tensei didn’t even realize he was all might when he said it. Shouta shouta how could you not warn him—

When they get to UA and Izuku somehow gets two votes for class president (who the fuck voted for him Izuku didn’t even vote for himself) and ends up in a three way tie with Iida (shinsou and Izuku both voted for him he’s so type a it’s what the office needs) and Yaoyorozu and he hires Shinsou as his campaign manager to help him throw the election and Iida gets so affronted at what the resultant flyers say about his dear dear friend that he tries to passionately concede the election and Izuku is like “no I commissioned those also shinsou you’re fired” and Shinsou is like “hey every single thing I wrote is true”

Iida and Izuku but Izuku especially just acts like it’s a given that they’re going to be doing team ups with Shinsou when they’re older. Izuku commissions a voice modulator that can throw its voice between his and Shinsous to help obscure who’s talking in case anyone figures out shinsou’s quirk and Shinsou doesn’t know how to explain to Izuku that he thought no one would ever tolerate him as a hero, let alone be excited to work with him

[respectthepetty]

I would be sad about Akin's photos being leaked at the very beginning of Top Form's ninth episode, but the visual of both him and Jade being isolated, caged, and with a barrier between them, while Akin's side kept getting smaller was just too good for me to sit in despair.

Because even when Akin goes to make a deal with a devil, he is surrounded by greenery.

Like, yes, Akin is depressed and back to being dark believing that in order to save Jin, he'll have to distance himself from him, but there is still a tiny bit of light.

And as much as he thinks he is in this alone, Jade is in this messy prison with him.

Jin always gives Akin his color back.

Because Jin is the love of his life.

So did I think Jin would leave his man to deal with this issue all by himself? The teeny tiny emerging 🎶Blinding Light of Love🎶 tells me "no"!

So even Johnny's annoying ass wearing BLUE does not bother me nor Akin because we have bigger issues to handle, and Johnny does not present any true barriers. In this moment, he is not the enemy.

And as mad as I am at the show for whatever story it's trying to sell me about these two,

I must admit Naru's pout is cute. Johnny still gets nothing from me though.

But back to my Green Guy with his green tea trying to convince the fans he is Judy's Boy.

He is doing a good job of selling his new ship, so much so that even Akin' friends are quick to shelter his depressed black void self from any images of Jin.

But they also talk some sense into him about how when someone is in a relationship, they go through the hard times together. They share the burden. They don't go it alone!

So although I didn't know if I could actually trust this beautiful and amazing woman who has never done anything wrong in her entire life except make my heart flutter, I did trust the process.

Because there was only the tiniest barrier between her and Jin in front of the elevator.

And, of course, that barrier ended up being Akin.

But the best thing about the elevator scene, is even with Akin being the barrier between them, they are still in this enclosed space together.

It's such a good visual because just like the bars with him and Jade throughout the episode, Akin is not in this prison alone. He has people with him even if he doesn't realize.

And Judy, with her pink = 💕love💕 lighting, proves she really is a good actress because her sly responses convince the public that it was her in the photos, not Akin.

But that woman is NOT in love with Jin. She immediately drops the act once the cameras stop rolling and the biggest barrier comes up as Jin gives her back the ring.

She just isn't a gorgeous face even though her face is truly a masterpiece.

No! She is a greatly talented actress who understands the stress of trying to maintain a private relationship as a public figure, and the barriers show us that she has no intention of coming between Jin and Akin.

So the episode ends with the color-coded text telling us that Akin guessed Jin's ring size while he slept next to him THREE MONTHS AGO.

Then to cement how much Akin loves Jin, he wrote the size down on a green sticky note with a green pen.

And when he gives Jin the ring, in that peach room, Jin is magically backed by blue.

So they are finally combining and exchanging their colors!

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 12/05

@carcinogeneticist-writes-fanfic asked: I know your policy has been to hold off listening to the official albums until you're done with HS and I totally get that, wanting to hear them in the context of the comic first is totally valid. That said, would you be willing to give early consideration to Michael Bowman's solo album, "Mobius Trip and Hadron Kaleido?" It's got the rather dubious honor of being one of only two or three official albums (out of like 30!) to NOT see any rep in the comic at all and I'd hate for you to miss out.

Found it on the Collection! It's generally a very chill album, with a lot of lower-energy tracks that might have been hard to fit in one of Homestuck's high-octane Flash animations.

It's not really my type of music, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate something different every once in a while! I think my personal favorite is Dawn of Man.

@likelyvampirical asked: While on the subject of Bowman, On The Thirteenth Day has been sent to you.

This one's fucking great. It feels like the kind of track you'd hear over the opening/ending to a Homestuck anime.

It also sounds vaguely like Sburban Jungle, but I don't know if I'd call it a remix; it feels more like it's gesturing meaningfully in Sburban Jungle's direction, which I like a lot.

@shelbybunny asked: re: voice headcanons in the (as of writing) latest ask comp; i think a good voice headcanon for John is Toby Fox’s voice in his ska cover of sunsetter or Michael Guy Bowman’s cover of How Do I Live

It's still so weird hearing Toby Fox's actual voice. He feels like the kind of guy who shouldn't have a concrete presence in our reality.

Anyway, these voices are both fairly close to how I imagine John sounding. Toby even looks somewhat like John - or, at least, his hair does.

@heattth asked: Hi, I believe you mentioned once that if Tumblr died you would continue this blog on Discord. I don't know how likely this is to happen, but, could I ask you which server that would be?

I currently run an on-and-off gaming Discord which is open to all the blog's followers. If Tumblr goes down for good, I might just convert it into the new primary liveblogging platform - although Discord has its own issues, so I'm not 100% committed to that. Guess we'll see what happens!

Edit: I ended up retiring the Discord for now, simply because it grew too large for one person to manage. I still plan to continue the liveblog if Tumblr bites the dust, but I'm completely undecided on where!

@manorinthewoods asked: I've heard the Hockerberts (Hockengberts?) called the House of J. Unsure how common that is. ~LOSS (28/4/25) @cationicflood asked: the prospit kids may also collectively be referred to as the J-squad, as all four of them have names beginning with J (this is a trait that i do not think any other character outside this group possesses)

Yeah, there's no real way to legibly combine all four names. I came up with 'Prospit Patrol' the other day, and I honestly kind of love it - but I guess that'd technically include the Prospit trolls, too.

Anonymous asked: i think the key difference between jade and jake’s social lives despite being completely isolated is that jade at least had bec and prospit. with jakes dreamself dead (which presumably never woke up) and no guardian to speak of, hes pretty much completely alone out there

Actually a very good point. We eventually learned that Jade was in contact with the White Queen, so she was doing some in-person socialization. Clearly, that mattered a lot more than I realized.

@morganwick asked: Recall that future Jade shared your frustration over causal time loops, wanting ideas to actually come from where they came from. She did manage to get Karkat to be just vague enough to get her to do what she wanted herself to do while still giving herself enough room to come up with as much of the idea as possible herself. Karkat technically didn't even tell her to captchalogue the window, only draw it, the assumption/understanding being that she'd use the scribblepad to do so.

I definitely like that interpretation a lot better than the idea that the information was spontaneously stable-looped into existence, so I'm adopting it as my personal canon. The less loop-generated intel we have, the better.

@that-good-ol-fashioned-mothgirl asked: funny how Jane “biggest fan of a baking empire” Crocker subscribes to empiricism

Clearly, an 'empire' is any organization that values tangible evidence over logical reasoning. Jane's brainwashing is clearly benign - the Condesce is just trying to make her a better skeptic!

@that-good-ol-fashioned-mothgirl asked: the green sun is the theoretically infinite felt on English’s temporal pool table

In other words, the entire multiverse is part of Lord English's game. Seems fitting to me.

@elkian asked: Something I put together recently thanks to your blogging: the more conventially intelligent/sapient a Sprite component, the better a Sprite can communicate with the Player. BUT, these are also more independent and can operate on their own impetus, proving in some cases (like Jadesprite) to be unwilling/unable to help the Player for whatever reason. It's a neat balancing mechanic.

That's actually a really good explanation for why Jadesprite was so independent.

She's not the only one who's exhibited this trait, either - Davesprite also seemed comfortable with resisting sprite programming!

@mhafanlol2000 asked: Dave spent his childhood with Cal, too, and he doesn’t seem hypnotized. What makes you so convinced that Dirk will turn out to be worshipping English, or something?

Ah, but Dave didn't actually own the doll.

Bro was the one carrying it around all day, and he can't be flash-stepping around Dave that often. For the majority of the time, he was the one receiving the lion's share of Cal's miasma, as he has been since the moment he was cloned.

Dirk is the same, of course, but he's only had Cal for sixteen years, while Bro was in his thirties, at least. Dirk seems a lot more normal than his counterpart, so we can at least assume he's less corrupted than Bro.

Anonymous asked: I'm not going to lie, the fact that the entire acts 1-5 of homestuck are ONE DAY is one of my favorite fucked up facts about this story. Like, honestly maybe more than 24 hours passed, but because we got untethered from Earth time immediately after entering and it's not like the Incipisphere has a day/night cycle, A VERY LONG MONDAY AFTERNOON INDEED

The second the camera cuts away from John and Jade, they're going to immediately pass out for a good twenty hours.

Hey, do we think Davesprite needs to sleep? Surely not, right? Alright, he can look after them, then.

@elkian asked: Just wanted to say that I'm loving the liveblog in general, and in particular I really like your take on how the Alpha timeline works. "Based on what this character would most likely do in this situation" not only frees it from some of the rigidity of predestination, which can definitely get stifling or flatten a story if taken too far; it's also a good explanation in terms of meta. It works as both a general explanation and story-themed one, and I like it a lot. Seems accurate, too!

You can thank Terry Pratchett for putting the idea in my head, back when I was first reading Night Watch. It's a really satisfying way to resolve the identity issues surrounding time travel, isn't it?

@drakethedeep asked: Keep that thought in mind regarding a timeline involving interfering with the green sun. On a similar train of thought, timelines seemed to become doomed when they can no longer contribute to the timeloop that created them to begin with. For example, in the first doomed timeline we see, because John dies, he cannot perform the ectobiology that results in the creation of him and his friends/family. so keeping that in mind, what conclusion/ theories about the alpha timeline do you have?

Initially, I thought that any timeline which could no longer satisfy its own loops would be instantly doomed - but that would have caused Davesprite's timeline to fade long before Future Dave actually left, since John's death immediately made the Veil cloning impossible.

However, the wording you use here comes close to fixing that issue. Davesprite's timeline could never fulfil the time loop created by John's Veil cloning - but it still contributed to the Alpha Timeline, via Davesprite. Maybe a timeline only fades once it can no longer contribute to the Alpha in any way whatsoever.

@wolygan asked: Kinda neat how as Sollux is dying his powers change from the red and blue to just his blood colour, as if he is casting from his health instead of just having an ability, now that his eyes are burnt out.

Oh, interesting. I didn't consider that!

Sollux has said he's retiring his duality schtick, and apparently that includes his red/blue motif. After all, he's not really 'the duality guy' anymore - he's just Sollux.

@liliflower137 asked: This is probably a little late as I'm still catching up but,,, gush, Vriska's conversation with John, where she expresses regret, where she thinks back on what she has done… It made her my favorite character for a while. Just. The potential of her learning to be different, of becoming something more than the world she was born into. Seeing a character so HORRIBLE, so AWFUL, turn around and… realize. It's so powerful.

Yup. Super fucked up that she died before she was able to complete her metamorphosis - but I'm confident that her story's not over. After all, we've already started hanging out with her ghost!

@liliflower137 asked: Hello!! I am not quite caught up yet but your description of Scratch as thinking like an author is BRILLIANT, I never would've thought of that and it makes him make so much more sense!!! Man he's way more interesting to me now, thank you!!! This liveblog continues to be the most fascinating read of all time!!

Thanks - it just made sense to me, y'know? Scratch even talks a little like Hussie sometimes, and the idea that he's a pseudo-author is the only thing I can think of that explains some otherwise extremely strange phrasing on his part.

@liliflower137 asked: Hello hello again! I've just seen the map you showed of Rose's coordinates and you can literally see the town i live in on that map!! So I can tell you Northern New York State, at least around that section, is VERY rural. The closest Starbucks is in Canada and its mostly dairy farms and cornfields around here! New York is a big state and aside from the city itself and some other places it's actually surprisingly empty. Hell, I've lived here for like 9 years and I've never even been close to NYC! But its definitely not remote, people live and work in that national park nearby! And there's plenty of burger kings for sure. (I'd even say maybe the one 40 minutes away was the one in my town but I'm pretty sure it opened after I moved here so probably not) It's so wild I could pretty easily drive to where Rose's house would've been… crazy.

Oh, fun - it's like you're her neighbor!

If you're that local, you might be living closer to Rose's address than any other Homestuck fan on the planet. You've got to be at least in the top ten, right?

@liliflower137 asked: Another addition to the jade seer of light fakeout that I've noticed during my own reread (inspired by yours!) Remember Jade's wardrobifier? One of her possible shirt symbols was the symbol for the Light Aspect!

Hussie's Trick continues to bamboozle the unprepared.

@liliflower137 asked: After sending you a bunch of asks while reading, I'm finally caught up!! Whew I can finally stop accidentally staying up until like 5am reading your incredible analysis and being distracted at work! I'm free!! Thanks for the ride!!

Hah, this really is a serious compliment. Don't worry, I've been staying up till pretty close to 5 lately as well. That's what happens when you're gaming on a server in a US timezone!

Anonymous asked: hello ms wertsearch! i have just finished binging your entire liveblog in lieu of any meaningful way to access homestuck OR the unofficial homestuck collection (kind of a lie - i'm sure it's on the wayback machine) and i have to say you might just be the ideal homestuck reader! you analyze these characters AND this story so quickly and perfectly it is very awesome to read. i cannot wait for you to stick it out through the rest of act 6! have a wonderful day!!!

Thank you so much! As far as I'm aware, there are still a couple of unofficial mirrors of the comic floating around online. I asked around on the Discord and was provided with this link, which seems perfectly functional to me.

Anonymous asked: I just want to send a message to let you know how much I appreciate and enjoy your blog. Ive had a very rough couple of years (who hasn't, right?) and reading this blog has been such an escape. It makes me feel like I'm 13 again and reading homestuck on the school computer with my friends. You have such insightful things to say about the comic. I never really jelled with the homestuck fandom outside of my irl friends I read the comic with, so your blog is kind of like a second shot at participating in the fandom for me. I'm having so much fun. Thanks for doing this. <3

As always, messages like these are the greatest motivator I have for continuing to liveblog. I know I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but thank you for sharing! :)

Anonymous asked: Your liveblog is So fun to read, especially when you predict plot points that are either extremely true or extremely false (like when you theorised at the very beginning that jade was genetically modified to be a sburb player! Or when [spoiler] and also [spoiler] and especially [spoiler]) Are you planning to read through your own liveblog when you've finished reading the comments to see how many things you jokingly predicted that came true? Or are you relying on asks to point out things like that?

I'm definitely reading through it when I'm done! I've even half-jokinly considered liveblogging the liveblog, but that might be a bridge too far even for me, lmao

@manorinthewoods asked: I've found another HS liveblog! 'researchhpurposes'. They've not made it through Act 5 yet, so hopefully they're spoiler-free - although, like you, they're going in only mostly blind, so there might be a stray thing here or there. Going to read through and see if there's anything extraordinary. ~LOSS (29/4/25)

(I'm noticing they *do* engage with reblogs, so without reading the whole thing, I'd say there's probably *some* spoilers. -V)

I can't wait to take a gander at some other liveblogs - but, yes, strangely enough, some of them can still spoil the comic, even if they're even farther back than I am!

@mrjocrafter asked: Once Upon a Time, a serialized live action soap opera / fantasy show with a batshit convoluted plot on par with Homestuck (i highly recommend it) has this concept called The Author, who's an individual blessed/cursed with the power to rewrite reality by literally writing in book(s), but if this power is suppressed, overpowered, or lost, the wielder is just some guy with a pen/quill. This is how I like to think of character!Hussie in Homestuck.

I've actually been watching a Once Upon a Time retrospective series on YouTube, and it's been an enjoyable watch so far. I even checked out the first couple of seasons myself - and, yes, batshit is exactly how I'd describe the average day in Storybrooke. Why the fuck wasn't it in Kingdom Hearts?

Anonymous asked: Yo so i was just rewatching Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency and i was thinking since you like homestuck you should watch that if you haven't seen it already. Similar vibes. It's super excellent, it stars Elijah Wood. It did get cancelled after season 2 which sucks but each season is its own story with its own resolution. The stuff they were setting up for season 3 looked so dope tho, it's so tragic i'll never get to see it. It's the only thing that gives me the same feeling as homestuck. I don't want to like, say what it's about cuz like homestuck i think it's best to just jump in blind. If you have already seen it i'd love to hear your thoughts.

I haven't seen it myself, but I know the book it's based off. Dirk Gently shares an author with one of my favourite series, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, so I feel like the show is probably up my alley too. Will definitely add it to the list!

Anonymous asked: Community is a sitcom about a study group at a community college. I recommend it, it's got a wit to it that I think you'd like.

I've seen a couple of clips of Community, but it didn't really click with me. That said, it's hard to judge the overall quality of a show from just a handful of clips, so I may give it another chance.

@manorinthewoods asked: There's a further benefit to the three-year time skip; it'll bring the characters roughly in line with the IRL time movement. April 2009 -> November 2011 is five months off the three-year timespan - which is sensible, since you need that time to actually write the story. Five months is. Probably a reasonable expectation, from the outset, for how long it might take to progress to the end of the timeskip - but, of course, this is a webcomic, and webcomics are very well known for taking absolutely ages to write. ~LOSS (29/4/25)

If that's true, and Hussie is timing things so that the kids emerge in November, then they're kind of playing with fire here.

I mean, committing yourself to maintain a consistent posting schedule for five months? Couldn't be me, is all I'm saying.

[powderpuff-divines]

pick a pile: what will kickstart your glow-up?

what's going to end up leading to or causing your glow up? pick a pile to find out! comments or tags letting me know if it resonated will be so so so appreciated <3 and there's definitely going to be typos or errors since i didn't proofread so ignore them like always xx

pile 1 ☆。*。☆。

queen on wands, three of swords, five of pentacles rev, the fool, ten of wands, temperance, hermit rev, eight of pentacles, seven of cups

i'm really getting eldest daughter energy from this pile, or even if you don't have any siblings i feel like you've had to bear a lot of responsibility for managing the moods and emotions of other people (likely to be friends of family members.) your next glow-up is all about emancipation. it must have been hard for you pile 1s. i think you've been carrying this burden for so long that it doesn't even make you angry or sad on most days. you just feel numb. keyword being most days. i think you might have breakdowns once it all gets too much.

i'm going to be honest here, the glow up here is most likely kickstarted by another meltdown. you know one of those meltdowns where you're just laughing because you're just so fucking done? i think you're going to be pushed so far that you'll just snap and reach a level of apathy for the people who've been dragging you down. this could be toxic parents or a friend circle whose environment has been always toxic but it was initially a relationship borne out of love which is why you've held onto it for so long, just like you held onto the now few and far in between good memories to remind yourself why it was worth fighting for.

i see some of you laughing maniacally, scoffing and then just leaving the situation or the the people to deal with each other. you're leaving to nurture yourself pile 1. the unhinged energy is so strong here. i feel like you'd make fire jokes about your situation while talking about it to your friends (or at least you feel like they're funny but your friends are just seriously concerned.)

there is going to be heartbreak over the fact that these people won't change. it's not the first time you've realized this pile one. this is something you've had to realize a million little times along the way until it finally hits and stays. but it is this hurt that propels you to change things. you cannot bear to stay in this murky situation anymore. you don't like how in its worst moments it has pushed you to do things and say things that you would never otherwise do. perhaps you've snapped at unrelated people who were only looking out for you.

the point here is that you've had enough. some of you might want revenge too because your heart is so full of spite. i think you very abruptly ghost these people who were in a way leeching off you. you're rethinking your beliefs and dreams. i'm seeing an image of a person pulling out a very old metal box and opening it on their bedroom floor. and it's full of posters, or pictures and things they used to want. you're unburying your dreams pile one.

i think for a lot of you, your glow up is going to come from reprogramming your limited beliefs about life and particularly money. you're going to force yourself out of isolation and stop waiting for things to be perfect. you're going to start doing the work you need to do to get perfect while still being imperfect and that's honestly so huge for you. it's going to be hard at first, but the wins will add up over time. soon, you can see all the wonderful possibilities for your life within your reach and know that you're capable of making it happen for yourself. and in the beginning, even if it's mostly of spite over courage, you're going to walk towards your dreams with wobbly footsteps, gritted teeth and the glare of a harsh sun on your skin. some of you are going to throw yourself into your career to avoid thinking about your pain. and while this is unhealthy in the long run, for now it works and will build a future where you can breathe in peace.

more readings | tip jar

pile 2 ☆。*。☆。

two of pentacles, five of swords, eight of cups, ten of pentacles, hierophant, magician

for some of you, your glow-up is leaving your deadbeat husband/partner 💀 you guys could have been the sole breadwinner when you didn't want to be but your partner refused to help you out. but even if it isn't a relationship, your glow-up starts after you leave something. this could be a job at some company that you really don't like but on some days it's more bearable so you hesitate to leave. (disclaimer: you know your situation the best, please think everything through and do not make decisions rashly just because of a tarot reading on the internet. do what's best for you.)

that being said, i feel like most of you aren't confident in your ability to make the best decision for yourself. you guys could be the type to ask for signs but then when the signs appear you could still be unsure and ask for more signs. ("wait, i asked to for a green x to appear, but instead it was blue. so it doesn't count. let me ask again.") you need to be okay with making the wrong decision and end up losing out on something as a consequence of that decision. ironically, that's what will lead you to making the right decisions for yourself.

i need you to realize that just because you're staying in a place of inaction and postponing your decision does not mean you're not making one. you're still making a choice to change nothing. one by one, so many little "inconveniences" creeped into your life, which is honestly a really roundabout way of saying people could be pushing their responsibilities onto you and ignoring your boundaries. and you could really hate yourself for letting it happen and consider yourself a pushover. maybe you even speak in a very roundabout and polite way everyday just to avoid conflict and it's getting so exhausting.

i'm seeing one final cruel act, one final unkind sentence, one final mocking smile which ends up being the straw that breaks the camel's back. i honestly think something that seems so unfair in the moment might happen to you. eg: you get fired from your job or you find out your partner has been cheating on you and it forces you to leave. and i'm so sorry if that happens pile 2 but it will turn out to be for the better. (i know, i know. it's so easy for me to say that but don't shoot the messenger here please.) because if that hadn't happened, you would have been stuck in that situation for likely a much longer time.

the vibe of this pile is honestly reminding me of those movies where the main character in a big city loses their soul-sucking corporate job, goes back to their hometown, hates it initially/is ashamed of "failing" but rediscovers what truly matters. i'm not saying that is literally what's going to happen but that's just the vibe i'm geting. i'm also hearing bad bunny's dtmf in my head.

(Debí tirar más fotos de cuando te tuve

Debí darte más beso' y abrazo' las vece' que pude.)

(I should have taken more photos of when I had you.

I should've given you more kisses and hugs whenever I could.)

i think what all this is leading upto is the rediscovery of joy of community and family, how burdens are easier to carry when someone's making you laugh about the tiniest things even when everything seems bleak, about how when you can't even get out of bed there's someone who will cook you lunch and nurse you to better health. there has been love waiting outside your window all this time while you've been searching for it inside of a desolate mansion. it may not be perfect and it may be louder than you'd like it to be sometimes, but it would fight and die for you, even if you've forgotten about it. you are loved and wanted. and somewhere, at some point, there's going to be love that's been waiting for you to run back into its arms and has never stopped loving you.

some of you could not have the smoothest experience with these people, for example if it's family, their love could have come with a bunch of rules you needed to follow. you felt like you were never allowed to be your true self, and even then, you could have doubted whether you could be loved and accepted for it. you could have dreamt of wings and flying far away from this place and maybe that's why returning here would be so soul-crushing. i do not mean to invalidate your feelings or experiences, so if this doesn't apply to you ignore it, but this could really be an eye-opening experience where you're met with more warmth and understanding than you'd expect. inconvenience is often the price of community but i think being surrounded by this community is what you need to deal with the grief of losing a version of yourself.

p.s: to leave or to have something not work out is not a sign of a personal failing. you aren't meant to stay forever in every room you walk into.

more readings | tip jar

pile 3 ☆。*。☆。

four of wands, four of swords rev, king of pentacles, king of swords, high priestess, the chariot, the devil, ace of pentacles

omgg, love is in the air for this pile. what's going to kickstart a glow up for yall is reaching the next phase of your relationship with your person of interest. so finally becoming each other's boyfriend/girlfriend/ partner or maybe even getting a proposal. the latter is less likely though and is because i also smell a love triangle in the air.

this is the only pile where i used a second deck to pull clarifying cards and used a deck i associate romance with and the energy here is so fun.

i'm going to be real with you pile 3s, some of you have been burned in matters of love before and i think you've already had a bit of a glow-up or at least gone through some healing. and i see at least two people flocking towards you and trying to get your interest. i do not think you'll be in a hurry to commit- you'll enjoy what they each have to offer (and im not saying you're cheating on anybody, this is just like going on dates while you're still single). and while on the outside you look so confident and so charming, on the inside there's still anxiety and insecurity. there could also be issues with trust- you could worry that while these potential partners are fun to be with, they might be turned off by what your true self is and lose interest. because of that you'll try to avoid opening up and even try stonewalling a bit but this just backfires because now they want to get to know you even more.

you could be very insistent on being financially independent( as you should be!! proud of you <3) and taking care of yourself. but one of your suitors could genuinely enjoy spoiling you and isn't stingy with their resources. now while this isn't going to make you dependent on them all of a sudden, this does heal something in you/makes you realize you were worthy of being cared for in this way all along.

even before actually getting into relationship, you're going to be having so much fun here man. i'm seeing some really good, simulating and enriching conversations. you're going to enjoy yourself so much pile 3. you'll feel so good in your body and identity, and it feels good to be desired.

gonna be honest, there's some fun sex here on the cards too so please use protection if you don't want any unwanted surprises lol.

whatever's happening in your love life is really energizing you and motivating you to take the next step in something, say starting your own business for example. if something does come out of your time with these suitors, you'll be grateful for it but even if it doesn't, you'll be fine. you've become so confident in your sense of self that not much can shake it. you enjoy your own company and being left to soak in it is a treat, not a punishment. after enjoying and resting for a while, you'll feel ready to move onto enriching your life on a even more deeper level. but most likely, you'll be doing this with a loving partner by your side who'll want nothing more than to build a life where the two of you will be happy and content. and this will be something you can draw strength from when life gets challenging.

more readings | tip jar

i'm going to be honest, this was supposed to be a your next glow up reading but the cards hijacked the reading 💀 lmk if you guys still want a separate glow-up pac and i'll try to make it in the future!!

[nemisuki]

You Finally Noticed

Synopsis || A girl and the events leading up to her falling for her grumpy classmate. Only this time, she gains the courage to confess the secret she’s kept all these years.. on Valentine's day!?

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, fluff, no smut or angst, physical touch & words of affirmation, mini flashbacks, crush au, confessions, first kisses, mutual feelings, starts as first years + ends as seniors, mainly reader pov but bkgs at the end, long fluffy oneshot, GREEN FLAG BKG, happy ending, he’s just a lil guy, 3.7k word count

The idea of falling in love was something she had always hoped for.

As depicted in the movies, the beauty of finding your forever partner – one who will unconditionally care for you till the end of time –  is simply one of the greatest gifts you can achieve while walking on this earth.

She just didn't expect to find him so soon.

You would assume the girl would fall for the other candidates in her class. All of them showing qualities to be perfect for whoever they choose to spend their future with.

Though she loved them all, it wasn't the type that made y/n have butterflies in her stomach – one that made her rethink every interaction they've ever had – it wasn't how she felt like with him.

She wasn't aware of when this all began.

At first it was the adrenaline, the thrill of being acknowledged by the notorious blonde, her overpowered classmate who spouted harsh words to anyone in the beginning of their first year.

Many months have passed and yet she could never forget their first normal interaction.... well as normal as it can get.

During the UA sports festival – more specifically the team choosing for the cavalry battle – she approached him just like everyone else.

Internally hoping she could be on his team, secretly admiring his strive for victory, though still intimidated by his frightening exterior.

"Wait, remind me what your quirks are again... and your names!"

Everyone stares dumbfounded but nonetheless go one by one to reintroduce themselves.

When it's her turn, she hesitantly meets his gaze – his eyes so intense and calculating that it alarms her – but she holds it, not wanting to look weak in front of him.

"um im y/n l/n and my quirk is... [ur choice!]"

She goes to further explain the abilities in her arsenal and why it'll benefit him in battle, though there's a small part of her that wants to look elsewhere, his red orbs are just so... expressive.

He stays silent for a moment, analyzing the different options he could choose from, then finally makes his decision.

"Alright.... you, you and you."

The blonde states, pointing towards his three picks, and the shock on her face is evident as she miraculously gets selected.

He ignores the others' whines and begins walking to an isolated corner without another word, her legs quickly moving to follow him a second later.

The boy seems to take notice and turns around, shouting at the other two, who are standing there obviously relishing in the glory, "Follow me like her, you idiots!"

The duo quickly rushes to catch up as you both keep walking.

Bakugo simply rolls his eyes at the comical scene, sneaking a peek in her direction, making y/n tense up at the realization of their temporary time alone.

Her heart rapidly accelerates at the possibility of being the target of his anger.

"And don't be too excited nerd, I almost didn't pick you."

The swirling thoughts in her mind only multiply at his blunt tone, her curiosity getting the better of her as she hesitantly replies, unsure if she'd even want to hear his answer.

"May I ask why?"

"You're not confident I can tell."

She takes notice of his blank expression, contradicting the harsh tone of his words, her eyes slightly widening as he continues on.

How did he-

"You're never gonna make it to be a pro if you're not confident in your own abilities."

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ 

As she's unable to come up with a response, he simply sighs with annoyance, watching the other two steadily approach, "Just don't hold me back, got it? Your quirk is useful to me so use it."

"uh- got it!"

Regardless of the stern warning and glare, the awe in her eyes returns with full force. Although this is their first time communicating one on one, he already read her like a book.

Bakugo truly is a force to be reckoned with.

Instead of taking it in a malicious light, a small smile appears on her face at his words : 'Your quirk is useful'

It's the first time anyone has ever said that to her, and she'd be lying if she said it didn't make her feel good.

That means he's relying on her right?

A determined look slowly emerges as she nods along, listening intently as the blonde goes over their battle strategy, they can win this!

Looking back at that moment, it was probably then when her eyes slowly started drifting to him unconsciously, the days going on as her interest in him slowly rose.

Their first year went by in a flash – the chaotic events making time speed up for a second – making their moments as second years all the more precious.

The two weren't super close at first by any means, but after everything... his anger seemed to mellow out, though he was still the same prickly blonde everyone knew and loved.

It was when life unexpectedly kept bringing them together that they slowly found reasons to make small conversations.

The vibration of footsteps beneath her shoes causes her to look over her shoulder, her gaze zeroing in on the blonde – who seems to be on the verge of an explosion – as he walks down the aisle of the crowded bus.

Which was provided by UA for their annual school trip.

"Cmon bakubro! Where are you going?!"

"Fuck off shitty hair!"

"We aren't being THAT loud-"

"Shut it! I'm changing my damn seat!"

He grumbles curses under his breath as he heads to the front of the bus, looking around for an empty seat, the only available one being next to herself but currently occupied by her book bag.

Their gazes meet for a moment, and she seems to understand, quickly reaching over to pull her bag off and plopping it on the floor underneath her.

He slowly approaches and sits down beside her, mumbling an explanation to the girl as he takes out his earbuds.

"Too damn noisy in the back."

A small smile appears on her face as she nods along, understanding his troubles. I mean she was sitting at the front for the same reason as well.

"They're just excited for the overnight trip at the cabins."

"Tch, acting like damn idiots more like it."

He proceeds to take out his phone, scrolling down his Spotify to click on a certain album to listen to.

She didn't mean to look, she really didn't, but her eyes caught the recognizable design of the cover.

Her eyes doing a double take to make sure she wasn't going insane, small sparks of excitement making her attempt a conversation with her new seat partner.

"You listen to them as well Bakugo?!"

His body tenses just barely as he turns his head to her, opening his mouth to speak, but she quickly shakes her hands dismissively.

"I wasn't peeking at your phone I promise! I just saw the cover from the corner of my eye and it looked familiar so..."

A wave of embarrassment shines over her and she shuts herself up, internally cringing at her attempts for small talk, looking away from him with warm cheeks.

It was only after a moment of silence, when he quietly mumbles, "It's a good album but nothing beats the first one."

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ 

She slowly looks back at him, meeting his eyes once more – feeling as if he's analyzing every minor movement of hers – though he looks oddly calm now.

"Ah that's my favorite one too, I really like the drum solo in the first song!"

"That so..."

"Mhm!"

Noticing his half lidded eyes, she cuts it short to leave him alone for now, letting the blonde rest for the remaining amount of time.

Though an hour later, life seems to throw another curve ball at the poor girl.

At a small speed bump, she suddenly feels a weight on her shoulder, her heart dangerously halting at the foreign feeling.

She looks to her side – taking in the odd sight of his head resting against her – the usual frown now replaced with a peaceful expression.

The scent of his cologne slowly invades her nostrils, making her more bashful at the turn of events, her heartbeat now a bit irregular as she sits completely still to not wake him up.

Her eyes move on their own as she takes a peek at his face, noticing the delicate features that make up his perfect facial structure, her hand itching to caress the smooth ivory skin.

What's with her?

Her mind goes on auto pilot to come up with an explanation for her intrusive thoughts yet the conclusion is always the same.

So for the rest of the bus drive there, the only thing taking up her mind is the inevitable realization, she likes him.... y/n likes bakugo.

The remaining months of the year went by in a flash – with the girl keeping this secret to herself – unable to fathom the hold her classmate has over her heart.

The worst part is he didn't even know it.

He didn't know how pretty he was when focusing on an assignment.

He was unaware at how flattering the uniform made him stand out – despite it being what everyone else wears – he simply wore it better.

His attractiveness when working out during training sessions needed to be studied, because who else could make a push up look that appealing?

Even worse if he did it with one hand, she can only hope he didn't catch her tripping over her own two feet, just because his exercises got her all distracted.

But most of all, the worst part was how oblivious he is – to how much she disliked the newfound attention on him.

It was the last Valentine's Day they'll celebrate at UA. Their senior year to be more specific.

The months quickly pass by as if it urges them to head off to the real world of hero agencies and internships awaiting them.

Yet the only thing that was on her mind, was the impending time limit she put on herself.

Her last chance to confess her feelings.

Only problem is his popularity, frankly speaking... she expected this, his status seemed to only increase after their first year.

Last time his locker was filled with a stash of love letters and written confessions.

And this year... seems like it only got worse.

"You've gotta be kidding me..."

The blonde groans with pure annoyance as he opens his locker, piles of envelopes falling down on the floor as he runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

"Damn bakubro, lucky you! Seems like the ladies like you~"

Kirishima playfully whistles at him, earning a glare from his grumpy friend.

"Tch, I don't know any of these extras in the damn first place! Help me pick this shit up!"

"Pfft okay okay! One sec!" 

She watches from afar as he opens a trash bag – clearly more prepared than last year – putting all the letters inside one by one with an irritated sigh.

Her heart clenches at the sight, seems his admirers have only increased as they've grown up, causing her thoughts to scramble with hesitation.

The aching sensation in her chest being more noticeable to y/n as some girls approach the blonde, chocolates in their hand as they blush when he turns to face them.

She didn't have the guts to watch any longer, spinning on her heels to walk back to the dorms, clutching the red gift bag in her hand – reminding herself to not freak out – the days not over yet.

Her eyes stare at the ticking clock above her dresser.

The palm of her hand grows a bit clammy as she reapplies her chapstick, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves.

She has to do this.

Before she can chicken out, her legs quickly rush out of her dorm, wandering up a floor to reach the end of the hall.

And standing before her is none other than his room – it's almost midnight – she doesn't even know if he's awake at this point but she's stalled long enough.

With a shaky hand, she gently knocks on the door, frankly a bit nervous one of their classmates will spot her red handed.

Though much to her shock, it doesn't even take him more than 15 seconds to open the door – his face surprisingly wide awake – calmly staring down at her.

But she could've sworn the previous tension in his shoulders relaxed as soon as their gazes met.

Or maybe that was hope clouding her judgement.

"y/n..."

The conversation hasn't even started yet and she can already feel the intense warmth on her cheeks. Her eyes darted away for a moment to recollect herself.

"sorry i know it's late but it's important-"

"come inside."

"huh-"

She didn't have the time to process his words, not when his hand reached out to her waist, gently maneuvering her inside the room to shut the door behind her.

The close proximity only gives her the ability to hear the fastening heart rate within her. So loud in fact, that she begins to wonder if he can hear it too.

His hand doesn't move away from her hip, as if leaving a mark on her that she'll no doubt remember many years from now.

And she doesn't pull away either – wondering how she's lived up to this moment without feeling his intimate touch – but also questioning the purpose of his actions.

If it was to make her flustered... he sure as hell achieved it.

His eyes glance down at the red gift bag in her hands – white tissue paper concealing its contents – then looks back to her face.

"this is..."

Her grip on the bag slightly tightens, attempting to hide the anxious bundle of nerves as she stares back at him.

The blonde tilts his head, suddenly using his other hand to grab the gift, almost expectantly as he quietly mumbles, "for me yeah?"

The eye contact was beyond excruciating.

"um yes but... open it later please."

He slowly nods and places it on a nearby table, but her mind is fixated on the fact that he hasn't let go yet.

His touch was gentle yet so so warm.

"You didn't write a card."

Huh?

"-i looked through the pile of junk... and not one of those letters we're from you."

Her eyes slightly widened with disbelief at his words, the image of him checking every single one of those envelopes, made everything clear to her.

She tries her best – but the hidden meaning behind his words was too much – the realization making her break down, previous anxiety being replaced with pure relief and joy.

A glossy coat of tears begins to form at the silent confirmation she so desperately needed to hear.

His empty hand lifting up to cradle her cheek, a little hesitant, as if scared his touch will be too rough.

She immediately denies such thoughts, leaning more into his palm for comfort.

Those red irises soften at her vulnerable state, his thumb wiping away any stray droplets that trickle down her face as he softly whispers.

"Don't you remember what I said before, idiot? Be confident."

The moonlight peeking through the glass panels of the window only adds to the cozy atmosphere – illuminating everything in its path – including them, giving him a glow that was definitely not needed.

It was as if she was in a dream.

"I like you."

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ 

Time seemed to slow down as the confession exited her mouth, finally letting out the secret she's been keeping to herself all these years.

Y/N could've sworn she already felt the weight being lifted off her shoulders.

At his silence, she takes it as a green light to continue, the only reaction from him being a twitch of a smug smile.

"I-I liked you before anyone else did, before you got popular! And I think I understand you pretty well! Like um... I know you're an excellent cook who specializes in spicy food, you hate winter because it makes your quirk act up, secretly enjoy petting kittens-"

"Oi, alright alright I get it! You're starting to sound like the damn nerd."

Although his words were rough, the pink hue on his cheeks was unmistakably there, barely visible but definitely present.

He slowly leans down, his lips hovering over her own as he whispers, "you sure took your time."

Her breath hitches and it takes everything in her to not lean in closer – she felt like a moth being lured into the flame – that is him, "you already knew?"

The blonde scoffs with fake annoyance, almost like he's offended at her clueless nature, "doesn't take a genius when you're always staring."

"oh..."

It felt as if she was on fire, the warmth in her heart now spreading to every inch of her body, heating up places she didn't know was possible.

His gaze bores into hers before slowly traveling down to her lips, his thumb moving to trace the outline of her mouth as he speaks.

"Can I kiss you now? Or you're gonna make me wait another 3 years, nerd?"

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ 

A small laugh escapes her at his grumpy attitude, smiling brightly as she nods, not quite believing this is real and needing some sort of confirmation, "Only if you'll be my valentine-"

She's unable to finish her question before his lips are on hers, with a sense of longing and affection, a perfect mix that makes her eyes flutter close at the feeling.

Time seemed to pause as they lost themselves in the loving exchange, not wanting to let the other go as their hearts finally conjoined to one.

You would expect someone with his personality to match his actions, but anyone would be wrong.

Bakugo is unbelievably gentle.

He slowly pulls away, giving her bottom lip a teasing nip as he mumbles, "I prefer boyfriend, dumbass."

In a spur of a moment with minimal effort, he lifts her up from where she stood, proceeding to carry her over to his bed and gently setting her down.

Not once does the smile leave her face – relishing in the change of their newfound relationship – she hasn't been this happy in weeks.

".....thanks or whatever."

"hm? for what?"

"for loving me."

Her eyes soften as he lays down beside her, draping the covers over the two as she hums, "don't thank me.... you're easy to fall in love with."

She shimmies over to wrap her arms around him, influencing him to do the same – caging her in as he hides the cheesy expression – burying his face in the crook of the neck.

Their bodies cling to each other like magnets, refusing to break apart.

"I love you too."

"awww i didn't know you were a sap-"

"shuddup."

It was a peaceful silence – one where no more words needed to be exchanged – though she still had one lingering question in her mind, one that needed answers.

"hey bakugo-"

"katsuki."

A small giggle escapes her as his correction, she nods and scoots closer, if even possible.

"Katsuki, I still have a question."

His first name on her tongue makes it more official to her, reminding herself that this is in fact... not a dream.

"yeah?"

"when did you find out... that I liked you?"

She can see the way he lifts his head up, staring to the side as he ponders, his mind going back in time for the answer.

When he remembers, a smug grin goes on his face as he reaches an arm to the bedside table, grabbing his phone and opening it up to look through his gallery.

"On a school trip during our second year, shitty hair showed me this photo when we were unpacking at the cabins."

"huh- what photo?"

He turns his phone in her direction and there in all its glory... is a photo of her and bakugo.

The old memory of him falling asleep on y/n's shoulder, and her admiring gaze on him – with a soft smile she didn't even realize she was doing – as the sunlight hits both of them perfectly.

Kirishima must've somehow snagged a photo before she could notice!

"you've known for that long?" y/n whines, completely embarrassed as she recounts all the times she admired him from afar, thinking he wasn't aware but now clearly being proven wrong.

A genuine laugh erupted from his mouth, as he clicks some buttons and to her horror, makes it his lock screen.

"oh god, please no!"

She tries reaching for it but his fast reflexes catch on, casually throwing his phone far from her reach and squeezing the daylights out of her.

"shush it and go to bed now, nerd."

A small pout forms on her face but slowly fades away as he pecks her forehead, mumbling snarky teases at how 'down bad' she is for him.

But what he doesn't tell her is how much he's noticed her too, without her knowledge.

The blonde stays silent on the fact that during the sports festival, he chose her NOT because of her quirk but because he couldn't ignore the look of awe in her eyes.

It was the first time any girl saw him in such a way.

He doesn't tell her how he learned that drum solo she mentioned on that exact bus ride – once he'll muster up the courage to play for her tomorrow – hoping his nerves won't cause a mistake or two.

A secret bouquet of flowers and a gift bag was hidden behind the door, placed there by accident when he saw her through the peephole earlier.

If she didn't show in the next 30 seconds, she would've been met with the sight of him outside her dorm. Suppose he'll give them to her in the morning, not wanting to leave the comfort of her arms just yet.

And Bakugo hopes she'll forget about his earlier slip up of mentioning how he looked at every single valentine card he got.. in hopes to find hers. Remembering how he scolded Kirishima to look through the pile another time just in case he missed it.

Alas, he can finally drift off to sleep... knowing he'll never have to stay up past his bedtime for another valentines day again, waiting for a specific someone to show.

Because she'll be beside him, just like right now.

A random thought crosses his mind and he chuckles, causing her to look up at him with a curious expression, broken out of her little daydream before bed.

"What's so funny?"

Saving her the embarrassment, he simply shakes his head and pushes her head back down to his chest, "nothing just sleep would ya? It's late."

"...okay, night katsuki."

"yeah night."

His hand caresses the back of her head, feeling the soft sensation of her hair beneath his fingers, and smiling to himself at his previous thought.

She put on cherry chapstick huh... knowing it's his favorite fruit.

Who's the dork now?

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

a/n ||| happy valentines day everyone! spread the love all around whether it be family, friends or your lover – and if you don't have anyone then just LOVE YOURSELF today! buy a coffee, go out on a solo date, do whatever ur heart desires bc u deserve it for just waking up! to all my followers, anyone who comments, those who like and repost my work... i love u all from the bottom of my heart! remember that u matter, u are loved, u are seen ❤️ *mwah* tags ||| @leleyro @zaiban2989 ໒꒰ྀི ´๑  ̫๑`  ꒱ྀིა

[milk-is-stable]

The Shoot From the Hip Hunger Games Day 1 - Remainder

The Reaping || Tribute Interviews || Day 1 - The Bloodbath

Content Warning: descriptions of violence, blood/injury, suicide and major character death

The Capitol anthem plays as the camera pans over the forested arena. Four cannon blasts echo through the arena, one for each of the four tributes who died in the initial Bloodbath. The cornucopia now stands empty, but there is still plenty of action to follow on the first day of the games. 

The TV frame splits into a multi-view screen showing a handful of the tributes as they prepare for the trials ahead. 

Sally and Chip, both tributes from District 12, have found one another in the forest and are working together to gather supplies. Meanwhile, Priscilla from District 7 and Inga from District 9 have also brokered a truce: Inga is helping boost Priscilla up a tree so she can gather fruit. Jimmy from District 8 has run into Jasper from District 4, and when they realize that neither of them have much in the way of tools or resources, they begin traveling through the woods together.

Other tributes begin the day alone. Janae (District 3) has found an isolated spot in the forest and is using a rock to file a fallen tree branch into a sharp point, and Janusz appears to have gotten lost in his attempt to follow Alexa, his fellow tribute from District 1, and is now wandering aimlessly through the trees. 

Julian (District 4) is still running, finally stopping when he finds a large rock outcropping to duck behind. He draws his legs close to himself, attempting to become as small as possible, and his breath comes in short, panicked gasps. 

Not all the tributes are content to merely gather resources. The camera cuts to a shot of Robin (District 8), who is running through the forest with his weapon out. It zooms out, revealing that he is chasing two tributes, Benjamin from District 6 and Johnny from District 3. As he closes the distance between them, he swings his mace and the blow catches Johnny on the shoulder. Johnny cries out, falling to the ground, but he rolls over and kicks at Robin’s legs as the smaller boy approaches. Robin stumbles, and Johnny gets back to his feet and staggers away. 

Benjamin is still running in the other direction, and as Robin gets back up he looks between his two targets for a moment, trying to decide which way to go. He turns towards Johnny, but before he can begin his pursuit anew, an arrow whizzes past him out of nowhere, embedding itself in a tree mere inches from where he was standing. Making a split second decision, Robin turns and runs after Benjamin instead, leaving Johnny to his injury. 

“Who’s there?” Johnny calls out, and Priscilla emerges from the trees, her bow in her hand. 

“You’re the one who has those future dreams,” she says, and Johnny nods. 

“Priscilla, what are you doing?” Inga asks, stepping into view after her, and Priscilla points at Johnny with the tip of her bow. 

“He can see the future. I think we should team up with him.”

“Sometimes I can see it,” Johnny adds, wringing his hands. “I mean, the dreams don’t always happen exactly like I see them–”

“But sometimes they do?” Priscilla asks, and Johnny nods again. 

“That does sound like a power I would want on my side,” Inga says. “Truce?” 

“...okay. Truce,” Johnny agrees, and the three of them shake hands. 

The camera view cuts back to split screen, showing four perspectives at once, though you cannot hear what is being said in any of the feeds. In the first shot, you see Caesar (District 2) approaching Jimmy and Jasper in the woods. They startle at first, but Caesar’s hands are out in an appealing gesture, and the three seem to be negotiating an alliance. 

The second feed shows Michael (District 7) receiving a parachute from a sponsor. He opens the package to reveal a small photograph of himself with a short blond man and a tall brunette woman standing behind him, their hands on his shoulders. He closes his eyes, and clutches the photograph to his chest for a moment before sliding it into his pocket and continuing through the forest. 

In the third feed, you can see Pinocchio (District 11)  crouching low in the bushes, watching Jimmy, Jasper, and Caesar intently. He watches as they divvy up the supplies that Caesar brought from the cornucopia, then he slips away. Looking around the woods, he goes up to a tree with a growth of vines snaking their way around the trunk. He reaches for the vines, but immediately winces and pulls back. A bright red drop of blood has appeared on his palm, and the camera zooms in to reveal that the vines are artificially enhanced to have long, barbed thorns that are hidden just beneath the leaves. Pinocchio looks back towards where the new alliance is gathered, then he takes a deep breath and starts carefully pulling the vines down from the tree. 

The fourth feed shows Marty (District 10) and Clarissa (District 6) fighting with one another. Neither of them have weapons, and Clarissa’s supply pack is torn open on the ground beside them. For a moment it looks like Marty has the upper hand, but he suddenly breaks out into a coughing fit, and Clarissa takes advantage of it to deliver a blow to his stomach that sends him sprawling to the ground. She rushes to gather her supplies, which includes a small, serrated blade. She looks back down at Marty for a moment, then shakes her head to herself and dashes away, leaving him hurt but alive. 

The camera cuts back to a fullscreen view and shows Hugh (District 9), who is walking through the trees with an armful of edible plants. The feed cuts to an aerial shot that shows Alexa approaching him from the south, and Peter (District 10) approaching from the east. Cutting back to Hugh, you see the moment that Alexa comes into his line of sight. He stops abruptly, his eyes trained on the axe in her hands, but she quickly shakes her head. 

“I’m not here to hurt you,” she says, holding out a hand. “I wanted to ask…you know so much about plants and the forest…would you be willing to team up with me? So many of the others are bigger and stronger than we are...I think we would have a better chance if we worked together.” 

Hugh immediately shakes his head, stepping back. 

“I don’t…no, I’m sorry, but no. I’ll stay on my own, thanks.” 

Hugh retreats into the forest, and the camera stays on Alexa as she watches him go.  Suddenly she freezes, turning her head towards a sound. She squints, and the camera view pulls in close to her so that you can see where she’s looking. A tall, gangly figure is visible through the trees, and Alexa lets out a yelp. 

She turns and runs in the opposite direction, and the camera pulls back, revealing the figure to be Peter. He runs after her, and for a moment the screen is a blur of passing trees and bushes as the two tributes run through the woods. 

Just as they break into a clearing, Alexa trips over a tree branch. Her axe flies out of her hands and she falls to the ground, letting out a scream of pain. She tries to get to her feet, but as soon as she puts weight on her left ankle it buckles beneath her and she cries out again. 

Peter catches up to her and pauses for a moment, catching his breath, and Alexa whimpers, scooting away from him as best as she can. 

“ALEXA!” 

Janusz runs out into the clearing, his eyes wide with panic. Peter turns towards him, surprise written on his face, but before Janusz can get any closer, Alexa shrieks:

“NO! Run, Janusz! Get out of here!”

“I cannot leave you, Alexa!” Janusz shouts, but Alexa shakes her head, her eyes brimming with tears. 

“RUN! PLEASE!” she begs.

Janusz stands frozen for a moment, his eyes locked with Alexa's, and she nods at him when Peter takes a step his way. Blinking away tears, Janusz takes a deep breath and spins away, running back into the forest the way he came. 

The camera cuts abruptly back to Pinocchio, who is crouching in the bushes several yards away from the perimeter of Caesar, Jasper, and Jimmy’s camp. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he lets out a long, low howling sound. 

The boys look up at the noise and Pinocchio makes the call again, a little louder this time. 

“Is that a wolf?” Jimmy asks, his voice stuffy from his broken nose, and Jasper frowns, tilting his head. 

“It might be? It’s hard to tell, it sounds far away.” 

"It doesn't sound much like a wolf to me," Caesar says.

Pinocchio howls again, even louder, and Jimmy nervously looks towards the sound. 

“It might be one of those engineered things they make. We shouldn’t stay here.”

“Hold on a minute,” Caesar begins, but he is cut off by a piercing shriek. 

“AAAAAAh! No! Get away! No! AAAAAaaaah!” Pinocchio screams, before letting out another howl.

“We have to go!” Jimmy insists, and he takes off running.

“Jimmy, wait!” Jasper calls, running after, and after a moment Caesar moves to join them. 

The three don’t make it far before Jimmy’s foot twists underneath him and he falls face forward. He lets out a scream of pain as he lands, and the camera zooms in to reveal  that he stumbled into a wide, shallow hole that was covered in a layer of vines…the very vines Pinocchio discovered with the artificially enhanced thorns. Jimmy tries to push himself back to his feet, but every movement only drives the thorns deeper into his skin and he flinches, unable to stand on his own.

"It was a trap," Jasper says, and Caesar curses.

“Our supplies!” he exclaims, and he turns and runs back in the direction of their campsite.

Jasper approaches Jimmy’s side and tries to help pull him up, but he is unable to do so without hurting Jimmy even more. He winces as he scraps against one of the thorns, leaving a long, shallow cut along his arm. Sighing, he lets go of Jimmy's hand and takes a step back.

“Don’t just leave me here!” Jimmy protests, but Jasper just shakes his head in apology before turning and running after Caesar. 

He arrives back at the camp to find Caesar holding his trident, a glare on his face.

"The food that Jimmy had is gone," he reports. "So is the hunting knife and our sleeping bag."

"So we were played," Jasper says, and Caesar nods.

“It was that kid from Eleven," he growls. "I saw him raiding our stuff, but he took off into the woods when he heard me coming.” 

“What are we gonna do?” Jasper asks.

A cannon blast signaling the death of a tribute, the first to be heard since the bloodbath, echoes through the woods. Caesar grits his teeth. 

“We’re going to get him back.” 

The camera cuts back to Janusz, who is still running through the woods as fast as he can. He reaches the edge of the treeline and finds himself at the top of a high, rocky outcropping just as the first cannon fires. 

Tears are streaming down his face as he doubles over, trying to catch his breath. 

“I’m sorry, Alexa,” he sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

The sound of a branch snapping makes him jerk his head up, and the camera zooms out to show Marty crouching at the edge of the forest, watching Janusz like a hawk. 

Janusz shakes his head, and he straightens. 

“No…no, I do not want to play this game anymore!” he says, backing away. His heel reaches the edge of the cliff and he freezes, looking down at the drop behind him before looking back to Marty. 

The other tribute leaves cover of the treeline and makes his way slowly towards Janusz, who clenches his fists at his sides. 

“I will not play this game anymore!” he shouts, before looking up at the sky, one final tear rolling down his cheek. “I’m coming after you, Alexa,” he whispers.

Closing his eyes, he holds his arms out to the side and lets himself fall backward. 

Marty stops and watches as Janusz falls, and a moment later a second cannon blast sounds. 

“Damn, kid,” says Marty, raising his eyebrows. “I didn’t think you had that in you.”  

The camera cuts back to Jimmy’s body lying tangled in the thorns. Pinocchio sits on the ground a few feet away, his eyes hollow and the hunting knife he took from Caesar's camp in his hand, blood dripping from the blade.

One more cut, this time to a zoomed in shot of one of the black jackets that the tributes all are wearing lying on the ground. One of the sleeves is torn off the jacket, and the camera pans over to a small, trembling pair of hands as they wrap the jacket sleeve around their ankle with the practiced care of someone who has done this many, many times before. The shot zooms out and you see Alexa, pale and shaking but alive, sitting with her back against a large rock. She finishes wrapping her ankle, then carefully gets to her feet and tests balance. She winces slightly as she puts weight on the foot, but she squares her shoulders and pushes onward, limping off into the trees.  

The broadcast will now break for commercial. Please tune in again soon to see what else will become of our tributes on the first day of the games!

— — —

Game Summary

Deaths:

Jimmy was killed by Pinocchio

Janusz was killed by himself

Kill Counts:

Pinocchio: 2 (Maria, Jimmy)

Inga: 1 (Jim L)

Caesar: 1 (Juliet)

Game Meta

Day 1 was a really interesting one! I was absolutely devastated that my boy Janusz was taken out of the running so soon, so I hope that I gave his death scene some emotional weight for you guys. Also a real loss to have Jimmy exit so soon, I know both of these boys are high on people's favorite list, but alas, I do not control the deaths.

I altered only one major thing for today: I had to make up something totally original happen to Johnny, since somehow my screenshot cut off what was supposed to happen to him. I chose to have him be involved in the fight with Benjamin and Robin for reasons that will become clear later in the games >:3

There are lots of little changes in regards to alliances that you may have noticed; specifically Alexa asks Hugh to team up which is not in the screenshots and Johnny teams up with Priscilla and Inga which is not on the list. Both are things that happen in Night 1, and I put them during the day so that I could set up having actual character conversations during the Night and not worry about getting them to agree to spend time with each other.

In general, I will be more flexible with the timeline of when characters interact with each other in terms of alliance forming, to make the narrative make more sense (this is also why Inga is involved in the alliance with Hugh and Priscilla even though the simulator doesn't mention that, it doesn't make sense with what her future actions are to not be part of this group. You'll see what I mean later).

Also, I want to quickly bring something up: This simulator also has a "tribute summary" at the end of each simulation that shows you who is alive, who is dead, and how many kills each tribute has. This is also where you as a creator can manually kill or resurrect any tribute, though I did not use those features.

I will NOT be using these summaries in the future screencap wrap ups, because they're not actually correct. The computer doesn't always tally things correctly, and thus my manual Kill and Death count will be more accurate (if you look at the table, you'll see that Pinocchio only has one kill and Caesar has 2...I think the simulator attributed Jimmy's death to Caesar by mistake). I just wanted to mention that for transparency's sake!

[lizdive]

Sunday who finds out his older sibling is a trailblazer and later gets to hang out with them more once he joins the Astral Express (^-^)

and the nameless sunday series continues !! i <3 all the older sibling requests people are sending KEEP EM COMING GUYS 🗣️🔥💯‼️ i did this in 90% head canon format because I couldn’t properly brain storm a good fic-esque formatted beginning and I have a lot of ideas for this,,, i’m sosososo sorry,,,, thank yew for the request :3 if you are not satisfied just tell me and i’ll redo it !! <33

notes 𐙚 gender-neutral reader — "you" + "older sibling" used to refer to reader ,, reader as an older sibling ,, platonic relationships ,, this isn’t proofread ,, ignore typos

⭑ I’d like to start this by saying that childhood was probably not the best part of your life. It wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t the best part of your life story. You had to fend for yourself and your siblings before Gopher Wood came in and adopted you three, and even then he would probably try to manipulate you into his perfect pawn by using your siblings against you.

⭑ For a while you just.. went with it because while you had a dream, you didn’t know how to accomplish it unlike Robin. And so, you and SUNDAY, the perfect dreamless children that you both were, were perfect for Gopher Wood to manipulate and isolate.

⭑ But since you were older and had a bit more life experience, you knew not to trust his every word. You tried to help SUNDAY, you really did, but you also needed to help yourself. There is definitely some older sibling guilt in this.

⭑ It wasn’t until you heard of the Astral Express that you finally realized how to accomplish your dream. Join the express and finally be able to see the cosmos while escaping the grasp of Gopher Wood. To abandon the path of harmony and order and join the trailblaze — that was what you wanted.

⭑ How you managed to join is up to your interpretation.

⭑ You told SUNDAY you were going to accomplish your dream before you left, and you offered him to join you — you almost begged him to join. But he stood firm in his decision to stay and wished you well on your journeys. You knew you couldn’t force him, and so off you were onto the Astral Express without him knowing the means of how you would accomplish your dream.

⭑ You kept in touch with SUNDAY and Robin of course, and you visited Penacony every chance you got. Watching your little brother grow up from afar hurt a bit, and as he matured with the mindset that was forced upon him, you wished you had taken his place. But SUNDAY is a man of his word, and you know the promise he made to you and Robin will not be broken so easily.

⭑ But you always supported him, because at the end of the day he was your little brother. You may or may not have a soft spot for him.

⭑ SUNDAY is smart and perceptive, so when you showed up at the same time the Astral Express did during the Penacony quest, he quickly connected the dots. So that’s how you did it — hopping from planet to planet so easily without struggle and without running out of money.

⭑ Initially, he’s a bit hurt you never told him and you kept such a secret for so long, and he’ll give you silent treatment for some time until you apologize with sweets and a looonggg explanation with detail. It’s like those reddit stories.

⭑ The halovian is a bit protective of his older sibling, so it’s no surprise he began asking you if they were treating you well and that if you ever want to leave them but continue traveling he can give you all the credits need and more.

⭑ He does not question you on switching paths. He would never question his older sibling who has doted on him and cared for him and Robin and who he loves so so much. Also he knows he isn’t innocent, either.

⭑ He appreciates the offer of him joining, but he would never do that. As head of the oak family, he needs to fulfill his duties.

⭑ When Robin’s 'death' occurs, SUNDAY finds himself swarmed with horrible what-ifs. No longer will you be with your Astral Express friends during your stay. Please just stay close with him, he can’t bear the thought of losing you, too.

⭑ And when the Charmony Festival comes and he is forced to fight against you, he tries to take the easy route. Why fight you when you can be put in the order’s dream once more? He knows you and your weakness. He can lull you into slumber once more.

⭑ Please fall for it… he just.. he doesn’t want to hurt his family. If you’re a support unit during it all like Robin, please stay far away from the fight.. and most importantly, please don’t hate him.

⭑ During his fall from grace, he expects a gaze of hatred from you. He who has hurt your team and put you all through an endless amount of hardships. He who has deceived not only the crew but you as well. You, who has been nothing but supportive of him.

⭑ But your embrace that follows Robin’s makes him feel all the more horrible. Because you have forgiven him despite him not deserving such a blessing.

"I… think I’ll take you up on that offer…" SUNDAY’s voice is faint as he looks down in embarrassment and shame. His wings subconsciously hide his lower face and his gaze is downcast. For once, he is not the elegant and mysterious SUNDAY that the world knows him as.

Right now, he is SUNDAY, your little brother that you used to share your books with and show him all the various planets you’d visit one day. He is SUNDAY, your little brother who would do the most just to impress you.

March wants to protest, and so does the Trailblazer. But before they can speak, Himeko holds up a hand to keep them silent. This is not their decision to make, it’s yours. Because Himeko knew that you offered him to join many times and she was okay with it — Pompom, too.

Penacony needs him no more. He serves no purpose other than to live now. To exist and find the path he wishes to tread. And if he has decided that the trailblaze is that path, then who are you to deny him of his wish? The one wish that was his.

A step, and then another. You take his gloved hands into yours. He flinches, hesitantly looking at you. Your gaze is tender and welcoming. "You’ll have a lot of fun, I promise."

⭑ I’ve said this in my other nameless SUNDAY posts: The crew would not want to interact to him too much. But I think in this scenario Himeko would be more open, and the crew would be more understanding of why you’re so kind and gentle with him.

⭑ Sleepovers!! SUNDAY will room with you for the first few months nights. He had nightmares of what happened to Robin and he’s very anxious so you being in the same room as him is very comforting. May sleep in the same bed as you, too, if the nightmares get too bad.

⭑ Honestly if you don’t mind this arrangement he’ll probably room with you forever. It doesn’t inconvenience him too much. It all just depends on you.

⭑ Your solo vacations have become duo vacations. He’ll rarely ask you directly to join but he will hint at it. He understands if you don’t want to take him, though.

⭑ If you do, however, take him, it’ll be a very fun time! SUNDAY will make a list of activities so the trip seems much more organized which then leads to less stress and you’ll be able to do everything you want and more!

⭑ Trust that 99% of your time on the Express will be spent with SUNDAY. So much time missed out during childhood,, doing 'childish' activities with SUNDAY !! Coloring with crayons, messing around with stuffies, etc. would be very fun, especially playing with stuffies and dolls because he takes his roles 100% seriously.

⭑ Likes being held in your arms. Not in a weird way, he just likes feeling like a kid again when you used to hold him whenever he’d get upset. Whether it’s cuddling or hugging, SUNDAY just really likes to be held in his older sibling’s embrace and be comforted.

⭑ Likes playing board games with you. Also collects them.

[humdinky]

i just finished watching scavenger's reign yesterday, and let me tell y'all this is genuinely the best piece of sci-fi media i have seen in a long while, and it's insane how little i've seen this show being discussed online! it is probably the most unique and viscerally stunning series i’ve ever seen. the world that they have created is equal parts fascinating and terrifying, and every part of it feels fully realized. sci-fi is at its best when it lets go of nostalgia and explores the unknown, and SR gives me hope that real sci-fi can take root again, and be something beyond what came before it.

i will refrain from giving too much away in my discussion because this show works best the less you know going into it. the premise for this show is simple: crewmembers of a crashed freighter ship are left scattered across an alien planet. a good chunk of time has already passed by the time the show begins, and a few of the survivors have already established camps. however, things quickly spiral out of control as disaster wipes away their progress and forces each of them to move on. it's a harsh and unforgiving world that tests them each and every step of the way on their journey.

worldbuilding is where this show truly shines. it is no easy thing to design an entire ecosystem from scratch. it takes an insane amount of creativity and attention to detail to pull off what this show has. and my god did they fucking pull it off. living balloons floating through the air, large sea creatures that suck up their eggs when faced with danger, tendrilled plants that spawn clones of their prey to track them down - it is a frightening, surreal, and violent world, but harmonious in its own way. some creatures poison you, others clean off the poison. there are your typical type of predators that come at you with sharp fangs and giant pincers, but then there are predators that hunt via more insidious means: manipulating the memories of their prey to have them do their bidding, or hijacking their bodies from the inside. ultimately, the characters who fare best in this world are those who learn to adapt to it, and even sync with it.

SR also boasts a surprisingly well-crafted narrative. we are shown just enough of the world to keep us hooked, but it still feels like there is a lot left to be discovered. i also really enjoy the way the story is delivered to us. we follow the journeys of a few isolated groups whose paths gradually intersect. the characters are all fleshed out and three-dimensional - they were different enough to be unique and quirky, but never too different that it felt overboard. the way they react is exactly how humans in those circumstances would and should, the dialogue and voice acting were just superb. it felt so insanely real at times.

i really do hope that this show gets greenlit for a second season. this type of pure creative freedom is what we need right now. all in all, scavenger's reign is a gorgeous nightmare that you need to experience for yourself.

[sepublic]

Adding to the timeline of Darius and Eberwolf’s rebellion, it’s a fun little detail that right after almost being killed by Eda’s curse, they get a chance to talk with Raine properly and come to an understanding, which leads to the two suggesting the curse as a weapon against the coven; It makes sense, given how it completely negated two coven heads, and I imagine Darius’ Abomination form to be pretty unstoppable until it came across the decays of Archivist magic.

Raine seems to reiterate their refusal to involve Eda, and right after this scene we have Hollow Mind, which deals with the rebels’ attempt to invade Belos’ mindscape. Given Raine is established to pretty pro-murder, I don’t think it was as simple as learning the truth about the draining spell, since they seemed to have already figured it out; We see how damaging a mindscape can damage the individual themselves.

It seems their plan was to just assassinate Belos outright, since he knew the carvings necessary for the ritual. So was this Raine’s idea, a Plan B that they eventually pushed as a Plan A, because better to try taking out Belos ASAP, than let him attempt the draining spell at all, right? And of course this brings me to how the only other time we see a mindscape spell, it’s via Eda…

So did Eda teach it to Raine? After all, the mindscape spell the CATTs pull off seems to involve multiple forms of magic, so it tracks only Eda could do it for those reasons. That’s poetic; Raine using Eda’s magic to save Eda. Alas, it didn’t work out; The CATTs had to bail with Hunter’s presence. Maybe they would’ve succeeded if they’d made it in, or not, if it’s implied that Belos anticipated the attack; If Hunter heard rumors, it’s probable he heard it by eavesdropping on his uncle as Kikimora did.

And as for Luz? At that point, the plan was already a bust; She didn’t ruin anything. But she did put Hunter into the mindscape with her by accident. But as traumatizing as it was, it did inadvertently lead to Hunter’s survival, I suspect; If he didn’t see the truth with his own eyes, he might have realized it too late, and stuck with Belos up until the Day of Unity, and been killed at the skull. Kikimora wouldn’t have brought “Hunter” there herself, so the Hexsquad wouldn’t have followed her there, and thus King could not free the Collector.

In other words: Luz tackling Hunter saved the life of everyone with a sigil. Nice job, kiddo!

And so in a really roundabout way, Raine’s attempt to avoid using Eda to stop the draining spell saved everyone after all, as was Eda just dabbling in that kind of wild magic to begin with! That was one component to that whole outcome; The other was Raine confronting their avoidance by owning up to their mistakes, just as they own up to keeping Eda out of the loop for the sake of her kids, by involving all three. And look how it turned out!

It’s sad, but. It really took a lot of guts and acceptance on Raine’s part to face it head-on, eyes wide and back straight. They could’ve insisted otherwise, but by that point they’d learned their lesson to isolate Eda, after breaking up with her for doing the same to them. Different extenuating circumstances mind you, but it’s just. Wow. Likewise, Eda may have destroyed herself out of self-loathing at first, but this time she really is doing it for the isles, for the wild magic she always loved and defended; It’s how she earned the Bat Queen’s trust.

The first sacrifice was called off because it was done out of self-hatred, this one is done out of love, it’s actually for the kids Eda cares about, and not to cut herself off from them. And if it was those two Raine called it off for, it’s those two Raine lets it go on for.

[mayasaurusss]

Chapter two: Saint Lawrence's martyrdom. A/N: This took me far longer than I thought it would😅. I am very sorry about the delay. I hope my writing and storytelling has evolved since one year ago. ! This chapter in particular had three dream scenarios. I know it might get old fast, but given the trauma it leaves on the reader, I'd challenge everyone who wouldn't have a fever dream trip. I hope you guys will enjoy this installment of Curses! Edit: I realized I accidentally exchanged two moments in the episode, but I don't think it'll break the immersion; if it does, let me know so I might work around it.

Contains: heavy description of wounds, dead dove do not eat.

Today the world seems bigger, larger, louder and hotter than usual. Loud sounds fill your ears, disturbing you as you try to draw the perfect circle on a sheet of paper, but failing to do so; your hands are too small and clumsy, and you have trouble trying to control the flow of the colorful wax.

You huff, angry and impatient, but suddenly you're taken up, the world now distant from your eyes.

Someone takes you in their arms; your dad is laughing, you still feel so very small in his giant arms, like a kitten. You can't really see his face, his young self erased by time, only his voice recognizable. He moves, walking too fast for your liking, and you watch as the white walls of your home are replaced by green and blue hues.

Dad places you near his seat, where he can have you under his eyes, protected by all the evils in the world. You feel something soft under you; two coloured pillows, as fluffy and comfy as they can be aid, placed so you can reach the table. Its surface is covered in a cheap paper cloth, so white that it could blind you.

The grown ups are always so loud when they talk, discussing meaningless things, things that kids your age don't think about. You don't listen to them, watching with amazement as a ladybug crawls on the table, its shape and colours isolating it from the endless white paper. "So, how old are you dear?" the old woman at the end of the table asks you, her eyes smiling under her glasses; how long has it been since you've seen her? Days? Weeks? Months?

"Four. She's four". Ah, that's right. You're three. Your teacher had taught you to count till ten, but sometimes you still forget how old you are.

You're four, it's summer and you are happy. The wind is blowing through the trees of the park your dad takes you to every day, the sun high in the blue sky.

You're four, it's summer, and you are happy.

You still hear your dad and the old woman talk, countless voices joining and swirling together, too loud to track in between the cicadas buzzing.

When mom arrives, she sits next to you, smiling as you laugh and clap your hands when she gives you a plate full of your favorite dish. As much as you're happy about finally eating, the plate in front of you looks weird: you can't see anything, only smell it. Colours mix where the food should be, making it unrecognizable to you.

"Sweetie, aren't you going to eat?" despite how strange things seem to be, you take your green plastic fork, following a script that has already been written.

The fork can only dig so much in, until the food spills all over the tablecloth, colouring it a deep red. You discard the fork, leaving it untouched and reach for the food with your hands, before dad comes in and helps you. He is strong enough that he manages to pierce the food -something that you still have trouble with- and with his hand, aids you into eating. Learning the movement is difficult, but after your dad so graciously helped you, you mimic him, taking the fork in your hand and beginning to eat again.

You finish your plate, the food satiating a hunger you didn't think your little body could feel. But you want more. You ask for more.

The blood tinted snow doesn't bother you too much, but the idea that they could get more of her than you makes a heavy jealousy pull at your heart and stomach. You dig in again, ignoring the feeling of her lungs touching the back of your hands,

Something stings you, just a couple of inches from your elbow. You don't mind too much, until it starts to get hot; hot, hot like lava, like molten sugar on your skin, like sunshine burning an ant nest. Your body can't handle it, every cell, every nerve screaming at you to smite it, to just take it off of you. The scream that leaves your body could have been mistaken for a banshee, alerting everyone at the table. Your body is taken up, frantically checked for anything out of the ordinary, but nothing is there. You scream, scream scream scream until no air is left in your lungs, until the world fades to a charred black, until every limb of yours lays motionless. The burning travels up your arm, up, up, up...

"There, it's all good. It was just a ladybug bite, nothing I can't handle".

Dad takes your hand and gives it a kiss, shooing the pain away. "Yes dear, everything is alright" mom gives you a kiss, smooshing your little cheeks in her hands. There, cuddled between them, you are safe. The world is warm, full of love. It's summer, you're three; everything will be fine. "Mom...Dad!"

Everything will be fine.

Mom... Dad…

"...lp! Someone! Pl-..." smoke fills the interiors of the plane, pitch black, so dense she can't make out the shape of the body next to her. Vanessa feels weak, her fingers unsuccessfully fiddling with the seatbelt, trying to tear it open. Her body is pushed against the seat in front of her, plastic pressed against her throath. Her teammates have all abandoned her, all of them. You grunt, just now coming back to the world. "We- we have to get out!" searching for the opening of the seatbelt, Van pulls hard, to no avail. Desperation fills her heart, like a parasite eating at her lungs. The fire is getting closer; blazing hot, burning the oxygen in the plane. As if somehow God himself helped her, Van manages to push her legs beneath herself, cramping nerves and blood vessels and slips free. Fire burns the floor faster, and despite feeling terribly guilty, Van runs, escaping and leaving you behind. You don't wake up. The only thing that exists is heat and darkness. As the fire travels up your arm, you are suddenly brought back to the world violently, smoke filling your brain and burning you alive. You scream, scream as loudly as your body can, marrow melting inside your bones, nerves dying, blood pooling at your guts, body decaying. You scream for your father, you scream for your mother. Why aren't they here? Why can't they save you? Someone takes your arm, tugging you with their whole force from the seats in front of you, slipping you free from the fire's cruel grasps. They run with you, dragging your burning body with them. Vanessa emerges from the plane's door, her voice strained and tears flowing from her eyes. "Somebody, please help!" you are immediately thrown on the forest floor, its coolness a welcomed feeling; then, someone repeatedly hits you with a cloth until the last flame has been smithen.

"Find water! Anything at all!" steps and screams echo in the forest, as people scatter around to look for anything to use as aid. Some find a bottle of water, shirts that can be ripped open, a makeup cleanser, a bottle of cream... anything to save you. For the past minutes, Misty has been running up and down, medicating everyone that needed help, cleaning blood, stitching skin. Anything that might've helped her teammates. Misty, in these moments, has the fate of everyone on her shoulders. That cold, calculating side of her came in handy for this situation, but despite the things that she had to do and saw, this might be too much for her.

Fire has eaten away at your skin, exposing the red bloodied meat underneath, made all more disgusting by the charred black skin at the borders. Your flesh is littered by pustules, forming disgusting constellations across your body. But what's worse is the smell; acrid, putrid, like burned up pig meat, like waste and grease. Misty can't do it. She can't. This is far too much for her, this is too much. For a moment, she wishes you would just die. How can a life after this be truly lived? You'd be more helpful to all of them if you just died. Someone grabs at her shoulder, shaking her out of her trance. "Misty!" Vanessa cries, tears straining at the corner of her eyes. Her teeth clatter against each other, adrenaline coursing through her. "Can't you do something?!". Misty looks back at you, her brain unable to process what is happening. She sees herself out of her body, everyone surrounding her, the life of someone in her hands. She can. She can do something.

"The cleanser, the cleanser. And the bottle of water" she uses the leftover makeup cleanser on your worst wounds, careful to use every last drop of it. Then the water, dumped all over your skin. With the strand of cloth given to her, Misty wraps up all of your wounds, from smaller to larger. Your arm and hand, ribs and stomach, hip and shin. Your face remains last. The burn runs from your jaw across the cheek, almost reaching your eye. Small pustules pulse near the burn. Contrary to your hand and arm, in far worse shape, your face was subjected to only a second degree burn. It wasn't going to scar; not too deep, at least. "What do we do now?" a small voice asks, weak in the silence of the forest. "We wait; and hope she'll wake up".

Endless darkness. That is what you wake up to, your body a sharp contrast against this bidimensional space. Where am I?

You try to move, but find your legs submerged into murky waters, waves of black goop staining you. Walking proves more difficult than you'd thought, strings of that sticky substance keeping you in place, snapping and mixing back with its body of origin. You don't know why you walk, you don't know where you're headed, but you simply do, following a script that had already been written for you. Minutes, hours, years and centuries go by, and the space stills, as if whatever this is, it's out of the borders of time.

You walk and walk, walk until your legs feel like lead, until you are nothing more than a machine, mindlessly walking to its doom. Your eyes, who's gaze had fallen to concentrate on the movement of the waves beneath you. They seem to change shape, sometimes, reflection of faces and hands reaching out to you meeting your gaze. But one of those reflections proves to be true; cold, slimy fingers hook on your skin, bringing you closer to the surface of the water. Terror doesn't fill you right away, but when your brain processes what is happening, you are out of breath. Every inch of your skin feels like it has been dried in the cold winter wind, your blood flowing like freezed river waters breaking apart their surfaces. You can try to fight it, but you won't succeed. Thousands, billions of fingers, their fingers, take a hold of you, dragging you down with them. As the black water fills your lungs, howling echoes from the distance. You drown.

On the other side of the waking world, Lottie is pacing through the camp, her heart pounding and her brain fatigued, trying to make sense of what is happening. She feels strange, disembodied from herself, nowhere close to what is happening to her teammates around her.

Just... what the fuck happened? "I am sorry, I am sorry, please..." Lottie turns around towards the source of the sound, not expecting to see Van kneeling next to you. She's holding a hand to her lips, choking her sobs down, while simultaneously near, but not daring to touch you in any way. Lottie gets nearer, her brain scrambling to get to a solution. She can't understand what's wrong; why would Van be apologizing to you? And why now? You're clearly sleeping-.

The first thing that she notices is the pink colour of exposed meat. Then, the extent of the burns register inside her mind: from the outer thigh to the middle of your side; from your hand, running across your arm to end in the middle of your cheek. But what alienates her most of all is your expression. You look... calm, as if you've just gone to bed. You look dead.

"What... what happened?" Van doesn't seem to question her presence; only answers, without breaking eye contact with the burns on your body. "I don't know. She, she was next to me. The fire was so close and..." she's in the plane again, fire burning oxygen and skin, the smell of flesh in the air. She can't say it. tears flood her eyes, her voice dying in her throath and not a moment later, Vanesssa is gone, walking through the camp, searching for a place to stop and cry alone.

Lottie is left alone with your body, the slow rise of your chest the only indicator that you are still alive.

This is your fault, you know. What? If you had asked her to sit next to you, she wouldn't be left like this, half dead. No, no. It wasn't my fault. The plane crashed. I couldn't have known. Yet, because of you, she will die. She won't, Misty- Do you really believe that she will survive? Even if she did today, the trauma left will do the rest of the job the fire couldn't. It's your fault, Lottie.

"No, it fucking isn't" she pronounces the words with her teeth gritted, pure hatred for it in every syllable she pronounces. She takes a moment to realize that she said the words out loud, the worried glances of her teammates burning on her skin. She can feel herself slipping out of sanity, those voices that plagued her since she was a kid coming back stronger, angrier. She just...she has to find her pills. Right now.

A scream of pain interrupts her thoughts, taking her back to reality. As if attracted like a magnet, Lottie follows it, with her the whole lot of the team. What they find in front of them, is something that could only be a part of a horror movie. Coach Scott on the ground, a wing of the plane crushing his lower body. He's barely holding on to conscience, his eyes switching to unfocused every few seconds.

He seems to be barely relieved when he spots Misty and the others approaching him. "Hey girls... is it, uh, can you move it?". Lottie really doesn't want to. Something in her tells her to leave him and be selfish, but she knows better than to listen.

Her fingers hook onto the border of the wing, pushing it upwards, before, with the shared effort of everyone, they manage to slide it just enough to release Ben from his death trap. But what they see is far from relieving.

Ben's leg, now twirled on itself disgustingly, looking like a pile of flesh and blood. He doesn't manage to stay awake long enough to see it, and passes out from the pain. Lottie's legs give out from underneath her, her stomach churning at the amount of blood. She can't stop her voice from screaming "Oh fucking God!", cannot process what's happening. But not before long, Misty returns. Maybe she can do something, maybe with her help, coach Ben will-.

For a split second, the sun seems to highlight the cut of the blade, reflecting silver onto the forest floor. It swings down onto Ben's leg, hard, cutting it clean off of the useless rest of the limb. The horror that follows is palpable in the air. Mari can't contain the rest of her lunch and spills it on the ground. Natalie could very well be the truest depiction of horror there ever was. Lottie can't breathe, her lungs hiccupping back every bit of air in them. And Misty moves with eerie precision, every action she does calculated. Anything to keep Ben alive. She pushes glasses back on her face, fighting the need to throw up building up in her throath. With her belt she stops the flow of blood trickling down Ben's veins, checking if any drops fall down, before she turns to her teammates, her face painted in red.

"Help me move him!"

The forest is silent. Snow stifles every sound you or nature makes, giving it an eerie yet calm atmosphere. The world looks so blue, the shades of the sky reflected on the snow. You could lose yourself in this place and never come back, but those things on your trail make it harder to enjoy the scenery.

You have been running for a while now, legs barely able to sustain your weight, and the harsh wind nipping at your skin certainly doesn’t make your escape easy. They have been on you for the past half hour. No matter where you run, they seem to always be one step ahead. You are a victim, a prey, an easy meal; and they are your predators,the cunning hunters that will devour you in just a matter of time.

But maybe you can escape them. Maybe, if you just bury yourself in the snow, they won’t-. Howls echo in the distance, approaching every second. Everything cries, from the wind to the crows' song, from their screams to yours.

You can’t do anything but try to move through the thick snow. Despite everything, you still want to live. Your survival instincts carry you before your brain can think, and you run and run and run, until you fall like all the others before you. But yours is an excruciating death, one that could maybe rival what the others went through: wooden spikes pierce your body, your organs failing, your brain shutting down, leaving you impaled like a victim of a meaningless murder. The one that finds you doesn’t see you as anything other than a meal, a promise of a nice dinner. You are taken back to them, paraded like a crude display of man’s dominance over nature, as if all your existence was reduced to cattle, to be consumed. You are nothing more, you never were anything else. 

They leave you to dry, the wound opened on your side drying you of all the blood that once gave you life. After all, who would want to bite on a delicious, perfectly cooked piece of meat, only to find their mouth filled with blood? It’s alright, you think, sometimes the weak have to die so that humanity may strive. It’s what has happened since the beginning of time, and it will continue up until the very end. But you were more than that, you were more than a meal. You were someone, with hobbies and things you loved. But in the harsh conditions of nature, were you really anything other than meat?

They cook you just right, offering your flesh to their queen, sustaining her. This reminds you of something you read what feels like an eternity ago. The yellow jacket, or vespula maculifrons, if you focus on its eastern variation. A type of predatory social wasp. Aggressive when provoked, the swarm of sterile female insects will be relentless when defending their home. Instead of foraging for pollen, the eastern yellowjackets hunt other insects. Their adults feed the larvae with a dissected chewed paste made of insects and carcasses. 

You'd think that the human species had evolved the basic rules of nature, but as you lock gaze with your own eyes, boring into your skull, you can't help but laugh in your mind; we really haven't changed since the first of us walked the earth. 

As the queen gives the command, they barely hold themselves before they swarm your body. Someone pulls at your hair, another bites at your chest, hands dig into your stomach, teeth ripping your limps apart. You watch as you eat yourself, another version of you consuming what once was yours and hers. 

And as they tweeze out your eyes, discarding them into the snow, colours merge with one another, bone marrow melts away into your sockets and you are reduced to nothing more than a liquefied corpse. 

You start to remember everything that ever happened to you, everything and everyone that you ever were: you are a high school girl on her way to her first soccer practice. You are a man who’s disillusioned with reality. You are a kid who hurt herself on a hot summer’s day. A  woman who’s plagued by voices; a boy who just wanted to live. You are a young girl who just wants her mother’s affections, you are a woman who can’t let go of the past. 

You are ancient; as ancient as the first roots born in the earth. You have been walking on this earth long enough that the first civilizations spoke of you as the ghost haunting the woods. You are a concept, winter itself. You are hunger. And now, now you have a chance: with them, you will what humanity is truly capable of. You will be given a name.

You close your claws on the girl’s shoulder, sinking them deep into her skin. Brought back to your body, you slowly come back to the world of the living. You hear Its voice, disembodied and as sounding like wind chimes and guttural animal sounds. “Good luck”. 

When you finally wake up, it's night time. The smell of fire and laughter tell you that you are safe, wherever you are. Those might very well be the first laughs this forest has ever heard. Your eyelids feel too heavy to open, so you remain silent, listening to the voices of the people you know. But it’s only so long until you feel the need to stir awake. The sounds you make alert someone; in just a few seconds, they’re already on you, steadying you against the tree bark. “It’s okay, I am here” she says, and even if you can’t see her, you recognize her voice and her smell. She gently guides you awake and you open your eyes to find her disheveled; her hair out of her ponytails and dirt on her face. In this moment, you find her breathtakingly beautiful. “L-Lottie?” your eyes feel sealed and your throat raw.

“Where… where are we?” what the fuck happened? She answers truthfully, “I don’t know”, tears of terror and tiredness threatening to spill. “What happened?” you can vaguely feel a slight itching on your left, but your head is too heavy and you can’t move your neck. You feel the constant need to move your limbs, to extinguish the adrenaline that is running through your body. The young woman struggles to place your trembling body next to hers,“We crashed. The plane fell” she says, finally managing to keep you in place, your head nestled in the crook of her neck. “Is…everyone ok?” Lottie looks back into the darkness of the forest, where she knows the bodies of the team are lying lifeless. If she were to tell you the truth right now, she’d only make the situation worse. So, she tells you a white lie; “Most of us are okay” but knows you won’t believe her. 

Minutes go by without you nor her talking, just baskin in each other's presence. The crackling of the fire lulls you, sleep coming to you fast. “I am tired Lottie” you are. You are so, so tired. “I know. Just sleep; I’ll be at your side” as soon as she says those words, you fall asleep, snoring right above her shoulder. If the direness of the situation would have allowed it, Lottie would say that you look pretty darn cute snuggled on her. 

She can only hope that everything will be resolved for the better. 

“Beginning today's session”. “Is that necessary, doctor?” she asks, hoping that that woman would lose it already. She didn’t like to be recorded. “It is. We’ll stop using it once we know you are not a threat” as if she, of all people, could be a threat. 

Well, but if you are here, there must be a reason.

The woman clicks her pen and then meets her eyes; “Good afternoon, Charlotte”. 

She never liked her too much. Those condescending eyes of hers made her feel scrutinized. “Are you ready?”; Lottie would rather be anywhere else than here, but she had not been so lucky. "Absolutely". “So tell me, have your ‘visions’ gotten worse recently?” ‘visions’ is the worst word someone might use to describe the very real things she sees. “No, I could… control them” that is not completely untrue. Since she came back on the medication, they have been less and less frequent, but her mind had not been the same after what happened there. She still hears those things, sometimes, when the lights are out.

“I see. And have you had any nightmares or dreams? Anything?”; Lottie knew she would get asked this question. She feels somewhat ashamed to admit it, though. “I - I’ve dreamt of her again”

Her therapist seems to be exasperated at that answer, blowing air from her nose, but doesn’t show it. The pen flows quickly on the paper as she gets her notes down. “Alright. The important part is that you never let those dreams or hallucinations get to you; they aren’t real”. She knows her therapist only wants to help her; or well, she pays to help her, but annoyance pokes at her brain when she hears those words that have been repeated to her over and over again. “I know that. I don’t need to remember it” oh, how she wished those were real. Sometimes. But the nightmares? She could very much leave them be. 

There’s silence for a moment, neither of them really know what to say next. Lottie focuses on the tricks the morning light makes when filtering inside the room. “You must’ve loved her very much”. 

Lottie locks her gaze with yours. The room smells of burnt flesh and fire, your single eye looking at her, the other an empty socket of darkness. Years later, you never lost your beauty, even if half of you is rotting away. You press your finger on your lips, smiling like you did all those years ago. “I still do”. 

[pancake404]

The Microcosm of Miss Delight and the Factory(+ Personal Opinions)

For a little bit, I was thinking about Poppy Playtime and my previous theory on the theming of Togetherness vs Isolation, and how isolation creates monsters as we see throughout the many toys against the Player.

But when I was thinking about the case of Miss Delight in Chapter Three, something stuck out to me.

First, let's review what happened to Miss Delight given the pages throughout the school.

After the Hour of Joy, Miss Delight and her sisters weren't sure what to do as things were now silent, there were no staff members, and Catnap had locked the door. Miss Delight isn't aware that it was Catnap, but she describes how she and her sisters are startling each other and progressively are getting more wary, perhaps even tense, thus creating Barb, which later "speaks" to her and gives advice to survive. Now, as the days went by, the food is running short, and Miss Delight explains that her sisters are guarding the supplies away from her, as she then realizes that her sisters had all collectively chosen for her to die first which Barb advices her to fight back and eat the others to survive, giving a decent plan to trick each one and devour them. She feels guilty about it, the hunger being too much, but nonetheless, she continues, and after all her sisters were dead, the door opens, and Miss Delight finds out that it was Catnap who locked it. Reasonably, she wants to kill him for it, but she knows she can't, and instead they compromise that they'll take care of each other and report to the Prototype.

It is a horrific story for a secondary villain of the chapter, but does this whole situation remind you of something?

Well, long story short, it's pretty much a representation of the factory. Specifically, those more on the Prototype side.

After the Hour of Joy, the toys assumed they would leave and get the freedom they wanted, but the Prototype doesn't allow them, keeping them all inside the factory. Of course, some of the toys are bound to be pissed and would want to kill the Prototype but like Miss Delight to Catnap, they knew they couldn't and hence we get situations like Mommy Long Legs who's on the Prototype side but given what we can infer, doesn't seem to like him at all since she can't do much about it anyway. Not only that, like Miss Delight's situation, food becomes scarce, and toys are now forced to start devouring each other. With the more isolated monsters coming out on top and taking control of the majority of the factory besides the Save Haven, which has Doey and presumingly a few other Bigger Bodies.

How Miss Delight's help from Barb could also relates to the factory and the Prototype as through the helpful voice of Barb, she is told how to successfully survive and devour her sisters.

The reason for this is that I highly believe Barb is not exactly all in Miss Delight's head, but rather the Prototype telepathically communicating with her and assisting her.

Reasons for this include:

The Prototype had been shown to have telepathic connections to certain toys, probably with the toys on his side from the Project Playtime tutorial, as the Prototype guides Huggy through the tutorial, similar to how Barb is described to give Miss Delight directions to survive.

The Prototype, like his case with Catnap, is the type to aim for isolated experiments, and Miss Delight was selected to be the one to die first by the rest of her sisters therefore, it would make sense for the Prototype to continue on that trend.

When the Player enters, Miss Delight recognizes the Player instantly, but later on, she comments about Barb speaking to her and telling her the Player is looking for his coworkers. Interesting, isn't it, how is an object that's just in her mind capable of knowing about the letter the Player had and the supposed reasoning for the Player to come back? Unless Barb was someone else indeed and was the Prototype, someone who probably sent that letter to begin with.

Now, where am I getting at...not much, definitely no bombshells or anything like that, but I do have a few other interesting theories I wouldn't mind sharing in another post.

But it is interesting since Miss Delight, I've noticed, had been overall forgotten from the majority of the fan base after Chapter Three, which makes sense since we got Chapter Four, Doey, and the Doctor. In a way, it could show how a lot of these toys' view of the situation is, and why a lot of them ended up being on the Prototype side. When it comes to desperation and starvation, like what Sawyer said, survival is always over morality, something shared often with the Player. We see from propaganda posters delivered to the Safe Haven that the Prototype side offered those on the Safe Haven side to join them or starve, staying on Poppy's side. As a different user I've seen point out, propaganda(which was what the poster was literally called in the inventory) isn't really always false information but typically a biased source of information leading a certain view point similar to how the murals in Save Haven depice the toys of the Save Haven as all the good toys and how Poppy is their savior which is later crossed out.

Speaking of the Safe Haven, I've noticed that after the chapter, there's a lot about wanting to save everyone in Safe Haven, but dumbing down all the other toys to monsters or just the "bad toys" which to me, although makes sense, doesn't exactly seem fair to those who were caught into situations like Miss Delight, especially with how certain parts of the fanbase treats toys like Mommy Long Legs and Catnap...or Poppy but Poppy to me is a VERY interesting case.

Like... can you blame Mommy Long Legs for going insane after the massive amount of abuse(and later starvation) from Playtime Co? Can you blame Catnap, or rather, 7-year-old Theodore Grambell, for trusting someone who saved his life, was there in general for him, and most likely continued to assist in his survival for treating the Prototype like a superhero and looking up to him? Can you blame Miss Delight for choosing her own life over her sisters, who all decided to pick her out first and probably will turn on each other after they dealt with Miss Delight?

We could even go the other side of the argument...

Is it really fair to claim that the "good toys" had not done anything bad or morally questionable in the ten years they were in the factory or the Hour of Joy? Is it really fair for all the BBI Smiling Critters besides Catnap to be viewed as the good critters who hadn’t done anything bad whatsoever to each other, other toys, or even Catnap himself, even if there is hardly any information about them? Is it really fair to say not ONE of the current or former members of the Safe Haven isn't willing to pull similar stuff like betrayal or torture? Speaking of torture, is it really fair to see Dogday crucified and legless and automatically say this dog has no skeletons in his closet, has no capability of hurting a fly(if he does, it's automatically seen as a noble or completely justified reason with no argument on the other end), or had not done anything bad before said torture?

I'm not saying that some toys are just as violent, as crazy, or perhaps even as evil as others, nor am I saying toys like Dogday deserved it, but in an environment like where they are such as the factory, I am bound to raise an eyebrow whenever there's a toy being nice to the Player(don't think the Player themself, isn't suspicous as living hell).

In other words, this game isn't exactly black and white, and as I believe to have stated before, it's what I like about it since it's not truly about heroes and villains(though some or worse than others), but more of multiple groups and individuals who all have different goals and all intertwine in this hellish situation everyone wound up in. Like Miss Delight in the school section, it's how the factory works. Morality is out of the question when it comes to survival and what past experiences have brought upon an individual.

Y'all can keep the Safe Haven, I'm sticking with the villain side.

[searenbound]

This is a brothers Grimm inspired retelling of sleeping beauty and my first proper somno and noncon piece so please be gentle with me and give me some constructive feedback so I can improve!.

Warnings: somnophilia, noncon, afab reader with she/her pronouns, vaginal penetration described, oral(reader receiving), delusional/yandere!Todoroki, fantasy au, I feel like it's open-ended but could be left as a standalone one shot

Pairing: prince!Shouto Todoroki x sleeping beauty!reader

Our story begins with a prince who’s grown restless under his father’s strict control.

The prince known as Shouto went on many trips, all of which were under secrecy to avoid the wrath of the mad king Enji. For if he was discovered by his father, he’d surely be severely punished.

Maybe with a beating, or perhaps isolation, or worse his siblings would suffer for his actions.

He couldn’t risk the consequences, that’s what he told himself when had discovered an old castle in ruins.

‘You’ll be late’ he tells him as he examines the thick overgrowth of thorny vines that wrap around the aged and crumbling walls.

‘You need to return’ he reminds himself, cutting through overgrowth and forcing his way into the old palace, ignoring his better judgment in favor of his curiosity.

If he were truly honest, he was hoping to find whatever valuables were left behind so he could keep on the run and never return home. So he may dare to be selfish and not worry about anyone else’s ill fate, if he were honest that is.

Clearly whoever had owned this castle was long gone, old rotting furniture and aged paintings that were caked in thick grime and dirt.

He almost turned back, nothing here could possibly be of worth right? And yet, on some sort of fateful divine intervention, he felt compelled to look around a little longer.

For what, he did not know, he certainly could not have even imagined he would discover the perfectly preserved body of a beautiful young maiden.

She appeared roughly his age when she was put to rest, he thinks it such a shame that she must have passed young.

He steps closer to observe her better, shocked to witness her chest rising and falling. He presses a hand against her soft face, noting the warmth and softness of her skin.

He knows it’s insane, her clothes were dusty and the room around them was clearly aged decades, perhaps centuries, but she is most assuredly alive just asleep.

Certainly, this must be a curse and undoubtedly one he was destined to break. Why else would he be so compelled to go searching for her?

But how?

If the stories of witches and their evil deeds and tricks were to be believed, then a kiss should do. So with this in mind, he leaned down to capture her lips, certain that the spark he felt was a sign from the heavens.

Soon his princesses would awaken and she would be so greatly impressed and grateful that she would marry him without question.

He waits what feels like one, two, three, four whole minutes, and watches in confused frustration when she remains peacefully asleep.

‘Then a kiss is not enough’ he comes to realize ‘I need to do more, I have to show her she was meant to be my wife’. It made perfect sense to him, there was no need to question himself or his motives behind this because why else would a simple kiss not work?

Clearly, he needed to consummate this divine union.

He shuddered at the thought, the reality of the situation hitting him suddenly and making him unsure if this was all a delusion of grandeur.

Maybe he should reevaluate and deal with the creeping sense of disgust in himself, or maybe this deep and sudden desire for her was truly divine?

But this was unquestionably a sinful crime in any other circumstance, something a valiant and righteous prince like himself should never allow themself to indulge in.

But his urge to move forward must be a sign, it’s brought him this far, and he wouldn’t even be here if he had ignored it.

If he did follow his compulsion, the consequences would be well worth the actions right? Just a husband committing to his wife, that’s what this was.

It isn’t wrong for him to lay his hands on her sleeping body, positioning her to aid him in removing her old clothes, and laid his hot lips on the warm flush that was revealed.

Allowing himself to travel every exposed inch until he had her sex in close sight. He laved his tongue over it in curiosity. Humming in approval when he found her to secrete the sweetest nectar he had ever had the pleasure of tasting.

He lapped away at her as if he would never be allowed to again, no, as if he had never been fed. As if he had been starving for longer than he could remember and this would be the only meal he would have in who knew how long.

He found himself greedily pressing his fingers into her little hole, desperately trying to drag out more of her essence. Long slender fingers moving back and forth, dragging against her inner walls and unknowingly inching a dam of sorts closer and closer to snapping.

It almost startled him when she squeaked out a pleasant-sounding moan, practically pouring her heavenly nectar like a fountain for him. Her sex tightening and convulsing around his fingers, he finds himself enraptured by her involuntary response to him; assured he was right to think that this was the correct action.

He resettled himself between her legs so his sex was in line with her sopping wet warmth quickly. He would take his time to know her body properly later but for now, he would focus on introducing his body to her own.

He takes a breath, takes himself in hand, and rests against her entrance. Pausing to steel his nerves before pushing into her with a single thrust. Savoring how her wet warmth parted around him and held so tightly.

‘This couldn’t be wrong when it felt so heavenly’ he thinks, throwing his head back.

He hears a murmur of discomfort from her, he figures he must be her first lover. Good. This doubtlessly meant that the divines had been saving her for him.

She was meant for this, meant to be his love, to be the vessel for his seed.

So, there was no need to hold back on her until she’d taken it all in her womb, right?

He silences her involuntary whines with hot wanton kisses, allowing his tongue to slip into her mouth and explore every bit of it. Uncaring of the lack of response, he has plenty of time to know what her kiss truly felt like once she awakens.

He lets himself indulge in her. Dragging his finger along the little pearl of pleasure that made her leak more of her essence. His hips slapped against her at a rough and quick pace, chasing a pleasure that was well worth the effort.

He wondered, would she accept loving this rough when she did wake? Would she want the way he was being so forceful or would she rather him be gentle and tender? He supposed he could be gentle.

It did sound rather nice, but he would honestly prefer this. He thinks maybe she would too, her sex twitched and spasmed so desperately around him in response to his actions. Almost as if to wring out his love, it’s hard to imagine she wasn’t or wouldn’t enjoy this.

He wondered if she would call his name loudly, he could imagine it clearly based on the sounds she was already making.

‘S-Shou! Oh, Shouto! Please!’ she’d cry out, on the verge of spilling over again and pulling him with her, accepting every drop of his white-hot love inside her.

He barely catches himself from clasping on top of her, he can feel himself starting to stir again inside of her. How must this look to her?

“W-who are you?! W-what are you do—!”.

He cuts her off with a kiss, frowning when she jerks her face away. Didn’t she understand that he was her husband now?!

“Your husband,” he says it calmly, almost coldly as his hips pick up speed again. It would seem he’d have to teach her this new role as his wife.

And this is where we leave, with a king and his queen. One will live happily ever after, the other has no option but to be “happy” with her new life.

Tag list: @when-you-are-just-done @justabratsworld @kkatsukiswife

[elainsgirl]

idk what i did for tumblr to do this to me but yikes. i usually only look at specific blogs i like for my acotar content. but today i felt like checking my fyp. and the stuff i saw shocked me.

i saw someone who finished acowar said they hate elain more than feyre and found her insufferable. first of all, you’re implying you don’t like feyre. okay so why read acotar? and three of the books at that? like leave, don’t do this to yourself lmao. second, elain killed the big bad in acowar. nesta and cassian would be history without her. where do you come off? show me where she was insufferable. because i can’t think of one single time she irritated me so i’m really curious to see what she did that bothered them.

another one said they reread acosf without first reading the og trilogy again and they said it’s crazy how you realize how horrible and abusive the IC is without the lingering empathy you have for them when you had just read the first three books… lingering empathy?… bro what??? anyone would seem like they’re being abusive if you take their actions out of context and don’t consider the backstory. but we have context. we have the luxury to know they weren’t being abusive but just trying to help the best way they knew how. and it was legit their last resort. surely their decision wasn’t an easy one to force nesta to the HOW (where she won’t be isolated and alone, the worst thing an addict can be), work in the library (which i thought was nice considering nesta finds comfort in books) and train (helped with her feelings of helplessness by learning how to defend herself). was it executed perfectly? no. but they were desperate and it’s hard to know how to properly deal with someone who is being extremely self-destructive if you haven’t dealt with it before. but it still got nesta to focus on things other than her bitterness and self hatred. it taught her self discipline. it led her to make genuine friends. if they hadn’t stepped in, these people’s favorite character would’ve eventually drank herself to death or gotten herself killed in some other dangerous situation. sorry but it’s the harsh truth. and the person said the IC abused nesta for acting mean and drinking when they also have acted just like her and worse. what? i know they party but i don’t recall them needlessly being cruel to their loved ones. then they said nesta should’ve burned the night court down at the end of acosf. tagged anti ic and anti everyone except azriel. i just know they’re a gwynriel or will become one just by looking at those tags.

i saw these two posts in only 15 seconds of scrolling. howwww are we still dealing with these people incapable of reading critically? why are you reading books where you hate 95% of the main characters? it’s one thing to like nesta and understand her, but these people are acting like she is the only victim and didn’t deserve what the IC “did to” her. if you ask me, i’d say they were too nice to her in the beginning. and it’s not like they didn’t try to include her. she pushed them away. i just know that’s how they are as people. bitter and angry at the world. but unlike nesta who learned to grow, her fanatic fans are stagnant, are usually gwynriels and quite frankly, poison the acotar fandom with their toxic takes

sorry for the long message. i needed to vent lol

This but w me on TikTok- every other video on there is about how horrible and disgusting people the IC are, Feyre’s the worst, Elains a manipulator - Nesta is a victim, Cass doesn’t deserve her etc etc. This is the sole reason I stay away from tiktok. I used to post on there everyday but it became so draining constantly having to see takes that just gave you headaches bcs of how ridiculous they are.

They find Elain insufferable bcs of her constant “crying” & “whining” in acowar where she was useless pining for a man who hated her. Because how dare she right? I mean, its not like the book prior to acowar - she was kidnapped, thrusted into a giant pot first not knowing what was going to happen to her - assualted and changed against her will into a foreign body and then given powers which put her into a camotose state and then she had to deal with the fact she lost everything she wanted, everything that was going to be hers including a marriage to the man she loves, a man who saw her. Nesta isolating herself, going off drinking at inns is a coping mechanism they can defend yet Elain being depressed & suicidal, being quiet and keeping to herself is apparently something they cant find the sympathy or even empathy to understand. Exactly. Do these people not realise how terrible they sound? And the thing is - Elain did SO MUCH in acowar. Stabbed Hybern, located the suriel, kicked HOUNDS of Az with her bare FEET. If any other fmc did such a thing they would be labelled a badass but Elain does not get that recognition. Also you’re literally right. If you hate the MAIN character of the series, why continue reading her books?

The IC are complex, flawed individuals. They make bad decisions but ultimately whatever they do is for the better good. Could they have handled the “rehab” situation better? Absolutely. But its done - it led to Nesta bettering herself and finding genuine friends. It literally ends off on Nesta and the IC being on good terms so exactly why should she burn the entire court to the grounds? Nesta isn’t perfect herself. She isn’t the victim in every single situation. Its done - their relationship will heal and become better. If you’re anti everything aside from one character maybe this series isn’t for you and thats ok. This is what I dont get about most Nesta stans, is they take defending Nesta so far to the point they distort every other character and scenario. Yep…like I say, its not a coincidence most elucien/gwynriel stans hate or the IC or the night court.

THIS. If I hated 90% of the characters in a series, you know what I’d do? Quit the series and leave the fandom. If I hated a direction a series is going in? Again. I’d quit the series instead of making such fanon, elaborate theories and HCs that I know will never happen. I feel like all these “critical” takes and hatred for most of the characters has led to the fandom being so insufferable and not an enjoyable experience to be in. When you look at that *side* which includes gwynriels and eluciens, its like they’ve read an entirely different series and they want such different outcomes compared to what the books have foreshadowed.