#y’all remember the fish blog

[telethrutime]

It’s a lil irritating when I see a post on TikTok and I KNOW it’s a stolen post from tumblr w a couple words changed but I haven’t seen it since 2016

[mads-nixon]

Epiphany Pt. 13: Forever Winter

Lewis Nixon x Reader

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Song Inspo: Forever Winter by Taylor Swift

A/N: this chapter was painful to write, and we're not even to the painful part yet...this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: With General Patton's forces breaking through the line in late December, Easy finally gets the supplies and gear it needs. Doc is able to take (y/n) to the aid station where she gets less-than-favorable news.

Warnings: mentions of injuries

DECEMBER 29TH, 1944: BOIS JACQUES, BELGIUM: 

On December 26th, Patton’s forces finally broke through the German lines, allowing crucial supplies to be delivered to the front. Easy received much-needed winter clothing–coats, scarves, winter caps–and essential supplies like ammunition, food, and medical provisions. Nix had to all but force (y/n) to go with Eugene to get her wrist proper medical attention. Doctors at the new aid station examined it and determined that she did indeed have a small break in her right wrist. They soon put a hard cast on it that went from her knuckles to her forearm and admitted her to the field hospital. 

After one night of being in the hospital, regardless of its warmth and cozy beds, her heart ached to be back with Easy. The men were her family, and being away from them in the lonely hospital, surrounded by agony and pain, made her want nothing more than to be with them again. 

(Y/n) quickly gathered her things and discreetly walked through the halls, pulling her coat securely over her cast to hide it from any hospital staff. She made her way to the front of the building and exited into the cold air. After being in the warmth of the hospital for a little while, the icy wind sent a shiver down her spine. 

“Back to reality,” she whispered to herself, attempting to pull a glove over her casted hand. Unable to stretch the glove over the cast, she groaned and put on her left one. As she was fishing through her pockets for a pair of her extra socks, a voice called out to her.

“Need a ride?” a man asked, sitting behind the wheel of a nearby jeep.

(Y/n) paused her movements and walked over to him, the freshly fallen snow crunching under her boots. “Yeah. Can you take me to the 506th?”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded, cranking up the jeep with a rumble. “Hop in.”

Quirking a smile, she got in quickly, checking behind her for doctors or nurses. “Thank you so much. I don’t think I could last another second in there.”

The man chuckled as he pressed on the gas, propelling them down the road. “Going AWOL?” 

“How’d you guess?” (y/n) replied, her eyebrow raised.

“Well, you do have a cast on your hand…”

“True, true,” she smirked, looking down at her hand. Suddenly, she remembered what she was doing when he had called out to her. She reached into her pocket and pulled out an extra pair of socks, sliding both onto her right hand in a makeshift glove.

(Y/n) sighed, wiggling her fingers. “God bless Skip Muck.”

He glanced over at her questioningly. “What’s that?”

“Oh,” she chuckled, sitting up in the seat. “It’s just something my friend says. ‘Feet, hands, neck, balls. Extra socks warms them all.’”

The laughter that bubbled from his lips was contagious, and (y/n) found herself wheezing as she joined in. “Your friend sure seems like a hoot…” the man grinned, dragging out his last word as if prompting for her name. 

“(Y/l/n). Corporal (y/n) (y/l/n),” she replied, a proud smile gracing her lips.

“Well, (y/l/n). Nice to meet ya. I’m PFC Jerry Barnes. It’s an honor to meet an Athena in person. I’ve only heard about y’all through the grapevine.”

“The honor’s mine. Otherwise, I’d be stuck in that dreadful hospital.”

They continued conversing for a little while until they came rumbling down to a stop amongst the trees of the Ardennes near Easy. 

“Here we are, ma’am,” Jerry remarked, nodding at her as he readjusted his helmet. “It was nice to meet you.”

(Y/n) got out of the jeep and pulled her M-1 back over her shoulder. “Likewise, Jerry. Thanks again!” she called, walking toward the line.

After a few minutes of hiking through the heavy snow, she found Captain Winters outside his foxhole talking to Lip, whose brow was creased as he spoke.

“I don’t know, sir. We haven’t seen him.”

Dick sighed, rubbing his cheek as he turned, hearing her approaching footsteps. “(Y/n), how’s the arm?” he asked, dismissing Lipton with a nod.

“Fine, sir,” she replied with a plastered smile, tugging at her right sleeve which had ridden up slightly.

His eyes caught the movement and he tilted his head, the corner of his lips downturned as his blue eyes stared at her in a disapproving glare. “(Y/n). What did the doctors say?”

“I’m alright,” she sighed, pulling off her sock glove and revealing the cast. “I want to go back with the guys, sir.”

Winters’ eyes widened at the bright white cast, and he shook his head. “(Y/n), go back to the aid station.”

“Sir, if I stay there the whole time I’ve got the cast, it’ll be a month, and a lot can happen in a month. I really would like to be here.”

His piercing eyes bore into hers for a few moments before a small smirk grew on his face.  “Go on,” he nodded, pointing to the cast. “But don’t let Nix come after me when he sees that.”

(Y/n) let out a breath and pulled the sock back on her hand. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“I don’t know where he is,” Dick started, burying his face into his scarf, “but I’ll let him know you’re back.” 

Grinning, she started to make her way to the boys, following the sound of their laughter that echoed through the woods. (Y/n) managed to make it to the outskirts of Easy’s foxholes when a familiar voice spoke behind her.

”Why aren’t you at the aid station?”

(Y/n) froze, her steps coming to a halt at the voice. She let out a small huff of air and turned around to see Lew. His face was void of emotion, but his glare was simmering with frustration.

“Because I didn’t need to be there,” she stated plainly, attempting to stay calm under his scrutinizing gaze. She’d never seen Lew angry before. Not like this.

He slowly took a few steps toward her, trying to conceal his emotions as he reached out for her wrist. “Show me your arm.”

Looking away, she ripped off the sock and held up her right arm. He took it gently, inspecting the cast. “I’m fine, Lew. Really.”

Nix scoffed under his breath, eyes unmoving from her wrist. “If you were fine, you wouldn’t ha-”

“What do you want me to do?” she cried, eyes narrowing as she ripped her arm from his grasp. “Stay there for a month until I get this off?”

Lew watched her for a moment, his teeth clenched. “(Y/n/n), I’m not saying that you have to stay there for a month, but-”

“But what? But what, Lewis? If anyone else goes AWOL, good for them, right? So why is it such a bad thing that I did, huh? Tell me that.”

His eyes hardened, hurt flashing through them momentarily. “This isn’t about anyone else. It’s about you. It’s about you being reckless. Do you even understand how dangerous this is?”

“Reckless? How am I being reckless?” she defended, her voice firm as she threw her hands up.

“You can’t just brush off a fractured wrist and go back to the line, (y/n),” Nix’s voice rose, betraying his anxiety. “You’re in a cast for crying out loud. You can’t hold a weapon correctly, you can’t carry heavy gear, and even simple tasks will be a struggle. You need to be realistic about this.”

“Lew, you just don’t get it!” (Y/n) exclaimed, her voice tinged with frustration.

His expression turned stern as he looked at her. “No, you don’t get it. You’re injured, and being out here, you’re putting yourself and everyone at risk.”

“I can’t just sit around in some aid station while the people I care about are out here,” she retorted, her tone defiant.

“Of course, you can’t,” he acknowledged. “But you can’t be out here with a broken wrist either. You’ll make it worse, and then you’ll really be useless.”

The word ‘useless’ hit her like a punch to the gut. Anger and hurt surged through her veins, and her face flushed red. “Useless? Is that what you think of me?”

“No, sweetheart, that’s not what I meant-,” he tried to backtrack after realizing the harsh words that had left his mouth.

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, Nixon!” she snapped, cutting him off. “If I’m that much of a burden, maybe I should just leave you be, then.”

Lew grabbed her arm, trying to make her understand. “That’s not what I think at all. You’re not a burden to anyone, especially not me. We need you here…I need you.”

(Y/n) shook her arm free, tears of frustration stinging her eyes. “You just said I’m useless. What am I supposed to believe?”

Nix sighed, his frustration mirroring hers. “I messed up and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. You’re not useless, but you’re hurt, and you need to be careful.”

“But you did say it, Lew. You said it,” she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “And I need to be careful? Careful so I don’t get in the way?”

“No, careful so you don’t hurt yourself more,” he said desperately, trying to choose his words more carefully. 

Her anger blazed into a wildfire as she sneered at him. “Right, because I’m so fragile.”

“That’s not what I meant. Please, (y/n), listen,” he pleaded.

She shook her head, the hurt and anger bubbling up her throat. “I can’t do this right now. I need some space.”

Without waiting for his response, she turned and stormed off, her heart pounding with a mix of emotions. She needed to be alone to process the argument and figure out how to get rid of the frustration and hurt that threatened to consume her. Lew watched her go, regret and worry gnawing at him, knowing he had let his worry for her safety come out in the wrong way.

(Y/n) furiously wiped away the stray tears that fell down her cheeks as she finally arrived at her foxhole. Skip, Luz, and Penkala stared up at her, worry evident in their gazes. 

“Please tell me you didn’t hear all that,” she whispered, her voice weak.

George nervously glanced at Skip, who was shaking his head. “Hear what?”

“Thank you,” she murmured as she settled down beside Skip, knowing they probably heard every word of the argument. “I missed you guys.”

“We missed you, too,” Skip smiled, throwing an arm over her shoulder. “Now what did the docs say?”

She held up her arm, pulling the sleeve back slowly. “Fractured.”

“Oh (y/n),” George winced, his face screwing up into a grimace. “How long do you have to wear it?”

“Supposedly four to six weeks,” the (y/h/c) replied, ”but we’ll see how long that lasts.”

“Did you go AWOL?” Skip asked from beside her. 

Alex rolled his eyes and smacked Muck’s hole-ridden helmet. “Of course she did, idiot. They wouldn’t let anyone back out here with a cast.”

“You’re dumber than I thought, Skip,” George laughed, taking a drag of his cigarette. 

JANUARY 3RD, 1945: BOIS JACQUES, BELGIUM

“I’m telling you, boys,” Bill Guarnere grumbled, his breath forming clouds in the frigid air. “We’re screwed.”

(Y/n) nodded her head at the statement, wrapping her coat even closer to her body as she sat in her foxhole beside Malarkey, Skip, Penkala, and Bill. The bitter chill of the January day seemed to penetrate every layer of clothing, and the memories that usually warmed her did nothing but chill her further. She hadn’t spoken to Lew since their argument, and she didn’t plan to. There was still so much to sort through in her mind.

Penkala scoffed. “If you ask me, I’m glad Lieutenant Dike’s never around.”

“Hey, you know what?” Malarkey chimed in, tucking his hands under his armpits. “We’re doing alright, even with Foxhole Norman.”

The group eyed him skeptically, and Bill was the first to voice the concern that hung in the air. “Yeah, Don, we’re doing alright. We’re doing alright now. In case you ain’t noticed, there’s a little town down the hill over there. And in that town are these guys called Germans. And these Germans got tanks,” he gritted, shivering as he sat on the edge of the hole. 

Don sighed, his gaze drifting to the frozen ground. “I know.”

“Yeah,” Guarnere continued. “And our side’s gonna wanna go into that town. You wanna take one guess who they’re gonna want to go knocking on the damn doors?”

“I know, Bill. It’s me you’re talking to here,” An irritated Don replied. 

He didn’t stop his tirade, much to Penkala’s amusement. He looked over at (y/n), expecting at least a smirk on her lips, but all he saw was a numb expression. The same one she’d had since she got back from the aid station. “Gosh, we’ve gotta do all this with a CO who’s got his head so far up his frickin’ ass that lump in his throat is his damn nose.”

Every word Bill said was true, and (y/n) found herself wishing they could have anyone else as their CO. When they’d arrived at their new position, Dike saw her without her helmet and about had a heart attack.

“You’re a woman,” he said, staring at her with wide eyes.

(Y/n) looked up at him with an eyebrow raised. “Yes, sir.”

“This is no place for a woman, doll.”

 “Were you not informed of the Athena program, sir?” she asked, her dislike for him growing by the second.

“Oh, um…yes. Carry on, ma’am.”

“It’s corporal, sir,” she corrected. “Corporal (y/l/n).”

His gaze shifted to something in the distance, and he began walking past her, shouldering his rifle with a yawn. “Ah, yes. Carry on, ma’am.”

The woman stared daggers at his back as he walked off, not to be seen for hours. No one knew where he went when he disappeared. He’d sometimes say he was needed at regiment HQ, but most of the time, he just wandered off.

“You know,” (y/n) began, looking over at Skip beside her. “He refuses to call me by my rank like everyone else. It’s always doll, sweetheart, or some other crap like that. I can’t stand it.”

“The dude’s a class-A idiot if you ask me. Good ole foxhole Norman,” Muck mused, the corner of his quivering lips quirking into a smirk. “He’s almost as bad as Sobel.”

“At least Sobel addressed me by my rank.”

“Hey 1st Sergeant,” Skip called over her shoulder where Lipton was approaching the group. 

Lip smiled, sitting next to Guarnere. “Hey, boys, and gal,” he replied. “Hey, Muck. What’s the word?”

“Oh, you know. Sitting around freezing our asses off,” he paused, smirking at (y/n). “Singing Dike’s praises.”

“Well, I’ll tell you. I wouldn’t wanna be a replacement officer coming in here, getting thrown in with a group of guys who’ve known each other for what? Two years?”

The group watched, soaking in his words. 

“That have been in combat together since Normandy. You’re supposed to just show up and lead them? How’s a guy do that? How could anyone really hope to gain the respect of the toughest, most professional, most dedicated sons-of-bitches in the entire ETO? Huh?”

‘Treat them with some respect,’ (y/n) thought to herself. Lip did make some sense, though, even if Dike himself was incompetent.

“So if you ask me, a guy’d have to march off to Berlin and come back with Hitler’s mustache or something.”

Bill was the first to laugh, his chuckle floating into the air, followed by the rest of the group. (Y/n) could picture it…Dike holding Hitler’s mustache, and it became the funniest thing she’d thought about in days, besides the Hinkle situation, of course. That was a classic that would never be topped. 

Carwood looked at her laughing face, a serious expression painting his own. “Anyway, listen. You guys don’t worry about Dike, alright?”

“Yeah,” they all murmured collectively, and (y/n) nodded, her laughter coming to an end.

“We all do our jobs, everything’ll be fine,” the sergeant finished, patting Bill’s leg before getting up and walking away.

“See ya, Sarge!” Muck called.

“Yeah, boy.”

As Lip walked away, they all pondered his words. Maybe they were holding Dike to an unreasonably high standard. Maybe they needed to lay off the man.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll ever respect Dike,” (y/n) began, staring up at the snow falling in the foxhole. “He’s going to get us killed.”

The group nodded in agreement, each becoming caught in their thoughts. In battle, there is no time to get lost in your mind: one’s sole objective is to survive. In a foxhole, however, there is little else you can do. The hours tick by as you stare ahead of you at the unchanging scenery, back and legs aching at your cramped position. In the silence, your inner monsters start to taunt you, poking and prodding at your mind like it's an animal in a cage, unable to defend itself from the constant attacks. 

Dick and Lew were bundled up under the cover of their makeshift foxhole, eating Joe Dominguez’s lukewarm, watery beans, each shivering as the Bastogne wind blew through them. The men were silent as they ate, their minds providing enough noise. They’d discussed their problem and lack of a solution with Lieutenant Dike, but Dick was itching to ask Lew a question that had been floating in his head for a few days. 

“Lew, what happened with (y/n)?” he asked quietly, watching his friend’s face fall.

Nix shook his head and put down his tin of beans. “I screwed up, Dick…big time. We got into an argument about her going AWOL with the cast. I was frustrated and worried, and I told her that she was useless.”

“Nix,” Dick groaned and sighed heavily, running a hand down his face. “How’d she react? Not good I’m guessing.”

“Yeah. She got so upset, Dick,” Lew whispered. “I could see how much it hurt her, and I tried to take it back, but it was too late.”

Winter’s looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Did you apologize?”

“Of course I did. But it didn’t change what I said. The damage had been done at that point.”

“Just give her time, Lew,” Dick murmured, laying a hand on the man’s shoulder. “She’s hurting right now. All you can do is let her know that you’re there for her, even if she doesn’t want to acknowledge it.”

“I’ve tried talking to her, but she just ignores me.”

“She’ll come around. I know it,” Winters nodded.

Staring at the XO with a smirk, Lew chuckled under his breath. “You know, for someone without any real experience in relationships, you give great advice, Dick.”

“What can I say? I’m a natural,” he grinned, shrugging his shoulders.

JANUARY 10th, 1945: BOIS JACQUES, BELGIUM: 

As the days ticked by, more and more of Easy Company were being sent off the line. Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye had both been hit in an artillery barrage a few days prior, and Buck was sent to the hospital with a bad case of ‘trench foot’…but everyone knew seeing Bill and Joe in their state had broken him.

Things between Lew and (y/n) were frosty as ever, even though he’d checked on her after hearing about Bill and Joe. She’d brushed him off with a simple, “I’m fine,” and that was the end of their conversation. His words had cut her deeply, and she just wasn’t ready to forgive him yet, even if he’d not meant it. In the week and a half since she’d returned from the aid station, she wished that she’d stayed there in the warmth of the hospital. 

(Y/n) cursed under her breath as the cast on her wrist felt like a vice, suffocating the limb. The unforgiving cold of the Ardennes and the wafting snow made the hard plaster even more uncomfortable. She couldn’t ignore the constant itch and the way it chafed against her skin.

With every movement, she was reminded of its presence. The worst part was the itch–a relentless, maddening itch that seemed to start deep within the cast. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t reach it. She tried to distract herself, focus on her duties, and push through the discomfort, but the itch persistently clawed at her sanity.

The constant snowfall only added to her torment. No matter how hard she tried to keep it dry, the wetness seeped into the cast, making it heavier and more awkward to move around. The moisture seemed to seep through her very bones, and the cast became a frigid, icy prison around her wrist.

0200 HOURS

The itch had invaded her dreams, tormenting her even in sleep. (Y/n) awoke with a start, her heart racing and wrist throbbing. The relentless itch had woken her from her restless slumber once again, and she couldn’t take it anymore.

In a desperate frenzy, she reached for anything within her reach and found a small stick lying nearby. With trembling hands, she carefully maneuvered the stick into her cast, trying to scratch the insufferable itch that seemed to have a life of its own. Each attempt brought a brief break, but it was never enough.

Feeling the stick hit her skin provided a fraction of relief, but it was short-lived. Her attempts to scratch the unreachable itch only seemed to intensify the desire to pry the cast off her arm. (Y/n) was willing to do anything to be free of this torment.

Frustration boiled within her as she tugged at the edges of the cast, desperate to find a way to escape its confining hold. Tears of pain and anger welled in her eyes as she pulled  at the cast with all her might.

“(Y/n)?” Skip asked sleepily, eyes fluttering open at her pained grunts and winces. “What’re you doing?”

“I can’t take it anymore, Skip,” she choked out. “This cast…it’s driving me insane.”

He seemed to fully wake up at the sight of her frantic eyes. “Hey, hey, hey. You’re alright,” he urged, pulling her left hand from the cast. “I know it’s tough, but you can’t take it off yourself. You could hurt yourself more.”

“But I need relief,” she pleases, tears leaking down her face. “I can’t stand it.

He knew this was long overdue with what happened with Captain Nixon. 

That day, as they conversed in the foxhole, the sound of a woman shouting floated through the air. All three of their heads snapped toward the sound, recognizing (y/n)’s voice. Silence filled the foxhole as they listened intently. Hearing his friend’s pained voice, George stood to his feet, prepared to find out what was going on, but he stopped at the appearance of another voice. 

“You’ll make it worse, and then you’ll really be useless.”

The boy’s mouths dropped at the statement, each of them coming to the realization that the voice belonged to Captain Nixon. A few moments passed as they looked at each other in disbelief. Although they couldn’t see the pair, they could only imagine what was going down in the distance.

“Useless? Is that what you think of me?”

“No, sweetheart, that’s not what I meant-,” 

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, Nixon! If I’m that much of a burden, maybe I should just leave you be, then.”

“I messed up and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. You’re not useless, but you’re hurt, and you need to be careful.”

“But you did say it, Lew. You said it. And I need to be careful? Careful so I don’t get in the way?”

“No, careful so you don’t hurt yourself more.” 

“Right, because I’m so fragile.”

“That’s not what I meant. Please, (y/n), listen.”

“I can’t do this right now. I need some space.”

A few moments later, George saw her appear in the distance, and he ducked back down into the foxhole. His eyes flicked between Skip and Alex who shared the same pain in their chest at the sight of (y/n) wiping tears from her face with her gloved hand.

“We didn’t hear anything,” Skip whispered, pointing his sock-covered hand at his friends. “Nothing.

As Skip looked down at the woman before him, his mind drifted back to his little sister, Ruth, and the many times he’d held her close as she cried. He loved her to pieces, and (y/n) reminded him of her more than he’d like to admit. Remembering what had worked with Ruth, he carefully wiped away her tears and pulled her to his side, allowing her to bury her face into his chest as he stroked her hair soothingly.

“I know, (y/n),” he murmured. “We’ll get you some help, I promise. But for now, you need to keep the cast on. Trust me.”

Reluctantly, she nodded against his chest, allowing his comforting presence to bring a sliver of calm to her anxiety-ridden mind. 

“Have I ever told you about my little sister, Ruth?” he whispered, looking at the stars above them. 

She shook her head against his chest. “No.”

“Ruth…she’s the light of my life. I love Faye more than I can even explain, but Ruth, she’s my baby sister and she means everything to me.”

(Y/n) listened to the steady thrum of his heart as he continued to talk, his chest rumbling with each word. 

“She’s only three years younger than me, so when we were kids, we basically did everything together. As we got older and I got different part-time jobs, I loved to take her out and spoil her. Our dad left us to travel the country and perform his music, so she didn’t have any man in her life besides me. I always made sure she knew how she was supposed to be treated.”

Her heart swelled, hearing the pure adoration in his voice as he spoke about his beloved sister. The itch seemed to fade slightly, her mind getting caught up in Skip’s story.

“Every dance we went to as teenagers, I would buy her a new dress, and she’d always iron my clothes just the way I liked them,” he paused, peering down at (y/n) with a smirk. “It may be hard to believe looking at me now, but I am usually very put-together.”

“You’re right,” (y/n) chuckled softly, her tears drying on her cheeks. “I can’t picture it.”

Rolling his eyes, Skip smiled at the ground. “I miss her so much. I can’t wait to give her a big hug after all this. I’m half-expecting Faye to ask her to be her maid of honor for the wedding.”

(Y/n) sat up, her eyes widening. “You proposed?”

“Not officially,” he shook his head. “But she knows I plan to the second I step foot in Tonawanda.”

“I better be invited,” she smirked, slouching against his side again, leaning her head on his shoulder. 

Skip squeezed her shoulder with a scoff. “I couldn’t imagine not inviting you, (y/n/n). You’re like my second little sister, even if you’re older than me.”

“And you’re all like brothers to me,” she yawned, eyes fluttering shut. “Love you,” she slurred, sleep finally welcoming her at last as she was held in the brotherly embrace of Skip Muck.

“I love you, too, squirt.”

Skip felt her breathing even out, and he sighed to himself. He’d be lying if her behavior didn’t worry him, but all he could do at the moment was keep her close and wait until morning to sort everything out. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and leaned back against the hard, frozen ground he’d used as a pillow for the past three weeks. For some reason, the cold didn’t seem to bother him as much as he drifted off to sleep. Ruth’s sweet smile and laugh replayed in his mind, and a lonesome tear trickled from his eye, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

A/N: all the things that Skip said about him and his sister are TRUE! their dad left them when they were young to be a traveling country musician, and Skip later got different part-time jobs to help his family any way he could. His favorite thing to do was spoil his little sister. my research didn't find the actual age difference between them, so I made the three-years thing up. Everything else is accurate, down to her ironing his pants just the way he liked. Surprisingly, his parents were German, so he actually spoke fluent German, as well, but kept that quiet during the war. I wish we got to learn more about Skip Muck on the show, so I decided to give a little snapshot of his life, regardless of how hard it was to write it knowing what happened to him. He deserves to be celebrated. He was a hero. All of them were.

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[chaosresturantjandn4eva]

Happy #MentalHealth Monday! ☺️

I stopped by the koi pond on my way to visit with Yeti Dave. The koi fish asked if I had any advice that I’d like to give, that they could pass on to anyone who might be feeling a bit down today. I figured I’d share the advice I shared with them, with all of you.

Are you feeling overwhelmed this morning? Are you consumed with emotions that make you uncomfortable? Are you struggling to find happiness in the hard times? Do you feel alone or unheard? Do you need a friend to talk to?

If you’ve answered yes to any of these, don’t feel ashamed or embarrassed. I think it’s safe to say we’ve all had moments where we’ve felt this way. Times are hard for a lot of people right now. We live in a society that holds such high expectations from people but, in turn, doesn’t provide anyone with the resources needed in order to meet those expectations. Social media can be so toxic for many. It is so easy to look at the lives of others, then back at your own, and compare your life to theirs. We must remember that everyone faces different challenges in their own lives.. just because we don’t see them, doesn’t mean they aren’t present. If you find yourself comparing your life to someone else’s, and it makes you unhappy, maybe take a break. Remove from your life whatever it is that is causing you unhappiness. Take a social media break, stop communicating with people who don’t bring joy to your life, let go of that relationship that you’re fighting alone for, just do whatever you need to do for yourself, to ground yourself, whatever you need to, to insure your own peace and happiness, because guess what? Tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone, you only get one life to live. I say, don’t waste it on anything that doesn’t give your life meaning.

Go outside today & breathe in the fresh air, drink a warm delicious beverage, have that little treat you’ve been avoiding because you don’t want to gain weight, have lunch with a friend, take your kiddos to the park or play a game of hide & seek. Enjoy the small things because you never know if you’ll get the same chance to do so tomorrow.

AND! If you need someone to talk to? My messages are always open. Please don’t hesitate to reach out. I understand we all came here as a joke. Our CQ created this blog to be funny. However, I feel we have all become one big community at this point.. and I don’t take that lightly. If anyone is struggling, with anything at all, I’ll be here to listen. ❤️

I hope y’all have a blessed day! 🫶🏻

HAPPY MENTAL HEALTH MONDAY

[adelaidedrubman]

NOW THAT’S WHAT I CALL MUSIC MONDAY 

tagged by absolutely no one and requested by fewer still, but in the spirit of kicking off the summer of hook, line, and sinker i am also taking the liberty of starting wip music monday whether anyone likes it or not. afflicting @v0idbuggy @poetikat @henbased @florbelles @unholymilf @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @strangefable @derelictheretic @corvosattano @shallow-gravy @nuclearstorms @cassietrn @confidentandgood @afarcryfrommymain @vampireninjabunnies-blog @nightbloodbix @voidika @firstaidspray @megraen @roofgeese @trench-rot @strafethesesinners @blissfulalchemist @inafieldofdaisies @clicheantagonist, please feel free to drop a wip and a tune that vibes with it!

naturally i am sharing another hl&s playlist banger. pov you’re jestiny and this is what you desperately wish your ex-girlfriends’ internal monologue to be as they watch your current partner fail to bait a hook, but unfortunately probably only the last part applies:

i heard you had to drive him home after two umbrella drinks / i heard he’s got a prius ’cause he’s into being green / my buddy said he saw y’all eating that sushi stuff / baby that don’t sound like you, that don’t sound like love / sounds like it sucks he can’t even bait a hook / he can’t even skin a buck / he don’t know who jack daniels is / ain’t ever drove a truck / knows how to throw out a line / but not the kind in a field and stream book / no darling i ain’t even worried you’ll come running back / he can’t even bait a hook ... [outro] nah you’re the one that’s gonna be sorry when you’re headin’ to get tofu and he has a flat tire in his foreign car and don’t know how to change it and you’ll get your new gucci shoes wet and you’re mad and irritated, i’ve seen you irritated, i’m telling you, better him than me actually

epic blunder, this is how they actually see you and your new man. wip excerpt from hl&s c.3, tentatively titled “throw out a line” (warnings for jessie typical emotional regulation and references to stalking behavior, played for laughs but called for what it is in text):

“Ms. Woodhouse,” John held out a hand towards the brunette that was met with nothing but a scowl in return. 

He made an apologetic ‘ah’ noise and wiped the hand on his shirt, but Jessie knew it was not the fish guts Sherri was repulsed by.  “My apologies.” He bowed. “I haven’t yet had the privilege of patronizing your little store.” Jessie smiled. Patronizing was right. And Sherri deserved it. “It’s so difficult when I have my own boat ramp right in the backyard to remember to get out there to support the small business owners in the community.”  “Support?” Skylar cut in, scowling even harder than Sherri did. “When have you ever supported any business around here? You call trying to shut everyone down and take their property from ’em support?”  Huh. That’s weird  — Skylar seemed to have history with this guy. And it was bad enough he was a lawyer at all, did she fuck up and start pretending to date a fucking foreclosure attorney or something?  John waved the accusation off. “Please, I hate discussing business matters during my recreation time.” He reached into his back pocket to take out his wallet, pulling another hundred dollar bill from it. “I would love to support Can of Worms now.”  John turned to Sherri, gauchely waving the bill in front of her. “I’m afraid my lovely date and I have fished through all of our bait. But it seems you have plenty left. He nodded towards the unopened can at Sherri’s feet. “I’d like to purchase it.”  Sherri met him with a dead-eyed stare. “Store’s closed.”  John turned, looking across the water at the Can of Worms storefront. “Your hours say open until 9.”  “Well, I’m not on the clock.”  “Oh, don’t be unreasonable. I’m paying well above market rate for something I could just waste time going over and buying from you, for much cheaper, in the store.”  “No, you couldn’t,” Skylar said. “Store’s closed.”  He pointed behind him. “I see it open.”  “Store’s always closed to you.” Jestiny gave up on pretending not to notice the conversation, setting aside her beer to slam her hands down on the side of the boat. “Well, sell it to fuckin’ me, then!”  “God, Jessie,” Sherri groaned, leaning down to hold her head in her hands. “Can’t you just fucking leave us alone? Following us, harassing us while we’re trying to fish? We broke up with you. We don’t want you around.”  “Shit’s sad,” Skylar agreed. “Just stop. Don’t make us get a fuckin’ restraining order or something.”  Jestiny kicked the side of the boat, hard. “They’re called Orders of Protection, in fucking Montana!”  “You learn that from your slimebag lawyer boyfriend?” Skylar asked. Jessie frowned. That was hitting below the belt, she thought. “And did he learn it from law school, or ’cause half the fucking County wants to take one out on his creepy ass?” Sherri brought a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh at Skylar’s joke. “They really are perfect for each other, huh?” she giggled against Skylar’s shoulder, setting her chin atop it and looking up at her adoringly.  Jessie felt flames crawl up in her belly. Of all the infuriating insults.  “Yeah, we fucking are! I finally have someone who can keep up with me behind the rod and on an intellectual fuckin’ level!” she forced herself to flash an adoring smile of her own at the man she shouted over. “And he’s got an actual sense of humor! Just look at his outfit.”  John turned to shoot Jessie a glare.  “Yeah,” Skylar laughed, turning to nudge the flyaway hairs clinging to Sherri’s dewy brown skin away with the sun speckled tip of her nose so that she could finally whisper her teasing directly into the brunette’s ear. “Looks like you and me were the only ones that didn’t think to come dressed for the circus.” 

“I fucking heard that!” 

[basilone]

I was tagged by @onehelluvamarine, ty! 💚

A band you don’t like that many others do:

Coldplay. I am absolutely mesmerized by how popular they are, because every single song of theirs I’ve ever heard gets on my last nerve.

A childhood memory that you remember vividly:

I used to do ballet and got to perform in a huge theatre once. I remember hanging out backstage, watching the older dancers, getting to see what the lighting crew was doing… It was a brilliant time, though the hassle to get hair and make-up done had a lot of people yelling and losing the plot. (I learned how to do stage make-up myself when I was a lil older, partially because that’s how you roll in drama classes but also because of that experience hahaha!)

Least favorite animal and why:

Listen. Listen to me. We do not need lightbulb fish. We do not need them. We do not require their presence in our waters.

Hot fandom take:

Do you know how many hot takes can fit in me? It’s a lot. I’m going to go with two hot takes because it’s my party and y’all have never ever seen me post one to this blog before.

Numero uno: readerfic is not OC fic, OC fic is not readerfic. If you name your character, it’s an OC. Even if you write them in first or second person POV. If you write Y/N, it’s readerfic no matter how much backstory you try to chuck at it. Learn to tag it properly. A fic cannot have both the canon character/OC and canon character/reader tags. Please do my last remaining pieces of sanity a favor and don’t make me read Y/N with my own two eyeballs just because you mistagged your fic.

Numero two: smut belongs under the cut. I don’t make the rules. If you start your fic with smut of any kind, put it under a readmore. Especially do this if that smut contains highly specific kinks. Aside from the fact that there are minors on this website who’ve got no business being subjected to that, people should be given the choice whether they want to see that level of smut on their daily newspaper dashboard scrollthrough first thing in the morning.

Do you wear any jewelry, if so, what’s your favorite piece:

I do, though not all the time. One of my fave pieces is a small ring with an eight-pointed star that I wear on my pinky finger.

A movie others liked but you didn’t:

Titanic. I know it’s got many many many fans, but I was cheering that iceberg on.

Three things you love about yourself:

My creativity, my ability to switch gears and learn on the fly, and my hair that does whatever I want it to do.

A place you hope to visit in the future and why:

Dude, have you seen the state of the world lately? I think I’m just gonna hope to visit my bed later on today, much safer.

An actor that gets on your nerves and why:

I have Tom Cruise blacklisted on this hellsite for good reason. The good reason being that I think he’s batshit and that people should stop entertaining his presence in anything. I’m not drinking that cult juice, thanks.

Things you’re excited for in the nearby future?

My birthday’s coming up on Feb 9!

Least favorite ship in a fandom you’re in:

At the risk of getting utterly disowned by a good number of folks that follow me: Webgott. I have gone for an outing or two in this ship, if memory serves me correctly, and I think I understand why people like it. I love banter in a ship as much as the next person, and the push-pull of opposites can be fun. But I also think Lieb deserves a lot more than someone who’s fundamentally at odds with his life and his POV. I think that the discussion they have in that final ep is indicative of something so major that it is a dealbreaker in that ship. (Plus, Web is just… not my fave character. Putting this mildly.)

What’s the most toxic fandom you’ve been in?

Vikings. Hands down, no contest. Absolute toxic cesspool of lies, backstabbing, and badmouthing. There are a few very good reasons why I’m no longer on speaking terms with people I used to call friends (at least one of whom was also in our lovely little war fandom back in the day) and why I’ve all but given up on doing any new gifsets or writing in that fandom for the foreseeable future.

List three things you find beautiful about life:

I’m gonna all caps this like a particularly obnoxious internet citizen because !! important !!

HAVE YOU SEEN OUR UNIVERSE DO YOU HAVE TIME TO TALK ABOUT THE STARS

MUSIC

THAT MOMENT WHEN YOU’RE LAUGHING WITH PEOPLE YOU LOVE AND YOU REALIZE THERE’S NOWHERE IN THE WORLD YOU’D RATHER BE THAN IN THAT EXACT MOMENT

Any dreams for the future?

I just want to live a life that’s good. I don’t really do future plans or dreams, it’s all vibes. I will know the move I need to make in the moment it needs making. Everything else is confetti.

How are you really feeling today?

Tired! (She says while about to embark on a screencap-to-gif journey. You might note the tiredness by the fact that I have completely lost my filter somewhere down the line of answering these questions, lol.)

Tags:

lmao I feel like half this fandom got tagged already and I’m very shit at remembering usernames and who likes tagging games sooooo. uhm. ain’t tagging anybody today.

[goneahead]

oh look, its me, the disorganized noodle replying very very very late🤪

thanks for the tag @thefunkyperson ❤️

Rules: Tag 10 or more people you want to get to know better

Relationship status: currently off the market

Favorite color: steel blue

Song stuck in my head: Currently? 12 Gates by Rev. Gary Davis. last week it was Cumberland Gap by the 2nd Carolina String Band. my brain, let me show it to you😆

Favorite food: pretty much anything with jalepenos in it. And cookies. Although cake and pasta are good too!!!😋

Last song listened to: Fishing Blues by Henry Thomas (and one of the few surviving recordings of American quills. Quills had to be made by hand so they fell out of fashion when cheap harmonicas began to be mass-produced in the 1930s)

Dream trip: I’m a nomad, so pretty much anywhere the wheels stop is my happy place. But! My partner and I will be workamping for the summer in Montana. This will be the sixth state we’ve workamped in—and we’ll get to see Big Sky Country! And hopefully THIS time I won’t have a run in with a bear like I did the LAST time I was in bear country😂😂😂

Last thing I googled: recipe for 7 layer dip. Cuz I ouldnt remember which blog I got the recipe from. Turns out it was spent with pennies

tagging 10 huh? y’all know I can’t count but here goes: @distilled-prose @radiowrites @stephmcx @ends-2-beginnings @cowandcalf @herveiwfromthefloor @wordrummager @slowfalter @gloomyfilm @itsmrvlxh50 @itwoodbeprefect @actingcamplibrarian @cherokeeghostwriter hopefully that’s ten? **handwaves**

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

oh goodie, more teasers for Clementine Book Two

because if anyone is keeping one eye open at all times for Clementine Book Two news, it’s me... and probably only me, let’s be honest. 

We have a look at four new pages, except they’re not full pages, they’re more like chunks of pages here to show us something that makes us gasp and go, “oh no, Clementine! That’s not good!” 

Let’s talk about ‘em. It’ll be quick, there isn’t too much to talk about, but it’s worth updating y’all on. 

Wow... much exciting. I’m sure those hands are meant to be Clementine and Ricca’s, and they’re touching... anyone who has been a follower of my blog for a long time now and knows anything about TWDG knows that it’s all about the *hands*....that’s how you can tell they’re in love. 

Except they’re not really holding hands yet. I guess they’re not quite ready for love yet. I see Tillie’s really taking the slow burn route then. 

Yeah, the big “oh no” is that Clementine has a fever, and as we’ll see in the next page, it might have something to do with her leg. Remember how in Book One Rabby was lookin’ at her leg all, “Clementine, you have to wash your leg to avoid infection, infection bad, don’t get that.” 

We didn’t see Clementine do much of that in Book One... which if she was doing it, that’s something you’d think would be shown to us, no? Kind of important? 

Alright well, the cat’s still alive at least. 

Also I’m assuming this is after they got away from the weirdos who grabbed Olivia in the previous teaser pages we got. Clementine’s got a fever and they’re covered in mud, shit, and blood...not great things to have on an infected leg, y’all. 

Also, “We’ll eat fish.” .....insert AJ’s “I like fish!” line here.

Oh wait, you can’t, because AJ’s not here. Because he’s back at Ericson. Because Clementine left. I bet her leg wouldn’t be covered in mud if she had just stayed... just sayin’. 

I really like that establishing shot with the moon and the clouds... I said this previously, but I think Tillie’s found a better footing with the art in this one. She’s always been great with shots like that, even in Book One, but also the characters look a little better, too. They’re still not my favorite design and I don’t think Clementine looks like Clementine, but I see improvement. 

Anyway, what I take from this is they’re still traveling and Clementine’s not doing great. 

Yeah, that’s all I really have to say. I said there wasn’t too much to talk about as the big takeaway from this teaser is that Clementine’s feverish and her leg might be infected, which isn’t great. I’m sure she’ll put through, though... unless Tillie’s pulling a power move and killing her off in the second book only to turn the third book into....I dunno, Clementine’s adventures as a walker? She dies and it’s revealed to be one big dream and she never actually left Ericson? This Clementine turned out to be a fake and the real Clementine shows up to take her out? 

I guess we’ll have to wait to find out. 

Do y’all have thoughts? Are you excited for Clementine Book Two? I doubt you are since most aren’t, but you never know. 

Personally, I’m excited to be disappointed, but hopeful to be proven wrong. Either way, I win. 

[melodyofthevoid]

I posted 7,486 times in 2022

1,035 posts created (14%)

6,451 posts reblogged (86%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@elytrians

@lindendragon

@dana-chan-the-control-brain

@ai-dont-care

@thel3tterm

I tagged 3,318 of my posts in 2022

#melody rambles - 1,069 posts

#ocean idiots - 505 posts

#invader zim - 463 posts

#friend art - 294 posts

#zib - 161 posts

#my writing - 100 posts

#ask meme - 67 posts

#zadr - 66 posts

#yeah - 66 posts

#ref - 55 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#and sometimes the larger a project gets the more unrealistic the expectations on those working on it to the point where no one's having fun

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Ocean Idiots Masterpost

Hello hello lore enthusiasts and newcomers alike! I finally am getting around to organizing all of this so here we go! 

Lore Slideshow

Art

The-Trashiest-Pada

Merfolk Lore

The Sailor Who Fought Back

If She Fits She Sits

Teef

The Deep Blue 

Delta’s Crew

Don’t Starve Ocean Idiots

Family Reunion

Bebe Delta

more bebe

Ab Bab

Ascension and Aftermath

Freya and Argo

April fools Bitches

Squish

Heather is A Bitch™

Entranced

On Deck

Shandzii

Various doodles

Larus

Mariza and Delta

Samira Ref

Mariza Ref

Larus Ref

See the full post

242 notes - Posted April 29, 2022

#4

HOLY GOD! Ok, this project launched back in... October of 2020 and it’s here. Huge and never ending thanks go out to everyone involved in this project, I’ll credit all those I can. Please know that you all mean the world to me and the fact you did this... I was close to tears man, genuinely. This world, and I know I’ve said it a million times, is my baby, and that you all did this... fuck. It just makes me unimaginably happy. Thank you. 

Please give your appreciation and love to the wonderful artists who made this possible, and support them where you can. They all did an amazing job. 

@shandzii

@thefurriestofchows

@the-trashiest-panda

@buttonpastel

@snugglecat453

@paujama

@rainbott

@emositecc 

@malibubandit

@rollermatsu

For those not on Tumblr but are in the video: Kat, Silverkapa, Pinkie, Squishy squid, thank you.

394 notes - Posted January 13, 2022

#3

After much anticipation, it is here. The official slideshow of Ocean Idiots Lore! Thanks go to @shandzii and @the-trashiest-pada for all the art! Again, if y’all have any questions feel free to ask! I just may take a minute to get to it. Also you know. Spoiler stuff. 

459 notes - Posted April 27, 2022

#2

509 notes - Posted July 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

6! Preferably for Mariza and Delta but you can do whoever you want

"I missed you... a lot"

It'd taken a good deal of time for Mariza and Delta's... relationship to even out after Mariza's ascension.

It'd taken the half desperate pleadings of someone far too exhausted to keep up a one sided fight for it to stop, a fire no longer fueled by oxygen left to smolder. Then they were left with what remained, a goddess who didn't know who she was, and a pirate who remembered everything but didn't know where to start.

So they started anyway, because when had they ever planned for anything?

The bottom of the ocean, contrary to the superstitions of sailors who'd never so much as swam a reef, was far more lively than an eternal quiet. Just because the cool depths only contained the echoes of humans didn't mean they were devoid of life, only human life. Though for some that didn't make a difference. It made the perfect spot for a mer and the embodiment of the ocean to sit and watch the world go by, the occasional curious fish swimming around Mariza's torso and extra limbs, weaving in and out as though the goddess were nothing but coral.

"Guess they like 'ya huh?"

Delta laughed as the guppy darted away from Mariza's claws, the goddess unable to contain a small chuckle of her own.

"Well, they know better than to be near a shark. I think they want me to protect them from you."

"Right, because I'm the more deadly of the two of us, you're ridiculous."

"I dunno," Mariza smiled impishly, "Those teeth of yours are pretty sharp."

"Mari. I've seen you bite boats in half. Come on."

Delta whacked Mariza with her fin, enough to push her forward, but no further than that. Of course, retaliation was swift, and those same tendrils that were a fish's playground wrapped around Delta's tail and hoisted her vertical, then in a loop. The cycle continued until both were cackling messes, throwing small handfuls of sand in each others' direction as they wheezed.

"Ha- haha- Can't believe you're this easily winded. Aren't you supposed to be a god?"

"Yeah well- I'm still- still getting used to it. It's not like I'm laughing all that much around Samira."

Ah, that pleasant company. Surely a more jovial presence you couldn't find.

"No kidding. I can't say that I've laughed this hard in a while either. I missed this."

Cold regret seeped into the waters around them. For what it was worth, Mariza tried to give a sarcastic half smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Did you now?"

Too late to pretend she didn't mean it now.

"I did. I missed you... a lot. When you slipped under the water... Thought I'd never see you again. But hey, lucky me, right?"

"Lucky that I didn't end up sinking you when you came up and hugged me out of the blue."

"Hey! How was I supposed to know you had all the memory of a brain-dead sunfish left?"

"Brain dead- HEY!"

The bickering continued, but Delta couldn't help the smile that clung to her face each time Mariza let out that laugh of hers, or looked away for a brief moment.

She really was lucky, huh?

It stung she still missed her, sometimes.

1,082 notes - Posted January 20, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[thedaytheworldburned]

‘Sugar Rush Ride Japanese Ver.’ MV First Reactions

I knew I had to check it out when I got a message from my brother saying ‘Yeonjun may be dead again.’ To which, as you could expect, I said ‘well, what do you think - the statistical likelihood is that he’s dead.’

Anyway, let’s have a look! This one reminds me yet again why I loved Sugar Rush Ride as a comeback - it brought us back to the thick of not only TXT’s MV storytelling skills, but also to their Magic Island related storyline.

Full analysis below the line.

Basically, it’s reminding me of Frost.

Yo it’s the hunnit bands from LOSER=LOVER.

Makes me concerned about where he got his money from - they only ever really talk about the money, not so much the likely questionable means of obtaining it. 

I love the fish and butterflies. First, as we’ve (I imagine) already discussed on this blog - flying fish are a relatively global now (but seem to have originated in Japan and Asia) symbol of magic and the beautiful ways the supernatural can manifest in the real world. They are magical, and usually harmless. However, some can become dangerous (like the flying shark in that one Christmas episode of Dr Who). 

The butterflies are of course also symbols of beauty and nature, and can be magical too (I mean, these ones are glowing, so they definitely are). However, they are also a representation of the butterfly effect, which is usually used for more serious storylines. They can also create a subtle sense of fear - such as when they all clumped into a ball and then flew away. It makes our subconscious think - why are they behaving like that, and what did they fly away from that we can’t see?

And living up to the name of the butterfly effect, the tiny presence of this butterfly has had a large impact, since Yeonjun did a no-no and got distracted. I find it interesting that we don’t see what made him swerve - although my personal belief is that it was the CAT - because I desperately want the cat to make a return. 

Anyway, Yeonjun is either dead, or severely injured, yet again. Good on him.

And the butterfly couldn’t care less. I think this is a really fascinating image of the butterfly flying through the glass - it caused the accident, and the glass around it is dangerous, but it is seemingly immune to all harm or care.

Flying towards the object of its murder!

But putting that aside, I’m getting the idea that Yeonjun isn’t a very good driver. 

At which point I’ll say that I LOVE the transitions that introduce the members at the start of this MV - here’s the first one. Yeonjun was floating, and here Beomgyu is on his back. The black and white shirt mirrors the high contrast of the previous scene, and the shadows behind his head are like the glass that was around Yeonjun.

Y’all remember LOSER=LOVER Beomgyu who fell off his bike? Well it looks like Gyu’s been stuck in broken-bike purgatory for almost two years - the poor guy. Either that, or he’s just as bad at riding bikes as Yeonjun is at driving.

Love the transition of Gyu looking up to Taehyun being introduced - like an angel, surrounded by light - and also how his introduction is intercut with Gyu’s.

At this point I remind everyone that BigHit use bathtubs as a symbol of depression and suicide, usually. 

This is what I mean about Gyu being bad at riding bikes. Sure, the bike may be broken and he may be hurt, but this was a very odd moment to me. 

Yas.

Well that ain’t going to make it any better.

Not so sure about the meaning of this one - mostly because it’s pretty ambiguous. It could be the connection between Taehyun and Gyu, it could be just them using their style of shadow and silhouette storytelling, or it could be trying to represent that the reason for Taehyun being so depressed is violence??? Which is odd, because I neither think that Gyuy was the source of the violence, nor that this is likely, since Gyu is the one who is often shown as being the victim of violence. 

They’re also not in close physical proximity to each other - because Taehyun doesn’t react when Gyu smashes the glass - so perhaps it’s just the connection between the five of them showing?

Broken glass count is 2 for this MV. 

K, water - Run by BTS, Run Away, etc.

But what I love about it is this epic transition to Kai. 

And then to Soobin. So here we get a nice variety of people from different eras - Soobin is on the train (Run Away, Magic Island), Beomgyu is on the ground (LOSER=LOVER), Yeonjun is driving (LOVESONG, LOSER=LOVER), Taehyun is in the bath (Run by BTS, LOVESONG, so on), and Kai is under a bridge or something somewhere (Good Boy Gone Bad).

Okay, not that many eras. But they need to stay on theme.

Holy moly - not another way to get to Magic Island!

And the butterfly collects them all, which is nice I guess but which could be not-so-nice.

Kai is a butterfly daddy now?

Under the water - which is both a path to Magic Island and a symbol of suicide in the world of Hitman Bang.

By the way, we now have everyone with a way to get to Magic Island - Soobin on the train, Taehyun and Kai with water, Yeonjun with his car, and Beomgyu with whatever bizarre portal he’s opened. 

And we see that later when they all come together on Magic Island.

Speaking of - u know it’s going to be a good comeback when Magic Island’s involved.

Rip Gfriend.

I mean, that’s pretty ‘Magic Island’ to me.

Bruv what a stellar set. We’ve got the bathtub I assume - top left. Then below it Kai’s little area. Gyu’s street above, and Soobin’s train. Where’s the car? Idk and it don’t matter because Yeonjun is dead. 

I find it interesting that they chose to write ‘promise’ on the train - to emphasise the idea of a broken promise? Sure, but why that idea over all of the other ideas that we see in the storyline?

There’s also a sign for Ttukseom Park station - which we know is one of the stations closest to Magic Island. 

Gosh I love this set. If I was in TXT I’d feel so cool dancing on this set. It’s subtle but has a lot of story telements.

Gee, do u think he’s on his way to Magic Island?

I also love that, sure, flying fish are kind of a trope now. But underwater butterflies - I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that before! It adds to the idea that things have been literally turned upside down - air things are in the water and water things are in the air - and it’s another magical idea, but also unique. 

:o

The white sign in the back says ‘come a little closer.’ Because that’s not creepy at all.

MAGIC ISLAND~

I love this shot. First we’ve got Yeonjun who managed to live somehow. Then we see that they’ve all made their way to Magic Island. But it’s an interesting choice to show this through the leaves, where the boys are a bit hidden. It creates a subtle feeling of dread - either something is watching them, they are hiding something, the forest will swallow them, or any combination of the above. 

Nap of a star, anyone?

I find it interesting, though, that this time it is Soobin who gives Yeonjun his hand, not Kai.

Well ain’t that very pretty and dangerous?

Bruv it’s alive!

Well, of course it is!

Idk what these are supposed to be - eggs? But then, why do they have weird bits coming out of the side? Anyway...

Not so sure what this is supposed to be - dirt dancing? Either way, it’s weird.

Ew Kai what is that? And why would you  touch it?

People be sleeping. That hasn’t been good on Magic Island historically.

2 options; the birds that try to kill Taehyun, or the birds that were in the cage Gyu saw. Or both.

Ahh I forgot to mention that I think these shorts are very weird.

Well that don’t look good. I also like how Kai is fragmented - which he seems to legitimately be in the storyline.

That car looks super fake and super pristine considering Yeonjun smashed the glass and ran into some trees.

Great shot, not so sure what it means other than the connections between the real world and Magic Island?

So either Yeonjun had a live fish tied up the whole time, or regular objects are coming to life. Probably the second.

Also where did all the cash in the car go?

No thank you I do not want to see inside Yeonjun’s ear and I don’t want to know how it looks like the tunnel Gyu was in in Frost.

Oh dear, not again. 

Good job, Yeonjun.

Run Away, anyone?

All the feathers and blue skies but no birds.

Conclusions

I mean it was nice, but, as I would expect from a Japanese MV, it’s more of a whole bunch of images associated with the storyline and consolidating the storyline rather than adding massive amounts to it. I mean, I may be wrong, but I doubt it. 

But I did like it - it was pretty and did some new and unique things with Magic Island. And somehow we have yet again managed to end up at the cliff from The Most Beautiful Moment In Life... wow, Hitman Bang is a bit obsessed.

[pansexualjesus]

Y’all remember honesty hours???? Popular blogs would be posting like 1000 ask answers about their blorbos and small blogs would just be fishing for people to message them? That was such a cute part of ye olden tumblr culture

[darkpuck]

I posted 14,094 times in 2022

That's 8,255 more posts than 2021!

77 posts created (1%)

14,017 posts reblogged (99%)

(editing this post to add in a readmore lmao enjoy if you want)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@calamitouscynic

@sw087

@tigerkat24

@ryuutchi

@irishais

I tagged 12,399 of my posts in 2022

Only 12% of my posts had no tags

#all aboard the queue-queue train - 11,010 posts

#dracula daily - 1,282 posts

#dracula - 474 posts

#elementary my dear queue - 368 posts

#star wars - 203 posts

#jonathan harker - 174 posts

#sw - 127 posts

#video - 106 posts

#pokemon - 103 posts

#captain ameriqueue - 100 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#if you’re picturing the ladies running after dracula don’t be fooled. it’s the fishermen throwing fish at this barghest not the fisherwives

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

"it's the same picture"

llustration by Greg Hildebrandt this copy of dracula can be found here on Amazon

49 notes - Posted September 25, 2022

#4

Pokémon Legends Arceus Theory

Y’all remember that “found footage”-style reveal trailer we got for Hisuin Zorua and Zoroark? 

I’m pretty sure that the unnamed and unseen person recording it is Ingo.

He’s explicitly stated to be another time traveler, but unlike the player character, he’s lost his memory and has no Arc phone.

We can see that the phone is lost during the filming; from the environment, it’s clear he’s in the Alabaster Icelands, where the Pearl Clan base camp is located.

It is also the site of Lake Acuity, home to Uxie.

And according to one of the Pokédex entries:

Known as "The Being of Knowledge." It is said that it can wipe out the memory of those who see its eyes.

So being attacked by Zoroark, and then, perhaps, seeing the eyes of Uxie, would account for the condition of Ingo’s clothing, the lack of a phone, and the loss of his memories.

Is this conclusive without-a-doubt? No; as has been pointed out to me, Ingo would know damn well what a Zorua is. The Hisuin variant looks very much like its Unovan counterpart.

Still, the rest of the evidence does point to Ingo being our camerman. Which is both delightful and also very rude, Pokémon, how dare.

quick edit

forgot to mention Hisuin Sneasel can be found in the Alabaster Icelands, so it could very well be that Lady Sneasler found him and brought him to the Pearl Clan. Just bringing it up. :3

70 notes - Posted April 3, 2022

#3

TIL Demyx has perfect pitch

he’s tuning his sitar but doesn’t have a tuner. he’s doing it by ear.

90 notes - Posted May 11, 2022

#2

Drac Attack Pack Saturday, September 30th, 1893

illustration by Greg Hildebrandt this copy of dracula can be found here on Amazon

1,147 notes - Posted September 30, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

O Captain, My Captain

illustration by Greg Hildebrandt

this copy of dracula can be found here on Amazon

2,346 notes - Posted August 8, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[sisi-sarsoura]

I posted 204 times in 2022

21 posts created (10%)

183 posts reblogged (90%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@zu-is-here

@lailosh

@yuriyuruandyuraart

@help-im-a-gay-fish

I tagged 115 of my posts in 2022

Only 44% of my posts had no tags

#sisi art - 19 posts

#my art - 18 posts

#sisi's sona - 16 posts

#my ask :p - 5 posts

#xd - 4 posts

#:3 - 3 posts

#my god - 3 posts

#ha - 3 posts

#melody - 2 posts

#sisi answered - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#zu! u lil bean!! i almost dropped my phone because of u!! now i can't stop staring at this shit and probably will for the next 6 hours—!!!!

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Today is my birthday!!!

God i'm 18 now :3

Now i can finally feel what to be an adult now :)

11 notes - Posted May 24, 2022

#4

I just made my own animation today

12 notes - Posted March 20, 2022

#3

Ayyy shitty drawings long Time no see mi amigos

Ok so here’s some of me doing reactions simping to noot noot and yada yada yada the whole think.

Tagging:

@shinechermont for being a lil cute bb

@yuriyuruandyuraart take my heart and love don’t u dare say no

@bluepalleteuniverse why are u screaming it’s a good movie

( ok I was planning to put all my friends in there but I realize I don’t have space so have these for now and mb one day I’ll draw them, one day)

Ok y’all have a good day <33

14 notes - Posted August 31, 2022

#2

Ok now its time… to introduce you to my own and only original character….

Melody! :D

Ok to be honest i kinda made her back at 2019 (or 2020?? Idr) and KINDA my mind though: hey what about we share this worthless drawings into tumblr?? Huh ;D , and then i did it, but SOMEHOW i forgot about it for about 2 years, and somehow it kinda pop outta my head and remembered that she exists, and right now i blame myself for being a terrible mother and leave my daughter into tumblr hell for 2 years

So yeah, i decided redraw her for god sake and revive her from hell web itself, so have her * hand her to you* ‘k see ya

Oh and just a clear note, as you can see i kinda changed her look from frisk clothes to *pointing to the drawing* dis, cuz all i love back then was undertale, (which i still am) and i didn’t have any ideas about her look, so i gave her clothes of frisk and my hair style back there.

14 notes - Posted September 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @yuriyuruandyuraart

Oh my goch! I can't believe our simp Queen is growing up, *sniff* you grown up so fast <'3

Anyways I wish you a good health and best life in the next 100 years * big hugg :3*

17 notes - Posted July 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[haadeswrites]

Elysium

god this fic took forever i’m so sorry!! but hey, first fic on the new blog! <33 also y’all should really thank @iwaasfairy who listened to me complain about this fic for a solid month, she’s the reason it got finished

Cult leader Oikawa Tooru x female reader

tw: indoctrination, extremely dubious consent, blood, yandere themes, religious themes, minor character death, implied abuse & drug use, mild smut, nsfw

The island itself is breathtaking

Pristine beaches with gleaming white sand, vast swathes of lush, green rainforest and waterfalls that cascade into shimmering pools of crystal clear water. Untouched, undisturbed; a paradise. At least, that’s how Ryuji had described it. 

Paradise, but only in the sense that a gingerbread cottage in the middle of the woods is paradise to a lost and hungry child. 

He hadn’t been wrong. Bare feet sink into soft, white sand as you climb from the boat - the warmth just toeing the line between pleasant and burning. Gentle waves ebb and flow behind you, and there’s a light breeze that kisses your skin, the taste of seasalt carrying in the wind. Home, it seems to sing.

A laugh sounds somewhere in the distance, yet the only other figure on the beach is a man walking steadily towards you. He smiles when he sees you’ve noticed him; friendly, non-threatening. It’s a far cry from the swarming welcoming committee you’d been dreading, and you wonder if that’s somehow intentional as well. 

As the boat pushes back out to sea he comes to a stop before you, “I’m Makki,” he says, pushing the fringe of his hair back and giving you a not-so-subtle once over. Whatever he sees must meet approval, because his grin only widens, “Welcome to the Commune.”

Ryuji wasn’t wrong; the island is a beautiful, deadly thing.

—

You’d never heard of the Commune before the phone call. 

And maybe that shouldn’t be so surprising. You’ll be the first to admit you’re hardly an expert, but from what you do know, groups like the Commune – cults – don’t spring up out of thin air and start broadcasting their mistreatment and systematic abuse. 

They’re not the kind of people that have sweet old ladies clutching their pearls and mothers shepherding their children away – at least, not in the beginning. Not entirely. They’re not out to recruit extremists to further their cause, they choose to prey on the vulnerable, the lost and the disillusioned. Those easily manipulated. You suspect that’s why when you google the Commune, all you find is a website for what essentially looks like a long term luxury wellness retreat.

‘The Commune is about healing and harmony, about returning to nature, supporting one another to forge a brighter, more holistic future together… a self-sufficient community living apart from technology and other evils of modern society.’ 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you scroll through. There’s a whisper of philosophical teachings woven throughout, a page dedicated to their founder, Oikawa Tooru – smiling handsomely in every single picture, because what would a burgeoning cult be without a charismatic leader – but there’s not enough.

So here you are, on an island hundreds of miles away from home living amongst strangers; because Ryuji wouldn’t have sounded so terrified if this was just some alternate, free-loving bunch of hippies.

And even with all that he’d told you, everything you thought you’d be prepared for, the Commune is like nothing you could’ve imagined. 

Makki introduces you to Asuka, a woman only a few years older than yourself, dark haired and stunningly beautiful, and winks as he tells her to take you under her wing. She smiles brightly, eyes twinkling, and pulls you into a heartfelt hug – as if you’ve known each other your whole lives.

“We’re so glad you’re here!” she beams.

You’d like to hate her. 

It feels like you're supposed to, sometimes; when she gets that dreamy look in her eyes and starts talking about Oikawa and the Commune and how lucky everyone here on the island is. Yet there’s something about her – the genuine warmth she emanates maybe, or the kindness in her eyes – that makes it difficult for you not to like her.

“You should come to the gathering tomorrow,” she hums idly one afternoon, maybe a week or so after your arrival. The two of you are sitting on the edge of the pier, legs dangling down into the water, tangled fishing nets to be repaired strewn between you.

“I always go,” you reply.

She laughs, fixing you with a knowing look, “And sit right at the very back, all but running off the moment we finish?” 

And your traitorous heart skips a beat. 

“It’s okay to take things slowly,” she says. “We understand that being a part of the Commune is a big change from the life you knew, and that not everybody is able to see what we see and embrace those changes.” 

Asuka sets down the knot she’s working through and reaches for your hand, a gentle smile on her face, “But you shouldn’t be afraid. You’re meant to be here, I can feel it. You just need to stop fighting against it; surrender yourself to us, to the island, and everything’ll make sense, I promise.”

It’s dangerous territory. One wrong word could set off alarm bells, yet you can’t help pressing just a little.

“Do you ever miss it, then? Life outside the Commune?” 

Your family. Friends. The life you left behind before you came here to be brainwashed like all of the others.

“Why would I?” she answers without missing a beat, and it’s hard to ignore the bitter flicker of disappointment you feel at her answer. “The island provides for us, we don’t have to spend our days selling off tiny pieces of ourselves just to make ends meet. It’s paradise here, and we have Oikawa to thank for that. Why would I ever want to go back?”

Silence falls between you as you struggle to think of something to say to salvage the situation. Yet Asuka isn’t even looking at you, instead staring out at the water with a strangely pensive expression. 

“Did you know I was married once?” The words seemingly out of the blue, you can only shake your head. For a moment, she doesn’t reply, watching as the waves rise and crash offshore. And then;

“I was young, eighteen or so, fresh out of high school and he was a small town cop.” Her eyes flicker to yours, and your heart clenches at the sadness and pain echoing there. “I thought he was a good man, once upon a time.”

A chord strikes deep, your chest tightening involuntarily at her words. It’s not the same, of course it’s not the same, and yet… 

No. You stop the errant thought in its tracks. Groups like the Commune prey on the vulnerable, you know this. People like Ryuji, like Asuka, like–

Her fingers squeeze around yours, pulling you back to the present. “Come to the gathering tomorrow. Listen to Oikawa, it’ll help.”

—

She doesn’t give you a choice in the matter – dragging you by the hand to sit right at the front of the gathered crowd that very night.

Oikawa’s handsomer up close; tall and dark haired with pretty eyes and long, sweeping lashes that frame delicate cheekbones, it’s not hard for you to see how a man like him has amassed such an impassioned following. 

Once he starts actually speaking, however, you realise that his good looks and charming smile are just the tip of the iceberg. Oikawa’s utterly captivating as he preaches about the cycle of life and death and the paradise that awaits his faithful. Passionate and engaging, he speaks like he truly believes every word of the lies he’s spreading. 

And Asuka, her friends, the others gathered, they eat up every word like it’s gospel truth, resounding cheers and thunderous applause deafening around you. In the midst of the rapturous din, Oikawa’s eyes flit to yours.

Slowly, he smiles – a dazzling grin that makes your stomach flip – and everything; Asuka, the noise, the others swarming around you, it all fades away.

For one electrifying heartbeat, you’re frozen in place. Just you and Oikawa, trapped in the pull of each other’s gaze.

—

You can’t forget the reason you came.

But it’s… difficult, in a way you struggle to understand. You only have one purpose for being here, one goal; find Ryuji and bring him home. 

And yet, some days it’s like there’s a fog in your mind, and you have to focus to remember why you’re here at all. You catch yourself laughing with Asuka and her friends, the days passing by in a blur of endless, easy distractions. 

It barely feels like work when you’re sitting under the shade of the trees, eating the fruits you’ve picked by hand – ripe and sweet, unlike anything you’ve ever tasted – diving off waterfalls into the crystalline water and meandering down the shore collecting seashells. Even when you are working, mending clothes or cooking with the others, it fills you with a sense of contentment you can’t quite explain. 

Like you’re a part of something bigger. Like you’re doing something that matters.

Ryuji becomes a distant thought. A whisper in the back of your head, a niggling in your gut, easily brushed aside and ignored until there’s a moment of quiet. In the dead of night, the balmy summer night’s breeze kissing your bare skin, you lie awake, lost in memories of the last time you’d seen him. 

Fists angrily pounding at your door, the yelling that gave way to sobs and the hoarse, desperate pleas that followed. Ryuji’s face; pupils blown wide and eyes rimmed in red, darting restlessly around as he held you too tight and begged–

Rolling over in bed, you gaze out your window at the star flecked sky, the shadows of the forest that lie at your doorstep, and wonder what it is that scares you more; that you’ve lost track of the days you’ve been here, and saving Ryuji is starting to feel like an afterthought, or that you could so easily forget all of it, find a place here in the Commune and be happy.

‘The island, it–it fucks with your head.’

Ryuji’d told you that, and you’d brushed it off as paranoia. You need to find him. Find him and get the hell outta dodge.

You can deal with the fallout later.

—

Kiyoshi. 

He’d mentioned the name a few times amidst his rambling – a friend of his on the island. You’re annoyed with yourself for not thinking of it sooner, however much like Ryuji himself, trying to focus and remember the name is like wading through thick mud.

Once you do, though, finding him amongst the hundred and fifty or so inhabitants is the easy part. 

There’s no strict division between genders within the Commune, however Kyoshi, despite his somewhat lean stature, is among the builders of the island and his path doesn’t often cross with yours. 

From Asuka you find out that he’s been a part of the Commune for years now, before even she joined, and that he mostly sticks to himself, though you’ve seen him chatting quietly to a few of the other men, a perpetually angry looking blonde in particular.

It’s the last part that piques her interest, “Why’re you so curious, anyway?” she asks, her face lighting up as a sudden thought occurs. “Do you want me to introduce you two? To be honest, I didn’t think he’d be your type, if you’re interested, though…”

Cheeks aflame, you’re quick to shut her down. “No, no, nothing like that. I’ve just… seen him around and we’ve never really spoken, I guess.”

A lame excuse, though mercifully she lets the subject drop without too much prodding.

Therein, of course, lies the problem. Walking up to Kyoshi and casually trying to drop Ryuji into the conversation without raising red flags is risky, but what other options do you have? You’ve already spent too much time on this island.

Although, maybe Asuka has the right idea. 

While you hadn’t been lying when you said you weren’t interested in Kyoshi in that way, nobody else knew that. Who would really look twice at the shy newbie striking up a conversation with the quiet, easygoing man? He wasn’t unattractive per se, and from the brief interactions you’d seen of him, he seemed kind enough.

You have enough patience (barely) to wait for dusk the following night. There’s a celebration, something about the full moon and a blessing on the island and the Commune– you hadn’t really been paying attention when Oikawa had spoken about it. Still, it’s too good an opportunity to pass up. With the fire pits crackling, and the dancing and music and the sweet honey wine flowing freely, nobody will be paying too much attention to what you’ll be doing. Hopefully, the alcohol will also serve to lower Kiyoshi’s guard, and perhaps if you’re really, really lucky, loosen his tongue as well. 

Of course, you’re not banking on him telling you exactly where Ryu is or what happened to him– and that’s assuming he actually knows – but at this point you’ll take anything over the nothing you currently have. A tiny slip up, that’s all you’re asking for. 

As the sun descends beyond the horizon, you play your role well, laughing and chatting amongst friends, sipping carefully at the cup of wine in your hand as you wait for an opening. And perhaps it’s your nerves working against you, but you find that it’s not just Kiyoshi your attention is drawn to. 

Up on the shore, away from the rabble, Oikawa lounges back with a cup of the same honeyed wine you’re pretending to drink. For the most part he seems deep in conversation with Iwaizumi, his right hand, but every once in a while he glances up, letting his gaze roam over the crowd of his followers.

Every inch a king and his general.

And it would seem benevolent, if not for the strange smile he wears – the one that widens when his eyes catch yours.

Swallowing tightly, you force yourself not to dwell on it, to ignore the odd sensation curling in your gut and the way your skin prickles under his attention. Now is not the time to lose focus.

Pushing all thoughts of Oikawa aside, you subtly scan the beach once more, only to find that Kiyoshi’s moved, sitting now on a piece of old driftwood near the bonfire. Alone for the first time tonight. 

Your legs are moving before the thought even fully registers. 

“Do you mind if I sit?” you ask, gesturing to the empty space on the log beside him. 

Kiyoshi smiles, the laugh lines at corners of his eyes crinkling pleasantly, and shakes his head, “Not at all.”

“Thanks.”

Taking another sip of your wine, you will your shoulders to relax, your racing pulse to slow. This has to seem natural, and so you force yourself to hold your tongue, let your head loll back and breathe deep, soaking it all in. You can hear the others in the distance, the music and the dancing, the happy laughter and shouts that beckon – you want to go join them. Even your blood seems to hum, a call of something other pulsing through your veins.

But you pay it no mind. There are more important things to worry about tonight. 

Indeed, steel blue eyes have been appraising you curiously for a while now. “This is your first Lunar blessing, isn’t it?” Kiyoshi asks after a moment.

You nod, humming in agreement. Less than a month; you’ve been here less than a month. Is that a good thing?

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

A harmless enough question, and again you nod your head. “Yeah, it’s…” you pause, searching for words that won’t sound hollow. “It’s paradise. I feel like I need to pinch myself just to make sure it’s real.”

He smiles gently. “But?” he probes.

Grimly, you wonder whether Kiyoshi’s usually this perceptive, or if you’re just a really terrible actor. In a way, you suppose it really doesn’t make a difference; you’ve come too far to turn back now – at least not without raising suspicion. 

So you lie with a truth, and pray that it works.

“I had a friend I was supposed to meet here,” you confess quietly, gazing not at him but the crackling flames of the bonfire, the burning embers carried off into the night. “He was the one who said I should come, but now I’m here and he’s not and every time I catch myself enjoying this–”

“You feel guilty,” he surmises, cutting you off. “Because he’s not here to enjoy it with you.”

Wordlessly, you nod – and maybe it isn’t so much of an act when your eyes begin to glisten, your smile wavering. 

Kiyoshi’s silent for a moment, and you take another sip of the honey wine to hide your nerves. “You shouldn’t, you know,” he says eventually. “Feel guilty, I mean. You belong here, with the Commune. You’re happy here. Paradise… isn’t for everybody.”

He doesn’t say it to be cruel, more like he’s simply stating a fact, and somehow that makes it all the more unnerving. And it’s nothing you haven’t listened to Oikawa preach about time and time again. The Commune is for the devoted, the faithful – the lucky few – and you’ve never thought too hard about what he’d meant by that.

The Commune’s small, maybe a hundred and fifty or so people on the island. There’d been no initiation, no test of faith or trial period you’d had to pass when you arrived – at least, none that you’d been aware of. You simply stepped off the boat and they’d welcomed you with open arms. 

An uneasy sensation settles into your gut, goosebumps prickling at your skin despite the heat of the midsummer night. 

That… doesn’t make sense. It can’t. Absolute control’s too important in groups like this, they couldn’t just let anyone–

Kiyoshi speaks again, his calm voice pulling you from your thoughts. “What was his name?” 

You blink at him slowly – stupidly. “Sorry?”

“Your friend,” he clarifies. “What was his name?”

“Oh, um- Ryuji.”

Kiyoshi’s brow furrows in thought for a moment, but he merely shakes his head, “Doesn’t ring a bell, but like I said, not everyone who arrives stays with us for long.”

He looks you right in the eye as he says it.

You don’t understand the cold, foreboding that seeps through your veins, because he’s lying. He has to be. 

Ryuji was here. They were friends, Ryu’d told you that–

Why did you think this stupid plan would work anyway? That he’d tell you anything, much less the truth when this whole fucked up island is full of liars and those too indoctrinated to know the difference?

“You alright?” he asks when abruptly, you shoot to your feet beside him.

And it takes every ounce of willpower you have left to force an easy smile to your lips, raising your cup just a fraction, “Yeah, just gonna go get a refill. Thanks for the talk, Kiyoshi.”

Whether he notices that your wine’s barely touched or not, you don’t care – not as you turn on your heel without another word and head back up the beach. 

Your head is pounding, your body trembling – you don’t hear the call of your name until a hand reaches out and grasps at your wrist, spinning you around.

Asuka greets you with a wide grin, Makki and a tall, broad shouldered man you think is called Mattsun standing either side of her – the former’s arm slung casually over her shoulder. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you,” she says. “Come on, we’re gonna go swimming, it’s so pretty out there!”

You glance out towards the ocean. Moonlight bathes the inky blue water, light shimmering off the rippling tide; some of the others are already out there, splashing amongst the waves. 

“Clothing optional, of course,” Makki laughs, and Asuka tugs on your wrist once more. 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

But you shake your head, slowly pulling your hand from her grip, “I’m not feeling great, I think I’m gonna head back.”

Asuka frowns, concern marring her pretty features. “Are you okay? Do you need us to call Mizo–”

“No,” you say, cutting her off. Healer Mizoguchi is the last person you need to see right now. “I just– I just need to go lie down for a bit. You guys go have fun – enjoy the blessing, I’ll be fine.”

Makki and Asuka share a fleeting look, but it’s Mattsun who interjects before either one of them can speak, “I’ll walk you back, then.”

Your stomach churns. It doesn’t sound like a suggestion.

And the smart thing to do would be to accept his help; the walk from the beach to your villa isn’t far, and while you’re not as familiar with Mattsun as you are with Makki or Asuka, it’s not like he’s going to hurt you or anything, but–

“Really– you don’t need to, it’s fine,” you smile weakly, shuffling back as he reaches to offer you his arm. “Go swim, I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Mattsun shrugs easily enough, falling back into line with the other two – yet there’s something in the way he grins and holds your gaze for a beat longer. A glimmer of amusement, as if there’s some joke you're not a part of. “I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.”

The heat that floods your cheeks clashes uncomfortably with the cloying heaviness in your stomach, but somehow you manage to stutter out one last goodbye before turning back to scamper off in the direction of your room.

–But not to lie down.

There’s not a cloud in the sky, and the full moon’s bright. No need for a torch, not unless you decide to venture into the heart of the forest.

You’ve been a fool. Kiyoshi, Asuka, Makki, Mattsun; you can’t trust any of them to help you, even unwittingly. Ryuji’s here on the island – somewhere – and every second that slips away, every second that you allow yourself to forget puts him in further danger.

And so you cling to your discomfort, ground yourself in it. The prickling sensation at the back of your neck, the tightness in your chest as you slip past your villa, keeping low and quiet – they’re a reminder that there is something insidious here on the island, that you have to get out.

You and Ryuji.

He’s here. Away from the others, kept under lock and key as punishment, or maybe being forced to undergo whatever kind of glorified brainwashing they’ve got going on, but here. You need to be smart about this, because while you don’t intend to stop until you find him, tonight will be your best shot – while everyone’s distracted down on the beach. 

For the first time in a long time, it feels like you have a clear head. 

Creeping through the underbrush, you steer clear of the well trod pathways that lead towards habitation. You’ve been there, and to the docks, and the river. 

If they’re still keeping him here (and they are, you refuse to entertain the possibility that it could be otherwise) then it’s not somewhere out in the open. A bird cries out in the distance shattering the calm of the night, and you flinch – but it only serves as another reminder that your time tonight is limited; you cannot afford to delay. You wrack your brain, trying to dredge up memories of the last few weeks, surely you must have seen something–

“Lost?”

The single word, spoken in a deep, gruff voice has your blood running cold.

Slowly, you turn. 

Iwa stands behind you in the thicket, his face utterly impassive. Briefly, you contemplate whether it’s worth trying to bluff your way out of this, but Iwa’s eyes narrow, flashing in the dim light and you think better of it.

A sigh escapes you, your shoulders deflating. “Where is he– Ryuji?” you ask; a whisper rather than a demand.

Iwa’s expression gives nothing away. Did he know, or have you handed him the smoking gun of a crime that’d fallen through the cracks? Does it even matter anymore? You’re just–

You’re tired. 

Exhausted. In the space of a few moments all of that shining determination and resolve; it fled, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. This has to end, you can’t keep fighting against them forever. You can’t keep drowning in this guilt, feeling torn every second that you spend here on this stupid island. You just want to find Ryuji and go home.

… Right?

A tense beat passes as Iwa appraises you, and then; “Come with me.”

The hand he places on your shoulder doesn’t give you much choice. His grip isn’t what you’d describe as gentle, yet he’s careful enough to make sure you don’t trip or stumble as he marches you north. 

In the thick of the forest away from the beach, it’s eerily quiet. Every twig that snaps underfoot, every ragged breath you draw; it feels too loud. Out of place amongst the stillness of the midsummer night. 

And isn’t it ironic, that for the first time since you set foot in this paradise, you feel like you’re trespassing?

A bead of sweat trickles down from your temple and your mind unwittingly drifts back to Mattsun and Makki. Are they still swimming with Asuka? Probably, you reason. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly how long it’s been since you left them on the beach, but surely no more than an hour.

And strangely, like water drawn from the depths of a well, an image comes to mind; the four of you standing in the waves, you perched atop Mattsun’s shoulders, screaming and giggling in delight as Asuka tries to knock you down again, two sets of eyes watching from the shore… 

You should have stayed on the beach.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“You can ask,” he replies drily – humouring you, you suppose.

Your lips quirk upwards for the briefest of moments. “What happens on the Lunar blessing? Asuka, the others– no one told me what it was.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer you immediately, but you feel his fingers reflexively tighten on your shoulder. Likely it wasn’t the question he was expecting; surely there were others that you could have asked – but you don’t really want the answers to those.

If you’re being led like a lamb to proverbial slaughter, what good would it do you to know it? 

And yet as the seconds pass and no answer seems forthcoming from your captor, you resign yourself to the fact that your curiosity will remain unsated. You don’t even know what prompted you to ask in the first place; knowing Oikawa it’s probably some grand, meaningless spectacle. Pretty, hollow words spoken only to–

A heavy sigh draws you from your thoughts, and you falter in your step, almost tripping over your own feet in the process. Iwa’s quick to right you, urging you forward with a less than gentle nudge. “Walk straight,” he grunts, yet it lacks any true heat. Anticipation flutters through your veins, and he mutters a soft curse behind you. “Fine. It… it’s an exchange.” 

An exchange? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Your eyebrows draw together, mouth opening to press the matter, but Iwa beats you to the punch.

“You’ll find out for yourself soon enough, now shut up.”

You have no response to that, so you do.

—

The two of you walk in silence for what feels like hours. Eventually, the terrain becomes steeper, the worn path you’re treading twisting and winding, and you realise you must be close to the mountains at the heart of the island. 

As your breath comes in heavy pants, your legs beginning to ache, you can’t help but be lost in the beauty of it all.

The flora’s different here, unlike any you’ve seen before. Flowers bursting from the bark of towering trees, blooms of vibrant hues; reds and purples and soft, baby pinks. Even the vines at your feet curl amongst pretty white buds that gleam invitingly under the moonlight. Your jaw falls open as you gaze around in wonderment. 

You forget why you’re walking, where it is that you’re heading. Iwa’s grip relaxes as a quiet gasp escapes you, and he doesn’t stop you when you stray from the path to take a closer look. You can’t resist reaching out to touch the silken petals, leaning in to smell their perfume. Soft and light and sweet, your eyes flutter shut, a smile creeping across your visage. 

It reminds you of home. Not your actual home – the rundown, tiny shoebox apartment you gave up before you came here – but something deeper.

Home, like the long summer days spent playing in your parents’ backyard. Home, like afternoons curled up by the window, watching the rain come down in sheets outside. 

Home, like the comfort of arms wrapped around you; two hearts beating in sync.

“C’mon,” Iwa interrupts after a minute or so, his voice a touch less gruff. “We’re almost there.”

Dazed, you find yourself nodding, allowing him to guide you back to the path. This time, he doesn’t grab you by the shoulder, seemingly content enough to walk by your side. 

True to his word, it’s only another few minutes before you see it; a wooden villa, four times the size of your own and far, far grander, set amongst a clearing of trees on the mountainside. Confused, your eyes flicker from the villa to Iwa and back again. Gossamer curtains billow lightly in the breeze, a warm, inviting glow spilling from the open windows. Surely this cannot be where he meant to lead you… and yet he merely stands at your side, arms folded across his broad chest, watching you expectantly. 

“You gonna make me carry you up there?” he asks, not unkindly.

Swallowing tightly, you shake your head. 

Another glance, and you catch a shadow lingering by the window. Your heart skips a beat, apprehension curling in your gut as you begin to walk, every step feels less steady than the last. You’re almost glad when Iwa takes you by the arm; if only so that you have something to focus on other than the growing tightness in your chest. The villa, with its pretty flowers and airy, elegant grandeur is far from the isolated cell you’d been afraid of, yet the uncertainty of what you’re walking into eats at you all the same.

Is this where they’ve been keeping Ryu, or has he brought you here for another reason?

Nothing, however, can prepare you for what you find inside. Warm light emanates from lanterns that bathe the room, and your eyes widen as you stare around you.

Strange, gold carvings inlaid with mother of pearl decorate the thick, woodens support beams, a pot of incense burns on a table overflowing with fresh fruit. There’s a jug of the same honeyed wine you’d drank earlier in the night and two cups set on an ornate stand nearby – just within arms reach of one of the chaise lounges.

Iwa affords you little time to gape, drawing you further in. Silken tapestries hang from the walls – you’re pulled along too quickly to truly take note, but the brief glimpses you get hint at a story; a divine being cast from his home, lost and wandering.

It tugs at something buried within you, and uncomfortable, you tear your eyes away.

The two of you reach a closed door at the end of the hall, and Iwa pulls you to a stop, knocking once.

“Come,” a familiar voice calls.

You stiffen, though perhaps you should have foreseen this outcome. Who else would Iwa bring you to but to him? Distantly, you register his grip relaxing, the sound of the door sweeping open and his voice at your ear.

“Go on.”

And it’s funny, you think, how two halves of yourself can be so at odds with each other. Because while your stomach twists itself into knots, goosebumps prickling at your skin, your legs stumble forward of their own accord.

Two steps forward, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s a bedroom, that much you can deduce from the decor, but that’s not what captures your attention. Nor is it Oikawa, leaning against the bureau with a genial smile – at least not at first. 

No. In place of a back wall, there’s open space, not so much as a panel of glass obstructing the view before you. And what a view it is; from this height you can see the sprawling forest below, the coastline dotted with bonfires and the moonlit ocean shimmering beyond. Where the floorboards end, there are steps, you realise as you unwittingly inch closer, leading to a cascading spring – likely fed from the waterfall you can hear rushing nearby.

How easy it would be to brush aside your worries, you think, to shed your clothes, slip into the cool, calm water and lose yourself entirely. Even amongst all you’ve seen and experienced on the island so far, this is incomparable. 

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Oikawa murmurs, coming up behind you.

His voice startles you, yet when you turn, you find him not gazing out at the scenery but rather at you, that same strange, knowing smile curling at his lips.

“Some days, I admit, it’s hard to tear myself away,” he continues, unbothered by your stunned silence. “But even I can’t neglect my duties for too long.”

You swallow, tongue darting out to wet your lips. Confusion twists through you at the conversational tone, surely he hasn’t brought you here just to chat about the impressive views, yet there’s no hint of disapproval on his face, no indication that he’s anything less than pleased with you.

It’s unnerving to say the least, but you’ll play along with his game if that’s what Oikawa wants.

“Beautiful,” you say, though the words feel woefully inadequate even as you speak them.

He hums in agreement, something akin to pride flickers in his eyes at your assessment, “A labour of love, I suppose. But… everything you see here, everything I’ve built, it comes with a price. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry?” you stutter.

“Paradise,” he elaborates, his smile widening. “There’s no give without take. Those people down there,” he nods down at the beach, the tiny, ant-like figures still milling about, “the lost, the beaten, the abused – I gave them what they so desperately sought; a sanctuary. A life without struggle, without suffering.” He pauses for a moment, reaching forward to take your hand. You almost flinch, almost skitter across the room to put as much distance between you as you can, but you don’t–

His palm is warm as it envelops yours, a pleasant heat that seems to spread through your veins, easing your tense muscles. There’s nothing to fear from him, you’re safe with Oikawa.

“Aren’t you happy here?”

Yes.

“What about the price?” you ask instead, though it takes more concentration than it should to force the words out. 

Oikawa’s thumb sweeps along the back of your hand. “I never said it was your price to pay,” he soothes. 

There’s something wrong with that sentence, but another sharp knock at the door draws your attention before you can think too hard about it. You turn out of instinct, barely aware of the way his hand tightens fractionally around your own.  

A single finger at your jaw coaxes your attention back to him. “If you built a paradise, wouldn’t you give whatever necessary to ensure it flourished?”

Oikawa stares at you expectantly, deep brown eyes searching your face as he waits for an answer. Agreement would be the logical choice – the one he seems to want from you – but even as your lips part, the only sound that escapes is a breathless, confused noise. 

When you were a kid, maybe six or seven, your parents took you to the beach one day and you waded too far out into the water. The waves were bigger than you expected; all it took was one mistimed jump and you were dragged under.

It wasn’t for long, probably only seconds, and ultimately you were fine – but you remember those few seconds so vividly. The feeling of helplessly tumbling through the water, fighting to break the surface but not knowing which way was up. Your lungs crying out for oxygen, the disorientation and dizziness, the panic.

It feels like that now – like the floor’s dropped out from beneath you and you’re just hurtling through empty air, desperately trying to slow yourself down with nothing to grab onto.

None of this makes any sense. Your emotions are shot to pieces, too many parts of yourself being pulled in different directions and you’re not sure which ones you can trust anymore. How can you be? Oikawa’s still holding your hand, smiling at you, and you just want everything to stop for a second so you can right yourself and breathe–

The door opens.

Iwaizumi appears in your field of vision, dragging a bound, hooded figure behind him. And because this is all some big, cosmic joke, you get your wish. Both of them, actually. 

Time slows. 

Even with a burlap sack pulled over his head, you recognise the man Iwa shoves to the floor and sneers at. 

Hundreds of miles, weeks of uselessly traipsing around this fucking island, and finally– 

Finally, you’ve found Ryu.

There should be relief. Fear, considering his current state, yes, but Ryuji’s here and he’s alive and as the hood is ripped off his head Oikawa squeezes your hand and the only thing you feel is… anger.

Not a heated flash that surges through your blood. It’s slow and seething, insipid. You look at him, locked in place as empty, pleading eyes meet yours and all you can think is that all of this – everything – is his fault.

“Asuka told you why she came to me, didn’t she?” Oikawa asks.

Your brow furrows, why–why is he asking you that now, how did he even–

He slips closer behind you, letting your hand go in favour of your shoulder, his spare dragging lightly along the bare skin of your arm. “She was lost, in so much pain. The physical wounds, they heal after a while,” his voice is right in your ear, a low murmur that sends a shiver rippling down your spine.

It isn’t an unpleasant feeling.

“But the scars inside, well… sometimes those fester.”

Gagged and bound, kneeling at your feet, Ryu doesn’t even try to make a sound. 

He’s thinner than you remember. Face gaunt and bruised; there’s a half healed, mottled yellow one painted across the left side of his jaw, one eye purple and swollen. You glance at Iwa, standing stoically behind him, muscular arms folded across his chest. His work, you wonder, or others as well? You notice the tear tracks running down his face, catching the light of the lanterns, but it’s as if you’re seeing it all through a thick pane of glass. None of it reaches you, there’s nothing but that simmering, ugly feeling in your gut.

Oikawa hums, “I told you that Paradise wasn’t for everyone. It’s a haven, yes, but there are those who simply… don’t belong.”

His body’s so warm, pressed up against yours. Fingertips graze along your side, and this time you don’t bother biting back that tiny, breathless moan. Iwa briefly smirks at it, but there’s no embarrassment. Why should there be? Your eyes flit back to Ryu, bowed on the wooden floor.

Another memory resurfaces; A sharp crack and a ringing in your ears, Ryuji, eyes bloodshot and glazed, falling to his knees, clutching frantically at the leg of your pants as endless apologies spill from his lips. 

It wasn’t him. It was never him. 

“He hurt you,” Oikawa purrs. “He kept hurting you, I saw it.”

The words wash over you like waves breaking on the shore, but you find yourself nodding anyway. It was the truth, wasn’t it? A thousand tiny hurts, piled up on one another until you finally broke.

And you’d still come when he’d called.

Listened to him when he’d begged you not to hang up the phone.

“Iwa.” 

The brunet moves towards a grand chest of drawers pushed up against the western wall. An ornate dagger sits atop, strange and beautiful; the blade isn’t steel or any metal you’ve seen before, but some kind of black stone, the handle intricately carved ivory. You hadn’t even noticed it before, Oikawa’s room filled to the brim with odd trinkets and treasures, but now that you have, it’s hard to tear your eyes away.

Iwa takes it and carries it over towards the two of you, holding it with the utmost care. 

“Obsidian,” Oikawa informs you as he accepts the blade from his friend, bringing it in front of you both to show it off. “Pretty, isn’t it?” And while you can’t see his face, you can hear the smile in his tone.

He isn’t wrong though. 

Ever so carefully you reach out, the soft pads of your fingertips running along the obsidian surface, surprisingly cool to the touch. The razor sharp edges – wavy and asymmetrical, leading to a tapered point – you’re careful to avoid, almost positive you’d draw blood with the slightest touch. 

“Take it,” he urges, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. 

Obediently, you turn your hand over, your fingers wrapping around the hilt when he presses it against your palm. And as long fingers curl around yours, you idly wonder how old the dagger is – there’s not so much as a scratch on it, yet there’s something about the weapon in your hand that feels ancient. It thrums under your combined touch.

Oikawa jerks his chin at Iwa, and with a short nod and one last, lingering glance cast your way, the latter exits once again. 

Leaving you and Oikawa alone with Ryuji.

“It’s almost time,” he remarks – though time for what, you’re not entirely sure. His lips press against your hair, his arm dropping from your shoulder to your waist, drawing you flush against him. “I know why you came to me, the lies that led you here.”

Both of you turn your attention back to Ryuji at that, the bound man now shaking with the force of his muffled sobs, snot dripping from his nose. That bitter resentment rears its ugly head again, soothed only by Oikawa’s pacifying hum, his thumb now rubbing slow circles at your side. “Shh, I’m not angry – none of that matters now. You’ve found a home here, no? You want to stay on the island with me.”

You swallow, nodding your head rapidly. The thought of having to leave now, of being forced out after everything you’ve seen and felt and experienced here, you– you can’t fathom it. You don’t want to. 

Ryuji’d wrought so much damage, but even before he’d swept through your life… had you ever been happy? Were you ever truly accepted – or loved, for that matter?

You can’t go back to that life. You won’t; he’ll have to drag you kicking and screaming from the shore. The Commune is your home, this is where you belong. Here, with Oikawa.

“Good girl,” he croons, another kiss pressed to the crown of your head. You beam at the praise and Ryuji crumples a little further. “Death begets life, you understand now, don’t you?”

You glance at the obsidian dagger in your hand and then at Ryu, beaten and bruised, bowed in forced supplication before you, and nod.

His fingers tighten around yours, “Then do it.”

Leaning forward, you reach for Ryu, fingers lightly trailing down his ruined cheek, curling at his chin to coax his head upwards. He squeezes his eyes shut, pain and regret etched over every inch of his face, but he doesn’t fight you. 

Baring his throat to your dagger, Ryuji’s pleas take the shape of your name.

Muffled, thanks to the gag, but unmistakable. And for one single moment, you falter. 

This… this is wrong; for all his faults, and god knows there were plenty, Ryu didn’t des–

A wave of calm washes over you, allaying your fears, your doubts. Your breath leaves you in a heavy gust, taking with it the tension in your shoulders, and Oikawa’s voice, smooth and honeyed, reaches your ears once more, “Nothing comes without a price, doesn’t he deserve to be the one to pay it?”

With your hand still tucked inside of his, your arm moves with a will of its own; slashing with inhuman grace.

The dagger cuts deep, Ryuji’s eyes snapping open in shock as a spray of warm blood hits you both. He chokes – a horrid, wet, gurgling sound – wide, pleading eyes frantically shifting between you and Oikawa. Every beat of his failing heart sends fresh blood spurting from the gaping wound. It drenches his front, splatters across your dress, your face, crimson pooling at the wooden floorboards at his knees. His mouth falls open and shut, trying and failing to form coherent sounds and you just stand there and watch, the dagger hanging limply at your side.

It doesn’t take long; seconds at the most. 

Ryuji’s slumps to the floor, his body finally growing still as the light fades from his eyes. There’s a beat of absolute silence, and then–

Oikawa shudders behind you, a strangled, drawn out moan leaving his lips. You try to turn, but his arms lock around you, every muscle tensing, his back arching. The dagger in your hand grows hot, burning the soft skin of your palm, but with his fingers still tightly entwined with yours you can only whimper and endure it.

With a hoarse, guttural roar, a pulse of pure energy surges through the room like a shockwave. Every cell in your body lights up, electrified, buzzing; a dizzying euphoria unlike any you’ve felt before coursing through your blood. 

Across the island, voices cry out in delight, a symphony of life. The trees tremble and shake, invigorated and renewed, fresh buds bursting from the forest floor, blooming under the light of the full moon.

The harvests flourish, even the river swells in response to the call.

Death begets life, just as he promised.

And with every inch of your body alight and singing with pleasure, you can barely think much less protest (and why would you want to?) as Oikawa roughly yanks you around, hungry lips crashing against your own as his fingers pull and tear at your bloodstained dress. He wastes no time with foreplay, and you suspect only begrudgingly takes a moment to hoist you up against him and carry you to his bed.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he hauls your hips to his, sheathing his cock inside of your warm, tight cunt with one savage thrust, but you don’t care.

Not as you cling to him, fingernails raking along his shoulders as he presses your thighs further apart so he can fuck you deeper. It’s hard and rough and brutal, yet you moan for him all the same, his name a prayer swallowed up by feverish, claiming kisses.

Tonight, bathed in blood and the soft glow of moonlight, you offer your god everything.

—

“Look, look!” 

A small hand tugs at your skirt, and you glance down to find a little girl with pretty, dark curls holding up a crown of woven flowers.

“Do you like it?” she asks. 

Carefully, you take it from her, bringing it closer to examine. She watches you intently as you study it, lifting it this way and that to appraise her work, humming thoughtfully for good measure. “I think it’s beautiful work,” you tell her after a long enough pause, and you can’t help but smile at the way she lights up, preening under your praise. “Why don’t you go show your mama? I’m sure she’ll be very impressed.”

The girl nods rapidly, thanking you before skipping off in the direction of her parents. The sun’s hanging low in the sky, the fires already being readied for the night ahead. You’re not unaware of the watchful gaze that carefully monitors your every move, and the moves of anyone who ventures too close by. Soon enough, you’ll return home to the heart of the island – anticipation fluttering in your belly at the thought of what awaits you – but for now, you let your feet sink further into the sand, closing your eyes as you bask in the lingering warmth of the setting sun.

At least until the sound of your name being called draws you back to the present. Yet it’s not Iwaizumi approaching, but rather Makki, two strangers trailing along behind him. 

“Thought I’d find you here,” he grins, throwing a casual arm over your shoulders. “This is Kaneo,” he gestures to the man, “and his wife Manaka. They arrived this morning, I’ve been showing ‘em round.”

You turn to the couple, smiling sweetly as you extend a hand, “Welcome to the Commune.”

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

The Heat | JJ Maybank x reader

Requested by anon / Summary: You and the pogues are having a day out on the boat and the heat gets to you. 

A/N: I hope you guys like it! xx I found some inspiration to write this during my study break and y’all it’s my new fav. anon-- thank you for requesting and I hope you like it!! xx 

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(Y’ALL THIS GIF IS SO FREAKING HOT UGH I LOVE HIM) 

You and the rest of the pogues found a great spot on the water that the boys could fish and swimming was also an option. It was a hot summer day and it being mid day, the sun rays were at their highest of the day. 

You, Kie and Sarah had packed snacks and drinks for all of you, making sure water was included to keep everyone hydrated. The boys were at the back of the boat fishing and the three of you girls were laying up at the front.

Sarah glanced behind y’all to make sure the boys weren’t paying attention. They were in their own little world of conversation. She nudges you, “So..” 

“Yes?” You hold your hand over your head to shield the sun as you look over at her. 

“You and JJ. What’s going on with that?” 

You groan and sit up. 

“yeah yeah, what’s going on with the two of you?” Kie eagerly asks, “I’ve noticed a little change with the two of you. Like how JJ hasn’t gone out on a date in weeks!” 

“That has nothing to do with me.” 

“Oh bullshit.” Sarah curses, “It so does!” She sits up as well. 

“Sarah’s right.” Kie nods, leaning back against the side of the boat, “I even heard him tell a touron the other day he had a girlfriend. Which we know was a lie.” 

You didn’t know that and look at Kie, “He said that he had a girlfriend?” 

“Well yes, but he was lying.”

“Oh for sure, lying.” Sarah confirms, “I think it was a way to keep the girls off him, make sure they knew he wasn’t interested in anyone else.” 

You grab your nearby water taking a sip, “What does all this have to do with me? Me and him are best friends.. you and everyone else on this island knows it.” 

“He’s letting people know he’s taken because he wants you! Not anyone else.” Sarah gives you a duh look, “I mean come on, y/n. you can’t honestly believe he doesn’t have any feelings for you. You two flirt all the time.” 

“He does not have any feelings for me. Plus, the flirting is just friendly banter. How do you girls jump to those kind of conclusions?” You stand, tossing your sunglasses on your bag. You take the chance to take a peek at the boys; JJ was already staring at you. 

“New bathing suit?” JJ calls out to you, covering up the fact he was in deed staring at you, but it wasn’t because he thought it was a new bathing suit. He’d seen that one before. He’s pretty sure you’d wore it last time on the boat. He just hoped you didn’t catch on. 

You glanced down at the bathing suit and raised an eyebrow at him, “Um.. no I’ve had this one.” 

Shit. “oh.” He nods, “It looked new.” He clears his throat and turns back to the water to focus on catching a fish. 

You take a deep breath, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the heat, “It’s hot out here. You girls want to get in?” 

Kie and Sarah decline your offer and you make your way to the side of the boat to jump off, suddenly feeling very dizzy. You grab the boat to steady yourself, “Woah..” 

“Hey, you okay?” JJ has already handed off his reel to John B, “You don’t look so good.” 

“I don’t..” You look up to JJ, but as soon as you do, you feel yourself float away. The last thing you hear is JJ’s voice yelling your name. 

~ 

“Should we call 911?! She might have hit her head, got a concussion.” JJ looks up at the pogues, worried. 

“JJ, calm down.” Sarah grabs a towel, wetting it and handing it to JJ, “run that along her forehead and neck to cool her down.” 

Kie grabs another towel, “hold this up and shield her from the sun.” She instructs John B and Pope, who do as she says. 

“She could have hit her head Sarah, I mean what if she has brain damage or something? She might have a concussion.. She could be.. she might not remember us or something.” JJ’s voice is filled with worry as he looks down at you, doing as Sarah said with the towel. 

“JJ, she didn’t hit her head.. You caught her.” Sarah holds back a smile. If only you were awake to see how worried JJ was about you. 

“The heat just got to her. She is probably dehydrated.” Kie says pulling a cold water bottle out of the cooler, “She’s going to be fine, JJ.” She gives his shoulder a pat. 

Your eyes flutter open and you’re immediately met with JJ’s blue ones staring back. Your head is in his lap, “What.. happened.” 

“You fainted.” He abandons the wet towel to grab the water bottle, “Scared us all to death is what you did.” 

“Us?” Sarah laughs. 

JJ gives her a look and you give her a confused look as you slowly sit up, JJ’s free hand on your back to help you sit up, “Thank you.” You say, taking a sip of the water from JJ as he puts the bottle to your lips. 

“We should head back to the Chateau. It’s too hot out here.” JJ looks at John B, who nods in agreement. 

“But we didn’t catch a fish.” Pope mutters softly as he goes to sit down, sad to be leaving so soon without a fish. 

JJ pulls his hat off his head, slipping it on yours, “To shield the sun off you.” He helps you stand so you can sit down on one of the seats. 

“Thank you.” You fix the hat on your head. 

Usually you’re seated in between Sarah and Kie on the boat rides, but JJ doesn’t leave your side. He continues to make you drink the water and also keeps a protective arm behind you on the edge of the boat. 

When the HMS pogue arrives at the Chateau, JJ only leaves your side to help John B and Pope dock the boat. Sarah and Kie beat him to helping you off the dock. “We’re going to get changed.” Sarah says to John B. She sees JJ’s face and holds back a smile, “We’ll keep an eye on her JJ.” 

JJ nods and turns back to help unload the boat with the boys. You and the girls get changed into some comfy clothes as the boys finish bringing the stuff to the porch. Since no fish were caught, John B suggested heading to the market to grab some to cook for dinner tonight. 

“I think that’s a great idea.” Kie nods, “You boys go and us girls will stay here to relax.” 

JJ approaches you on the porch, “You feeling okay?” 

You nod, “Feel better now.” You give him a reassuring smile and hold his hat out to him, “Your hat.” 

He glances at the hat and then his eyes are back on yours, “Keep it.” A small smirk plays on his lips, “Looks better on you anyways.” And with that he backs away from you and jogs off to the van where John B and Pope are waiting. 

You blush and slowly slip on the hat. When JJ sees the hat on you he lets out a whistle, “Damn.” He winks at you and then closes the van door. 

You laugh and shake your head turning around to see Kie and Sarah smiling at you. 

“Oh girl.” Sarah smirks. 

“He’s so in love with you!” Kie adds. 

Comments, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! xx 

Obx taglist: @poguestyleskye , @alexa-playafricabytoto , @kaelyn-lobrutto24 , @prejudic3 , @turtlee-says-rawr , @outrbanks , @k-k0129 , @annedub , @rockyyc77 , @ilovejjmaybank , @treestarrrrrrrr , @thedarkqueenofavalon , @write-from-the-heart , @lasnaro , @ircnwitch, @normatural , @kaylinfayezink , @lordsagittarius , @moose-squirrel-asstiel , @thelovelydreamer17 , @chasefreakinstokes , @fanficscuziranout , @diverrdown , @tregua-oca , @junkiemuppettxx , @afterglowsb-tch13 , @hardyxlove​ , @cinnamon-roll-seth​ , @copper-boom , @dpaccione​ , @themaddies-obx​ , @ocean-breezq​

JJ Maybank // Rudy Pankow taglist: @thatweirdblondesword​ ,  @saltwatercowb0y , @popcrone818​ , @thee-sex​ , @coni-martina​ , @pm-my-hubbies​ , @timotaychalabae , @katiaw2​ , @maybebanks​ , @sataninsatin​ , @obx-beach​ , @fangirlvoice​ , @lolitstiana , @teamnick​ , @danicarosaline​ , @losers-club6​ , @bananasfromtarget​ , @rudypankowswife​ , @fratboystark​ , @notmcchkn​ , @obx-beach​ , @ifilwtmfc​ , @mk15x , @bibliophilewednesday​ , @irdkwhatimdoinghere​ , @maybankbby​ , @halobaby​ , @lilsiswinchester , @iccyyyybitch​ , @http-cherries​ , @tovvaa​

All my works tag list:  @blossomreed​ , @mggstyles  , @simonsbluee​ , @thewolf-and-thesheep , @obxrafejjwhore​ ( @obxrafejjwhore​ ), @abbiesthings​ , @itstaskeen​ , @reniescarlett​

[thefanficmonster]

Hidden Powers

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Abuse allegations, Swearing, Mild melancholy

Genre: Humor, SLIGHT Angst, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic) - Sorry the genres are all over the place

Summary: A misconception or misunderstanding turned rumor threatens to bring down Corpse’s entire career, but luckily, Y/N knows better than to stand aside and let it happen.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your request and I’m so sorry for the long wait but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy the fic if you happen to come across it. Love, Vy ❤

“Fuck this game!“ Y/N yells out in frustration as she is met with the screen informing her of her failure - aka death - for the fifth time in the past hour. “Has anyone ever even passed night four? I’m sure the king of FNAF Markiplier has but I’m also sure he hasn’t done it one a livestream! And my big mouth really had to go ahead and swear not to end this stream until I pass this God forsaken night, ughhh!“

Typically, Y/N’s quite the fearful rat when playing horror games, especially when home alone like right now, but this FNAF game has gradually turned her into a raging gamer instead. Not raging as in kicking ass at the game but as in the game kicking the ass of her sanity. She’s been struggling with this specific night for a while - the better half of her previous stream and an hour into today’s. Well, seeing how little progress she’s making with each try, it’s gonna be way more than an hour into today’s livestream as well. She’ll be lucky if she manages to get past it before hitting the three hour mark or just rage quitting which she’s bound to do eventually if her gameplay keeps going at this rate.

Another try later, she’s once again jumpscared into a failure screen that’s practically mocking her at this point. Throwing her arms above her head, Y/N sighs heavily, the frustration she’s harboring becoming more and more evident in her body language. “You know what, I need a break. Lemme see what you guys are saying in the chat.”

Scrolling through comments upon comments greeting her, sending her compliments and some trolling her with some hateful remarks she comes across a question which makes her brows furrow. That same question is repeated by a few other people but they fly by so quickly she doesn’t manage to catch the people’s usernames.

“A bruise on my arm? Where?“ She says out loud as she inspects both her arms, looking for what her chat had been talking about. That’s when her eyes eyes land on the purple mark on the skin just above her right elbow. She laughs, “Oh this? I know I’m a clumsy person but Corpse is to blame for this one.“

Little does the girl know, her boyfriend, who’s currently in his own apartment instead of camping out at hers, is watching this very stream, laughing his ass off remembering how that bruise came to be.

His laughter is cut short though when he catches glimpse of Y/N’s chat which suddenly floods with concern from her fans - assumptions and allegations of him being an abusive boyfriend starting to pollute the previously cheerful comment section. His stomach turns, for many reasons, each reason making it tighten in a worse and more painful knot. 

The first blow comes from people actually coming up with such a thing. How could they even allow their minds to wander to such a dark and disgusting place where he’d be even remotely an abuser.

The second blow to his heart is delivered by the fact that people believed it. How and why could people believe such an absurd idea?! How low did these people think of him? What kind of piece of shit did he come off as to some people?

And the third is the mental image the idea gives him. It’s such a fucked up scene, he can’t even conjure it up, he can’t mentally picture it. Hell, he could and would never even raise his voice at Y/N. He’d never dare upset her or hurt her feelings let alone hurt her....like that!

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!“ Y/N’s gasp reaches him as though it was meant to fish him out of the downward spiral he started going down with these overwhelmingly dark thoughts, “What’s with this nonsense some of y’all are spewing in the chat?!“ She sounds downright angry and irritated, ready to fight whoever will continue spreading these rumors about her lovely boyfriend whom she absolutely adores. “Guys, I mean, seriously?! Do you have any idea what you’re talking about and WHO you’re talking about? Do we have the same Corpse in mind here? I doubt we do - you have some villainized, abusive version, and I have the loving boyfriend who tried to teach me how to handle a lightsaber so we can have a lightsaber fight and my dumbass used my own weapon against me. Yeah, I was pretty salty Corpse laughed his heart out while I was cringing in pain, but man, you guys take it farther than the farthest.“ Seeing his sweet, kind and non-confrontational girlfriend who always avoids conflict at all costs turn into this protective lioness because someone is talking shit about him is heartwarming and scary at the same time. “Y’all better shut the hole where these fucked up rumors surfaced from before you get one of the most innocent, loving and caring individuals in hot water for the BS you came up with! Copy? You better.“

Corpse has never in his entire life seen the topic of a stream chat change so quickly, the rumor never once getting brought up again.

That’s some serious power right there - power he never knew Y/N possessed because of her cute and soft exterior. Now he knows what kinda beast of a woman he’s dating - one prepared to do anything to protect him, no matter who from. And damn does that make him feel emotional and loved despite the shit that just happened. She can make him forget all the bad within the blink of an eye - that too is another superpower of hers, but this one he’s known about from the very start.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse  @sunnyrae-cessh  @ladykxxx08  @meowiemari  @renupf  @booklover76  @sra-verissimo

[rightsockjin]

Summary: Your best friend of your near entire life has been a total asshat to you ever since you started to casually date which didn't seem super fair to you since he did the exact same thing and you were nothing but supportive! It just sucks that you two are growing apart over a coping mechanism that you adopted to distract yourself from your overwhelming crush on said idiot. If only he knew. Wait- did you say that OUT LOUD?

Rating: M (What isn't on this blog?)

Genre: Maybe a little angst? Smut for sure tho.

Word count: 8003

Warnings: Thongs, sex, lewd thoughts, erections, physical pushing, raw dogging, cream pie, mentions of giving head, a looooooottt of swearing, mentions of slut shaming. Oh right- oppa kink and little splashes of korean as well.

yeo-chin= girlfriend

nam-chin= boyfriend

halmoni= grandma

apa=to hurt

aya=expression to express pain equivalent to 'ow'

Author’s note: HI EVERYONE! We are somewhat back!! So sorry for the long wait for content. Things have been insane and we’ve been working on a much- much longer fic for this blog which will involve all of the boys! It’s a long story but this hit me like a truck yesterday and it was initially meant to be a reaction but I couldn’t stop writing… so it’s 7k and the other boys will get their own version of this prompt “best friend is jealous of the attention you give to guys” thing. Starting once again with the one and only Yoongi! Hope y’all enjoy:)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know it’s funny, I don’t remember asking,” Yoongi said virulently, his attention centered solely on his phone as he scrolled through instagram... or twitter... or maybe it was tinder. Your heart sank. You had been excited that this guy- Woojin- had given you attention. He was good looking by a lot of standards and it had boosted your confidence significantly. Of course, you wanted to share that excitement with your best friend. Rejecting someone that good looking always made you feel really powerful and attractive but you had barely shown him Woojin’s picture and commented on how attractive he was before your so called best friend had brushed you off and went back to his solitude and avoidance.

You had noticed that something was off for a while now but hadn’t commented on anything to avoid any conflicts but this was ridiculous. You had constantly listened to the stories of how girls would trickle in like water for him. He seemed to be going out with someone new every two weeks.

It wasn’t fair that you had to put up with his annoying descriptions of how beautiful these girls were while you sat and gave him your undivided attention as your heart slowly chipped and broke with each new conquest of his. Especially when each girl was so different from who you were. At first, you thought that maybe you were annoyed by this simply because it was hurtful to think he didn’t at least think you were pretty. It wasn’t long after that that you realized that it hurt you when he went out with women who were your polar opposite because it meant that he would never date you.

This had been shocking in itself. You had known Yoongi for your entire life, or at least a good portion of it, and you had always seen him as a brother. Your oppa in the least sexual or boyfriend-y form possible, but when you looked at him now… he was looking a lot more like well- an oppa.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish. His words stung more than you would like to admit. Whenever Yoongi got this snippy, you liked to equal him in snip and double him in sass, never showing how vulnerable his disinterest made you feel, but this time, it felt like he had punched you in the chest with all his force and told you you were ugly to boot.

You didn’t want to cry in front of him either. He’d make fun of you. Last time you had cried, he’d awkwardly pat you on the head and quickly changed the very serious topic of your parents' relationship with yours to something totally different and not even a little relevant to helping you feel better. Given, that had been years ago and he’d never been very good at comforting you nor had he so much as expressed his support of you. Not since that one time when you had broken your wrist and he’d promptly pushed the girl who had been the culprit off the swing set thus getting himself suspended for a week and a half when you were both in elementary school.

But this… this was just cruel. It was ugly. It made you look at your “best friend” in a light that was not so shiny and pristine. He’d changed so much since then. He’d pulled away from you since then and you hadn’t even noticed. Or maybe you had and had just ignored it. Maybe you’d hoped if you didn’t mention it, that it would go away and he would come back full force with one of his dumb dances and pretty smiles. Maybe you hoped he’d realize soon what you had realized in your early twenties.

You loved him. And not the brotherly love that you had always had for him, no, you, Y/N, were very much in love with your best friend. Which made this whole situation so much worse.

When you said nothing, Yoongi briefly glanced up at you from his seemingly important phone conversation with most likely another of his soon to be dates only to look back down.

“What? Cat got your tongue? No snippy rebuttal? You’re not gonna chew me out for being mean to you again?”

His face was illuminated by the blue lights of his screen; he had it at the near darkest setting and his eyes were squinted to see it better. Something that had always annoyed you because you knew it was only hurting his vision.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. When that didn’t help, you cleared it, accidentally catching his attention. He clicked his phone off and looked over at you as if ready to argue but something in your face must have given away your inner turmoil because his hard features softened and his lips fell slightly open.

“Are you crying?”

No. Of course you weren’t crying. You never cried. Not ever. But then your cheeks were wet and the onslaught of emotion seemed to burst. How far had you fallen for this indefinitely cold man that his sarcasm made you fall in hysterics? Far it seemed. Too far.

You angrily wiped the tears away from your burning skin and crossed your arms over your chest. The hoodie you had stolen from him earlier that day felt like sandpaper against your skin as opposed to the comfort you’d initially felt when slipping over your head and smelling the fresh scent of his cologne clinging to it.

You felt him shift on the couch to face you fully, out of the corner of your eye, you could see his features had turned worried, alarmed even but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him nor care. Too little too late.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry.”

The words hung in the still air like a wrong note played in a symphony. It made your head spin and ache.

You didn’t dare speak. It would only give away how truly hurt you were by his words and actions. You didn’t want to be around him anymore.

Abruptly, you stood up and yanked the hoodie from your body. The tank you had on pulled up slightly showing the skin of your belly. It was lopsided, you noted when you looked down and saw that one side was pulled over and under your bra and the other was too high on your chest but you didn’t really care.

Yoongi watched you with conflict evident in his eyes, if only you would turn to see. He hadn’t meant to offend you. He’d only been trying to keep you at arms length. You had also been going out with multiple guys, telling him how good looking and tall they all were. Most of these men were also built like rocks and he himself was toned at best. Contrary to what you thought, Yoongi had come to the realization that he’d been in love with you since you were kids. He did not tolerate when anyone made you feel like shit, and, being a very mature kid, he’d told his mother quite early on that he would marry you someday. Of course, she’d only chastised him and told him that he couldn’t possibly know what love was nor could he force you to marry him, but he was adamant.

He’d stopped telling her about it after that though, and instead of telling you how he felt, he’d opted instead to watch over you and make sure nothing happened. So when in high school, you had started to date and it had not been him whom you had chosen, he’d made sure to keep the sorry excuse of a man you had chosen in line. That was… until the incident.

Yoongi would never forgive himself for not being there. For not stopping the bastard who thought he owned you. He’d never forgive the idiot either and if you hadn’t stopped him, he would have killed him with his bare fists then stuffed his own socks in his mouth.

It was then that Yoongi realized that you deserved better than him, and at the same time, no one was worthy of you. It was a strange dynamic. He’d never once approved of your dates, but had decided to start dating other women because, let's face it, he was a guy and he’d like to have children someday but not even in his wildest dreams could he think that you would ever settle for him. Someone who’d failed you as your self imposed protector.

Not that you knew any of that. You didn’t know that Yoongi often teamed up with your other best friend, your girl best friend to scope out your dates once you’d left. You’d almost caught them once as well and it had been by pure luck and the hair of a very out of place clown that both of them had escaped your wrath that night. You also didn’t notice that after you had fully broken up with that first asshole, he’d threatened to beat him to a pulp if he so much as breathed in your direction once more and later, he’d threatened ‘asshole’ two and three with the same things.

But then your dates had gotten taller and stronger and much harder to intimidate. He’d once made the mistake of threatening a casual date that you’d set up who was at least a solid half foot taller than him and he’d been laughed out of the restaurant only to find out later that the jerk had forced a kiss on you.

No, Yoongi’s days as your protector had dwindled and left him feeling half of the man he’d already thought he was and so his only defense, his only way to keep you safe- though now that he was watching tears well in your eyes he wondered what logic he’d used to justify this behavior- was to be the asshole himself and teach you how to deal with them on a first hand basis.

He hated himself for making you cry. He hated that you looked so dejected and hurt and like you never wanted to speak another word to him again. He hated that your shoulders slumped and that your pretty eyelashes were coated in wet tears and it was all on him.

“You know what,” you finally managed to say with some semblance of calm under the storm that was brewing in the irises he’d so loved, “I think we’ve grown apart a little too much. Maybe we should just- cut our losses and,” you heaved a deep breath, trying to keep yourself calm, “stop seeing each other.”

Were you breaking up with him? How were you even going to break up with him if you weren’t even dating? Yoongi’s heart sank into the pit of his stomach. He had tunnel vision. All he could see was you and the way that you seemed to pull yourself up from the ground, rebuilding before his eyes.

“Stop see-what? Are you demented?”

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Was that all he was capable of being? Wrong. Incorrect. Inexact. Erroneous. Mistaken. He was plain stupid for the words he’d let slip but there was no taking them back now.

You let your eyes widen as you wiped more of your furiously falling tears from your skin. You turned to face him, your shirt fixed and covering you exactly how it should and your features set and intentional.

“What’s the point? You clearly don’t want to be around me anymore and I’m tired of being berated every time I mention a guy. You’re the most unsupportive friend I have and that’s because I’ve known you the longest. If you don’t want to be my friend just say so instead of slut shaming me and bullying me every chance you get you asshat.”

“Asshat,” he chuckled, crossing his sleeve-covered arms over his toned chest, “real clever, Y/N. Is that all you got, kid? You never were one for words were you? Why don’t you just sock me instead?”

Oh you were considering it. He seemed so unbothered by the prospect of losing you that you realized maybe you had already lost him and hadn’t realized. You had dealt with your fair share of jerks in your life, but you had always counted on Yoongi to be your hope. He’d shown you that there were men in the world that seemed to care about women. Men who could love you even when you felt unlovable, unworthy, but here he was, proving to you once again that all men were the same evil and vile creatures, incapable of love or kindness if they weren’t getting their dicks wet.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Then you could go around saying that I’m a crazy bitch. You know what? Fuck you Min Yoongi. I hope you get well and royally fucked.” You yelled, grabbing the tote bag you’d brought over from your apartment and stomping to the door.

“Fuck you too,” he yelled, following you to the door. He caught you at the landing strip, prying on your chunky sneakers with a bit of difficulty, your house slippers, the ones he’d bought you, lay haphazardly nearby.

“And fuck all of those asshole guys you keep bringing home. Better yet, I hope you don’t fuck them.”

You turned your head up to look at him, confusion and disgust written all over your face.

“What the fuck do my dates had to do with what a fucking jerk you are?”

Choosing to ignore your question, he focused instead on your insult, “A jerk, am I? Well you’re a bitch. How do you like that?”

He didn’t know why he was insulting you. He didn’t think you were actually a bitch, but the anger on your face made him feel better.

It was followed by near instant regret as you drew yourself up to your full height and looked at him with pure venom in your gaze.

“I’m a bitch?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, trying to keep his shoulders square, but you were scary when angry and he’d never fared well in fights with you.

“I’m the bitch?”

“You heard me!”

You balled your fists at your sides, your eyebrows connected in the center and your breathing was heavy. He knew better than to use the B-word.

“You’re a piece of shit.” It was low but your voice carried and hit all of the bones in his body before it hit his heart and burrowed deep in the wounds he’d stitched up but pulled open multiple times over the years that pertain only to you.

“You are a sorry excuse of a man,” you growled, pushing him by the chest. Somewhere in the back of your mind you noted that it felt really firm and stronger than before.

“You’re an ass, Min Yoongi,” you continued, giving him another push so that he stumbled slightly back into the living room of his apartment once again.

“You low life,” another push, closer to the couch, “weak minded,” you shoved him, he sidestepped the glass coffee table where your untouched coffee mugs still rested, probably cold by now, “son of a bitch, fucking baby, involved sorry excuse of a man-” He fell onto the cough. Your vision was red.

“You already used that insult.” Was all he said as you stood over him, your chest heaved with the exertion of trying to keep yourself from slapping the now blank expression from his face.

A slew of incomprehensible noises escaped from your lips as words completely left your brain. Damn him. Damn this idiot of a man that you were in love with. He could go to hell for all you cared and you hoped that the devil himself ripped his testicles off and served them on a platter with some kimchi and fried rice.

“Okay first of all- ow,” The asshole said, pulling you back to reality and not your fictitious rework where Yoongi was now sitting at the end of a long table being force fed his own balls, “And second…”

You held your breath. Fear ran down your spine. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud-

“You-you’re in love with me?”

Well… he got his wish, you were royally fucked. Instantly, you tried to back track. Your mind kept replaying in your head what you had said and tried to correct itself but you couldn’t think of anything that could possibly absolve you.

“Like a brother,” you said finally, your voice shaky and thin.

Yoongi only blinked up at you. What you said was bullshit and he knew it. You knew it too.

“You’re in love with me… like a brother?”

“Oppa,” you clarified as if that would somehow make more sense, and it did kind of, but it didn’t absolve you at all. In fact, this only made a smile tug at his lips, his pearly teeth suddenly on display, blinding. You fought the smile that threatened to pull at yours too. It was always hard because his smile was so contagious.

Yoongi stood. He was less than an inch away from your own body. You felt small, meek. You’d misstepped this big game of chess you seemed to be playing. He was going to make fun of you. He’d never let you live it down. You liked him.

“You like me,” as if he had read your mind, he echoed your thoughts, or maybe you had spoken that out loud as well.

“No I don’t,” you argued, taking a step back just so you could have some space to breathe.

“Oh yeah you do,” Yoongi argued, his smile so wide you were sure it would hurt the muscles in his cheeks

“No,” you said again, not really thinking anything you said at this point would convince him otherwise. The son of a bitch was stubborn.

“Admit it,” he said, closing the distance between you again, his neck craned down to look directly at your face.

“I don’t like you!” You tried to take another step back but the coffee table knocked your feet out from under you. You fell onto it knocking Yoongi’s mug of coffee over. The black decaf liquid seeped into your shorts.

Yoongi’s rusty laugh was pried from his throat as he watched your face contort. He was having the time of his life, it seemed. Good for him.

“Stop laughing at me,” you groaned, your cheeks red. You were practically sweating from how feverish you felt.

It was like you hadn’t spoken. Your shorts were wet and made you feel sticky. In a fit of anger, like a child throwing a tantrum, you unbuttoned the denim and ripped them from your legs. This shut Yoongi up instantly. With the soiled fabric, you cleaned up the liquid before it fell onto the light grey carpet.

Yoongi stilled as his eyes traveled up and down your long legs.The way you were twisting, he could see the back of your left thigh up to where it met your ass- your bare ass. You were wearing a thong.

God help him, he was rapidly getting hard. He forced his eyes away from you, his walls being pulled back up at seeing you naked. Well partially so. He pushed his hands into his oversized hoodie and made sure that it covered his front. The last thing he needed was for you to see.

But then you turned and pulled your legs together, your thighs squishing attractively. What he wouldn’t give to be choked by those thighs.

“Let me wash those for you,” he said tightly, pulling a hand from his hoodie to take the soiled shorts, the hem of the fabric pulled up enough for you to see exactly what he’d been trying to hide.

Yoongi had a hard on. You weren’t sure why exactly you were surprised. You were attractive, that much you knew, but you never really expected for your best friend to see you in that way. In fact, you were pretty sure that you’d been in your underwear in front of him before and he hadn’t even given you a second glance, but there was the evidence. And God was there a lot of evidence.

Slowly, you handed him the shorts. His hand grabbed them tightly, avoiding touching any part of your hand with his. Then, after a slight pause, he turned on his heels and walked towards the kitchen to put the shorts into the washer.

You’d called him oppa. You rarely called him oppa and it had hypersensitized him to the word coming from your lips. Other girls called him oppa sometimes and it had no effect on him but there he was, stiff as a board and it had something to do with you calling him oppa and your state of undress. Fuck. He was fucked. So fucked.

At least he wished he could be… But no. He pushed those thoughts from his head as he threw in some nice scented soaps into the wash and clicked it to life. He shut his eyes, trying to think of anything that would drain the blood from his member- halmeoni maybe?- but your voluptuous ass kept intruding, giving his halmeoni some nice curves that messed with her wrinkled face. He shook his head once more and decided he’d just have to hide his boner until it went away, or go beat one out in the restroom really quick.

He grabbed a pair of his clean sweat pants from the drying rack to give to you, just so you would be comfortable, he told himself, not because the thought of your naked butt in them made him unspeakably horny.

But when he got back to the living room, what he found was not you, covering yourself with a pillow like he’d expected, but you, only in your thong- fuck did it have to be a thong?- and your bra. Your shirt was nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck me,” he groaned, burring his head in his hands and turning away from you.

“I mean, if you ask nicely enough that can be arranged,” you answered rather boldly. There was no way for him to know that you were quaking in fear for his rejection.

Yoongi’s dick twitched in his sweats.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said under his breath as his heart beat faster. He felt like he was having a whole heart attack. He patted his chest, hoping to calm it down knowing it was useless.

Should he go for it? You had just admitted accidentally that you did have feelings for him and you were clearly propositioning him. Should he just-

He turned around, back to face you, determination paining his expression. Still on the coffee table, your legs were spread open, only covered by the thin sliver of fabric that your thong allotted. You were a little cold, but all of that melted away when you saw the way that Yoongi’s eyes roamed your exposed body, then stopped abruptly to meet your own.

He was in front of you in seconds, his longer legs carried him farther and faster than you had anticipated. Then he was pulling you to stand. You wobbled on your legs but one of his arms found its way around your waist. His free hand came up and held your jaw with two fingers on either side of your face, squishing your lips together slightly. His hot, heavy member pressed against your stomach through his sweats. He was so close that you could smell the coffee on his breath and the fading smell of his cologne you loved so much. All you wanted was to grind against him but you were held too tightly.

“You never know when to shut up do you?” But he didn’t let you answer. He crashed his soft lips onto yours, his hold on your jaw ached but you didn’t care. There was a passion in his kiss that you hadn’t expected, subtly dwindling to something more like tenderness, and the kiss continued. His lips dragged against yours delicately, pinching your top one with both of his. Small breaths came out of his nose, whistling softly against your cheek. You timed your breaths with his, high on the feeling of finally being kissed, coveted by him. Was it real? Was this actually happening?

Your brain suddenly caught up with your body. The rightness that came with the way he was kissing you, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he needed you to properly breathe, was like nothing you could have imagined.

The hand on your waist was drawing small circles where the elastic of your thong rested, his index finger casually hooked onto and under pulling lightly. You pressed yourself tighter than he had you against his erection. He groaned, his mouth opening and his tongue suddenly darting out to taste. He pulled your jaw open, granting himself entrance and exploring your mouth.

You moaned, a sound so sensuous and wanton that Yoongi felt that he could cum just from those sounds alone. He wanted more. He wanted you to sing his praises as he fucked into you and caressed your chest. He wanted you to drool around his cock and to have your sweet mouth wrapped tight around it. He wanted to feel you gag at his girth and he wanted to pull at your hair. But most of all, he wanted to kiss you, just like how he was at that moment. He wanted to kiss you until he’d taken your soul from your body and replaced it with his own. He wanted to kiss you until he could erase every trace of all of the men who’d hurt you and made you doubt that you were worthy and wanted. Yoongi wanted to kiss his love into you no matter how long he had to do it. If he was locked in a room with you for months, so be it.

But your hand had found its way between your bodies and was slowly coming down to his hips. Suddenly, he realized what he was doing and panicked. He hadn’t gotten your consent. He hadn’t asked you if it was okay for him to kiss you or to hook his fingers on your thong. As stupid as it sounded, even to Yoongi himself, he needed to make sure that you wanted this to happen, even as your hand had found the outline of his cock and you had started to trace the outline of it over the fabric-

“Tell me to stop,” he gasped, ripping himself away from you. The hand around your waist was now on your shoulder to keep you at enough distance so that his brain could function and wasn’t clouded by the horniness he was feeling.

“Wha…?” You slurred, your eyes were glazed over and your body was completely relaxed.

“Tell me to stop,” he repeated, fighting his every instinct to push your mouth open and have you suck on his thumb before he pushed you onto your knees to suck him off, “and I will.”

His eyelids were heavy and he was sweating slightly. He was so hard that it hurt and the circles you were drawing on his penis were not helping at keeping him at bay. He knew if he looked down, there would be a stain of precum on his sweats.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, leaning in and kissing his jaw before you nibbled and kissed down his taught neck.

“Fuck.”

“I want you to fuck me.” You licked a thick swipe up his jugular, “I want you.”

“Then admit it,” Yoongi heard himself say. He was just as surprised as you were to hear those words from his lips, “admit that you like me.”

You pulled away then, dropping both your arms in exasperation, “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m in my underwear, stroking your cock and you want me to stroke your ego too? Un-fucking-believeable. You’re a dumb ass.”

You rolled your eyes and flicked his forehead.

“Aya, apa~” he groaned, rubbing his head, the dynamic that you were used to suddenly restored.

“Yeah? Great! I’m glad that it hurt! I hope it hurts really bad you jerk. Then maybe you’ll understand what it was like for me to listen to you go on and on about all the girls you went out with every fucking week. In fact-”

“Aya! What the fuck? Stop flicking me,” he nearly screamed, clutching the tip of his nose.

“Make me.”

Big mistake. Yoongi didn’t take your dare lightly. His eyes darkened then he leaned down and picked you up. You squeaked, wrapping your legs around his waist as he walked you to his room. His hands cupped your butt fairly comfortably, like this was something you did often. He kicked the door open and threw you on the bed.

“You think I wasn’t hurt as well?” He asked, clasping a hand around your neck and lightly pressing his fingers against your skin.

“You think I like knowing that everywhere we go, men are watching you, coveting you the way I do? You think it isn’t torture when you go out and I don’t hear from you until the next day?”

He pushed you up against his pillow. The duvet was already all messed up under your body. He was between your legs, pressing himself into your core. Fuck, you wanted him. You wanted him all the way inside you. He wanted nothing more than to do the same but he had to make sure you knew first.

“You think it was easy being in love with you when you wanted nothing from me but friendship?”

Your eyes softened. Yoongi was in love with you too? When?

“Since we were kids,” he answered. Again you had spoken without meaning to. “I always knew it was you, Y/N. It was only ever you.”

But something wasn’t adding up. You fought your rising feelings of elation. You wanted to understand what he was saying. If he had liked you since you were kids then why had he never asked you out? Why become the serial dater he’d become? But he’d never had a girlfriend, you reminded yourself. He’d only ever “dated” and then dropped these women. You always assumed he was screwing them all.

Yoongi became sheepish then. “I uh… I did have sex with some of them but-” and the hurt in your eyes would be enough to kill him,” it was only at the start. I thought that if i had sex with other people I’d stop chasing after you. But it didn’t work… I haven’t slept with anyone since junior year of college.”

Your eyes widened. “College?”

He nodded, his pale cheeks blushing prettily.

“They just...were never you… and then I thought if I pushed you away that would help but that only made us estranged and-”

You pushed yourself up and shut him up with a kiss. He was over thinking and you could talk about all that later.

“You’re an idiot,” you started and he rolled his eyes, “but if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to do it myself.”

Yoongi’s eyes rolled into his head and he thrust lightly into your wet center.

“Talk after?”

“As long as you want,” you agreed, already pushing at his sweats. Yoongi sat up and pulled his hoodie and shirt off in one fell swoop, then, at the speed of lightning, pulled off his sweats, leaving him in his boxers.

After a moment of hesitation, he pulled his boxers off as well and then he was naked before you. Your mouth went dry. He was big. You could tell just by looking at him that he would stretch you good and you wanted so badly for him to pin you down and have his way with you.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Really? Cause that would be really helpful on days when I’m home alone-”

“Wha-no!”

You chuckled and lay down on your back, making sure that your legs were spread wide for him to have his fill. Like a moth to a flame, he was between your thighs, his tongue licking at the wet fabric.

He moaned against your covered lips, sucking up the arousal that clung to your underwear.

“Fuck, Yoongi yes,” you said without meaning to say much at all. You unclasped your bra and threw it somewhere in the room. You could look for it later. This caught his attention. He thrust his naked dick into the mattress, needing some sort of stimulation.

“Damn it… fuck, if I wasn’t so desperate to be inside you, I swear I could get you off with just my mouth all day, Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved off, gesturing for him to come up to your face, he did so without question, “Hurry up, I’m dying. Please.”

“Are you begging?” Yoongi’s lips curled lightly, teasingly,

“Do you want to get your dick wet or not?” He kissed the wrinkle between your eyebrows lightly.

“Yeah, can I take these off?” he hooked a finger on the elastic of your thong, pulling it a little higher than he probably should have. It was an old pair. You heard rather than saw the stitching on it pull apart and then the thing was hanging limply from Yoongi’s fingers, his expression shocked.

“Yoongi!”

“What? I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“For fuck’s sake! That was my favorite thong!”

“Well, clearly it was cheap,” he countered, throwing it across the room somewhere too.

You groaned, shifting slightly under him. His dick nuzzled between your wet lips. His mouth dropped open and a pleasured grunt escaped his lips.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he rut against your wetness, hitting your clit lightly, far too lightly, “you are so wet. God, this should be illegal.”

“Y-Yoongi… more,” he reached down between you two and found your sensitive nub without much hassle. It was like he knew your body already. Your body twitched under him and he circled the bundle of nerves for a couple of seconds. The noises falling from your lips were heaven on earth and Yoongi realized you were his new favorite song.

He gave your clit one rough stroke, ripping a small gasp from your throat. He gathered some of your slick with two practiced fingers and brought it up to eye level. It caught the low light of his room from the window, the smell enough to threaten to send him over the edge.

“Jesus Christ that’s hot.” Then he smeared it all over his penis and gave himself two rough pumps.

“Can I-”

“Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I’m asking-”

“Don’t care. Just do it. Yes.” You said angrily, pulling him closer and closer, his toned chest flush against yours.

“Have you been working out?” You asked, breaking the intense way he was staring into your eyes, his smile pulled wide over his gums.

He shrugged but clearly was glad that you’d noticed, “Namjoon and Jungkook convinced me to join them in the gym. It’s no big deal.”

“But your arms,” you complimented, squeezing his bicep. He flexed it lightly for you. You blushed when you realized exactly what you were doing.

“It’s just a little muscle,” he commented offhandedly.

The conversation lulled, he smiled down at you, and you up at him. He kissed the tip of your nose.

“So can I put it i-”

“I already said yes.”

“In your ass?”

“Ew no!”

Yoongi laughed loudly, “see this is why you can’t say yes to something without knowing what you’re agreeing to.”

“Shut up and put it in the right hole,” you groaned, then for good measure, “oppa.” It was a joke. You thought it was a joke, but something lit up in his pupils as two measly syllables rolled off your tongue and hit his eardrums. You felt his skin prickle under your touch and his member twitched against your folds.

Like a deer caught in headlights, you looked up at the handsome man. His eyes had narrowed as well as darkened. He looked absolutely ravenous and you wanted him to eat you up.

“Say that again.” He commanded as he pushed the head of his massive, and now that you could properly feel it, you knew that you had been right, cock at the entrance of your lower lips.

“O-oppa?” you questioned, astounded that the simple word that he’d no doubt heard his whole life had this effect on him.

“That’s right yeo-chin,” he growled, his voice gruff and harsh as he pushed lightly into you. His dick opened you painfully, perfectly.

“Yeo-chin?” You ask through the explosion of pleasure between your thighs.

“Is that okay?” He asked, suddenly looking really vulnerable and scared. You reached up, stroking his cheek lightly with your knuckles.

“Oh honey,” you trailed off, bumping his nose against yours before you pulled back abruptly, “If you want me to be your girlfriend, you have to ask me properly.”

Yoongi sighed, his smile telling you he expected as much and wasn’t hurt, “Talk after?” He asked again.

“As much as you want,” you reiterated.

And then he was pushing into you once again, surprising you because you could have sworn you had been full before but inch after inch, he pushed into your awaiting hole, filling all the emptiness you’d felt your whole life until his balls tapped your ass softly.

His face was contorted in pure ecstasy. At least from your perspective. Yoongi, in all truth, was trying his hardest not to blow his load into you already. He couldn’t believe his luck. He was inside you. He’d waited his whole life for this and he was finally inside you.

You wiped a bead of sweat from his temple and playfully licked his lips. He grunted against you, holding himself up by the forearms. Suddenly, he was really grateful that he had started to work out and that Jungkook had him doing three minute planks for fun. He’d have to thank him later, even if he did complain a whole lot.

“Can-can I move?” Yoongi gasped. Your walls fluttered around his member as if welcoming it home with soft caresses. You were so warm, maybe hot, he wasn’t sure, but you were tight and wet and all the good things in the world.

You only breathed, feeling so unbelievably full. It felt like he had pushed in all the way to your throat. You were no size queen, really, you weren’t, but if this is what they were going on about, you understood.

“Y/N,” he panted, his body begging him to move, “please.”

“Are-are you begging?” You giggled mirroring what he’d asked you before.

“Yes.” Without hesitation, he admitted, “Please… please…”

Well fuck. How could you say no? You nodded fervently, all mirth erased from your expression as he pulled out slowly, your juices squelched as your lower muscles tried to keep him in.

“Gah- ash-Y/N… you’re so tight.”

You only moaned in response, the head of his cock was still in you, stretching you to the point you didn’t think anyone could fully make you feel this way again.

“You’re so big,” you complimented scratching at his back. His muscles rippled under your touch.

He pushed back in, still torturously slow. It felt like you were being split in half. You felt like Olaf in the first frozen movie after he got stabbed by an icicle.

“Yoongi,” you gasped as he pulled out again at the same speed, his face screwed up in concentration.

“Oppa,” he growled into your ear, kissing roughly at your skin.

“Oppa,” you agreed, though it wasn’t your favorite word, he seemed to be getting of fairly

well so you let it slide, “move faster.”

“You sure?” He asked.

You nodded, knowing it was probably going to hurt but you wanted to feel him and you wanted him to cum.

“Yes.”

He didn’t need to be told again; he drew back, once again leaving only the mushroom tip inside you once again, and then he thrust. Hard. You nearly choked as he pumped himself over and over again hitting the nerves in your vagina. The slap of skin against yours was loud in the empty room, only accompanied by your moans and his pants and grunts. Your names mixed in every once in a while, your lips kissing any and all the skin that you could possibly reach. He licked at your lips and sucked bruises onto your neck, your chest. He wanted to mark all of you. He wanted to make sure you knew who you belonged to… as soon as he asked you right after he finished up.

This idea itself spurred him on, to thrust faster, deeper. He wanted to finish and make sure that you finished too, not quickly but soon. He wanted to talk. He wanted to make sure that you were in the same place.

So he reached between you both again, his fingers blindly found your clitoris and began to rub abstract shapes into it. Your back arched off the bed, your hair and boobs bounced with each thrust, his balls slapping against your ass. You were seeing white, your mouth wide open in a silent ‘o’. You were so close. So so close.

“Come, Yeo-chin,” he whispered against your temple, and though you weren’t technically his, the title sent you over the edge along with his fingers and the deep thrusts that hit your cervix.

“Oppa,” you groaned, your face screwed up.

That did it for Yoongi. His fingers on your clit stuttered along with his hips. His thrusts became erratic and he hit the sides of your walls. You squeezed around him as he over stimulated you through your orgasm.

“One more time… say it one more time,” he begged.

You complied, whispering it into his ear, it was cut slightly by a particularly pleasurable thrust. Yoongi felt pure euphoria fill his blood as his hips paused, then buried deep into your hole. Ropes of hot cum shot into you, filling you.

Yoongi panted heavily over you, his head resting on your shoulder as he struggled to keep himself up. You were breathing heavily as well, your nipples brushed against his chest. You were sensitive. You hissed.

“You can lay down,” the words had barely left your lips before he had let his weight settle on top of you. A smile crossed your face as his hands tangled in your hair and stroked it lightly. You wrapped him up in a hug, wanting him to stay like this for a while. It was nice to feel him so close.

After a couple of minutes of both of you just recovering and your breathing getting much harder, like a wrestler, you tapped Yoongi twice.

“I’m out,” you joked, “can’t breathe.”

With what looked like a lot of effort, he pushed himself up and off you, pulling out of your suddenly. The cum inside of your vagina gushed out.

You made a face as you felt it drip onto his sheets. Yoongi watched it ooze out of you, not really caring where it was going. He looked mesmerized. He reached out as if to swipe at the cum on your lower lips but you grabbed his wrist before he could.

“We talk now,” you sighed, a bit calmer than before but still a bit worried.

“Now?” He looked so vulnerable again, like he was a scared child. He lay on his side, resting his head on his elbow. He looked down at you, waiting for you to take the reins, the way you always did but this time, you didn’t know where to begin.

Yoongi cleared his throat looking around uncomfortably. When you said nothing, his mind had started to race.

“So… do you… want to be my girlfriend, or are we friends with benefits level right now? Ow!”

You’d smacked his shoulder, not hard at all but he was dramatic and you knew that. He frowned at you, his lips tempting you into another kiss that could lead to something more once again. You were already feeling a little turned on again just looking at the results of his recent gym trips.

“So no to yeo-chin then?”

“Yoongi!”

“Don’t you mean Oppa?”

You smiled up at him, a teasing glint in your gaze, “I didn’t know you had an oppa kink. This whole time, I was right to refuse to call you oppa. I knew you looked way too happy whenever I called you that!”

Yoongi scrunched his nose and looked away, “I don’t! It’s just… when you say it.” He admitted waving a hand as if to bat away your inquisitive and teasing stare.

Not really knowing how to answer that, you chose instead to answer his previous question.

“Nam-chin,” you ran a finger down the center of his pecks, tracing all the light visible muscles that made you want to get off on just riding his chest. Yoongi tensed under your touch. He seemed frozen.

“Did you just call me nam-chin?” You, for once, were not embarrassed. You smiled brightly, happy that the title finally had a head to sit on.

“Is that okay?”

Yoongi pulled you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his heart beat erratically in his chest, singing to yours. To its credit, your heart synced and harmonized almost instantly. He smelled like pure sex and fresh water. He buried your face into his bare skin, listening to his song. After all these years, after all the tiptoeing and fear, you were finally where you belonged.

“Of course it is,” he paused, kissing the top of your head a couple of times, “yeo-chin.” This time, the word made a shiver roll down your spine. Arousal began to pool between your sticky thighs once more and if the third leg on your stomach was anything to go by, he was as well.

“Can- can we take a shower?” you asked him, biting your lips and pushing your chest against his suggestively.

He smirked, his mouth watered at the thought of taking you in the shower. He could almost hear your moans echoing in his wet room as he sat you down and ate you out until the water ran cold. Easy clean up even.

“Yes.” he breathed, connecting his lips to yours. You kissed for a while, your lips meshing together lovingly. Yoongi was a good kisser, you realized. He was a good lay as well. And he was cute to boot. Suddenly, he pulled away and picked you up bridal style and walked you to his restroom. He once again kicked the door open to avoid using his hands and walked you through, but this time instead of throwing you down, he set you on the toilet, him on his knees between your pushed open legs.

“I hope you don’t have any plans,” he said, kissing up your thighs and pulling you close to the edge, “because I have all the time in the world and I’m really, really thirsty.”

He ran two fingers over your abused center, collecting his cum and your new arousal. Sure, there were still a lot of things to talk about between you two. Yoongi still wasn’t sure if you fully understood the depth of his feelings nor was he sure if you simply liked him and the slip of the L-word was nothing more than that. A slip. But like he’d said, he had all the time in the world to ask and all the time to make sure he earned you and your trust. He would do anything he could to prove it and some day he would be.

But for now, he was royally fucked by the sinful sounds that escaped your pretty lips and he wanted nothing more than to just enjoy.

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Masterlist -in case you want to read more....

I hope yall enjoyed it and that this is a good come back after our roast session from permission to dance:)