#can’t believe it took me this long to make the connection LOL

[personinthepalace]

I just realize that these two have the same last name: Carlyle

[kithtaehyung]

minted: two (explicit) | myg

title: minted: two (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader series: one | masterlist rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , action ; haegeum au , gang au summary: after a whirlwind of a detour, you have second and third thoughts about the guy you saved. who even is this man? and what the hell is in that bag? note: holy shit, y’all. thank you so much for the love on this series already! it’s been a minute since we started a new series here, so nerves were firing on all cylinders. but you all showed out and gave me enormous relief and motivation to keep going, so thank you! note 2: as always, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: language, violence, weapons (guns), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, trauma/pstd, poor reader :(((, but also YES READER???, tension to the max, inner turmoil, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, yoongi visuals in this one areeee… a ha ha, did i mention tension?, tense situations, crass af yoongi lol, reader is also a baddie but who is shocked, slow burnnnn drop date: september 30th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.8k help me @ god

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There’s something to be said about the human gut. 

Not for being the source of multiple health aspects, nor the way it’s connected to the brain. 

But, other than when violence tears it to shreds, it can be quite the defense mechanism. Just like yours churns and churns with each mechanical click of the elevator shaft.

Who is this person next to you? 

Who exactly did you decide to follow upstairs hours ago, killing your daily life to save and join on the run? 

You don’t know if you release your hand or if Yoongi lets it fall, but you take this unlinking to create space. As you slide your gaze toward your companion, he merely shifts his weight and finds interest in increasing, beeping numbers.

How can someone’s profile be so troublingly handsome? You’d be able to think more clearly if he wasn’t both attractive and dangerous. Or if you simply weren’t on the verge of collapse.

Frankly, if you didn’t just murder a man you’d pass out as soon as you took too long to blink. 

To keep yourself alert—and to hopefully gather some much needed intel—you suddenly question aloud, “Where are we?”

No answer.

Alright.

“That driver called you Agust,” you recap on a second go. “What was that about?”

All Yoongi does is stare at his reflection in opulent, dim mirrored walls. Or whatever else he’s doing besides talking. 

Okay. Well.

You can face forward, too. 

“Those guys after us,” you try a third time, because who are you to give up now even if he radiates annoyance. “They didn’t look like Crane.”

“Doesn’t mean they weren’t.”

Your neck almost snaps when you turn. “Are you kidding me?”

As you watch Yoongi scorn the ceiling again, you can’t believe he doesn’t agree. 

Mm. Does he?

From the flex of his jaw, you have to assume you’re right to some degree. Because it looks like he’s very, very bothered by the people that chased you down. 

If those weren’t any of the high-powers but had equal resources and numbers…

What the hell were they? Where did they even come from?

Geez, it’s freezing. Is a drop in temperature the best barrier to you making sense of things? You can’t even appreciate the way Yoongi’s veins protrude with every adjustment he makes to that mysterious duffle bag.

Lies. You absolutely can. But there’s no way in hell you’re ever complimenting that. Or anything about him anymore because he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you! 

Why did he even hold your hand? Was that just a ploy, too? 

But that taxi drive…

Yoongi looks down before lightly scuffing his shoe, and both of you fall silent as you finally give up with a huff. 

Massively dehydrated. Sore. Still covered in a myriad of unmentionables and now being ignored by the guy you saved. 

All you wanna do is go home, and you don’t even know where that is. 

How far did you travel? What district is this? You’ve never heard of a grey zone, but they seem fairly peaceful even at night. Neutral enough for you to consider relocating even if it meant sleeping on the street.

That brings up another question. “If we’re in a grey zone, how did you know—”

A ding interrupts your last thought, and you look to see where you ended up.

But the elevator doesn’t say a number. Only letters? What kinda floor did you stop on? 

One thing’s for sure, though. Whatever room you end up getting, if there’s only one bed you’re hogging it or taking the…

Floor…

There are many things that have shocked you in your lifetime. Many things just from today that had your head positively and forever reeling. 

But when the elevator doors slide open, you can’t even fathom what the fuck you’re dealing with. 

And in this second, more than ever, you understand how ludicrously out of your element you really are. 

“Holy shit,” you blurt, barely hearing the huff at your side.

Don’t elevators usually open up to hallways? Why are you walking into an entire living space? Is this a real place people choose to sleep in for a night? A whole floor?

Forget a whole floor, it’s a whole other place.

You slowly survey everything, wondering how much this has to be because you have never seen a living space so big. Or pretty. Or anything like this.

The ceilings vault and the furniture looks nothing like you’ve ever seen. Everything looks pristine. Clean. Is that a whole kitchen?

How are there living arrangements this big? This one place is bigger than your entire apartment level back home. 

And here you are: speechless, virtually homeless, and dragging your filth onto white marble floors. 

Perfect.

“What.” 

You turn at the scrape of Yoongi’s voice, wondering why now is when he finally chooses to acknowledge you. Head pounding, you ask outright, “Who… Who even are you? What is this place?”

He levels your stare before walking towards a long couch, dumping the duffle and raking his hair back in minted waves. “There’s a shower in every bedroom. Take your pick.” 

…Is that really his only response?

“That’s not what I asked,” you fire back, wondering what the hell his problem is so you can add more out of spite.

“But it’s what you need.”

“Say what now?” 

The fucking nerve? Even though you obviously, desperately need one, hearing him mention it makes you wanna re-use the chopsticks in your pocket. 

But Yoongi simply waves you off, grabbing a remote and flicking on a television so wide you would struggle to reach both ends. 

This is all too much. 

“You know what I need? To go home,” you huff out, leaving fire in your determined trek to the elevator. “Have a nice life, Yoongi. Or Agust. Whoever the fuck you are.” 

You get to the door and run into a dirt-slicked forearm. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.”

“You serious?”

“Yes, I am. So move.”

Yoongi pauses, jaw working overtime before he steps aside—wait he’s gonna let you go that easily? 

…Oh.

That was certainly not what you expected, but what else would you even think? This isn’t one of those stories that ends perfectly after trials and tribulations. Yoongi has proven more than once—in mere hours—that he’s no regular civilian. 

But despite that, you blink before freezing at a terrible realization. 

No matter how you slice it, you’re much better off with him right now than you are by yourself. Even if he is a secretive criminal with a smoking gun. 

He did keep you alive that whole chase.

But there’s the smallest, tiniest chance that you aren’t quite safe with him, either. You don’t even know who this man is anymore—maybe you never did.

So in a quick decision, you skim his side to slap the elevator button, chucking daggers at his brows until he leaves you to wait alone.

Good. You don’t need this. You can find your way back to your city block somehow and live the life you’ve chosen to lead again. 

Yes. You can do all of that by yourself. The chase is done. 

And so is your story with the man that will never buy your tangerines again. 

Grabbing your sleeve, a second fact stings your fingers. A jacket woven in Dragon teal. 

Shit. You need to ditch this, too. Either right now, or before you get the hell out of this grey zone because if you don’t, this is the biggest target you could ever have on your back. 

No good. No good no good you didn’t plan any of this well at all. Fucking pride blinding you to everything else logical. Is this how your story ends? Because of regret and resistance? 

You wait for the sliding doors, about to leave the biggest room you’ll ever see to occupy a box. How poetic. 

Your heart pounds as you close your eyes. Yoongi just cut you loose; it’s obvious he doesn’t care so why should you? No going back now. You’ll figure it out. The doors are finally opening. 

And someone’s inside?

Wait.

Your brain both whirrs and skids to a halt at the sight of the staff member occupying the elevator. When they give you a look, you find your hand drifting towards your back pocket.

Fucking hell, relax. You should be safe with a staff member, right? They wouldn’t be out to kill you. This is just your adrenaline on its haunches. 

However, one foot in the elevator and your senses go haywire. 

Because you can’t do this alone. You aren’t nearly as prepared to brave this foreign space as you need to be. With red in your hands and Dragon on your back? Absolutely not. 

You bow to the hotel staff before you face forward into the expanse. 

And as the doors start to close, you see Yoongi’s stare over his shoulder, storming with emotions you can’t name.

Yeah, you fucked up.

Fuck. 

Fuck you actually made a big mistake go back don’t let the elevator close shit—

As you lunge for the door, you get your arm through to block it from closing, turning to the employee inside and seeing their expression change. 

What was that about?

“Sorry,” you blurt to their pressed and polished grey uniform. “I forgot something inside.”

“I can wait, Miss,” they immediately offer, to which you politely and cautiously decline. 

“No need.” When you step out of the elevator, something happens that you think about hours and hours later. “I’ll come down when I’m ready, thank you.”

You can suddenly breathe again. Why was it so stuffy in there?

The worker bows stiff. “As you wish.” 

Without pause, you nod, waiting until the doors close to face someone turned away.

Ugh. It’s like Yoongi knew you weren’t gonna leave. Either that, or he really didn’t give a crap about what you did at all.

Either way, fuck this guy and fuck your indecisive ass!

In full aggravation, you march through the entrance before grating out, “You’re lucky I—”

“Shower.”

“What?”

“The blood,” he calmly breathes. “If you’re gonna hit the streets, wash it out.” 

“It isn’t mine.”

“I know.”

Your mouth snaps shut. 

Fuck. Yoongi’s right. 

“Okay. Well,” you scoff, “Good point but how can I trust you to not do anything.” 

When he tilts his head with a bored, unamused, borderline ticked off expression, you almost scoff before he drawls, 

“Not interested.” 

Oh. He’s… 

Oh. 

But the taxi and the hand-holding and the the the kiss what the hell? Was your liplock not up to this Dragon’s standards? Why are you questioning something so trivial? 

The nerve. You plunge your shoulders in exasperation, hating how you chose to put yourself in another situation with this pain in the ass and he isn’t even… “I swear to—You know what? Good. Not interested, either.”

A lie. 

Scrambling, your stomach speaks the next sentence for you, “But there better be food when I come out cus you robbed me of lunch today. So do something about that.” 

Fucking hell you do not need his lips to quirk up so deliciously. That one look completely offsets what he just said and annoyingly tickles your core. 

Stop. Focus. You cannot entertain any of those thoughts so ignore him and find a bedroom. 

Opening the first door you can see, you continue your tirade, “And no more stealing my chopsticks.”

“Closet.”

Of course it’s a closet! Shutting it with force, you let out a high curse. “Who needs a closet here? Whatever, just—figure it out, I’m starving.”

“Yes, princess.”

You flick Yoongi off as you blaze down the hall, not even knowing nor caring if he sees or not. 

The next door works, and you shut him out before falling back onto its weight, so fraught with emotion that you can’t even register the appearance of the room. 

Today has aged you multiple years. So much has transpired ever since this afternoon that you can’t even think in straight nor curved lines. As soon as you remember something, another thought juts between. Why are you simultaneously thinking about dingy, stained floors while agonizing over Yoongi’s lips? Is there a place other than hell or heaven you can settle on? 

As soon as you’re physically and mentally patched, you are out of here. 

The plan is simple. Shower, eat, give this man a piece of your manic mind, then go home.

Although… It would be nice to at least know what’s in that duffle. If it’s something worth taking you could finesse a piece of the loot. 

Swallowing dry, you push yourself off the door and finally notice a flood of ambient light. 

At your side, you come across an expansive bathroom, eyeing the wall-to-wall entrance before taking in the center shower with disdain and awe.

The whole setup is lavish. 

Does the water just fall straight from the ceiling and into that large square tub? This looks nothing like your cramped, chipped one back home. There’s even lush plants lining the area and towels already folded nearby for use. 

Maybe you did get killed on the run and you’re in some type of dreamworld. 

Too bad you aren’t alone.

As you drag tired feet onto heated tile, you search for the shower knobs, realizing you have a whole panel to work with instead. 

Uhh. 

What. 

You quickly find that one button blows water like a hose straight from the top, scaring you so bad you jump. When you hastily try another, something whirrs in the floor that has your brows kissing—

“You good?”

Fuck!

You flinch and hit the wall, groaning when you see Yoongi lazily resting against one side of the bathroom entrance. Both of your voices echo in the extravagant interior.

“You ever knock?”

“No.”

“Shocker.”

He walks up the tiny steps, and you’re more than relieved you’re still wearing his jacket. When he gets closer, you turn and face the panel, “I can figure it out.”

“Move.”

You get slightly displaced as he gets close, resting a hand on the wall while bending to operate the buttons. As you inhale his musk, you respond to his second question instead of his first. “What?”

“Is this fine,” he repeats, checking the settings before turning to the shower area.

Oh. Wow. It’s a lot more than fine.

A circle of rain falls into a beautifully lighted tub, steam wafting through the glow and coating your skin. 

You’re so entranced that you are quite literally left speechless. Skirting around your present company, you gaze up, down, silently observing the plants sway with the shower air. 

Strangely, this whole bathroom makes everything you’ve seen today believable because of the sheer wonder of it all. It’s almost enough to make you forget what you’ve done. 

Almost. 

When you pause, you see Yoongi watching your face from beyond the rainfall. And he looks so handsome, even now, not doing a thing. 

Is it because he’s clearly roughed up but still so poised? Very unlike you in your banged up, dirty state? 

Huffing, you fold your arms a little too harshly—out of jealousy or whatever else, who is to say. “I’m good now,” you proclaim, keeping your walls high. “I can do the rest myself.” 

Again with that little slant. 

Ignore him ignore him. If Yoongi keeps doing that, you’re really gonna have to brave the outside world instead of dying by smirk. A tub has never been so interesting in your life. 

“Suit yourself.”

You look up again.

But he’s already left you alone.

Solely to undress and contemplate what the hell he implied by that.

Why did you walk left today instead of right?

Under scorching rain in the middle of luxury, this is the question you repeat in your head. Watching all the burnt streams of your decision swirl, and swirl, and swirl. 

The blood will never wash out.

Does the price of saving a life have to be this high? It must be somewhat divine, being that in order to save, you took. If only there was another way to achieve that end goal. Though there’s no way to do it all over again to be sure.

Staring at four chopsticks on the ground, you try to assure yourself. You need to.

Because at least you succeeded. 

But will your price be more damning because of the one you saved? 

Rushing water mutes your hearing as it pours onto sore limbs. When you reach for the scrub for a third time, you make sure to really dig, scraping at every. Single. Inch. In a last attempt to cleanse yourself completely.

Knowing that even after the water runs clear, you still see nothing but red.

You chose left today.

If you had chosen right… 

Doesn’t matter. 

Your palm tingles.

Blood never really washes out.

Holy fuck, you don’t have clothes to change into.

Wrapping yourself in plush material, you hastily pad around freezing floors as you think of a plan.

You can’t just ask for them. How would Yoongi even have any for you? The jacket was more than enough borrowing for today and you’re in a hotel room, not his place.

Thank the universe.  

But the matter is pretty urgent. Because you’d rather burn your belongings before putting them on again. Which leaves zero clothing and a thousand issues. Fuck. 

Dragging feet to the massive sliding doors, you steel your resolve. Hoist your shields back upright. 

Because there’s no choice. You’re just gonna have to dread another conversation with this man. An embarrassing, awkward, unprecedented shit why is he in the bedroom!

You flinch backward as you slam the door closed. Peeking out, you gawk, “What the hell are you—?”

Did Yoongi just pocket a phone?

The duffle rests at his feet. 

Wait. Did he stay in here while you showered? Thank god you had the foresight to slide all the doors shut because you definitely spent a lot of your time scrubbing like mad or standing completely still. 

No. Yoongi’s hair is wet, so he did shower at some point. And he’s donning a robe, which is precisely what made you slam the door shut. 

How can he look like royalty wearing that? The material is quite lush and silken, but still plain. It makes no fucking sense and you wanna rip it right off—

Gathering yourself, you rush out, “Why are you in here?”

“You took too long.”

“So? That doesn’t—”

“In my shower.”

Wait. What? “Oh.” 

You slide the door open a little more to check his claim. And now that you finally see the room, you can tell it’s clearly been used already, clothes and bottles scattered about. “You said pick one.” 

“I did.” Yoongi turns to drop something onto a dark comforter. “Figured you picked it on purpose.”

“No, I… I didn’t notice the room.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says after a brief look your way. “Not sharing the bed, though.”

“No need,” you snip. “I’m leaving soon.” 

Motherfucker. Yoongi only regards his sheets with a smile that triggers your fight response. And you almost—almost—drop the towel. 

Speaking of. How are you even standing in his vicinity with only a single piece of cloth? Are you seriously that exhausted you didn’t even think twice about it?

Suddenly very, very aware of yourself, you squeak, “Umm.” He waits. “I don’t have any clothes.” 

“That’s what you get for kicking me out so quick.”

Your jaw hits the floor. “So what, I’m walking around with a towel? Are you out of your mind? If you think I’m some—”

“Fuck, relax,” he slowly groans to the ceiling. “I was gonna say there’s robes in the closet.” 

You snap your mouth closed so hard it jangles. “Then just say that!” And you slam the partition closed before fast walking to find them. 

Missing the way Yoongi huffs before staring hard at his bedroom door.

On your second arrival into his room, your steps and demeanor are a lot calmer. 

Is it because he’s a lot calmer, too? Maybe. Is it also because you smell food, realizing he did exactly what you wanted? Maybe more so. 

Noticing a table situated near balcony doors, you blink before regarding Yoongi’s sitting form on one of the chairs outside. 

A man lounging while smoking in a robe should not be this alluring. And yet, that’s the only word you can think of to describe him.  

Throat drying and aching, you slowly walk over and take a seat, already ravenous enough to dive into broth head first. But you eye Yoongi while retrieving new chopsticks, scowling when all he does is flash teeth through the glass.

Do not engage do not engage do not engage. 

Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your— 

“You’re really mad about that, huh.”

You snap your head up to see him leaning on the doorway. “I was hungry.”

“There was a cup of them on your table.”

“So why didn’t you grab those instead!” 

Yoongi ticks his brows before peering into the night. And he stays like that for awhile, letting a breeze lift his damp locks. “Didn’t expect to see you there,” he admits. “Gotta say you threw me off.”

Nu uh. No more heart skips for today. “I didn’t expect to see you, either,” you too choose to be honest. “Thought I’d never see you again.”

“You were going to.”

As curious brows furrow, you break your utensils apart. “Figured something happened.” Guess you’re being honest about a lot of things. “Or you found another tangerine girl.” 

Yoongi holds his look before taking a drag, smoke spiraling around his words, “Why were you even over there? You’re a bit far from Crane.”

You blink at his deflection.

What was that about? What is that look for? 

Holding his gaze because you aren’t done challenging him, you calmly answer, “I was shopping.”

“Shopping.”

“Mmhmm.” 

Falling silent, he observes a little longer before flicking ash off his cigarette. 

And just like that, the conversation dies. 

It’s for the best anyways. If Yoongi kept prying, he was gonna get closer to the truth. And you wanna slip around that as much as possible. 

But he keeps standing in the doorway, inked arm bending as he breathes in smoke. Donned in a dark robe and topped in teal, he suits Dragon perfectly. Way too perfectly. 

Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your noodles instead. 

Your noodles.

Your noodles. 

You’re not hungry anymore. 

Something horrid jams up your throat, and you run through your day in flashes. The restaurant. The food. Dragons. The chopsticks. The kill. The chase. Yoongi. The kill the kill the kill. 

Dirt and shouts and lifeless lips clog your hearing, and your grip loosens completely as your vision shakes and shakes why couldn’t Yoongi have gotten anything else why does it have to be—

A hand. 

A robed arm. 

Your new utensils come back into view. 

But when you face reality, you don’t see them put them back into your hand. You don’t even see them dug in your noodles and left there. 

Instead, you watch as Yoongi plants one palm on the table, slowly lifting strands from the bowl and staring right into your eyes, 

“Eat.” 

Words. Get them out. Something something communication. Key is communication. What the fuck is happening to your brain? 

“I can’t,” you finally croak out. “I’m not.. I’m not hungry.” 

“You are.” 

“Not anymore.” 

Nose scrunching, Yoongi suddenly drops the food and dumps himself on the chair nearest, stretching his leg and revealing a littering of scars. “Didn’t know you were fine with wasting food.” 

The icy descent of his tone freezes your bones.

“Thought you of all people would hate that.” 

“I—I’m not—It’s not that—”

“Then eat.” 

“I literally can’t—” 

“Water. Food. If you’re gonna waste all my shit, then leave.” 

“What?” 

Is he serious? You’re in the midst of post-traumatic shock and he can’t take the hint? You’re so appalled by this man that you can’t even think straight. 

“You heard me. Stop acting like you didn’t.” 

“Oh, I heard you,” you snap. “Just double-checking what the fuck you said.” 

“So you gonna leave or just sit there? If you’re staying I’ll just walk out the roo—”

“Don’t.” 

Both of you still at your words.

And you have to force your palms to unfurl on your quivering thighs. One knuckle. Another. Nails leave half-moons in your skin. 

Breath haphazard, you finally break. “Just,” you swallow, hard. “I’m not wasting it just give me a sec.” 

You don’t want to tell Yoongi why you want him to stay. Despite him being the most infuriating person you’ve ever met, it beats the alternative. And you don’t want the alternative. Truthfully, that’s another reason why you left the elevator earlier. 

Yoongi looks pissed as hell. 

But he hasn’t moved. 

And that’s enough to get you to pick up your chopsticks and try again. 

You stare. Stare. Stare. Mustering courage and inhaling all the aromas you indulged in just earlier today. 

Fuck, you wanna hurl. 

“You’re gonna have to get used to this.”

Your gaze snaps to his, brows and thoughts knitted in disbelief. “What?”

“This feeling.” Yoongi looks out the glass doors, hands resting on the arms of his chair. “The faster you do, the better.”

There’s no way he’s serious. Get used to it? What reason would you ever have for doing that? Caustic, you scoff, “Why, so I don’t waste more of your food?”

You’ve never seen someone laugh in a negative way. But he does before sliding his eyes over. “So when you have to do it again, you don’t lock the fuck up hours later.”

You shoot up from your chair, hellbent on oh fuck you stood up too fast. “You—”

Yoongi just watches as you grab the table for balance, wincing from the pangs in your head. Words grind through your teeth, unable to fully form beyond the light assaulting your brain.

“Like I said.”

Palms press against your forehead before you slump back into your chair. 

“It’s better in the long run.” 

Technically, he’s right. It’s better in the long run if you get used to this. 

But there’s no way you can do it again. Who does he think you are? Yoongi’s got to know that you aren’t planning on making this a daily habit. This isn’t you. You only killed to protect somebody. Killed to save the person telling you to basically get over it.

Fucking hell, this sucks.

Frustration and exhaustion sting the corners of your eyes. 

Eat. Build your strength and get the hell out of here. Deal with it deal with it deal with it.  

As you regrettably pick up your chopsticks, you don’t care if your tears season your noodles. And quite frankly, you don’t give a shit if Yoongi watches them fall, too. 

Because they’re liquid anger. Hot trails blazing down your face, hardening into sticky paths and dried rivers. 

“What were you looking for.” 

Your eyes slide up to regard him, his arms folded and brows low. Because of course he doesn’t care about your state, either. Of course he’d rather entertain his curiosity. “Nothing you need to know,” you mutter, banning him from knowing another truth. 

“Did you find it.” 

You swipe at both your eyes.

As spice coats your tongue, Yoongi keeps prying, “Something you needed to go all the way there for?” 

“Fuck off,” you dismiss, slurping and swallowing with ease. “I don’t have to answer you.” 

“You already are,” he responds, confident. “Now tell me. Is there one in particular you need?” 

Wait. You barely gave anything away, so how is Yoongi asking the right questions? There’s no way he actually knows what you were looking for. No way in hell.

This man is more dangerous than you thought. 

“Why do you even care,” is all you choose to say, more focused on your food now because above everything else, it’s quite fantastic. It somewhat reminds you of a past home, and you can’t help but escape to those distinct walls. “It’s irrelevant to you.”

“But I have what you want.” 

You take another bite before stilling, looking up to see Yoongi propping his head with roughed knuckles. “You’re lying,” you drawl to his smugness, trying to act as if he didn’t just figure you all the way out. Because he didn’t. There’s no way. “And I’m still leaving.”

“If you stay, I’ll show you.” 

When you leer over your soup, he simply stares back with no hint of emotion. 

And you’re so curious about what he means that you finish your whole bowl. 

When you push it forward, you understand exactly what Yoongi did. It worked perfectly, and you have to hand it to him even though he mangled your character minutes beforehand. “Thank you,” you offer some manners. “This was goo—”

The scrape of a chair cuts you off, and your sentence dies in midair as you watch your runaway partner vacate his seat. 

Good riddance.

He knows how to stay on your bad side, that’s for damn sure. 

But Yoongi simply heads back out to the balcony for another light. So you chalk up his swift exit to vices and not wanting to breathe your air. Or maybe he’s done with his fun and is already writing you off before you head out. 

Clearing your bowl from the table, you walk out of the bedroom and bring it to the large kitchen, noting with a scowl that it’s obnoxiously bigger than half your floorplan back home. 

Yearning pierces right through your chest. 

The elevator is right over there. 

You showered, you ate. You can leave as soon as you clean your dish.

Are you way too curious about what Yoongi’s gonna show you? Yes. But is that gonna stop you from getting out of here? No. 

Well. This robe is hugging your figure perfectly and feels way too comfortable to just use for an hour or so… Plus, if you ditched it now, Mister Morals will scorn you for wasting that away, too. 

How rude of him to assume that about you. Of course you aren’t wasteful. The only times you let things go are when you absolutely have to, like you should have back in that noodle shop instead of braving the back staircase. 

Scoffing to no one, you scrub your bowl in the sink, grunting explicatives and stabbing Yoongi with curses until you hear a distinct beep. 

Was that the elevator?

You cut the water off with a twist.

Cautiously, you make your way across the kitchen, peeking around the corner to appease your curiosity and spike your anxiety. 

A bellhop? Another grey uniform looking to and fro to survey the area. It’s the same person that sent a look of panic your way before you went up to the room. 

And your defense mechanism blares. 

But before you can hide behind the partition, their eyes lock onto yours. Arm outstretched, the staff is motioning for you to… join them? Why? 

You’re the one bunking with a gangster. Why does this person make you even more uncomfortable? This feeling is just like the one you had when you called the elevator the first time. Was your gut warning you then, too? 

Maybe it’s because you don’t like the staff thinking they can come in unannounced. Grey zone etiquette or not, you can’t see how this is ever appropriate. In fact, it poses so many safety concerns. How is this okay? 

Walking into the foyer, you rest a hand on a robed hip. “Can I help you?” 

“I’m the one trying to help you,” they whisper, harsh and with another swipe of their hand. “You have to get out while you can.” 

Wait. What do they mean while you can? “And why’s that?” 

Sputtering, the bellhop sticks one foot out the elevator while pleading and, for some reason, that pisses you all the way off. “There’s no time to—”

“Get. Your foot. Off my floor.” 

Is that fear in their eyes or surprise? “Oh, apologies. I didn’t realize you were… I thought—”

“Thought what?” Your arms fold, weight shifting to your other tired foot. “Speak up.” 

Frankly, you don’t know where this newfound energy is coming from. All you know is that there are certain things you still despise and this person is ticking all the boxes. 

“I thought you were taken, Miss. I’m here to save you.” 

Pausing, you grip your arms, feeling silk gather under your palms. 

There’s a lot you tolerate. Many things that a lot of people can’t. But someone assuming you’re the weak one that needs saving? There is no quicker way to lose your interest. 

Stepping towards the elevator, you unfurl your arms, robe swaying and billowing around your freshly showered legs. 

“Yes, that’s right. Come on, we can take you away.” 

Hand on the entrance, you lean forward. “You’re not taking me anywhere,” you command, finger pressing the button at your side. “And you aren’t coming back up here until I say so.” 

Slowly, the doors slide shut, your reflection two halves in the metal shine. 

Well. 

So much for leaving. 

You may spend more time here than you thought. 

With more thoughts swirling, you spin, heading back into the kitchen to pick up the same bowl you were washing. Hoping you and your gut made the right call. 

Yoongi’s a criminal and a madman. But he’s not… the worst. At least, not horrible enough to warrant someone coming up to steal you away.

Besides. Is Yoongi aware that staff can come and go as they please? He seems like the type of guy that would hate that. 

Staying vigilant seems to be a little more important now. 

It’s soon after, when you’re placing the dish somewhere to dry, that you hear noise in the living room beyond the countertop. Looking up, you see someone much more familiar enter the space. 

Hmm. Whatever’s in that duffle must be worth millions for Yoongi to lug it around everywhere. 

As he dumps it next to the couch again, you don’t choose to ask about it just yet. Only because you want to ease into it later when you’re both not at each other’s throats. And while you’re not reeling from another strange encounter at the elevator. 

So you go with a safer question instead, choosing not mention what just happened. “Is this whole floor… your place?”

Yoongi looks up. “Only when I need it to be.”

Interesting. “Does anyone else know about it—”

“Do you always ask this many questions?”

You blink. “I mean. I don’t get by selling fruit cus I’m quiet.”

“You’re quiet with me.”

“And even then I get you to talk.”

Yoongi frowns slightly before moving away, more towards the sliding door leading out to another outdoor area. 

God, this place is obnoxiously huge. There’s still a whole other half you haven’t seen yet. 

When you peer out, you watch as he leans against the railing, seeming to look both up at the building and down at the streets below. 

Well. If you aren’t leaving anytime soon, may as well offer some sort of peace offering. Maybe the two of you just need to chill the fuck out. 

Rummaging through the kitchen, you manage to find some high quality beer in the fridge. On your walk to the sliding glass, you’re reminded of the time you gave him one before when he helped fix your cart. 

That was so long ago. 

You’re so lost in thought that you barely register Yoongi whipping a hand to his waist when you walk outside. But you catch the metal just in time. 

“It’s me!” you quickly alert before regressing back to annoyance, “Really…”

You’ve had way too much to deal with today. You don’t need a bullet in your chest to be another problem. 

Especially since his little maneuver showed a bit more skin than you meant to see.

Yoongi eyes you before his shoulders rest, and you stride forward to offer up the cold can in your palm. 

But you decide to hesitate while he goes to grab it, and you instead open it to have some. 

Ugh. High quality, your ass. This one is way too bitter. 

Your companion snorts as you make up an excuse, “I’ve had better.” 

“Do you even drink?” 

“Well, yeah,” you pout. Needing to prove it, you decide to keep the can. “Lemme try again.”

Somehow, this leads to you sharing the beer with him, tasting the mix of alcohol and smoke even after he tosses another cigarette off the ledge.

It’s not quite enough to forget, but it’s certainly helping. Observing the clouds so close and the city so far beneath your toes is extremely calming. It’s almost like you’re flying. 

“It’s different here,” you mention out of the blue.

“This sector?” 

“This high up.” Breathing in altitude, you sigh. “I’ve never been higher than my fourth story. It’s nice.” 

“It’s usually silent, too.” 

Your eyes slightly stab. “Whatever. You like having me around and just won’t admit it.” At this, Yoongi avoids direct contact. “Mmhmm. Don’t even try to hide it.” 

“You’re useful to me.” You freeze. “That’s why you’re here.” 

You shake your head. For someone deeming you useful, Yoongi’s pretty nonchalant about you dipping. Taking a tangy sip, you clarify, “But you don’t care if I leave? If someone comes to take me?”  

He takes the offered can. “Mm.” 

That answers that.

You should probably still tell him about what happened, though. His reaction could give more away than his words.

Instead, you drink in the night with your eyes. Knowing that you should know better about the company present. 

The more you converse with Yoongi, the more you pick up. And one of those sad facts is that he doesn’t give a shit about anything you do or don’t do. Because all he really cares about is what he needs. 

You can’t do anything to change him. Fix him. Whatever exists in fairytales. So you decide to take the night in stride. Not give a shit about him, either, per se. 

Your curiosity gets the better of you now. Not just about what he’s gonna show you, but about that duffle. You quite literally don’t have anything to lose anymore, so may as well go for the question you’ve been wanting to ask all day. 

“I was gonna ask for a cut of that,” you divulge with a head-tilt to the bag. “But figured you won’t even show me.” 

“Why not?” 

“Uhh.” You didn’t expect this. “You don’t like questions? You’re always secretive?” 

“Never talk to the streets, princess. They’ll snitch on everything you say.”  

“That’s deep,” you admit, taking a once full beer in your palm. “But I’m no snitch.”

“I know.” 

Your look carries a slight pang. 

“Come here.” Both of you walk inside as he plays with his lighter. When you round the couch, Yoongi dumps the bag right onto the cushions. “If you wanna see what’s in here, do it.” 

You stare before slowly walking forward and kneeling to unzip the bag. As your slide reveals the contents, you’re nervous about what you’ll see. 

But when it’s open, you freeze. 

It’s all…chil-don? Tons of money wrapped in sleek stacks with edges so… Crisp. New. 

Wait. 

These patterns. 

These are il-don? 

Holy fucking shit there’s no way these are real. This is currency seven generations old. The first ever of the established system. Worth more than anything in current circulation, especially in their pristine state. Forget being worth millions, these are next to priceless. 

You’ve never seen them like this.

“They’re some of the last in mint condition.” 

The shock value is so high you forgot you were alone. Slowly turning, your breath catches as you ask, “How did you know where to find these?” 

“Like I said,” he drones. “Streets talk.” 

You look at the bills before glancing back up. “Can I…?” 

Yoongi cocks a brow before angling his mouth. “Touch them? Do what you want, doll.” 

You blink at the name this time. Because him saying that with a fresh cig in his lips is making your stomach flutter. 

Picking up a fresh stack, you inspect the ancient pattern inlay with eyes wide, admiring how paper so old can have such detailed engravings. “These can’t be real.” 

“They are.” He shifts. “And most people never see one in their lifetime.”

You put the money back on the pile inside. Yes, these have got to be worth a fortune. But there’s nothing else in the bag? No drugs, no lethal substances, anything? “Wait, so. This is it?” 

Yoongi fully laughs before flicking his lighter again. “You want something else?” 

“No, I—” You back away. “There’s really nothing else in there?” 

Coolly, he lights up before taking the initial drag. “Nah.” 

Smoke spirals around you. “I dunno what I expected but it wasn’t that.”

Yoongi lets a wisp leave his mouth. You know it’s getting in your robe, but caring about the little things has now jumped out the window. “Whatever’s in that bag can feed half the city.” 

“What?” As you look, he walks over to what looks like a small section of a bar. “Is that why you stole it?”

“Stole it?” Yoongi grins and shakes his head. “Sure. That’s why we stole it.”

“We? Leave me out of this.”

“Too late.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You step forward in anger, but you only get a sound out before Yoongi straightens, aura blazing,

“I—”

“Say I do leave you out of it. Nothing happened tonight, according to me.” He discards his fresh light in an ashtray, watching it die before sliding his gaze your way. “Doesn’t mean whoever we just fought will suddenly leave you alone.”

Shit. He has a point. You ran for so long and fought plenty of those guys.

Is this what he meant? Getting used to that feeling? Maybe your consequence is joining the cycle of the damned, forced to kill in order to protect. Both others and now yourself. 

“But I’m… Just a nobody. A civilian, I…”

Yoongi walks until he’s in front of you, hand cupping your chin and voice whispering mortifying allegations in your ear, 

“You took a body for a Dragon, love. You’re not a civilian anymore.”

Your arms shove him backward without pause, face distraught as you watch his smirk bounce with his shoulders. His cackle echoes mad through the room, pinging the floors and piercing through your robe. 

Truthfully, it doesn’t even feel like you’re wearing one. So naked and exposed in the open for this man to see. “You’re despicable.”

“That right?” His mouth sets as his lids lower. “And what about the one that killed and kept running?”

What.

“There was a police car at the restaurant,” Yoongi continues, a reminder so sharp it slices clean. “Yet you didn’t turn yourself in.”

Your feet sink into the rug beneath. “That’s not…” 

With measured steps, he stalks forward, a harbinger of horrific realizations that you don’t want to hear, “You didn’t have to keep running. Didn’t have to get in that taxi.”

Stepping back, you find the room so stuffy it’s hard to move. “You—”

“Could’ve taken another train.” 

“Stop.”

“Could’ve stayed in that elevator.”

What the fuck is happening right now? 

Yoongi’s close. Very much too close, and the energy he radiates sets your instincts ablaze.

This is the man you’ve been pining over this whole time? If you ever get back home, you have got to remind yourself to avoid him at all costs. There’s nothing good for you if you stay. Danger surrounds every inch of him, and there’s no telling when you’ll take collateral damage.

“But you didn’t,” he delivers the final blow. “And you’re still here.” 

Lifting your chin, Yoongi grins slow when you yank away. 

“I should’ve never saved you.” Gaze finally locked, you growl from within, letting a monster loose, 

“I should’ve left you for dead.” 

Wait. 

Stop. 

This isn’t you. This isn’t who you are. You’re a helper. A healer. Those words came out so strange that you’re questioning how they left your mouth so freely.

Did you really mean that? Or was this some feeble attempt to hurt him?

Yoongi doesn’t seem phased. But you clearly don’t know him so it’s not like—

Something heavy and dark as fuck is placed in your hand, and you snap your eyes to his in utmost disbelief.

“Go ahead then.”

Oh, this man is psychotic.

“Be my guest.”

No fucking way you’re gonna do it. “Stop—”

“If you regret it, why waste time—”

“Seriously, I’m not gonna—”

Yoongi forces your fingers flush against metal as he holds the gun to his forehead, both eyes piercing right into yours with no hesitation whatsoever. 

And it is frightening. 

All anger from before flees as fear and intensity rush into its place. Your brain fizzles and cracks as you try to wrestle out of his grip, and you feel burning at the corners of your eyes. “Stop!”

“Why.”

“I’m not gonna shoot you, the fuck!”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

Mercifully, he lets go, pistol thrown as you’re tugged forward with a—

“What’s stopping you,” he grounds out, formidable presence all-consuming. “Tell me.” 

You’re breathing so hard it hurts. “You”—a shaky heave—“You are out of your fucking mind.”

When you struggle from his grip, Yoongi pulls you even closer. Reacting in a rush, you propel your knee up to wrap around his side and twist. 

But he proves just as quick, gripping the bare skin of your leg as you shove him down against the sofa. Grunting, you both curve with the furniture, Yoongi locked onto your knitted, conflicted brows.  

“You regret saving my life,” he simply repeats to your frustration. “I gave you the chance to fix that.” 

“Shut up—”

“But your will is weak.”

“I swear to—”

“Guess I was wrong.”

Who the hell does he think he is? This guy—Yoongi, Agust, whoever the fuck—has no right to play with you so casually. 

But something else is swirling inside your ribs. Because through his cutthroat words and actions, this man is somehow stirring the deepest waters of your soul. Ripples rumble and stretch into waves, tugging your toes in undercurrents of obsidian. Dark. Primal. Hazardous. All you. 

Is it from being subjected to such a heavy dose of his power? 

Or is it because—even if just for a moment—he’s handing all that power to you?

Quite literally, you’re the one on top.

And Yoongi holds your gaze, unfazed by the way your robe completely spread open during your tumble. Or the fact that you have nothing beneath that silk. 

He could easily take over. From the feel of his build beneath your hands and between your legs, you know he can. 

But he’s not. There’s no hesitation. He’s legitimately giving you the choice and reveals no ounce of remorse.

This revelation courses through your veins, pumping a new kind of life into your palms. You have a shot at a criminal with a bag of il-don waiting to be snatched. And you know you won’t take it. 

And that alone alters the chemistry of your brain.

With more fear of yourself than anything else, you shake out, “If I’m killing you, it’s gonna be entirely my choice.” 

He’s laughing? You’re instigating a threat and he’s enjoying it? God, you are teetering on the brink of madness and another emotion that won’t dare be acknowledged. 

Tugging Yoongi up a notch, you proclaim to the glint of his eyes, 

“And when I do, you’ll die exactly how I want.”

Yoongi’s lips slowly, dreadfully spread, teeth shining in the dim lamp lights that sharpen half his features. When he speaks, you shiver. Because it’s a mix of pride and fear, sprinkled with a hint of alarm,

“That’s my girl.” 

The room quiets, your bodies locked in a way that you’ll remember years from now. Breaths. Your bare chest hovering inches above his. If there were bystanders, they would no doubt get the wrong idea. Because if things were different, and if this man underneath you wasn’t who he was, you’d entertain another type of ferality and not stop until morning. 

To be fair. That same dark part of you would still do it. 

But this is about the righteous part of who you are. The one that abides by the rules. The one that fights to keep days boring, uneventful, the same. 

So you quell that monster pacing in your core. 

One more exhale leaves your lips before you let him drop, sliding off his silken, tone form to quietly readjust your robe. Turning away, you focus on the night skies, wondering if the people back home are sound asleep as you should be. 

“My will may seem weak. But I don’t care what you think of me.” 

Sound is crisp again as Yoongi rises to his feet. Around you, the air starts to lighten, cold slipping delicately into your skin. 

Slowly tying the wrap at your waist, your words float to the ground, “Because I know who I am. And no one can take that from me, not even you.” 

His presence fills the space at your back. But it’s muted. Less intimidating. Or maybe you’re just at your limit because you admit a little more than you intend, 

“This world has already tried enough.” 

Both of you come to another standstill, two black robes staining a room full of white. Even time itself gives you space, slowing and circling until you’re ready for it to flow straight again. 

As a cloud shadows the light of the moon, you feel knuckles caress your neck. And Yoongi’s never sounded so calm as he starts, “They’ll come after you.”

You slightly turn. 

“You still want to go back?”

A pause. A nod.

His knuckles continue to glide along your neck, slipping down your back before traveling the swoop of your shoulder. Everything in your body thrums, silently quaking because you have no idea where this is coming from and you can’t say you hate it. 

Quite the opposite. And that scares you more. 

“If you do, you’re dead to me.”

Of course. You’ve seen and know too much. There’s no reason for him to show up to your street now, especially if tangerines are all he’s looking for. He can always find them anywhere else. 

But, for some reason, this still stings. In a way that irks even your reasonable side. Is it because of his touch? No. That’s only making you nervous from the fact that you probably aren’t… as experienced as he is. The uneasiness is wholly from your own limitations. 

“I’ll survive without you,” you whisper resolute, chest squeezing when he replies,

“I know.” 

The same fingers get bolder, tracing down your arm before sliding along the wrap at your hip. 

And you freeze. 

Because the tension is palpable. The power is intoxicating. It’s a new type of anticipation and you are fighting yourself to not give in. Don’t let everything get to your head. Don’t let anyone in again. Don’t stray onto a path you can’t quite navigate. 

But fuck, you kinda want to. 

Rocks slide against exposed skin when he decides to speak again. And it makes you wish the two of you were extraordinarily normal. Or that you at least knew what the fuck to do here because the attraction you feel is not as one-sided as you presumed. 

“What made you stay.”

A breath you didn’t know you were holding huffs out, and you swallow with difficulty. “I just…” 

Get it together. Keep up your guard. It’s proving so hard, especially when his touches spark fires along your limbs. But you have to. 

And therein comes another lie. “I wanted to know what you stole.” Gulping down the truth, you harden your resolve. “That’s it.” 

With more restraint that you want, Yoongi bunches silk at your pelvis, hitching your robe and your breath all at once. When his other hand slowly holds your neck in place, you can’t help but flinch, and his low hum pours lava straight down your chest, 

“What a shame.”

Oh. Is this how it ends? Did your gut get it all wrong? 

He could end your life with a flick of his wrist. You know far too much. You’re not useful anymore. 

“Someone will take you back tomorrow,” Yoongi murmurs, proving every single theory wrong. “After that, you’re on your own.” 

And just like that, he releases you to stand alone. 

Oh. You’re going home. 

Good.

This is good, right?

Your heart beats overtime, almost drowning out your entire thought process. The thumps and pulses seem to cut every string of consciousness short. 

What was that? What was any of that? 

Never mind. Nothing happened and you can keep it that way, for the better. Yoongi is risk draped in beauty, and once you’re back home you can cut ties with anyone like him for good. You saved him; he spared you. It’s over. 

…But do you want it to be? 

Yes. 

Of course you do. 

Clouds let moonlight shine again. 

When you arrive at an answer, you turn to find that Yoongi’s already gone, duffle and all shut inside his room with a muted click.

A flip switches as you let exhaustion take over completely, falling onto cushions that still hold his scent. Inhaling, you drift into darkness, wondering how your final decision will affect the rest of your days.

Whether awake or asleep, nightmares are real. 

Only this time, you aren’t quite sure if the blood and guts you’re seeing are yours or someone else’s. Can’t discern the limb on the ground from the limb on your torso. Screams echo and ping from all directions, a cacophony of death that has you scratching at mania to stay sane. 

Murderer. Murderer. A murderer that regrets who she saved. No, wait, that’s not true. You’d still do it again.

And you watch the same swing over and over. The same arc of finality. Those lifeless eyes. Closer. Closer. Sharper. Judging. 

You were wrong. Were you wrong? Running does nothing and doesn’t provide an answer. The ground under your toes gives out. 

How far are you straying? How low are you sinking? If you told your neighbors who you killed for, would they be upset or betrayed? 

They’d hate you. Their fingers aim straight. Their tongues fire bullets. 

They’ll hate you. Hate you. Hate you hate you hate you—

A room bursts into view as you jolt awake. Sounds snap silent, the hum of the air all you can hear as you rub your eyes. 

So much for sleeping. There’s no way you’ll be able to now.

Focus on something else. Anything else. The past cannot be undone, so live with the choices you made and deal with the faces that haunt your dreams. 

Staring into the dark, shapes and sharp edges slowly form, your vision sharpening with every passing second. Tiny pops and creaks tickle your eardrums, and Yoongi’s scent still lingers with your own. 

You don’t want to focus on him, but it’s better than what forced you awake.

A lot happened tonight. But also, nothing at all. Something is keeping you both together, tightening and squeezing the strings in your chest. But you don’t know if that’s from the adrenaline of today’s events, or from the pure shock of your unexpected reunion. 

There’s something else you haven’t considered until now. Despite his unorthodox and hellish methods, Yoongi did keep your head on straight. You showered. You ate. You drank. You inhaled fresh air. 

Your compass righted itself when you didn’t blow his brains out. 

The nothingness was all to your advantage. Was that all calculated, too? 

One part of you—the bright side of you—knows that it doesn’t matter. No matter how helpful he was tonight, distance is crucial. Stay away from people like him. They’re all too cunning to be kept close.

But if leaping that crevasse allows you to keep your mind off everything else? If you need to stop the bleeding, why not reach for a cure?

Your exhale shakes as your shoulders fall forward, self-deprecation destroying your brain because what the fuck are you thinking? This is nonsense. Madness. 

Maybe you’ve just been insane from the very start. 

Your breath quickens at the possibilities. The potential outcomes of what you’re about to do. 

This is the most solid decision you’ve made all night.

As your toes travel across plush, trek over marble, and arrive at their destination, the rest of your body quietly, nervously follows. 

Raising your hand, you listen for movement. When you find none, you softly knock and wait for what seems like an eternity. 

For nothing. 

All that worry for naught. Yoongi’s most likely fast asleep and not dreaming at all. 

Good. This is your sign to let it go completely. In the morning, you’re going back home. The nightmares will consume you and you’ll wake up everyday to brave the streets. Assassins will be on the hunt for revenge. You won’t be saved by the boy in teal. 

What a shame, indeed.

As you step to leave, you hear the door slowly swing.

And Yoongi emerges from behind, minted hair mussed over lowered lids and robe slipping down a tatted shoulder. 

Fuck everything. 

“I don’t regret what I did and I’d do it all again,” you admit with finality. To him, to yourself, to the ones you’ll disappoint back home. “And I refuse to get used to this feeling because it reminds me I’m still a good person.” 

Yoongi’s eyes don’t change as he stares. 

“But,” you exhale with a shake. “Just for tonight…”  

This is it.

The brink of no return.

Your soul dips into the dark.

“Please make me fucking forget.”

—

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⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: once again, i cannot thank y'all enough for being patient and understanding as i go through life while working on this and all the other writing projects we have going on! it means the world, and even though there were some not-so-fun asks to get, the supporting and wonderful ones are what i will continue to focus on! so if you've ever left something sweet, thought provoking, encouraging, etc - thank you from the bottom of my heart! you're what keeps this writer going. a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ minted masterlist

[norris55s]

the summer i turned pretty - charles leclerc & arthur leclerc

a reader x charles leclerc & arthur leclerc love triangle, pt. 2

pt. 1

warnings: none other than angst?

a/n: a million years later here is part 2 but it’s not over ladies and gentlemen! i hope it doesn’t suck lol. part 3 will come. also i’ve now added charlotte siné as the fc for practical purposes!

————————————————————————

Day 4

————————————————————————

As I opened the door, terrified at who I was going to see behind it, I met Charles’ bloodshot eyes staring daggers into mine.

“Y/N, let’s talk, please. I screwed up, but let me explain,” he quickly said before I could even mutter a word.

I was still as speechless as I had been last night. Without a word, I moved aside to let him in my room, but he shook his head and insisted on talking to me at the beach. I just obliged, trying my best to be quiet around the house so as to not wake anyone up.

As soon as we arrived on the shore, Charles invited me to sit down and I once again just obliged. My heart was pounding on my ears and I felt like it would jump out of my body at any second.

“I feel like I should start at the beginning,” Charles said, while I looked to the sea instead of looking at him.

“I’ve always loved you. There has always been something about you that comforts me and makes me happy. I just didn’t realize how deep it went until last summer, when I realized that you kissing Antoine ruined the entire season for me.”

I tried to recall any reaction from Charles when I hooked up with Antoine last year that could’ve been a sign, but I found nothing in my memories. I was too busy sulking over the fact that he didn’t and would never like me, but I had been proved wrong 365 days later. The words were in my head but they didn’t make sense. Why would Charles Leclerc like me, much less love me?

“I’ve tried to avoid it, I’ve tried to think nothing of it, I’ve tried to deny it and it’s been no use.”

The irony of me doing the same thing for years was not lost on me. How I have pined for years not realizing he spent some of that time feeling the same way was borderline funny.

“Will you please look at me?” Charles asked with a hint of desperation in his voice, making it impossible for me to deny his request even if I knew any resolve or strength I had left in me would evaporate the minute my eyes met his.

The butterflies in my stomach felt like a swarm of wasps, and I’m sure the blush in my face evidenced it. Charles’ green eyes, the object of all my hidden wishes for as long as I could recall, stared into mine looking to decipher my emotions.

I wished I could say he found nothing but love, but in between all those beautiful feelings of loving and being loved in return, I could still sense a wretched feeling of disappointment.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” a stronger voice than expected called him out. All this time he had to know I felt the same way, but he let me believe there wasn’t a chance in hell he could care about me beyond a friendship.

“It took me too long to even understand it. Even then, I couldn’t justify changing your life on a crush, or hurt you and ruin it all. I still don’t know if I can justify it, but I know I can’t stand it anymore. I love you and I’m done pretending I don’t, or that you don’t love me too.”

When I searched into his eyes, all I could find was sincerity. And it was enough for me to jump into the deep end, leaning closer to him in hopes he would initiate the kiss I’ve desperately wanted for far too much time.

He granted my wishes, placing both of his hands on my neck to connect our lips. It was just like I imagined it.

Soft, passionate, unrushed, warm. I felt the fireworks that everyone speaks of go off in my head, and I just knew Charles felt them too.

As we pulled away to breathe, struggling to even think of ever separating me from him ever again, Charles smiled brightly.

“Can you say you love me too, mon cœur?” he asked so prettily I could coo at him.

“I love you, Charles Leclerc,” I obliged, because how could I say no to him?

“And I love you, Y/N L/N,” he replied, smiling even bigger, and kissing me even better.

Our bubble of a newfound love lasted a while, but was eventually meant to break when I received a text from Arthur.

————————————————————————

————————————————————————

The conversation about Arthur with Charles wasn’t the hard part at all. The older brother brushed the kiss off as a drunken mistake, and was a little too confident on who my choice would be.

The conversation about Charles with Arthur would be the hard part, and I didn’t even have time to settle down in my bed after the rollercoaster of emotions I had just gone through when Arthur barged in.

He looked happy to see me, and it broke my heart.

In trying to find the words to say I couldn’t be with him, and before I could mutter them, he hugged me.

“I’ve been trying to find you all this time, where have you been chérie?” Arthur smiled, but it quickly faded once he realized my energy wasn’t the same.

“Arthur…”

“Chérie, don’t say it was a mistake because you know it wasn’t. Fuck my brother, you know that this is right.”

“I’m so sorry…” I began and pushed back further away from him, as if my next words would hurt him any less because of it. “Charles and I spoke, and we have realized our feelings for each other…” I looked down, cowardly, unable to face his reaction. “You know I’ve loved him forever and I am just so sorry for leading you on.”

Like it always happened between us, I didn’t have to look at him, and he didn’t have to say anything. I just knew that we were done.

He stormed out of the room.

————————————————————————

charles_leclerc added to his stories

y/ninstagram added to her close friends stories

arthur_leclerc added to his stories

————————————————————————

[damiansgoodgirll]

So girl, I’ve seen Beyonce is your favourite singer and she’s my favourite singer so could you please write Reader where she is a huge fan and she’s part of the judgment day and more like Rhea and Damian, she reacts to the album with them and they can’t understand like the hype or something like that because they are not into that genre and like reader has some crazy reaction.

Please it would be so fun! Thank you so my queen 🐝❤️

please, i always imagined what would their reactions be to beyonce or singers they don’t listen to lol, i’m so happy to make this request!

notes : i love rock music and metal too! i just needed to make reader a beyhive and make her hating metal music (please forgive me), also listen to this masterpiece thank you!

damian priest x reader x rhea ripley (PLATONIC)

cowboys

you always loved sharing car rides and hotel rooms with your teammates, especially damian and rhea. they were the first people to ask you to join them in the judgment day, seeing your potential in nxt and being barely twenty one, they wanted to give you a bigger opportunity and so they took you under their protective wing.

finn and dom were nice too, they helped you growing in your skills in the past year and they all took a liking in you but you had a bigger connection with rhea and damian.

they always pushed you, making you reach goals you thought were impossible and you couldn’t thank them enough.

there was one thing you didn’t like about them.

their favourite type of music.

rock. metal. punk. whatever they were listening to. you just couldn’t handle it. there was just one rock song you liked and it was beyoncé’s “don’t hurt yourself” rock song.

so long car rides with them were always a torture. you tried to make conversation most of the time but when it was a 7 hour ride, eventually you would finish topics and so you had to listen to them singing or more - screaming - to their songs.

they usually let you choose one or two songs, but that was it. and everytime you would choose rihanna or beyonce they would take over it.

finn once told you that metal heads only cared about their favourite music. the rest was trash for them. you didn’t believe him at first, thinking he was only overreacting but in this year you realised how right he was.

it’s like they were allergic to beyonce.

but tonight, oh, tonight it was going to be your night.

you were currently in the same hotel room as they were as rhea wanted to share a room with you all. you knew what was coming at midnight and so you asked multiple times to have a separate room from them, you didn’t give them explanations but rhea wasn’t having it.

so, a huge bedroom with two kings sized bed - one for damian and the other one for rhea and you - and a huge tv with all the apps you needed, spotify included was what you got.

the shock came when the track list dropped a day prior, letting you know that there were going to be 27 songs.

they can barely handle one song, how were they going to react to 27 songs?

you still didn’t ask them, as whatever band rhea was playing on spotify - probably motionless in white - were blasting in the room and you were currently fidgeting with your fingers.

the best guess was probably that they would leave you alone for two hours or so. maybe going at the gym or somewhere else. the worst guess was that they probably would laugh at you and telling you no. that would be the worst because you had been waiting for this album since the announcement day and you were already excited at the thought of a new beyonce album.

fifteen minutes to the album drop and you were already imagining yourself leaving the room to go somewhere else to listen to the album.

“guys!” you called for their attention. you were sitting on the bed next to rhea and damian, who were playing some cards game.

“you okay?” rhea asked and you nodded.

“i have something to ask you…”

“go on” rhea’s curios faced looked at you. rhea always liked the way you got shy around them, even if you had been with them for the past year. she kinda knew what you were going to ask, as you had been fangirling about the album with bianca belair for the past two weeks but still, she wanted to hear you asking them. deep down she knew she couldn’t say no to you.

damian, on the other hand, had no idea and he probably was going to have a heart attack at your request.

“so…i have a request…and for once i would like - uhm…i would like that you would consider my feelings” you struggled at first making rhea slightly chuckle.

“did we do something?” damian’s worried expression looked at you.

“no no no, you didn’t do anything to me…uhm…it came out wrong” you said “so, uhm…i don’t know if you know, probably not, but beyoncé’s new album drops in like ten minutes now and - uhm…since we’ve been listening to metal music all day long and i haven’t complained once - i would like to ask you if you could let me listen the album here? like, i know it’s not your type of music but i would really love to listen it here and not going like in the gym or somewhere else…since we have spotify and stuff…” you asked.

rhea was smirking and damian was very much confused.

“that’s it?” rhea asked and you nodded.

“why were you so scared to ask us that?” damian asked you this time.

“i wasn’t scared…”

“yes you were” he pointed out. he kinda felt bad that you had to ask them such a simple thing. yes, he knew beyonce wasn’t his music but he couldn’t see why it was a thing to ask.

“so?” rhea asked “you kinda looked scared”

“it’s not that. it’s just i know it’s not your type of music and you always act dramatic when finn or i ask if we can listen to something else so i thought it was going to be a problem for you”

“we always let you put your songs on” damian said.

“yes, and then you and rhea talk over it”

“oh” he said “i didn’t mean to do that i promise”

“okay…” you smiled “so you really are going to listen beyonce with me?”

“yeah, i mean, i don’t think 13 or 14 songs could hurt us” rhea joked and damian laughed too.

“actually…it’s 27 songs”

“what!?” the both screamed, making you chuckle.

“you still have five minutes to back up because the album is about to drop” you said as you were searching beyonce on spotify.

you observed the way rhea and damian looked at each others. definitely not ready for the outcome. but rhea couldn’t help but notice how excited you were about the album, and how you were happy with it. just a small thing that made you the happiest she ever saw you.

“here we go!” you almost screamed jumping back on the bed, sat between rhea and damian as you were about to press play when you saw the album popping up on her spotify home “are you ready?”

“wait…is it a country album?” damian asked and you nodded.

“you should have gave us a little more of infos about what kind of death we have to die…” rhea added a little dramatic, making you laugh.

“oh shut up! it’s gonna be great!” you said pressing play.

you were in tears after the first minute of ameriican requiem and now damian and rhea thought you were the dramatic one.

it got worse when beyoncé’s cover of jolene started as you always loved that song growing up.

“so she stealing songs?” damian murmured, earning a side look from rhea and punch in his stomach from you “okay i apologise”

the death of you was when daughter started, you knew beyonce was capable of anything but opera? the italian part? you were a crying mess, and even though neither of them were understanding the hype around beyonce, they couldn’t deny she was a great artist.

they were a little shocked when they saw you crying over her songs and they didn’t know what to do. if they should console you or letting you cry in peace.

“oh she’s doing it again!” you screamed when spaghetti started.

“doing what?” rhea whispered never getting a reply back.

you were crying and then you were not.

they felt like they were babysitting a baby.

damian was trying to stay awake just for you and rhea was kinda amused by the reactions you were having to her songs.

ya ya made you start jumping on the bed, tyrant made you feel like you were a porn star and ii hand ii heaven made you cry all over again.

one hour and a half later the album was over and you couldn’t believe the masterpiece beyonce just dropped.

“so?” you asked them, noticing their confused looks “did you like it?”

they knew they couldn’t say no because you looked too happy and they didn’t want to ruin your mood but they couldn’t say yes because - country? - definitely not their genre.

“i gave up after the jolene cover” damian joked, earning another side look from rhea “joking joking…it was interesting”

“rhea?” you turned to her and now she was speechless.

“uhm…yeah, it was an experience” she smiled at you, making you smile too.

you were happy with their reactions so you went all to bed.

two days later

another car ride. another show. another hotel room to be shared with damian and rhea.

you hit the shower first, tired of the trip you just had, you wanted to relax a bit before going to bed.

“your body laid out on these filthy floors

your bloodstains on my custom coutures

bathroom attendant let me right in

she was a big fan”

came from the bedroom. except it wasn’t spotify.

“they keep saying that i ain’t nothing like my father

but i’m the furthest thing from choir boys and altars

if you cross me i’m just like my father

i am colder than titanic water”

you heard damian singing.

he was singing beyonce. the opera song. they really thought you couldn’t hear them so they kept singing or more like, whispering, but you would catch a someone singing a beyonce song even in the loudest crowd.

rhea joining him too was something else.

you really couldn’t believe that but you pretended nothing happened because you knew you would have ruined their egos.

damian and rhea singing beyonce?

no one would believe that.

but you did.

and that was enough for you.

[herejusttosufferalong]

Ok so this might be a long rant, I just came across this account, after a lovely woman i follow on TT. She said in her live that a blog she likes one tumblr account, so I had a wee nosy. Well after watching Tifs live (our captain) the other night, my gut feeling about this whole situation with L, N and A:

I only started to ship L&N late April this year. I just was excited to see polin for their season after reading the book. Then I seen N and L interviews and saw their chemistry & connection I was hooked. I don’t ship people irl but I did always like Tom and Zendaya, I thought they would be cute together but nothing hardcore. Then L& N came into my life and now I can’t function properly without thinking about these two. I like the whole world has seen this two people that have captured our hearts, with their crazy chemistry. Which made a lot fans go crazy thinking they were a real couple and still want them to be.

As I said I newly lukola fan but after watching Tifs live and reading the info she had, also looking at other content and speaking to other fans. I believe my gut feeling is right, ( just my opinion) don’t come from me lol. 1: I believe L fell for N that first day they met at the dance rehearsal. I mean for someone who doesn’t have good memory, he remember everything that day. Like you said I believe he pushed those feelings down as he was in newly relationship. Also N was in a relationship, it wasn’t their time. They were great friends, laughed, joked and even flirted irl or SM but never crossed that boundary.

2: I believe the chemistry we were seeing in season 1 and 2 was them giving each other subtle hits, that they will have to finally give into repressed feelings once they become leads. L was still in a longtime relationship with his gf but N wasn’t in hers anymore, so she was having single girl era. Then bang they are told they are the leads the next season. Both gear up for it by L getting fit, healthy and trim down. N also got fit, healthy and went to the gym. They both threw everything into making this the best season(which I believe they did). Then started to film season3 when they can’t hide their feelings anymore. The gf caught on to this and that when things started to turn sour for L and gf, she got jealous and insecure about his feelings. She started getting hate from fans. Once she started doing shady things like copy N style and comment (WFT on camera) when the episode 2 season 2, when Colin’s comes back from his trip and sees Pen for the first time. Then J and L unliked N posts and didn’t interact with her as much. Also around that time N came out to defend J and stop the hate. (If I couldn’t love this woman anymore than I do. She is a incredible, kind and loyal friend to have in your life). Around this time L was on down low liking posts N friends posted about her, knowing that J wasn’t following them on SM to see. 3: As I said when season3 began all those feelings they both had came out and they couldn’t hide it anymore. You can see it by the reactions of the cast and crew saw, they slowly were letting us know that it was real what we saw and felt. I mean the fact that he wasn’t able to see her in certain dresses until the last minute to get his real reaction or that the director took all the dancers off the set, to only have N&S dance in front of L to get that pure jealousy and anger from him. (BTW that nearly broke that man) haha which I love, I know am evil 😏. Or the fact that N had a fake hen party with cast and crew. Do not get me started on the ‘sound proof’ carriage or the broken furniture. Around those scenes were being filmed the shit was hitting the fan with L&J, they believed to be broken up around the time of the mirror scene. We all know how relaxed they were with each other in those days, as N said “we were so relaxed, we spent the day under the covers naked not wanting to get up”. I mean come you two 🙈 So L was coming home after doing those intimate scenes and couldn’t detached from it. So it is believed around this time J cheated on L with a co star, of course this is all rumoured but Ls mum, aunt and grandma liked a lot of lukolas posts. That scene when he finds out about pen being LW, he was really crying and even catch’s on his words, it also makes N say his name because she can’t see him hurting. So that’s why she help him to heal after the break up, she wanted him not in pain anymore. That’s when everything changed.

4: N and L friendship grows stronger and stronger around part two they both were single and they give into their feelings. So when you watch the ally scene when he finds her out on the night before their wedding and they argue he push’s her up against the door. L uses his left hand to lift up her skirt, Colin is right handed but L is left handed. Also if you listen to that scene without the music, you can hear him saying N name. The last scene they filmed together was their last intimate scene and she slips the tongue in while he sucks on it. He also came to her last day of filming to support her AKA the pic of him seating on the floor while she hugging him 🫠So I believe that they both hooked up around this time and even went on secret dates. He was all in and was ready to go into the relationship with her. This is when it hits her, he needs to be single, she was going to be busy, he starting his new play… they had to put the breaks on it for awhile. That’s why she always says “what is meant for you, won’t pass you by”, something my mum says to me every day. N knows she be called to other women, that she is older, that her image would be damaged if they came out as a couple around that time. Because he loves her so much he couldn’t do that to her, so he agrees even though it is killing him. That’s when A appears. 5: He goes on to have his HBS with the lads and the rat 🐀 (Rory) I said what I said. He has fun and then meets A, she fun and exciting, just someone to have fun with, who also fits in his friends group. They date have fun, go on double dates, parties and events. They never put a label on it but she his gf in not so many words. Then they begin their six month press tour and all that pent up feelings come back out again. They were unhinged, flirty and their chemistry was through the roof. They couldn’t stop it if they tried. They have understanding like last year they couldn’t go public if they wanted to because of the image wouldn’t be right. That’s when A jealous streak came out, by slowly letting the fans know she was about and don’t get any ideas. She post videos of her of dancing in hotels were L was staying. That’s when she started to troll the fans and N too. I think the final nail that hit the coffin was the Ireland trip. We got the famous fixing the hair in middle of an interview(let’s be real L went to another world, he lean in and closed his eyes never wanting to open them up again). We also got him meeting her mum and went out with her family. A could see he was pulling back from her that’s why she invited herself to the NY premier were we got the awkward hug from A&N. So that’s why she called the paps and messed up the situation with L&N. I like a lot of people felt that pap walk was a slap to all our faces. I believe like you said she went rogue. All she had to do was wait a week and it wouldn’t have been as bad. The fandom would have been mad but would got over it. However she stole that limelight and you could see he annoyed by the pics. So HBS 2 happens, N starts working on her her new film. L has events, parties and holidays with A and the friend group. However he found ways to mention N in every interview or posts and she tells him in some ways that he is always with her by the pics she posts too. Like he said on JF they are on a break. Now they waiting for things to calm down and distance himself from A. But she doesn’t like and has now joined together with rat boy and his gf. They are trolling fans, N, leaking pics and videos of L when he just wants to be private. I also believe he has totally checked out with this relationship. You can see it in her eyes and body language, it doesn’t lie, he’s not happy. I also think his losing work opportunities with this bad pr at the minute. Unlike N who is booked and busy.

So to conclude this rant sorry btw I just had to get this all out of my head 🙈 it was doing my head in. I believe once season 4 begins and L&N have to be a married couple. They go back to their funny, flirty and unhinged. I then believe A bags will be packed because he will do all he can to protect N and her image. He also try to get new jobs as well. Were A might be on the next season of love island. I really hope not because I seen enough of that drama queen and I like to enjoy the show. I think next year we might get the confirmation of them both being an official couple. That’s when I be cracking up the Prosecco and champagne 🍾 😊🚢

No matter how many times I read things like this I always act surprised at every turn lmao

Love this anon, thx for sharing

[crazyaboutto]

The pain of being a book reader that’s been made into a show

The writers and directors literally have completed series in their hands. They have the writer’s feedback as well or at least they initially said so in season 1.

Why the fuck are they deviating from canon so much? I’m trying to think HOTD as high budgeted fan fiction but damn it’s so hard. You’re getting paid a lot and working on one of the most well known series and you just fuck up

I was already pissed with Aegon’s dream nonsense as well as Rhaenys bursting out of coronation just for shock value but it’s going downhill fast. That dream leads to absolutely nothing. We don’t even have NK like the GOT version in the books. Also, still prefer book version of Alicent both age and character wise.

It was so fast paced in season 1 and now they’re dragging the story. They’re also deviating from the canon a lot

Why does Alicent actually believe “that’s what Viserys wanted”? She wants the throne for her bloodline and that’s it. It’s her wish for power, not for actually believing in whatever Viserys was saying.

It also feels like Rhaenyra would be fine with Aegon’s usurping if Luke didn’t die. She is the throne. The war started when the greens hid the death of the king.

Why is Daemon tripping for so long? He took harrenhall and that’s it. He raised the armies 3 times before the Dance. He’s a fearsome and competent general but he’s basically just a random dude who took acid trips. Ryan saying Daemon doesn’t have the skill set to raise an army lmao give me a break

Perhaps, they do not want to show cruel side of Rhaenyra by ordering the death of Nettles and not harming Daemon after Mysaria told Rhaenyra? on one hand, Daemon might have cheated with Nettles, or it was father-daughter relationship like Mushroom thinks. It feels like they’re wasting our time with Daemon’s trips like him fucking his mother nonsense to erase Nettles.

Why are they trying to erase the connection between Valyrian and dragons? No normal person can bond with a dragon. Be it Valeryon or Targaryen, you need Valyrian blood. And the whole stupid “illusion” thing in the show.

They also wasted Laena so badly in season 1. If they’re all for sapphic representation instead of just creating buzz on internet, they could have gone for Laena x Rhaenyra moments. I’m not even sure if the adult versions were on screen together. Soon after we got older Laena, she died. It’s literally book canon that Rhaenyra was “very fond” of Laena. It’s also pretty much implied that there were things between them and ot3 with Daemon

Not to mention they erased the lesbian fighter character who loves killing men and kissing women. I’m talking about Sabitha (Frey) and her lover Alysanne Blackwood. Would rather (want to) see them acting like they’re “very close friends” than a Alicole sex scene

We don’t even have Daeron lol

We haven’t seen Haelena’s mourning well instead we saw random things. Blood and Cheese wasn’t even done properly. If you’re slowing down the pace and will end the Dance in season 3, at least show more of Haelena’s mourning. Show the sibling interactions between the greens.

Another thing, who the hell is Aeriana? Her?

I’m just reminded of how after the books ended, D&D took liberties with characters and we got the clusterfuck of season 7-8. Now I feel like they’ll do the same thing in season 3

And I fear what they’ll do with Aegon the conqueror. Like maybe he tricked Visenya and Rhaenys into marrying him and conquering the 7 kingdoms? Maybe the sisters didn’t want to kill but were forced to because they’re such angels? Or Visenya can’t fight well

Why does HBO keep making shows about the house it abhors?

[ryuichirou]

14 years of RyuKatsu????? What's your secret on a long lasting relationship 🎤

Also don't feel the need to answer this part,,,but who asked who? 👀

Hehe yes! This is what that anniversary art we posted on 10.10 was referring to, in case you missed it. Realising that it’s been 14 years feels kind of weird, it honestly doesn’t feel that way, but at the same time I don’t even remember the times when we weren’t together lol

It feels a bit weird giving any kind of relationship advice, and I really can only speak for our situation (and I know (guess?) your question is half-joking, but I’m going to reply to it seriously), but… Hmm, it might sound cheesy or obvious, but I really mean it: I think the most important things are mutual respect, empathy, and ability to have fun together. Different people have different things they find important in relationship, but I feel like these three things are always important. Everyone has differences and difficult moments, fights are also inevitable, and if you’re together all the time, there are going to be moments when you annoy each other. What’s important is that you remember that you love that person and be empathetic and compassionate, but also give them space when they need it. Both people should do that, of course, the point is meeting each other in the middle and being willing to compromise if you feel disconnected. It’s all about giving each other space, but also all about actively and genuinely enjoying your time together. Being together shouldn’t feel like a chore and instead should be your comfort place, where you can both feel safe and have fun.

You don’t have to always love the same thing, but there should be something both of you are passionate about together. Both in terms of projects or just hobbies, there should be something both of you can yell about together. Katsu and I both love anime, love horror, love our ships and love creating. My art is my self-expression, and Katsu’s stories are also personal to Katsu, and all of those things tie together in such a tight knot, in a good way. It’s all connected, and we are always preoccupied with those things. But also, I am very lucky because even if Katsu isn’t into something that I am into, I can still yap about it without Katsu getting annoyed, and that’s fair for the things that Katsu likes too.

So yeah, uhhh, watch movies together and ship incest together, it makes relationship stronger lol

I don’t mind answering your question! But the problem is, I am not even sure how to answer it. Just for the record: we aren’t married, and unfortunately we can’t get married here. So I’m talking about asking each other out…

Katsu was the first one to get a crush, and it took me a while to notice lol It’s always funny remembering this story because poor Katsu confessed to me pretty directly, and somehow it still flew completely over my head. I guess I just couldn’t believe Katsu could like me (such an independent and smart person…), or maybe I was just as oblivious as I was stubborn. Only after Katsu got frustrated with me during some other conversation weeks later and said something about me not understanding someone else’s feelings, I started thinking that maaaaaybe Katsu kind of likes me? I was genuinely so surprised. I was so bad at noticing all the flirting…

And if that wasn’t enough… After we got closer and became obviously romantic with each other, after a certain point Katsu had to gather courage and to actually ask me directly if this whole thing is mutual. I didn’t even notice that I hadn’t told Katsu a single “I love you”, I just assumed that we were already dating after a certain point, and that everything else was already implied.  😱😱😱 Katsu YOU POOR THING

In my defense, both of us were very young when this whole thing happened, and I gained a lot more emotional intelligence since then lol Thanks to Katsu.

So yeah, our anniversary day isn’t actually the day we started dating (it’s kind of difficult to pinpoint when that happened LOL there are a couple of dates…), but actually a day when I got tired of my ex-friend and ex-gf mistreating me (we were still dating) and decided that I would rather spend time with Katsu instead, and we had a wonderful time together and it was the first time I felt such a strong genuine emotional connection with someone. I made a choice that day, and I even though it took some time for my head to figure it out, now I feel like my heart decided everything on 10.10.10.

[oldiesstationlover11607]

So like about that one TikTok I’ve sent you, I was thinking the most basic, every school girl dream, plot. Like the reader is a fan and she comes to see them live, stands there, Josh likes her, interacts with her during the show and then invites her backstage to do some dirty things

Loved your work about Tyler throughout the years, that was exactly what I was thinking about 💖💖💖🪬

Backstage - Josh Dun x Fem!Reader - Smut

Warnings: unprotected sex (do not do that lol eww) + the trauma that comes with reading smut :)

Word Count: 2551

A/N: Sorry this took so long lol it was fun 😭 i tried second person pov and present tense so lmk if you prefer that. enjoy bestie :)

message for people who know me irl - FUCK OFF RN OR I WILL FIND YOU :)

You’ve never been this close to the stage before. The lights are blinding, and the bass thumps so loud you can feel it in your chest, vibrating through your entire body. You’ve seen Twenty One Pilots live before, but this is something different. This is intimate. Front row, close enough to almost touch the band, close enough to feel the energy pulse through you like an electric current.

The crowd around you screams as the music starts, and your heart races in anticipation. Tyler's voice fills the arena, smooth yet raw, while Josh sits behind the drums, pounding away with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. You can barely take your eyes off him. His cotton candy pink hair shines under the spotlights, his arms moving with impossible speed, muscles flexing with every hit. You’ve always had a bit of a crush on Josh, but seeing him this close is something else entirely. He is magnetic.

You try to focus on the music, letting yourself get lost in the moment like everyone else around you. But every now and then, your gaze drifts back to Josh. And that’s when it happens. For the briefest second, in the middle of a song, he looks directly at you. You’re not imagining it. His eyes flick over the crowd, then land on you. It’s like the air around you shifts. His lips curve into a small, almost imperceptible smile, and then he goes back to drumming, but the connection lingers.

You brush it off, thinking it’s just a coincidence. After all, there are hundreds of people in the crowd. Why would he notice you? But as the show goes on, you keep catching him glancing in your direction. Every time, his gaze seems to linger a little longer. During the bridge of one song, he stands up, walks around the front of the stage while Tyler plays solo, and again, his eyes find yours. This time, he winks.

Your breath catches in your throat. Is this really happening? You can’t believe it. Your whole body feels like it’s buzzing, your skin tingling under the heat of his attention. It feels like the whole arena has faded away, and it’s just the two of you. His energy is palpable, almost overwhelming, and you feel yourself getting lost in it, in him.

As the show nears its end, you think that will be it. A few stolen glances, maybe a wink, and nothing more. But then, during the last song, Josh does something unexpected. He leans to the side between drum beats and says something to a security member. The man looks at you, and Josh nods before continuing to bash the drums.

The rest of the concert passes in a blur. You’re barely aware of the music anymore, your mind racing with possibilities. By the time the final notes ring out and the crowd erupts into applause, you’re trembling with a mix of excitement and nerves. You can’t believe this is happening.

As fans start to leave the venue, you are still waiting at the front of the barricade. Your heart pounds, and you have no idea what to expect. You’re standing there, trying to calm your racing thoughts, when a hand taps you on the shoulder.

You spin around to find a security guard, towering over you with an unreadable expression. “I’ve been asked to bring you backstage,” he says.

You follow him through a maze of corridors, your pulse quickening with each step. Finally, you reach a door labeled ‘Dressing Room.’ The guard opens it, and you step inside, your stomach flipping with anticipation.

Josh is there, sitting casually on a couch, a towel draped over his shoulders, still damp from the show. He looks up as you enter, his smile widening. “Hey,” he says, standing up and crossing the room toward you. Up close, he is even more stunning. His skin glistens with sweat, and his eyes have that same intensity that drew you in earlier.

“Hi,” you manage to say, your voice shaky. You’re not sure what to do with your hands, so you shove them awkwardly into your pockets.

“You look like you’re having fun out there,” he says, his voice low and smooth as he looks you up and down. He stands so close now you can feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint scent of sweat mixed with something else, something distinctly him.

“Yeah, I—I love your music,” you stammer, your cheeks burning.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through you. “Thanks. I noticed you. All night, I kept catching your eyes.” He reaches out, brushing a stray hair from your face. His fingers linger against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You swallow hard, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to process what is happening. All you can focus on is how close he is, how his hand now rests lightly on your waist, drawing you even closer.

“I don’t usually do this,” he murmurs, his lips inches from yours.

Your breath hitches, and you find yourself leaning into him, drawn by some invisible force. “Do what?”

“This.” And then, without warning, he closes the gap between you, his lips crashing against yours.

The kiss is fierce, hungry, and you melt into it, your hands finally finding their place against his chest. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips, his heartbeat strong and steady. Josh's hands tighten around your waist, pulling you even closer until there is no space between you. The room spins, and all you can think about is him—his lips, his touch, the way he makes you feel like the only person in the world.

Things escalate quickly, the intensity of the moment wrapping you both up in a whirlwind of heat and desire.

Josh's lips move expertly against yours, igniting a fire within you that spreads through every cell in your body. You can taste the sweetness of his mouth, feel the slight roughness of his stubble against your soft skin. His hands roam over your curves, mapping out the contours of your body as if committing every inch to memory.

You press closer, your breasts flattening against his firm chest, your hips grinding instinctively against the hardness growing between his thighs. The friction sends jolts of pleasure coursing through you, making your head spin and your knees weak.

Breaking the kiss momentarily, Josh trails his lips along your jawline, nipping gently at your earlobe before whispering, “God, you're beautiful.” His hot breath sends shivers down your spine, and you tilt your head to give him better access.

You groan softly as your lips meet his once more, pouring all of your pent-up desire into the kiss. His hands slide down your back, coming to rest on the swell of your hips as he pulls you flush against him. Fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, he holds you steady as you feel his hard length against you. The friction is maddening, stoking the flames of your arousal higher with each passing second.

“I want you so bad,” he breathes against your lips, his voice husky with need.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeats. “God, I can’t get enough of your touch, your taste… everything about you just drives me wild,” he pushes you against the door.

“Fuck, Josh,” you groan, feeling everything. His hands roam your body with increasing urgency, squeezing your ass. Lips attacking your neck, he nips and sucks at the delicate skin there.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands, his words muffled against your throat. “I'll give it to you, anything, just please... let me make you mine.”

“God yes, yes,” you pant.

“Oh, baby, you have no idea what I’m gonna do to you,” he rasps, his lips traveling down your neck to your collarbone. He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive bud while his other hand teases the other breast. Your heart races beneath his touch, your breath ragged as he works to drive you wild. It’s intoxicating, knowing he has power over you. Your free hand slides down to palm your sex through your pants. “Let me take care of you, Y/N.”

You let out a groan, grinding yourself on his hand in a desperate attempt to feel something. He starts to rub slow circles over your clothed sex, feeling the heat radiating from your core. “That's it, baby,” he encourages, his fingers deftly unbuttoning your pants and slipping inside to stroke your bare folds. “Don't hold back. Let me hear those sexy sounds you make when you're turned on.”

He pushes a finger inside your tight heat, groaning as you clench around him. Slowly, he starts to pump in and out, curling his digit to hit that special spot that makes you see stars. “So fucking tight,” he grunts, adding another finger and scissoring them to stretch you open. “Gonna fill you up so good, Y/N.”

“Fuck, fill me up,” you groan. Almost immediately, he strips you of your jeans and panties, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to his desires. Grabbing your hips, he lifts you almost effortlessly, positioning you above his straining cock. Your entrance hovers mere inches away, teasing you.

“Are you ready for me?” he asks, his voice rough with barely restrained desire. “Ready to feel every thick inch of me stretching you wide open?” Without waiting for a response, he lowers you onto his shaft, groaning as your velvety walls engulf him. Inch by delicious inch, he fills you completely, until your hips meet and he is buried to the hilt inside your tight heat. Slowly, he starts to pump in and out, curling his digit to hit that special spot that makes me see stars. 

“So fucking tight,” he grunts, adding another finger and scissoring them to stretch you open. “Gonna fill you up so good, Y/N.”

“Fuck fill me up,” you groan. Almost immediately he strips you of your jeans and panties leaving you exposed and vulnerable to his desires. Grabbing your hips he lifts you almost effortlessly, positioning you above his straining cock. 

“Are you ready for me?” he asks, his voice rough with barely restrained desire. Without waiting for a response, he lowers you onto his shaft, groaning as your velvety walls engulf him. Inch by delicious inch, he fills you completely, until your hips meet and he is buried to the hilt inside your tight heat. 

“Fuuuuck,” you hiss through clenched teeth, fighting the urge to climax instantly.

“You feel incredible, baby. Like you were made just for me,” Josh groans.

As Josh's words echo in your ears, you feel his cock pulse inside you, the fullness making you gasp. His hands grip your hips tightly, anchoring you in place as you both take a moment to catch your breath. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending electrified by the intensity of the moment. You can feel his heartbeat, fast and erratic, matching your own. The connection between you is undeniable, a magnetic pull that neither of you can resist.

Slowly, he starts to move, lifting you up just enough before pulling you back down onto him. The friction is exquisite, a delicious stretch that has you biting your lip to keep from crying out too loudly. His thrusts are slow but deep, each one sending waves of pleasure through your body, building a tension in your core that begs for release.

You wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder as you cling to him, letting him take control. He sets a rhythm, steady but intense, his breath hot against your ear as he groans with each thrust. “God, Y/N, you feel so fucking good,” he whispers, his voice strained with desire.

Your body responds instinctively, your hips meeting his thrusts with increasing urgency, the need for release growing unbearable. Every movement, every touch, every sound heightens the pleasure until it is almost too much to bear.

Josh’s hands roam your body, one sliding up to cup your breast while the other grips your ass, guiding you in time with his thrusts. You can feel the tension in him too, the way his muscles tense with each movement, his breaths coming out in short, ragged gasps.

You’re close, so close, and you can tell he is too. “Josh, I—” you gasp, unable to form a coherent thought as the pleasure builds to a fever pitch.

“Let go, baby,” he rasps, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his own release. “I’ve got you.”

That is all it takes. With one final thrust, the tension inside you snaps, and you cry out as the orgasm rips through you, your body trembling with the force of it. Josh follows moments later, his entire body tensing, muscles flexing as he erupts inside you. Thick ropes of cum pulse from his twitching cock, flooding your insides with his essence. Each spurt seems to go on forever, painting your walls with his release. Slowly, the intensity of your orgasms begins to ebb, leaving behind a warm, tingling sensation that spreads throughout your limbs. He cradles you close, his arms wrapped tightly around your quivering form as you both struggle to catch your breath.

“That was... incredible,” he chuckles softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“Yeah. Wow.” He kisses you again, this time slow and gentle, as if savoring the moment.

As you finally pull apart, reality starts to creep back in. You suddenly feel self-conscious, standing there half-naked in the dressing room of one of your favorite musicians. But Josh doesn’t seem fazed at all. He just smiles at you, his eyes soft and warm, and for a moment, it feels like everything is perfect.

“Are you okay?” he asks, genuine concern etched across his face.

You nod, still trying to process what just happened. “I’m more than okay.”

“Good.” He grins, leaning in to give you another sweet kiss. The heat of the moment lingers, but the adrenaline slowly gives way to a soft warmth that envelops you both.

Josh reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I don’t usually bring fans back here, but there was something about you,” he says, his voice low and sincere.

You can’t help but smile, your heart racing all over again. “I’m glad you did.”

He takes a step back, his gaze lingering on you as if he’s memorizing every detail. “So, what now? Do you have any plans?”

You shake your head, feeling giddy. “No, not really. Just came to see you guys perform.”

“Then how about we hang out for a bit? Just the two of us?” he suggests, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you reply, your heart fluttering.

He pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Great. Let’s just take a minute to breathe, alright? You blew my mind, and I want to make sure we enjoy this.”

You nod, feeling a sense of bliss wash over you. As you sit together on the couch, the sound of the after-show excitement fades into the background. For the first time since you arrived, you feel completely at ease, reveling in the moment with him.

//

REQUESTS OPEN

[reimenaashelyee]

The World in Deeper Inspection UPDATE Read: (Chapter 1: Pages 57 to 68) (COMPLETED)

About the comic

Grimsley confronts the man who set him on this goose chase.

And with that… that’s the end of the 10th Anniversary revamp!! Can’t believe it took me almost a year to get this short project done, but blame my school and day job for that! *drives the nail into the TWIDI IS NOT DEAD sign deeper into the wall*

It was enlightening to reinterpret my first ever completed comic (more complete than the strips and unfinished or one-off shorts I had done prior) – basically the one that started me down the road to a career as a published author. I was happy to see how much my style had improved – not just in the layout, flow and pacing – but in how my characters have become more expressive and energetic, and how comfortable I am with the cartooning. Here is the proof that drawing comics helps you get better at comics!! It only took 10 / 11 years!

Plus, after a long while of drawing with a more reserved, professional approach (see: Seance Tea Party, Alexander Comic), I enjoyed the abandon and whimsy of TWIDI. The lettering is inconsistent all over but that only adds to the handmade whimsical charm of TWIDI, so lol.

Anyway – I have the 10th Anniversary ebook edition up on my Ko-fi and itch.io! This edition carries both the original and revamped versions of Chapter 1. No new cover or illustration for it this time; I think they are perfect as they are.

I have been meaning to make a continuation of the end of TCM that bridges the start of Chapter 1. It’s a long time coming: a story that had somewhat existed since the early days of TWIDI in 2010. Hopefully I will find that stability in my life to return.

Open the cut below to see my notes.

There’s also nothing exciting here, EXCEPT I severely cut down on the number of panels (and the verbiage).

As with the previous spread I cut down and distilled a lot of the verbiage. I shifted the dialogue slightly so that the reveal that Mr. Brown is a Lord comes from Grimsley (in 2013, Mr Brown never admitted he was an aristrocrat until this page) – it made more sense since Grimsley had gotten the info independently from the newspaper article and Andrew, and Mr Brown not mentioning it himself fits with his whole lying thing. For this spread and the next couple of them I am zooming out the panels to include more scenery. The 2013 layouts felt very claustrophobic, with the over-reliance on bust shots of the characters to carry the tension of the conversation.

Some more dialogue trimming and background scenery. I decided to change the setting for the chase sequence to be within the cemetery – just ’cause it makes more sense than if it was done all around Brookham. The panelling for it is a bit more dynamic too – look, Grimsley is parkouring!!

I have no idea why 10 (actually, 11) years ago I had so much trouble conveying and pacing this sequence of Mr Brown being set on fire. That’s the hindsight of experience, I guess??? Anyway I added a few more panels for actual build-up, and the blocking is way better now – there’s more energy (especially Skeleton’s expressions) and clarity (omg we can finally see where and what’s happening to the lamp). The last panel is a new addition to better connect with the next spread. Also… I am excited to see how much further I can draw Mr. Brown’s demise.

Man, the difference some changes in pacing can make. I added some panels with witnesses to the fire, just to emphasise why Grimsley and Skeleton have got to run. It’s crazy enough if a Brookie has got to witness immolation in the middle of the Night, but two paranatural spookies??? Also human fat has such a colour hdsjkfhsdkf the things that come out of an immolated body are so eerie….

The 2013 spread is almost perfect. 18 Year Old Me got it.

[cocogum]

Let’s TALK about episodes 9 and 10 people… (part 2)

PART 1 : HERE

(‼️SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4‼️)

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And of course, we got Qilby who’s finally got the eliatrope dofus back and left the chat. I liked how he was talking to Shinonome tho even if she was still in their shared dofus. This taught me that even if one sibling is alive, they can still communicate with their twin in their dofus.

And here we go again with Qilby wanting to make A NEW ELIACUBE. Only this time, he’ll name that one the “Eliasphere”.

Because of this, it was finally confirmed that Lokus was a mechasm. And it all makes perfect sense now.

When Qilby finally reached Lokus’ heart, we get flashes and quick imageries of those very same mechasms. When we pause on every single one of them, we get to see these:

(I love how these mechasms kinda look like biblical angels tho lol)

Yeah, we’re screwed.

And then we’re back with Yugo and my god he keeps convulsing so much I’m so confused as to how he can keep talking so normally after all this.

I didn’t even try to screenshot this at a good angle, this is exactly what happened when I just took it. It’s perfect.

ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS SHOT?!? I know how some of us have seen this scene as a preview for the episode but I just LOVE how good this looks. The colors and the vibe are sending me!! I still also remember how people used to theorize on who this could have been lying down in front of Toross back when we didn’t know it was Yugo. I heard things like Amalia, Nora, Yugo obviously, and even Efrim. Those were some fun times…

Bro. I can’t stop staring.

I know he’s going through hell right now but like….damn he’s built. He’s such a slut.

*clears throat*

😩❤️‍🔥💖🎶DADDY’S HOME🎶💖❤️‍🔥😩‼️‼️‼️

I believe his growth and powers should get elevated to fight stronger opponents which is why I am happy that he grew 🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢 I only want the best for him after all 🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢

Yugo just accepted death when you think about it. When Oropo explained to him what the necromes would do and what would become of him, Yugo was lost yes but he accepted it. He welcomed it even. Right after that, we see him fighting with Bouillon and smiling. He’s smiling when he shouldn’t be. But because Oropo told him he’d make him stop thinking about the outside world, he’s smiling. The slow process of his death was currently happening and Yugo couldn’t do a thing.

That’s what frustrates me but makes me admire Yugo. It’s the fact that he always gets so close to death but when he learns that there’s finally nothing he can do about it, he just accepts it.

I think that’s pretty respectable but….

WHY DO U THINK LIKE THAT?!?!?

Honestly he can be even dumber than Dally sometimes.

He’s such a dummy THAT HE’S SMILING LIKE A DUMBASS CHILD WHILE FIGHTING BOUILLON

I just-

I can’t handle his smugness stop.

STOP!!!

But in all seriousness tho I gotta address Nora.

Because omg Nora.

I genuinely feel so horrible for her.

She spent thousands of years searching for her mother with Efrim. She spent so many years of her life looking for her mother and never gave up. She almost lost the connection and then got it back and when she finally found her, she lost Efrim, then went with her mother and has done nothing else but listen to her mother, give out orders for her, and try to be the center of the family circle so she could keep its balance.

She has realized that she will no longer be able to be reborn like her other siblings and will eventually stay stuck in her dofus for all eternity. She is aware that when she dies, she won’t be remembered by her other siblings and her place in the council of six will fade away as if all those thousands of years spent with them happened for nothing. The only one who will remember her will be Qilby who will think of her as the long-lost sister none of the others remember and will ever get to meet her. She will disappear in the face of the krosmoz and will never come back.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, she gets tricked by Efrim and gets statufied so that her powers can be used by Toross whenever he wants to. Her situation became ironic, even laughable too. Because now, instead of dying and not being able to go back to her dofus, she is physically incapable of moving and will forever be used by Toross. No matter the outcome, Nora can’t come back to her dofus. Compared to Yugo, Toross doesn’t let out a tear at his action inflicted on Nora and instead thanks her. Nora’s last memory of all of this is Toross telling her how the world will have nothing but hunger.

“You can't do this! Have mercy! Don’t make me responsible for the end of the world!”

In the end, her last word was her brother’s name.

Nora deserved more.

All she had done as of now was help others and try to fix what she could. She never stopped to think about what she could’ve done for herself.

That Qilby vs Lokus fight is just *chef’s kiss*

“My brother, my king.”

Qilby is a real legend.

Now some people might wonder why his death was considered a sad one when he can just die, get reborn, and not lose any of his memories. While that is technically true, he’s not losing anything. And that’s exactly why it’s sad. Qilby can’t lose anything no matter what he does. Which is why he had no trouble dying. If dying meant helping Yugo find some way to obtain Lokus’ heart, then he’d do it. Unlike his siblings, he’s the only one able to confidently have that mindset and say it’s nothing to worry about. He did it for his king so that like he told Yugo:

“I hope that when we wake up, the planets will still be here.”

And this is why Yugo cried for him.

Despite being rejected over and over again, despite being called a traitor, despite being called a monster and a killer, Qilby stayed true to himself even until the end. Qilby’s sense of wonder and curiosity, the very same things that had made him look like a freak to Yugo, is what saved his king.

[vespertiliox]

Batjokes sexlife, 18+

Just a random little writing because I was thinking about them being toxic and gross. Warnings for violence, no discussion of s&m scenes, nonexistent kink etiquette, probably dubious consent.

I did not proofread. I just wrote it in 10 mins and posted it lol.

————

Bruce’s relationship with the clown was a difficult one to explain. Luckily, it seems most had given up in hoping for a palatable answer regarding their relations. An obvious game of cat and mouse, one that Bruce had remained in denial about for many years - though it seemed clear to anybody who got close to him.

They were obsessed with each other, yes.

Their lives would be better off with the other dead, yes.

But neither could picture a life without the other. Batman stalked the night with the anticipation of catching on to Joker’s next scheme, and the clown orchestrated the performance to draw Bats in.

It was, unfortunately, much easier to explain how the sex had begun. Streaked with blood, flattened upon each other far above the city lights. When scrabbling turned to grinding, split lips connecting, and - well. Instinct took over from that point.

Joker was delighted at the progression of their entanglement. Bruce was devastated, but unable to resist the instances that it occurred.

Which was strange. There was not some dance to seduce him, really, and at first he wasn’t convinced the criminal was even gleaning any pleasure from the exchange. No matter how long it continued on, the unreadable reactions continue.

And yet, the joker continued to seek him out. Instigating bruising kisses, surprisingly sharp nails digging into whatever exposed skin was available.

All coiled muscles, tight and ready to spring at any point. Writhing as if attempting to escape from beneath Bruce’s hulking form, but if he tried to retreat?

“Can’t keep it up, batsy?” Always a teasing barb, self-satisfied grin beaming up at him.

Joker never prepared himself. Batman had to put his foot down on the absolute necessity of lube, at first, which was the only thing the clown seemed open to compromising on. He wanted it to hurt, he’d said, he wanted to feel it.

And it did hurt, Bruce could tell. There was some perverse part of him that was spurred on by the idea, but he was only convinced to continue when he was certain the Joker did crave this as much as he himself did.

Joker was a masochist. Anyone could have guessed, perhaps. Maybe they would believe he was only a sadist, had they never fought him before.

Despite the vague understanding that Joker enjoyed their fights for reasons far more physical than the mental power play, when he’d first demanded to be struck Bruce had been shocked. Akin to a bucket of ice water being dumped over his head, he froze up. It was their third time, at this point, of doing this particular song and dance.

“Hit me, bats. Hit me. Hit me, hit me, hit me.”

Bruce had ceased his movement, but that did not deter Joker. Writhing to continue impaling himself at the same pace that had been previously set, blown eyes focused intensely on the man above him.

“Hit me.” This was snarled, bit out with force. Patience wearing thin at Bruce’s inaction.

And so, he did, fist connecting across the jaw.

The reaction was almost instantaneous, a beat to process and shake the newfound dazedness out of his eyes. Then came the most pleasured noise Bruce had heard him make during the course of their hook ups.

Green eyes rolled back, jaw hanging low. Joker’s entire body went still. It wasn’t necessarily a pretty orgasm, by any means, and ended with dry and heaving peals of laughter.

Bruce threw up in the shower that evening.

The worst was in a similar position. Joker shoved bodily up against the wall, pants dangling off of one leg, shirt ripped open to expose the rest of him. He’d been goading Bruce into being rough with him, rougher when it hadn’t been enough to satisfy. Twisted, foul words.

And Batman could not deny that Joker’s reaction to the pain was intoxicating.

Though he’d gone a bit far, pushed to the point of genuine frustration. With a hand around the clowns jaw, Joker’s skull cracked against the wall behind him.

The pale limbs went nearly limp, eyes clouded as they danced around somewhere far above Bruce’s cowl.

Joker mumbled something nonsensical as he was lowered to the ground, to be better supported snugly in the vigilante’s lap. There was a brief giggle when those disturbed eyes sharpened up again.

“J?”

“Again. Do that again.”

Bruce did as he was asked.

That time, Joker had been the one to throw up. After two more blows to the head and a shot to the liver, and a few orgasms later. Curled up on concrete as bile retched past his lips, wheezing out chuckles when his diaphragm stopped spasming. Babbling incessantly about how Batman made him feel, how they were made for this.

Bruce scrubbed his own skin raw once he returned to the manor.

There was no easy explanation for their relationship, what it meant, where it was going. But the answer to why did the sex continue?

They needed it.

[cheesecakethots]

Ok but that chrollo/ johan ask got me thinking.... If you had to be kidnapped and spend the rest of your life with them, who'd you choose? Whose more bearable? Johan or chrollo??

Also i love your johan works. Dont feel discouragement from writing more on him becuz smtimes feels hard to write.

ahhh thank you!! no legit he is so hard to write, but i might reread monster soon to get my mind flowing

gosh in a totally fictional scenario where i wasn’t a lesbian, i have no clue.

(read more because this got long lol)

chrollo has the positives of he’s rich as shit, and wherever you stay is going to be glamorous. problem is you’ll probably have to move around a bunch, so you might be sticking to hotels. that might be so much more stressful, being kidnapped by this jackass and not even being able to settle in or get over jet lag before he tells you to pack your stuff, because he’s got another job on the other side of the world.

johan drifted from house to house during the show/manga, and didn’t stay put for long. if you’re with him during that time, well it’s going to be nothing compared to the lavish lifestyle chrollo has. but, you’re definitely more likely to be able to escape from johan than chrollo. he’ll probably account for that, so let it be known he’ll have an eye on you 99% of the time.

chrollo & johan give off that similar, gentlemanly manipulative vibe.

chrollo is definitely more overt with it, though. you could maybe call that a positive, because you’re less likely to fall for it, but it’s definitely more aggravating. you could be playing up a little, pushing him away, shouting, trying to run, and he’ll just say something like “hm. you’re right, dear. maybe we should visit your parents. i would certainly love to introduce myself to them properly.” and boom you shut your mouth at the clear threat in his otherwise monotone voice. i’m not sure if he’d actually go through with it, but neither are you. maybe don’t try and find out.

johan, on the other hand, is generally less willing to be so manipulative with you. i feel if he had a connection with someone other than anna for the first time in his life, someone who made him feel less of a monster and more whole, he wouldn’t want to treat them as he treats everyone else. manipulating you so overtly would make him feel like a monster again and definitely would hurt his feelings quite a bit.

buuut, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t do it at all.

johan has been manipulating and moulding people since he was a very young boy. it might be something he just sometimes does without realising. maybe he’ll mention things he knows you like in an effort to strike up conversations with you, and to make you like him more. maybe he’ll mention sad things that happened in your life, before he took you away. stuff like that, so nothing really on chrollo’s level. but, i would still say it sucks, because you’re more likely to become accepting and even… loving to a degree. you can’t help but feel a little bad for the guy.

i don’t think chrollo would physically punish you for running, as he wants to keep up that gentlemanly facade. don’t push him too far, you don’t want to see what’ll happen if he decides to drop it. he’s faster and stronger than you will ever be, so one second you could be shouting, screaming and hitting at the blank expression on his face, and the next cradling a broken wrist while he tuts and coos at you. don’t test it.

johan would NEVERRR physically hurt his darling. worst would be using maybe a needle to knock them out, but he’d feel bad about it. i don’t think he could bring himself to hurt your family or friends, either. i’m not even sure he’d punish a darling at all. maybe more locks, but he’d feel like the monster he believes he is if he tied you down to a bed to keep you from leaving. he might forcibly hold you close for a bit, just to keep himself grounded.

overall, i actually don’t know. johan seems like the better answer, but the idea of actually feeling bad for him or eventually loving him makes me feel >:/. not sure if i would be able to refrain from screaming into a pillow or punching myself unconscious if i had to deal with chrollo, though. (he’s a bastard. i love him).

i guess at least when johan gets you flowers or something you like, it’s for your enjoyment alone. when chrollo does it, sure, it’s nice to see you happy… but it’s mainly to make you like him a little more or prove to you (and himself) that you can be happy with him.

both are definitely better choices than illumi, though. fuck that.

[kithtaehyung]

minted: part two (snippet) (m) | myg

snippet: minted: part two (m) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , action ; haegeum au , gang au series: masterlist | part one summary: after a whirlwind of a detour, you have second and third thoughts about the guy you saved. who even is this man? and what the hell is in that bag? note: holy shit, y’all. thank you so much for the love on this series already! it’s been a minute since we started a new series here, so nerves were firing on all cylinders. but you all showed out and gave me enormous relief and motivation to keep going, so thank you! enjoy this snippet since i missed the initial part two drop! note 2: this series is for @sailoryooons, @joonary, and @minttangerines! love you all! warnings: language, violence, weapons (guns/knives/chopsticks/etc.), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, trauma, poor reader :(((, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, yoongi visuals in this one areeee…, tension, tense situations, crass af yoongi lol, reader is also a baddie but who is shocked, slow burnnnn est. drop date: september 16th, 2024 snippet word count: 1.5k est. total word count: 9k >:))

—

—

There’s something to be said about the human gut. 

Not because it’s the source of multiple health aspects, or the way it’s connected to the brain. 

But, other than when violence tears it to shreds, it can be quite the defense mechanism. Just like yours churns and churns with each mechanical click of the elevator shaft.

Who is this person next to you? 

Who exactly did you decide to follow upstairs hours ago, killing your daily life to save and join on the run? 

You don’t know if you released your hand or if Yoongi let it fall, but you take this unlinking to create space. As you slide your gaze toward your companion, he merely shifts his weight and finds interest in increasing, beeping numbers.

How can someone’s profile be so troublingly handsome? You’d be able to think more clearly if he wasn’t both attractive and dangerous. Or if you simply weren’t on the verge of collapse.

Frankly, if you didn’t just murder a man you’d pass out as soon as you took too long to blink. 

To keep yourself alert—and to hopefully gather some much needed intel—you suddenly question aloud, “Where are we?”

No answer.

Alright.

“That driver called you Agust,” you recap on a second go. “What was that about?”

All Yoongi does is stare at his reflection in opulent, dim mirrored walls. Or whatever else he’s doing besides talking. 

Okay. Well.

You can face forward, too. 

“Those guys after us,” you try a third time, because who are you to give up now even if he radiates annoyance. “They didn’t look like Crane.”

“Doesn’t mean they weren’t.”

Your neck almost snaps when you turn. “Are you kidding me?”

As you watch Yoongi scorn the ceiling again, you can’t believe he doesn’t agree. 

Mm. Does he?

From the flex of his jaw, you have to assume you’re right to some degree. Because it looks like he’s very, very bothered by the people that chased you down. 

If those weren’t any of the high-powers but had equal resources and numbers…

What the hell were they? Where did they even come from?

Geez, it’s freezing. Is a drop in temperature the best barrier to you making sense of things? You can’t even appreciate the way Yoongi’s veins protrude with every adjustment he makes to that mysterious duffle bag.

Lies. You absolutely can. But there’s no way in hell you’re ever complimenting that. Or anything about him anymore because he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you! 

Why did he even hold your hand? Was that just a ploy, too? 

But that taxi drive…

Yoongi looks down before lightly scuffing his shoe, and both of you fall silent as you finally give up with a huff. 

Massively dehydrated. Sore. Still covered in a myriad of unmentionables and now being ignored by the guy you saved. 

All you wanna do is go home, and you don’t even know where that is. 

How far did you travel? What district is this? You’ve never heard of a grey zone, but they seem fairly peaceful even at night. Neutral enough for you to consider relocating even if it meant sleeping on the street.

That brings up another question. “If we’re in a grey zone, how did you know—”

A ding interrupts your last thought, and you look to see where you ended up.

But the elevator doesn’t say a number. Only letters? What kinda floor did you stop on? 

One thing’s for sure, though. Whatever room you end up getting, if there’s only one bed you’re hogging it or taking the…

Floor…

There are many things that have shocked you in your lifetime. Many things just from today that had your head positively and forever reeling. 

But when the elevator doors slide open, you can’t even fathom what the fuck you’re dealing with. 

And in this second, more than ever, you understand how ludicrously out of your element you really are. 

“Holy shit,” you blurt, barely hearing the huff at your side.

Don’t elevators usually open up to hallways? Why are you walking into an entire living space? Is this a real place people choose to sleep in for a night? A whole floor?

Forget a whole floor, it’s a whole other place.

You slowly survey everything, wondering how much this has to be because you have never seen a living space so big. Or pretty. Or anything like this.

The ceilings vault and the furniture looks nothing like you’ve ever seen. Everything looks pristine. Clean. Is that a whole kitchen?

How are there living arrangements this big? This one place is bigger than your entire apartment level back home. 

And here you are: speechless, virtually homeless, and dragging your filth onto white marble floors. 

Perfect.

“What.” 

You turn at the scrape of Yoongi’s voice, wondering why now is when he finally chooses to acknowledge you. Head pounding, you ask outright, “Who… Who even are you? What is this place?”

He levels your stare before walking towards a long couch, dumping the duffle and raking his hair back in minted waves. “There’s a shower in every bedroom. Take your pick.” 

…Is that really his only response?

“That’s not what I asked,” you fire back, wondering what the hell his problem is so you can add more out of spite.

“But it’s what you need.”

“Say what now?” 

The fucking nerve? Even though you obviously, desperately need one, hearing him mention it makes you wanna re-use the chopsticks in your pocket. 

But Yoongi simply waves you off, grabbing a remote and flicking on a television so wide you would struggle to reach both ends. 

This is all too much. 

“You know what I need? To go home,” you huff out, leaving fire in your determined trek to the elevator. “Have a nice life, Yoongi. Or Agust. Whoever the fuck you are.” 

You get to the door and run into a dirt-slicked forearm, and the voice you hear courses through your ears, “The fuck are you doing?”

“Shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.”

“You serious?”

“Yes, I am. So move.”

Yoongi pauses, jaw working overtime before he steps aside wait he’s gonna let you go that easily? 

…Oh.

That was certainly not what you expected, but what else would you even think? This isn’t one of those stories that ends perfectly after trials and tribulations. Yoongi has proven more than once—in mere hours—that he’s no regular civilian. Nor man, for that matter.

But despite that, you blink before freezing at a terrible realization. 

No matter how you slice it, you’re much better off with him than you are by yourself right now. Even if he is a secretive criminal with a smoking gun. 

He did keep you alive that whole chase.

But there’s the smallest, tiniest chance that you aren’t quite safe with Yoongi, either. You don’t even know who he is anymore—maybe you never did.

So in a quick decision, you skim his side to slap the elevator button, chucking daggers at his brows until he leaves you to wait alone.

Good. You don’t need this. You can find your way back to your city block somehow and live the life you’ve chosen to lead again. 

Yes. You can do all of that by yourself. The chase is done. 

And so is your story with the man that will never buy your tangerines again. 

Grabbing your sleeve, a second fact stings your fingers. A jacket woven in Dragon teal. 

Shit. You need to ditch this, too. Either right now, or before you get the hell out of this grey zone because if you don’t, this is the biggest target you could ever have on your back. 

No good. No good no good you didn’t plan any of this well at all. Fucking pride blinding you to everything else logical. Is this how your story ends? Because of regret and resistance? 

You wait for the sliding doors, about to leave the biggest room you’ll ever see to occupy a box. How poetic. 

Your heart pounds as you close your eyes. Yoongi just cut you loose; it’s obvious he doesn’t care so why should you? No going back now. You’ll figure it out. The doors are finally opening. 

And someone’s inside?

Wait.

Your brain both whirrs and skids to a halt at the sight of the staff member occupying the elevator. When they give you a look, you find your hand drifting towards your back pocket.

Fucking hell, relax. You should be safe with a hotel employee, right? They wouldn’t be out to kill you. This is just your adrenaline on its haunches. 

However, one foot in the elevator and your senses go haywire. 

Because you can’t do this alone. You aren’t nearly as prepared to brave this foreign space as you need to be. With red in your hands and Dragon on your back? Absolutely not. 

You bow to the hotel staff before you face forward into the expanse. 

And as the doors start to close, you see Yoongi’s stare over his shoulder, storming with emotions and words you can’t name.

Yeah.

You fucked up.

Fuck.

-

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tbc. :))

-

are we ready for the drop?! | join the taglist!

a/n: this is just the beginning!! who knowwwws what's gonna happen during the rest of the 9k+ lsdkfjdskl thank you all so much for hanging in there for me as i navigate multiple hobbies and endeavors. it means a lot to see your words of encouragement! always appreciated, and i hope you look forward to the real drop hehehe. more links: masterlist

[cloud-somersault]

BRO LITTLE MONKEY MK IN THE CONSTELLATIONS!COVENANT AU HAS MY HEART 💗😩 WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE’D GROW GARDENS AND FLOWERS ON WUKONG AND MACAQUE? THAT’S SO CUTE?!? DO YOU MEAN TO TELL ME WE WERE ROBBED OF THAT IN CANON!CONSTELLATIONS?!? DID WHATEVER FORCE MAKE MK “BE HUMAN” GET RID OF THAT TOO?!? COULD HE NOT EVEN GROW FLOWERS ON PIGSY WHEN HE WAS LITTLE?!? BRO THAT’S SO MESSED UP AND I DEMAND THIS POWER BE RETURNED TO HIM AT ONCE!!

*Ahem* Sorry for my loss of composure. He’s just too cute. I do have a few questions though if that’s alright: Specifically for the Covenant AU, was Shadowpeach happy about MK’s birth? What was Wukong’s reaction when he got back? (Also lol I can’t believe Wukong was attending a presentation in Heaven while MK was born like of all the times to be a nerd dude).

This one just applies to general Constellations: I recall a brief statement of Wukong’s that he worried that when he killed Macaque it caused their cycle to disrupt? And that’s why the fourth didn’t arrive/took so long, so did they have a way of knowing that they were supposed to be expecting someone else?

Ohhh, I've been waiting for that question about shadowpeach expecting other celestial primates. I'm surprised it hasn't been asked sooner!

Well, let's start with the Constellations Covenant AU first.

For this AU, MK is kept safe on Flower Fruit Mountain because Macaque is there to immediately go check out what that earthquake and the golden flowers were about. He basically sees a small monkey bawling covered in dirt and is like. "... Huh. This sure is similar to how we found Little Star." And goes and picks MK up.

Because MK is allowed to live on FFM, his memories of his birth are intact. Therefore, he knows he was born from soil, so his connection with the element of wood is allowed to flourish. This leads to him being able to cast wood spells through feeling alone. If he feels happy, he'll grow flowers that match his mood. Sunflowers, lilacs, daisies, whatever he wants.

Macaque and Wukong also display this deeper connection from their birth element. In the epilogue, Wukong is able to cast earth spells easily. And in Constellations, he remarks himself that casting earth spells is like child's play to him. Macaque has also said that he feels calm around bodies of water and is able to cast water spells quickly.

Since MK's in tune with the element of wood, he can just walk around and create gardens behind himself. He can sneeze and make a bouquet of flowers. When Wukong plays with MK and they play patty cake or peek-a-boo, MK gets so happy that he makes marigolds and chrysanthemums bloom in Wukong's hair. Wukong LOVES this.

Macaque gets lilacs and lavender. His voice is very soothing to MK, so MK finds it easier to fall asleep when he's near Macaque. He always crawls/tumbles toward Macaque when it's time for bed. Macaque also takes MK on errands sometimes, like checking in on residents on the mountain. MK will sleep through the majority of these visits LMAO

but MK also grows quite quickly since he's knowledgeable of his origins. He's not a baby monkey for long.

In constellations canon, MK could not grow flowers on Pigsy..he's not aware of his status of being a celestial primate, so his connection with wood isn't as strong as it could be. 😔

In covenant AU, Shadowpeach is VERY happy with MK's birth! They love him... Little Star has already been lost to them at this point, so they're happy to take care of him. This is also part of why Macaque is overprotective of MK.

Wukong, when he got back from viewing the magic presentation in Heaven, was very surprised to see Macaque with a baby monkey. He was like "Whose little one is this? No one was due today."

And Macaque has to go "This one was born from soil... He's like us."

And Wukong's tail starts wagging and he picks MK up and squeals like!! A new celestial primate, yippee!!

Wukong was attending that magic presentation because he's waiting for a certain kind of magic to be invented/discovered. Something that can help locate Little Star (this is also canon to Constellations in general).

Now, back to Canon!Constellations, when Wukong and Macaque were locked in their legendary battle that shook the heavens and lasted for days, Macaque was disguised as Wukong and no one could tell the difference between them. It was only due to divine intervention that they were able to figure it out, and that same divine intervention explained what Wukong and Macaque are to the Great Companions and Tripitaka. Basically like, "the reason why these two are so powerful and unlike any other creature is because they're celestial primates, of which there are four."

Little Star had already been born (and lost) at this point, so Wukong and Macaque were able to deduce that one primate was left. Also the fact that each of them are born from one of the elements led them to believe that there would be another.

So! When Wukong did a murder, and he went back to FFM after the journey, he worried that killing Macaque messed up something about that fourth primate being born. Since years went by and nothing happened, Wukong thought there wasn't going to be a 4th primate anymore.

That's why him being gone to Heaven is like. Believable. He had no clue MK was coming and had accepted such a thing probably wasn't going to happen.

[mattyalwayssmokesweed]

What makes you think Arya is going to be queen in the north?

A lot of things actually. This is going to be long.

First of all, in the first book, Ned tells Arya:

"You," Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, "will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon." — Eddard V, A Game of Thrones

I always thought that was significant, especially because then she tells Sansa, who at that moment was betrothed to an actual prince, this:

“Sweet one,” her father said gently, “listen to me. When you’re old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who’s worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong.” — Sansa III, A Game of Thrones

It could be nothing, really; to be honest, it could just be Ned trying to make his daughters feel better in the best way he could, but I still find it strange how it was exchanged between the sisters; Sansa will be betrothed to a Lord, and Arya to a Prince— it feels a little too much like foreshadowing. The Sansa part is more understandable because there’s only one Prince at the moment (well, two counting Tommen but he’s a bastard Baratheon, so of course he’s out of the equation just like Joffrey was), but then why would Ned say Arya will marry a prince, when it’s clear he has no intention of betrothing his daughters to the king’s sons?

Maybe because she is going to be crowned queen, and whoever she marries will be a king. How can she be crowned, if she’s in Essos currently training to be a Faceless Man?

That takes me to Lady Stoneheart, who Arya saved when she warged into Nymeria. Arya technically brought her mother back using her connection to her direwolf, and Beric Dondarrion gave her the kiss of life— so the gods decided to accept the exchange between Beric and Catelyn’s lives, but why? Because they (or R'hllor, more likely) are angry at the Freys for breaking the guest right, which is reffered to as a sacred law. If we take into consideration the story Bran is told about the Rat Cook, then we know the gods don’t like it when the guest right is broken, which to me means they brought Catelyn back to avenge everyone who had broken that sacred law— that’s why Lady Stoneheart is so vengeful even though she’s only been brought back once (she was dead for more time, I know, but still) in comparison to Beric, who only really suffered from memory lost and losing himself after six times being revived by Thoros of Myr, Catelyn came back even worse, which makes me believe she’s being used as a weapon by the gods, who are angry at the Freys.

Now, Lady Stoneheart, in the last time we see her, has Robb’s crown

In [Lady Stoneheart’s] hands was a crown, a bronze circlet ringed by iron swords. She was studying it, her fingers stroking the blade as if to test their sharpness. Her eyes glimmered under her hood. — Brienne VIII, A Feast for Crows

She’s holding onto that crown both for sentimental reasons (it belonged to her firstborn) and as a reminder of what the Freys did to her family. But I think she’s waiting for one of her children to appear. Now this is pure speculation, but I think Catelyn knows somehow her children are alive— maybe she met with Ned and Robb in the afterlife (is that how George calls Heaven? I can’t remember lol) and realized none of her other children are there except for Robb.

Now, even if that’s not true because it’s speculation, Catelyn is aware that Sansa was “de-legitimized” by Robb on his official will:

"A king must have an heir. If I should die in my next battle, the kingdom must not die with me. By law Sansa is next in line of succession, so Winterfell and the north would pass to her." His mouth tightened. "To her, and her lord husband. Tyrion Lannister. I cannot allow that. I will not allow that. That dwarf must never have the north." — Catelyn V, A Storm of Swords

So Sansa is no longer the next in line of succession because Robb “took her out” of the will, in a way. So who’s next, now that Robb’s heir, Jon, is also dead? And yes, we all know Melisandre is bringing him back, but between Jon and Arya who Catelyn would choose as the next ruler of the North?

Lady Stoneheart is waiting for one of her children to come to her so she can crown them, and given the connection Arya has with the Riverlands and that both Rickon and Bran are far away. If Rickon is smuggled by Davos, he’d be taken to White Harbor and presented to Wyman Manderly, which isn’t in anyway close to where the Brotherhood without Banners is; Bran is too busy being a tree. That only leaves us Arya.

Why do I think Arya is going to be crowned? Her direwolf is the alpha of a pack of wolves in the Riverlands; the Brotherhood without Banners knows Arya and would support her claim; Brienne and Jaime swore to protect the Stark sisters… it all comes together to Arya being queen, with Brienne and Jaime as part of her Queensguard, and the BwB as her army (and if Edric Dayne ever shows up, I believe he would also support her claim). She will be crowned in the Inn of the Kneeling Man, where the last King in the North, Torrhen Stark, kneeled to Aegon the Conqueror.

I don’t think it’s going to last, however— Arya might like or dislike being queen, we don’t know, but she would give the crown to either of her brothers (Jon, Bran or Rickon) without question. But I think it’s important that Arya, as Queen, leaves the northmen to take back Winterfell and for her to stay there until either one of her siblings comes back— which probably will be Jon since he’s the closest, but maybe it’ll be Rickon once Wyman hears the northmen have taken Winterfell with Arya as their queen. (Wishful thinking again, but we may even get an Arya and Rickon reunion in White Harbor and have the two siblings leaving the armies as queen and king)

Now, how will Arya get to the Riverlands if she’s in the House of Black and White training with the Faceless Men? I think there’s going to be big fallout between Arya and the Faceless Men, which will make Arya go back to Westeros and seek out Nymeria, and maybe even Gendry and the BwB in the last place she saw them. And if she hears her mother is back, she’s going to go look for her. Let’s remember this:

That night she went to sleep thinking of her mother, and wondering if she should kill the Hound in his sleep and rescue Lady Catelyn herself. — Arya XII, A Storm Of Storms

And this:

It was her mother she wanted, not her mother's sister. — Arya XII, A Storm of Swords

We are reminded constantly that Arya loves her mother. If she had the change to see her again, she’ll take it in a heartbeat. And once they meet again, Catelyn will crown her. Also:

"In that one she was always looking for her mother, stumbling through a wasted land of mud and blood and fire. It was always raining in that dream, and she could hear her mother screaming, but a monster with a dog’s head would not let her go save her." — Cat of the Canals, A Feast for Crows

Could be about the Red Wedding and Arya’s guilt for not being able to stop the Freys for murdering her family (which is obviously not her fault— she was just a kid and there was nothing she could’ve done), but it could also foreshadow their reunion.

So yeah, I believe Arya going to be Queen in the North, if not permanently. But I do think she’s going to take back Winterfell and kill the Boltons, especially when we know this:

Dressing her in grey and white serves no good if the girl is left to sob. The Freys may not care, but the northmen… they fear the Dreadfort, but they love the Starks. — The Turncloak, A Dance with Dragons

And:

What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned's precious little girl. — The Turncloak, A Dance with Dragons

The Northmen will help Arya and support her claim as Queen in the North is they discover Ramsay married a girl who was pretending to be Arya. I believe that would be the final push that would make them raise arms against the Boltons and go to Arya to help the Stark girl take back her home and her name, which Ramsay took from her and gave it to someone else.

[connan-l]

Colorful

Fandom: Natsume's Book of Friends Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Morinaga Souko/Natsume Reiko Summary: So many colors suited the forest girl that Souko couldn't assign a single one to her. Words: 7,123 Link: AO3 | Fanfiction.net

Notes: Believe it or not, I actually started writing this in 2018, and for some reason was never able to complete it lol. But I got so excited with the announcement of season 7 that I decided it was a good time to finish this, before we get to see those chapters get adapted.

Find out Reiko and Souko’s story still makes me cry even 5 years later, and I can’t wait to bawl about them once they’re animated!

* * *

People were always surprised when Souko told them she didn’t like the color blue.

It wasn’t like she hated it, but she just wasn’t very fond of it.

She liked green, yellow, purple, red — vivacious pigments that felt alive, cheery; hues that a child would love to use to paint one of his drawings.

Blue was just sad.

The watery tint of the deep sea, the cold tint of winter.

Souko loved assigning colors to people. She saw her father as a vibrant red, and her mother — from the little she remembered of her — as a soft purple. Her uncle was golden, her aunt orange, her grandmother green.

So although she didn’t hate it, a part of her always felt disappointed ‘blue’ was the color people associated with her the most — simply because it was what she’d been named after.

Sometimes, Souko thought it was a funny twist of fate, for her to bear the name of a color she only connected to sadness; a warped prediction of what her life would look like after she fell ill.

No one who met her after she got sick would believe it, but she actually used to be a very energetic child. Back then, she could spend the entire day running around and climbing to trees and playing all sorts of games outside with other kids, giving her father a hundred of panic attacks.

All of that crumbled away when her heart started to malfunction two years ago, and suddenly her whole body began to fall apart without her control.

It had been gradual. Slow and excruciating.

She barely noticed the first signs; the shaking in her hands, her frequent headaches, her legs incapable of walking or running for very long. One day on her way to school, she passed out — and just like that, she spent the following year practically unable to get out of bed.

Her life then withered away.

She couldn’t do any of the things she liked anymore, couldn’t go to school anymore, couldn’t see anyone but her family.

She stopped running and playing outside, and she stopped gardening, and she stopped cooking.

She didn’t really had any friends, as the shy girl she’d always been, but she’d still managed to have some decent relationships with some kids at school, at least.

Now she didn’t even had that anymore.

She withered, drowning away in a bottomless cerulean sea, and for a long, long time, nothing seemed to really matter anymore.

During those endless days, there was only two things she could do: read, which she took the habit of doing since then, and stare at her window. Her bedroom was in front of their garden, so she had a direct sight on the many colorful flowers her mother had planted there long ago, and that Souko had continued to take care of since then. But most of the times, it wasn’t the rainbow of flowers she would stare at, but the blue of the sky — getting lost in its infinity, her heart heavy with anguish and anger at her own life.

Dad had told her, once, that the reason why they named her ‘Souko’ was because she’d been born during a day with a completely clear blue sky. No clouds, no shade of gray, no sun; only blue and blue and blue, as far as the eye could see.

But as Souko kept staring at that same sky, the only thing she could think about was how profoundly empty that blue looked.

* * *

With the help of medications and reeducation, she slowly started to get better — but the doctors were unequivocal on the fact that she would never be able to move like she used to.

She had to limit her gestures, her outings, her breathing; she couldn’t run anymore, or barely so. She was getting better, but she still felt like she was imprisoned within her own body; a bird unable to get out of a cage of its own making.

But the worst wasn’t really any of this. It all weighted heavily on her, of course; but she could bear that. She didn’t really have a choice. The burden her illness had taken on her family, however, was another thing entirely.

The Morinaga household was constituted of only Souko and her father since her mother’s death when she was little, but her uncle and aunt lived nearby and were practically part of their home since as long as she could remember. Dad was very close to his brother, and so her uncle was almost like a third parent to Souko, always having been deeply involved in her life.

Thus her illness had repercussions not only on her father, but on her uncle, her aunt and the whole family. Everyone was always so tense whenever they came to see her, obvious tight smiles and stiff shoulders as they looked at her; and through the months she’d heard hundreds of arguments between her father and grandmother, between the two brothers, between most of her relatives, all about the same topics. What to do with her condition, with her treatment’s cost, with everything else.

Even Dad stopped looking at her like he used to, and instead a pained expression spread across his face every time his eyes met hers. She felt more like a poor little wounded animal he pitied than like his daughter.

That was the hardest part. The idea that not only her body was getting torn apart, but her family did as well — and that it was all her fault.

She couldn’t stand it. It made her want to run away.

Find a place far away; cut from all of her problems, where she wouldn’t have to worry about anything, and where she wouldn’t worry anyone.

A place to be all alone.

And then one night after dinner, Dad approached her with an awkward smile and addressed her in a gentle, careful voice:

"The other day the doctor made me an offer... I thought about it and it could be a good opportunity. He said that… to help with your convalescence, we could move to the countryside.”

At first, Souko wasn’t sure what to think of it.

Truthfully, she didn’t want to move.

She knew nothing at all about the small town where her dad wanted to go, and going there would mean losing all of the landmarks she’d known her whole life. It meant leaving their house where she grew up. Uncle and Auntie. Mom’s grave from a few meters away in the cemetery. Her school.

Souko might not have had any friends here, she still didn’t want to lose the relationships she had with the people of her hometown — and she didn’t want to have to make the effort to form new bonds with strangers.

The very idea made her stomach twist with anxiety. But she couldn’t turn Dad down; not when she knew he also probably didn’t want to move either, and that he only proposed that for her sake.

So against all of her better instincts, Souko agreed.

* * *

She couldn’t manage to assign any color to the forest girl.

No matter how hard she tried to, none of the choices — none of the different tints and shades and hues — seemed to fit her.

Or, rather, all of them fitted her.

The girl — her match companion, the teenager she’d met hidden within the deepest parts of the woods, like a rare, delicate diamond — was the most beautiful and fascinating person Souko had ever seen; ephemeral like a ghost, flippant like a cat and fluttering like a butterfly.

Her long silver hair seemed to change color with the sunlight; turning white or golden or purple contingent on the sky’s whims.

Souko blurted that out, once, without thinking much about it beforehand; and then regretted it right away, because of how childish it sounded.

The girl just laughed.

“Purple?” She repeated, and Souko felt herself blush. “Really?”

“B-Because, look… Your hair is so light, so it take on the dusk’s color. And when dusk turns orange, or pink, then your hair also…”

“Is that so.”

The girl looked over at the horizon, which was indeed starting to take on a mauve tint. For a moment, her companion seemed contemplative; then finally, she turned towards her again and grinned.

“Well, what do you think? Is purple my color?”

Souko felt the scarlet of her cheeks deepens even more, but she was able to muster the courage to actually reply truthfully: “I think every color is your color. You look pretty in everything.”

And that was true, too.

Souko could imagine her in red, pink, purple, orange, black and white — and that girl, her mysterious nameless acquaintance of the forest, would be just as wonderful and breathtaking as ever.

She would look beautiful and full of life even in blue.

Souko had never seen a person like that before, so radiant and mesmerizing that her eyes couldn’t stop staring at her, that her mind couldn’t help but think of her almost all the time.

For a very brief moment, the girl looked slightly taken aback; but she quickly seemed to get over it and simply smiled back at her.

The girl was always smiling.

It was a little disconcerting, sometimes — and it wasn’t that Souko didn’t like seeing her smile, but she just wished that smile looked actually genuine.

Once I’ll win, she swore to herself.

Once I’ll win, I’ll make her give me her name. I’ll make her become my friend — and then I’ll be able to make her smile for real.

* * *

“Oh, the candy’s blue.”

“Isn’t it pretty?”

“Yeah. Like the blue of Souko.”

Her voice resounded in her mind even long after the two of them parted way.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the manner she’d said her name. Softly, fleetingly, lost in the wind, like no one but the girl herself had been supposed to hear it.

The blue of Souko.

Souko had never been fond of her name. She’d never really liked the color blue.

And now, after all she’d been through, the only thing it managed to evoke to her was the emptiness of the sky as she looked through her room’s window stuck in her bed.

That was all the blue of Souko was to her.

But when the girl spoke it… When she said her name so softly, so longingly, Souko couldn’t help but love it.

The girl was a little like a fairy, Souko thought; an otherworldly being who seemed to be able to transform every bad aspects of her life into something magical.

Her name sounded beautiful when she said it. That town in the countryside seemed so fun now that she started spending time with her. Her new home, her tense family, her unfamiliar school and classmates — everything seemed bearable now that she had that girl by her side.

Even the color blue would surely feel warm and vivacious, if her secret companion started wearing some of it.

Before meeting the forest girl, Souko had simply not been able to feel at home anywhere in that town.

It wasn’t like people here weren’t welcoming — at the contrary, everyone was quite nice to her, but Souko still hadn’t been able to shake off the feeling that she simply didn’t belong. She’d always been a timid girl, but suddenly moving here while cutting all ties to her old life, added to the months she’d spent completely isolated from the world because of her illness, made her feel like she’d lost all of her social skills. She could barely handle normal conversations with the other kids, or with the townsfolk — always feeling like people were staring at her, judging her, monitoring her every moves. And even when she was alone, she couldn’t stand to be at her house either, in that unfamiliar place.

That was why coming in the middle of that forest, away from any form of life, away from her family and other people, was the only time that had finally made her feel a little comfortable — and that despite the fact this place had a strange ominous aura and sometimes gave her headaches.

And then she met the girl. The time she spent by her side, chatting idly and having silly matches and laughing together about nothing made her the happiest and most free she’d felt in months. Not since she fell ill.

The girl wasn’t always nice; she could be quite prickly and cold, and it wasn’t like Souko didn’t think that girl was... strange. Truthfully, she could be a little unsettling, or even scary sometimes. Occasionnally, she would just say weird things out of nowhere, or stared past Souko’s shoulder as if she was seeing someone behind her, or dragged her away from a place as if she was trying to run from something.

Something Souko couldn’t see.

(And, sometimes, Souko almost had the impression there really was something else with them, and that it wasn’t just the two of them in the middle of these woods.)

But even so, despite all of this, Souko still didn’t think she could, or wanted to, stop seeing the girl.

At least, she treated Souko like a normal person. She never walked on eggshells around her, even after she’d learned she was sick. And even with all her prickliness, Souko could tell that she had a kind heart, buried behind her sharp gaze and barbed comments. She wouldn’t have let Souko stay by her side otherwise.

The girl and those meetings were so odd, so detached from everything in her life — that sometimes Souko almost felt like she was hallucinating them. Like she was doing some forbidden rituals with a witch, and not just playing childish games.

There was only ever the two of them in that forest, after all — no one else here to confirm the real from the surreal.

Her rendez-vous with the forest girl was the most exciting part of her day, and she spent the whole time thinking about what new games they would play next.

Wishing that today would finally be the day she win — would be the day she finally earn her name.

Earn the right to be her friend.

“Are you going out again?”

Her father stopped her just as she was about to leave the house, and Souko startled. “Ah, yes…”

A worried look crossed his face. “Souko… I’m glad you seem to be so happy, lately — really, but… You need to be more careful. Your body is still…”

“I know,” Souko said, maybe a little more forcefully than she intended. Of course she knew her body was still frail. It was her body, after all — she understood the consequences of its weakened state better than anyone. “I’m careful, Dad, I promise. You don’t need to worry.”

But of course, that was probably a meaningless thing to say. Her father would always worry regardless of what she said.

“…Is that a friend that you see like that every day?” He asked. “I know you said you’ve been getting along better with your classmates lately…”

Souko opened her mouth, then hesitated a little.

She still hadn’t said anything to her father about the forest girl. She hadn’t said anything about her to anyone, period.

She wasn’t really sure why.

She’d told Dad about the classmates she’d started to talk to — they weren’t really friends yet, but they were nice, and Souko would like to become closer.

That, too, was thanks to the forest girl, in a way. It wasn’t like she had encouraged to talk to others or anything, but being able to have normal conversations with someone her age after having been isolated for so long had managed to cheer Souko up and make her feel braver.

The girl always looked so strong and confident, after all; solid as a rock, standing tall among the trees. Souko always felt like nothing could ever hurt or reach her.

So she’d thought that if she wanted to be worthy of befriending the forest girl, then she should try to befriend the more approachable kids at her school first.

But her classmates were different from the girl, and so Souko felt that she couldn’t simply tell Dad about her like she would with a normal classmate. Maybe she wanted to become friends with her for real before telling him — or maybe… maybe she just wanted to keep her as a secret. For now.

Something only Souko knew about.

Her father had still noticed the changes, though, and he looked simultaneously happy and worried about them. He’d already been very concerned from the start, when Souko went back to school, and then about the fact he could tell his daughter had clearly struggled to fit in at their new place. And now he clearly wasn’t happy about her escapades after school; didn’t like her going outside to play around in the forest. Souko sympathized with his feelings, knew that he was only worried for her; but it had been the best she’d felt in such a long time, and she wasn’t about to let that go.

Dad said nothing for a moment, then narrowed his eyes at Souko — and only when she noticed his suspicious look did she realizes that she was blushing.

“…Is that person you’re seeing a boy?”

“Wha— N-No! I-It’s not like that… we’re just…”

Her father laughed a little, and waved his hand. “Sorry, that’s none of my business. But you don’t need to be embarrassed about it, you know. It’s normal, at your age.”

“I-It’s really not like that…”

And it’s not a boy.

But Dad didn’t seem he would believe her no matter what she could say, so Souko felt it would be pointless to argue further. Instead, she went to her rendez-vous spot with the forest girl, and as usual they played together, Souko lost, and then they talked for a while. At some point, the girl took her hand and dragged her somewhere else. Her hand was rugged, and her skin sturdy — but it felt warm.

Souko wished she could keep holding her hand forever.

Maybe Dad isn’t entirely wrong, she thought then, looking at the girl’s pretty long hair flowing in the wind, her heart skipping a beat at the sight.

If she were a boy, maybe I would fall in love with her.

It would be so easy to fall for her. She was so beautiful and strong and fun. Souko was certain most boys at her school must be crushing on her.

(She’d inadvertently said this, one day, and to her utter surprise the girl bursts out laughing ; so hard she had to hold her stomach, and Souko had never seen her laugh so loudly and for so long before.

“No way!” She’d exclaimed after calming down. “Boys don’t like me, at all.”

“H-Huh?” Souko let out. She didn’t think she would lie about this, but she heavily doubted that was true. Maybe no one ever confessed to her, but there was just no way not a single person had at least some feelings for someone as charming as her.

The girl grinned, her green eyes boring straight into Souko’s. “I scare them. Well, to be honest, I don’t really like boys either.”

Souko didn’t know why, but at these words her cheeks flushed and she felt a small warmth of hope bloom in her chest.)

Late in the evening, when Souko came home, the first thing she did was going out in the garden, just as twilight was starting to set.

The place was still barren. Back at their old home, they used to have a garden with a lot of colorful flowers — hibiscus, daisies, orchids, tulips, marigolds… Her mother’s flowers, that Souko loved to take care of; the first thing she would see upon waking up, a rainbow of delicate, shiny petals. In their new house, a lot of things were different, but Dad had made a point to get her a bedroom where she could see the garden too, just because he knew how much Souko had liked it before.

She finally wanted to start feeling at home here, too. So maybe she could start by planting some flowers. Dad would probably like that as well — he’d loved their flowers too.

One day — after she’ll finally be able to learn the forest girl’s name and become her friend, Souko will invite her to her home and introduce her father to her.

Show her her flower garden.

But in the meantime, the forest girl would stay her little secret — something that was hers and hers only.

* * *

One of Souko’s new favorite things was when she was able to surprise the girl.

She always thought a lot about the types of games she could propose to her — even asked her uncle and dad to give her some new ideas. And every day, it felt like the girl was surprised to still find her here in the forest with a new challenge. Almost like she expected her to suddenly stop coming any time now.

How silly, Souko thought. There’s no way I’ll ever stop coming to see you, even if I wanted to.

But even so, she’d never seen the girl as shocked as when she decided to show up one day with lunch boxes in her hands.

“What’s this?” She asked in a bewildered tone, her pale green eyes pinned on Souko like a cat’s.

“Lunch.”

“I can see that,” the girl snapped back sharply, but by now Souko was used to her curtness. She could be a little mean sometimes in her way of speaking, but Souko had come to learn it wasn’t necessarily because she was annoyed. “I was asking why you brought this here— and why you brought two of these.”

Souko flushed a little, but still didn’t let go of the girl’s eyes.

“Well, I… I was just thinking, that you often seems hungry when we meet, and also, how you’re very thin, and so— I just thought that maybe you should just eat a little more. There’s meat in there, and…”

The girl narrowed her eyes at her. “Who do you think you are? My mom?”

Souko blushed even further, and looked away. That did seems a little silly and pretentious to bring that girl a lunch out of the blue, when she put it into words like that. But she couldn’t help it, and— truthfully, Souko had started to get quite worried about her.

It was often that the girl’s belly would suddenly start gurgling in the middle of one their matches, and Souko had noticed how she seemed much lighter than a girl her age should be (absolutely not because Souko was staring her at a little too much, of course; that had nothing to do with this). She’d once asked her if she was eating enough — and then the girl had snorted, rolling her eyes. But she hadn’t replied. So Souko thought, that she could…

But maybe it had been rude of her to do. Just as she was about to apologize though, the girl suddenly grabbed her lunch box and chopsticks, and Souko barely had the time to turns her head towards her that she saw her open the box and starts digging in.

“What?” The girl shot back, catching her staring. “You did say it was for me, right?”

Souko smiled, and nodded enthusiastically. “Y-Yes, of course!”

And so she quietly watched her eat away the whole meal with a smile she couldn’t quite manage to hide. She didn’t even left a single crumb — which on the one hand, Souko was happy about, but on the other it definitely had her more concerned, because that seemed to confirm the fact she truly didn’t get enough to eat at her house.

Souko could never brings herself to ask, but she has the distinct feeling that things were… not great at home, for the girl.

To start with, it was strange for a teenager to hang out in a forest so far away like this. The girl always seemed to be all alone, too; and she was spending so much time here… it didn’t seem like she had any other friends. Much like Souko. But much more worrisome was the fact that she was often hurt. Souko frequently caught glimpse of scratches, bandages, and bruises covering her body. Some of them might be because of her playing around in the woods — and Souko had absolutely seen her doing a lot of reckless things that would get her injured — but…

Others must have been made by someone, Souko was pretty sure.

She tried to ask her a couple of times about her family, but the girl always brushed her asides and changed the topic when she did. Even Souko talked to her sometimes about her father and her uncle and her family, but the girl would never say anything back about herself. She clearly didn’t want to talk about her life at home. So Souko respected that — even if she didn’t like it.

She didn’t want to jump to conclusion about things she couldn’t possibly know either, but… she still worried.

“H-How was it?” Souko decided to ask, trying to stop thinking about such morose things.

“Hm? Oh, good. It was really good.”

Souko beamed. “Really?”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“Hehe, that’s true. Thank you! I’m so glad you like it.”

The girl actually stared at her and lifted an eyebrow at her words. “‘Thank you”?”

“Ah… I’m the one who made that.”

She had woken up earlier this morning specifically to prepare it, following her mother’s old recipe. Dad had been so surprised to see her in the kitchen — it had been the first time she cooked anything since she got sick. Until now, he’d been the one taking care of most of the cooking — or sometimes it was her aunt, when she was home.

Souko had forgotten how much fun cooking actually was.

She used to do it quite frequently back then, but then stopped after she got sick, just like most of her hobbies — and even now that she was recovering, she hadn't gone back to them. Even though now she could easily try them again without endangering her health. Gardening was the same, too. She wondered if she’d have as much fun gardening, if she did it again now.

It’d be nice if I could do those things with her, too, she had thought this morning while cutting off vegetables. The only things she did with the girl was playing games and talking, but she was sure they’d have fun doing other type of activities together as well. I wonder if she loves cooking and gardening…

The idea made her so happy that she had decided to creates the prettiest lunch box for the girl — as colorful as her old flower garden used to be — putting shades of red and green and pink all over, carving orange carrots in little flowers, putting the yellow egg yolk in the form of a sunflower.

Each color so vivid and lovely, each of them suiting the forest girl.

The memories of this morning made Souko smile, and she was only brought back to the present moment thanks to a strong wind blowing through her short dark hair. She turned her head towards the girl, about to apologize for her absentmindedness, but then stopped.

To her surprise, the girl actually seemed really taken aback, eyes wide and mouth agape. Was she truly that shocked by the fact Souko could cook?

(Or was it because she’d cooked for her, specifically?)

“O-Oh,” the girl stuttered — and for a bewildering, fascinating moment, Souko saw her cheeks reddens slightly.

Is she… blushing?

The moment disappeared as quickly as it appeared, and Souko almost thought she’d made it up, a conjured illusion of her mind. But the scarlet on her otherwise white cheeks, and her embarrassed expression, was engraved inside Souko's heart, and she couldn’t help the wide grin that then spreads on her lips.

Of course, scarlet was just as pretty as any other colors on the girl’s face.

She looked just like a flower herself, in all her silver and green and white and red.

Souko wished she was brave enough to kiss her just then.

Instead, she quietly promised to do everything in her power to see that expression on her face once again.

* * *

She couldn’t even remember how she managed to get home, that evening.

Her head wouldn’t stop pounding, so much that she was unable to think. Her body was so heavy that every step felt like torture. Her heart seemed like a dead weight inside her chest; a burden pulling her down and down.

She felt just like that day she’d collapsed for the first time, two years ago; the day that marked the start of the end of her normal life. The only lucid thing she could register was her voice, echoing inside her skull again and again and again.

“Reiko. My name is Reiko Natsume.”

“Go away.”

“You look pale. It’s starting to rain, so you should go home.”

“You should go home.”

Souko knew she should never have gone home the moment she turned around. She knew she should have stayed; that she should have kept talking to her — her forest girl, her ghost of an acquaintance; the lovely, strange, colorful person she fell in love with.

But her voice had been so cold, when she told her to go away.

Her eyes were blank and sharp at the same time, so different from the way she usually looked at her, and Souko couldn’t stand to see that.

And she just hadn’t… she had never even expected that she could be…

It made sense, if she really thought about it; what other teenage girl would spend all her time alone in the forest, but the rumored weird delinquent from the neighboring town?

But Souko had never thought of her like that until now; both seemed so unrelated in her mind, and she felt so shocked she hadn’t been able to properly process it.

And now her duel partner had already vanished, like a mirage of the woods, like she’d never existed at all.

Souko had taken her name, and then nothing of the girl was left.

Now she was all alone in the rain, and the blue of the sky had faded away, replaced with nothing but a foggy, looming gray.

Souko’s steps vacillated, and her head still hammering, she fell on the ground.

She’d finally won, after training for so long — she finally knew her name — and yet she still wasn’t… still couldn’t be her friend.

She needed to go back, she needed to apologize, she needed to talk to her—

But the sound of the rain and the coldness of Reiko Natsume’s voice were the only thing she could hear before her consciousness slipped away.

* * *

The following days were spent in a blur.

Souko barely even registered her father’s voice or her uncle’s hands or the doctor’s visits. She felt like she was in another dimension, far away from this house, this town, this country.

She felt like she was still stuck in that forest, alone with Reiko, the rest of the world non-existent.

In her dreams, Reiko was here, by her side; pretty in all colors of the rainbow, and she smiled, and laughed, and talked. They played games together, they cooked, they gardened.

In her dreams, Souko apologized. She told her she hadn’t meant to leave, she told her she didn’t care about the rumors about her. She told her that to Souko, she wasn’t a violent scary girl, but a fun, and beautiful, and kind person.

She told her she loved her.

In her dreams, Souko was brave enough to finally kiss her.

But then she opened her eyes, and she was all alone in her bed, and there was only the blue of the sky from her bedroom’s window.

One night, she had a different dream, though.

She felt like she heard someone crying, and then Reiko was there, blue petals falling over her hair and uniform.

As she woke up, Souko couldn’t remember what the dream had been about.

* * *

It took her three whole days before she was able to stand again.

Dad and Uncle were relieved, but Souko couldn’t share any of their enthusiasm. She still felt sick, but insisted nevertheless to go back to school. She couldn’t really bring herself to talk to anyone there though, even as her classmates fussed about her health; her mind focused on only one single person — and as soon as the day ended, she ran towards the forest, towards their usual rendez-vous spot.

(She knew she shouldn’t run, she was still coughing, she still felt so weak — but she couldn’t help it.

She had to see Reiko again, as quickly as possible.)

“Reiko?” She exclaimed upon arriving, but there was no one else.

There's no one yet, Souko reminded herself, trying to stay positive. I’m still early. She could come later.

“Reiko!”

She repeated her name for a while — and couldn’t help but think that if only the circumstances were different, she would feel so proud over it.

To have finally been able to learn her name, to be able to call it out like that.

But that didn’t matter much if no one was there to respond to it. To call Souko back.

I don’t even know how it’s written, she thought.

She tried to think of all the combinations of characters to write ‘Reiko’ that could fit her the most, but just like with colors, she couldn’t decide upon a single one. All of them could suit her.

She would have to ask her about it, next time she saw her.

At least she felt pretty certain on how to spell ‘Natsume.’

All-seeing eyes of the summer, the season of ghosts and spirits.

Souko sat at their usual place.

She waited.

She kept staring left and right, attentive to every sound; trying to catch the slightest glimpse of a silver thread.

But by the time dusk came, there was still no one.

She was still all alone.

* * *

Souko stopped talking to her classmates.

A few days after her last encounter with Reiko, she’d asked the girl from her class who’d first told her about the violent high schooler from next town if she knew anything else — but she’d ended up getting into an argument with her. Her classmates had always been very nice up until now, but as soon as she started asking about Reiko Natsume, they completely changed tune and started spewing all those terrible things about her — that she was a violent delinquent, that she was crazy, that she hurt people.

Souko couldn’t help but defend her. Her classmates had never even met Reiko — what did they know about her? But everyone refused to listen to her. They almost all had a specific creepy or terrible anecdote about Reiko Natsume; she hit my cousin, she talked to trees, she burned down a shop — I tell you, that Natsume girl is bad news! C’mon, Morinaga, why do you even want to associate with someone like that? — and so Souko stopped talking to them.

She didn’t mind. She had no intention to keep hanging around such judgmental people who spoke badly of someone purely because of some rumors they’d heard.

She herself felt so ashamed, to have simply believed those hearsay and repeated them thoughtlessly. She had believed she was doing the right thing by warning Reiko about a potentially dangerous person, because she cared about her and didn’t want anything to happen to her — but she couldn’t even imagine how Reiko must have felt hearing this. How badly Souko must have hurt her. And then, when she’d learned her name, Souko had just run away…

She wouldn’t be surprised if Reiko never wanted to see her again.

But even so, she couldn’t just leave things like that. She had to apologize, at least — she had to tell her that she… she didn’t think any of that, about her.

So she tried to ask around about Reiko, tried to find out if anyone knew where she could live, what school she went to — but whenever she did, she only received vague, uncertain answers. Reiko Natsume was a weird orphan who kept being passed around among families like an unwanted stray, so it was hard to keep track of where she was.

Nobody wanted her, and nobody tried to know anything about her.

She's just a poor crazy girl, was the kindest thing one could hear on her behalf.

The more Souko learned about Reiko Natsume, the less it made sense.

This weird, insane, violent girl was nothing at all like the girl she’d gotten to know. Her Reiko could be a little cold, and a little too blunt, but she was nice, and fun, and amazing. It was like two entirely different people sharing the same name. Souko couldn’t even begin to comprehend how anyone would say such awful things about her.

In the end, she wasn’t able to find anything more about her, and so she had no other choice but to go back to the forest, and wait. Which she did, day after day, even against her family’s protests, even when it rained, even when her health kept deteriorating.

She continued waiting alone.

But sometimes, just sometimes, she felt like she could feel another presence.

Like a ghost sitting by her side, waiting with her, sharing in her lost love and her sadness.

Souko thought back to the legends she’d heard about the forest from her classmates; the strange things Reiko would do sometimes — the stares behind her shoulder, dragging her away forcefully just because a branch had snapped, the way she’d gotten startled during their last match, as if she had been distracted by something…

Maybe Souko wasn’t so alone, after all.

Maybe there truly was someone else by her side, someone she couldn’t see.

Maybe if Reiko had seemed so radiant and vibrant, that was because she actually was able to see another world: a world full of new colors, invisible to others.

Souko found comfort at the idea; that she truly had a companion to share her feelings — her pain — with, even if only a little.

* * *

It was during a day with a completely clear blue sky when she had that dream again.

Souko had stopped being able to go to school a while ago, and thus at the same time she stopped being able to go to the forest as well — the first one she didn’t care about anymore, but the second was more troubling.

She didn’t really think Reiko would come back by now — but she still kept coming there, just in case, like a last prayer.

She wondered if her companion she couldn’t see would feel lonely now that she wouldn’t be there anymore. She wondered if they would miss her.

Where could Reiko be now? Was she still sleeping in a forest, talking to creatures only she could sees?

Was she still all alone?

Souko wished wherever she was, it was far, far away from all those people who spoke and treated her so badly. She wished she was able to find a friend, someone who would love her for the person she truly was and would stand by her side no matter what — even if that person couldn’t be Souko.

Her father was in the living room now, sleeping. He had spent the whole night crying, no matter how much Souko had tried to comfort him.

She wished she could find the right words for him — tell him that she was fine, that her life had still been full of wonders and happiness despite all the suffering, that he’d been a wonderful father — but they both knew there was nothing she could do that would soothe his pain. She wished she could apologize to him, for leaving him all alone just like Mom did, but she didn’t even have the energy to do so anymore. The rest of the family — her uncle and aunt and grandmother — should arrive tonight, and Souko hoped they’ll be able to do a better job than her at comforting him.

She looked up from her bed, at the window in front of her.

The large sky spread wide before her, and it was so deep and blue, and Souko wondered if this was how it looked the day she was born — the day her parents decided to name her after the saddest of all colors.

Although Souko had stopped finding blue as sad as she used to. Now when she thought of blue, she thought of the way Reiko used to say her name so gently, of the blue candy in her palm, of the blue flowers she saw in a dream that she couldn’t remember.

The blue of Souko.

From here, she could also see the barren garden — in the end, she hadn’t been able to plant anything there. She closed her eyes, slowly, and tried to picture the colorful flowers she would’ve liked to put there, the ones she wished she could’ve shown to Reiko.

As her mind drifted away, she heard someone crying.

A gentle voice, from a gentle presence.

Souko smiled, because she knew that presence; it was the same person — the same creature — that had kept her company all this time, while she was waiting for a girl she loved that would never come.

Like with her father, she wished she could comfort them, but nothing came to her mind.

However, as she kept straying farther and farther away from reality, a sight suddenly opened up to her eyes.

She’s in a meadow.

A flower field with blue, blue, blue petals everywhere — fluttering, dancing, as far as the eye can see.

And here, in the middle of the blue flowers, all alone, is her forest girl.

Tears wells up in Souko’s eyes, but she smiles, big and wide — and do the one thing she wishes she could’ve done months ago: she calls out her name.

“Reiko.”

The girl she loves turns around, and as her green eyes melt upon recognition, she has the most beautiful and genuine smile Souko has ever seen.

All the colors of the sky, of the forest and of the meadow gets reflected in her long silver hair, and blue has never looked so joyful.

* * *

Note: The first time I read those chapters, I didn’t even realize that Soranome implied Souko died at the end until someone pointed it out, and I can’t stop thinking about how terribly sad it is. I suppose one could argue maybe Souko just moved at the end and that’s why she stopped coming, but it doesn’t seem likely with the way Soranome phrased it. At least with Reiko, there’s a chance she was loved and happy for a while with the grandfather and then with her daughter afterwards, even if she still ended up losing them at the end. But Souko never got that chance. I only take comfort with the idea she had a loving family who took care of her. (And yes, if anyone’s wondering, I decided she was raised by a single father as a parallel to Tanuma.) But it’s also terrible there seems to be some implications that if Reiko had stayed then Souko wouldn’t have died, given it seemed to be the youkai of the forest that amplified her illness (much like how Tanuma has gotten healthier since meeting Natsume).

I went back and forth about the idea of Souko cutting ties with her classmates in the aftermath of her losing Reiko, because that also felt a little mean to her, but I honestly think she wouldn’t have tolerated anyone speaking badly of Reiko and would feel guilty for listening to the rumors.

I want to try writing something else less sad about them, but truthfully I really love the tragedy of their story haha. Still, maybe I’ll give them a silly little happy ending one day.