#but it really did feel like everything split there. there is a version of me that survived & there is a version of me that didnt & i know

[acerathia]

pink camellias || Chapter 7: nasturtium

Chapter Summary:

nasturtium: patriotism, conquest, victory in battle

Wordcount: 5.0k

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Pairing:

Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

Tags/CW:

royalty au, inspired by Mulan, war and its consequences, violence, childhood friends to strangers to companions to lovers (i am sorry), Angst, Acts of Service, Character Death (Major, and Minor), swordfights, misogyny, f!reader, kidnapping, implied torture, let me know if I missed anything lol

Note:

my class started late, so here

A splitting headache was the first thing you felt after waking up, followed by the dry feeling in your mouth, your tongue sticking weirdly between your teeth. You swallowed a couple of times to relieve this feeling. While repeating that action, you began to feel your body and its constitution. It seemed like you were tied to a chair, your arms flat against its arms, no movement possible, and you felt some sort of rope on each wrist and one across your upper body and arms. You assumed your ankles had been bound the same way to the legs of the chair. It didn’t feel like you had a gag or blindfold, and you also didn’t register any new injuries. At least you didn’t think so. Only after this silent check did you dare to slowly open your eyes, cracking one slightly to see if someone was present in the room.

There was someone, but you could barely see their figure without making any noticeable movements. So, your gaze wandered back to yourself, swiftly checking if all your clothes were still in their place. And you almost let a breath out when everything seemed to be fine, beside the weird tingling all over your body, but you assumed it was a side effect of whatever they gave you and the ropes cutting off your bloodstream.

Slowly, you let a finger rub against the arm of the chair, trying to see what material it was made of. Wood. Still, you could not do anything before confirming that the whole chair is actually made of wood. So, you collected yourself, trying to remember what the Captain told you what to do in such situations. And for a moment you were thankful for his training, because if he didn’t pound these plans into their heads for such a prolonged time, you already would have woken up in a fit of curses and screams, scared out of your mind. To be fair, you still were scared out of your mind, but in this version of the story you knew what you were supposed to do, and that didn’t necessarily make you calmer, but at least steadfaster.

With his instructions playing in your mind, you could almost hear the way he had explained every step with a slight annoyance tinting his voice, yet he kept repeating himself despite the so-called stupid questions. You took a breath out of your nose, cinching your brows to frown before groaning softly. Shifting in your seat, you rolled your head so it hung back. Then you made the act of slowly blinking awake, jolting your arm to rub your eyes or face, didn’t matter, really, before shuddering as your jerking grew seemingly more erratic with the second. Your head swiveled around with your eyes wide open, until you finally made eye contact with whoever had been occupying the room with you.

And this time, the shudder and the catch of breath were real as you perceived the colors of his clothes. A dark shade of blue. The color of the other side, of the enemy. You already knew that, but this was your confirmation. Your gaze traveled further, over burn-marred skin, to the hooded eyes of your enemy, of one of your captors. And at first, his eyes seemed to be lazy, all indifference, but the longer you stared into their icy depth, the more the cold ruthlessness seemed to peek through.

You swallowed. “Damn it, let me go! What is this supposed to mean?” you raised your voice, infusing it with the fear you currently were suppressing.

“No can-do, sadly. And I’m not really in the mood to answer questions, if I’m going to be honest, so…” he shrugged and leaned further into the couch, all dangling arms and lethargic movements. But you noticed the precision in every move of his.

For a moment, you bit on your tongue, ruminating on the possible next steps. That was, until you realized that people underestimated you simply for being a woman, so why not using that to your advantage? Luckily, you still remembered how to act as if you’re still in court, and you doubt that these people could see behind that facade as easily as the aristocrats could.

So, you let your face crumble at his words, let your jaw slacken and your gaze take on the thousand-yard stare. And then slowly you sunk your head forward and let your breath sound a little bit irregular. With the last touch of slightly trembling shoulders, you presented him the helpless, scared maiden. The only thing left to do was wait for him to take the bait.

A scoff. “You can stop the charade, there’s no way you would be that close to the battlefield if you were that easily scared.”

All you did was lift your head to face him again, your bottom lip slightly wobbling as the tears collected in your tears. “Bu- But I truly do not know what to do with myself. I was never supposed…” your voice cracked and you sniffed before continuing. “I was never supposed to be there in the first place.”

He rolled his eyes at your words. “Whatever you say, in the end, it doesn’t really matter anyway,” he leaned his head against his hand while watching you with apathy and boredom. “You act like we don’t know anything, huh? Annoying if you ask me.”

He didn’t seem to believe this act, so his friends probably wouldn’t either. With this realization, you just dropped it, a little disappointed sneer on your face as you wiped the tears on your shoulders. All while holding eye contact with him. With a puff of air, you shifted slightly in your seat, looking for a way to sit comfortably.

For a moment you considered asking questions, trying to see if you would be able to get some proper answers or any hints about their plans. But you dismissed that thought, as the earlier instances showed that he wouldn’t talk in any circumstance about anything important. And maybe he didn’t even know a lot to begin with. That was something you couldn’t just expect. So, you had to look at the situation as if it was the worst possible one. That meant that he might just be a guard, without any usable knowledge, and that you had to expect the escape to be near impossible. You had to be prepared for everything. So, it was important for you to take your time with planning. Still, one thing you needed to know, even if you weren’t sure he would tell you in the first place.

“Alright. But do tell, did you manage to actually catch the Captain? I highly doubt that this feat lies within your abilities,” you snickered, hoping that the last statement was enough to rile him up for some kind of response.

A little snort escaped him as he glanced back at you. Yet, he said nothing, and nothing could be read from his facial expressions. You kept staring at him, trying to discern any reaction, anything that could hint at the whereabouts of the Captain. But you found nothing. So, like you had decided earlier, you had to assume the worst. Which would be him being captive in this strange place. Somewhere you could not even think about, much less access in your current state.

A sigh escaped you, and there was nothing you could do at the moment. It was too risky to immediately break out, especially considering you had no idea where you were, or why you were here in the first place. And worst of all, there was nothing you could do. You were bound to a chair, and the only person in this place wouldn’t even think of talking to you. You couldn’t even fall asleep, because you just woke up, and even if you did feel battered, there was a buzzing in your veins, too vibrating to allow you to even relax. So, you did what you could do best, you stared at the ceiling and got a bit lost in your thoughts, with just enough awareness to notice any change in your environment.

*-*

You had no idea how much time had passed until some people finally entered the room you were staying in. Your gaze passed each of them, no recognition hitting you, at least the younger girl seemed to be the one to have drugged you. At least until the last person entered, and you couldn’t hold in the gasp escaping you. You knew him. He was someone you had spent by his side the last months eating and fighting and talking. You both weren’t necessarily close, yet you had thought there was some sort of camaraderie, an almost friendship, or at least some respect across the troupe. Yet, with his appearance he rendered everything you thought to be true as naught. Devastation hit you in the chest at his sight, at his mocking grin towards you, and you felt a grimace pulling at your face, your body not able to properly determine what to feel and how to express it.

“Shit, that’s what you fucking deserve. A stupid woman doesn’t belong in a battlefield. You’re disgusting,” he grinned at you, his gaze traveling over your body, almost ecstatic at the way you had been bound to the chair.

For some reason, his words hit you deeper than you had anticipated. They were echoing what you had been hearing all your life, and it seemed like it would never matter how much effort you put in to change their minds, they would continue to think that way, that you were nothing but a woman, nothing but a nuisance.

Still, you tried to keep some form of dignity, as you straightened your face to the best of your abilities, your teeth biting into the insides of your cheeks. And you avoided looking directly at him, in fear of inciting another reaction out of you. Instead you cocked your head and directed your gaze to one of them, the one who had entered the room at first.

“So, what’s going to happen now?” you asked, swallowing slightly as you felt how your voice trembled at the end.

“Right now, you’re going to talk and tell us everything we want to know,” he answered with a croaking voice, his fingers scratching at his neck.

You raised your eyebrows, trying to delay this interrogation for a bit. “Oh? And why do you think that I know something? And don’t you have your little… lap dog anyway?”

Your breath hitched when you heard him cuss you out, yet he didn’t attack you outright, so he had to know nothing and have no power to his traitorous name.

“He has no idea about anything. But you–” he scoffed, taking a step closer to you, to stand directly in front of you. You barely noticed his hand before he already grabbed your chin, his fingers digging into your cheeks. “You’re closer to the Captain. There must be something you know. And honestly, if you don’t, you do make a compelling hostage.”

A grin spread over his face, his gums peeking, and you couldn’t help but think that he looked somewhat inhuman, terrifying. With a flick of his wrist, he released your face and signaled the others to step closer.

And for some reason, you weren’t terrified of them, afraid yes, your muscles spasming and your breathing painful, yet it was the same as on the battlefield. The only person you were terrified of, truly, was the man who had betrayed the group, the Captain, the country. In your view, he was unpredictable, you shook underneath his gaze, his words still echoing inside your brain. And you didn’t want him to step closer, yet you kept your mouth shut, didn’t allow yourself to reveal any possible weakness.

Oddly, you just hoped for the boss to take care of this, as you pinched your eyes close. In some way you trusted them a lot more. You couldn’t explain why. Maybe, there was some kind of respect in you, as one did after fighting each other for some time. And you sincerely hoped they felt the same in a tiny amount.

*-*

You had lost all sense of time. How long have you stayed in this room, with barely any food to sustain you for long? Despite just waking up, you felt tired, your bones aching and creaking with the small amount of movement you had been able to have. You were pretty sure it hadn’t been that long, but the pain in your body tried to tell you another story, and you had no idea if you passed out from it or simply because your body wanted to simulate a proper night's sleep.

No matter, you were tired, your eyes burning with each heavy blink. Yet, you had enough sense in you to notice how for once there was nobody in this room but you. They had never left you alone since you had arrived, and you started to give up. But now you had a chance to escape. Still, for a moment you contemplated if you should even try, exhaustion making your thoughts sluggier than necessary. You had no idea about your whereabouts, having failed at coercing anything out of the enemy, nothing but their own questions.

You pinched your eyebrows together, bringing the rest of your focus back, and in your mind you could almost hear the Captain yelling at you to ‘fucking focus!’. And for some reason that did it. Your thoughts were coherent enough for you to decide to at least try.

So, you let your gaze wander to the door, and you assumed, no, hoped, that they left it open, under the pretense that there was no way for you to get out of these knots and ropes holding you to the chair. And while that might be true, the ropes burning deep into your flesh, they seemed to have forgotten about the chair. One made out of wood.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly began to tip forward, readying your feet to catch you when the moment comes. And you managed to successfully catch yourself, albeit standing in an awkward squat.

You had to take another breath before moving on, because you knew that the next step was going to hurt. You sincerely hoped to get the right angle, as you had never had the need to execute this maneuver before. Closing your eyes, you jumped up, only to twist slightly back in the air, intending on falling in a way, which makes the chair simply break under your weight and the rudeness of it.

A crack and pain shooting up your hips. For a moment it seemed like it worked, but when you opened your eyes, you felt a gut punch as you realized the chair didn’t splinter to render you free, rather only a part broke.

Another shaky breath as you began to assess the citation, trying to peek behind you to see how the chair looks like. It seemed like only the joint keeping the seat and the back together had broken apart, giving you some flexibility, but not truly freeing you from your shackles. And you could easily free your legs and torso yourself, if only were your hands free.

So, your gaze jumped around the room, trying to look for something that might help you. But there was nothing but the walls, the small space empty and dusty. You hadn’t noticed how tiny your prison was, because of your immobility.

You began staring at the closest wall, trying to think of something. And then there was a possibility, perhaps the only one in your capabilities.

You brought your knees slowly to your chest, as much as the broken chair allowed you to, only to use them to push yourself across the floor, trying your best to inhale as little of the dust as possible. Every push took quite some time, yet the wall didn’t seem to get any closer. With every movement, you began to give up a little more, until your head bumped against a brick, in a way notifying you of your arrival.

Then you took a couple of shuffles to get the right angle. Once you had it, you began to twist your torso with speed, allowing yourself to smash one of the armrests against the wall. With every hit, the joints between it and the rest of the chair began to creak and crack. You had no idea how many times you smashed your arm against the wall, scratches and splinters digging deep into your skin at some point, yet you didn’t stop until the wood separated.

Even if you weren’t able to fully move your freed arm because a big piece of the armrest still clung to it, you now possessed enough range motion to reach over to your other arm and to dig your fingertips into the rope, trying to loosen the knots with brute force, before jamming them into the knots, opening them slowly but fully. Once that arm was truly free of the chair, you used its new freedom to get rid of the ropes around the other arm. You fully ignored the chafing and the pain radiating from it, as you focused on freeing up your torso and your legs, all while silently hoping that nobody entered while you were still opening up the last of the knots.

Breath caught in your throat, and you reached for your boot, for the weapon you had hidden during the confrontation. But all you felt there was your own skin and air. No sheath, no leather, nothing. For a moment you felt yourself choke on your own panic, as you slowly realized how vulnerable you were, have been. And how there was nothing for you to use. You didn’t even remember the last time you had no weapon on your body, every woman needed one, you needed one, right now, for the last weeks, for the rest of your life.

The person finally stepped into the room, and you scrambled back, your back hitting the wall, your hands scratching against the broken wood. And without thoughts or consideration you grabbed one piece, its point sharp from the impact earlier.

You licked your lips as your eyes stared at the point only to slowly shift towards the person standing in the door. And there was something inside of you zinging at the sight of this man, of this traitor, of someone standing above you, looking down on you. Your eyes shook as you slowly stood up, your back sliding over the wall. All while never breaking your gaze off of him. You couldn’t even tell if you were trembling, if you were holding the wooden piece correctly. All you did was stumble in his direction, your legs tingling due to the lack of use lately.

Finally, standing in front of him, but before he could grin, could say anything down to you, could tell on you, you swung the makeshift spear, the use of it akin to the use of a dagger as you let the sharp end dig into the soft flesh at his throat. He croaked surprised, the sounds coming out of him seemingly squashed. Blood trickled down. Soaking into the hem of his shirt, and you couldn’t help yourself but watch it spread.

With a jerk, a quelch you pulled the wood back to you, and now the blood began to bubble out of the wound. But he refused to weaken, still standing on his feet, still looking down on you. You wanted him to stop looking at you, wanted him to stop. So, you grabbed his head, bringing the point closer to it, getting rid of his annoying stare.

And finally, he fell to his knees, onto the ground with his face. His blood slowly tinting your shoes the same it had tainted the rest of your clothes, your skin.

It felt like you could finally breathe properly in this place, at least in this moment. So, you took a moment to enjoy this feeling of acquired freedom, before you grabbed his paling body to drag it into the room. You were aware that due to the blood on the floor, it won’t be long until they finally discover that something is amiss, even considering that they didn’t seem to care much about him. Before you left him to rot, you took away his weapons, and the disappointment choked you for a moment as you realized that he only had a dagger on his body, nothing else. Still, it had to be enough.

Closing the door behind you as you leave, you let your gaze swipe over everything, looking for any clue for the outside, and most importantly, for the Captain. There was nothing your sight picked up, so you decided to lick a rather clean finger and to hold it up, trying to discern if there was any wind blowing from any direction. There was a gentle breeze, one you barely noticed. That direction was the most likely one to be your way to freedom, yet you hesitated. You still didn’t know if the Captain had been captured also, he could be anywhere inside this place, and you were aware that you were purely lucky, there was no way they would even think of leaving him unattended.

You were torn, should you go look for him, or simply walk away to get help? Only, there was no guarantee that you would manage to reach the camp all alone or even be on time to get him help. You hated to admit it, but if he was stuck there, maybe you were his only chance at the moment. He would do the same for you, truly.

With one last glance to the side promising freedom, you slipped to the other side, keeping close to the wall and staying on your toes, dagger and wooden piece always in your hands. You kept peeking into every cell and room you encountered, but there was no one you recognized, all tattered clothes trembling in the corners or laying too silently. As much as you wanted to help, you knew that this lay beyond your capabilities at the moment. So, you continued sneaking around, looking for that still fierce stare of his.

And every time you encountered someone patrolling down the corridors, you waited until they turned their back to you to stab the dagger into their neck. And every time you cursed your lack of abilities in the manner of assassinations and the work of the shadows, as every movement of yours sounded incredibly loud and unnecessary. You couldn’t even get rid of anyone without any noise.

You dumped the bodies in the next best room, taking some weapons if available. At some point you felt like they made too much sound while you were trying to sneak around, so you had to drop some of them into an empty room. But for some reason, despite the amount of available weapons on your person, you didn’t let go of the wooden piece, its splinters digging deep into your skin.

After countless doors and cells, you began to give up. You should just turn around and escape, all by yourself. But you couldn’t, there was something inside your bones telling you to try one more cell, one more dark corner. And you rounded the next corner, only to stop when you spotted two guards in front of one single door. Nowhere else had you seen those stationed like this. There had to be someone important. You decided to look into that particular room, no matter who was inside, they probably needed help. At least, you would have tried to help someone in this ashen place.

Looking at the position of the guards, you doubted you could sneak close enough to them to attack them without retaliation. So, you grabbed one of the longer daggers to give you more reach, before sprinting towards them. They immediately noticed you and pulled their swords. And as much as you wished to hold one too, you were aware that the walls were too close for a proper sword, especially against two opponents. You just hoped they would accidentally start bothering each other with their limited reach.

You focused on the one slightly closer to you, your eyes looking for a weak spot with every step, and even if you didn’t find one immediately, you didn’t slow down. Rather you simply avoided the clumsy swing of the sword, as he tried to strike you down, before you rammed into him with the full force of your speed. He lost his balance, toppling over and you landed on top of him. Without delay, you grabbed the helmet of his and pushed away to plunge the blade into his now freed throat.

The blood flowed and you felt some sprinkle over your face. Wiping it away, you almost missed the movement behind you, as the other person swung their own blade towards you. You barely had any time to react as you tried to roll away, but the blade still grazed your thigh. A sharp pain burst in your flesh there, more than a simple graze warranted. It almost distracted you from the next upcoming attack and you had no other possibility but to hold your own, much smaller blade against theirs. Gravity supported them, as they tried to drive the sword into you.

As the sharp edge inched closer to your body, you jammed your foot into their lower body, trying to get them to lose their balance in any way as you continued to kick up. The blade was at such a small distance, your own blade started digging into your skin. It was over, your strength wasn’t enough to win this.

But before you could even think of letting go, a loud noise clattered from the closed door, startling you both, but that surprise was exactly what you needed, as their muscles loosened the tiniest bit. You grabbed another weapon from your clothes and stabbed its blade into their wrist holding the sword, hoping to have slashed some tendons. The reaction was immediate as he let go of the blade, letting it fall. You on the other hand didn’t react fast enough, and it grazed your ear and shoulder, feeling the blood slowly pooling underneath your head.

They were holding their wrist close to their chest, and you took the chance, grabbed their own sword to drive it into their chest cavity. Their blood splattered all over you before they fell onto the ground, twitching and huffing.

For a moment you allowed yourself to take a breather, laying between the two corpses as their blood soaked your clothes, sending shivers down your back.

A second crash and you flinched as you looked towards the door. Instead of saying something, you sat up, feeling the pain radiating from your thigh, and you knew that the injury there had opened up again. A sigh escaped you, and you ripped the seam of your tattered shirt to bind it over the wound once again. You hoped you could withstand the pain long enough, because it didn’t feel as bad as it did at first when you got stabbed there.

Another crash sounded and you slowly got annoyed by whoever was doing that.

“Okay, okay, Calm down.”

And it was silent after you said this, but you weren’t sure if they actually listened to you. Nonetheless you stood up and walked up to the door. On the way you pulled out a dagger before kneeling in front of the lock. You had no idea how to break a lock, but you assumed that if you jammed the tip of the blade with strong enough force it would break it.

You began to jam the blade into the sides of the lock, trying to get a reaction out of it. After some time, without any crashes from the inside to distract you, you finally heard some sort of clicking noise. Still, you didn’t dare take away the blade until you pushed the door open.

You didn’t know how to react to the insides of the cell. And for a moment the only thing moving was the piece of wood hitting the floor. There was joy pumping your heart, but also some embarrassment when you realized how bad you had to look. The Captain only frowned at your sight, before taking over as he walked past you.

“Looks like your head was hit,” he grumbled as he pointed towards the keys on the belt of one of the guards.

You felt hot, shame making it difficult to explain yourself. But before you could even try to reiterate, you felt a finger tipping your chin up, and you met his hot gaze, filled with fury. His finger traveled over your cheek to your cut ear. “I hope you paid this filth back a thousandfold…”

Something told you that if these two guards were alive, he would have shown them something worse than death. But you didn’t mind this, you just enjoyed the way your heart finally seemed to settle once you found him.

He let his hand fall away, some of your blood on his fingertips, and stepped away. You handed him some of the weapons you had collected before starting to tell him what way to go. But instead of letting you finish speaking he told you to take the lead. He obviously didn’t want to waste time, but you were glad to be trusted like that.

So, you walked down the same corridors you came from, they were still empty as you left them. Until you stopped in front of the room you had occupied. A glance in his direction told you to just continue walking. You did. This time, it took you both longer to find your way out, nothing indicating any sort of possible escape, especially the lack of guards. The halls were empty. And you had to admit that it worried you to not meet any resistance at all.

After some time, you finally stumbled across the exit, and you opened the door, ready for the onslaught of enemies. But what was across the threshold was more than you had anticipated.

[voidimp]

i Ɛ> feeling reality split

[milo-is-rambling]

Who was gonna tell me that reading is fun sometimes

[toriangeli]

Weirdly as an Armand stan, I feel like Armand should have been...worse.

Maybe worse/better isn't putting it right.

He should have been scarier.

The Armand I think of as the "real" Armand is the one we got in 2.05. So I know they know he's like that. It isn't exactly that he's evil, but when he hurts, when he's frightened, when he's cornered, he becomes something wild and vicious. Even when he's calm, there's a cold ruthlessness to him when dealing with people he doesn't care about.

So what the fuck is up with this wishy-washy betrayal?

The narrative as displayed on the show:

-Armand realizes he and Louis don't share values, so they need to break up. -The coven confronts Armand with the trial script and give him an ultimatum (disputed in fandom, never contradicted on the show). -Armand chooses loyalty to the coven and directs the play, bowing to their wishes. There are people who overestimate the role of a director and assume this means he engineered the entire thing, but see the problems in the next section below. -The tribunal is going to kill both Claudia and Louis. -The tribunal just kills Claudia. Lestat saves Louis. -Armand is demoted and punished (confirmed by Assad). -Armand, perhaps because of guilt, rescues Louis from the wall and urges him to leave Paris. -Armand makes the split-second decision to lie about saving Louis at the trial. This ends up saving his life. He lets Louis kill everyone in the coven (presumably because he's gotten a good look at how fickle they are toward him). -Louis chooses to continue their romance to spite Lestat, who keeps Armand's secret. -Daniel exposes the fact that Armand was free to choose Louis the entire time, that he was never in danger, and he chose the coven instead.

Things that have been said by Assad that contradict this version of events:

-Claudia "had to go" because she was in the way of what Armand wanted. Thing is, Armand wanted Louis, and he was going to let Louis die, so this makes no sense. -Armand "engineered" the "deaths" of Claudia and Louis both. No motive is presented to us. Moreover, there's genuinely nothing in the show that suggests this as opposed to Armand being strong-armed by a coven he lost control over. That version of events is never contradicted in the show.

And here's the thing: if I had my way, Armand would be the force behind it all, because having him fold to his own coven makes him the very opposite of scary. He'd never do it in the books. FFS, in the books, he slaughtered more than half of his last coven in a fit of madness (and I am convinced it's one of the things he blatantly lied about in 2.03). But to see what's actually presented on the show and to hear Rolin talk, they were deeply concerned with him remaining as empathetic as possible, so it looks to me like they did that by simply making him (/plays guitar) ANEMIC ROYALTYYYYY instead of a wild little gremlin. Instead of being empathetic, he's just pathetic. Instead of making the connection between Armand's history and his present behavior, the average viewer says, "That's just how he is. He lies about everything. Who knows why. He doesn't need a reason."

I can't help but feel this season should have ended with the average viewer saying "Oh he's crazy crazy." Which they kind of said of 2.05, but by the time 2.08 rolls around, they've sort of forgotten that side of him (which isn't a side, really, it's what lies beneath the mask).

And I mean, Armand in the books is definitely prone to bouts of self-pity. That's how people react when their trauma goes unvalidated. It's not playing the victim, either, he really does feel that way.

Maybe they're counting on next season to give context to both Lestat and Armand? It would make sense for Lestat to be the one to give real perspective on Armand, because Louis doesn't really know him and Armand himself is too guarded to be forthcoming. Lestat has seen Armand at his worst, but, at least in the books, he has a crippling amount of compassion for him as well.

I just...I need the gremlin. I need him to be terrifying, because only then can he turn around and be weird. He's endearing in DM because people looked at the "uncomprehending villain" of the last two books and saw him stuffing packs of cigarettes down the garbage disposal, laughing till he cried at movies, and quizzing Daniel about why war happens because he's never understood all that shit. That last was the moment I fell for him. He understands the vampiric instinct to kill, but humans don't have that. Humans just kill and maim each other anyway. The vampire who caused so much destruction asking, "What is the physical need to destroy?"

The innocence hidden beneath the cruelty and violence.

The writers know that innocence exists, but the innocence means very little if he isn't legitimately cruel and violent. If he doesn't make hard choices in the name of survival when the issue at hand isn't a matter of survival. If people don't suffer because he thinks suffering is what everyone does all the time anyway.

They know the cruelty exists, because they showed it in 2.05. They know exactly how to write an Armand who isn't pretending to be normal.

I just worry they've undermined what makes Armand so special as a character in their quest to keep him empathetic.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

This Love Left a Permanent Mark

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria (Whisperers Arc)

Warnings: Pregnancy discussion/issues, suggestive/sexual themes

Summary: Things are starting to feel domestic and you are enjoying every second of it with Daryl. It feels so easy until it isn’t.

A/N: Part three of this little thing I have going and can’t seem to stop. Part one is Help Me Hold Onto You and part two is I’ve Been the Archer, I’ve Been the Prey. There will be one or two more parts. Definitely one at least.

*Click here to be added to taglists.

It was moments like this you could almost forget that the world had essentially ended. The sun on your face. The wind, albeit frigid, in your hair. The crunch of snow beneath your boots. The view from the ridge was breathtaking and you couldn’t help but tilt your face toward the sky and close your eyes, just drinking it all in. Instances of peace had often been taken for granted before the turn. Now, they were everything. 

No sign of the whisperers for a while now. Your people were safe for the time being. The Kingdom had relocated, split between the other three communities. It meant more mouths to feed, more illness to treat, more shelter to build, but it meant more people. The communities would thrive with a little effort and a little time. 

As for you? You had everything. Your baby was growing strong in your belly. Your friends were safe. And your archer? You’d love to say he was hunting for food for Alexandria. But that would be a lie since you knew if you turned around, he’d be sitting somewhere nearby, watching you. He never let you out of his sight when you were outside of the walls. Normally, you’d be annoyed. But Daryl had missed so much time with you, so much of the pregnancy. What he was doing, you found endearing. 

Daryl was doing all he could for your people and you. He split his time between making sure you were doing as Siddiq recommended, spending a lot of time inside the walls. He helped with construction, mostly, but did just about anything that was asked of him so he could remain close to you. 

When Michonne or Carol could be with you, he would go hunting or on runs. But now that you were in the final weeks of pregnancy, he was a constant shadow. He had asked you to stay home today but he knew better. You had already ‘nested’ and finished the baby’s room— meaning he finished it while you sat in the rocking chair and gave instructions. Now you needed air. You’d be within the walls for a while after the baby came, so you took any opportunity to roam while you still could. 

“You’re not sneaky.” You smiled, keeping your eyes straight ahead as you waded through the snow to the treeline. You saw him step out from the corner of your eye. 

“Wasn’ tryin’ ta be.” He fell in step with you easily, considering you waddled more than walked these days. “Ya feelin’ okay?”

“I wouldn’t be out here if I didn’t, Daryl.” You weaved your arm through his. “I didn’t go far, like I promised.”

“N’ I kep’ a eye on ya, like I promised.” He countered, earning your elbow to his ribs. “Ya gotta stop in ta see Siddiq on the way home.”

“I know. Are you coming with me?” You already knew the answer but hearing him say it always made your heart flutter. 

“Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

That night found you and Daryl sitting in front of the fire, Dog sprawled out under your propped up feet. The archer cleaned his bolts, glancing over at you every few moments. He failed to hide the curl of his lip. There was a jar of peanut butter on one side of your rounded belly, a jar of pickles on the other, and a small bottle of hot sauce sitting between your breasts. You were happily crunching away at your favorite snack when you caught his eye. 

“You really should try it before you knock it, sir.” You swirled a pickle in the peanut butter and shook a little hot sauce over it before holding it out to him. Daryl reared back as if it was threatening to bite him. 

“Nah. S’okay. Had a big supper.”

You tilted your head and chuckled. “I made your dinner, Daryl. I know what you ate and it wasn’t that much.” You waved the snack back and forth. “Come on, just one bite. Your baby loves it! They’re kicking up a storm.”

That had his attention. 

“Righ’ now?” He asked, his eyes lighting up while the rest of his expression remained stoic. 

“Yep. And if you take one bite, I’ll give you unrestricted belly access.” He had that anyway, and he knew it. But after the rocky patch the two of you had gone through, the man would walk barefoot over a bed of hot coals to see you smile. 

“Fine.” He drawled, placing his bolts on the table. He rounded it and came to sit by your hip, moving the peanut butter out of the way. When you brought the pickle close to his mouth, he moved his head back, earning a raised brow from you. “M’gonna do it. Just… preparing muhself.” It took another 3 minutes before he finally opened his mouth.

You quickly shoved the pickle spear in, nearly gagging him. “Now you know how that feels.”  He took hold of the end and bit it half, handing the other half back to you with a sarcastic sneer. You thought he’d make a comeback of some sort but then he started chewing and you watched his face morph into something desperate. Was he turning green? “Okay, okay! Spit it out!” You laughed and tried to get up to aid him, but your stomach wouldn’t allow for it. Daryl was already dashing toward the downstairs bathroom anyway. 

You could hear him spit and then the tap started, he gargled, and the cycle went on three more times. All the while, you smothered your laughter behind your palm. “I’m sorry, Daryl!” He emerged with his tongue still out, looking as if he may scrape it with his nails. 

“How can ya stand tha’?” 

“It’s so yummy!” You placed the lids on everything and he took them to the kitchen. When he came back, he stopped short and leaned against the doorframe, watching you try and fail to get up from your spot on the couch. “Okay, little bean, I think it’s almost time to serve up an eviction notice!”

“Lil’ bean, huh?” He smirked when you gave him a pleading look and did a grabby hand motion. 

“Help, I’m a whale and I can’t get up.”

“Y’ain’t no whale.” Daryl took your hands and helped you stand, looking over you with the fondest smile while you continued to list off the things pregnancy had done to your body. “Tha’s enough’a that.” With a large hand now splayed across your belly, he bent to press his lips to your neck, smiling when goosebumps rose under his attention. 

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Daryl.”

“Don’ worry, sunshine. M’gonna make sure ya finish.”

You still couldn’t believe Daryl had asked Siddiq if sex was safe at this point in the pregnancy. When the medic had told him that it was actually encouraged, well… you didn’t get much sleep last night. 

You woke up sore, a dull throb between your legs and a periodic ache in your lower back. Daryl would only give you that sly grin when you’d pout at him. That is, until you asked to go hunting with him. 

“Nah.” He shook his head and looked back down to the bag he was packing. 

“Come on! It’s only a few miles out. We won’t go further than that.”

“No. Yer gon’ stay here and Carol’s gon’ come check on ya.” The archer accepted some bread and cheese in a container, noticing there was enough for both of you but not commenting on it. “I’ll take a radio. Anything happens, I can be back in less than a hour.”

“We can both take radios and make sure Carol has one. If anything happens, which it won’t, we won’t be far enough out for a problem.” You handed him two canteens of water. 

“No.” When he grabbed the straps to shoulder the pack, you placed your smaller hands over his. Daryl sighed and met your gaze. 

“Please, Daryl. My hormones are going nuts and I feel like I’m going to lose my mind if you are away from me right now.” An image of Daryl leaned flush against your back, thrusting into you from behind in slow, languid movement flashed behind your eyes and you almost moaned. You weren’t lying. You needed to be near him today. With an exaggerated sigh, you dropped your hands to your belly. “If you let me go with you today, I promise I won’t leave these walls again until the baby is at least 6 weeks old and I’m all healed up and given the okay from Siddiq.” 

Daryl froze, his eyes narrowed. “Ya promise that?”

“Yes.” 

It was obvious that he was really thinking about it, those pretty blue eyes flicking from your face to your stomach and back. 

“Fine.” The bowman rolled his eyes at your adorable little victory dance but smiled just the same. “But ya pack ev’rything ya might need in my bag. Ya don’ carry nothin’ but yer weapons n’ a radio. Ya stay righ’ with me, no wanderin’ off.” You were nodding enthusiastically, waiting for him to finish so you could get ready. With another roll of his eyes, he waved you off. “G’on.” 

And you were off in a rushed waddle so adorable that he couldn’t help but chuckle. 

You took a deep breath of the fresh air, spreading your arms as you walked just behind Daryl. He kept his pace slow so that you could keep up. You intended to do everything he had asked of you. Neither of you needed any more stress with the impending birth just around the corner. You just wanted to enjoy this day with him and then you would keep your promise and stay home. 

Dog stayed right at your side, whining quietly and sticking his nose into your palm. “You want pets?” You obliged with a skritch behind his ear. “You should be helping daddy hunt, lazy bones.”

“Ain’t his daddy.” Daryl huffed, stopping to look over the ground for tracks. 

“Are so. And I’m his mama.” You stated matter-of-factly, shooing the canine toward Daryl. He seemed reluctant but followed the command. With a moment to rest, you pressed your hands into the small of your back and shuffled over to a log to sit down heavily. “You did a number on my back last night, Mr. Dixon.” The smug expression he wore did not go unseen. “Maybe you can do it again. Soon.”

When he looked at you questioningly, he found you eyeing him with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. “Ya mean now?”

You nodded. “I mean right now.”

“Ain’t fuckin’ ya in the snow. Yer pregnant.”

“Never said in the snow.” You jerked your chin toward the right, over his shoulder, where a little cabin sat seemingly abandoned. “We’ve been on this trail a million times. No one lives there.”

Daryl drummed his fingers on his thigh for a moment while scrutinizing the small structure. Once he stood and started walking toward you, you pouted. The look on his face said you weren’t getting what you wanted. The archer kneeled in front of you, cupping your face with a gloved hand. His bare thumb rubbed across your jutted-out bottom lip. 

“When I getcha home, I’ll fuck ya til ya can’ walk but s’not safe to do it like this.” His hand lowered to rub the side of your belly. “Not like this.” 

His soft voice. The way he was looking at you. The way he loved and protected your baby before they were even born. You nodded, smiling at him with tears in your eyes. The desire that had been building was gone and now you just wanted him to hold you. “At least kiss me?” 

“Never hafta ask fer that.” He stood but remained bent at the waist so you didn't have to adjust at all. He wouldn’t risk you being uncomfortable. You sighed against his mouth, parting your lips for his tongue to dip in and taste you. Too soon, he pulled away, pressing one more kiss to your mouth and then your forehead. When he straightened, he offered you a hand, knowing you’d never get off that log by yourself. 

With a chuckle, you accepted. Back on your feet, the two of you continued on the trail. 

An hour passed. You were at the end of the area he’d chosen to hunt in today, not wanting to go more than a few miles away from Alexandria. You had chatted and laughed and he’d look around an area while you stopped for a rest. It was a great day. Except for the periodic, nagging back pain that continued to worsen. Now when it happened, it felt like the muscles in your abdomen were seizing up. 

“We can circle ‘round. See wha’ we find over there before headin’ back.” Daryl wasn’t looking at you while he spoke but he did when you didn’t answer, finding you leaned against a tree with your head tilted and a perplexed expression on your face. “Y’alrigh’?”

“Huh?” You quickly looked up, finding him and Dog watching you. “Oh! Yeah. I’m good. Just needed a minute.” You straightened slowly and when nothing happened, you smiled. “Ready!”

You kept up pretty well considering the worsening pain. When it began to force you to stop and breathe, you knew it was time to say something. But before you could even open your mouth, you felt a pressure you didn’t know was there just release and your pants were suddenly drenched. Oh shit. 

“Um…Daryl.”

“Yeah?” He didn’t look up from the tracks he was studying, but did shoot a sidelong glance at Dog when the canine began to whine in earnest. “The hell’s wrong with you?” Dog laid down but continued to whine. 

“Daryl, don’t panic.”

He instantly felt panic, a vibrating anxiety in his chest before he even turned around. You were standing with your hands on each side of your belly, your light maternity jeans soaked. Now, logic told him that there were two things that could have happened. Before he could say anything, you doubled forward with a pained expression, breathing hard through your nose. “Fuck.”

“I think…we need the radio now.”

After radioing ahead, Daryl hoisted you up and carried you through the woods toward home. What Siddiq was certain were contractions were now steadily becoming more painful in your abdomen while the pain in your back dulled. 

“Daryl.” You whined, unable to do anything else. 

“I know. S’gon be okay. I gotcha.” 

You breathed through each episode like Carol had taught you. It didn’t alleviate the pain but it did help you focus. And when something changed, you knew it. 

“Daryl.”

“Yeah?”

“Where’s that cabin?”

“‘Bout a quarter mile ahead. Why?”

“Go there.”

His steps slowed enough to be able to look at you while you breathed through another contraction. He was terrified to ask but he knew he had to…

“Why?”

You took one more deep breath and looked at him with more fear in your eyes than he’d ever seen before. 

“This baby is coming now.”

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.58)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Your nightmares are a troubling development but the pack won't let you drown. They have different ideas on how to help you. Some more damaging than others.

Tags: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Fluff, Cuddling, scent marking, Nightmares, graphic depiction of fake character death, Discussions of past rape, No explicit depictions of past rape/sexual assault, past domestic-abuse, flashbacks, safe-wording during sex (Sorta), unpleasant sexual encounters, under-negotiated kink, mentioned sex toys, crying during sex, Sad blow jobs, small dick jungkook, allusions to past eating disorders, anxiety, implied self-hate, self-esteem issues, non-verbal main character.

W/c: 12.9k

A/N: this chapter was originally supposed to be a lot longer- but i got too in depth with it and had to split it up. This is easily one of the more heavy chapters of bily (and that's saying something), so please be mindful of the tags! For anyone wanting to skip the super triggering parts in the next chapter i've highlighted a sentence in red font both after the first triggering section and before the very triggering ending.

Special thanks to @imperiussexrex for helping me with jk's part <3 they're the bestest <3

Previous Chapter- Masterlist

"Sleep well, my lovely little spy."

Jin’s eyes flutter open, looking up at the beta who's watching him with a gentle but noticeably tense smile. Jin’s mouth is dry, he could pretend he didn’t hear anything but there would be no use. The truth wouldn’t change.

"Holy shit.” Jin’s whole body is ridged. Ready to run. In panic mode. But Yoongi’s hand settles on his shoulder. It’s the same touch as always and just as gentle and kind as it was both this mourning and 6 years ago. Yoongi has always been a kind soul, regardless of every secret Jin's ever learned to love about him.

Letting himself be known in return feels a little bit more perilous. Jin’s heart thuds against his fingertips. He swallows hard.

Yoongi hums, agreeing with Jin’s assessment. He runs a hand gently through Jin’s hair. Tugging away loose a knot. “Holy shit indeed.”

Everything is fine. In the wake of the dead body, everything in the pack is absolutely fine.

(That’s a lie, everything is definitely not fine, everything is in fact- falling apart. Like a butterfly larva worming its way to crystalize. Carving its way towards both womb and tomb. Something that changes you or destroys you.)

Jin and Yoongi can only hope.

It’s only hope after all. How much damage can it really do?

~-~

Your unraveling starts with the Nightmares.

Tonight, it’s a dark tangle of half-forgotten moments. A movie with all of the scariest scenes copied and pasted. Bright punctures of feelings like blood dripping down your chin and the tang of it in your mouth. Geumjae’s scent in your nose as he shoves your mouth against his skin. All of it. Every unhappy memory that your psyche has locked away for later drags you down like the tide would drag a stone to a watery grave.

Until the moments condense like a figure rising through fog and you’re sitting in that house again. The one with the yellow brocade curtains pulled closed across the windows so that no one sees what happens inside.

You're sitting with Geumjae at the dining room table. The elaborate meal in front of you rises with steam and smells divine calling you like a moth to honey. The cutlery is polished so clean that you can see your reflection in it. A million dancing tiny versions of you stare back with vacant doll-like eyes.

You remember this meal; you remember what happened to you on this morning. The soreness between your legs reminds you of that horror. You remember how hard you worked after he left in the morning after leaving you in a bloody heap on the bathroom floor. You remember hoping that if you did everything you absolutely could to prepare this meal, He’d be satisfied and he wouldn’t hurt you again.

But avoiding rape is never quite so easy.

It was foolish to hope back then. Geumjae was a man of routine and he required your body every morning and evening without fail. But hoping is so hard to avoid, like an itch under your skin that demands biting nails, a furious sort of wanting. Hope is nothing more than a chain that drags you through the sludge when you think it might be your buoy.

In this nightmare, the other chairs at the table aren’t empty like they usually are. It’s not just you here.

He must have taken a needle and stitched your mouth shut (like he always threatened) because you feel powerless to scream at Namjoon to get away to stay back. You can do nothing more than watch as he leans over and says something to Geumjae that makes him smile. His smile makes him look like Yoongi; who sits at the head of the table and nurses a glass of wine while scowling.

Jin is on Namjoon's other side, hair combed back from his face in a way that makes Seokjin look absurdly pretty. The picture of delicate omega composure. Each of them eats like they haven't in days, shoveling food into their mouths like it’s their last meal.

Jungkook is by your side and asks if you’re going to eat your dinner roll. Puffy and crusty bread that he never would be able to eat in real life. You watch powerlessly as he scarfs it down like he hasn’t ever eaten anything more delicious. Licking his fingers from the crumbs when he finishes.

Tae is dressed in your jewels this time, not Jimin's. The necklace Geumjae gave you for your second anniversary digs into her collar bones as if it was pinned there. Like a butterfly on a piece of cardboard. Glittering with more diamonds than seem possible. Like one of those Instagram filters, every reflection mark turned glittery. Jimin’s suit is like something out of vogue.

One moment you’re looking at the perfectly edible food and the next you’re watching it rot before your very eyes. The meat greying and melting. The salad wilts gooey and spoiled. The fancy porcelain plates writhing with worms and maggots and creepy crawlies that slither out of nowhere. A spider inches its way up your fork.

No one notices. No one realizes that the bites they bring to their lips are poison. Jin licks his lips, the skin already greying and cracking.

Geumjae looks up at you from his plate, grinning all the while. Collar starched white. You haven’t heard his voice in so long but your mind remembers the exact cadence of it in perfect detail.

“What’s wrong princess? Aren’t you going to eat up?

When you look back at them it's already too late. Namjoon’s slumped in his chair staring blankly forward with bloody eyes. When you look Jin’s got his head half gone. Cut away. Wriggly things curl behind what's left of his eye.

Tae’s collarbones are bleeding where the diamond collar sits. Ribbons drip down her bodice. Jimin’s white shirt is slowly blooming red too. Bullet wounds pepper his chest. One on his shoulder and a cluster of them over his heart.

Jungkook slumps over his plate seizing until he’s still. Still the way that dolls are. Dead. Looking at you with wide vacant eyes that go grey with congealing blood.

Yoongi's hands are burning, fire licking up his clothes and he does nothing to put it out. Burning and bubbling and boiling. Skin peeling up like paint beneath the flames.

Hoseok is the only one not at the table.

Across from you, Geumjae smiles again. Baring his teeth in that animal way of his. “What’s wrong princess? I thought you said you loved them- aren’t you going to try and stop it?”

One moment he’s across the table and the next he’s leaning over you, back in that bedroom that was your hellhole less than a year ago. Pulling you by your hips to the end of the bed when you try to twist away. He fumbles with his belt buckle.

The sheets burn against your skin like its rug burn and although you weakly push at his chest. It feels like you're moving in slow motion. Your strength is nothing compared to his. It never was enough in real life anyway.

“No- no I don’t want- please don’t,” you choke. Trying to get him off of you, when he opens his mouth there are maggots there too.

You never did find out what they did with Geumjae’s body. But now you know as the rotting corpse of your dead husband assaults you. Boney hands grab your wrists as the worms drip out, dangle, and wriggle, falling onto your face and-

One of the terrible things about the big nest upstairs is that it’s really easy to get trapped in the middle with no easy way out.

Hobi finds himself in that position when he wakes. It’s the middle of the night, nearly 3 am probably when he’s roused by the familiar ache in his stomach that tells him he needs to pee.

The shades are pulled across the windows keeping the light out, and what little slips through is kept out by a thin curtain that sections off the nest from the rest of the room. Shielding the familiar lumps of packmates buried beneath the nest slumbering away.

It feels good to have all of you sleeping in one space, the instinctual pleasure flutters and builds on the edge of Hobi’s consciousness as he lifts his head. Barely opening his eyes. It feels homey in the way that Namjoon's rut nest hadn't. It's a true nest, Smelling thick and cakey sweet all of your scents drench it now after a few days of you all sleeping here. After finding the dead body, the decision had been unanimous. No more sleeping separately. No more splitting up between the upstairs nest and the remnants of yours downstairs.

Even though it's a new space some things never change. Jimin still sleeps at the edge near the bottom, guarding the nest from the most logical point of vulnerability. Although that might be because of last week.

The pack has made a few other adjustments in terms of safety since you and Hobi found the dead body. Many a moment has hobi walked into a room with Jin and Yoongi only to have them fall silent. But he doesn't have to ask what new precautions they've agreed upon.

They’ve fallen back into the habit of letting each other know when they get to work safely and when they leave, and when to expect them home (the same habit they had just after yoongi left actually) Phone locations are perpetually turned on just in case. But Hobi knows the only time any of them feel truly settled is when they’re all up here.

The nest is big. Big enough for all of you to sleep comfortably, even all sprawled out. But as thoughtful as Yoongi was when he constructed the space he certainly did not think about how hard it would be to leave for a midnight bathroom break given the walls that close in on three sides.

Now, Hobi is trapped and bound by blankets and fancy pillows and the gently sleeping bodies of his pack all around him. The border is high and fluffed. It’s in an alpha's nature to be careful around his packmates and it goes against something very basic in Hobi to even think about disturbing the carefully placed pillows and blankets, the general purposeful disarray of such a cozy nest. Alphas simply don’t fuck with omega nests.

But on the other hand, he’s seriously stuck.

Namjoon, Jimin, and Jin are at the bottom blocking off the most logical point of egress. Jin’s head rests on Jimin's shoulder, dark hair fanning. Yoongi is tangled up with Tae (her hair in these little puffy rollers). And Jungkook’s star fished and spread out by the top edge, right where Hobi was. His fingers rest under his shirt like he’s been rubbing at his stomach. Snoring softly.

Hobi’s heart swells just looking at them.

The only safe avenue of exit where Hobi won’t be climbing over two people is near the bottom left, close to Jin and Namjoon, where you lie on your side, cheek pillowed. Chest rising up and down a little rapidly in the darkness. It’s so dark that Hobi doesn’t see it at first.

Hobi’s so half-asleep that he doesn’t even realize right away that you’re not as undisturbed as the others. That you occasionally twitch like a puppy.

Hobi is no stranger to maneuvering his lithe body around sleeping packmates, muscles straining as he very gently pulls himself over you. Depressing the mattress by your side. His baggy sleep shirt momentarily brushes your face as he shifts over you.

Your reaction is instinctual, one moment asleep and the next awake. Your scent going sour all at once. Exploding in a rush. You push out with your arms, still in the nightmare.

One second Hobi’s on the bed the next he’s stumbling out of it, Barely keeping himself from falling face-first onto the floor. Bare feet slide on the polished wood when he gets them under him. Cursing out a brief “What the fuck?” looking back, ready to be angry at being shoved.

But then he sees that you're sitting up, trembling so hard that your hands can't grip the blanket to get it off of you. Eyes wide and glassy with panic. You blink and blink, lower lip wobbling.

There is a single moment where he just looks at you, but then you let out a small (and admittedly pathetic) chirp.

There is nothing like a chirp that tugs on an alpha’s hindbrain, that drags Hobi's instincts to the forefront like a hook in a fish's mouth. He's honestly surprised that the sound doesn't wake anyone else. Maybe because it's so quiet, so small.

It’s just a dream, just a very bad dream, and your pack is sleeping softly around you. The next thing you feel is Hobi gently crushing you to his chest. Smelling like caramel and boy. Tenderly whipping back your hair from your face. His warm fingertips press against your tender temples dislodging the last bit of you that can't tell if this is real yet.

“Pup? What’s wrong- what happened?"

Hobi looks about as different from Geumjae as anyone possibly could, his jaw slender where Geumjae was wide, eyes bright where his went dark and hooded. Unthreatening and normal brown in the glow.

But just like the dream, you can’t fucking speak.

“Fuck- it was just a dream, whatever it was- it’s not real- I’m-”

You’re shaking and crying and you can’t respond. Your throat is all tight. All of you that is usually happy and gentle is reduced small and scared and quiet. You can't tell where the shadows end and where reality begins. You can only feel his hands. That's the only thing that feels real beyond the terror.

You can't look around; you can't look around at the others- too scared that they'll be dead.

Thank God for the physical nature of Hobi’s job. Herking bags of soil and 30-gallon trees has honestly done him good because it means he can carry you downstairs with a little effort.

Real panic circles his head like a bunch of buzzards, threatening to pick his heart clean. "Hang on- here we go." He turns on each of the lights one by one by leaning into them. Shoulder hitting the plastic, the two of you safer with each click. "See- there isn't anything to be scared of! There's no one here but us."

Hobi is right, Hobi would never lie to you. This kitchen is not the same one from your nightmares. The blinds are blinds and not curtains, drawn to keep out the streetlights not any prying eyes. The old rickety table where the pack has their meals isn't piled with food at all. Only some tangerines in a wooden bowl in the center.

You’re small and shaky in an extra big shirt of Namjoon’s that pools on your thighs when he places you on gently the countertop with a small 'oof'. You're already a little more lucid, eyes darting from the light to the shadows and still trembling faintly. Hobi knows instantly from the stillness that you’re nonverbal. Mouth uncooperative. Your brain is a mix of misplaced adrenaline and cortisol. You smell terrified.

“It’s okay, it’s just a dream, here-” Hobi fills up a yellow plastic cup with water and tips it against your lips. The cold soothes your throat but not to the point that you can speak. You’re unwilling to detangle yourself from him. Real and warm and there now that you’ve got him. hand tangled in the front of his shirt, clinging to him.

He hums as he dabs a cold dishcloth across on your hot cheeks. “You’re okay- I’ve got you.” You lean into his hands, legs parted so that he can stand between them. You look so sad and so small that Hobi’s heart hurts.

You don’t want to speak, really don’t want to but you force yourself anyways. “Don’t remember them- usually- Or wake up in the middle- sorry- M' sorry.”

Your eyes itch, and your face feels all puffy as he continues to dab at it. The cloth is rough and Cold, but hobi's warm where his skin touches yours.

Alive and safe. you barely want to blink incase you miss it.

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay.” Hobi continues to dab at your cheeks, “You get them often?” You shake your head instead of responding and Hobi’s scent goes thick with upset, burning sugar ever so slightly smokey. You sniffle still sort of crying and Hobi does the only thing he can think of.

Maybe it’s just that he’s half asleep himself, or an expression of his alpha protectiveness. The ringing in his ears says protect packmate, provide for packmate, soothe.

Hobi’s scent gland brushes against yours with an electric zing. Pushing you from shaky to boneless nearly instantaneously. He drags his throat and chin across your left shoulder, and then your right.

it takes real effort for him to keep his palms pressed flat against the kitchen counter while he does it but at least it has the desired effect of banishing the last bit of sogginess from your cakey scent. Your instincts purr alphas here, alphas going to keep you safe, keep the shadows at bay.

Your scent goes sweeter and your half-asleep body goes mailable as you lean into him. Resting your cheek on his shoulder, Hobi huffs a soft laugh. It feels sort of nice, having you close like this. He knows how omega's get, Jungkook goes sleepy puppet soft when he's scent marked this close to sleep too.

Yoongi would want Hobi to do this right? Yoongi would want Hobi to comfort his mate. He’d do it himself if he was awake. Hobi’s just being a good packmate. Right?

The hair on the back of your neck stands on end as he pulls away. Is it just your imagination or is he a little reluctant?

A startled chirp bursts from your lips, and you clamp your hand back over your mouth. but hobi's laugh echoes loud off the high ceilings, "It's alright pup." You try to speak again but Hobi shushes you, there’s no need for you to push yourself. Not with him. Not right now.

The slant of the light across Hoseok’s face isn’t right. Too grey and yellow from the light in the hall. It’s too late for it to be morning yet and too dark for you to quiet your heartbeat. Hobi can feel it, jackrabbit fast against his throat.

If he's here, that means the nightmare really was only that. A nightmare. Hobi wouldn't be wrapped around you if the rest of the pack were dead. You don't need to go back upstairs and double-check.

Now if you could only stop crying.

“Here,” Hobi starts to pull away and you make a panicked sound, fingers tangling in his shirt. “I’m not going anywhere, let me just get my bag-” You shake while he’s gone, sitting on the countertop, stumbling when you get off of it, knees weak. Holding the edge until he comes and gets you with an arm under your shoulders, transferring you effortlessly to the couch.

When did Hobi get so good at this? You’d be inclined to think this was just another dream (one of those shameful ones that you don’t even mention to Yoongi) but you’re not sure you could have dreamed this up.

“Lights off or on?” You shiver so he goes one by one turning on the overhead lights and then the lamps, the ones under the cabinets in the kitchen too. There’s not a hint of shadow here, no monster that he couldn’t guard you from.

You can still see the light behind your eyes when you close them. Blinking slowly like a cat would. Hobi has his headphones in his hand, not his usual earbuds but the dilapidated black over-the-ear headphones with peeling stickers on the sides that have been his almost as long as Yoongi has (they might have been stolen from the record store- back when Yoongi's rebellious streak ran a little wider).

The second they go around your ears the world dampens and your heartbeat slows.

“I’ve got you.” Hobi mouths, reaching to pull your head to lie against his shoulder, the blue light flicker of his phone screen hurts your eyes as he scrolls through some songs and puts one on. It’s slow and soft, mostly instrumental except for faint vocals. You can’t hear what Hobi says but he pulls you to rest against his side. Settling.

He doesn’t make you talk about the nightmare. Doesn’t make you talk at all. You melt, pressing your face into his shoulder as hard as you can, your shaking relaxing with every word. Every soft hum. It’s working, your trembling is only skin-deep now. In a few minutes, you won't be shaking at all.

“Go to bed,” he asks, even though you can't hear him. Pillowed against him. The songs shift quietly. Your hand somehow gets under Hobi’s shirt and presses against the skin of his hip. Holding it softly so that he doesn’t go anywhere, it feels like a bit of a thank you.

You cling to him and he lets you. You probably can’t hear him but he still repeats, “I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you.

~-~

Yoongi’s never shot up faster in his life, leaving part of himself in the dream. He can feel the panic down the bond as he stumbles. The nest is too empty. Yoongi’s sleep-sluggish brain counts the number of bodies and he goes cold when he counts five and not seven. Pure shuddering terror bleeding down his back like he's just been doused with cold water.

Where are you? Where is Hobi? There is something wrong- something seriously wrong. Yoongi can feel it on the back of his tongue, the taste of your despair acidic. Once a familiar feeling, now lashing him like lightning.

Communicating directly through the mating mark isn’t something that happens often anymore for the two of you. It did when the bond was fresher, but now that it’s settled the connection has dulled. In the way that clothes go worn and comfortable. It’s not usually a stabbing pain like this. Such a visceral feeling that it wakes Yoongi up from it.

Yoongi stumbles to the door following your scent like a man possessed. The way it shifts from the nest. Panicked to not alone. Hobi’s panic too saturates the air. Yours is rainy wet and Hobi’s is burnt and over-sweet, faintly medicinal.

There are sounds on the stairs. Footsteps rouse Hobi just as he’s finally fallen asleep. His neck aches from how he’s been leaned back against the couch And he winces as it cracks.

“Hobi?” Yoongi calls cautiously. At his waist, your fingers tangle loosely in his shirt holding onto him like he’s a lighthouse in a storm, clinging to him even as you sleep. Hobi realizes he’s got a bit of your hair stuck to his lips. Spitting it out.

“Over here.“ Hobi’s jaw pops when he yawns. Yoongi stumbles to you because he can’t stay away when you’re like this. When you need him. You don’t rouse when Yoongi touches you, cupping your cheeks. Eyes feasting on the crusty salt around your eyes, the faint silvery shimmer of dried tear tracks across your cheeks.

“She had a nightmare- couldn’t sleep with the lights off so- thank god you're here I have to pee like so fucking bad-” Hobi says quietly.

Yoongi definitely does not eye the way that your hand stays loosely knotted in the front of his shirt, or note verbally the way that you smell like him. Drenched in hobi's scent and clinging to him.

“Daisy,” Yoongi says, sounding a bit surprised and alot in love, tucking his Hobi’s hair behind his ear. Standing over the two of you looking a little shaken. Yoongi is an expert at moving you softly detangling your hand from Hobi's shirt without waking you and freeing Hobi from his self-imposed prison.

He's still shaken when Hobi comes back from the bathroom. Hobi can’t blame him. You don’t really have the best track record when it comes to disappearing together. First the car crash last month, and now the dead body. It’s understandable why Yoongi’s panicked a bit.

But now he just looks at Hobi. Eyes scanning his face, a small smile beveling the edge of his lips.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Hobi says. The faint murmur of music is barely there, you're still asleep with his headphones on. Hobi had panic made a playlist on his phone after you’d fallen asleep. Putting only the most gentle instrumentals on it.

So what if he’d saved it with a cat emoji and a purple heart? Yoongi can’t possibly know that just by looking at him.

Yoongi doesn’t respond and Hobi tucks his chin, looking down at you, sleeping soundly still. The nightmare must have really tired you out because you're out like a light. His voice goes softer, like the emotion in his throat is constraining his vocal cords.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her panic? That wouldn’t have been kind.”

Yoongi's hand falls onto Hobi's head, rubbing through his hair. the touch feels like a reward. Hobi's not sure what for. “No- it wouldn’t have been Daisy.”

“Like it when you call me that,” Hobi says. Eyelashes flutter as yoongi scratched at the nape of his neck, head bowed. and he can hear the laugh in Yoongi’s voice. Hobi’s not really awake either.

“You don’t have to worry,” Hobi says “I’m not gonna like- freak out and run away if she needs something, like the first time.”

Hobi feels embarrassed about that when he thinks about it. Embarrassed and a little bit fond of the memory every time he sees the train ticket still in his wallet. The top edge is so chewed up that you can hardly tell it’s a ticket anymore.

“Sure,” Yoongi says and Hobi knows he hasn't fooled anyone, least of all your mate. hobi stands up properly, and when his hand falls, yoongi just tugs at his wrist, the callouses on his hands comfortably rough against hobi's skin. “Come on.”

You wake bleary for a handful of seconds when Yoongi puppets you, moving to sprawl out while Hobi discards the back cushions. Yoongi slips Hobi’s headphones off your ears and puts them safely to the side. wordless and publish while yoongi gets one of the blankets to tug it over your form.

Yoongi tuts and doesn't let hobi avoid the same predicament. although it's Infinitely more comfortable than his prior half-crunched position. If Yoongi’s being honest, it sort of looked like Hobi was guarding you. body curled over in a protective stance.

Alpha's are so funny.

Hobi ends up face-to-face with you. His flannel pj set un-buttoned to the middle tugged loose from your tugging earlier. the triangle of his bare chest presses against the bare skin of your collarbone as he shuffles away from the edge of the couch. Your own pj set pulled off one shoulder. Yoongi’s sitting up, his thigh warm against the top of Hobi’s head.

You’re running a fever maybe, worming your way closer to Hobi like you need it. Your nose presses into Hobi’s chest, a little cold at the tip and ticklish. Hobi squirms and Yoongi huffs. Overly fond.

“She does that to me in her sleep too sometimes. Means she likes your scent.” Hobi feels warm, and it’s no secret that his scent fluffs up sweeter, as if encouraging you to enjoy it. You re-settle. falling asleep with your nose tucked into Hobi's sternum.

Fuck you’re both so cute, your hair mixing colors on the pillow- sharing the same one because even being that far apart is too much. Hobi falls asleep with Yoongi combing gentle touches down his back. His favorite way to fall asleep- being touched so casually and consistently. You breathe against his skin, cradled to his chest. Sleeping soundly. Finally soothed.

Hobi watches you until sleep takes him.

~-~

Unfortunately, that’s not the last time you’re woken by a nightmare in the coming weeks

Over the next few days, it seems like more often than not Yoongi and Hobi wake to the scent of your terror in the air. Quieting your little sobs with soothing touches in the bathroom. Blankets are brought into the space so that you can curl up in the bathtub, darkness kept at bay by the overhead lights, its lingering shadow curling underneath the doorway trying to drag you down.

They don’t mind, at least they tell you they don’t mind when it eventually comes time to wake in the morning and your words are barely intact. Soft and rough in a way they haven’t been in months.

For you, it feels infuriating. Your non-verbalness might only be a temporary state but that doesn’t mean that overcoming it isn’t tiring. It’s frustrating. Working so hard each day to speak only to have it wrenched away again at night.

Always.

Always you wake up from your nightmares non-verbal. Guided to somewhere light by Hobi so that your fear of the dark won't rouse the rest of the pack. Soothed back to sleep by his music and some scenting. Waking up sometime after sunrise, struggling but better. A routine.

As for the pack…

“It feels like she’s going backward,” you hear Jin confess one morning while he brushes his teeth in the upstairs bathroom. he sounds afraid (he is afraid after waking up to you gone from the nest yet again for the 5th time this week- and it's only thursday). It's obvious Jin doesn't know you're within earshot but the double doors that lead to the bathroom are wide open.

Hobi sends you a fraught look. You’ve just come back upstairs after spending a few hours in the Living Room. You're only able to risk a few more hours of sleep because the sun is turning the sky all grey-blue.

“Do you think-” What he says next is jumbled by the sound of someone turning on the shower, Jungkook or jimin maybe (the upstairs shower is large enough that honestly- all eight of you might be able to fit given you where willing to risk any soap related injuries).

Namjoon’s answering hum is all dark thunder. jin's proposed solution a mystery. “No, I don’t think that would help.”

Sometimes it’s not just Hobi and Yoongi who wake up with you.

Sometimes it’s Jimin. Holding your shoulder with that firm touch looking like he’s about to snap his teeth at any incoming shadows. Sometimes you wake and he’s already sitting at the edge of the bed watching the stairs and the windows. Shirtless, legs splayed with his handgun balanced across his knees.

Or is it just your imagination? Is that just another dream because you certainly don’t see any weapons when he and Hobi pull you from the bed a few seconds later?

They take shifts. Jin and Namjoon blanket you on both sides, soft rumbles soothing you, their quiet banter a welcome melody in your private nest downstairs. Jungkook the next night- who admittedly just wraps his body around you and goes back to sleep so quick it makes you jealous, curled around your spine while you listen to Tae read you a late-night story.

Tae’s delicate murmur does all the character's voices just right. Her lips are both mystery and familiarity. She always seems to crack open the world with the first line.

“Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood.”

They never make you speak; never treat you like they’re too tired even though you know they are. You can see it on their faces, on Hobi’s eyebags getting greyer by the day. Hobi’s the only one who's there every time a nightmare drags you awake. Even Yoongi doesn’t wake up every time.

(Although you confess it's more because you develop a routine. You and Hobi sleep by the side of the nesting nook, where it’s easy to get out without moving around too much. Close enough to each other that he often wakes smelling like you and you always wake smelling like him).

You try to talk with him about it. Guilt makes your heart feel all stuffy. Is it possible to get a heart cold?

“You know, you could just leave your headphones out-"

“No- don’t worry about it, I’ll just make it up later.”

Always. Always Hobi wakes and plops his headphones on your ears. Sometimes he seems awfully lively, grinning and cracking jokes when you burrow into his chest and wipe your tears on his shirt.

“I am like- among the top 10 worst sponges in history you know?”

Sometimes he wakes you from the nightmares before you’ve had the chance to jerk awake. He recognizes the tell-tale stillness, the quick breaths. He never lets you suffer for long. Waking you with a hand on your shoulder. Allowing you to shove him just a little because he knows you're just reacting to your dream and him bleeding together.

"It's just me- you're okay, I've got you."

Sometimes, you wonder if you’re not the only one who can’t sleep lately.

During the day you spend a lot of time in the nesting pod, catching up on sleep while it's still light outside. dreading the afternoons and evenings when the shadows linger like a looming storm. Alone and safe and quiet.

Occasionally you're joined by noodle, purring up against your stomach. Meowing at you until you lift your arm and he can cuddle close. Sometimes you feel like he knows you’re sadder than you say you are. That when the others aren’t there to watch you, you’re stiller, less mobile than normal. You don't even click away at your phone, half the time you forget to charge it anyway.

Hobi would never tell you- but a few afternoons ago he’d come home to Noodle waiting for him on the front step. He’d lead Hobi inside, little kitty face glaring back at him every few steps. Circling his curled form and yowling when he dared to take a second to take his shoes. off. Panicked and nervous, all but biting on his ankles before he led Hobi into the sunroom. His bushy tail held high.

There he’d meowed woefully at your nesting pod where you slept soundly. So loud that Hobi was worried it would wake you. As if he was trying to say “Aren’t you going to do something?”

Hobi had just quieted the cat with a soft shush and picked him up. Closing the door behind both of them. “Let her sleep nu,” he’d gotten nothing but a tearful meow in response. Some squirming, but no claws. “What do you expect me to do? I’m trying my hardest.”

Noodle keeps his secrets. Hobi’s question goes unanswered by the cat- who’d simply squirmed out of his hold and gone to wait by the door to be let back in. Glaring at Hobi’s retreating figure like he’d been betrayed.

Noodle seems to know something that the pack doesn't. He's sat in your lap during dinner and breakfast every single night this week, especially on the days you’ve slept more.

Hobi continues to try his hardest. He brings home flowers from the shop. He says they’re for Jin but puts them by the nesting pod and no one even bothers to tease him. He makes sure that you don’t fall out of the habit of going on late-night drives. Even though you don’t go back to the beach again quite yet. The memories there are too prescient.

Hobi takes you to the winding mountain road again. Drag racing one night with Jimin, because what good is trying to squeeze in a few hours of sleep before sunrise when you’ll just wake anyway? You might as do something fun until you’d wake up normally.

You leave that night a little more wobbly-legged than Hobi will admit to Namjoon when he asks later. "I'm never getting into a car with you again Minnie- what the fuck."

But sometimes the alphas do use the sunroom when you’re there.

It’s kind of nice to hear them on the other edge of your senses. When you’re dozing and Tae and Jimin want to play video games. their shouts of happiness and false outrage better than their screams of terror.

When Hobi and Jungkook want to do some stretching before they take an afternoon run, their giggles push out the memories of cruel words that ring in your ears. Yoga mats all stretched out and noodle perched on the edge of Hobi's multicolored one. Watching you, tail flicking back and forth.

They'll never know how much they help just by being there.

Or when they work on rearranging Hobi’s plants around. Fitting them into different spots like a jigsaw puzzle and moving them from room to room. He doesn’t mean to be indecisive about it, he’s just trying to find the best home for each of them.

They take the big banana tree upstairs to put it in the nesting room because that honestly has really good light and Hobi’s baby can’t be compromised. They move the monstera there too and switch the string of pearls for three big ferns hanging above your nesting nook. Shifting A big fig tree that honestly looks kinda pretty from the entryway to the corner, hanging part of the way over the small sectional.

A leggy orchid that someone bought Namjoon as a “thank you for not letting me go braindead” present is the wimpiest and smallest of the bunch. Hobi's in the process of rehabilitating it. For now, it sits on the window sill growing a single pathetic leaf.

Hobi tries to spend a lot of time nearby when you’re trying to sleep, he always seems to show up when you're having the hardest time ignoring your thoughts.

They're getting tired of you being a goddamn mess every time. Why can't you just get better? It's pathetic, Hobi is fine. Why are making such a big deal over this? But deep down you know it's not just the dead body that caused all of this.

Things are slow at the flower shop in the fall with only the occasional wedding until the Christmas season starts up. Hobi talks to you about it while he waters his plants and trims up some leaves that are dying. He’s definitely not looking forward to making bows for the whole month of December and wrestling with wreaths. He’d much rather talk to you about his ferns. The big stag leaf one that’s in the corner by the tv. And the big fluffy ones that hang above the nesting pod.

“I know they're messy but If I overwinter them we can hang them back on the porch next year, They looked so nice!”

You hum from the pod, turning your cheek to look up at him. he's got his flannel rolled up to his elbows, a shirt underneath that looks homey and warm. Hobi’s scent grows sweet. “They did look really cool this year, kind of like big green soot sprites.”

“We should watch spirited away again.”

“We should.”

You stretch out in the nesting pod while he fiddles with one of the fronds, pulling off the dead leaves with a crumple. You stretch your curled-up legs, toes brushing the ratan sides of the pod.

“If I was a plant where would you put me?”

“Probably where it’s sunniest.”

You can hear his smile on the words, you hum and go back to sleep while he works. Hobi checks your breathing every few minutes, just to make sure you don’t need to be woken up again.

Hobi never talks about the nightmares and never asks what they’re about. Which is something you’re thankful for as the days go on and they get worse and worse. You don’t know how many more nights you can wake up gasping without telling them what you're dreaming about. That it's the idea of them dying that has you so panicked. not to mention the nightly revision of the worst parts of your abuse.

Yoongi doesn't always let you escape without a bit of interrogation. Badgering you until you tell him that he needs to stop.

Jin’s just as bad, constantly hovering. You found your sleep schedule, an estimated hours of sleep you’ve gotten scrawled on the edge of a newspaper in Namjoon's handwriting. He's a little generous with his calculation- You know you haven't slept 13 hours in the last 4 days. You’d crumpled up the page and thrown it in the garbage.

In the morning you find out their motive behind it. Blinking down at your cereal and at the red raspberries bobbing in the milk. You can't help but get defensive about this; because really when you go non-verbal so often about this- what good would talking do?

“Jin, I’m not going to therapy.”

Jin looks a little bit less like his usually put-together form, button-up shirt a little looser than it might have been a few weeks back. Yoongi rubs down his shoulders as he passes. Work has been keeping Jin later and later- anytime someone asks he says something about a problem child at the home for forgotten pups that needs Jin's full attention.

It's so very like him to suggest therapy.

He pulls his fingers through his hair, trying to comb it into something orderly. Abandoning his usual routine of gel and mouse. “I’m not saying you have to go consistently- just once or twice, you went through something-“ he breaks off when Yoongi taps his hip, shaking his head.

You’re twisting your hands over your lap, again and again. But the word lands even though it was unsaid. Whereas before you and Hobi had a smart retort- now- the word feels less hollow, more heavy.

And Jin's not just talking about the body.

Jin doesn’t want to be frank, but you don’t look the best. Maybe it’s because you’d been so steadily getting better that they hardly remembered what sadness looks like on you. But now it looks like this; you sitting at the island counter, looking at your food, too nauseous to eat. Actually worried you're going to vomit if you try.

Any other morning, Jin would sit by you and coach you through it, would sit and wait for you and move you somewhere safe, somewhere softer to prod. He'd chase this worry with gentle touches. maybe he'd give you a gentle settling if you were feeling like you needed to reach that happy hazy head space to eat.

Any other morning Jin wouldn’t leave you.

But this morning, the clock says that Jin has exactly 20 minutes before he has to leave for work or else he’ll be late and miss the debriefing on the latest string of murders and drug-related reports. including a very well worded anonymous tip. it's important that jin's there for that.

It’s not enough time to drag you to some corner of the house and scent you happy. Or better- scruff you down into omegaspace where you’d be mailable and more agreeable under his touch.

Yoongi's eyes say, go I've got this, and Jin has never been more thankful for lovely enemies and a partner in crime.

But Jin simply does not have enough time to love you as he should. If Jin has to choose between making you feel loved and making you more physically safe he'll choose the latter every single time.

Baby steps. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and criminal empires won’t fall that quickly either.

“They’ll go away, I know they’ll go away because they did last time,” you reaffirm, only half believing it. You and Yoongi don’t talk about when you first moved into this house, but the truth is these nightmares aren’t really anything new for either of you.

At least this time they don’t come with you hurling your guts up every night. At least this time your words return in the middle of the day. At least you feel somewhat human right now.

Jin sends a fraught look in Hoseok ’s direction. Clearly requesting backup. He holds his hands up, straw in his mouth and ice coffee in his hand. “I’ll go if she goes.” Is all he says backing away. Clearly not ready to take Jin’s side with this. Late for work himself.

Jin almost misses when you guys were adversarial, rather than banded together as a unified front.

I never expected the pups to unionize

He sends Namjoon in a text a few hours later, After no less than 3 separate meetings that have him feeling more than a little tired himself.

Joonie (1:18): Really? I’d thought you would have been ready, no plans to destabilize the monarchy up your sleeve?

Jin can’t stop his smile, he’s conscious of who might be watching, so he hides it with his palm. Flirting on the FBI’s time has never felt so good.

What would you recommend?

Joonie (1:23): Spanking and sweets probably.

That at least had made Jin feel a little bit more at ease. But he knows what Namjoon really means, that he’s saying they should talk about this later face to face. Or worse there isn’t an easy solution. Namjoon had warned him that a request for therapy, however gentle and well-worded it was, might not go over well.

But what else can you do when someone won’t accept your concern? When love falls short? For the first time ever Jin is unsure what you need.

Over the next few weeks, you can tell that they’re being overly gentle with you. Treating you with velvet gloves.

Namjoon barks an order at Jungkook and Hobi when they rough house too close to you. jostling you where you stand unsteady in the bathroom. Tae lets loose a sleepy growl when Jungkook back hugs you one morning- something ordinarily innocuous but now makes you flinch hard. hand pressed over your heart to stop its thundering. Both times Jungkook tucks his tail smelling sour at being scolded even though it's really not his fault.

Everyone's instincts are running on high. Your scent is so off these days. Something about it muted and only getting duller. Jin didn't realize until the other day when he tried to find a pillow that smelled like you while nesting and couldn't.

The head of the FBI's largest organized crime task force, brought to sniffles over not being able to find the right pillow. What would Jin's enemies think?

Yoongi had only sighed, and relinquished his shirt to Jin's nesting. At least that was the next best thing.

but it's not only the little things that they're holding off from; it's sex too. You can clearly tell that they want to instigate something when you come upstairs one night after spending a few minutes with Tae in the library room.

Jungkook sat's tight across Namjoon’s lap. Moving his hips in a way that's sensual clinging to the pack alphas bare chest and licking into his mouth like an omega starved.

You know what they want to do- christen the nest in a way, truly break it in and make it smell like the pack.

But they'd stilled at your appearance and you'd made yourself scarce, clearly not ready to be asked to stay (or scarier- asked to leave). When you'd come back after showering the room had smelled of sour unhappy arousal and Jungkook had been pouting on the other side of the nest from Jin and Namjoon.

You hadn't heard the whispered argument. "You're treating her the exact same way you treated me when my seizures went bad."

"That was a different circumstance Koo and you know it."

"Still- it doesn't change the fact that you're making the decision for her instead of making a place that's safe enough for her to decide what she wants."

The idea that Jungkook and the others are holding off for your sake has you feeling even more guilty.

Even Tae- once insatiable, now hardly lifts her head from her computer when you walk into the library room wearing next to nothing. You know it’s just that. Just busyness that she's been spending every available second writing her new story.

But you can’t help but feel odd about it. Half guilty and half extra. Unwelcome.

Neglected isn’t the right word. Neglected is the word that Hobi would use for his orchid or the cactus that he accidentally forgot about outside. Two plants that are equally as finicky, opposites but maybe not in terms of difficulty. One praised for being beautiful, the other coveted for being hard to take care of.

It feels like that a lot of the time, that you're just hard to take care of. you're an adult you shouldn't even need to be taken care of at all.

That night- you toss and turn in the bed. Unable to sleep because you can't help but think about it, your thoughts a rushing torrent of you're such a bother. Maybe they're just trying to let you down easily. Maybe all of the love is a lie. You should try harder, if you try harder to overcome this then maybe they won't ask you to leave.

Sadness has rotted your brain a little, you don't know how to get back, how to stop the spiral. Until your hands are so tight that your nails dig into your palms. Leaving bloody little crescents.

The next day you try to catch up on sleep. In the nesting pod. A dark spot. Out of sight and out of mind, where all broken things go when it's clear they can't be fixed in a way that makes them useful. But it feels like you've only slept a few minutes when you're roused- not from a nightmare, but because someone gets into your nesting pod with you.

You smile in your sleep at the scent of honey, rich and golden. So nice and sweet that it makes you get goosebumps. Jungkook noses at them, dragging his cheek along the hair on your arms, soft and pleasant in that sensory sort of way.

Even though the nesting pod was a gift from Namjoon you'd been clear to Jungkook and Jin that they could use it whenever they wanted to. They're always a little bit more inclined to nest upstairs.

You sleepily hold out your arms for Jungkook, only cracking your eyes a little. You're not prepared for the sight of him in a crop top. blinking as you register it. Your pulse climbing higher. Jungkook doesn't say anything, doesn't say anything at all as he pulls his body along yours, settling mostly on top of you. quiet until you query "Kookie?"

He smells a little like the gym, but more like he'd showered there and then come home. You don't remember what day it is, what his schedule was. But the house is quiet around you, it must be one of his early days then?

His nose rubs smooth little circles along your neck, and when you pull back his eyes are a little glassy. "I miss you," he says, voice cracking a tiny bit. You don't have to ask why he misses you when you're right here. You know and your heart clenches painfully.

you laugh, "you just saw me this morning." but his lower lip wobbles, and you know thats not what he meant. it's frightfully easy to knot your fingers in his hair and pull him down to eye level. "c'm here."

You can tell by the way that Jungkook kisses you that he wants you, his arousal burning skin deep as his tongue laves against your lower lip and his hand slides down your chin to cup your scent gland, fingers pressing over the sensitive skin delicately.

You're so fucking tired.

Jungkook’s sex drive is honestly the highest in the pack, and you know that they usually keep him well tended to. But you also know that because of your predicament, no one’s tended to his needs in the last few days. You can smell it on the edge of his scent. Sweet but overly sweet, like a hovering cloud of settling perfume, unable to settle. Just getting stronger.

It’s not your job, and it shouldn’t be anyone’s job per se, but the idea of turning him down is so displeasing that you won’t even if you’re not really in the mood right now. You're so fucking tired. There isn't room for anything else. you don't have the energy to want this, you don't have the energy to want anything but sleep.

You kiss back, a little gentler than he wants, the soft needy noise he makes against the seam of your mouth tells you just how welcome it is. Your arms are sluggish as they go around his shoulders. He grins happy, and you grin too- because Jungkook’s joy is honestly so infectious. You let him tug you up, tug you out of the nesting pod even though your heart lurches.

This is your use to the pack, isn't it? The youngest omega, the lowest one in the hierarchy. You shouldn't say no and deny Jungkook what he wants. This is the way that he feels free, the way that he makes himself better.

After the pack's sleeping quarters had changed, there’d been a whole debate over where exactly to put the pack's sex toy collection and what to do with their old bedroom on the first floor. The side closet is no longer big enough or in use.

Installing some shelves in the bedroom had been the easiest solution. now they frame either side of the windows, holding Tae's overspill of books at the top and a few display cases. You remember the first day you'd wandered in here in search of your mate and found some suspicious-looking brackets installed along the ceiling studs, sawdust piles sweeper up on the floor.

“It’s totally not a sex dungeon.”

“Babe, you’re making a display for Jungkook’s dildo collection with a built-in sex bench.” At least you can still tease your mate when you're sad like this. Every little semi-normal comment you make feels like seeing the sun during a break from the storm. Even Yoongi's pout is half a smile.

“Just because I want there to be a bench doesn’t mean It’s a sex bench. It could be for like- watching tiktok and stuff. You know Hobi likes to find a spot where he won't bother us.”

“It’s totally a sex bench.”

“Is not.”

Yoongi is too fun to rile up. You'd watched him blush as you and Jungkook had playfully grabbed and swung on the ropes Yoongi was hanging, the heavy thick cotton ones soft to the touch that won’t irritate his loves sensitive skin. testing out the brackets meant for suspension.

Jungkook’s just as giggly and happy when he drags you there now, and your smile is very real pressed to his shoulder. The farthest thing from fake. it might be the first time you've smiled today. Jungkook always makes you feel this way; a little younger, a little bit like you’re sneaking around. That at least feels right.

You're very good at concentrating on the parts of sex that feel good, the parts that you want and not the ones that you don't.

(This morning the others had talked about it with Jungkook. Jimin and Tae had cuddled close to brainstorm. The way they often talk about sex things and pack things. Jimin's snorted honesty still stings.

"I don't know if Yoongi could literally fuck the sadness out of her, but at least it's a suggestion."

Jungkook had felt petulant and whiney, "But why doesn't he just try- if anyone's got a magic just right dick it's him-" Tae had chased Jungkook's disappointment with a kiss.

The truth is; the pack is mostly at a loss with how to help you this time. The most they can do is just stay close and make sure you have everything you need. But lately, not even that has felt like enough. Tae had scrapped her nails down Jungkook's abs, soothing him, with a bit of tingly pain pleasure.

"You're the only one whose bad mood can literally be cured with a good fuck bunny.”)

Yes, Jungkook is trying to make you feel lighter in the only way he knows how right now. But there are different medicines for different hurts for a reason.

Jungkook guides you down to the sex bench, tugging at your shirt a little. Still kissing you. Up close you realize it's actually more of a daybed, styled very attractively with a few throw pillows. One that's more memory foam and sturdy for propping bodies up.

It's no secret how sweet turned on happy Jungkook smells from just a little kissing, just the bare minimum. Jungkook moans- a crocked needy sound, scent pulsing richer in the air. He squirms a little bit, reaching over to one of those shelves. Rummaging in one of the frosted acrylic buckets.

“I’ve had this idea for weeks now that you've taken Joonie’s- fuck- I just- I didn’t know when you’d want to try it but I saw this video online with two omegas and Jin said no but- ha! Here it is!”

You gulp.

The big purple thing is a veritable monster, glittery and double-ended, ridged not like a regular dildo but more like a tentacle. It's about as thick around as your wrist. Namjoon’s a little thicker but still-

it makes fear trickle down your spine, warm and almost bleeding.

Jungkook reads your expression. And the disappointment crests his cheeks, his bunny smile falls, and you feel like you’ve failed already.

At the thought of being filled right now. You feel like you might want to vomit. You try not to have any sort of expression, just a small smile- but fall abysmally short. You’re too tired, too sore, too tight to properly enjoy that.

The idea that your sadness is enough to get in the way of this, what Jungkook so clearly needs is suddenly too much for you to bare. Jungkook needs sex, doesn't he? He needs it to make the seizures feel not quite so damning. He'd told you once- how much he required sex to feel loved. It's his love language right? Isn't this what people always say when they want physical touch?

Who are you to say that your needs are more important than his? You certainly do not love yourself as much as you love him.

Jungkook’s frown is heartbreaking and you easily kiss it away. Making your kisses more eager. You’re a good kisser and a good actor. Your kisses make Jungkook feel all fluttery and hot in the chest, quickly forgetting about the dildo and whatever plans he might have had.

"Just want you- don't want-" words get in the way of kissing, sucking, you mouth at Jungkook's lower lip, making him groan.

Jungkook’s scent gland is a semi-swollen little lump under your teeth as you nibble on it, making him part his legs, grinding up into nothing and letting out a breathless whine. You set yourself across his lap and his big hands quickly fist on your waist pulling you snugly.

You don’t mind this, you really don’t.

It's too routine for you, the first thing that you reach for to avoid saying no. His belt buckle is warm against your palm as you shift so that you can slide to the floor. Pulling your body away from him. he lets out a needy bereft sound. stopping you as you start to tugg at his waistband.

his cheeks are pink, lips red from kisses when you pull back. "I-"

"Let me kiss you here Koo." Let me at least do something. Let me stop feeling so guilty, I know how to fix the guilt even if you don't.

Jungkook catches your chin before you sink to the floor. Jungkook has a hickey on his abs glimmering there just along his hipline. The crop top pulled up to right under his pectorals in a way you know would have the alphas growling and mouthing at his stomach. That's probably how he got the hickey in the first place.

“But you don’t like it.” He says, not quite understanding. Catching your hand as you slide it across his knee.

“I want to try.” You lie, "I-I feel like I’ve lost practice, need to be taught how-” You bat your eyes, looking down and away like you're embarrassed. Just let me do this and make you cum. Just let me get this over with so that we can go back to cuddling and I can feel safer. Jungkook always gets especially cuddly after he's cum too. “I don’t- I don’t do it for the alphas like at all." Your stuttering isn't all faked. You’ve lost practice in a lot of things, but lying clearly isn’t one of them.

“Or Yoongi” Jungkook notes. A little too quickly.

Your heart pulses, Bruised a bit at that. You've never explicitly discussed the abuse you underwent with anyone but Yoongi and Namjoon. You didn't think anyone really noticed how much you don't like giving blowjobs. It's not that you don't want to reciprocate or touch- it's just that once with Geumjae, the choice to reciprocate was taken away from you. The choice to get anything at all was always taken away. It's hard to forget that, to want it again.

You remember his words. He'd always been violent with words before he'd ever gotten violent physically with you. Coercion doesn't feel like it has the same weight compared to that (Hobi would probably argue with you- but his case was different wasn't it?)

"You're so fucking selfish, you could help me in like- 10 minutes but you're choosing not too. We could go back to having a normal fucking evening. I do so much for you and even now when I can't fucking sleep you won't just do this one fucking thing- it's not like I'm asking for much. You're too young, I should have known you wouldn't know how normal relationships function."

It's foolish of you to think that you could be selfish forever. You should get used to this with Jungkook so that it's not so bad with the others later. In case they ever realize how selfish you've been.

“Yeah,” you swallow back a lump in your throat. “But can I? I want to-” You make your eyes wide, biting your tongue hard so that your scent doesn’t go sour.

Jungkook looks like he’s warring with himself for a second but then the hornyness wins out. He pulls his pants down his thighs and you help him, big and muscular as he stands, you on the floor before him. It feels right in a twisted way. See I know my place, see I'm not trying to get away with anything.

Jungkook almost trips when he moves to get a pillow for your knees because he’s not a monster. Namjoon and Jin have taught him well.

Jungkook is not a monster.

If you said no, if you said that you wanted to stop you know he wouldn’t hold it against you. At least not at first, at least not this time. After the 4th or 5th or 10th attempt you know that wouldn't be the case.

Jungkook doesn't even have large enough of a cock for it to feel like a real blowjob. His bunny eyes are wide and eager as you give it a first little kiss. Tentative. You kiss the head again, focusing, dragging your lips up the sides and nuzzling into the skin of his hip, indulging in his scent because at least Jungkook smells nice, smells clean, before you take him into your mouth

Geumjae always smelled a bit like piss. Tasted like it too. At least Jungkook's not like that.

He can be forgiven maybe, for not noticing right away. For not asking if you want this twice. A muted curse falls from his lips instead and he carefully cradles your head. A little startled.

"Fuck- ah-" The muscles of his abdomen tense beneath your touch, startled by the sudden influx of pleasure and the wet tight hot heat of your mouth. "I don't think you need any practice- fuck-"

Omega cock tastes less bitter than alpha cock does. And Jungkook’s dick is honestly so small you can’t even choke on it properly. He doesn’t hit the back of your throat when he rocks it into your mouth. Eking pleasure from the tight seam of your lips.

He doesn’t even hit the back of your throat or engage your gag reflex. So, you wonder why your eyes start watering. One of his hands fists (albeit a little bit too sloppy to be totally gentle) in your hair, using it to keep you stationary while he fucks your mouth. Little rolls of his hips that end in cute, "ah-ah-ah" sounds leaving his lips.

Good, you're doing good. Your nose is buried in his skin. With the little tuft of hair there, Jungkook must have showered at the gym because it doesn't smell like anything. Just breathe.

You know Jungkook doesn't get stimulation to his cock often. The others much prefer to fuck his hole rather than pay attention to it and that works in your favor now because Jungkook's so sensitive. You feel his cock jerk a little, tensing as his abdomen does, flexing up against the pallet of your mouth. Especially when your tongue teases at the head. Finding the ridge of his frenulum and pressing up.

Your lungs sting but you keep your tongue flat, lapping up at the underside, keeping your mouth wet and messy and not swallowing yet. Jungkook's precum tastes a little salty, not as salty as alpha cum would taste like but still not bad. Just a little bit like sweat and a little bit like honey.

Jungkook looks down at you, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead his lips falling slack in pleasure. Hips twitching up, looking debauched and lovely from it already. Pride swells, even as you have to fight back the urge to gag. Quieting the revulsion in your stomach through force of will alone.

You can do this, you don't have to make a big deal over it-

Jungkook tips his head back, closing his eyes, and you're free to shudder unwatched. "Fuck- just like that- you're so good at it, fuck-" You wonder if you get this same wide-eyed subspace look when you’re sad if that’s why he doesn't notice. Your knees burn, hands tighten. One on his hips the other digging into your thigh.

You hear someone outside in the hall and before you have the chance to even think about pulling off they're opening the door. Jimin almost trips, Clearly not expecting to see you on your knees or Jungkook with his legs splayed and shirt rucked up to show his tummy.

You pop off Jungkook’s cock easily, jaw aching already (you really are out of practice) Jimin’s look is all predatory, alpha pheromones bubbling up. One second startled, the next prowling in your direction like a jungle cat.

“Ah pups, getting into trouble? Pups having a treat?”

Jungkook giggles, spreading his knees wider, fingers stroking down your cheek as you catch your breath. Wiping the spit from your lips. “We’re not done yet,” he huffs. You blink up at Jimin and the touch he drops on your head is everything. Soothing your frantic panting. You push up into it, eager for a casually loving touch.

"Wanna make some trouble with us?"

“maybe, think i'd much rather watch" He teases, jutting his chin at Jungkook and settling down next to him, leaning on his chin to watch you as you're urged back to it. You kiss Jungkook's cock again as the alpha guides him into a kiss. Settling his happy-turned-on pheromones into a thick bubble that bursts.

You lap at Jungkook’s cock head, making it messy. Watching the two of them get distracted by kissing, licking into each other’s mouths. Jungkook's hand falls from your hair in favor of cupping Jimin's thigh.

And you below them, an afterthought.

You ignore the longing in your chest and go back to sucking Jungkook off. After a minute or two, Jimin's hand returns to your head, his knuckles rub against your cheek in lazy circles.

It would feel loving any other time but not right now. Not when you're trying to ignore the voice that whispers in the back of your mind that this is all you're good for. On your knees, mouth open. Finally useful. Finally worth the bother of loving. A voice that doesn’t come from any of them but sounds suspiciously like Geumjae's occupying your thoughts.

Jimin's hands are on your head too, rubbing against your cheek. Wiping away a little bit of spit on the corner of your lips. He clearly thinks you're deep in omegaspace. Interpreting your quiet softness for that sweetness and not this devastation. there is always a moment of quiet before a disaster, an intake of breath where everyone braces for impact.

“My good little princess, making your packmate happy, look at you pup,” Jimin croons. Clearly enjoying the pretty picture that you and Jungkook paint.

If anything, it's hearing that old pet name that makes you break. You're fine until you're not.

You're just so tired.

There is wetness on your face and it’s not spit or slobber or cum just tears. Little sniffles. your first one goes un-noticed by them, but not the second or the third. Jungkook freezes. And suddenly the fingers on your cheeks aren’t pulling you closer to Jungkook’s hips but off. Tilting your face. Jimin's hands quickly push Jungkooks away.

Jimin has stoney eyes, his mouth hard and discerning, lips parting. “Pup?” Jungkook’s already got his hand on your arm bunny eyes the soft opposite to Jimin’s. Jimin effortlessly transfers you from the floor to the couch. "Oh pup."

You wipe at your tears stubbornly. “Just one second, just give me a second and then I can keep going I promise, I’m fine- I’m fine” you keep repeating it, keep saying it but you smell so sour-sad. Your pout wobbles hot tears welling up threatening to spill over renewed.

But in what world would they ever let you cry during sex without pre-negotiating? In what world would they let you cry without comforting you?

“I don’t even know why I’m crying but I can't stop-”

No sooner have the words slipped past your lips are they pulling you up from the floor and into their laps, manhandled and small. You fight it a little. but Jimin crushes you to his chest and you sag. t

Jungkook has never gotten less turned on quicker, a packmate's distress takes so much precedence over this. Pulling up his pants. His pleasure isn't even a thought in the back of his mind. You take precedent.

Jungkook thought you knew that.

He feels helpless, helpless as you scrub angrily at your mouth, he uses his sweatshirt sleeve to wipe the saliva and spit from your mouth, then your tears from your cheeks. "Oh fuck- I'm so sorry- fuck I-"

And oh, you're crying into Jimin's chest now, real tears. Sobbing harder.

Jimin glances up and for a second he looks a little angry. He has every right to be angry at Jungkook for this. He's barely been here for like, a minute and a half. But the anger isn't welcome, you're too close to Jimin's scent gland, flinching when he starts to smell sour. Pulling back, so so so terrified, quivering in his lap.

"I'm sorry alpha, just give me a second and I'll get to you too-"

Now Jimin's angry for a whole new reason, angry at people he can't punish, people who are already dead. Jimin feels his anger in his hands. Struggling to stay gentle on you.

Oh fuck that.

Jimin’s fingers pinch at the back of your neck, scruffing you until your scent mellows out a little. "None of that now." He snaps, sharp shifting from concerned packmate to commanding dom effortlessly. "You'll do no such thing. You're going to stay right here until I tell you I'm done holding you."

Jimin's firmness is exactly what you need. You feel his power in his arms, crushing you, restraining you. Jungkook is not a dom, and that has never been clearer than right now. if he was than you would have never gotten into this predicament. "Can't you be good and do what Alpha asks?"

"Yes Alpha" you sob.

Jungkook looks at you guilty, eyes swimming with tears too. He's always been a sympathetic crier but he doesn’t let them spill. Even if Jimin spies them. His lower lip wobbles as he looks at you. Reaching out to hold you too and then snatching his hands back at the last second. If Jimin's touch is your remedy then Jungkook's is surely poison. “Why didn’t you-”

“I just- I just didn’t want to be bad.” You know what they’re about to say, that saying no wouldn’t have been bad but your brain is all terrified of it.

“M’sorry” Jungkook wants to say that there’s nothing you’ve got to apologize for that it’s him that should, but it’s difficult. It’s so difficult when you’re crying so hard it kinda feels like you might pass out. hyperventilating a little. He can do little more than loop his arms around Jimin's waist and trap you between the two of them, sandwiching you. Applying pressure. Holding you tight. In a way that has you instantly plummeting. Down past subspace, past omegaspace, where everything is dark and bland and nothing. Where you're nothing.

“M’sorry Koo-” He doesn’t trust his wobbly voice to speak as you sob out, “Don’t tell them, don’t tell Namjoon and Jin or Yoongi please- don't want them to worry. It’s not Koo's fault it's mine. I’m fine. m' just feeling off. I’ll be better alpha I promise.”

Luckily there is no one home. No one is home to hear any of this. Jimin has always been perilously unable to deny his girls their silly wishes. And if the idea of Namjoon or Jin knowing has you panicking anew then Jimin will take this secret to the grave.

Jimin soothes you with a happy alpha rumble, feeling exactly the opposite- wishing there was Namjoon or Jin to call for backup. This is clearly not normal crying. Jungkook surely couldn't have put you into subspace but somehow you're dropping. Leaning in to every word that graces Jimin's lips like you need the absolution he brings.

“But you’re already so good for us pup- already so good for saying no even though it was hard. Here. Lie out so we can hold you. Here.” It's what you wanted from the beginning someone close by enough to touch enough to cuddle.

Only this time it feels even less like you deserve it.

You make yourself as small as you can. Jungkook and Jimin alternate, kissing off your cheeks. Until you stop crying and fall asleep. Crying yourself back to sleep. You really were just sleep-deprived.

Jimin's got one arm around your waist, another cradling the back of your head. And only once he's absolutely sure that you are completely asleep does he hiss over the top of your head.

"Jungkook What the hell-"

"I asked, you know I asked. She said she was okay I swear-"

A whispered argument ensues, drawn out until the others come home. Their anger quieting at the sound of them, Yoongi softly calls your name. Mindful of the fact you could be sleeping.

When you wake up around dinner time you're non-verbal and pupish. There are too many people around for Jungkook to be able to pull you to the side and ask, to just talk this out. He watches you close at dinner, watches and waits for a chance to talk to you that won't come. You'll pretend you're asleep tomorrow when he wakes, just to avoid it for a little while longer.

If the others notice anything strange with you at dinner time no one broaches it. Of course, you don't speak at all. Answering their questions with shaken heads and careful nuzzles under Tae’s chin where you sit side by side with her. Your chairs pulled together so that they’re more of a bench. She smells so good- so Rosey that you press your face into her shoulder to avoid the other's eyes.

Never mind the fact that you don't smell like anything at all. Maybe you're dissociating too bad to smell like anything. So disconnected from your emotions that you can't feel them let alone smell like them.

After dinner you take an extra long in the shower so that by the time you exit the bathroom Jin has already scruffed Jungkook sleepy. He looks cute too. Pouting in his sleep, restless.

There's an extra soft nesting space carved out just beside him that he made special for you with a few pillows and his favorite nesting things. It will go unused.

That night, you don't bother trying to sleep.

~-~

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Upstairs floor plan:

Chapter playlist:

Noah Kahan - Call your mom

Coldplay - Sparks

nick cave and the bad seeds - O' children

Pine Grove- Need too

[bliss-in-the-void]

Why is Satoru so fixated on this idea of “never letting anyone be alone again”?

The answer at face value is obvious, Suguru was alone after they started taking solo missions, but let’s really talk about the gravity of that statement, and also the relevance that Shoko’s “I was there too, you weren’t alone” has with this concept.

I’ll be discussing the manga so spoilers if you aren’t caught up:

This analysis cooks I tell you

In Jujukai 0, Satoru sees that Yuuta tried killing himself with a knife to prevent hurting other people. He wants to confine himself completely and be alone, exactly like what Suguru had to go through a decade earlier. Satoru recognizes this and forces Yuuta to join the first years so that he won’t be alone and face the same descent into madness that Suguru did. He feels that he failed Suguru, and this is shown time and time again throughout the story, such as here:

Here, Satoru had a discussion with Shoko, who is remembering that conversation. He said that he’ll raise the next crop of sorcerers to be allies so no one will be alone (his prime motivation for everything), and then Shoko responds effectively, “I’d never fall in love with either of you, but even still, I was still there, you weren’t alone”

But she isn’t recognizing the full meaning behind Satoru’s words. Because what happened after Satoru became the strongest? This became his belief:

He advanced at such a quick rate that he left Suguru in the dust. And that caused both of them to be alone. He was alone in being the strongest, and Suguru was alone in being unable to reach that same level, alone to deal with curses on solo missions, and alone in his descent of madness. It drove them apart, and got in between their bond.

I think Shoko recognizes that much. But I thought it was weird when she suddenly said “I’d never fall in love with either of you” because it was like…well, yeah, but why say that? Bringing up love seemed kind of random and out of place.

And then I realized it’s because she recognizes that Satoru and Suguru were in love with each other. Being in love with someone means that you feel a certain level of depth unmatched with anyone else. You feel like the two of you are at the top of the world, or in your very own world, apart from the rest, completely untouchable. Time and time again we see this shown throughout Satoru and Suguru’s interactions.

That is what Shoko means when she says “I’d never fall in love with either of you”. She’s saying “I recognize that I never felt the kind of love you two had for each other, but you were still never alone.”

And I get that. But because she doesn’t comprehend the bond they had (and really, she couldn’t, because the only ones who can truly feel it are the two of them), Satoru and Suguru really were alone once they split up. Maybe not physically, but emotionally, they were all alone.

And Satoru left Suguru first. Not physically, but emotionally. Because of the stark difference in their abilities. And that is what lead Suguru down his dark path, because he felt alone, and Satoru wasn’t there to chase away his contempt for non-sorcerers like he used to.

When Satoru says he wants to raise strong allies so no one is alone, he’s saying that he wants no one to be the strongest, he wants everyone to be at the same level, so that there’s no barriers, there’s no blind reliance on power causing someone to take what they have in front of them for granted like he did to Suguru.

That’s why this hits harder given that context:

“Trust, huh? To think you still had some of that for me.”

Suguru spent these last 10 years thinking that Satoru didn’t trust him, didn’t need to, because of the difference in their abilities. Why trust someone else when you need only rely on your own powers? Or, in the animated version, Suguru says,

“You want to talk about trust? I didn’t think I still had any of that left, with the shit I went through.”

Satoru left him alone when he “alone became the honored one,” breaking Suguru’s trust. From that point, he didn’t pay real attention to Suguru. When he asked Suguru “have you lost weight? Are you okay?” And accepted Suguru’s half-baked answer, that showed Suguru that Satoru didn’t really care. Or at least, wasn’t paying enough attention to know something was seriously wrong. Broken trust. Satoru had abandoned him and their bond.

Too late, Satoru recognizes this. And he makes his vow to raise the next generation to be strong allies so that no one gets left behind like Suguru or isolated and “special” like himself. You can even see it when he decides to put Itadori in the room right next to Megumi. He never wants it to happen again.

[urm0o0m]

"You Belong To Me"

Synopsis: You were in a cult. A cult that was led by Geto Suguru. Although some people wanted to leave and others just lived, you were die-hard. You’d do anything this man said. If he told you to jump, you’d jump and touch the clouds. Suguru noticed this and decided to reward your “good behavior” as you were also at the age where you had to get married and bear children.

Content Warning: Cult ideations, Impact play/slapping, fingering, riding, sorta brain rot, edging, Virgin reader!, begging, praise, degradation, crying, marking 𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ

You suck in a deep breath of air, trying to steady your hands. You stood there, in front of these two big wooden doors dressed in a version of Oiran attire. White face make-up, extravagant hairdo and accessories and your best kimono paired with the wooden sandals that boost your height. You push open the door to see your leader, Geto sitting on the ground on top of a mat. You walk into the room, the door closing behind you. You bow your head, sitting down opposite to him.

“y/n” Suguru says and your face grows hot. “Yes My Lord?” A smirk plasters itself on his face. “So you’re at the age where it’s time for you to marry and bear children for the sake of our beliefs” You swallow and a frown makes its way onto your face before returning to a smile. You couldn’t see yourself with anyone, let alone give birth to children. “I suppose so My Lord” Geto smiles at you before saying “We will be sure to find you a suitable mate” Your face cringes at the sound of being married.

“What’s the matter y/n?” Suguru asks. “Nothing My Lord” You say, head hanging low. Geto’s hand reaches for your chin before pulling your head up, his eyes locking with yours. “Do you not wish to be married? Did you not vow to give your everything including your body when you became a part of this family? Didn’t you?” You swallow again before nodding. “Is it that you believe you are too good for any of the men here? That you-” “N-no My Lord I would never-” His hand grips your jaw. 

“Do not speak out of turn again.” You nod. “I bet you believe that your body is a temple and that it belongs to you and you only. But I hate to break it to you but your body belongs to me. Am I understood?” You nod. “Speak” “Y-yes My Lord!” Suguru rises and helps you stand as well. You stand before him and you feel your kimonos bow being loosened, the clothing falling to the ground. Geto takes his clothes off and you finally realize how goddamn sexy this man is. 

Your eyes begin trailing down his body and you finally see his hard-on. You almost begin drooling at the sight of his cock. You haven’t seen a guy's penis before but you know that his size is not average. Geto looks like his erection would split you in two if he put it in. Hell, you don’t even think it would fit. Geto grabs your hand, guiding your naked body to the futon that resides on the floor. The raven-haired male lays you down, his lips finding yours.

 As you both kiss, tongues dancing a sinful dance, his hands begin to roam your body, fingers dancing upon your skin before they reach your thighs. Your thighs finally part, allowing him to reach your core. “God y/n. Your fucking soaked” You blush, looking away. “I’m going to treat you properly. I might even make you my wife for your obedient behavior” Those words go straight to your cunt. Now you have to show off and do your best for him. You wanted to be his wife after all. 

You were the only person who you thought really deserved him. But if he didn’t feel the same and married you off to someone else, you’d do it. You’d bear your husband's children. All for the sake of your esteemed leader. Before you realize it Geto’s finger slip inside of you, causing you to moan out. His free hand covers your mouth. “You wouldn’t want anyone to hear you moan like a slut? If someone came in here and saw this you’d be ruined. You wouldn’t be married. Imagine that disappointment to your parents” 

You swallow, nodding and he smiles, his fingers curling up and pressing into your g-spot. You groan, trying to keep your noises to a minimum. You whine before feeling your back arching up. God you felt so embarrassed with how fast you were coming undone. You never even came this fast when you touched yourself but it’s just something about his touch that made you feel like you were losing your mind. Your breathing becomes shallow and your legs start to shake when Geto pulls his fingers out of you. 

“Already going to cum? I haven’t even been fingering you for ten minutes pretty girl” You whimper before saying “P-please~ Don’t t-tease me My Lord” Suguru slaps you before saying “I’ll do whatever I please. Who are you to stop me?” You groan before saying “I-I’m sorry My Lord! You just m-make me feel so good” He smiles, his fingers going back to working your g-spot. Your eyes begin to water as you try and hold in your orgasm. “You’re not allowed to cum. Not yet. I want you to hold it, baby. Just a little longer then you can cum all over my fingers”

Your legs begin to shake and your back arches. Tears slip from your eyes as Suguru’s free hand rubs against your clit. Your nails dig into his muscular forearm, leaving small marks in the shape of little crescents from your fingernails. “I-I don’t think I can hold it anymore! Please just let me cum for you!” Suguru chuckles against your neck. “Come on, beg a little more. I like it when you beg” You groan, trying to keep your composure and try not to focus on the overwhelming pleasure ripping through your body. 

You find yourself grinding against his finger and  he slips them out of your cunt again and you whine. “Didn’t I tell you to beg for it y/n?” You swallow, nodding your head. “I mean if you don’t want to cum then-” You shake your head. “N-No! Please My Lord I…” Your voice trails off. You can’t believe you were going to say something this lewd. “P-please let- let me cum for you My Lord. Let me make a mess all o-over your fingers!” Suguru laughs before slipping his pointer and middle fingers back inside of you, his thumb adding pressure to your clit.

Your eyes widen as you feel your orgasm growing closer and closer, Geto momentarily edging you making the feeling that much more intense. You groan out, trying to stifle the noise of your moans somehow. Suguru’s hot breath tickles your ear as he whispers. “Let go. Let go and cum for me my pretty obedient whore” Your back arches off of the futon and your orgasm washes over your body. 

Geto takes a moment to absorb this moment. The look on your face. God, He could look at you forever. Your tear-stained cheeks; flushed out face; chest rising and falling. Suguru slides his fingers out of your cunt, inserts his fingers into his mouth, tasting your ecstasy. Without warning, Geto pulls your shaky thighs apart without needing to use much force and he aligns himself up with your slit, causing you to panic slightly. Suguru takes notice of the panic engraved into your face.

“What’s the matter?” He inquires softly. “I-I’m not… I don’t think it’s gonna fit” You say, rather anxiously. “I’ll go slow at first, let you get used to it. Or I might not. All depends on how tight your pretty pussy is” You shudder as Suguru’s tip pokes at your hole, causing you to pull away slightly but his grip on your waist holds you in place. “Just relax Doll. As long as you keep still and let me put it in, I’ll make you feel really good. Alright?”

 You shudder as his tip pokes at your hole. Geto slowly slides the head in, causing you to immediately tighten around him. “Relax your body, Love” Suguru says, as he stops himself from moving anymore. You relax, but that doesn't make it easier for him to push inside of you. Suguru begins to grow impatient, completely bottoming out inside of you, tearing your hymen. You scream out, body convulsing as you find yourself unable to focus on anything but the pain. Geto places his hand over your mouth, muffling your screams and whimpers.

“Shh. It’s okay baby. You wouldn’t let me in so I had to” He says, his fingers stroking the side of your face. Geto’s hand then trails down your body, reaching your clit and slightly rubbing it. The mixture of pain and pleasure causes you to see stars. “S-so good~” You whimper, as your chest rises and falls rapidly. Suguru groans, trying not to pick up his pace. Although due to the tightness of your cunt, it slowly weakens his resolve.

You find your hips slightly bucking up at the feeling of his tip slipping into your cervix with each thrust, practically knocking the wind straight out of your lungs. Both the pleasure and small hints of pain that had begun to fade from the original intrusion began to fade, leaving only pleasure in its wake. You knew his cock was ruining you. Your cunt would be stretched out to fit him and only him. Your eyes momentarily roll to the back of your head and Suguru grabs your throat, forcing your eyes to assume their normal position.

His fingers grips the sides of your throat, watching as your tits bounced with each hard thrust.  Your breathing grows heavier, paired with your quivering voice as you whimper out “P-please!~ I wanna c-cum for you Sir!” Geto releases your throat, laying down and pulling you up, allowing you to ride him. This position made you feel so full. With your hands grounding you on his chest, you found your hips moving on their own, bouncing up and down, the lewd sounds from your ass hitting his thighs.

You moan, biting down on your lip as you try to keep quiet but good God. Geto’s dick was hitting all the right places. You don’t think you’d be able to cum the same way. Not after this. Your cunt begins to squeeze around him as your orgasm begins building up again. Your fingernails begin to dig into his shoulders. Suddenly, Suguru’s hands grip your ass, holding you in place and fucking up into you. Your eyes begin to water as the pleasure begins to overwhelm you. 

“Come on slut. I want one more orgasm from you” You begin to shake your head, not being able to focus on the hedonism that has clouded your mind. Truth be told you wanted another on, hoping it would be as gratifying as the last but you couldn’t seem to focus properly. Geto hips stop, leaving you frustrated and confused. “W-why’d you stop Sir? Am I n-not doing a good enough job for you?” Suguru chuckles before saying “Didn’t I tell you I want another orgasm from you? When I want something your top priority must be what I wish for. So what’s it gonna be y/n?”

You swallow before saying “I-I can try” Geto shakes his head. “No. That isn’t what I asked for. I want one and you will give me one” You nod your head before saying “Y-yes Sir” Your hips begin moving on their own, not giving him a chance to thrust up into you. Your cunt begins to squeeze around him, as you try to focus on the orgasm beginning to form between your legs. Geto groans before saying “That’s it. Now I just need you to cum for me, pretty girl.”

You nod, legs beginning to shake as the knot starts growing tighter and tighter. Your breathing begins to grow shallow as your hips begin to grind against his pelvis area, providing you with more stimulation. Suguru groans, as he tries to keep himself from moving to give you an opportunity to focus and create your own pace and to make yourself cum on his cock. “Mmm…’m gonna cum~!” You say, gradually picking up speed. “Go ahead. Take yourself there. I want to see how pretty you face looks when you cum on my cock”

You momentarily stop, pleasure taking over your body as you convulse, having your first full body orgasm. You try to lift off of his dick but Geto holds you down, refusing to let you go as his cock begins twitching inside of you. Suguru lays you on your back, slowly fucking into you as your body writhes in ecstasy.  After a couple of slow and deep thrusts, Geto finally reaches his own climax, growling in your ear, his grip on your hips sure to leave bruises in place of his hands.

Suguru slowly pulls out of you, watching your cunt grip around nothing. He sees his cum beginning to leak out of your cunt. Geto gradually slips his fingers back inside of you, pushing his cum back inside of you. “Don’t waste it whore. I was kind enough to cum inside of you. You should be grateful” You swallow, nodding as you can’t form coherent words just yet. Suguru chuckles.

“I think I might end up marrying you Doll. I might have to fuck you again some other time to make the final decision”

Word count: 2,274

Start date: February 12, 2024 3:49 PM

End date: February 23 2024 8;25 PM

[puniflash]

The Fall Guy

This movie has completely taken control over my existence, so here are the little things I love most about it, in no particular order.

The triple meaning of the title.

Colt not just being the fall guy in the sense of the stunt community, but also (almost) taking the fall for Henry's murder, and falling in love with Jody so deeply he'd basically die for her.

This is so cool, and I love the english language for it.

(Also, the little fall guy in the A? Perfection.)

The long shots.

My love for one-ers is just as big as Jody's, I guess.

The opening sequence is just so perfect.

Introducing the main characters, establishing Colt's and Jody's relationship and setting high stakes from the beginning with that stunt gone wrong.

This long shot shows you exactly what kind of movie you're gonna watch, and it's probably one of my favourite opening sequences in a movie ever.

This one is so perfect, too.

Jody trying to come up with answers for everyone, and keeping everything under control amuses me and stresses me out in equal messure.

And talking from the little personal experience I have, this sequence (and the whole movie for that matter) captures the work on set so accurately. It's truly amazing.

Long shots like this take so much time and effort to coordinate, and I just love, and appreciate it so much when movies do that. It's so impressive, and so fun to watch.

The prayer hands emoji.

Tom sending Colt nothing more than a prayer hands emoji because he just doesn't care about his well-being at all.

(I mean, he is in fact responsible for Colt's accident, so it's savage but not surprising.)

And then Colt giving that prick at his valet job the exact gesture because the guy acts like an asshole, and Colt couldn't care less about his crispy fiver.

Gold.

The script credits.

This is genius, and I love everything about it!

When you pause the movie and read everthing, you can see there are actual excerpts from the movie script, just a little modified, to fit the credits.

When I saw this for the first time it totally caught me by surprise, and now it is everything I never knew I needed.

This entire conversation.

Jody asking: "Did you fall?" is so ironic, I wanna scream.

Girl, of course he fell. FOR YOU!

And Colt is so high on whatever kind of drug they spiked his drink with, it's so endlessly funny to me.

Plus the way he just can't stop himself from telling Jody how beautiful she is over and over again, while completely ignoring her concern about his wounds.

Not to mention the extended version of this with that sponge bath discussion.

(Haven't seen the extendet cut yet but saw the scene on YouTube a milion times. I die everytime for multiple reasons.)

I could watch a whole movie of them just having a conversation like this.

Bonus:

Everytime I watch this I end up questioning my sanity, cause I feel like he spontaneously gets me pregnant with whatever it is he does here.

Every. Single. Time.

The way his eyes move from her eyes to her lips?

How Jody didn't just lose her mind, and all ability to breathe right then and there is beyond me.

Split Screen.

Another conversation that is just perfect in it's entirety.

The split screen opening exactly on the middle line of that shelf in the backround is satisfying me in a way that should put me in a mental facility.

Colt and Jody being so in sync and mirroring each other during this whole conversation, even after being apart for like 18 months is so special to me.

Colt knowing her favourite movies?

Their love for each other really is a different kind of epic.

The music matching the movie.

This is pure perfection, and I will never shut up about it.

The bottle equals the promise.

The container is turning around in an uncontrollable spin.

Also:

The Song "Dead Guy On Ice" from the original soundtrack is playing right when Colt says this to Gail on the phone.

Also, also:

"I was made for loving you" being woven into so many songs of the original soundtrack, and returning over and over throughout the whole movie in different ways.

It gives me James Bond vibes, and that just makes my heart smile.

I could go on and on about how much joy this sparks in me, everytime I watch the movie. It never fails to make me smile.

Jean Claude.

Nothing to add here, he's such a bon garçon.

Also, the fact that Colt and Jody just keep him after the happenings of the film, is probably my favourite thing ever.

(And I never knew I needed to hear Ryan Gosling speak french, but apparently it's something my body and soul desired very much.)

The post-it notes.

I am OBSESSED with this. Literally the most relatable thing about Tom Ryder. I love using post-it notes for all kinds of stuff when my brain gets overwhelmed, so this is just too real.

"FIRE MASSUSE"

"PRETEND YOU WENT TO JULLIARD"

"next role: paramedic vampire"

"is it MOMOA or MAMOA"

These are cracking me up so hard, I can't.

The cockroach story.

This seriously isn't talked about enough.

Right when I thought I couldn't fall any deeper for Colt's and Jody's relationship, they hit me with this.

Just imagine Colt on all fours, trying to usher that coakroach out of the room, while Jody just sits on the bed, telling him to get it done because she wants to start their movie night.

The domesticity this story implies is killing me in the best way possible.

You're so uncoordinated.

Another thing we just don't talk about enough is this scene right at the beginning:

This is kinda blurry but he totally bumbs her head on that cabinet behind her, and all she does is laugh it off and tell him he's uncoordinated.

And I just love the thought of Colt being this super profesh stuntman, always double-checking everything to make sure it's safe to do the stunts and roll the cameras, but going back to being so adorably clumsy the second the adrenaline rush wears off.

I will never get over this.

That's my girl.

Colt reacting like this when Gail says "That's my girl." is everything to me.

It's so cute, and you know it's exactly what he thought as well, 'cause he is so freaking proud of Jody. It's just so perfect.

"You blew yourself up!"

Tom telling Colt he's supposed to be dead 'cause he blew himself up, then proceeding to blow himself up is amazing writing, and shows how much thought went into this whole thing.

This movie is so good at foreshadowing itself, and I can't get enough of it.

Bonus:

He gets three bars on his phone, and then there are three explosions errupting.

This is satisfying my brain on another level. I can't even put it into words.

Spicy margaritas

Yet another beautiful conversation, that comes full-circle in the end.

Just casually planning a trip to the beach in the middle of the film production chaos, I love that for them.

(The way Ryan says "spicy margarita" is a beautiful thing, that haunts my dreams in the best way possible.)

In conclusion

I love this movie with all my heart, and I could talk hours and hours about how amazing it is.

There's so much more I love about it, but it's just too much to fit it all in here, so these are just the small things that make it extra special for me.

Honerable mentions go to:

- Dan Tucker, master of movie quotes, and best friend Colt Seavers could ever ask for.

- Colt Seavers' coffee side quest.

- The movie lighting a Ryan Gosling sized fire under my ass, prompting me to forget about life, and get a new obsession.

[bi-bi-buckleys]

Here’s a quick fic I wrote when I was meant to be working. I refuse to accept this new version of Maddie the writers are trying to sell us. Posting before the episode airs so I can live in denial a little longer ❤️

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

Maddie had just walked out of her favorite local cafe with a modified version of her favorite latte (decafe, low fat sugar free vanilla, ugh) when she sees someone familiar sitting at one of the outdoor tables to her right.

“Tommy!”

Maddie forgot. Just for a second. Just for the split second it took her to say his name. Oh right. You’re not dating my brother anymore.

Oops.

Tommy looks at her like a deer in headlights. He recovers quickly enough and stands from the table.

“Hey, Maddie! How are you?” He’s trying to sound chipper, but after he hugs her she sees the sadness haunting his eyes.

“I’m doing well, how are you?”

“I’m….I’m ok.”

It’s a lie and they both know it.

“How’s Ev-Buck?”

“Heartbroken. Baking every time he thinks to call you. His fridge is packed.”

Tommy smiles sadly and Maddie feels a stab of guilt for telling her brother to move on. She thought Tommy left because he didn’t love Buck, but that’s not the feeling she’s getting right now.

“He asked me to move in with him. But he never said he loved me. He said he admired me.” Tommy blurts out like he hasn’t had a chance to really talk about it.

“Oh.” She didn’t know that part.

“Yeah. And the thing is, I love him. So much. I would love him to be my forever. He’s sweet, and funny, and smart, and ridiculous, and even covered in boils he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. He’s everything to me. But how can I commit to moving in with a man who asks me to move in because he admires me? Because what happens when he realizes he doesn’t love me the same way I love him? It wouldn’t just break my heart, Maddie: it would destroy it.”

Maddie can’t see through the tears in her eyes. She’s never heard anyone talk so earnestly about loving her little brother before. She can tell Tommy really means it. He broke both of their hearts that night.

“Sometimes my brother thinks that by saying one thing, the other thing is implied. He gets ahead of himself. I’m sure you’ve noticed that, for as smart as he is, his train of thought can be kinda all over the place.”

Tommy laughs, but it's sad and full of just how much he misses Buck.

“He says he can see a future with you, and I’ve never heard him say that before. He also said your happiness is as important to him as his own. Tommy, he wants to call you so bad but he’s terrified of you turning him down again. He’s been hurt before, but I’ve never seen him this miserable. You should talk to him. I’m not saying move in with him, but I think you should hear what he has to say. And I think you should believe him.”

“Is he working right now?”

“Nope. Last I heard he was making a pineapple upside down bundt cake.”

“Wow.”

“I know. Seriously, his fridge is packed. It’s concerning.”

“Thanks, Maddie. I’m gonna go talk to him.”

Maddie gives him a hug and watches as he practically runs to his car. She laughs and wipes the tears from her eyes. She starts to think that maybe the universe did give her brother his special person after all.

~~~

Later she gets a call

“So you talked to Tommy?” Buck whispers.

“I did. I told him to talk to you.”

“What happened to ‘move on’?”

“That was before he told me all the things he loves about you and that ‘even covered in boils, he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Buck gives a small laugh, and she can tell he’s blushing. “He uh, h-he really said that?”

“Yes he did. Word for word. So, did you talk?”

“Yeah we uh- we talked. For a long time. About everything.” His voice was even quieter now, but she could hear his happiness.

She knows the answer before she asks, “Why are you whispering?”

“Because Tommy’s asleep next to me.” Maddie can practically see the smile on his face.

“I’ll let you get some sleep, too then.”

“Yeah, I think I probably should,” Buck laughs and Maddie rolls her eyes at the wink wink tone of his voice.

“Goodnight, Evan.”

“Night, Maddie. Oh, uh hey…thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

After they hang up, Maddie can’t stop smiling. Knowing her brother is happy and loved by someone who was willing to put his heart on the line for him. Someone who loves him so much it scares him. Someone who realizes what he walked away from, and went back despite knowing it could end in pain.

Yeah. She’s pretty certain Tommy is Buck’s special person.

[devilart2199-aibi]

I know I already said this prior to you, but I adore your Stunticon designs so much and feel an absolute rush of joy when I see you post art of any of them. I yearn for more information on your AU versions of them, and what happens to them all when they get to earth.

Where does Dead End go when he helps Breakdown, where do Motormaster, Drag Strip and Wildrider go after the split up in the team and how do they all handle it? They're all connected through the gestalt bond, which makes a gestalt closer than any other cybertronians, and how do they handle Motormaster hurting Breakdown, and then losing two of their own?

Does Motormaster ever regret what he did to Breakdown?

Thank you again! Hearing your interest in my AU really does make me so happy!! 🥺💕 So feel free to ask away! I've been pretty busy recently so I haven't had any time to work on the au sadly. But let's answer some questions now! With some drawings!! >:3

Also long post warning! !

"Where does Dead End go when he helps Breakdown?"

In short, undecided atm! But this is what happened if he was planning to leave with Breakdown:

Dead End and Breakdown agreed on a meeting spot a bit outside the Stunticons base. But when Breakdown doesn't show up for a long while, Dead End figured he got cold feet and began heading back to base only to get a coms transmission from MotorMaster telling him to meet up with Dragstrip and Wild Rider who are currently in pursuit of Breakdown!

Dead End would be wayyyy behind the others and only end up catching a glimpse of Breakdown and Knockout being apprehended by the Autobots, the other Stunticons long gone.

Dead End wasn't really sure what he would do now. It seemed like the others didn't know he wanted out like Breakdown. But what if they did? Does he risk it and go back? What was he going to do if the plan had gone smoothly even?

Well... he hadn't really got that far. He just knew he was tired, and Breakdown suggested an out. But joining another group of hot-headed 'Cons? Really?? He needed something different... maybe just... roaming around earth would be fun? It definitely has to be calmer than anything he's experienced the past few Megacycles.

For Dead End, since I wasn't sure if I would have him leave with Breakdown or not, I hadn't chose a story for him yet, though i did have a few ideas in mind.

"Where do MotorMaster, Dragstrip and Wild Rider go after the split up in the team and how do they handle it?"

They probably wouldn't go far, maybe just relocate their base. The remaining team would stick together for the most part. They're still the Stunticons, just... less.

MotorMaster would become hell-bent on getting the two back one way or another... or maybe even making them pay for such treachery to their team.

"How do they handle MotorMaster hurting Breakdown, and then losing two of their own?"

They were used to MM's intimidation techniques to get them back in line, but nothing like this. Sure he'd give 'em a good toss, smack or yelling at, but this, this was something else.

For Dragstrip he'd think to himself "What did Breakdown think would happen if he told MM him off and ditched the team? What a fool" as a kind of way to make sense of the situation. He'd definitely stand a bit further from MM than before.

As for Wild Rider, he loved a good fight. Heck he didn't mind killing a few bots! But never each other. He got an uneasy feeling from the whole thing.

For Dead End, they always remember him voicing his annoyance and tiredness with everything, but they never actually thought he'd do anything about it.

"Does MotorMaster ever regret what he did to Breakdown?"

Sadly not. He probably only regrets not being able to see Breakdown's desire to leave sooner. Not that he'd know what he'd do then.

And I think that was it? Thanks again for the questions and curiosity towards my au!! :3

[floating-mid-air]

Safe and Sound

-

Fun Fact: Future Trunks was my first love as a kid, so it's nice to finally write something with him in it. This is also a bit shorter than my usual fic length, but I'm happy with how it turned out. As always, DM's/Comments are always open if you have any comments, questions, or concerns. 

-

Masterlist

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Paring: Future Trunks X F Reader

-

You slide the glass door open, stepping out onto the balcony. The crisp air of the night sends chills down your spine. Gently, you shut the door, not wanting to wake Trunks. You lean over the wooden railing, taking a deep breath, the fresh air invading your lungs. It's been a long day�� a constant string of lengthy, neverending days. Bleeding into even worse nights.

You shift your gaze upwards, staring at the night sky. Small amounts of light illuminate from the stars, with no moon in sight. You weren't able to sleep. You never can, tossing and turning for hours before coming outside. Nights are just always the worst. Nothing is worse than absolute silence, with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company. 

Your heart flutters, your entire body growing stiff, as a loud creak comes from behind. Your body enters fight or flight mode, and in a split second, you instinctively press a button on your watch. A gun materializes from it, appearing in your hands. You aim it straight at the figure's head. "Woah, easy there." A familiar voice invades your ears. You immediately recognize the man standing in front of you as Trunks, his blue hair tousled, giving him a charming case of bedhead. Trunks holds up his hands. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

You sigh in relief, slowly bringing the gun down. Your hands tremble with every movement. "Fuck… sorry." You call out faintly, pressing the button once again. The weapon disappears from your hands. He takes a few steps towards you till he's standing right by your side. "Did I wake you?"

"No, not exactly." The blue-haired man shakes his head. "I just… can't sleep when you're not beside me." You turn to him, taking in his features. His blue eyes lack their typical shine, with notable bags under them. It looks like he hasn't slept in weeks. Your relationship with Trunks is complicated. You've never really had the time or the luxury to define it. Sometimes, you feel like a couple… other times, you feel like strangers. And yet, every night, you're beside him. Whether you sleep or not.

 "Rationally, I know we're not in danger," You mutter, turning back to the scenery. "But… every time I close my eyes. I see it. I see… him. It's like he's haunting me."

Trunks places his larger hand atop of yours, gently stroking it with his thumb. "I know what you mean. I get jumpy every time Goku's in the room." There's something about his touch that puts you at ease. Even the simplest gesture can calm your mind. He somehow always knows exactly what you need. You tilt your head, resting it on his broad shoulder. "We're timelines away. You're safe. We're safe."

"I know…" You speak softly, leaning on him. "It just feels like we can never catch a break. Things are too quiet; it's unnerving. There's this small voice in my head that won't shut up. Everything is just too… good."

"We deserve good. After everything we've been through." He intertwines his hand with your own, his long fingers tangling with yours. "There's been so many days… where I didn't think I'd wake up the next. I'm not sure if there will ever be a day when I'm not on edge. I know it's hard… but we can finally breathe for once."

"I don't know if I can. I feel like I'm always looking over my shoulder. Just waiting for the next awful thing to happen." You take a deep breath. "Though, there is one thing that makes me happy here."

"Yeah?" His eyebrows shoot up, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "What's that?"

"Well, it's us. Well, technically, not us. But the younger versions of ourselves." There's a piece of you that envies your younger counterparts. But it's greatly outshined by the comfort you find in it. They get to have the childhood you never had. "They're just so happy and carefree."

"I know what you mean. They get to have the lives we never had the chance to live." He laughs. "Though, they don't seem to like each other much." You've noticed that, too. The pair do not get along at all. You've seen them interact a handful of times. Little Trunks usually sticks to Goten like glue. Opting to stay away from the younger you. 

Several times, you've watched the miniature versions of yourselves fighting. Both physically and verbally. You'll never forget the looks on their faces when they found out that you and Trunks are kind of an item. They were appalled; it was hard for the kids to understand how any version of themselves could end up together. You, however, find all of their interactions adorable. But at the same time, it's a bit strange. It's like watching yourself... but it's an entirely different version of you. You see bits and pieces of yourself in her, but it's also like she's a completely different person. She looks like you did; she sounds like you did, but she hasn't had to grow up fast like you did. So maybe that's where the discrepancies stem from.

"Well, yeah," You grin. "The whole apocalyptic society made you so much less annoying."

He lightly swats your arm. "You're such a jerk," you giggle at his words. "But you're my jerk." 

"Ya… I guess I am." You sigh. Trunks is your rock. He's your stability. You haven't had a home in a long time… but your home is with Trunks. Whether it's a destroyed society or an alternative timeline. He's all you need.

"Hey..." He calls out to you softly. "Talk to me. I wanna know what's going on in that gorgeous head of yours."

"It's just. I wanna be carefree like that." You squeeze his hand, desperate to feel him closer. "I don't want to have to fear for my life... or yours ever again. First, it was the androids. And now it's that monster. It feels like it'll never end. Even if Goku and your father help us and take down Black. It feels like there will be something else around the corner."

"Hey, listen to me," he whispers, cupping your face with his hands. The warmth of his hands envelops your cheeks. "We're safe. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You mean way too much to me. Everything I do. It's all for you… for us… for our future."

"You see a future with me?" Your eyes widen. 

"Are you serious? That's not even a question." The man scoffs at you. "I want you. I want to spend my entire life with you. And even after that. You're all I need."

"Trunks..." You breathly call out, your voice barely a whisper.

"I'm not done." He cuts you off. "I love you. And don't you ever forget that."

His words ignite a fire within you, filling your body with a warm sensation that causes your face to burn hot. "I... I love you too." Before you even know it, you're returning his affection. You know things will get better. As long as you have Trunks by your side. The first step to recovery for you is a sense of safety. And here in this moment, with Trunks by your side. You've never felt safer.

"Come on." He grabs your hand, pulling you back towards the door. "Let's get back to bed. We both need some sleep." He leads you back inside, straight to the bed. Maybe, for once, you'll actually get some much-needed sleep. 

[lennadanvers]

Tsar Bomba*

Johnny Soap MacTavish x Reader

A/N: This is just angst. I wrote it quite some time ago, but I guess it's time I post it. I'm not sure if I really like it, but at least it has a cool name lol. It may or may not have a part 2. The ending I have in mind is not happy, either way. Other than that, I guess the only TWs are mention of past trauma, mentions of a narcissistic father, past narcissistic abuse, and just Johnny fucking up. If I missed anything, please let me know and I'll add it.

*Tsar Bomba: Soviet thermonuclear bomb that was detonated in a test over Novaya Zemlya island in the Arctic Ocean on October 30, 1961. The largest nuclear weapon ever set off, it produced the most powerful human-made explosion ever recorded. (Amy Tikkanen, Encyclopaedia Britannica, 2024)

Soap is an asshole. A complete and utter idiot, with zero regards for other people and their feelings. A stupid pile of scottish-

“Aren’t you gonna go after’er?”

When Ghost is giving you relationship advice, you know it’s bad. Not like Johnny didn’t know that before Simon asked one of the most useless questions he’s heard. Which is to say something, because even he's asking himself that same question.

Am I not gonna run after her?

Of course, the question doesn’t come alone. It implies many others, each of them a punch to the guts.

Should I? Does she want me to? Would it change anything? Do I deserve to drag this any longer? Why would she want me to be with her? Is she even capable of forgiving me? Am I? How could I do it? Why am I so stubborn? Why couldn’t I just do as she said just this once?

Truth be told, most of the questions are accusations. Guilt. Johnny doesn’t fight them. On the contrary, he sides with the feeling in an absurd display of a split personality. One part of him punches, kicks and bites (sadly, in his head he doesn’t carry any guns… Which is, now that he thinks about it, okay, because he deserves a very long suffering); and the other bares the weakest parts of him: neck, belly, the way he’s always known he doesn’t deserve the love he needs… Both versions of him have red cheeks and wet eyelashes.

For the first time since he’s met you- but not the first in his life- Soap thinks he should die. The same way he knows any object he lets go of will fall to the ground, he should die. It’s the next logical step: he let go of you- more like threw your heart to the floor, the thought makes him flinch-, so now it comes the end. You ran out the door, and now…

Now you’re coming right back.

You’re stomping in his direction. You’re blushing, dark red cheeks and nose that he usually finds beautiful, but that right now look awful. Because it’s rage red, hurt red, indignation red;and it’s all directed to him. All provoked by him. Stupid, idiotic him. Asshole him.

Maybe it’ll help you, to yell exactly that at Soap. Even better, you’ll do it in front of Simon. His closest friend, his coworker, his superior… He deserves the humiliation. You deserve to inflict it. You deserve everything.

You stop where it’ll be clear you’re yelling at him, but not close enough for him to touch you- he wouldn’t dare, either way. Except you don’t yell. You just take a deep breath and clench your fists.

“I fucking told you, Soap.”, your voice is shaking, and so are you. And him, now that you didn’t call him Johnny, “I told you to not do that. I told you why I… Why he… I told you!”

You had told him. Twice. He even had asked about it the second time. “I don’t have a relationship with him. I haven’t spoken to him since I was in high school. I moved away as soon as I could, and I’m happy I did. He’s not in my life anymore”. You were so proud when you said that, that there wasn’t a place in your life for your father.

You give Simon a quick glance, and the man stares back at you. He’s not going to pretend he hasn’t been present for the whole interaction. He’s not going to pretend he isn’t listening to you. It clearly makes you uncomfortable, but Johnny is willing to let you know that Ghost will probably kick his ass after this- maybe it’ll help a little with the awkwardness.

Your voice sounds more like a growl when you keep talking.

“I said I never want to see him again! Why would you do that?! Why did you…! He knows where I live! He went to my fucking job, MacTavish!”

Your lips trembles. You’re breaking a little, and he doesn’t know what it is. Pain? Fury? Frustration? Betrayal? Fear? Whatever it is, you make it disappear with another deep breath.

Johnny is terrified. One deep breath and your whole face relaxed. Your eyes don’t look like they’re about to flood your cheeks anymore. It’s a mask that says nothing. You’ve closed off.

It’s a stab to his spine. He knows you used to do this. You used to cry in the bathroom, quietly, and come out like nothing happened. You used to not be able to let him know how you felt. It took you years to cry in front of him for the first time. To trust him. To learn that he was safe.

And he violated your trust.

“This is over. We are over. I warned you! You knew not to do this, the only thing I… I don’t… If you wanted to do it you should have said so, that way I wouldn’t have wasted… You had no fucking right, Soap! I fucking told you I hate him. He went to my apartment! He was there! Why would you…? You had no right!”

He opens his mouth. Doesn’t know what to say, though. Or, actually, he doesn’t know what he can say. Sorry? Not nearly enough. Not even a fraction of what he feels, and even less than a portion of what you deserve. Soap knows the only thing that would fix this, he can’t do: not having done it in the first place. Not tracking your father down. Not asking him to meet up. Not thinking he wasn’t that bad. Not telling him how good you’re doing, despite how proud Johnny was of you. He should have never asked him for his blessing to marry you.

But you don’t want to hear his silence any longer.

“Don’t! I don’t want to see you ever again. I hope you’re happy. You know him now, congratulations! Now you know everything. I bet he was so fucking nice with you. I bet he said he was so proud of me, even if I never treated him right, didn’t he?”

No, Soap is every opposite of happy. Yes, he said that. Yes, at the time he thought your father was nice. He wants to stab himself in the heart for thinking that. He knows that man was an awful parent to you- hell, he wasn’t even a parent.

But that was his mistake, wasn’t it? For Johnny MacTavish, family is the most important thing. Without family, nothing else is worth it. And seeing you celebrate birthdays and holidays only with friends, knowing your family was out there, far from you… He didn’t want that to happen in your wedding, too.

Key words: he and wedding. First mistake: it wasn’t about him. Fucking selfish asshole. Second mistake (this one was more of an idiotic fantasy that he didn’t deserve): wedding. Yes, maybe his father had asked his mother’s dad for her hand before proposing. And? Those were Johnny’s parents. Why in hell would you want him to ask someone else if it was okay for you to marry him?

“He does that! I’m not crazy... He’s- he's nice to other people! He’s manipulating you. And I’m not going to have that narcissistic bastard in my life. You and him can stay the fuck away from me! Even if you didn’t love me, there was no need to do it.”

Don’t love you? Soap wants to cry- his body is just frozen in place. He is a miserable person. All he does is love you. How did he manage to make you think otherwise? To make you feel otherwise? How did he dare do the only thing- the worst thing…?

Your head snaps violently in Simon’s direction, and Soap can almost see him bracing himself for what’s about to come. Which is an unnaturally calm and controlled voice.

“I’m sorry you had to see this, Simon. And I’m so sorry you have a friend who doesn’t understand boundaries or respect, at the very fucking least. I’ll put his stuff in a bag, and I’ll leave it with the doorman, in case you want to go get it for him. I’m sorry you got involved in this, I… I’m so sorry.”

There you are, apologizing again. Johnny was working on that with you. He had been for the past couple of years. But you’re doing it again, even though it is not your fault. It never is, and you’re always sorry, and he wishes he was dirt so at least you could step on him without feeling guilty. And he wants to rip his own heart out and hand it to you. He wants to use his stupid nails to scratch his stupid chest open, his stupid hands to break his fucking ribs and any other bone he can find in the way. He wants to crack his head open against the wall. He wants… It doesn’t matter what he wants.

Because you’re leaving.

You’re leaving, and you’re not crying. You’re so hurt that all the effort you did to open up, all these years working on learning how to be vulnerable, just disappeared. You’re back to the place you were when he met you. Except it’s worse now.

He made a mess. Johnny fucked you up.

For the millionth time today, he wants to die.

[ghostlygeto]

wish u were here | james wilson

pairing: james wilson x reader

warnings: you just gotta hear me out guys. whats it called when it isnt technically cheating but it feels like cheating (from both parties, not on each other), entirely self indulgent and selfship coded, wilson calls reader "birdie" (cringe idc), angst. based loosely on lips of an angel by hinder and glimpse of us by joji, thats all for now plz forgive me

word count: 1.4k

wilson rubbed his eyes, trying to wipe the sleep from them as he heard his phone vibrating on the nightstand next to him. the name lighting up his screen was yours, causing him to hurriedly grab his phone and press answer.

“hello?” his voice was tired, still laced with the deep sleep he was pulled from for this phone call. “y/n, you know it’s almost three in the morning, right?” wilson slowly removed the covers from his legs, trying his best not to wake his fiance sleeping next to him.

“james,” the soft exhale of his name made his heart ache. how long had it been since you last spoke? “sorry, i know it’s late. it’s probably stupid to call you i just…” the small sob caught him off guard.

“are you crying?” wilson closed the bathroom door, still keeping his voice down just in case. “is everything okay?”

there was a hesitation on the other end of the phone and he could feel it. you were trying to find a way around telling him the truth. “birdie, you know you can trust me.”

birdie. that godawful, stupid nickname you used to hate. you used to roll your eyes every time he’d use it to get your attention, or let it slip in conversation with your friends and coworkers. but now it just made another cry escape your lips. you missed it, you missed him.

“just miss you,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice down as well. “we’ve been fighting a lot lately. and you were in my dream last night- it just felt right to call you.”

wilson sighed. he was relieved to hear that you were okay, his heart rate steadying. though he couldn’t help the annoyed feeling that overtook him as you mentioned your current boyfriend. “i’m glad you’re safe, but you know you really shouldn’t have-”

“can we save the lecture for another time, james?” you let out a shaky laugh. you don’t know what else you expected from him, “i just wanted to hear your voice.”

his free hand ran over his face, trying to rationalize it in his head. it would be okay if he spoke to you, right? just speaking on the phone isn’t wrong, and it wouldn’t hurt anyone. right?

“i can stay on for a little bit. but not too long, if she were to find out i’m on the phone with you it’ll just cause a fight.” wilson sat on the cool tile of his bathroom floor, back against the door. his eyes closed as he listened to the sound of your voice through the phone. “do you need to talk about the fights?”

“it hasn’t been anything serious. it just seems like he’s always angry, i can never win with him.” you sigh, “maybe i’m just too busy comparing him to you all the time. i know i shouldn’t. but it’s hard not to.”

wilson wanted to provide you some sort of comfort, let you know that he often did the same with his fiance. “have you still been going to therapy?”

“yeah.” you answer quickly, remembering how he urged you to talk to someone after you two split, because it would be good for you. “she doesn’t know much about my current partner, though. i don’t like to talk about him.” i don’t love him. you wanted to say, but bit your tongue. you weren’t sure if that would help or hurt anything. probably hurt, if you had to guess.

“if you don’t tell her how is she supposed to help you?” you hadn’t changed a bit, and that made his heart ache. you were the exact same version of yourself that he was in love with. knowing that makes leaving you less justifiable, it makes getting over you harder. “you have to cooperate with her.”

“can you tell me about how you’ve been?” you asked, a sniffle following. “is she nice to you?” you didn’t want to talk about yourself, not really. especially not about what you have or haven’t been talking about in therapy. 

right, the two of you hadn’t spoken since breaking up. despite working at the same hospital, the two of you managed very easily to avoid each other. afterall, the morgue and the oncology department weren’t exactly wall neighbors.

“yeah, yeah she is nice to me.” wilson nodded, a small smile finding its way to his face. he loves his fiance, she’s an amazing woman. she surprises him and makes him dinner, likes watching his favorite shows with him. but… “but she isn’t you.”

you weren’t aware that four words could change your mood so quickly, feeling your stomach fill with warmth and you heart beat quickened. it was nice, in a fucked up way, to know that he missed you as much as you missed him.

“it’s frustrating,” wilson added, “seems like everytime we’re having a good moment i just think of you. wondering to myself if i would be enjoying it more if it were you.” it felt nice to say out loud, like it was a secret he had been keeping for a long time (it was). “sometimes i think she knows.”

“sometimes he does things you used to do and i swear it’s like i can see you standing there instead of him.” you confess, tears still falling down your face despite the smile. “i’m glad she treats you well. it’s what you deserve.”

what he deserves is a death sentence. he internally scolded himself, knowing that he shouldn’t be doing this. he shouldn’t be on the phone with you after not speaking for a year and a half. he was supposed to be getting married this time next year. yet here he was, sitting on his bathroom floor and talking with you, his ex on the phone at half past three in the morning.

“you deserve someone who is going to make you happy, too, y/n.” wilson swallowed harshly. why did he so badly want to be the one to make you happy? why did he feel so bothered over the thought of it being someone that isn’t him? “you should just…just dump that asshole. you know you could do better.”

you wanted to laugh. he was right, of course you could do better. “honestly when i break up with him i think it’ll be my last for awhile. i’m…tired of putting effort into people who don’t do the same.”

he wasn’t sure how many people you had seen since he broke things off with you, he had intentionally avoided that information from house because he didn’t want to know. it didn’t matter if it had been only one or several, he knew he’d hate it either way. “you can’t think like that. then you’ll never find anyone.” encouraging you to find someone else. that was the right thing to be doing here. encouraging you to seek comfort in someone that wasn’t him, or your piece of shit boyfriend. “you’ve always been so pessimistic, just try to look on the bright side of things for once, yeah?”

“you answering the phone is the only bright side i think i’ve had for awhile,” you confess with a laugh and another sniffle. you weren’t sure when you stopped crying but you were thankful you had, already feeling the headache it would bring on. “do you think we can ever be friends again?”

wilson stiffened. yes. he wanted to tell you. but he wasn’t sure that was the right answer. “i don’t know, y/n. there’s a lot that would have to happen for us to be able to be friends again.” i’d have to get over you. 

“i knew that’s what you were going to say,” you gave a lighthearted chuckle. “i should…get off of here now. it’s late. we work in the morning. goodnight, james. it was nice talking to you.”

“you, too, y/n. goodnight.” wilson listened to the call disconnect as he let his phone clatter to the ground. it had been so long, he had been doing so well not thinking of you until tonight. all it took was one little phone call for you to worm your way back into his heart.

or rather, it only took one phone call for him to remember why he never should have let you go to begin with.

i rly am amazed that im posting this in 2023 but he is literally the love of my life right now. comments, reblogs, and likes appreciated!

[akookminsupporter]

Namjoon gave a good interview to Vogue Spain and in it he said a few things that I thought I'd share with those of you who may not understand Spanish.

This was at the end of the article but I want to write it first:

One thing that needs to be made clear about this album is that, no matter how much the rumour mill is trying to spin it, it is by no means the end of the successful band. "Oh, I'm not leaving BTS. Absolutely not. This is the first time I'm launching a solo project like this, so I'm trying to stand up and take my first steps. But I'm ambitious and I have willpower. So I don't want to miss the opportunity to do both. So I will try my best not to lose control and steer these two ships at the same time. A lot of bands split up and fall apart, but I hope that doesn't happen to BTS. I just love the music, I love my job, I love the band members and I love myself. If I can keep both projects going, I think it can be something legendary in the long run".

Other important parts of the article:

"The k-pop industry hasn't stopped growing since we debuted with BTS [in 2013]. It's become a lot more complex and has brought a lot more people into its structures. I think there are a lot of lights, but also some slippery shadows. Many of us started our careers very early as a group: we slept and lived together as teenagers. We became a real family, which is great, but this culture has also affected me a lot, because sometimes I find it difficult to be treated as an adult who has autonomy in his decisions. I'm perceived as just another cog in the crew, in the context of a mass phenomenon",

Did you ever feel like you were getting completely lost in this delirium of success? "I used to think so, but the funny thing is that I am fully aware that it was my own choice to devote myself to the k-pop industry. Nobody pushed me into it. But yes, I have lost myself at times. Although perhaps saying this is an excess of 'self-empathy'. There is no answer. Except that, if k-pop is about recharging the batteries of a mass audience and I'm responsible for doing that recharging, then I have to keep my feet firmly on the ground. As an adult, as a musician and as a human being. And these ten years of my career have helped me define who I am and learn to love myself. But I'm still in that process, you know? All these internal struggles will be recorded on records and videos," he explains.

"Music is really necessary for the world, but, when it comes to my music, sometimes I feel like I'm producing something unnecessary. If I were to die tonight, I don't think anything would change. It might matter to some people for a while, but a farmer or a street sweeper is more relevant to the functioning of society. When I ask myself about the role of our generation in historical terms, when I look at all the digital platforms and communities out there, I am overcome with confusion. There are a lot of people who don't want to think. They have frenetic lives and turn to music or television to escape, so the last thing they want is someone trying to lecture them from a pedestal. In that context, I wonder how I can make my music matter. I haven't found an answer yet, but I keep trying to bring my own perspective to it.

As to whether he is afraid that the army he has on Instagram (42.4 million followers) might one day turn against him for a silly mistake or a blunder, RM answers bluntly. "Yes, it scares me. It scares me 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. When I was younger I tried to come across as a cool guy who doesn't give a shit what other people think, but I don't think that's right anymore. I care about the publicity dimension of my career and the influence I can have on others. It stresses me out, yes, but I think I can handle it. That's why I don't retire or do things like go out and drink the night away and then drive drunk. I'm human, I can make mistakes, but I will do everything in my power to be the best version of myself. One of the keys is to treat this job for what it is: a job. I don't think artists have any special rights or status.

Note: if you would like me to translate another part of the interview, let me know.

[inukag-archive]

do you know any nsfw stories that are set immediately after kagome comes back after the 3 years? It can be a chaptered story or oneshot

Thank you!!!

superpyku asked:

Hello, I love a good post-canon fanfic where it describes what happened when Kagome came back from the well. Doesn't need to be a long fic about their life thereafter but one about what happened during and immediately after their reunion will be good. Would love to know your fav list of such. Thank you

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We love a good reunion fic! The list below is full of stories that take place right as Kagome returns to the Feudal Era and immediately after, split into NSFW and SFW for whatever mood you're looking for. There are a lot of fics like this out there, but we capped ourselves at 20 to keep the list at a reasonable length. Feel free to add your favorites in the reblogs/replies!

If you're looking for more post-canon goodness, you can also check out our other post canon lists:

Post Canon

Post Canon NSFW

Post Canon / Canon Fluff

Happy reading!

[NSFW]

Dearest by @kitramune (M)

After Kagome returns to the Sengoku Era, Inuyasha and she explore how deep their devotion really goes.

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Linked by Alyxandra (E)

Inuyasha and Kagome experience their first night together three years after the disappearance of Shikon no Tama.

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When She Comes Back by Karaumea (M)

The story of his wait, her return, and their reunion. One-shot lemon that takes place during and after the last chapter of the manga.

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Her Time by @keichanz (M)

All he wanted was some of her time, but as it turned out, so did everybody else. He'd have to make it clear that while they merely borrowed her precious time, he stole and hoarded it for himself, because in the end, she and everything about her belonged to him.

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The Return by Sweet Inu Girl (M)

Kagome has returned to the feudal era after three years. Finally feelings are revealed and a new life begins for our favorite miko and hanyou.

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Coming Home by @ruddcatha (E)

The day Kagome returned to the Feudal Era, Kagome and Inuyasha came out of their long nightmares. When they are finally alone, confessions are made, feelings are revealed, and a decision is made that impacts the rest of their lives.

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After the End: New Beginnings by @splendentgoddess (X)

Welcome to my official post-manga universe! This introductory story takes us through Kagome's return to the past, and her developing relationship with Inuyasha. The first installment of what will be my "After The End" series!

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To Fight For Tomorrow by @sarah-writes-stories (E)

The shard hunt...the battle with Naraku...it was only the beginning.

Their past held a terrible prophecy. Her future, the terrifying result. Kagome had finally been allowed to return through the well...but it wasn't luck that granted her wish.

The red threads of fate had always tied them all together, had always guided them towards each other. Now, as new powers are revealed and souls are healed, their destiny becomes clear.

Theirs is a quest that requires everything they have to give.

Theirs is a battle they cannot afford to lose.

Theirs is a fight to protect tomorrow.

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Come Back To Me by jyvonne13 (M)

After defeating Naraku, Inuyasha and Kagome were separated for three long years after the well closed. What happens on that fateful day when Inuyasha catches her scent after so long? What do the two of them promise each other and how do their lives change from this point on?

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With You by Animetey (E)

“Kagome, did you come back to see me... and to be a priestess? Cause I thought...or, I’d hoped... that you came back to be with me.”

Everyone has their own version of what happened the night Kagome returned, this is mine.

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[SFW]

White Dogs on Blue Cotton by @artistefish (T)

Caught up in the rush following her unexpected return to the past and to the man she loves, Kagome realizes a little late that some of her wardrobe choices aren't quite as private as they used to be. Post-canon, InuKag reunion, super-duper fluffy.

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Hearts Returned by @mrfeenysmustache (M)

A sweet moment alone after a long day of welcome backs.

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Love Language by @shikonstar (T)

When Kagome returns to the past, a love-starved hanyou is hoping for some words of affirmation.

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One Day With You by @hanmajoerin (G)

After spending three years in the world she grew up in, Kagome is able to return home.

A three years later reunion fic.

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Inukag Fluff Week 2022 (Chapter 3: Hot Springs) by @inukagbot (T)

inuyasha is a thoughtful, soft little puppy who missed his girlfriend very much so he decides to do something nice for her like the Good Boyfriend he is. confessions ensue.

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Clashing Emotions by PureKagome (K)

Kagome has finally returned after her three year absence. And what is the first thing Inuyasha does? Screw up.

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Stay By My Side by PotatoButt (G)

Kagome finally gets to return to Inuyasha's time after three years.

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A Not So Modern Convenience by doggieearlover (T)

Post Manga Canon. Kagome is worried about InuYasha's happiness while he has the same concerns about her and tries to do something about it.

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Kagome's Got To Go by @ajoy3fanfics (NR)

The way Yuki and Suki saw it, this Kagome woman needed to go.

From the first day she came, they knew she was trouble. They had been playing a perfectly fun game of 'who can annoy uncle the most' (It was always Suki), when he suddenly stood up, passing them off to Shippo with a distant look in his eyes. Uncle was fast, there was no question about that, but unless there was a reason for him to be on high alert, he was downright lethargic. Still, Uncle Inuyasha needing space wasn't anything new, so it wasn't terribly worrisome that he took off at high speed; It did, however, raise a few red flags when Shippo shook them off and headed in the dog demons direction, screaming "it's her! She's back!"

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Snapshots of Life After the End by ananova (T)

A collection of post-canon after the anime and manga end interconnected drabbles that show bits of Inuyasha and Kagome's life together. Not posted in any particular order.

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Feel free to add your own recs in the comments or reblogs! Check our Masterlist of previous lists to see which topics we've covered.  After reviewing our submission guidelines, send us an ask (here).