#and isn’t that just a neat coincidence

[petrichormore]

Thinking about how @v@ sentenced Bad to ‘3 days’ in the prison but it’s not a normal federation jail cell, and it’s not a federation approved arrest. It’s essentially kidnapping - and not even the federation workers can break into the cell or even open the door. The only one with real access is @v@ so that ‘3 days’ mentioned might very well have actually meant ‘3 days with no food, no water, and in solitary confinement’ (except for if @v@ visits, of course)

q!Bad literally complains about there being no food at one point, and presumably he needs to eat more than your average human.

But the QSMP is about love, and q!Bad has friends and children that will go above and beyond to keep him company and bring him food and water and AUGH

[lurochar]

By the Full Moon

18+ MDNI

The Radio Demon finds a spell to go back in time to reacquaint himself with his wife. His past human self is more than willing to help.

Demon Alastor x Reader x Human Alastor

Warnings: Demon Alastor mainly referred to as Radio Demon to differentiate between human Alastor. Established relationship between Alastor and Reader. OOCness. PWP. Aphrodisiacs. Lame title. Basically pure indulgence here. I haven't written anything in a while and smut even longer, so I apologize if it's bad.

----

You were worried.

Truthly speaking, you had no reason to worry as Alastor was more than capable of taking care of himself and even more so since he had his hunting rifle with him and more than likely his hunting knife, but you just could not help yourself.

After all, that murderer now labeled the Bayou Butcher was still on the loose and law enforcement had no clue as to who the killer was.

It was a silly worry since Alastor was still on the property simply storing away his hunting rifle in the shed a little ways from the main house, but it seemed like he was taking far too long to do so.

You could not help but to pace near the front door, knowing that once Alastor finally came back, he would just give you his signature smile and laugh at your apprehension all while calming your nerves down with a single stroke down the side of your cheek with his thumb.

‘He’s fine.’ You thought, breathing in deeply as you attempted to calm your pacing. ‘There's no need to worry like this. He will be back any moment.’ You nodded your head with your thoughts, finally able to stop your body from your frantic movements.

And it was only a few minutes later that you heard the key to the front door being inserted before it swung open and you instantly perked up. “Alastor!” You called out to your husband in relief, quickly moving towards him, your mind registering the radio static in the air before your body did and you abruptly froze, watching stunned as not one, but a second figure entered the house.

“Darling! I apologize for taking so long!” Alastor opened his arms, wrapping them around you and observing you closely as you trembled like an adorable newborn fawn, just as he – they expected you would. “I didn’t expect to meet such fine company outside our humble little abode here! Such a riveting conversation we had!”

Red eyes stared hungrily into yours.

“I–” You stammered, shakily peering over Alastor’s broad shoulder to look at the… otherworldly being currently standing in you and your husband’s house. “W-what– w-who is that?” You could not help the tremble in your voice.

“Hmmm,” Alastor stroked your hair, seemingly trying to find the right words. “Funny enough, this gentleman’s name is also Alastor. Isn't that just a neat coincidence?” 

“What?” You looked to Alastor weakly, knowing his name was not exactly the most common of names out there. “But that’s…”

“Do excuse my rude manners,” the ‘other’ Alastor suddenly spoke and his voice possessed the exact same tone, accent, and cadence as when your Alastor spoke on air on the radio, “but I simply had to stop when I noticed your lovely house, my dear! Why, it looks the exact same as the home I once owned many years ago! So I hope you don’t mind me dropping in unannounced like this.” He began to move closer and you shivered in your husband’s hold, “It’s a pleasure, quite the pleasure, my little Doe. I’m Alastor, the Radio Demon.”

.

.

.

What!?!?

“D-demon?” You swallowed thickly, tightening your grip in Alastor’s coat as you took in the ‘Radio Demon’s’ features. He certainly was not human, that was for sure and with those tall ears (and tiny antlers?), you almost wanted to say he was almost deer-like, but those utterly massive fangs, razor-sharp claws, and terrifying smile had you second guessing yourself.

“Remarkable, isn’t it?” Alastor murmured in your ear. “A demon straight from Hell, he says. Who would have thought Hell actually existed?” He chuckled, but you barely heard a word he said.

A demon.

A demon was standing in your house.

A demon named Alastor.

“W-wha…” You faltered, whimpering when the Radio Demon stepped in front of you and in your personal space before you could even respond. “W-what’s happening?”

“You have no idea, my darling Y/N, how long I’ve waited for this.” Demon Alastor’s tipped your face upwards with his deadly claws rather gently to get you to look at his face (and wow, was he ever so very tall), “How many decades it took for me to find a spell that could break the laws of time, just so I could see you again.”

Your mind was racing, but ultimately, could not keep up with the situation.

Decades? Spells? Laws of time? Demons? Hell? 

What was all of this? Did you fall asleep waiting for Alastor to come back and were just having some bizarre dream? 

“It's not a dream, my love.” Alastor seemed to know what you were thinking as he began to nuzzle the crook of your neck. “I didn't quite believe it either, but he knows things about me that none other could, including you.”

“T-Then you're saying–” You could not even finish your words and you jumped when the Radio Demon's claws tightened around your cheeks, not enough to cause pain but enough to get your immediate attention. “T-that you… you’re–!”

“Figured it out, my darling Doe?” The Radio Demon’s grin stretched inhumanly wide. “I'm sure you have, you always were quite clever, my dear, but in case you haven't…”

Your heart pounded.

“Yes, I am Alastor Hartfelt, your husband. A denizen of Hell for decades now, though I have done well if I do say so for myself. I am a Demon Overlord, the Radio Demon. The year, I believe, was 2024 when I last checked.”

2024?!?

Alastor whistled lowly from your shoulder as you gaped in disbelief at the Radio Demon in front of you.

Was he really saying that he came back in time by almost a century?! 

How was any of this even possible?

“You shouldn't be this baffled, Darling.” Alastor spoke, moving from your shoulder to kiss your cheek. “I, too, would do anything to find my way back to you, even break the laws of time and space. So why wouldn't my future dead self do the same?”

Wait.

“Am I not there with you?”

The Radio Demon chuckled, his hand now affectionately caressing the side of your face. “Perhaps you missed the part about my being in Hell?” His hand slowly slid down your body to your hip, causing you to shiver. “My darling Doe, you do not reside in Hell and have no place in it.”

A sudden surge of bravery rushed through you. “Then why are you there? You're a good man, Alastor! A perfect husband! Why would you get sent to… to Hell?!”

Alastor tightened his arms around you from behind and the Radio Demon squeezed down on your hip at the question.

“The spell will only last for the night as long as the moon is full on Earth.” The Radio Demon’s smile looked tense and his fangs were gritting. “I would much prefer getting reacquainted with my lovely wife than with frivolous chatter.”

And even if he did answer, he did not intend to leave your memories of this night intact.

This was not his preferred method, but he knew his Y/N would not let the topic of either Alastor’s fate go, so there was no other choice lest he allow the night waste away.

Alastor caught the eye of his past human self and nodded, having discussed this back at the shed where they had met as a possible option should it need to be one.

It was crude and vulgar, but Alastor was desperate with the need to touch your flesh once more and if he had to kick start things with a light aphrodisiac (one not made by the Vees), he would.

Your Alastor slowly reached into his pocket, slipping out a vial of clear liquid. He carefully uncapped it while you trembled against him, repeating your question in apparent shock at the knowledge that your husband was destined for Hell.

“Ma chérie.” Your Alastor turned you to face him before he downed the contents of the vial and immediately kissed you after. He glanced up to see his demon self step up behind you, caging you in between them so you could not back away from his kiss.

You let out a strange noise, feeling Alastor's tongue swipe in your mouth as you unconsciously opened your lips for him and a sweet liquid seeped in that you had no choice but to swallow.

Oh.

You were suddenly warm.

Your body was hot.

Your nerves felt like they were on fire.

“W-w-what’s this?” You babbled, completely forgetting about Hell as you began to ache between your legs, “H-hah…”

“It’s alright, Darling.” Alastor was quick to come to your comfort, rubbing your shoulders and even that innocent touch sent sparks of pleasure straight down to your core. “Just let it happen and everything will be fine.”

“I must admit, it is not my proudest idea.” The Radio Demon seemed to sigh from behind you, his large claw-tipped hands back firmly on your hips. “Surely you understand, my little Doe, that it needed to be done. You were much too tense and I only have hours to spare.”

Your head was fuzzy and you honestly did not understand a damn word of what either Alastor was saying.

You just wanted relief and the ache to leave.

“Don't worry your pretty little head about anything right now.” Alastor cooed, “I would take care of you, but I'm sure our guest here has been waiting for so very long now.” He smirked. “I'll join in a little later.”

“I can smell you, my dear.” The Radio Demon purred, his hands moving from your hips as he ran a single claw up the side of your dress, ripping through it with ease and you could not find it in yourself to care about the ruined dress at the moment. “You're dripping. Naughty girl.”

Had you been in your right mind, you would have been completely embarrassed by such a thing, and you let out a pathetic little whine when the Radio Demon began to kneel in front of you, with his massive hands gripping your soft inner thighs.

Your underwear was ripped off a second later and you did not see the Radio Demon pocketing the arousal-soaked cloth before he turned back to you.

“Ah, it's been decades since I've eaten one in this way.” The Radio Demon hummed, releasing one thigh to slowly slide his hand up to your leaking core. He found your clit with ease, slowly rubbing circles with the pad of his thumb, extremely mindful of his claw, “Though, of course, you are the only one I have done such things with.”

You cried out at the touch, feeling like a jolt of electricity had just run through you. “P-please!” You sniffled, unsure what to call this being - Alastor or Radio Demon?

The Radio Demon grinned up at you and you were too lost in arousal to flinch back at the sight of those fangs, “Please what, my little fawn? Use your words.”

“Eat me.”

The Radio Demon groaned. “You know me too well without even seeing the entire picture.” He surged forward, abandoning your clit momentarily to part your folds before taking in a deep intoxicated breath.

You bit down on your hand, trying to keep your yelps and moans down as the Radio Demon shoved his face in your pussy, his rather long tongue fucking up into your soaked hole as his nose rubbed against your clit, sparking pleasureable warmth throughout your lower half. 

“Now, now. None of that.” Alastor came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and gently pulling your hand away from your mouth. “I– we both want to hear you.”

The Radio Demon crooned, pressing his face closer, feeling his wife tremble against him, “That's it. Cum on my tongue. I would like to get to the main course as quickly as possible.”

You shook, feeling Alastor's hands cup your breasts, pinching and rubbing your nipples as he nibbled on the lobe of your ear while the Radio Demon slurped your slick and suckled your sensitive nub.

A strangled sound left you when one of Alastor’s hands trailed down your side, sliding down your stomach before he slid a finger into your soaking cunt, bending his finger just so he would hit that spot that had you seeing stars and cumming far too early to be normal after a few more jabs to that spot.

The Radio Demon eagerly lapped up your gush of slick, not stopping even as you began to shudder from overstimulation.

“Does it feel good, chérie?” Alastor asked with a flush rising on his own face as his wife writhed in his hold while the Radio Demon did not relent in his own assault. He humped up against you, reaching down to his belt and zipper to free his aching cock. 

“S'good.” You slurred, panting when you felt Alastor slide in another finger, scissoring them to stretch you. “Alastor.” You sighed, leaning against him as you reached down.

“You needn't worry about me.” Alastor inhaled sharply once you wrapped your soft hands around his length. “Darling, this is about you.”

“I want you.” You moaned, your fingers fondling the head of his cock, spreading his precum down the length of his shaft. “I-if he really is you,” it took everything out of you just to string a coherent sentence together, “I want you both.”

“You heard our darling little Doe.” The Radio Demon finally pulled away from your cunt as he eyed his past mortal self, “As much as I hunger to do so, I cannot prepare Y/N properly without the potential of injury.”

Just a glance towards those sharp claws was an answer enough.

Alastor wasted no time and pushed in a third finger, jamming them against that sweet spot of yours and you cried out, no longer able to focus on your husband’s pleasure, though he did not mind at all.

 “What a face you’re making, Darling,” he murmured into your ear, “Not a single thought in your head, is there? Are you drooling on yourself?” His eyes darkened as his sadistic side began to show and, finally, he was able to slide in a fourth finger, “Do you know how fucked out you look right now? If that wasn’t me in front of you, I would have had to kill him for seeing you like this.”

It was fine, saying such things as you were not coherent enough to even understand him right now and the Radio Demon would take your memories of this night away anyway.

“Four fingers? My my, how debauched you are, my sweet Doe.” The Radio Demon was at your other ear, whispering just as filthy things as Alastor was, “You can take it, can’t you? You are my– our wife, after all. All you need to do is let go and cum on your husband’s fingers and then you can have all the cock you want, for the rest of the night.” He reached down, finding your clit and only needing to stroke the bud twice before you reached your high.

Your mouth could not even form words as your wet slick pussy contracted rhythmically around Alastor’s fingers, trying to milk them as you blacked out for the briefest of moments. Your limbs were like jelly and the only reason you did not collapse was because Alastor had propped you against his body.

“Still in there, my love?” Alastor patted your sweaty face, smiling when your glazed eyes fluttered open and you whimpered when he slowly pulled his fingers from your sopping hole, “You’ve done wonderfully thus far.”

“I–” It took so much just to think, “I want to–to…” Why couldn’t you think of the words to say? Your body was still burning even after cumming twice and that felt a bit frightening to you.

“As I said, you don’t need to worry about me. I have you to myself every night.” Alastor repeated, glancing over your head, allowing a lazy smirk to appear on his face, “But if you really want to repay the favour, I’m sure our guest would be delighted.” He just shrugged when the Radio Demon narrowed his red eyes at him.

You turned your head and peered timidly at the Radio Demon. The static in the air seemed to grow louder the longer you stared and his smile only seemed to stretch even wider.

“I'll even help you.” Alastor wrapped an arm around your waist and slung your arm around his shoulders, making sure you were steady, even as your legs shook like a newborn fawn’s as he guided you to stand in front of the Radio Demon.“Here you are.” He was quick to remove his overcoat, placing it on the floor for the comfort of his dear wife’s knees.

“This is unnecessary.” The Radio Demon stated, though the changes to his body said differently – his sclera turning pitch black, his antlers quickly extending outwards. He had to forcibly stop his body from growing larger, knowing his wife's human body would not be able to take anymore than what he was now.

“Please.” You kneeled in front of the Radio Demon, still a bit wary of him, but the aphrodisiac still running through you won over anything else, “You… you're still my Alastor, right?” Your hands shook as you attempted to loosen the belt of the Radio Demon.

“Yes, in life and in death. I am always yours.” The Radio Demon's usual filtered tone disappeared for a moment as he ripped off his belt with ease and he pulled his pants down low enough that his cock could spring free.

You leaned into him, feeling his hands run through your hair in a gentle gesture before they were gone from your head. You straightened on your knees, reaching up and feeling yourself jump a little in shock the moment you realized you couldn't fully wrap your hand around the Radio Demon's cock.

Was everything that much bigger when one was sent to Hell?

“Think nothing of it, my little Doe.” The Radio Demon cooed down at you, “I am completely content if you only wish to suck on my cock - the part that fits in your sweet little mouth, that is. I will not fuck your throat.”

The dull ache between your legs seemed to roar back to life at his words and you moved forward, opening your mouth, feeling the Radio Demon step a little closer until the head of his cock was resting on your tongue.

Your lips closed around his glans, your tongue prodded at the slit and you heard the Radio Demon growl as the static grew louder. Your head moved forward, wondering how much you could fit in your mouth before you started gagging.

“No, no.” Large hands on each side of your head stopped you from going further, “Do not test my self control, my dear. I said you may only suck. You are much too fragile for me to fuck that delicate throat of yours.”

You look up at the Radio Demon, barely noticing in your lustful haze that his pupils have shifted into a shape that resembled radio dials as you tightened your lips around the impressive cock in your mouth and sucked hard.

It was utterly obscene and Alastor watched with fascination as large amounts of saliva seeped from the crevices from your lips to drool down all over the Radio Demon's shaft, your jaw and chin, only to land on your chest in sticky globs. The static from the Radio Demon could not drown out the sloppy wet slurps of your tongue.

“That's it. Thaaaat's it.” The Radio Demon purred, “Such a lovely wife I have, so willing to suck the cock of her demon husband. Even wanting me to fuck my cock down her throat. How filthy! Are you truly that desperate for my seed? Suck harder, my dear.”

You tried, tightening your lips, hollowing your cheeks and sucking as best as you could until your jaw ached. You wanted to bob your head to make it a little easier, but the Radio Demon’s hands made it impossible to move. You began to hum, hoping the vibrations would aid you in getting him off.

“My sweet fawn. So depraved, just for me. Salivating all over yourself like a dog to please me.” One of his hands moved down to stroke at your cheek. “You are doing exceptionally well, such a good girl for me. Keep your mouth open.”

Your face burned at the Radio Demon’s words as you gasped for air when he pulled back from you, though you kept your mouth slack as he asked and found yourself shuddering when thick loads of cum landed on your tongue and didn’t seem to stop.

The Radio Demon watched with greedy eyes as you struggled with the volume of his seed, having to swallow a few times over and even then, remnants dripped off your lips towards your chest, “I should punish you for wasting a part of me that no other will ever have, my dear, but there is no time for that this night.” His grin widened, “Perhaps, should the spell work on the next full moon…” He tucked himself back into his pants, though didn't bother zipping them back up.

“I admit I never thought I would witness such a sight.” Alastor stepped forward from his position of observation, kneeling down as he reached for his handkerchief from his pocket and began to gently wipe your face from the cum and drool. “I certainly was not opposed to it.” He said quickly to reassure you when your eyes seemed to widen.

The Radio Demon did mention that the aphrodisiac would wear off once you took semen in your body. How fast it would diminish depended on how much semen you took in, in a certain amount of time.

“While I’m sure our guest appreciated the appetizers, I’m sure he is starved for the main course.” Alastor uncaringly tossed the dirtied handkerchief to the floor, helping you stand. “We would be such rude hosts to make him wait any longer.”

“I– of course.” You replied, looking towards the Radio Demon with a little less hesitancy than before, “You know where our… our bedroom is?” You asked almost shyly.

“I remember every single detail of this house as if I lived in it just yesterday,” The Radio Demon’s smile softened for a split second before it sharpened once more and he offered you his hand, “Shall we, then? You may want to close your eyes for this.”

You took it reluctantly, unsure what he meant by that last statement. You felt Alastor rub your back as he nestled you up to his side and you let out a shocked gasp as you all seemed to sink down in the floor into a void of black before emerging only a moment later right in front of your bed, “W-what was that!?” Your nerves weren’t burning as hot as they were earlier, but that strange sensation certainly was not helping your dizzied mind.

“Fascinating.” Alastor simply said under his breath.

“Instant shadow travel.” The Radio Demon answered nonchalantly, “It really is nothing to be impressed by.” He turned back to you, not wanting you to get distracted now that your mind was a bit clearer, “Darling Y/N, why don’t I show you how much I truly missed you over the decades?”

Your eyes unconsciously teared up at that.

The Radio Demon stalked forward, forcing you backward until your back hit the mattress. He took in the lovely sight of his wife spread on what used to be his bed before he was caging you in with his much larger body, “Every single night, whether or not I sleep, I think of you, dream of you. How exasperating that I still pine for you even after all these years, but I suppose you were the only one I felt any affection for – l̵̨͔̗̩̯̮͔̜̋̎́̃̐ͩ̓ͦo̿͂v̸̷̳̬̭̝͔͍͙͈̇̌̈́͟e̞̰̩̋̂̚͝ even – after Mother died.”

He could confess this much, as you would not remember this when it was time for him to leave.

“So you really are me.” Alastor murmured from the side of the bed, slowly undoing his tie, “That’s right. Y/N was there from the start – what do the masses call it, childhood lovers or such nonsense? It was only Y/N. None other would do.” He almost scoffed at his next thought. “Maybe soulmates do exist after all.”

“If you really are Alastor,” your arms rose and you placed your hands on both sides of his face and his entire expression softened and his smile wobbled, “then I'm so sorry that I'm causing you any pain.” A tear slid down your face from your already watery eyes. “I'm sure there are many…uhh, demons who are interes–” A claw-tipped finger pressed against your lips, cutting you off from what you were about to say.

“Even parted, what remains of my cold dead heart still beats for you, my lovely wife. I will never stray.” The Radio Demon leaned down to lick the tear from your cheek, causing you to shudder.

“Even if we wanted to fool around,” Alastor was now unbuttoning his shirt, taking his time to undress, “which, Darling, I can assure you, we do not, our bodies are simply not interested in any other. Woman, man – it doesn't matter how attractive they may be, if it's not you, I cannot get aroused. I'm sure it's the same for our guest.”

You felt your face flush and wanted to hide from the embarrassingly sweet words, but you were trapped under the Radio Demon, who was staring down intently at your reaction.

“You know I love you, Alastor! I have since we were children!” You tried to cover your face, but the Radio Demon grasped your wrists before you could.

He settled more on top of you, aligning your lower bits as he ground his clothed erection against your slick sensitive skin. “Say it again.” He groaned, “Say it.”

The static was almost deafening now.

“Best do what he asks, Darling.” Alastor was now removing his pants, having moved to the top of the bed so he could observe his wife's expression. “I'll never tire of hearing it either.”

“I love you, Alastor. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you!” Your face was burning red as the Radio Demon reached down to fish his cock free from his unzipped pants, “Not even death can do us part!”

That had been the one line you and Alastor had changed at your wedding, but…

“You don't belong in Hell, my sweet fawn.” The Radio Demon grasped your hip and gripped the base of his cock, your legs spreading as he rubbed his shaft through your creamy folds, causing you to shiver and moan, “While I may crave your presence every day, I prefer to know that you are safe where you belong.”

Your head tossed to the side as the Radio Demon slowly began to penetrate you and your eyes opened in surprise when you felt lips pressing against yours. “Alastor?” You panted, feeling your silky walls being stretched more than they ever have before. He was bigger than anything you had ever taken before.

“You will adjust in a few moments, ma cher. It won't hurt or feel uncomfortable for much longer.” Alastor stated, staring at the scene in front of him and feeling a heat settle deep under his stomach.

He wanted to join, but he did not want to push his dear wife any further than you were comfortable with. Plus, you and he had never ventured to that area before either.

The Radio Demon’s eyes glanced up at Alastor for a brief moment before setting down back onto you as he finally slid in all the way to the hilt, “Fuck, I haven't even moved yet and you're already clenching down on me so tightly.”

“S'big!” You almost felt like you were being split in two and you whined when the Radio Demon slowly withdrew, caressing every sensitive spot before he swiftly thrust back in, “HAH!” You were seeing stars as he found a rhythm, “S'good!”

Alastor watched with slight envy, but it quickly changed to confusion when the Radio Demon gave him some sort of look before focusing back on you.

Was he supposed to know what that meant?

It was only a few seconds later that a long black tentacle-like appendage snapped out of the Radio Demon's back and Alastor found himself surprised for the nth time that night, even by this point, he shouldn't be.

It seemed that you were already too fucked out again to notice the extra appendage as the Radio Demon flipped you over to your stomach, positioning you on all fours as he maneuvered over top of you, pressing his chest to your back as his hips thrust blindly, seeking your warm wet hole.

He used the lone tentacle (that you still have yet to notice, but you would very shortly) to wrap around his length, guiding it back to your slick cunt. He growled, loud static popping in the air, drool dripping off his fangs as he humped you like the deer he resembled.

You are so lost in pleasure, gasping and wheezing, that it takes a few moments for you to realize that there's something prodding you back there, “W-wha?” You swallow thickly, feeling something cool circle and lightly push at your other hole, causing you to flinch, “W-what is that? Alastor?” You whimper.

It took a second for the Radio Demon to come to his senses, especially when you were squeezing down so tightly on his cock. “My little Doe, it must be done if you wish to take both of us. Surely you want that. It's not often one can fuck two forms of their spouse at the same time.” The tentacle began to breach the rim of your second hole and you let out pained noise.

Alastor moved on the bed, stroking your hair and kissing your temple, “I know, Darling, I know.” He reached underneath you when the Radio Demon resumed his crude humping, finding your clit with a bit of difficulty due to the constant rocking. “If you truly do need to stop, say ‘jambalaya’ and we will.”

This was for Alastor and a few minutes of total discomfort should not stop you.

“How's it feel?” Alastor asked, curious as he had never touched that area before.

“H-hah,” you felt sweat drip down your face, trying to answer your husband’s question, but the sensations of the Radio Demon's cock hitting every sensitive spot in your sloppy cunt, Alastor’s fingers strumming along your puffy clit, and the slippery tentacle now an inch or two in, squirming against the walls of your ass?

You crumbled.

“Fuck!” The Radio Demon snarled, halting his movements as he felt you cumming hard around him. His ears twitched at the sound of your wailing and he summoned another tentacle out of his back, using it to hold your shaking body up against his as he clenched his hands in the sheets below, claws easily ripping through the material.

As he completely avoided any sexual activity during his time in Hell, the Radio Demon found he was a lot more sensitive than he recalled and simply having you suck him for a few moments and cumming once on his cock was enough for him to lose it.

It took all of his self control to not finish so early as he focused on his tentacles and stretching your other hole slowly but surely.

Alastor watched with exhilaration that he only experienced when he was pounding you into the bed, or watching the life fade out of the eyes out of some degenerate after hunting them down, and after your keening quieted down, he found himself surprised that he was stroking himself, something he never partook in.

“Do you think you are able to take me, my love?” Alastor asked after a moment of allowing you to catch your breath, though you still looked a little out of it, still caged under the Radio Demon’s much larger body – looking helpless, small, and stuffed full of cock.

He needed to stuff you with more.

“I… I think? Maybe?” You lifted your head to look at Alastor, watching him smile at you and you bit your lip when you felt that strange appendage slowly pull out of your ass and you grimaced at the sudden feeling of emptiness?

The Radio Demon squeezed your hips and also pulled out of you, sitting you on the bed as he snapped his fingers and you jumped, feeling your body tingle for a second before it disappeared and you felt strangely lighter, “W-what was that?” You asked as he snapped his fingers again and a small bottle appeared in his hand out of nowhere

“I cleansed you,” The Radio Demon simply stated, not wanting to get into the finer details of anal sex and embarrass you, “You will need this, my dear. Use as much as you need.” He handed his past self the bottle and eyed him expectantly.

“Extra lubrication.” Alastor said, snapping the lid open and squeezing it out on his fingers, rubbing them together experimentally, “It’s needed so I don’t, well… tear anything.” He grasped your hand, unfolding it. “Aid me, won’t you, Darling?” His voice grew a little sultry as he squeezed the lube out on your hand.

You flushed, reaching down as your hand wrapped around Alastor’s cock, trying to spread the lube evenly as you jerked his shaft, causing him to sigh with contentment, feeling your hand glide smoothly, “I believe that’s enough. Your turn. Turn around for me and either lie down on your stomach or get on all fours – whichever is more comfortable for you.”

You say Alastor’s eyes flash and knew what position he would prefer, but despite your embarrassment, you got on all fours like you knew he wanted and you spread your legs as much as you could.

“Bear with it.” Alastor felt his heart race as your head lowered when he squeezed the lube out and you shivered when you felt his slick fingers begin to prod at your ass, passing the tight rim after a few nudging of his fingers.

It still felt strange, but Alastor tried to make up for it with slow firm thrusts and filthy words.

“Darling, I know you will feel so good squeezed around me. I never imagined you would be so receptive to the idea. I can’t wait to see what sort of face you will make this time for me. Taking both of our cocks at once, perhaps you will cum so hard, you will soak the sheets? Forget your own name?”

You whined, feeling your face flame.

“I have done what I can to prepare you.” Alastor removed his fingers from your back hole, “Now go over to our guest. I believe you will have to ride him in order for this to work.”

The Radio Demon's smile seemed to twitch at Alastor's remark, but he did lean back and prop himself against the pillows so you were able to straddle him – which you only did so after a pause from you and a nod from him.

“Not yet, my dear, though I appreciate the enthusiasm.” The Radio Demon chuckled, stopping you from gripping him and just sliding down his cock, “It's best for my past self to go first.”

Alastor moved over to you, stroking your back in a soothing manner, “Remember what to say if you want to stop.” He said with a slight frown and it lifted when you repeated ‘jambalaya’ back to him, “I'll go slow.” He gripped himself, watching as the Radio Demon oh-so kindly spread you (and you letting out a cute squeak) and he lowered himself until he felt skin on skin.

You tensed, trying best to calm down when felt the head of his cock prod at your ass, just resting there until you relaxed enough that he could press forward. “Haahhmmm.” Strange noises escaped you as Alastor slowly proceeded, stopped, rocked back and forth a few times, before repeating.

“My little Doe, breathe.” The Radio Demon trailed his hands down your sides, moving towards your dripping core to find your aching clit to help alleviate any discomfort with pleasure, “It won't be long now, my dear. You will be, as an effeminate fellow acquaintance of mine likes to say, ‘cockdrunk’ soon enough.”

You groaned, not only from the Radio Demon's words, but from feeling full. Yet you felt empty at the same time as your pussy clenched nothing but air.

Arms wrapped around you from behind as Alastor buried his head in your shoulder, breathing hard while sweat dripped off his face. “Shit.”

You were so fucking tight – to the point he ridiculously feared you might squeeze his cock right off.

“Prepare yourself.” The Radio Demon purred, lining his length up with your dripping cunt, “Or perhaps you needn't to. There won't be a single thought in that pretty little head of yours.” And with that, he thrust in carefully, knowing he and his past self had to find a rhythm that would not cause their wife any pain.

“A-Al–” You mewled, feeling tears forming in the corners of your eyes, “A-Ala–” You couldn't even talk straight anymore.

Alastor grit his teeth, thrusting in when the Radio Demon pulled back. His wife was tight, hot, and he could feel the Radio Demon through the thin membrane.

He wasn't going to last long.

“Such a perverse wife I have! Tell me, how does fucking two cocks at once feel?” The Radio Demon's smile turned sadistic, seeing that you couldn't even comprehend his question and his hand came up to wipe the drool seeping from your mouth and watched with satisfaction as your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he began circling your clit, “Are you going to cum, my dear? Should I allow it?”

You babbled nonsense, not hearing a word anyone was saying as you were sandwiched between your present husband and his future demon self and only able to focus on the molten heat in your core.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Both were big (though the Radio Demon was bigger in that department), so with every thrust, they hit every spot that brought stars to your closed eyes.

Someone was rubbing circles on your slick clit and the other was fondling your breasts. Teeth nibbled at the lobe of your ear and sharp fangs and a long tongue were dragging along your skin dangerously close towards your throat.

It was the hand that pressed down hard on your pelvis that had you come undone.

Were you screaming? You didn't know as the world blurred and you could feel nothing but ecstasy shoot through every part of your trembling body and the afterpangs were just as pleasant to feel as you slumped down, barely even conscious after the many orgasms you had experienced that night.

“Fuck!” The Radio Demon knew he would not be able to stave off this as your vevelty walls clamped down on his cock and he looked down in shock, unconsciously licking his lips when he noticed you were squirting all over him.

This sight alone had him shooting spurt after spurt of ejaculate into your gushing pussy.

Alastor simply observed all this happen, having pulled halfway out of your ass so he could wrap his hand around the base of his cock to delay his orgasm, though he no longer needed to. 

He released his hand, thrusting forward as deep he could go in your ass. He was already on the edge, waiting to tip over and just the tightness of your anal walls squeezing him was enough to send him over, shooting his load of cum into you with a satisfied groan.

Both you and Alastor collapsed on the bed as the Radio Demon shifted so there was more room, though after a brief moment of silence other than heavy breathing, both males looked towards you as they grudgingly pulled out of you, eyeing the leaking mess they made of you with fervor.

You only had so much stamina however.

And–

“You did so well, my love.” Alastor brushed your hair from your face, kissing your temple when you attempted to focus your glazed eyes towards him, “Only you could satisfy us so.” He lightly pinched your cheek to keep you awake when they began fluttering.

A glass of water appeared in the Radio Demon’s hand as he sat up, propping your back up against his chest as he brought the glass up to your lips and tilted your head up, “Don’t drink it too fast, my dear.” He instructed, appeased when you slowly swallowed the water down and he vanished the glass, relishing the feel of your skin against his.

It was time for him to leave.

“My sweet wife, it took me decades to find the spell so I could see you again,” the Radio Demon stated and he felt you stiffen against him, “I am uncertain if it will work again or if this was a one time occurrence, but know that this night was to my utmost delight. I must say, simply seeing your lovely face satisfied me as much as–m̨̻̪̣̹̙̰̦͇̏͒̅͒ͪ͝ơ̧̛̛̗͍̝̣̜̺͉̜̜̩̥̈́̋ͫ̌̽͐̅̔̍̋́́̏̇ͧ̀͘͘̚͜͜͢͝ŕ̛̝̺̖̬̰ͫͨ̆͌͛̾ͭ̈̾̉̌ͯ͞e̸̙͕̯̻̘͈̋ͩ̑ͦ́͟ ţ̶̟̯̻̘͍͓̯̈̂h̿ͮ͘a̶̸̲̣͖̻̦̜ͯ̉͌ͣ͂̈́͞n͙̳̍ͫ–the screams of the souls I rip apart on my broadcasts all over Hell!”

What?

“You’re leaving?” The Radio Demon’s words snapped you to attention in more than one way, but you put those rather disturbing words aside for that moment to focus on his departure. 

Your mind was clear and your body was no longer burning and you should be honestly terrified that there was a demon from Hell wrapped around you now that you could think straight, but he was still your husband.

He was still Alastor.

“Regretfully so.” The Radio Demon gently removed you from himself, standing from the bed as you stared at him with those wide eyes of yours. He snapped his fingers, fixing his appearance to his usual pristine condition and dressing you and Alastor with a second snap, causing you and his past self to jump in shock to his amusement.

“But…” You bit your lip, feeling it wobble as you looked between the Radio Demon and Alastor, “Why… why are you in Hell? You never told me.” Your voice started to crack.

Alastor clenched his fists and looked away from you and the Radio Demon’s static grew louder at the question, “I am certain you will find out the reason why in the future.” After all, he did leave you a widow after his unexpected and pathetic death and it most certainly got out how he brutally murdered and engaged in occasional cannibalism – he just had no idea how you felt about him after that all came to be.

Did you still love him afterwards as you lived the rest of your mortal life?

Did you still love him in Heaven as an angel?

“I told you, Alastor,” you seemed to notice the tone in the Radio Demon’s filtered voice, “I love you, since we were children. Not even death can do us part.”

Alastor inhaled sharply and the Radio Demon eyed him for a second before turning back to you, “If this spell does not work for the next full moon on Earth, I must bid you adieu.” He moved forward, bending down to press a kiss against your forehead.

There was a flash of green light and you fell forward, unconscious and memories of the night gone. 

The Radio Demon caught you, stroking your side before placing you on the bed and turned to his past self, his smile tightening.

“Well, what an interesting night this has been!” Alastor tilted his head, appearing thoughtful, “I admit I never believed in Heaven or Hell, but clearly I was wrong about that. Good to know that Mother is where she belongs and that I will kill that wretch of a man all over again.”

“His screams of agony were most entertaining. Why, I could listen to them over and over again and never tire of them!” The Radio Demon let out a puff of amusement, fondly remembering torturing the man whom he once had to call ‘father’.

“I suppose if that spell of yours works again, you’ll be a familiar face here every full moon?” Alastor asked casually, “I’m not opposed.” 

The Radio Demon held out his hand, much to Alastor’s surprise, “Yes, I would. Just a friendly shake, no deal here. I don’t think I can take my own soul.”

Alastor took the Radio Demon’s hand after a moment of hesitation, shaking it firmly before his eyes widened as the same green light flashed and, he too, fell forward, unconscious with his memories of the night gone.

“I can’t have you dragging our lovely wife into your depraved acts now. I saw how Y/N’s words affected you.” The Radio Demon placed his past self on the bed beside you, staring at the couple, “Our darling Doe doesn’t belong in Hell. I would like to keep it that way.”

He vanished with the moonlight.

[douceurrrr]

𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 | 𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐲

— the nerd with the big cock finally loses his virginity

warnings | unedited raw material, face fucking, spanking, doggy,fingering, breeding, first time, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!)

a/n | inspired by this audio link

you agreed to study this big test with ethan because he said that he knows a good way to study for the test and to be honest you didn’t really know how to study for the test, it was just too much to study but ethan insisted on helping you. ethan didn’t know where he found the balls to ask you to come over to his dorm to study but he did not thinking you were going to come anyways, a girl like you would never be around a guy like him he thought.

meanwhile ethan is chilling in his dorm until he heard a knock on his door, he walks over and opens it to see you with two binders labeled biochemistry on them. “oh hi, I didn’t really think you were going to come.” he sounded so surprised. “I needed help, didn’t i?” you replied with a smirk, letting yourself look behind him and in his dorm, you could tell he was very neat and clean. “I know you said you needed help studying but I didn’t think you would actually show up.” he nervously chuckled with his hand behind his head.

“are you busy or something? because I can totally come another ti-”

“no!”ethan cuts you off but instantly speaks again. “I mean no, you’re fine, I’m so happy you’re here.” he says, daydreaming a bit but realizes that you were still standing there. “oh sorry, please come in.” he says, stepping aside to let you in. “my uh roommate, chad isn’t here so it’s just us.” ethan says.

“chad as in meeks?” ethan rolled his eyes knowing he instantly lost a chance to hook up with you. “I know, it’s such a coincidence that they put the jock and the nerd together.” he huffed making you laugh a bit which was all he wanted to hear. “but in all seriousness my roommate is nice, he’s just never here.” ethan explains.

“oh um I’m sorry these dorms are so damn small, you can sit on my desk and I’ll sit on the couch?” ethan says making his way to the couch, his curls bouncing with each step. “actually I think I should sit next to you?” you wanted to be closer to ethan. “oh yeah sure, you can sit next to me if you want.” ethan replied with hope still in his mind that you are the slightest bit of attracted to him.

“yeah I forgot my laptop.” ouch that hurt. “oh yeah you want to sit next to me so we can share my laptop.” he nods as the hope that he had vanished but actually you just wanted to be close to him. you move next to him on the couch, getting closer and closer so you can “see the screen”

as you got closer and closer ethan felt his cheeks heat up. “I’m sorry, am I too close?” you said with your eyelashes fluttering at him. “uhm no, get uh as close as you need to.” ethan says, stumbling over his words. after a couple of minutes of silence Ethan notices you shivering a little bit which made his heart swell up to the thought of your discomfort, it’s not like you can get anymore closer to him because you two were basically hip to hip. “hey are you cold- here let me just.” you felt a arm slide onto your shoulders making you warm up a bit.

“is this comfy?” ethan says, voice laced with concern. you nodded. silence washed over the two of you and you can’t bear the tension anymore so you did the unthinkable and placed your hand on ethan’s thigh, hoping you’ll get to your goal. ethan felt a hand on his thigh and instantly sucked in his breath at the feeling. “a-are you hands still cold or something b-because your hand is pretty close to my uh cock.” ethan stutters while staring at your hand that was close to his erection.

“I’m sorry, is this fine?” you replied, acting like your gesture wasn’t intentional. “oh no no it’s fine it’s just uh your hand is pretty close to my erection a-and I don’t want it to uh shock you- oh now your touching it.” he says changing the subject once he felt you actually touch his bulge. ethan’s breathing starts to change and beads of sweat starts to form on his forehead. you see his facial expressions and instantly think that you fucked up, fuck he probably think I’m some sexual assaulter.

“t-that actually feels pretty good.” he breaths out and relief washes over you. you start to realize what you were feeling was pretty big making your eyes widen at the feeling. “a-all that is your erection?” no fucking way. “yes all that is my erection.” he replied with a gulp of his throat. then without thinking you asked, “c-can I see it?” ethan’s face turns beet red at your choice of words.

“y-you want to see it?” ethan says in disbelief. you just nod, not trusting your mouth anymore. “um well I guess you can see it.” he says, slightly nervous. he’s nervousness makes you a bit uneasy but it clicks in your brain, “are you a virgin?” ethan instantly babbles words. “what?! no I’m not completely a virgin.” what does he mean by “not completely a virgin”

“what do you mean by not completely a virgin?” you say, making air quotes with your fingers. “what do I mean? uh I uh tried with a few girl but uh my dick is just so big that I could never get more than just the tip in.” right when he said that you bursted out laughing. “are your joking?” you laughed while ethan says “no I’m not joking- why are you laughing.” you thought ethan was trying to be cocky with you but he wasn’t joking the slightest.

“so im not a virgin, s’just no one has been able to take it all before but uhm you still want to see it?” ethan says with you following with a nod. ethan puts his hand on his belt but pauses to say one more thing, “just don’t laugh, m’kay?” ethan says waiting for a confirmation, you mumbled something along the lines of scouts honor then tells him to get on with it. the sounds of a buckle unbuckling fills your ear as you watch ethan unbuckle his pants, he lift his hips to shove down his pants but waits a little to pull down his boxers, he takes off his boxers, he’s cock springs out of his boxers on it's own, slapping the skin of his stomach, you stared in awe.

“don’t laugh.” he says but noticed your lack of words, he’s huge. “s-see this is why I knew this wasn’t going to be a good idea.” ethan says and start to pull his boxers back up only for you to quickly stop him. your next words blows him away (pun intended) “I want to suck on it.” you say without thinking. “w-well you’re more than welcome to- AUH.” he didn’t have to tell you twice, your lips wrap around his head, sucking hard as your tongue flicks over his weeping slit. “oh god, you’re so good at that.” he groaned as you smirk up at him, before your head bobs down

“fuck that’s amazing.” he whimpers as the sounds of your mouth and spit clashing together fills the dorm room, thank god his roommate was away. “please don’t try to- shit- take it all.” ethan pleads. you then pulled away to let him know you were going to deepthroat him and of course he insisted that you shouldn’t. “it’s okay you don’t have t- SHIT.” you cut him off by pushing your head all the way down until your nose nestled against the light brown bush at his pelvis. his whimpers and moans increases every two seconds.

“f-fuck i can feel the back of your throat.” he grunts. every once in a while he’ll let out fuck baby or take that cock. later on you went to the extreme of fucking your face which he really insisted on not doing because he didn’t want to hurt you but soon enough he complied. “fuck you like this, don’t you?” you hun in response, sending vibrations through his cock making him extra simulation. soon enough his moans turns into m’gonna cum’s but you instantly stopped.

ethan eyes shot open. “why’d you stop, I’ve always wanted to cum down someone’s throat before.” he huffs in frustration but you had a better idea. “I want to sit on it.” you say, boldly. “oh? well uhm- no it’s just too big, I’ve tried this before and it’s just too big.” he says but you were already in the process of taking your pants off. “awe no don’t take your pants off, this is a bad idea but..” he trails off once he sees you bra. “well I guess you can try but s’just- just too bi- gosh you’re so wet.” you we’re fully naked next to him. “um before we start, can I just play with your pussy first?” he says softly while staring at you. you were sitting next to him with you legs apart, slightly leaned against the couch all comfortable.

“here- why don’t I just stroke my cock while I..” he trailes off to slide his his head down your stomach and onto your swelling clit. “you like that?” he says after hearing your whimpers followed with a nod. “I uh had to get good this- playing with the clit, swirling, flicking, rubbing so just uh lay your head on my shoulder.” he says and you complied, laying your head on his shoulder while he stroked his cock and play with your clit at the same time. soon enough he begins to slip a finger inside, saying how good it feels. “are you getting close? would two fingers help?” you instantly nod before his begins to slide another finger in but you needed more. “more please.” you whimpered.

“uhm you can try to get on it but I don’t th- FUCK.” you straddled him and guided his cock to you soggy cunt, pressing him in. you pussy sucks him in inch by inch. “just tell me if it’s too mu- holy shit it’s going all the way in fuck.” he watches as your pussy takes him whole and bottoms out. he babbles about how amazing you are as you start bouncing on him with a visible bulge poking out your belly. sounds of skin and fluids slapping together fills the room as your tits bounced in his face. his hands comes around to grab your ass and hips like he’s guiding you. “gosh you’re so beautiful- fuck.” he says before his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“yes yes yes fuck!” you yelped but still being mindful that you’re in a dorm. suddenly you feel ethan stop you. “wait wait, can we do it doggy, I want to see my dick going in and out of you.” his filthy words made your pussy clench making him wince. you gave him the okay and he turned you around on the couch. he aligned himself back to your pussy before pushing it in. “fuck you’re amazing.” he mumbled underneath his breath as he bottoms out. he grabbed your hips to start thrusting and you were close again. “fuck are you close again? please cum.” he pleads, bringing his hand around to play your clit to simulate you more. “shit ethan fuck!” you yell into the couch pillow which was muffling most of your cries. after a couple of good, pounding thrust a wave of ecstasy washes over you as ethan walks you through your orgasm with his along the way.

“fuck I’m close.” three words he thought he would never say with a girl. after two thrusts he cums in you, cum painting your walls. “I came in you, is that okay?” he says whilst trying to catch his breath. you couldn’t speak so you mumbled an uh uh of approval. he then turns you around and pulls you in a long awaited kiss with his hands around your waist and yours around his neck.

“be mine.” he whispered in you ear. you grinned.

-

[whiskersz]

I here you've never gotten a Sir Pentious request. What a coincidence, because I love Pentious and barely anyone writes for him. I'm starved 😭

Can I request some Sir Pentious x reader headcannons? Just general fluffy headconnons, how the 2 got together, what their relationship is like.

If not that is okay, thank you so much :)

Bestie, I literally flew to my desk when I saw this rq in my inbox. Technically they are closed but I really wanted to get something out for Pent because I was scrolling last night and noticed nobody writes for him??

Anyways, eat up!!

Sir Pentious x Reader Relationship Headcanons

In Hell

✭ You and Pentious were originally rivals, he didn’t loathe you as much as he did Alastor but he’d often challenge you to battles and you’d defeat him without fail. Things changes when the both of you got welcomed into Princess Charlie’s Hazbin Hotel; forced to make amends with each other and live together – with your room coincidentally ending up being the one next to his -, your opinion of each other quickly changed and you soon found out how much you really had in common.

✭ Now, you and Pentious can’t leave each other’s side. Or well, he can’t leave yours, with the excuse that he’s often cold and your body emanates the heat that he so much craves. This excuse often leads to the two of you sharing a bed, too, and you’ve come to find that he’s quite the cuddler! He loves nuzzling his face into your back and wrapping his arms around your waist, the lower part of his body also wrapped around one of your legs. This might be his favorite position, but as long as he’s close to you he doesn’t really mind which one you choose. At the beginning of your relationship he used to like feeling a bit more in control, always choosing to be the big spoon and to have your head against his chest, but with time one thing he’s learned about himself is that he’s...not all that dominant. He likes to be cuddled!

✭ He loves tea, and making it for you if you enjoy it too. Even better if it can be accompanied by cookies or pastries made by the two of you together! He’s grown quite fond of baking throughout his stay at the Hotel, and you absolutely adore watching him at work. Precise, neat, as if he was working on some kind of machinery; you guess the expertise he possesses in working on his inventions carried over in the kitchen.

✭ He also really enjoys compliments! He’s spent most of his time in Hell feeling like an utter failure, so whenever you compliment him it’s going to take a while for him to let it sink in and believe you. However he thinks that you’re the coolest and strongest demon around, so don’t think you can escape his compliments either!

✭ He loves calling you old-timey pet names; he will call you beloved, my dear, or even extra cheesy ones like the apple of his eye. His...multiple eyes... He also loves being called pet names by you, of course! If you call him things such as handsome he will outright melt.

The kisses shared between you are giggly and loving; your warm kisses are his home. While holding your face he’s always careful not to hurt you with his claws, opting to graze your skin gently. His hands might shake a little the first few times you kiss; just hold them and play with his fingers as he’s kissing you,

✭ Dates are a very serious thing for Sir Pentious! He loves getting dressed up for you, and seeing you getting dressed up for him. What he doesn’t love is the tedious search for a place that isn’t dangerous for you two to have your date at; Hell is not the perfect place for lovers. Once you’ve chosen your destination though, he’ll make sure to stay by your side all night, hissing at anyone who looks at you wrong.

In Heaven

✭ I wanted to dedicate some space to Angel Pentious too; if you do meet in Heaven, it would be through him getting assigned the house right next to yours. News spread fast and now everyone knows that one of Heaven’s newest residents used to be a demon down below. This would elicit stares and distrust from the other Angels, but you do believe that if he’s here now there must be a reason.

✭ So, as soon as you assume that he’s settled in, you show up at his door with a tray of freshly baked cookies. He welcomes you with a confused expression but, once he realizes your act of kindness, he quite literally bursts into tears. Cookies remind him of his friends, as they used to bake them together back in Hell...he misses their company so much, and now he’s finally got someone to keep him company in Heaven too. Little does he know that you’ll end up becoming his partner.

[explosionkatsu]

“Age doesn’t matter,” 18

Dad!Bakugo x F!Babysitter!Teacher!Reader

Part 17

“What?” You questioned a bit surprised.

“Oh! Sheesh! That’s not what I meant!” Eijiro panicked on the other line. “I-i mean can I ask you out? Aaahh!! No! That’s not it!”

“You want to ask if I can go out?” Y/n clarified, giggling a little.

“Yes!” Eijiro almost yelled. “Are you... Busy?”

“Haha. You’re lucky. I’m completely free all day.” Y/n smiled but was disappointed deep inside. “Why?”

“Oh. We’re heading to Bakubro. I was hoping you could come since the gang wanted to see you again.” Eijiro explained as he watches Denki and Sero browse in the aisle of foods along with Mina and Jiro.

“Gang? Won't I intrude on you guys?” Y/n asked nervously. She’s not that familiar with his friends, plus, she didn't expect them to be this friendly even though you’re just Kazui’s babysitter.

“What? No!” Eijiro said, surprised at what he heard. “You’re literally our friend now! We’ll just come and pick you up after we shop for a snack.”

“Hey, who was that?”

“Was that Miss Y/n? Say Hi to her for me!”

“Denki said hi, haha!” Eijiro chuckled, “So, you in?”

Y/n isn’t sure what to say. She felt like intruding. Half of her wanted to come, but the other half don’t because of this reason.

“Does Bakugo know?” Y/n asked before she respond to Eijiro’s offer.

“No. Haha! It's always a secret!” Eijiro giggled. “If we informed him we’ll come. He’ll just shoo us away!”

Now that’s tough. Coming over uninvited was not your thing. But then, it would be fun.

“I-i guess I could come with you guys,” Y/n responded but still unsure.

“Great!” Eijiro beamed. “Just send me your address since I kinda forgot where you live. Hahaha. We’ll be there at 4:30! See you, Miss Y/n!”

“Yeah. See you.” Y/n said ending the call.

Oh boy. This is going to be very awkward.

...

“Hey. After this, we’ll pick Miss Y/n.” Eijiro said and put his phone in his pocket. “She agreed to come with us.”

“Does she now?” Denki looked at Eijiro. “Man, I can’t wait to surprise Kacchan!”

“Ehh?? Miss Y/n you say?” Mina pipped in.

“Yeah. She’s been hanging out with Bakugo for a while now since she’s been taking care of Kazui, remember?” Eijiro said as he took a bag of chips and placed it in the cart.

“Really!? She’s the one who did the indirect kiss, right?!” Mina beamed excitedly. “I can't wait to see her again!” She giggled. “Jiro, you're going to love Miss Y/n!”

“I’ve been hearing a lot about this Miss Y/n,” Jiro said while walking side by side with Mina.

“She’s very pretty! A really nice woman as well!” Mina said merrily. “Oh! Let’s Kazui an orange juice!”

“I’m looking forward to it them.” Jiro smiled.

“Hey, Sero- Hold on.” Eijiro was about to ask Sero when his phone started vibrating.

He took it out of his pocket and checked the caller ID. It was Izuku. He placed his thumb on the answer button and placed his phone to his ear.

“Hey Midoriya, what’s up!” Eijiro answered.

“Hey, Kirishima.” Izuku greeted. “I was wondering if you’re on patrol today.”

“Uh, no. I’m actually with the gang. What’s up?” Eijiro responded.

“I was wondering if you wanted to join us with Shoto and the others. We’re heading to Kacchan’s,” Izuku said.

“Oh hey! What a coincidence! We’re heading there too!” Eijiro smiled finally heading towards the counter.

“Really? That’s great! We’ll see you there then. We bought a few snacks. Maybe we could have a small drink as well.” Izuku smiled and looked at Shoto who was driving.

“Sweet! We’ll see you there! Take care!” Eijiro smiled and ended the call. “Guys! Midoriya and the others are going to Bakubro as well!”

“Really?!”

“Oh, that's nice!”

“A get-together!!”

“Let’s hurry and pick Miss Y/n!”

...

“What to wear..” You ponder as you stared at your closet.

Casual? Maybe a pair of jeans and a shirt? What? No way. You’ll be with a bunch of heroes. You're quite sure they're wearing something neat and pricey since they are heroes. Well, money, duh?

What about a skirt? Long skirt? Maybe pair it with a fitted black shirt? Possible. A dress would be nice. Oohh. A sun dress? And white sneakers? Maybe?

“Ugh..” You pouted. “I've never had this dilemma before.”

In the end, you picked the white mini sundress you had and a pair of white sneakers and checked yourself in your mirror. It doesn't look bad. You thought.

After finalizing what to wear, you put on light makeup, brushed your (h/c) hair, and grab a purse.

“Almost done,” you mumbled to yourself.

Once finished, you checked every door, window, and outlet you had and finally checked the time. It was now 4:20. You’re a bit early, you thought. But the honking outside of your apartment says otherwise.

You left your apartment after double-checking the door if it was locked.

“Alright. Good to go,” you said and finally made your way to the car where Eijiro was smiling at you.

“You look very pretty today, Miss Y/n.” Eijiro smiled and unlocked the door to the front passenger seat. “Hop in.”

“Thank you.” You smiled back at Eijiro and went to the other side of the car and settled yourself on the seat.

“Hey Miss Y/n,” You heard, making you look at the back passenger seat where the heroes are seated.

“You’re looking extra pretty today.” Denki winked.

“Nice to see you again, Miss Y/n,” Sero smiled.

“Omg! You look so gorgeous! I love the dress! Tell me where you bought it when we get to Bakugo’s!” Mina exclaimed gaily.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Y/n,” Jiro said smiling at you.

“E-earphone Jack?” You stuttered, not believing what you are seeing.

“The only one.” Jiro giggled. “I’ve been hearing your name from these guys and it made me curious. It's really nice finally able to meet you.”

“W-wha. It's nice to see you i-in person!” You stuttered.

“Now, now, Miss Y/n. Get yourself together. You’ll meet a lot of other heroes as well.” Denki winked.

...

Ding dong

The sound that was heard in his home.

Katsuki didn't say a word and merely proceeded to the door. Unhurriedly, he unlocks the door, reached for the knob, and pulled the door open.

“Hey there, Kacchan!” Izuku greeted.

“Bakugo-san.” Momo bowed.

“Ara! Nice to see you again, Bakugo! Thank you for having us!” Ochako beamed.

“Friend,” Shot said, and bow down as well.

“Fuck off, Icyhot,” Katsuki said and walked away, leaving the door open for them.

“Whaa- it's been a while since I've last seen your house, Bakugo! It looks so luxurious!” Ochako wowed as she looks around Katsuki’s house.

“Everything did change,” Izuku said who was also looking around the house.

“Bakugo-san. We bought food. I hope it's okay.” Momo smiled while Shot was looking around as well.

“Go put it in the kitchen. Use whatever the fuck you want as long as you won't destroy anything. Clean after the mess you made.” Katsuki said while sitting on his sofa and watching the news.

And there he said he knows how to treat guests.

Anyway.

“Oh. By the way, Kacchan.” Izuku called out as he slowly approached Katsuki and sat on the opposite sofa.

“The fuck is it now, nerd?” Katsuki almost snarled.

“Kirishima and the others are on their way here as well.” Izuku smiled. “We wanted to-

“What?!” Katsuki roared making him stand up from his seat.

“Here we go,” Ochako whispered from the kitchen as she watches them.

“The fuck are you people planning?! A party?! In my house!? Oh hell no!” Katsuki yelled obviously pissed.

Izumi only sweat dropped, obviously used to this kind of outburst from his childhood friend. “Well, they did say-

Ding dong

Both heroes looked at the door.

“That must be them. I’ll go get it.” Izuku said slowly standing up and heading to the door to open it.

Katsuki just scowled as he watches Izuku opening the door, revealing no other than Eijiro and indeed, the gang.

“Midoriya!” Eijiro smiled and walked in.

“Kirishima.” Midoriya greeted.

“Hey there number 1.” Denki winked getting in.

“Izuku-chaaann!” Mina hugged Izuku before getting in.

“Heya Midoriya.” Sero pat midoriya's shoulder and when in.

“Hey there, Midoriya.” Jiro smiled and went in as well.

Y/n though was stuck standing in front of the door not knowing what to do.

“Oh. Are you a new friend?”

...

“Sorry, we invited ourselves, Bakubro,” Eijiro said scratching the back of his head.

Katsuki only glared at them.

“Jiro?”

Jiro looked behind her only to see Momo emerging from the kitchen. “Momo! I didn't know you’d be here!” She said and went to her side.

“Whoa. Are you guys cooking something? That's cool!” Denki grinned and run towards the kitchen.

“Are you a new friend?”

After hearing this, Katsuki's eyes widen a bit as he realizes who’s Izuku talking to. He instantly went to the door to see you, standing and looking breathtaking.

“Y/n?” Katsuki called confusedly.

“H-hi Bakugo.” You stuttered, not knowing what to do.

“Oh? You know her?” Izuku smiled as he watched the interaction between Katsuki and you.

“I was invited by Kirishima.” You muttered. “I hope I’m not overstepping.”

“Who the fuck invited you over?” Katsuki scowled.

Ouch.

That sounds harsh.

“W-well. Kirishima invited me. I said I didn’t want to intrude.” You mumbled looking away as you fidgeted with the lace of your bag.

“Tch.” Katsuki tched and just went inside his house.

You just stood there not moving an inch when Izuku spoke up.

“Kacchan can be like that.” Izuku gently smiled at you. “Come on. I would like to get to know you.” He said, motioning you to get in.

You gave Izuku a small smile before getting in the house.

...

Few drinks are opened. Some are strong for the men, while the light is for the woman. Well, only Jiro, Mina, and Ochako.

“Ahh. I thought I get to see Kazui.” Ochako pouted while holding her alcoholic beverage.

Izuku, Ochako, Shoto, and Momo are sitting all on the long sofa. Jiro and Mina are sitting on the shorter sofa to the right, Denki and Sero to the left, and 3 dining chairs where you, Eijiro, and Katsuki are.

“Kaminari here was looking forward to playing with Kazui.” Sero snickered as he said this and took a sip from his bottle.

“Hey! You wanted to play as well!” Denki pouted at Sero who just laughed at them.

“It's been a while since we saw him.” Momo smiled. “I would love to bring Kazui with me to the mall. Only if Bakugo-san allows it.” Momo giggled.

Katsuki only rolled his eyes.

“May I come with you if that happens?” Shot asked. “I wanted to make sure my friend’s child is secure.”

“Oh fuck off, Icyhot,” Katsuki growled and took a gulp of his drink.

“Mhm? I just wanted to keep him safe for we are friends,” Saying this, the people around the table burst out laughing except for you, Katsuki, and Shoto.

“Ah. By the way.” Izuku started. “I didn’t catch your name.” Izuku said looking at you.

“Oh, I’m Y/N Y/LN.” You smiled.

“That’s a kawaii name.” Ochako giggled.

“Do you work at any agency?” Izuku questioned as he took a small sip.

“Oh no.” You narrowly shake your head. “I am a kindergarten teacher.” You said smiling.

“As well as Kazui’s babysitter.” Eijiro pipped in.

“That makes clear why Kacchan knows you,” Izuku said.

“Mhm.” You nodded.

“I just wanted to say that you look really stunning in that dress you are wearing.” Izuku gave you a gentle smile causing you to blush.

“You do look pretty, Miss Y/n.” Momo agrees, making everyone around the table nod.

“I heard Miss Y/n is single.” Mina said in a teasing voice.

“W-what?” You stuttered.

“Maybe you can date her, Midoriyaaa~” Mina continued poking fun resulting in Midoriya and you turning red.

“W-what? No! I just complimented her cause she looks very pretty and I'm too busy being number one. Plus I think I don't have time to date even though I have my eyes on someone-

“You’re rambling, Midoriya,” Shoto said.

“A-ah! Sorry!”

You on the other hand kept your mouth shut while you were patting down the redness of your face.

Meanwhile, Eijiro was eyeing Katsuki in his peripheral vision and witnessed how Katsuki gripped the glass bottle making it crack.

...

“It think I’m going to get some fresh air.” Y/n said as she excuses herself.

“No problem!”

“Sure, Miss Y/n,”

“Take your time!”

“Thank you.” Y/n smiled and fled the group to exit the house.

Once Y/n shut the door closed, she inhaled intensely and let it out calmly.

It's nice meeting his friends but she just feels like she doesn't belong there. Everyone is nice and all but she does feel like intruding.

While thinking about this, she took a stroll around the house and stopped at the well-kept backyard.

Bakugou do garden? You pondered but went anyway.

Checking the time, it was 7:00 in the evening. Y/n can hear them laughing from inside the house. All the memories and stories she heard were entertaining, unbelievable, and amazing. She didn't know hero training can be that hard and yet here they are, all standing tall. Their professors must be really proud of them.

Taking another inhale, Y/n closed her eyes and exhales slowly as she try and calm her mind.

Today was very stressful.

...

Katsuki stood up, making Eijiro look up at him.

“Where are you going, bro?” He asked.

“Bathroom.” Katsuki lied and headed to the back door instead. He needed some fresh air as well but he unexpectedly saw you standing alone in the darkness.

Made quietly shut the door behind him and made his way toward you.

Your senses are deficient. He can easily sneak up on you if he wanted.

“How’s your flirting with that damn nerd, hah,” Katsuki speaks up causing you to get startled.

“Bakugo.” You said gasp clutching your chest. “You scared me.” You panted.

Katsuki only rolled his eyes.

“What did you just say?” You asked once you feel your heartbeat calming.

“Done flirting with Deku?” Katsuki crossed his arms over his chest as he watches you closely.

“Huh?” What is he talking about?

“Earlier. How he tells you you’re stunning.” Katsuki smirked.

“He said he was just complimenting me.” You slightly scowled at this.

“Doesn’t look like that to me.” Katsuki snarled quietly. “What? Gonna seduce him? Like what you did to me, hah?”

“B-bakugo. What are you talking about?” You were now confused making you take a step back.

“Denying it now, huh? Are you gonna seduce him like what you did to me? Did you dress up like this so that you can impress him? And then what? Get in his pants to-”

Slap

What has gotten into him? Is he drunk?

You were tearing up. You don't know what was happening to him. Why was he acting like this.

“Y-you have no rights to disrespect me, Bakugo-san.” You hiccuped. “I don't know what has got into you but you're being unbelievable right now.”

After saying that, Y/n rushed out of the backyard to grab her things. Everyone was shocked to see your teary eyes.

Y/n apologized and bowed to everyone before finally leaving the house. Meanwhile, Katsuki was left in the backyard.

Eijiro was the one quick to check up on him.

“Bakugo! What happened?!”

Part 19

..

I really enjoyed making this part. I might update again in a bit! Enjoy! 🥰

[raplinesmoon]

The House The Sea Built (KNJ x F!Reader)

Inspired by the Korean film Il Mare, and Namjoon’s album Indigo

pairing: rapper!namjoon x artist!reader

genres/aus/rating: strangers to lovers, angst, smut, magical realism au, time travel au, 18+

summary: It was meant to be a simple, yet practical request - leaving behind the seaside cottage meant you had to find a way for your mail to get back to you. But the response you receive from the previous resident, a man named Namjoon, dated two years in the past, is anything but simple. With extraordinary circumstances allowing you to write to each other, your tired souls find solace in your shared loneliness, and friendship blossoms. But what happens when that isn’t enough? When the ability to change life before and the future ahead becomes too tempting to resist? Will you and Namjoon find the fulfillment you crave, or will the aftermath leave you even lonelier than before?

warnings: lots of pov switches, heartbreak, references to mental health, drinking, swearing, lots of little coincidences, mentions of breakups, lots of Indigo references, Namjoon gets angry, minor accident and injury, Taehyung cameo, character d*ath, happy ending!, smut warnings: masturbation (m and f), erotic letters, squirting

word count: 13.8k

a/n: It’s finally here. This literally has to be one of the most intense labors of love I’ve undertaken, but I love Kim Namjoon, and Indigo, and this is the result of that love. I hope this fic can help you believe in the magic that exists in our mundane little world, and that it can help some of your loneliness go away, or just be understood, much like Indigo did for us when it came out. I hope you enjoy!

Present Day, 2022

What was it about saying goodbye that made it so hard? People always reminded you that you’d have the memories to hold onto, cherished moments engraved in the delicate fabric of your mind. Still, they seemed so fleeting, easily doomed to fade into oblivion as their delicate threads tore off and disappeared into the fabric of your mind.

Lost in your thoughts, you hardly notice the slip of your pen across the cardstock, leaving a garish ink stain amongst the neat print. Sighing, you decide it’s best to end your letter here, hoping the next recipient wouldn’t mind the evidence of your daydreaming staring them down on the page.

Shivering, you wrap your arms tighter around you, taking in the surrounding sea one last time. While there had been many clear blue days during your time at the seaside cottage over the past year, today was not one of them. Today, the fog was so dense the mist clouded the horizon as far as anyone could see, the only sign of the water being the gentle sound of the waves lapping against the shore. Your toes itched to take one last walk on the feather-light sand and to feel it squish between your toes, but you didn’t want to get your shoes dirty before making it to your new apartment.

A soft meow calls your attention, and you look over to see a pair of curious green eyes studying you from the shadows. Smiling, you slip the postcard into its envelope, reaching for the heavy box of art supplies - the last imprint of yourself remaining in the house, and rising to your feet.

“Alright Bokboki, it’s time to go,” you whisper softly, your boots thudding against the gangplank that kept the house elevated from the rising tide. Handing your box to the movers, you remember to pick up the card, holding it tightly to your chest with one hand, while scooping up Bokboki with the other. The wind whipped around your face, your hair flying in all different directions as you stepped back to take a look at your home. 

Slipping the postcard into the rust-covered mailbox, you hoped the next resident would appreciate the place as much as you did. More importantly, though, you hoped they honour your request in the note - the letter you were expecting was too important to miss. 

Climbing into the taxi with Bokboki, you wave a final goodbye to the cottage, turning your gaze away to await the promise of the new life that lay ahead.

. . . 

Groaning you turn against the scratchy sheets of your new bed, temples throbbing with pain as you’re greeted by the rays of sunlight upon rising. You missed the dense fog of the house by the sea, allowing you to sleep in as long as you wanted. Here, in this lonely box of an apartment, you were a slave to everyone else’s clock, awakened by the unforgiving light that signaled it was time to have another productive day. You cover your face with the blanket, burrowing back into the sheets.

Five more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

. . .

Those five minutes had unexpectedly turned into twenty, and now you were tripping over the boxes you had yet to unpack, slipping and sliding on the cool tile as you struggled to put your heels on and smooth down your hair. First impressions mattered when it came to finding work in your field, and you had to present the polished, sophisticated image that won the hearts (and the pockets) of most gallery owners.

Locking the door behind you, you see the woman from across the hall step into her own apartment as you’re leaving yours.

“How are you today?” you ask with a smile, only to feel the wind from the door slamming shut in your face. Dejected, you make your way down the staircase with your shoulders slumped.

Passing by the mailbox, you wonder if it’s worth taking a look for your letter, but decide against it. It had only been the first day after all. Who knew if Taehyung was even awake right now, halfway across the world?

Shaking your head, you ward off the intrusive thoughts in your mind, knowing that the letter would come, and all your worries would be eased. For now, you had an interview to go to. 

. . . 

The cold glint of the gallery manager’s eyes is all you remember, his booming laugh echoing in your ears, the sound seeming less like the jolly joke he intended it to be when he called your work unrefined, and more like a mockery that made your skin crawl. All you’d wanted to do was curl in on yourself in that moment, your feet itching to run to the corner and collapse. Instead, you’d politely wished him a good day, waiting until you were outside to let the first tears fall.

With your eyes trained on the ground as you walk through the brightly lit streets, you barely take a moment to notice the joyful spirit that permeated the air, couples and families all out for a stroll in the chilly weather, enjoying each others’ company. It only made you feel more alone as you ascended the stairs to your apartment, Bokboki’s soft meows greeting you upon opening the door.

Looking at your phone, you see a missed call from Hyung-seo, your best friend, asking if you wanted to hang out tonight. Slumping onto your couch, you try to figure out the best excuse, when your eyes came across the picture of you in Taehyung in the corner, cheeks red from the cold and arms wrapping each other in a warm embrace. Your fingers tremble over the phone buttons, hesitating but never daring to press call. 

What was it about feeling sad that only made you want to be even alone? Humans were strange in that way.

Giving Bokboki a few scratches between the ears, you change into your pyjamas and brush your teeth. Tomorrow you’d go back to the house and check if the letter from Taehyung had arrived. You needed some kind of sign that things would be better from now on.

2 years ago, 2020

Namjoon looks at the tree with its vibrant leaves hued in red, orange and gold, and a twinge of sadness goes through him. As beautiful as they were, he knew he’d only get to enjoy them for a short while before the wind lifted them up and away, and winter settled in on the coast.

He hadn’t actually been inside yet. The company had dropped off all his things in the cottage, but Namjoon had been too scared to step over the threshold, because that meant accepting this new phase of his life. One where as the world had shut down and gone to sleep, he hoped that people wouldn’t notice how he faded into obscurity, never to be heard from again.

Quite frankly, Namjoon was tired of being heard from. As a performer and a rapper, he was used to thousands of eyes on him every second, whether it was at a concert or even through his pictures on the internet. The mask that he’d chosen to don as his alter ego, RM, had become heavy, the strings threatening to snap and reveal the tired, fragmented soul that lay underneath. He’d chosen to intervene before anyone could see him, the real him. He didn’t want to disappoint them.

Staring out at the sea, the wind ruffles the strands of his hair, and he knows he should get a haircut. But then again, who was gonna see him out here anyway? At most, maybe Yoongi or Hoseok would stop by, or his parents. They were the type of people who wouldn’t care if his hair was a little bedraggled, or if he gained or lost a couple of pounds. They’d love him anyway.

The garish ringtone of his cellphone jolts him awake from his thoughts, and he pulls it out of his pocket to see Hoseok’s name light up the screen, hitting the answer button.

“Namjoon-ah,” Hoseok’s voice rumbles through the screen. “You said you’d call when you got there.”

“Sorry, just unpacking,” Namjoon lied, hoping Hoseok wouldn’t catch on. “The house is nice. Do you know who designed it? It doesn’t seem like it was built by some generic construction company.”

He knows Hoseok is rolling his eyes on the other side of the phone, babbling that it was some architect, but Namjoon’s question had been sincere. He wondered who could have wanted to hide from the world bad enough that they’d design a house on this isolated beach, where the winds were wild and the sun shone rarely, and how someone who he’d never met could have understood his desire to not be found so deeply.

“Thanks for the Kaws figurine by the way,” Namjoon gives out at small smile when thinking of Hoseok’s parting gift. “I’ll find a nice place for it.”

Hoseok’s infectious laugh echoes through the speaker, and Namjoon feels his gut lurch, missing his friend.

“You better send me a picture of what you’ve done with the place, and don’t forget to call, huh? Me and Yoongi-hyung are gonna hold you to it.”

Namjoon remains silent on the other end, staring out at the vast horizon, nothing and no one around for miles.

Hoseok clears his throat on the other end, his voice becoming serious.

“Stay happy, Namjoon-ah, talk to you soon.”

“You too, Hob-ah,” Namjoon finally musters before the line cuts dead, leaving him alone once more. Staring at the open door, his new life waiting for him inside, he rises to his feet, walking towards the house that was now waiting for Namjoon to make it a home.

. . .

The first thing he had to tackle was his massive collection of books, the numerous volumes waiting to be homed on the weathered shelves. He knew they wouldn’t stay tidy for long, with his habit of taking one down every day to read and somehow never putting it back. Staring at the walls, he tries to assess the light filtering in through the window, wondering where he could hang his paintings. 

The entire house was blue, from the well-worn wood to the sunlight reflecting off the sea, casting a cerulean glow over the walls, matching the dark blue jeans he was wearing. Instead of being eerie, it reminded Namjoon of those dioramas of a ship in a bottle. This was now his space, his spot to look upon the world, instead of having the world look at him.

As he hung up the art on the wall, he stared at it, hoping it could look back at him, and offer him the inspiration to create he so desperately craved. Studying the strokes of the Lee Bae piece, the splotches and strokes only served to remind him of the dark abyss his mind had become. 

It seemed silly, the job Namjoon had. Who the fuck cared about him and his silly rhymes when the world outside was falling apart? When lives were changing like they never had before? At least for artists, their works could live on to be admired and reflected on without the pressures of the context it was created. For Namjoon, context was all that mattered - how he dressed, what he said, who he spoke to. Never how he felt.

Turning away from the lone painting hanging on the wall, he feels his temples throb with the beginning of a headache. Unpacking could wait. For now, he craved the fresh sea air, the whole reason he’d moved away from the city in the first place. 

The sand on the beach squished against his feet as he ran, feeling the wind blow through his hair, and Namjoon felt freeer than he had in months. Pausing by the oceanside, he panted, hands on his knees, and drew in his chest, screaming into the great beyond, his voice hoarse and tears streaming down his face.

. . .

Returning to the house, Namjoon paused outside the rust-covered mailbox. He probably should check if there had been any important communication from the label. After all, this break was not completely a break. At the end of it, Namjoon would still be pressured to show that the time off had been worth something. 

Reaching inside, he’s surprised to find an envelope within, feeling heavy cardstock in his hands. Curious, he opens it, finding a generic greeting card. Who could have sent him this? He flips the page open:

Hello there!

I’m the person that lived in this house before you did.

I have a favor to ask.

I’m waiting for a letter, actually.

So if you get anything addressed to me, could you please send it to this address?

Wishing you lots of luck in the new place.

Thank you again.

My best,

____

2022.

P.S. those pawprints by the door? They were there before I moved in. I tried my best to get rid of them, but I couldn’t. I hope you can forgive me.

Turning the letter in his hands, Namjoon is confused. The stamp was dated 2022, but it was only 2020. Whoever sent it had to be playing some kind of practical joke on him. As far as the realtor had explained to him, he was the first to live in the cottage, the architect’s lost labor of love away from the city appealing to his desire to get out of his hectic life. And there were no pawprints anywhere.

He pulls out his phone, ready to search your name on Google, but hesitates at the last minute. He knew what it was like to have his privacy invaded, to live a life under scrutiny in the age of the internet. Your letter seemed well-intentioned and even if you were a stranger, perhaps he could just do this one kind thing for you without expecting anything in return. 

Lost in thought, he almost misses the sound of a car crunching on the gravel outside, looking out the window to see a sleek black vehicle he knew all too well rolling up. Throwing his coat outside, he runs to it, a surprised expression on his face.

“Hyung!” he calls out to the two figures that exit, their expressions taking in the isolated area with nothing but the sea surrounding them. “What are you doing here?”

“So this is where you’re hiding from us,” Yoongi whistles, Hoseok nudging him in the stomach. 

“We brought some of your stuff from the studio,” Hoseok says cheerfully, his heart-shaped smile piercing through the fog.

“Do you want some tea?” Namjoon doesn’t want to invite them in, but feels like he has to.

Yoongi studies him, his dark eyes glimmering, and Namjoon senses something is up. They’d known each other for too long to keep secrets from one another. 

“This came for you,” he holds out a piece of paper. “It’s from Ji-hyeon.”

Namjoon flinches at the mention of his ex’s name, and instantly the walls he’d built up in his mind to keep them out of it crashing down, the bitter end of their relationship causing bile to burn in the back of his throat.

“Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it,” he spits out, and he watches Yoongi glance at him. He knew his hyung blamed Ji-hyeon for everything going south, for Namjoon needing to get away, but it hadn’t been just that. There was more going, more Namjoon wasn’t sure he was ready to share with anyone.

“The house looks great,” Hoseok interrupts the tension. “You’ll have to invite us in some other time. Hopefully you can actually learn to cook and clean up after yourself.”

He puts a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder, beckoning them to go, and Namjoon watches them leave, alone and finally able to breathe again. He hadn’t realized how stifling the presence of other people had become, even those closest to him. He just wanted to be alone.

Namjoon hears a whine from his side, looking over in surprise to see a kitten staring up at him with huge eyes, like it wanted something from him.

“Hey little goyangi,” he chuckles. “Who are you – Hey!” 

The kitten stares up at him for a few moments longer, before running towards the house, knocking over the can of paint by the entrance, Namjoon chasing after it. 

He walks in to see little black pawprints all over the entry, and is immediately reminded of the letter from earlier. 

P.S. those pawprints by the door? They were there before I moved in.

Namjoon runs to his study, tripping over boxes on the way, desperately searching for where he kept his pen and paper. He had to know how you knew about the pawprints, and whether you really were from the future.

Sitting against the wall, he’s unsure how to start - responding to yes your request seemed so trivial, limiting the ability to ask all the questions he wanted answers to. Instead, he decided to take a simpler approach, speaking from his heart:

Dear ____,

I’m fucking lonely…

Present Day, 2022

Curling tighter into your coat, you take in the old cottage, still standing as proudly and as empty as the day you moved in, a lone display piece against the backdrop of the sea. You’d contemplated coming back for a little while now, not having heard from Taehyung or the new resident. Taking matters into your own hands, you’d been surprised to hear that no one new had moved in, lying to the realtor that you’d left something behind. 

Key in hand, you open the door, greeted with the vast space that seemed cold and sad without the warmth of a human being and their possessions to fill it. Things had been rough lately, a few more visits with gallery owners and exhibitions not going the way you’d expected them to, and it made you remember why you loved this place so much.

Here, no one could remind you that you weren’t enough, that you’d have to try again. You were just free to be as you were, the ocean your silent partner. Throwing the sleeping bag onto the floor, you scoop up Bokboki, cuddling him in your lap. The two of you remain silent, watching the sky change and the clouds shift, until night falls and you drift off to sleep.

. . . 

You open your eyes with a start, the hard wood that you’d fallen asleep on causing pain to explode across your back. Turning, you see Bokboki snoozing off right next to you, his tiny body moving up and down with each breath. The first rays of sunlight have begun to break through the window, and you know it’s a sign that the weekend is almost over, and you’ll have to leave soon. 

Stretching, you wrap your sweater tight around yourself, slipping on your shoes to go check on the mail outside. The air is crisp and the fog dense. Slipping your hand inside the mailbox, you’re surprised when you feel an envelope in there, one that hadn’t been present at the start of the weekend. 

Taking it out, you open the envelope to find a plain piece of paper, the messy scrawl of black ink all over the pages. Could someone have responded to the card you’d left? Your eyes scan over the page:

Dear ____,

I’m fucking lonely. Sorry for the abrupt introduction, but I just had to get that off my chest, and as you probably know, there’s no one around for miles. As much as I want to help you, since it seems like you’re waiting for something (or someone?) important, but I think you sent that letter to the wrong address. I’m the very first person who’s lived here. I apologize for not being able to help more, and wish you the best of luck with your search.

Sincerely,

Kim Namjoon

Glancing at the stamp on the right hand corner, you see that it’s dated from 2020, and your eyes widen. Was this some kind of sick prank? Whatever it was, you weren’t going to put up with it. You’d been pushed around and dismissed by too many people in your life to stand for it with some stranger.

Rifling through your bag, you find your small sketchbook and a pen, tearing off a sheet. As much as it pained you to rip what could house a potentially new piece of art, this warranted a response and warranted one now.

Listen,

I don’t know why this letter sent to you, but if you’re playing some kind of joke, can you please just leave it where you found it? Thanks.

___

P.S. you’re not seriously sending me letters from 2020, are you? That has to be a typo. Also, the weather is getting colder outside, please make sure to bundle up.

Stuffing the letter back into the mailbox, you feel tears prick at your eyelids. Why couldn’t anyone ever take you seriously? You weren’t just some doll or plaything to be tossed around and abused. You were a real person, with real feelings, and it seemed like no one ever got that about you. You didn’t know why you’d ended with another well-wish, now this Namjoon guy would just think he could use you again.

Suddenly, you feel a cold splish! on the tip of your nose, looking up to see a soft scatter of snowflakes descend from the sky. You feel Bokboki brush against your leg, and smile, your anger of a moment ago forgotten. The tension in your shoulders eases as you close your eyes and make a silent wish that despite the bumpy start, the incoming snow would treat you kindly, and perhaps all that you deserved would finally come your way.

2 years ago, 2020

Namjoon shivers with his hands in his pockets, standing outside the mailbox once again. You’d sent another letter. He’d seen it on his way out to the nearby small village this morning, his empty fridge taunting him. While his fingers had itched to tear open the envelope, he needed time to sit and process whatever your response would be. 

Opening it, his eyes fall at your cold response, the only thing keeping his frozen tears at bay your request for him to stay warm. Maybe you did have a heart after all. Sighing, he shoves the letter into his pockets along with his hands, breaking into a run as he ventures to escape the frigid winter air.

Shaking the snow from his hair, he strips off his winter clothes, teeth chattering from the cold. He walks down the hallway to the bathroom, stripping the rest of his clothes and filling the tub up with warm water. At the sound of the dripping, his new cat friend comes pattering in. Namjoon had decided to keep the curious creature after much contemplation. Just because he felt lonely, didn’t mean he wanted to be completely alone.

He sighs as he steps into the tub, the water instantly filling him with warmth. Closing his eyes, he reaches for his phone on the bench nearby. His eyebrows furrow when he sees dozens of messages from Yoongi and Hoseok, asking about how he’d settled in. There was another text too - one from the company’s head, asking how the progress on his new album was going.

Namjoon wanted to bang his head against the wall. He’d barely had a break and already, people were demanding things of him again. He wondered when this all became so painful - when the fame began to feel like shackles, when everything began to seem forced. Namjoon swipes on the message, deleting it for good. He wouldn’t let the pressure get to him again. If he wanted to write music, he would. If he wanted to make poetry, he would. If he wanted to throw paint against a canvas, he would. But no one could tell him what to do.

His phone clatters against the bench, Namjoon dropping it in favor of the wineglass that rests by the tub. Taking a sip, he sighs, the hot water restoring life to his body and the alcohol numbing his brain. 

“I do wish me a lovely night,” he chuckles to himself.

Present Day, 2022

Dear ____

Like you predicted, the weather got colder. It even snowed! I’m afraid though, that with the wintertime cheer, I’ve gotten a cold. I don’t know what to make of this – I can’t tell whether you’re a prophet or a fortune teller or just someone who owns a lot of crystals. But somehow all of those are easier to believe than the fact that you’re from the year 2022. 

Best,

Namjoon

Clutching the letter to your chest, you sigh heavily, unsure why you’d decided to keep writing back to the strange man who seemed to live inside the mailbox at the cottage. He seemed less harmless than you thought he was, his words so sincere, you could almost imagine the smile that lit up his face as his messy scrawl danced across the page.

Reaching across your desk for a piece of paper, you dig through your collection of pens, finding your favorite one. You smile as you pen a quick response, refraining from telling him I told you so about the cold weather. It seemed extraordinary to be writing to him. Although you still couldn’t fully wrap your head around the fact that he was from the past, you hadn’t realized how lonely your life had become.

Ever since Taehyung had moved away, you’d only had Hyung-Seo. The life of an artist was lonelier than people realized. There were no glamorous gallery openings or art parties in dimly lit rooms. Many of the other artists you came across were cold and unwelcoming, preferring to stick to their already existing circles, and showing no interest in you or your pieces. Hyung-seo was the only friend you managed to hold on to, but even she had her own life to worry about.

Maybe that’s why it felt so right to be writing to this Namjoon guy. You’d been denying it, but there was a void in your life - you had no one to talk to, no one who would really listen to you. Even Bokboki couldn’t say anything back. But Namjoon listened to you - he wrote to you even when you’d been rude, searching for ways to prolong the conversation. And his words, despite how brief they were, made you feel just a little bit less lonely.

. . . 

2 years ago, 2020

Namjoon guzzles the last of the beer, the rush hitting him while he waits for Hoseok to come out of the convenience store. Pulling his mask up and his hood over his head, he looks down at the ground, hoping no one recognizes him at this hour. He didn’t have the capacity to deal with a fan sighting right now. In fact, he’d been hesitant to agree to Hoseok’s offer of hanging out in the city at all, preferring the peace and solitude he’d come to associate with the beach house.

He had a love-hate relationship with the place, the tall buildings and masses of people in the street only serving to make him feel lonely. For a place full of people, the city was full of sorrow. In the days he’d lived here, Namjoon’s only solace had been bike rides on the river, the briny smell of the water being the impetus that had spurred him to move out to the oceanside in the first place. While he missed it, he didn’t miss the feeling of being a wanderer, not having a place to belong in this vast metropolis. 

Hoseok comes out with his haul of snacks, the two of them ready to head back to his apartment. In the car, Namjoon reaches into his pocket, fingers brushing against the last letter you’d sent, and he has a spark of realization. The address you’d been writing him from was near Hoseok’s place, maybe five or ten minutes away. Maybe he could finally meet you, the mysterious woman who occupied most of his thoughts and activities these days, the one who made him feel a little less alone in the world. 

“Can we take a detour?” Namjoon asks suddenly, prompting Hoseok to look at him with raised eyebrows. “I have somewhere I need to see.”

Hoseok nods silently, and Namjoon is thankful he doesn’t question him. He gives the directions, and Hoseok drives, coming to a stop a few minutes later. Namjoon can stop himself from bolting out of the car, running up to where he know you live—

Only to find a construction site and a half-finished apartment complex, and his face falls. Taking a look at the exposed beams and the planks of wood, it finally hits Namjoon that you’re a real person. A person who’s going to live here. He wonders what you look like, what you do for work. He wants to know more about you, know where you are in the world, and when your paths will cross. 

“Why are we at a construction site?” Hoseok comes up beside him, concern etched in his features for his best friend.

“No reason,” Namjoon sighs. “I just thought there’d be something else here. Let’s go.”

2 years ago, 2020

Namjoon looks at the kitten, studying it with the utmost scrutiny. A tortoiseshell coat, and striking green eyes, and a little triangle patch of black hair in the middle of its head. 

He hadn’t known the little guy was supposed to have a name already, but now he’d just found out: Bokboki. Namjoon is unable to speak, sitting there stunned with his little companion after reading the letter you’d just sent, ranting about how you’d spent the entire day just lounging around with your cat, whom you’d found when you moved into the house. 

Namjoon hadn’t seen many other cats strolling around the beach, and since this one seemed to have a particular connection to the beach house, he realizes that in some strange twist of fate, the two of you owned the same pet, the fortuitous connection between you two only building and building. So, you really were from the future.

You’d sent him something else besides the letter, something that had shocked Namjoon even more than the revelation about little Bokboki. The piece itself is tiny, printed on a sheet even smaller than the one you’d written your letter on, but it’s nothing short of stunning. The simple flowers, not unlike the ones he’d seen growing by the beach, are shaded in different hues of blue. He can see where the acid caused the paint to stratify, feathery strokes running over the page, and the once vibrant flowers are now washed out to nothing but white, obliterated by the dark midnight of the background. In the very corner lies a small signature, and Namjoon realizes the neat scrawl is of your name. 

You were an artist. Just like him. 

Namjoon feels a pang within his chest, unable to reason why the tiny painting you’d shared affected him so. You hadn’t said anything about it, hadn’t bragged or even gone into detail about what it meant or why you’d chosen to paint it, or send it to him. And yet, Namjoon felt as if through this painting, he knew more about you than he had through the course of all your letters sent to each other. 

You understood him. You understood what the pressure to create was like, how hard it was to condense the vast world around you into a set of lyrics, or a single painting, and to still invoke a full-bodied spectrum of emotions. He wondered if you understood the burnout too - when art no longer felt like freedom, and more like a set of shackles. How when what once made your heart beat no longer touched it at all, it felt like dying your very first death. 

He doesn’t realize the tears have fallen down his face until he sees the paper he’d picked out to write back splotched with wet spots, and he sniffles.

Scrolling through his library of guide tracks until sleep makes his eyes heavy, Namjoon glances over occasionally at the painting, at a loss of words for how he could even begin to repay the beautiful gift you’d shared with him.

. . . 

Dear Namjoon,

Are you for real? A still life that does not stop, keep my flower blooming again. It’s like you wrote this about my painting!! But how could you, when I hadn’t even sent it to you yet? The song was amazing by the way, even though I had to go out and buy a CD player to listen to it. You’re very talented. You should release it! I’m sure it would go viral on Spotify.

I had an inkling you were an artist too. That’s why I sent you my piece. I’m glad you appreciate it, even when others don’t seem to. But enough about me, I want to talk about you! Your music is so addictive, I can’t stop listening to it. Do you like making songs? I know sometimes it can be hard to create things and not see them get the appreciation they deserve, but I have full faith that if you were to share your talent with the world, you’d find an audience for it (okay maybe the audience would just be me, but isn’t that reason enough?). It seems we’re living in a strange thread of time right? Our previously separate lives are intertwining, thread by thread, and I can’t help but think that there’s something bigger going on. But I’ll save you from my rambling. For now, I wish you good luck with your songwriting!

Sincerely, 

____

Namjoon stares at the letter, his eyes rimmed with red from tears and a lack of sleep. He wants to pull at the threads of his hair and yank them from his scalp. When he’d scrolled through his guides on a whim, choosing to send you a CD burned with Still Life, he’d never expected this reaction. He had never meant for you to hear it, or for anyone to hear it for that matter. It wasn’t the kind of music anyone expected from him, or the dark, sexy kind of song that made any money, and so he’d let it sit on his computer, abandoned.

Until now. 

Namjoon wants to tear up the letter into a million tiny pieces. How dare you say that to him? How dare you give him this fragile sense of hope, knowing any moment, this cruel world could snatch it away? You were wrong. In this day and age, no one was actually interested in music. Sure, they blasted songs through their headphones on the way to work, or while running outside, or in the clubs, but did anyone actually listen to what the artists were saying? No. The lyrics remained lost in the back of their brains, no one ever stopping to think about the conversation that he was trying to initiate. Everybody talked about him, but no one ever talked to him.

Finding another piece of paper, Namjoon nearly rips through it with the force of his pen scratching across the surface.

Dear ___,

You asked me if I like making music. I don’t know anymore. I just don’t know.

Present Day, 2022

Dear ___,

We’d like to thank you for your time spent applying to our gallery. Unfortunately, we regret to inform you…

You toss the letter in the trash before you can even read the rest, covering your mouth to stop the tears from spilling out while you were in the middle of the street. It hadn’t been a good week for you. Not only had Namjoon written you an abrupt response, leaving you to wonder whether he was angry, but you’d finally gotten the letter you were waiting for from Taehyung. Except, instead of the response you’d expected, you’d been greeted with nothing but a big red stamp - return to sender.

You shove your hands in your pockets, staring blankly ahead as you walk wherever your feet will take you, uncaring of people scolding you to get out of their way or to watch where you’re going. Eventually, you find a bench, plopping down on it with a sigh, only to be met with the rude stare of some old man who promptly gets up and leaves. You weren’t good enough for anyone it seemed.

From across the bench, you can see a rusty telephone booth, a relic you thought didn’t exist anymore, and an idea sparks in your brain. A very bad idea. But your mind is powerless to stop the way you rise, feet walking towards the phone booth. 

The door creaks when you open it, and you give the buttons of the phone a cursory tap, just to make sure they still work and you aren’t about to have your credit card eaten. Although it wouldn’t matter much if it was - it’s not like your name was worth much. Dialing the last number you knew to be Taehyung’s, you wait as the dial tone rings and rings.

“Hello?” a woman’s voice answers. “Hello?”

“Who is it?” a deep voice rumbles in the background, and you slam the phone back onto the receiver, your heart beating out of your chest. 

Running out of the booth, you don’t stop until your feet carry you all the way home.

. . . 

Shoving your coat and your shoes off, you strip off the rest of your clothes, throwing them against the wall with a thud. You want to scream. You want to break something. But you have nothing of value. Nothing that would equal the pain and the heartbreak you feel right now. All you have is yourself. And you’re completely alone.

You slam the door to your room shut, ignoring Bokboki’s soft meows, and collapse to the ground, sobs wracking your entire body. You lay there with your head against the door, wondering why the world had chosen to be so cruel to you, to leave you so lonely. 

That was the hard part about getting older. When you’d been in high school, everybody had told you your adult years would be the best of your life, with so many milestones to look forward to - getting a job, entering a relationship, getting married, buying a house, having kids. And that you’d have so many people by your side to witness it all. But the reality was, none of that was true. Instead, you felt more like you were wading through the wide open ocean, with no one around to see you struggle to keep your head above the surface. 

You muster enough strength to get up, stumbling over the desk, head in your hands as you stare at the piece of paper you’d chosen out to write your next letter to Namjoon. Tracing your hand over the edge, you pick up the pen, beginning to write.

I thought falling in love would make me so happy. But all it did was break me inside. It gave me fleeting happiness, only to snatch it away and laugh in my face, telling me that I’m not enough. That I will never be enough. Why though? Why does it have to be me who feels so lonely? Why do I have to go through this pain? Am I not worthy of being loved? Am I undesirable in some way? Once, just once, I wish I could love someone and have them love me back. And not in the transient, fleeting kind of way. No, I wish I could be loved, wholly and completely. I wish to know what it feels like to have someone who’ll sleep beside me every night, to wake up warm instead of freezing. To feel another pair of lips against my own, to have those lips both soothe me and undo me. To feel someone’s fingers inside me, bringing me to highs I can never reach alone. To know someone else’s body as well as I know mine, to lose myself in them completely while we make each other come.

As you write, an image flashes in your head, one of a faceless man. You have no idea what he looks like, but you can hear his voice. It’s the same voice that writes to you nearly every day, that hears your deepest thoughts, and you want him to know your darkest desires.

Your fingers slip underneath the waistband of your panties, warmth pooling in between your legs, and you resist the urge to rub your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure between them. You let out a staggered breath when you swipe through your folds, fingers sliding easily against the wetness that has begun to pool, and your hand rises to circle lightly around your clit.

You let out a moan you didn’t know you’d been holding in, closing your eyes and leaning back against the chair, your legs spreading on their own as the deep voice in your mind continues to talk to you, to repeat what you’d written in the letter, and you feel yourself clench involuntarily thinking about the faceless man in the back of your mind. 

Sinking a finger inside of you, you grind your hips, your throbbing clit catching the palm of your hands. You tremble at the wet noises you can hear, accompanied by the soft staccato of your whines, and your thumb circles back around your needy bud, increasing the pressure, the pleasure rapidly building as you slide in another finger, fucking yourself against your hand. 

It takes a split second for your walls to tighten around you and the taut knot in your stomach to snap, your body convulsing as your slick spilled all over your fingers, soaking your underwear and the chair below. 

You open your eyes, huffing breathlessly as you remove your sticky fingers from inside of you, your heart pounding in your eyes. Looking down at the piece of paper, you shove it to the side, shame flooding your entire body at the debauched fantasy of Namjoon you’d just gotten off to. He was your friend, not some cheap rebound attempt. Your fingers tremble as you grab the pen, trying to write another letter to him to quell your racing thoughts, hoping calm would find you again after the storm that had just ensued.

. . .

2 years ago, 2020

Namjoon shouldn’t be reading this. This clearly wasn’t meant for him. But wasn’t it? You’d put the letter in the mailbox, knowing it’d go through to him, knowing he’d read the very words that had his face flushing red and his cock stirring underneath his grey sweats. He felt like a total perv, getting hard when you were clearly vulnerable and sharing something personal with him, but he’d be lying if he hadn’t thought about how you looked, how you felt, how you tasted.

It’d been too long since Namjoon had sex, and he’d forgotten how strong and persuasive desire could be, leading him to do the most fucked up things. Namjoon reads the letter again, and again, and again, wondering if you touched yourself while you wrote it. Wondering if that’s why the words sounded so rushed, so frantic, spilling out of you like he’d never heard you speak before. He wonders who could make you feel that way, and jealousy stirs in his chest when he realizes it’s most likely someone else. Not him. 

Still, it doesn’t stop him from tugging his sweats down, his hard cock springing out, and he wraps one hand around it, leaning back against the bed. His eyes close as he pumps himself, imagining you behind his eyelids - your lips, your breasts, your pussy. But also your smile, your eyes, your hands. And Namjoon aches to touch you, to touch anyone, to banish the deep-rooted loneliness within his heart.

A bead of precum escapes the tip of his dick, and Namjoon slides it around himself, stroking harder, and faster, thrusting into his hand imagining it was you instead, just like you’d wished for him to do. Underneath him, the bed begins to creak, and Namjoon lets out a low groan, throbbing as he bucks his hips in time with his hands. 

“Fuck,” Namjoon growls as he explodes, curses falling from his lips as he slumps into the bed, chest falling and rising with heavy breaths. Sparks tingle under his skin, Namjoon’s body coming alive like it hadn’t for months. 

At the same time, the guilt settles in, and he feels as though a lead weight is pressed against his chest, crushing his lungs until he can’t breathe. He feels sick inside for taking your moment of vulnerability and using it for his own selfish gains. The gross feeling remains even after he’s gotten up and cleaned himself off, his head buried in his hands when he sits at his desk. 

Grabbing a piece of paper, he begins to write, words of apology flying off the page, hoping it’s enough to excuse his depravity, that you’ll forgive him, that you’ll still want to write to him. He doesn’t know what he’d do if you didn’t.

Dear ___,

I’m sorry you’re feeling this way. I don’t know if you meant to send me those vulnerable words, but if you did, I want to thank you for thinking that I’m trustworthy enough to share them with. I know nothing I say can completely heal the sadness within your heart, but maybe I can offer some wisdom from my own up-and-down experiences with love.

The reason we’re so tormented in life is because love goes on, not because it goes away. But even after we lose that love, the life of a person who’s been in love is more beautiful and vibrant than that of someone who’s never experienced love at all. Cheer up. Everything will work out the way it’s meant to.

- Namjoon

Namjoon stares at the letter for a few moments, unable to believe the poetic words that had just left him in this moment of shame when he’d been struggling to write for months. His brain churns with an idea, and he opens his mixing software, grabbing the notebook he uses to pen his lyrics, and beginning to write. 

If love ain’t for us

I’ll be satisfied with this

I don’t need your touch

I just need your love

Come closer, come closer

Present Day, 2022

Perusing the piece of paper, you wonder if Namjoon’s been drinking the past couple of days. He’s never opened up this much to you, preferring to keep your interactions surface level and friendly. But his last letter hadn’t been just friendly, it’d been poetic, reassuring you that love was worth it. You wonder if he’d been thinking of someone specific when he penned the words. Now, with this next letter, you finally had your answer.

Dear ____,

It was Ji-hyeon. Ji-hyeon was their name. I thought we had it all - the perfect chemistry, thought we wanted the same things. But I was a fool to think that love was for me. I’ve been trying so hard to let the memory of the breakup go, but it haunts me every day. Every day, a little piece of me chips off and withers away when I realize that I’m losing myself. I’m losing my sanity. I’ve ceased to be a human and instead become a prisoner to this industry. To making music. And I just want to let it all go. To quit. That’s why I moved out here in the first place, to find some peace away from the hectic city. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t. I can’t let it go because music is who I am, art is who I am. And it breaks me because the pull of creative expression will always overtake anything, or anyone in my life. I can’t live normally, as much as I yearn to. I can’t love anyone.

- Namjoon

You clamp your hand over your mouth to stop the tears from falling, Namjoon laying himself bare on the page, and your heart hurts for him. Not only because of his sadness, but because his loneliness is the same loneliness you feel, both of you wandering souls in this unforgiving world. 

Watching your clothes spin in the washing machine, you think of Taehyung, and how he was your Ji-hyeon. Except, it was different. You’d known love, you’d known happiness unlike Namjoon had.

Grabbing your notebook, you scribble across the page, telling him that it doesn’t have to be that way, that real love is like the beauty of an amazing art piece. Something can be both beautiful and full of love, it doesn’t have to be full of ugliness and heartbreak for it to inspire you to create. Pausing, you think back on a story from a while back, deciding to divulge it to him. 

The watercolor I sent you? It’s from two years ago, I was painting a whole series on wildflowers in cyanotype. But I went through so many different renditions, so many different drafts, that I ran out of my favorite watercolors, the . I ran to my favorite store, hoping, praying that the creative streak I was on wouldn’t leave me, that if I just had those watercolors, I could keep going. I could make something of myself. But they weren’t there. Someone had bought them just moments before I entered the store, the last set. After that, I just gave up. I was strapped for money and couldn’t afford another set, let alone the time it would take to scour the city looking for them. I haven’t touched the paintings since. 

. . . 

2 years ago, 2020

Namjoon throws his coat over his shoulders, stopping only to scratch Bokboki between the ears before he runs outside, stumbling into the taxi as he frantically tells the driver to take him into the city. The roads pass him by, the serene landscape becoming dotted with more and more buildings, more people as the minutes go on. He asks to be let off at a random intersection, tipping the driver generously before he’s off running again.

There were a million art stores here. Surely one of them had to have the watercolors you were looking for. Namjoon didn’t want you to become like him, paralyzed and unable to do what you enjoyed. No, he wanted better for you, and he’d make sure it happened, so your beautiful wildflowers could see the sun’s rays once again.

Finding one on the corner of a narrow street, he slips inside, greeting the store owner warmly before heading to the back wall full of paints. 

His eyes scan through the rainbow of tubes and pans, until he sees them, the Kuretake ones you’d talked about in his letter. And there was only one left. Grabbing it, he rushes over to the cashier, paying for it, and running back out into the cold air, excitement coursing through your veins when he thinks of how happy you’d be when you saw him.

On his way out, he brushes against a shoulder, apologizing to the woman he’d accidentally bumped into. She gives him a polite smile before continuing on her way inside, and Namjoon smiles back, continuing on his way until he can hail a cab.

When he reaches back home, he slips the colors in the mailbox, and waits. 

It’s a few days later when your response comes back, your joy evident in the way the ink bleeds across the page, telling him you’d sobbed happy tears when you saw the watercolors. You’d immediately gone to start another painting, and Namjoon feels joy bloom inside his chest at the kindness he’d done for you. 

Reaching inside the mailbox, he’s shocked when his fingers close around something soft and wollen, pulling it out to see a scarf, indigo in color. The deep blue and violet fabric warms him instantly, as well as the note attached.

They say indigo is the color of intuition and perception. This scarf helped me find wisdom when I was struggling. I hope it does the same for you.

Present Day, 2022

It was a stupid mistake.

Looking at the letter again, you roll your eyes. Men. They could be so emotional sometimes, and yet they’d blame women for not having control of themselves. A small smirk makes its way onto your face as you read Namjoon’s sheepish request, asking that you send him a new tape recorder, since he’d destroyed his in a fit of rage before moving to the cottage.

Part of you wanted to laugh at his impulsiveness, but the other part of you felt sorrow for all the work he’d probably lost, just because of one rash mistake. You didn’t want him to feel sad. You wanted him to feel empowered to create, to make music again. And so, you set out on your quest to find one. The winding city streets took you on quite a journey, passing by various cafes and bookshops and parks, but you didn’t let yourself get distracted. You were a woman on a mission. 

Your search finally took you to a little electronics store on the outskirts of your neighbourhood, and you look through the various tape recorders, wondering which color Namjoon would like. You wonder if he’s finally ready to start making music again, and smile when you think about being able to hear his songs again.

Paying for the tape recorder, you gather your things and walk out into the street, headphones in your ears. You’ve just stepped into the intersection when you hear a scream, feeling something slam into you from behind, sending you hurtling to the ground. Your ankle twists out of position as you topple over, and pain explodes across your entire leg as you hit the ground, scratching your hands.

Lying there, your mind chooses not to focus on how much pain you’re in, or the fact that you’re now bleeding. Instead you hyperfixate on the tape recorder that lies a few feet away, wondering how you were ever going to help Namjoon make his songs now. 

You don’t know how many moments pass like this.

Waking up, you hear the beeps of a blood pressure monitor, pain trickling from the back of your head down to your ankle. You’re not in your room. It’s a hospital bed, and across from you, you see Hyung-seo looking at you with concern, jolting up out of her seat when she sees your eyes are open.

“Here, drink some water,” she offers you a cup, and you accept, the liquid soothing your parched throat. “You sprained your ankle, please take it easy.”

“Hyung-seo,” you croak to her, still worrying about the tape recorder and Namjoon. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

. . . 

2 years ago, 2020

Namjoon can’t stop running. He’s probably run further down the beach than he should have, the house disappearing until it’s ceased to be a speck in the distance, disappearing completely from his view. He stops himself, bracing his hands on his knees, and heaves in a few deep breaths, suddenly realizing he forgot to feed Bokboki before he went out. 

He hadn’t been able to think straight for the past few days, opening the mailbox every couple of hours anticipating a tape recorder and another letter from you, but instead, he found nothing. At first, he was worried that something had happened to you. But as the days went on, an ugly feeling settled inside Namjoon’s chest. One that convinced him that you were ignoring him, that you’d purposefully grown tired of your interactions, and now wanted nothing to do with him. Maybe you’d found someone new.

Namjoon stumbles towards the ocean, feeling the waves lap at his feet, soaking through his running shoes. Fury floods his mind when he thinks of how open, how honest he’d been with everyone in his life, sacrificing his own damn mind to make them happy. And now, he didn’t even get the same back.

He wades deeper into the water, his waterlogged feet meeting resistance, and screams, his hands pulling at the strands of his hair. And then he screams again, louder this time. But no one is there to hear him.

It’s at least an hour before he returns to the house, shoes soaked with mud. Before he goes inside, he decides to peer inside the mailbox, knowing it’ll probably be worthless. As he opens the rust-covered door, his heart sinks with guilt when he sees a letter from you, and the tape recorder he’d so anxiously been waiting.

He wants to punch himself for his impatience when he reads the note, explaining that you’d met with a small accident and had been in the hospital for a couple days. His heart aches with concern for you? Were you okay? Did his selfish request cause you to get hurt?

Closing the door behind him, Namjoon looks at the tape recorder, wondering if it had even been worth it to ask for it from you. Would it really get him to work on his album? Or would it just taunt him as another reminder of his failures in life.

Sighing, he clicks the play button, ready to make the most of it no matter the outcome. But then he pauses. The sound of the tape is faint, but he can hear a voice on it. Your voice. You’re singing. Your voice is raspy, sounding unpolished, yet also rings clear and sweet. You riff a little melody, adding words that sound like a lullaby and Namjoon feels a pang in his chest. You sound so beautiful.

You end the brief recording with a laugh, apologizing for wasting space on the recorder, and telling him he can delete it. But Namjoon doesn’t delete it.

Bent over his desk, he takes the sincere melody and crafts it into a beat of his own, his low voice joining yours in perfect harmony.

With numerous thorns

The morning that comes and goes

In my own way

I'm gonna anesthetize myself, yeah-yeh

Present Day, 2022

Ride the A1 bus all the way until the second last stop. 

When you get off you’ll find a tree-lined street on both sides. 

If you cut through the patch of trees on the southwest, and walk exactly 1,632 steps, you’ll stumble upon something extraordinary.

I hope you like walking.

Holding the piece of paper with directions to your chest, you fight off a sheepish smile, heart pumping loudly in your ears as you think about Namjoon’s directions for your little “date”.

It wasn’t a real date, you see. The two of you had decided to send each other on adventures in your own time, but Namjoon had called it a date. The thought made you absolutely giddy. You hadn’t been on a date since Taehyung. As strange as it felt to be going somewhere on your own and calling it a date, it felt like Namjoon was with you, his spirit trapped in the letters of the page, leading you to somewhere wonderful.

You count your steps carefully as you walk, the trees lining your path on both sides, just like Namjoon had said. You marvel at their height, the blue sky peeking out from the canopy of their lives. Continuing to count each precise step, you look down at the ground until you reach 1,632. When you look up, you suck in a breath.

It’s a field full of wildflowers, the vibrant colors peeking through the grass like the twinkling of stars in a midnight sky. Your smile widens as you run into the field, laughing at the smell of the beautiful blooms, tracing your fingers along their delicate petals.

Finding a spot to put your bag down, you pull out your notebook, and begin to sketch, the wind ruffling your hair and Namjoon’s field of flowers keeping you company.

. . . 

2 years ago, 2020

Namjoon steps through the gallery, keeping his head down to avoid being recognized, sipping the coffe from the café you’d told him to go to before ending up here.

I think there’s an artist you’ll like, your letter had read, and Namjoon, like the smitten fool he was, was powerless against his own two feet as he immediately set off in search of the mysterious paintings. 

He hadn’t meant for the word date to come out. It just had. He knew you were lonely like this, and even though he couldn’t be there to erase your loneliness in person, he figured sending you to the wildflowers would be the next best thing. And it was. You’d excitedly written back, explaining that you’d come back with at least a dozen new sketches, ready to paint and turn into cyanotype. Namjoon had leaned back in his chair, his grin wider than the ocean, his heart pounding in his chest and his palms becoming sweaty when he thought about your smile, and remembered your beautiful laugh from the tape recording. 

The gallery isn’t busy this time of day, but he avoids talking to anyone, instead making a beeline for the corner you’d talked about. When he comes upon it, his jaw drops open in shock.

The strokes of the piece are ragged, burnt umber and ultramarine blue blending into a series of minimalist lines, the points where they blend creating a black deeper than any night sky Namjoon had seen.

Moving closer, he studies everything, from the worn canvas, to spots where the paint appears thicker in one area than another. The simplicity of the piece blows Namjoon away - the honesty portrayed within, showing him that he doesn’t need to be flamboyant or ostentatious to make an impact. Minimalism spoke words.

Glancing down at the artist’s title card, he sees the name. Yun Hyong-keun.

Namjoon comes home and fires up his computer, looking up interviews and more about Yun, mesmerized by the artist’s perspective on life, emphasizing his own humanity before his duties as an artist.

After his research, Namjoon pens a thank you to you for showing him the work. Coming up on the end of the letter, a bold thought crosses his mind, and he dares to write it down.

___, I’d like to meet you in person if that’s okay? Can we meet here, on this very beach? I’ll give you a day, closer to your time, so you don’t have to wait. How about December 13, 2022 at 3:00? Let me know if that works.

- Namjoon

Present Day, 2022

You slam the dress onto the countertop, the cashier looking at you in surprise.

“Aren’t you going to try it on?” she asks, one eyebrow raised. 

“Nope, just pack it up, please,” you implore her, blushing at the bold red fabric you’d picked out. Namjoon couldn’t miss you in this.

You were losing it. The date he’d given you was in three days! Not nearly enough time to prepare. How was it fair that he got a whole two years and you only got a couple of days. You wanted to meet him, but you also weren’t ready. You wondered what he’d be like. If he’d be the same as you imagined him to be, or different. Whether his voice would sound as deep and melodious as the strings of a cello, or if he had short hair or long hair. In any case, you were sure he’d be wonderful.

The next couple of days pass by in nervous anticipation, with you talking nonstop to Bokboki about your hopes and fears for the foretold meeting. You re-read all the letters you’ve shared with Namjoon before bed, wanting to impress him with how well you know him.

When the sun rises two days later, you rise bright and early with it, hopping in the shower, making sure your hair is styled to perfection, and not a smudge of makeup is out of place. You feel shy putting in so much effort, but you didn’t want Namjoon to think you were a slob. Finally, you slip on the red dress, amazed at how it fits like a glove. 

Studying yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but notice that your skin looks brighter, your cheeks rosier, your hair shinier. You look like life has found its way to you once more, imbuing you with an overall glow that hadn’t existed since before you broke up with Taehyung. Your cheeks flush when you realize Namjoon is the reason for the glow, and you shake your head, banishing all your intrusive thoughts from your mind before slipping on your coat and running out the door.

It feels like the cab ride to the beach is longer today, your leg bouncing up and down in anticipation. When you finally see the beach come into view, you ask the cab driver to stop then and there, not even waiting for them to take you all the way up, instead throwing a handful of bills you hope will cover the ride.

You leap and sprint down the beach, until you reach right behind, the house, where Namjoon said he’d be. Looking around, your face falls. No one is here. Not wanting to give up, you spend a few minutes combing up and down the beach, looking for another human in sight. But there’s no one.

Returning to the house, you let out a soft gasp when you see a man there, his messy black hair blowing in the wind. Dread fills you as you realize you don’t even know what Namjoon looks like. But maybe this was him? You decide to tread carefully.

“Excuse me?” you ask him, and he turns to study you, his eyes reminding you of Bokboki, looking right through you. “Are you here to meet someone by chance?”

His polite smile turns into a grimace, and he shakes his head.

“Whoever your Tinder date is, it’s not me, I’m afraid,” he says. 

“Why are you here then?” you question him, looking around at the abandoned beach. “No offense, but this isn’t exactly a tourist hotspot.”

“I had a friend who used to come here, said it inspired him to make art about the woman he loved,” the man says sadly, and you decide not to press on, giving him his privacy.

“Hey!” you hear from behind you, looking to see him waving at you. “Good luck with whoever you’re looking for. I hope you find them.”

. . . 

2 years ago, 2020

Namjoon wants to yank at the strands of his hair. He pushes his glasses back up onto the bridge, looking at your letter. He’s so fucking confused. He can imagine your small tears dripping onto the paper when you returned home from the beach, disappointed that he didn’t show. But Namjoon is bewildered. 

He wouldn’t have missed meeting you for the world. There was no single excuse, no event, that could have caused him to miss such an important day. Unless, of course, it wasn’t up to him.

Namjoon takes a walk outside the house, descending the stairs to the beach, the indigo scarf you’d given him wrapped tightly around his neck. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and sending a wish out in to the vast world, a wish for your paths to finally connect.

It hadn’t hit Namjoon until he procured the bouquet of wildflowers in excitement for your date, going to the very field he’d shown you. His excitement had been palpable, until he’d returned home to Bokboki staring him down, and he realized he still had two years to go, and the flowers were going to wilt.

His chest had ached with the realization that it would be a long time before he ever met you, and even then, your meeting wasn’t guaranteed. Running a hand through his newly cut hair, Namjoon was struck finally with the revelation that had been creeping up on him through all these months - he’d fallen in love with you. He couldn’t pin it down to a specific moment, but rather the momentous collection of all the times you’d talked to each other. He was in love with you, despite having never seen your face or talked to you in person. His heart was many things, but it wasn’t a liar.

Which is why it broke him to think that he may never have a chance to tell you how he felt in person. That you’d never realize the depth of his feelings, because maybe your paths weren’t meant to converge. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to show the world his love, in the chances that maybe one day, you’d see it and come looking for him.

Fingering the scarf, he looks at its mellow hue, so like the sea before him, and a single thought occupies his mind.

“Indigo,” he whispers. His new album would be called Indigo.

Present Day, 2022

Sipping on your coffee, your ears perk up when you hear a voice behind you, one you hadn’t heard in a long time.

“Seojin, I’ll make it home for the engagement party, you have nothing to worry about,” Taehyung’s deep voice fills your ears, the hairs on your arms coming to stand up as he talks to someone on the phone. Your coffee cup falls out of your hand, tipping over and spilling onto your shirt.

“Shit!” you curse as the hot liquid burns you.

“___? Is that you?” you hear Taehyung’s voice call out, and you turn away, gathering your things and hiding your face.

You hear footsteps come up beside you, Taehyung’s tall figure looming over you, and you inhale the scent of his cologne, closing your eyes.

“It is, isn’t it?” Taehyung looks over at your turnt figure, reaching out an arm to pull you to face him. You can’t even look him in the eyes, instead looking at the floor. You want to tell him to go away, to fuck off, but you feel powerless and weak.

“Can we talk?” he says softly, and you don’t know why you nod. Maybe it’s finally to get the answers you’ve been searching for ever since you decided to wait for his letter in the mail.

You follow him listlessly to a table, looking out the window while he orders another coffee. Looking at your disinterested figure, you hear him let out a heavy sigh, before beginning to speak. 

“It wasn’t easy being abroad, having to study there all alone,” he begins, slipping off his coat. “At first, your letters gave me something to look forward to. But then I got tired of feeling so alone. I grew close to one of my colleagues, who was by my side the entire time. We’re getting married soon. I’m so sorry ___.”

Looking up at him, you know he can see the bloodshot look in your eyes, tears threatening to spill over the edge. You don’t say anything, throwing your coat over your shoulders and running out of the cafe, your feet aching in your heels until you’re all the way home.

Slumping onto the floor, you lean your head against the window, watching the rain fall softly outside. Bokboki piles into your lap with a soft meow, and you stroke his head, continuing to watch outside. Opening the drawer to the coffee table, you reach inside, finding the framed photo of you and Taehyung, your smiles taunting you from the other side of the frame.

Things had been so simple back then. You’d loved each other, you’d wanted to spend the rest of your lives together. So why hadn’t it worked out?

Immediately, your thoughts drift to Namjoon, and how you hadn’t been able to connect with him. Were you just doomed to be alone for the rest of your life?

No. You get up, traveling to your desk to pull out another piece of paper. You could change this. You could fix things between you and Taehyung. You could cure this crippling loneliness you felt. And you knew just the person to ask.

. . .

2 years ago, 2020

I thought I could forget him. But, from the moment I heard his voice, it all came back to me. The fact that he loves someone else, and the fact that I’m aware of that, and I still love him, brings me more pain than I can ever admit. I’m sorry that I’m asking you this, but please help me. Please help me not to lose him. I’m sorry, Namjoon.

Namjoon stares blankly at the letter, unable to process the words on the page that you’d written. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and clears his mind of all the thoughts currently at war with one another. He couldn’t think about what you’d just asked of him. He didn’t want to think about it, knowing his heart would splinter even further at the fact that you loved someone else. Someone who wasn’t him.

Leaving the safety of the beach house, he decides the fresh air will help him clear his head, catching a cab to the city. When he bids the driver goodbye, he wanders aimlessly through the streets, people all around him, and yet Namjoon can’t stop thinking about you.

You, who was never meant to be in his life except as a fleeting presence, as transient and ephemeral as the trains that stopped at each station, before continuing on their journey. He knew now that your paths were never meant to cross, and that he had to make his own way in this world, as alone as he’d been before he met you.

The dreadful realization hits him that he needs to leave the beach house - he couldn’t stay there any longer. It was too full of memories, ones he’d made while writing to you, and as painful as it was to forget them, it was time to let go.

He decides to catch the bus on his way back, standing alone at the stop, until suddenly, he’s joined by another person. Turning around, he sees a woman next to him. Her eyes meet his, and widen at his indigo scarf, looking closely at it. Namjoon coughs, and she averts her eyes. Something about her seemed familiar, but she was probably just another stranger. Namjoon wants to talk to her, to be able to talk to someone else besides you. He opens his mouth to make a comment about his scarf, but is interrupted when a tall, well-dressed man swoops in, his arm wrapping around the woman. 

The bus chooses that moment to arrive, and he watches the two of them climb on, the women looking back at him with a frown on her face when he fails to join them, his feet glued to the ground.

Not wanting to wait for the next bus, Namjoon walks towards the nearest cab, falling asleep on the ride home.

When he’s finally in the safety of his room again, he decides to write you again, knowing this will be the last letter he ever sends you. Because he loved you, and he wanted you to be happy with who you loved, he knew it was time to let you go.

Present Day, 2022

Holding your portfolio in your hands, your fingers tremble with excitement as you get off the bus, stepping right onto the street where Cypher Labels was located. You’d had a creative breakthrough, and someone finally wanted to hire you!

You would write to Namjoon and tell him the good news, of course. You bite your lip, worrying about him. You hadn’t heard from him since he sent the later saying he’d help you reunite with Taehyung. You had nothing but immense gratitude and affection for him in your heart. He was truly a good person, and you hoped only the best would find him in life. 

Do you remember the very first letter? You wished me luck in the house the sea built. This time, I wish you luck. I hope I can help you find what you’re looking for.

You step into the offfice, and the only two people there are two hushed men whispering to each other. At the sound of your heels clacking against the floor, they look up. The shorter of the two studies you curiously, and you can’t help but feel like he’s familiar. Maybe it’s his eyes which pierce through you.

“___! It’s you, right?” the other one gives you a heart shaped smile, his bubbly demeanor immediately putting you at ease. He beckons you to take a seat at the third chair.

“I’m Hoseok, and this is my business partner Yoongi. We’re so glad you could make it. Your artwork has us very intrigued.”

You blush at the compliment, holding your portfolio to your chest.

“Do you mind telling me a little bit about the album and the project itself?”

Hoseok looks over at Yoongi, his face suddenly falling, and Yoongi gives him a tilt of his chin.

“This project is, uh, it’s special to us,” Hoseok says softly. “It’s for a friend that we lost. He used to work with us here at the label, and we were so excited when we got the drafts from him. He’d been struggling to make music, but he moved out to the beach and began talking to someone, and he finally told us he was ready to share the music inspired by his time out there with the world. The album is called Indigo, named after a scarf he was given by the woman he loved, who inspired most of the pieces on the album.”

Your face pales at Hoseok’s description. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be true.

“We lost him in a car accident nearly a year and half ago. He was on his way to meet someone.”

“W-what was his name?” you manage to choke out in a whisper, and you see Yoongi’s nostrils flare at the tears that have collected in your eyes.

“His name was Namjoon.”

You’re up and running out of the studio before you can even process the news, sobs pouring from your body as you keep going, unable to keep the tears at bay.

Namjoon had loved you. He fell in love with you through the letters he wrote, and now he was gone. Gone after he was on his way to meet someone. You do the math in your head, and realize a year and a half ago was the day in Namjoon’s life after you’d written to him, asking him to help bring you and Taehyung together.

Your heart clutches in your chest, and you double over in pain. The album had been for you. It had all been for you, every little thing Namjoon had done. And now he was gone, and he’d never know the truth.

The truth that you’d realized after reading Namjoon’s response, after hearing his willingness to sacrifice his own happiness to ensure yours. That you’d fallen in love with him too.

Sniffling into your sleeve, you pull out your phone, calling a cab. When it arrives, the driver asks you for your destination, and you hesitate, not able to give the address to your apartment. That’s when it hits you. You could change things, just like you’d asked him to. You could write him a letter and deliver it to the mailbox, so hopefully, he wouldn’t go out that day to meet you and Taehyung. You could save him, so that he’d have a full and complete life like he deserved, even if it would never be by your side.

Giving the driver the address to the beach house, you pull your sketchbook out of your pocket, scribbling furiously on the paper.

Namjoon, please listen to me. Please don’t go to wherever me and Taehyung are, I’m begging you. Please listen, please stay home. 

The driver zooms towards the beach, sensing the urgency caused by your tears, and you nearly sob in relief when you see the house coming into view, not even waiting for the car to come to a full stop before you’re running towards the mailbox. Panting, you struggle to breathe against your tears, shoving the letter in the mailbox, hoping, praying that you’re not too late.

You collapse on the ground, whispering a silent prayer against the sand, hoping it wasn’t too late to show him your last act of love - saving his life.

Namjoon’s timeline, 1.5 years in the future

Namjoon never thought he’d return to the beach house, resolving to abandon it the moment he’d let go of you. But then he’d gotten the mysterious letter in the mailbox, telling him to stay home, and he figured he had to go investigate. Coming up upon the rickety house, it’s the exact same as he left it - the worn wood and creaky boards of the walkway. The sea around hasn’t changed either, the waves as calm as the day he’d moved in.

Except for the boxes. Namjoon’s eyes widen in surprise when there are a dozen or so boxes outside the door. Someone was finally moving in. Namjoon clutches the letter and waits by the mailbox, suddenly frozen. He didn’t know why he’d come here. As much as his feet wanted to turn back, he couldn’t.

He hears the door open, and a woman steps outside, wearing the same indigo scarf that he had around his neck, and in an instant, he knows it’s you. You’re even more beautiful than he could have imagined, and now he’s finally found you.

“___,” he calls out to you, and you look up to see where the deep voice is coming from,lips parting when you see Namjoon making his way towards the door.

You stare at him in silence for a few moments, and Namjoon is worried you don’t recognize him, that in this timeline, he means nothing to you, and his heart curls into itself, preparing for the inevitable heartbreak.

“Namjoon?” you whisper. “Is it really you?”

“I got your letter,” he shudders with a sob, holding out the piece of paper. He feels a raindrop splash on his head, and then another, before the heavens open and it begins to pour soaking you both.

Namjoon stays where he is, marveling at the fact that you’re finally here, right beside him. You step towards him, reaching for his scarf to pull him towards you, your lips pressing gently against his own. His arms come up to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him, his lips parting to engulf your own in a more passionate kiss, his cold fingers stroking your warm cheeks. Despite the raging storm around you, Namjoon finally feels at peace, the two of you finally finding your shared moment of forever, here in the house the sea built.

A/N pt. 2: Well now I’m fucking sad. But in all seriousness, I hope you enjoyed  reading this as much as I did writing it. And again, I hope it can provide some comfort. As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

taglist: @miscelunaaa @luaspersona @whoisbts @blumenfeld @rapmonie2047 @little-dark-empress @lovemepie67 @ggukkieland @joonsytip @namjooningelsewhere @chrisellaxxjung @jub-jub @outro-kook @kamilamb @coffeedepressionsoup @fujinogf @wecanpretendit @lovely-joon @rkivian​ @rebloginfics​ @firesighgirl​ 

[animentality]

Durgetash is beautiful because like. Take this from the the canon dragonborn Durge perspective for instance. There’s nothing in game that suggests Gortash decorated his whole outfit with dragon motifs, complete with medallions that literally look like Durge’s profile, on purpose. In honour of his love or even as a way to keep him close after he loses him, but there’s equally nothing in the game to say that ISN’T the case either.

The game just presents you with this guy decorated head to toe in dragons despite not really having a dragon theme outside of that, whose dragonborn business partner who was canonically his nearest and dearest. And you could lose sleep over what that could possibly mean if you want, but we’re never getting an actual answer, because there probably isn’t one that the devs actually thought about.

And yeah maybe Gortash just thinks dragons are cool in the most insignificant not-deep sense, or maybe it is just an exaggeration along the lines of Bane’s specific fondness for black and green dragons. Totally reasonable explanations. It could just be a huge coincidence that the only genuine friend of Gortash’s that we’re aware of in the entire scope of the game is a dragonborn.

But the fact that it’s so easy to connect those dots if you want? That’s the beauty of it. The delusion feeds itself!!!

Anon, listen.

I'm holding your face in my head and pressing my lips to your head and hugging you close to my chest so you can match heart beats with me....

Gortash technically CAN'T be wearing Bane symbols if he's gonna be a weaselly politician. You're not supposed to be worshipping Bane. But that begs the question.

Why dragons?

Cuz he just thinks they're neat?

Or is he boning one

I'm just saying. If he was supposed to be more vaguely Bane ish, he should be wearing green and black, which is certainly an evil color scheme.

But why red?

Maybe because his boyfriend is red?

But seriously, it does bother me. Like he doesn't worship Tiamat or some shit.

If it's supposed to be Bane iconography, why would he wear it at all?

Plus it isn't green...

Maybe he just got it commissioned when he was thinking of the Dark Urge.

Maybe he thought of them as fearless, and he was happy to be their equal.

to wear iconography bearing his likeness, to give himself strength.

just think about it, anon, then get back to me.

[daily-teki]

Day 114: I don’t actually have anything for today bc I’m working on sum moar sprites but drawing her based off her 4-koma and anniversary art I noticed that she’s drawn to look a lot like sara. So you can have my shitty little lightheaded theory instead.

The pose really got me, and even the eye and body shape, and the way the bangs are parted are almost a parody of the titular character so tied to the death game. I was doing a silly little thing over on the dailies’ discord server the other day trying to get an estimate of the floormasters’ heights from comparing their pixel sprites with other characters who have canon heights, and when I took off the extra height of teki’s platform boots from her memory dance sprite, she even had the same pixel sprite height (which was a little bit of a bummer bc I was having fun and it felt a bit like cheating).

Which had me thinking; maybe teki was made out of a base of one of the old sara dolls as a bit of a ‘toy’ for Asunaro to play around with designwise before they’d perfected making the dolls? Her hair looks much simpler and flatter than any of the other humanoid doll characters despite how long her extensions are, almost like a beta test of what could be done. It’d kinda be fitting for the toughest attraction boss to be built with the base of the most efficient candidate of the death game.

(Obviously this isn’t meant to be taken too seriously, just shower thoughts based on neat coincidences ig. Lmk your thoughts on it)

[opal-inna]

Alhaitham is King Deshret megapost

Genshin Impact Lore / Speculation

I’m fairly certain that Alhaitham is either King Deshret reincarnated or is related to him in another way. There’s plenty of visual and lore evidence to back this up, hence I decided to compile it into this post. Note that I didn't include the latest content from 3.4 as I didn't familiarize myself with the new lore. This is a copy of my twitter thread.

This post is by no means 100% complete, since I couldn’t find all of it myself and I will be adding more once other evidence is presented. Feel free to send me more lore and visual hints via DMs and replies and I will add them to the thread. And if you have your own theories, please discuss them in the replies or rb with your own thoughts.

Part 1: Visual Evidence

A bit of storytime.

I’ve been familiar with the King Deshret theory a while back, but I wasn’t 100% convinced back then. However, during my time exploring the Mausoleum of King Deshret I encountered this. Notice the symbol on the ceiling, looking like the symbol on Alhaitham’s chest.

That’s when I stopped having doubts.

After looking closer, I’ve noticed many other design choices from Alhaitham’s appearance to motives of King Deshret’s civilization. I will list them below, note however, that this isn’t all of them, because I’ve only selected the most important ones, despite there being dozens of smaller ones, for the sake of making this post as concise as possible.

Motive of a blue eye

Symbol on Alhaitham's chest, motive of feathers

Motive on his boots

Motive oh a hawk

There were many statues of hawk like creatures, possibly being the statues of Deshret himself. It's also notable that Alhaitham means "young hawk" or "young eagle" in arabic. There's also a lot of other bird motives which I might list later, if you'd like.

Okay, but all of the above is just clothing and coincidences, isn’t it? These things could be attributed to him being a Haravatat member, and his interest in ancient scripts (so history and culture too) of King Deshret, no?

Ignoring the fact that Haravatat mainly focuses on linguistics, whereas it’s Vahumana that focuses on history and culture, there are other visual clues to suggest that Alhaitham isn’t who he seems.

This gem, however weird it might be, doesn’t seem to be a part of his clothing, given that it’s detached from it. Instead, it looks like it’s a part of his body. Despite the color change (more on that later) it’s suspiciously similar to these symbols.

This likeness of King Deshret also conspicuously has a gem in the chest area. The gem also is highlighted, meaning it’s probably important.

This isn’t even subtle.

While weird pupils are not uncommon for Sumeru’s playable characters, Alhaitham’s eyes are a direct copy of King Deshret’s likeness from the cutscene. The choice of blue/green iris combined with an orange pupil is peculiar, because nowhere in the game do we see such different colors just clash with each other. This choice was deliberate and I believe it’s hyv giving us a hint.

Part 2: Lore evidence

There is also some evidence in the lore of both characters.

But first, a little bit of Honkai lore.

This won’t be long, because I’m not as familiar with Honkai lore. Most of my research here is based on what I found from the internet and wiki and not the original source material. However, it’s important to mention it, because Alhaitham is a Su expy and some more concrete evidence is found in Su’s lore.

Su, in Honkai universe, is a leader of Project Valuka. This name doesn’t sound familiar at first, until you remember the Aranara questline. 

“Valuka” is Aranara speech for the desert, and the ruler of Valuka is none other than King Deshret.

If Alhaitham is a Su expy and Su has a lot in common with King Deshret, then the parallel between these characters seem more than just neat design choices.

However, it gets even more interesting. Because Su from Honkai prior to the game’s events “had imprisoned himself in the Seed of Sumeru as an act of redemption” - (direct quote from the wiki).

Which smoothly brings me to my next point, which is:

Part 3: The why - how is it even relevant?

Okay, so they are similar in their design. But does that mean they’re actually the same person? And how is it relevant?

Well, it brings the personality of both in another perspective.

If you’re unfamiliar with King Deshret’s lore, here’s a quick recap of the most relevant points.

King Deshret was one of the three rulers of Sumeru with Greater Lord Rukkhadevata and Goddess of Flowers. He was also deeply in love with the Goddess of Flowers and she was aware of his affections. He was proud and foolish. After the archon war ended was offered a gnosis by the Celestia, but he declined.

One day, he told her what his greatest dream was. Though unspecified, his dream involved rebelling against the divine. Despite her warning, he insisted she showed him “all there is to know about the skies and the abyss”. As a result of this ritual she perished, though King Deshret was unaware she did it intentionally.

After her passing, King Deshret was unable to move on and his sorrow drove him to madness. He created an utopia, which was supposed to be “free of worry, schemes and slavery”. He either created it to eradicate forbidden knowledge, but failed, or he tried to create an utopia and caused the forbidden knowledge to spread (more likely according to “The Lay of Al-Ahmar. Note that the validity of this book isn’t determined). Whatever the case might be, the result was that countless of his people died that very night.

After the leakage of forbidden knowledge, King Deshret and Rukkhadevata joined efforts to get rid of it. In order to do that King Deshret sacrificed himself and Greater Lord Rukkhadevata used most of her powers.

You might have noticed that these two characters, despite few similarities, are completely different from one another. One is cautious and reserved, and another is foolish, ignorant and sentimental. So, here’s my theory.

I believe that Alhaitham is King Deshret’s reincarnation, but without his memories. Not only that, but in my opinion the difference in their personalities seems intentional. Whether it was King Deshret’s reflection upon himself or Alhaitham’s own choices, it looks like Alhaitham purposely avoids acting like Deshret.

Deshret doesn’t think before he acts - Alhaitham’s demo trailer is literally called “Think before you act”. Deshret becomes a king and destroys his own kingdom - Alhaitham avoids situations in which he’d be placed as a leader, saying he’s not good in this role.

It could be King Deshret’s or Rukkhadevata’s design (more on that later) or Alhaitham’s conclusion based on his research in King Deshret’s legacy. It’s possible he’s even aware or suspects his own relation to him, as he’s very intelligent. 

Part 4: The how- Is it even possible?

In short, yes. There are many hints towards the possibilities of reincarnation in the story. This might be simply another samsara or a more direct intervention, for example of Greater Lord Rukkhadevata.

Nahida, being Rukkhadevata in the next samsara is just the beginning. In the Aranara questline, the Aranara say that death is just a loss of memories. Next we have Flower of Paradise Lost artifact set, in which it is said "Those who bloom like flowers, die like flowers, and rise again with the seasons like flowers can never be troubled by the likes of 'death.’” (these are the words of the Goddess of Flowers, perhaps about herself, but I can’t say that for sure).

Staff of the Scarlet Sands polearm description says: “Fear and grief must be torn down, and so the barrier between life and death must be removed”. (This is about him building his own utopia, mentioned previously).

Even if those interpreted individually mean different things, having so many mentions of rebirth is certainly worth taking into account. But how did King Deshret in particular get reincarnated?

Notice, how in this cutscene, King Deshret is removed to a single crystal, before disappearing. It appears as purple at first, but then changes color to a greenish blue.

Very similar in fact, to another gem.

In my opinion, this is Deshret’s soul - an empty husk without his memories. Why does it appear green in Alhaitham’s chest? Well, I think it was the Greater Lord who rescued him. Using her power of life she gave him another chance. It could have happend in another way, but I find it the most plausible.

Either way, regardless of the means, we can’t rule out reincarnation as a possibility.

Part 5: Conclusion

Keep in mind that this evidence isn’t directly stating that Alhaitham is King Deshret. Other than his eyes being the exact copy of King Deshret’s image (which usually would imply the same soul/identity), all this evidence is pointing out to them having a relation, not necessarily being the same person.

With that said, I am fairly convinced on that being the case. I encourage you to discuss it in the reblogs and share any interesting evidence you’ve found.

[drewsbuzzcut]

I love their romance feels realistic for their age as well. Although I would love to have a blurb of them doing LDR when he’s in the NHL and she’s in Paris. Alternatively a day of them spending in an Paris

So I haven’t actually decided if Dallas will live in Paris or if she turns down the offer. For the sake of this request, we’ll say she’s in Paris for a little bit during Nick’s first year in the NHL

warnings: minor angst

Dallas makes her way up to her tiny apartment, coffee in one hand and a roll of fabric in the other. She struggles with slotting her key in the keyhole, the shrill ring of her phone making her nerves heighten. She knows who’s calling her and she shouldn’t be so annoyed by it, but she is.

“Yes?” She says into the phone that’s now between her cheek and shoulder, voice short and hard.

Between the stress of finishing her first 5 pieces of her collection and Nick’s schedule not coinciding with hers, Dallas feels like she’s hanging by a single, tattered thread.

“Woah. What’s wrong?” Nick asks. She doesn’t even have to see him to know his eyebrows are furrowed and he’s biting at his lip.

“What isn’t wrong? My deadline is nearing its end and I still have one piece to work on. My fabric choices aren’t vast, so I’m literally hauling myself into any and every fabric store to find what I need. Oh! And I can’t talk to you right now,” she huffs into the phone, finally pushing her door open.

Her lips part to allow oxygen into her lungs. Her hair that was neat an hour ago, is now all over the place. Strands pulled out from her hairstyle now lay over her forehead and get caught in her mouth as she talks.

“Babe, it’ll be okay. You’re a fashion genius, you’ll figure it out. But, what do you mean you can’t talk?” He tries to hype her up, but he’s a little lackluster because she can’t talk.

“I already told you, Nick. My schedule is strict. I was available for a phone call yesterday- one that you were available for as well, but then you said that something came up. You’re the one who canceled our call yesterday, so yeah, I can’t talk today,” Dallas snaps, a hand pressing into her forehead to prevent the headache she already feels from draining her completely.

“I’m sorry, okay? I had something important that I couldn’t just cancel, but surely you can take a little break,” he says, trying to keep calm.

“I take a break every time I step away from the damn sewing machine to look for fabric, or to eat for fucks sake. I can’t do this right now. I need to let you go,” she rants and clicks the red button on her phone.

She inhales and exhales deep breaths and lets her tears drip down her cheeks. She feels bad for snapping at him, but he can’t expect her to drop everything when he won’t. You get what you give.

She stomps through the tiny layout of her temporary home, flinging herself on her bed and dialing Nick’s number.

“Hey,” he whispers.

“I’m sorry. I’m so stressed. If I don’t get this last piece figured out, then all of this will just be a waste of time and money. Money I can’t afford to lose out on. I can’t even begin to fathom what the investors will tell other companies about my capabilities. It doesn’t help that I miss you every single second of the day. I wish I was with you. Why did I come to Paris?” Dallas rants, her tears evident in the way her breathing stalls and her soft sniffles.

“Baby, I love you. You’re my wife and my wife is amazing at what she does. You’re having trouble right now, but you’ll figure it out. Once you do, you’ll be unstoppable. This isn’t a waste and those investor assholes don’t have any room to talk badly about you. I miss you so much, June bug. We’re going to be okay, though. Only a month left until you come back to me, or I can go to you. We can spend a week or two and do all the things you were too busy to do,” Nick soothes her. It feels like she’s being kissed through the phone.

She misses him so much.

“Promise?” Her voice is scratchy, but Nick can hear the vulnerability.

“I promise.”

“I love you, Nicky. Tell me about your day. Maybe I can spark up some up inspiration,” she allows herself one moment of peace, listening to her husband’s voice.

[imhumanguysiswear]

A big part of Vee character I think is about her reclaiming her identity back from what the emperor coven made of her (and they managed to do it very well in the only two episodes with her!)

They gave her no name, called her by cell number, treated her like a monster and forced her to kill and shapeshift and Vee, instead of hiding it all in a locked box in her mind and running away never looking back, instead decided to reclaim it all back

Her name is her number, V (the roman five) and e (e is the fifth letter of the alphabet, which i think is just a coincidence but is it neat?), she has the number five on her phone, she assumes her basilisk form at every opportunity, she even incorporated parts of it in her human disguise (the eyes and the ears), when human she isn’t another copy of Luz, but you can tell she is a Noceda

They called her a monster and instead she won’t hurt even to defend herself, but if she needs to defend her family she will then be said monster

[ooachilliaoo]

In All But Name - Brothers

“It will all take time to arrange,” Alistair said, poring over the figures littered across his desk. “If we can keep back some of this year’s harvest and next year’s is good, we should have enough to make generous gifts across the city and farmlands.”

“Or,” Teagan suggested, “and I hesitate to say this, given how long we’ve all been waiting for this very moment, but you could have a smaller affair.”

Alistair grinned. “Not a chance. Besides, we’ve all worked hard to make Ferelden prosperous after the blight, and the breach, and the mage rebellion, and the million other things that have tried to destroy or beggar us… It’s high time we all celebrated the fruits of our labours.”

“What a coincidence then that you should happen to get betrothed just as the country is prosperous enough to support such a lavish celebration!”

“Isn’t it? One might almost think it had been planned.”

“Was it though?” Teagan said quickly, immediately taking the opening he had given him. “Come on, Alistair, you’re betrothed to her. Now, surely, you can tell some of us the truth?”

Alistair adopted an air of nonchalance only because he knew it would annoy Teagan the most. “I don’t know what you are referring to.”

“Yes, you do, you little…”

“Careful,” he interrupted, unable to stop grinning broadly again. “Threatening a king is treason, you know.”

Teagan muttered something under his breath that might have sounded like ‘I wasn’t threatening the king, I was threatening an ass’ but Alistair chose to ignore it.

“So, you’ll see about saving the extra from the harvest?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” Teagan said, offering him an exaggerated bow along with the sarcasm.

“Good. Now, let us…”

But before they could return to planning the lavish celebrations that were to accompany the royal wedding – the size and scale of which all needed to be decided before an actual date could be set – they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Sorry,” Fergus said, poking his head into the room. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. But I think Ren mumbled something about you wanting to see me privately as soon as Elissa was out of the way?”

Alistair’s initial smile on seeing the man who had become one of his closest friends over the years quickly faded as he recalled his reason for asking Ren to send Fergus to him in confidence.

“I did,” he said, arranging the papers on his desk into a neat pile just to give his hands something to do. He’d found over the years that it was a particularly useful means of covering any inconvenient nervousness. “Thank you, Teagan. That will be all for now.”

Read the rest on AO3

Read the full series here

[peachesofteal]

I recently started use tumblr then i discovered your account by coincidence and then throught it I immersed myself in the whole COD fandom thing. What i want to say is, Thank you for giving me something to forward to 🤍 i fr always check tumblr like three times a day just to see if you posted something like you got me hooked on evertginv you post 🥺 Seriously your writing (especially Dead Disco) validated alot of feelings I've been having in my life that i thought weren't normal. I know this is long and probably weird but i have wanted to send you this for a while. I guess I just want to say thank you for being here for me even if you didn't know it 🤍🤍

P.S Simple Math's update was so good I've already reread it like 4 times

This isn’t weird it’s so sweet and you’re so kind, thank you taking the time to write and send this to me! I’m so flattered that you enjoy my work like this. It’s such a neat thing to connect with others over these stories and I’m really honored. Thank you 🩵

[blazingstar24]

Crazy idea: Could the Eve of Crimson Midnight tie into Ludinus’s Ruidian connections?

Think about this: we know Ludinus isn’t Ruidusborn, he’s told us this himself. However, he also said he has his connections to Predathos. And with Imogen gaining that new feat, something we also seen Ludinus do, implies that somehow he does have some of the Ruidusborn powers.

The easy explanation is the harness or Q.array. But my question to that is how did he know who to target before sucking one up? Ruidusborns are outcasts, no one is publicly announcing themself as Ruidusborn. There’s no distinguishing features, Imogen’s lighting marks are not seen on other Rudiusborn. So either, Ludinus just coincidently drained a Ruidusborn and went oh neat! Or he saw a Ruidusborn in action and then targeted them.

I’ve played around with both ideas. In the case of it being an accidental thing, it does play into his sudden switch in research and him suddenly being contacted by Predathos. If he had accidentally transferred the seed into himself, it would explain why Predathos suddenly reached out to a non Ruidusborn.

In the case of it being on purpose, well where else could he have encountered one? Perhaps the aptly named Eve of Crimson Midnight? It was said to be a wizard fight that destroyed two whole city blocks. Timeline wise, it happens before the Fall of Molaesmyr. How crazy would it be for the cause of the fight being a Ruidusborn going exultant? Ludinus emerges that event a hero, why? Because he stopped the fight and then forms the Cerberus Assembly. It’s very possible that is where he sees a Ruidusborn unleashed and decides to drain them. And then bam Predathos is a’calling. And what’s comes next again? The Fall of Molaesmyr. It would make sense of the wibbly wobbly timeline!

The only question is how many more times has he potentially drained a Ruidusborn.

[jokertrap-ran]

[Gakuen K] SCEPTER 4 Route: Tour and Observation Translation

*Translator’s note : MC’s name shall remain as my normal (水嶋ラン) *Gakuen K Masterlist / Gakuen K Mobile Masterlist *Spoiler FREE : Translations under cut !

Ran: (Whoa… This is the first time I’ve seen the Blue Club’s building, but it’s really huge!)

Ran: (If what Munakata-senpai said was true, then only members of the Blue Club are cleared to enter this building.)

Ran: (He said that the area was under constant security camera surveillance and that security guards would come right out if anything was amiss… Wait a minute. )

Ran: (If they had that many security measures in place, then how did I sneak in yesterday?)

Ran: (Were the security guards not around…?)

Fushimi: …You’re late.

Ran: Fushimi-kun? Were you waiting outside for me?

Fushimi: The captain told me to guide you around the area.

Ran: I see. Well, thanks for that.

Fushimi: I’m doing it out of reluctance only because I’ve been told to.

Ran: You’re actually pretty nice, aren’t you?

Fushimi: Are you even listening?

Ran: Hmm? I think I am. Don’t you?

⊳ Choice: How kind of you to be doing this.

Fushimi: I told you. I’m doing this reluctantly. It’s not like I want to do it either. Ran: Well, I still think you’re plenty kind if you’re doing it despite not wanting to. Fushimi: …… Fushimi: You’re an optimistic one, I’ll give you that.

⊳ Choice: But, still…

Ran: Still, I’m glad you’re here to guide me. Thank you, really. Fushimi: …Hmph.

Fushimi: Come on, you’re going to make us late.

Ran: Hey, wait!

»» ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♔◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ««

Ran: Wow… The Club Room actually looks very neat and organized.

Fushimi: This is the Club Room. Members of the Blue Club can enter and leave as they please.

Ran: Yesterday’s room wasn’t the Club Room?

Fushimi: That’s the Captain’s room.

Ran: I see… He has his own room? That’s kinda amazing…

Fushimi: You…

Ran: Hm?

Fushimi: You’ve been saying how amazing things are since you stepped foot in here… Is there another word in your dictionary other than “amazing”?

Ran: But I can’t help it! This is worlds different from what I thought a Clubroom should be!

Ran: I mean, this building looks like a first-class hotel from the outside and it’s really ama- oops.

Ran: (I almost said it again…)

Akiyama: —There you are, Fushimi-san.

Ran: Akiyama-senpai.

Akiyama: Oh, you're here too? Hello.

Ran: Hello.

Akiyama: Training is about to start, so Zenjo-san sent me here to inform you about it, but…

Fushimi: I'm busy playing guide.

Akiyama: I can see that. Under the Captain’s orders, I assume? Very well, I shall inform Zenjo-san about it. Later then.

Ran: What training?

Fushimi: Just some basic stamina-building. Something you'll have to join too, in due time.

»» ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♔◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ««

Fushimi: Tour’s over. Goodbye.

Ran: Hey, wait!

Fushimi: Tch… What?

Ran: Are you heading home now?

Fushimi: Can't I?

Ran: Let's walk together.

Fushimi: …

Ran: Can't we?

Fushimi: Do you… really have Abilities?

Ran: What?

Fushimi: While the Captain did tell me to give you a tour around the place, he also told me to look into those Abilities of yours.

Fushimi: I’ve been observing you, but I haven’t felt even the slightest trace of anything coming from you.

Fushimi: The power we witnessed back then… Was it all just a mere coincidence?

Ran: Well…

Fushimi: Well?

Ran: I don’t know. My ability isn’t something that I can turn on and off with a snap of the finger.

Ran: I don’t know how to control it, much less what my Ability even is…

Fushimi: The Captain has his eye out for you, so that’s of no matter, but you’re only a temporary member so don’t drag the rest of us down with you.

Ran: Ah… Fushimi-kun…

Ran: (I shouldn’t drag them down with me…)

»» ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♔◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ««

Yashiro: Join an Extraordinary Club. If you do, then your Club will see you as a friend. They should be able to protect you from any external forces.

Yashiro: Plus, they might even teach you how to control your powers since they’re Ability-users themselves. Wouldn’t want it to go berserk now, would we?

»» ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♔◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ««

Ran: (Shiro-kun did say that… and I thought that joining an Extraordinary Club would help me better understand my Ability, but…)

Ran: (…I don’t think that would work with the Blue Club.)

Ran: (Can I even be a part of them?)

»» ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♔◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ««

Kukuri: Hey! Think we can go together today?

Ran: Huh?

Kukuri: Lunch! Let’s go for lunch together! The bell just went off, didn't it? Didn’t you hear it?

Ran: Oh, it did? I wasn’t paying attention.

Ran: Erm, I have some Club stuff to handle, so why don’t you go ahead first?

Kukuri: Oh, okay. I’ll still wait for you though!

Ran: Oh, no, don’t. It might take a while, so…

Kukuri: I see. I’ll go eat first then.

»» ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♔◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ««

Ran: (I don’t actually have club matters to tend to, but… I feel like I’d ruin her good mood if she sticks around…)

Ran: (Maybe I should go for a walk and get some fresh air…)

»» ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♔◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ««

Next Scene: ⊳ Blue Club Clubroom (Munakata Reisi) ⊳ Hallway (Fushimi Saruhiko) ⊳ Rooftop (Awashima Seri) ⊳ Classroom (Isana Yashiro) ⊳ Courtyard (Akiyama Himori)

[transformers-bold-bright-brisk]

[INTRODUCTION]

WELCOME TO TRANSFORMERS: BOLD BRIGHT BRISK!

So, since I was super indecisive about which side-plot I wanted to focus on the most, I just made two extra. Yes, all three sideplot story stuff will be posted on this blog.

They all coincide with each other in some way, some events will happen before one sideplot’s events, and others will happen after one other sideplot’s events, so on and so forth.

[TF Media Referenced]

- Rescue Bots Academy

- Rescue Bots

- Transformers Prime

- Robots In Disguise

- Cyberverse

- Last Bot Standing

- More Than Meets The Eye

- Lost Light

- Literally any other miscellaneous information I find on TF Wiki that I insert to fill a couple plot-holes, but aren’t significant enough for me to completely take inspiration from that specific medium

[Overview]

- The war was over between Autobots and Decepticons, and afterwards it was a big celebration while the rebuilding of Cybertron took place. Years after the reconstruction of Cybertron, and it’s newly revised government, there are now many more individual situations that have arisen from the aftermath.

[Asks]

1) Can Accept ✅

- Asks about the lore and characters are very much appreciated!

- I’m also open to do some small sketch requests that pertain to the characters in my Fan Continuity, and characters that are in it but aren’t explicitly mentioned.

- I might answer a few questions with a doodle if I really feel like it, but rest assured I won’t be able to do all of them.

- Oh, don’t worry if your ask sounds a bit “spoilery” I’ll let you know.

2) Won’t Accept ❌

- Sorry, this blog isn’t for role playing with the characters.

- Also any asks that have links to anything without a description or just look sketchy in general, your ask will get deleted.

- Absolutely under no circumstances will I answer any creepy asks like NSFW or anything 18+, it’s just gross to me.

- No bigotry, racism, sexism, or any kind of LGBTQIA+phobia at all in my ask box.

[Tagging]

#sphny speaks (𖦹<𖦹)•*°⊹

- Any and all rambles, reviews, drabbles, or small updates to keep people informed of any “delays” or just small brain farts that happen throughout my day.

#sphny alternates universe (𖦹ㅁ𖦹)•*°⊹

- Whenever I just start to ramble and just start grabbing random info from other TF franchise continuities and alternate them into my universe without a second thought(or many thoughts, depending…)

#sphny arts (𖦹w𖦹)•*°⊹

- Any and all art I make and post, whether it’d be just a draft, concept art, or art dumps that I draw to support my stories.

#sphny reblogs (𖦹Q𖦹)•*°⊹

- On this blog especially, I would usually reblog something from my main, or just self-reblog from my early works, and maybe occasionally something neat I would to add to my blog later on so I don’t forget.

#sphny answers (𖦹0 𖦹)•*°⊹

- Along with asks, I’ll be tagging anything I’ve answered under this tag, just for consistency’s sake.

#sphny originates character (𖦹▿𖦹)•*°⊹

- This rarely ever happens, but on occasion if I were to make an original character I’d make sure to tag it under this so I can be able to track it down easier.