#dude if I could go back in time I would be BEGGING my past self to make a better decision

[the-void-has-questions]

Transferring colleges is So Dumb who made this difficult on PURPOSE

[andivmg]

speak up andi, I beg of you, you have been mistreated the most here, I know it took shubble a lot of courage but she has helped so many people

i want to start this off by saying it is not a competition and i do not want to compare my experience to anybody else’s. shubble is so fucking strong and i admire her and everyone else who has spoken up about experiencing abuse endlessly.

DISCLAIMER 1

this is way longer than i intended it to be. i did not plan to go into as much depth as i did but the words just kinda kept coming and i kept thinking that if someone else is in a similar situation to the one i was in, it would be good to point out even some of the smaller details so that they can see that these behaviors are not something to be overlooked and could be a symptom of a bigger issue… idk. i apologize for how lengthy and wordy this is but i hope it all makes sense somehow

DISCLAIMER 2

a lot of you know who one of my exes is and i am asking you to please not make this about him. i am simply sharing my experience with some of my past relationships in hopes that they help someone else. i beg of you, do not go on twitter making threads speculating on whatever because it’s just going to cause me a bunch of problems and i don’t want this to be brought to his attention. if you share my story, please do not do it with the intent of starting drama. if you share my story, focus on the behaviors i am talking about instead of trying to figure out if it’s about him.

DISCLAIMER 3

this goes without saying but i’ll put it here anyway: i will be talking about toxic relationships, mention of self harm, mention of sex, implied violence. if any of these topics are triggering to you please scroll away, protect yourself.

I have been in a lot of relationships, but there are 4 that i would truly identify as the ones who had the biggest impact on me. Two of those i would consider emotional mistreatment. I don’t want to say i was abused for reasons that i will be discussing with my therapist this week, but i can certainly say i was mistreated. For the sake of privacy, i will be referring to these two dudes as 1 and 6.

I think the biggest difference between 1 and 6 is that 6 was obsessed with me to the point where i felt like i was being suffocated, whereas i’m not sure if 1 ever cared about me in the first place.

6 and i started out pretty normally. we had a bunch of friends in common and we were around the same people. so eventually, we became friends too. we would text and call all the time until feelings developed into a relationship. in the beginning he was really sweet and caring, saying all the right things that got me falling head over heels. now, something important to note is that i am someone who has always had a lot of guy friends. when i was little and in school, my mom made friends with a bunch of other moms and those moms were boy moms, so i grew up surrounded by boys. i bring this up because 6 didn’t like my guy friends. actually, i think he just didn’t like the fact that i had guy friends at all. so, whenever i would hang out with my friends, it was a problem. so this resulted in me never being able to go out or hang out with my friends unless he was there. then it got worse. before we started dating he had decided to cut back on drinking and to stop smoking. so because of this, i decided that i wouldn’t drink or smoke around him in solidarity. this was not enough for him. i had to stop drinking and smoking altogether. so once, when i was hanging out with my girl friends we decided to stay in and get wine drunk. we posted about it on our private stories on snap and once he saw, 6 called me arguing and yelling at me because i was drinking and posting about it on my story for “attention”. after this incident, i was no longer allowed to hang out with my friends because they were a “bad influence”. he also didn’t like the clothes i wore. sorry, let me reiterate: he didn’t like my clothes when he wasn’t around. it was perfectly fine for me to wear a short dress… if i was with him. i was not allowed to wear “revealing” clothing if he wasn’t around. mind you, none of the clothes i wore were revealing, it’s not my fault i’m hot yk? he took over my life. who i talked to, what i did, what i wore, where i would go, it was all up to him. my life no longer belonged to me. and at the time, i was okay with that. i didn’t realize that he had so much control over everything. i was young and naïve and he convinced me that he knew what was best for me. that he had lived more than i had and experienced more than i had and that he knew better. he was so good at making everything my fault and making him the hero or victim depending on the situation. i got catcalled on the street? “because you were wearing that fucking dress again, andrea you know how that looks. of course you got catcalled. this is why you can’t wear things like that when i’m not around to protect you”. I decided to have a fun night in with my friends and get drunk? “i just don’t understand why you would be posting yourself on your private story like that. you’re drunk and vulnerable. why do you want other people, other guys, to see you like that? and you know i’ve cut back on drinking so how do you think it makes me feel to see that? don’t you love me enough to do this for me?” the worst part is i believed him. because, in the beginning, he helped me so much and i looked up to him so much, surely he had my best interests at heart, right? this relationship went on for way longer than it should have. you may be asking yourself, how did you leave? if you were so in love with him and entranced by him to the point where he consumed you, why did you leave? he raised his hand. that’s what got me to finally leave. a year after we broke up, i found out that he was drinking, smoking, and doing all kinds of shit he told me he wasn’t throughout our entire relationship. he was awful, and i’m really proud of myself for being strong enough to leave when i did. i’m also really grateful for my friends, who stuck out that whole train wreck with me. who i lashed out against in order to protect him and defend him. they stuck by me through it all and i don’t know where i would be without them so shoutout to them lmfao.

1 was a bit more complicated. it started out in a similar way. we had the same friends, hung out around the same people, so it was only a matter of time until we became friends too. we would call and text every day until feelings were developed. at least i developed feelings, i’m still not sure he did. i told him this and i don’t remember how the conversation went but basically we had decided that we were talking as more than friends now. enough time went by where i was ready for it to become a relationship and i communicated that to him. looking back, i think he felt pressured into the relationship by me and by our friends. anyway we started dating and everything was fine. we would hang out and talk all the time but i felt like he was bored or disinterested by me, so i would constantly beg for his attention. i became this needy clingy version of myself that i hated. it felt like when we would hang out, he was always distracted by something else. i basically felt invisible to him. that is, when i wasn’t hanging out with my guy friends. similarly to 6, 1 did not like my guy friends or the fact that i had guy friends in the first place. i had a guy best friend at the time who is one of the most amazing people i have ever met. let’s call him S. S and 1 were acquainted with each other, hung out in the same circles etc. but 1 still didn’t like him. sometimes, whenever 1 was busy doing whatever he did when he wasn’t with me, i would hang out with S, we would watch shows together and just talk. Some days, it felt like i talked to S more than my own boyfriend. this did not sit well with 1. he would ask “why the fuck are you always hanging out with him?” to which i would reply “maybe if you hung out with me more, i wouldn’t have so much free time to spend with him” (toxic ik but what can i say? i was feeling neglected). so you can see what problems this caused. eventually i cut S off. I stopped talking to him completely and i haven’t spoken to him since. Back to 1. even after cutting off my best friend, nothing really changed. He didn’t spend much time with me and whenever we would, i felt like he couldn’t wait to go off and do something else. this got exhausting. at that point i was begging him to love me, to pay attention to me, to care about me. this led to us breaking up. he broke up with me over text. it read, and i quote, “i think we aren’t meant for each other. i think you deserve someone that will treat you better than i do. I don’t think i’m in love with you and i tried to force myself to love you because i thought that’s what i wanted but i really don’t think it is. we started this relationship when i was just tired of being alone and i really just don’t think it is right anymore. i don’t think i am attracted to you. I am sorry, i really didn’t know how to end this and this probably isn’t the best way to do it but it’s time”. The relationship went on for another six months after this. granted, i should have had more self respect and never gotten back together with him but it is what it is. so after he told me that he didn’t love me and that he wasn’t attracted to me, we stayed “friends”. which basically meant that we did everything that a relationship involved. without actually being in a relationship. that is, until one of his friends hit me up. there was some flirtation going on but nothing serious. i was still in love with 1 but, at the time, i was in desperate need for attention and his buddy was there to provide it. when i told 1 about it he flipped out, called me all kinds of crazy and decided he was done with me. his friend and i talked about it and poked fun at the fact that he broke up with me but got mad at someone else paying attention to me. when 1 saw this (he ended up forcing me to show him the screenshots of the conversation) he was even more pissed and even more done with me. the next day he called me and we were basically back together again.

however, this time, i was meant to earn his affection. because i did something so unforgivable and atrocious, he was basically in the clear to treat me like shit. and he did. he would cancel plans to go hang out with his friends. he would only come over late at night, even when i had class the next day. i was basically at his mercy. we only hung out when he decided. we only spoke when he wanted to. i honestly can’t even recall us going on any date after that incident, save for one dinner. in short, i was not a priority to him. this, combined with some other stuff, really took at toll on my mental health. i entered a deep depression and began self-harming after being clean for 3 years. i sought out help and found a wonderful therapist who really helped me. but, 1 only saw this as one more problem. when we hung out he would complain that i was too sad. important note: because of that text he sent me i was incredibly insecure. so, little arguments would always end up escalating because i felt like he literally did not care about me and he would just keep making me feel like shit about being depressed. whenever we argued (which was very often) it would end in me locking myself in the bathroom, sobbing, nearly throwing up, while he was on his phone. i remember one specific argument started because he asked me if i would leave him for harry styles and i jokingly said yes (i am not and have never been attracted to harry styles). that argument escalated to the point where we almost broke up and he said to me “you should warn people before they fall in love with you that you are so mentally ill. because you’re always going to bring down the mental state of who you’re with”. he used my mental health against me like that a lot. whenever i would bring up something i wanted him to do or something that i didn’t like, he would call me needy, clingy, and say that he was trying his best but that i needed too much, that i was too much. all i wanted was reassurance. looking back, that’s all i ever asked for. whenever i would ask him if he loved me he would say “well i’m with you aren’t i?”. this is the same man who decided to go to vegas with his friends on my birthday after he promised he wouldn’t. this is the same man who said that he didn’t love me. the same one who said he wasn’t attracted to me. the same man who i would catch looking at other girl’s (some being his “friends”) provocative pictures on twitter. (this is definitely tmi so i’m just going to put a bunch of asterisks at the end of the tmi so you can skip there if you don’t want to read it) but there was a long period of time in our relationship where we had zero intimacy, and it wasn’t because of me. this fucked with my head a lot because i had this idea that because i was so emotional and needy that i could compensate physically. but when that stopped, my thoughts looked something like “the only thing i was useful for was sex and now he doesn’t even want that from me”.************whenever i remember this, a part of me thinks he might’ve been cheating on me during that time, but i have no proof so i guess we’ll never know. also during that time period, we were arguing over the same things over and over “it feels like you don’t love me” “but i’m hanging out with you” “that’s not the same as loving me” “you’re so fucking needy. and then you wonder why i don’t like coming over”. it was exhausting. we had the same friend group. and even our friends got so sick of us that they would tell me to break up with him. this went on for months until one day, on our one year anniversary, he told me that his plans for the day included playing video games. nothing else. that’s when i broke up with him. that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. i just couldn’t do it anymore.

we stayed friends afterwards in order to keep the peace within the friend group. after about a month, he told me he was going to do better. he said he was going to start going to the gym, and maybe even going to therapy, that he was going to eat better and live a better lifestyle for me. he said he was going to plan dates for us and treat me the way i deserved etc. very much vibes from that one euphoria scene. but i was done. maybe i didn’t communicate that well enough to him and that’s my fault. but i was really confused at the time and i didn’t know what i wanted. eventually we had a conversation and that’s when i told him that i was no longer interested in a relationship. i think i just didn’t believe him anymore. i didn’t believe that he would change for me or anyone else for that matter. through the entire relationship he was mean to me, he neglected me, belittled me, and overall made me feel like shit at worst and invisible at best. even when i would offer to plan things or suggest activities for us to do together, he would be disinterested the entire time or just cancel and make plans with his friends instead. and of course it was all my fault for one, flirting with his friend that one time, and two, just not being interesting enough. he made it feel like i wasn’t good enough, and at the same time victimized himself. he would tell me “nothing i do is ever good enough for you” while i was the one putting in all the effort in the relationship. then he would go “well why would i put in effort with you? remember when you were flirting with [redacted]? I still think about that and it fucks me up”. mind you, he would only bring this up whenever i brought up any concerns or issues. anyway, as you can tell it took me a really long time to realize that this relationship was toxic and unhealthy and i’m really proud of myself, again, for having the strength to leave and never look back. i think one of the reasons why it took me so long to realize that i was being mistreated was because everyone around him loved him. and to me it was hard to see how someone that was so well liked could be bad. so i felt like i was the problem. i felt like there was something wrong with me and if i just fixed that, then he would treat me better and love me and care about me. it took a lot of therapy to realize that he just wasn’t that into me. i was like a toy to him that he could just pay attention to when he was bored but ignore me the rest of the time. but then, when someone else showed interest in me he would suddenly care and be like “no she’s mine, you can’t have her”. he didn’t want me but he didn’t want anyone else to have me and that was the bottom line. that was the base off all the problems and toxicity that happened while we were together.

in conclusion, both of these men were awful in their own unique ways. i hope that by sharing this, someone who is in a similar situation will see it and identify these behaviors as something to watch out for. i hope that someone will see it and realize that they are not alone, and that they are not the first person to go through it, and that it gets better. these events all happened over two years ago and now i am in a beautiful and healthy relationship, i’m studying something that i am passionate about, and i am surrounded by people who love, care about, and support me. i am in a much happier place now and you will find that too, whoever you might be <3

[py-dreamer]

Macaque is big spoon

Lol the old men be snoozin and snugglin

(I was about to say sleeping but my mind is too dirty for that unfortunately-)

Y'wanna know why he big spoon?

The sun and moon thingy they have going on and...

Ehh, ehh? Y'see what I did there?

I hate fabric so god damn much.

WHY CAN'T YOU BEHAVE AND STAY STILL GODDAMN.

WHY MUST YOU CREASE AND HAVE LAYERS?!!? WHY CAN'T YOU BE SIMPLE AND FLAT

SAME WITH MACACA'S FUR.

WHY ARE YOU BLACK?!! HOW DO I RENDER YOU

TO QUOTE MY PAST SELF: "his true evil power is how hard he can be to draw"

LIKE MY DUDE. HOWWWWW.

Regardless, I'm still really happy with how the drawing came out like the lighting and stuff (just don't look at the fabric-)

Wukong couldn't give less than a flying f*ck if his pajamas matched. Like he's at home, let him be as much of a fashion disaster as he wants!

Heck, back in his day, he was prancing with a leaf skirt and that was acceptable, let the monkey be damnit.

But he would own something very funky like those peach shorts but specifically wear them on break days or in private

(Mac definitely made an inappropriate joke bout it; he has a mark you could read the king's fortune off of, on his right cheek-)

Mac loves his clouds cloudy king so sure, slap them on his pants I think he'd have those long fluffy or silky pajama pants and he like has a couple he switches out for every now and them.

Wukong struck me as a big shirt, short shorts guy

and Mac'doodles as a small shirt, big pants

On a more angsty note, after death I think he'd be a lot colder like its harder to generate body heat naturally so he'd be a lot more cuddly with his toasted marshmallow king cause he was literally toasty fried for 49 days in heaven (49 earth years if 1 year in heaven is a year belief is true)

I was really debating if they'd be in a tree like normal monkeys or in the stone palace cause like that's a whole thing.

Wukong is not only a king in name, he's got riches and a whole ass stone mansion, I want my boi to one day overcome his guilt and indesire for self care and move into the big boi house with his husbando...one day.

But until then, a girl can dream.

Cause come on, that'd be cool. I understand it'd feel real lonely without the stalwart generals and brotherhood but like he has new company and rekindling with his warrior might help with that.

I also think they'd rather sleep in a cozy lil alclove or like the beds in historical c-dramas that are kinda built in and they build a mini nest of sorts.

I was going to draw the monkeys but tbh, just wasn't feelin it...

Also wanted their tails to make a heart but the lil pointy bit always bugs me so I tried to make it into a more plausible scenario

And irl updates, I have been like formally rehearsing for a performance all week (as in a play) and practicing all day, just watched the 1st cast do it and its my turn tomorrow so wish me luck!

(btw I'm working with young kids, like 8-12 young and they all congregated around me when they saw me drawing like I was a glorified babysitter

And the amount of times I had to put the message on Mac's shirt on a different layer and hide it like bruh. The kids are lovely and all and I'd be happy to show my work but as you can see...not all of my works are...100% PG)

(pls reblog and feedback and stuff, I worked hard on this plss I beg...)

[moni-logues]

Home Run

Pairing: Bangchan x reader (afab, she/her)

Genre: smut, basically pwp but there's a semblance of plot if you read the other pieces, friends-to-lovers

Word count: 2.2k

Content: protected sex, Chan pov

Summary: Different Spaces couple finally score a home run

A/N: when I wrote Different Spaces (over a YEAR ago? 💀💀) I fully intended for them to fuck, but apparently, no, they needed three whole drabbles to themselves. anyway, enjoy! Thanks to @amethystwrytes for beta-ing for me!

Different Spaces (1); Scoreboard (2)

* * *

“Please,” you gasped, voice still high and tight, breath caught in snatches. “Please, can we fuck now?”  

And the starting pistol was fired. You moved off the sofa and Chan moved with you, stumbling towards your bedroom, though he didn’t know why. Didn’t know why the sofa wouldn’t suffice, why it was somehow sullied now. Didn’t care. As long as this happened, kept happening, as long as he got to see you and hear you and touch you some more; his desire yawned open in his chest, awake and hungry. Let out of its cage. 

These past months, away from you, Chan had thought was for the best. His confusion and these feelings that he didn’t believe, didn’t understand, he didn’t want to face you with them. Didn’t want to face them at all. Because it wasn’t what you were. You were friends. That was all and he didn’t want to ruin it. Thought that he was sure to, somehow.  

But now it was a tangle of limbs and sticky skin against sticky skin. All sweat and salt and a kind of feverish urgency he hadn’t expected, hadn’t even dreamt of. He had kept his feelings on lock-down, thought they might go away if he didn’t prod at them, didn’t acknowledge them, but he couldn’t ignore them now: now with your mouth on him like that, with your hands roaming his body, as he swallowed your moan down his throat.  

This pent-up desire was free and he was dizzy with it. Tripping over his feet and tumbling to the mattress on top of you; making up for his clumsiness with kisses on every inch of skin his lips could reach. 

And you, asking, begging, again, one more time, still, even when his lips crushed yours and cut off your words; the second you broke free, you were saying it again. Fuck me. And he was going to, was about to, was pushing himself to his knees and then it hit him. 

“Oh shit,” he breathed, sitting back on his heels with a sigh, hands braced on his knees to try to catch his breath. 

“What?” you asked, similarly panting. “What?” 

“Condom?” 

“Fuck!” 

He watched you twist, your legs trapped between his, to scramble at your bedside unit. He watched your hand search and come up empty, drag open the second drawer and repeat its motions.  

“Do you have one?” you asked, head turned away, struggling to get to the bottom drawer without moving off the bed completely. 

“Why would I have one?” Chan asked back in a squawk though he wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt self-conscious, defensive even.  

“I don’t know; don’t guys carry them in their wallets or something?” 

“You’re my friend; wouldn’t it be weird if I came here with a condom?” 

You turned to look at him, then. Sat up, naked, still squared in with his knees either side of you. You looked at him. Blinked. 

“I don't know, dude, you tell me what the fuck we’re doing here, then.” 

And it came out harsh. Chan blanched. Because what were you doing? Were you really asking? Had this ruined it? Because he felt guilty that he didn’t have a condom in his wallet. Like he usually did. Always did, though he couldn’t really have said why. It was the same fucking condom he had in his old wallet that he transferred over to the new one. The same one that he looked at before coming here tonight. That he wouldn’t have thought twice about before—wouldn't have even remembered it were there. But it was you and something was different and something told him that he shouldn’t go to your place with a condom in his wallet as if he expected something. As if something could ever happen between you. It was presumptuous. It was arrogant. It was foolhardy. 

But nothing about the night had gone the way he had expected it to and now... That fucking condom. If only he had it.  

“Sorry, you’re rig-”  

Apologising on reflex, his chin dipping to his chest, because he’d only gone and fucked it up by overthink- 

Then your hand was on his face and your lips on his, your fingers sneaking into your hair.  

“It’s fine,” you murmured. “It’s fine.” 

And he didn’t know if it was, but you kept kissing him all the same, so he kept kissing you back. Was it fine if this was as far as it went tonight? His cock said one thing and his head said another. Maybe it was better this way, he thought. Maybe rushing headlong into sex would be a bad idea. Mayb- 

You pulled away. 

“I’ve got some,” you whispered, your urgency returning as you scrambled off the bed. “One sec.” 

Oh, thank god. He watched you walk away, the fingers of one hand encircling his hot, heavy shaft, unconsciously, automatically, unable to stop himself. Unable to stop his heart racing as he looked down and remembered your own fingers around him. The softness of your skin. The jolt of arousal when you had teased him, like you usually did but also nothing like that. 

You returned before he had time to think more and extracted one shiny packet from a box which you then let fall to the floor. There was something about you that was shy: lips a little pursed, eyes looking away. He knew you well enough to tell that much.  

“Forgot I had these,” you said quietly, still not looking at him as you knelt on the bed and made your way towards him. “Bought them earlier.” 

Chan’s shock made him laugh. 

“In anticipation of this...?” 

“No!” your denial was swift. “No, it wasn’t like that! I wasn’t planning anything! I just-” 

But he didn’t care. Was laughing because it was he all night who had been flustered by this. It was he who kept saying the wrong thing, wrongfooted all the time by the turn the night had taken. He enjoyed it being you. Enjoyed that the dynamic between the two of you didn’t have to be entirely different. You could still tease him. He could still tease you. 

“I didn’t plan this,” you said, performatively sullen, pouting. 

“But you want it, right?” 

You laughed and pushed him back towards the head of the bed, not bothering to answer with words. You made him sit, made him once again cede control of his cock to you; he let your fingers wrap around him, watched as you stroked him slowly, as your wrist twisted. His eyes fluttered closed for a second, just a second, and when he opened them again, you had the condom packet between your teeth, tearing it open with your free hand. It was boring, really—a mundane gesture—but his dick throbbed, a drop of precum leaking from the top as you spat the empty packet away from you. 

“You sure about this?” you asked, with the tip of his sheathed shaft at your entrance. 

He nodded eagerly, barely able to stop himself lifting his hips to push into you himself. Then he stopped nodding, flicked his eyes to you because why were you asking?  

“Aren’t you?” he replied, a swoop of doubt flying through his guts. 

You nodded back. 

“I’m sure.” 

A swoop of relief. 

“I’m sure.” 

And then he placed a hand on your hip and used his other to hold himself steady, so you could sink down on him, slowly, with a long moan stretching to the ceiling. And, truth be known, if he could have, he might have asked for a second, just a second, to get used to it. The feeling of you. All warm and wet and tight and your burning skin so soft, and your lips so sweet and your eyes dark and sparkling like the brightest night sky. And his heart hammering in his chest like time was running out; his blood boiling, reduced to a thick, sticky syrup that he told himself wasn’t love, not exactly, but wasn’t entirely not. Just a second to gather himself not just because you felt so good but because it was you. 

You didn’t give him a second. No sooner than you had lowered than you raised yourself up again; you set an impatient pace, urgent, running towards something at breakneck speed. Chan, too, then was running. Chan, too, was urgent in his kisses, in his praise, in the way your name caught at the back of his throat when he felt your walls squeeze around him.  

He wished he’d had longer to think about it. Because he hadn’t given himself the chance to imagine this, to get used to the idea of it, to think about how good you would feel, how sweet you would taste. He hadn’t had the opportunity to picture you in his head before you were right there in front of his very eyes. Real. More than real. A kind of hyperreal that made him able to smell the sound of you and hear your taste. He could feel every one of your gasps in his chest. He could moan out the taste of your skin. He could smell your hair and it would feel like satin.  

It would’ve been less overwhelming, he thought, if he’d given himself an imaginary dry run-through. He would be doing better if he’d had a second. If he got a second to get himself together, he’d be able to get over the shock of it. He’d be able to get a hold of his senses and- 

You slowed. Sank down on him, as deep as he could get, and took his face between your palms. Took his lips between yours then slipped your tongue between them. Rolled your hips and moaned into his mouth. It was the tiny bite of pain when your teeth sank into his bottom lip that brought him to his senses. Like the tug on his hair before, the little jolt was enough to bring him around and he pulled back, determined once more to make the most of this for you.  

“I wanna move,” he said, mumbling the words against your mouth in a final kiss before you slipped off him.  

The fact that you then knelt, waiting to be told where he wanted you, made his guts clench. He traced his fingers lightly over your face and then pushed at your shoulder, encouraging you onto your back. He slipped his hands beneath your ankles and lifted, your knees bending as your thighs reached your chest. 

“This ok?” he asked. 

You nodded, settling your ankles over his shoulders, then crossing them and using them to pull him towards you. He laughed, because it was just like you, to never let him get the last word, to never quite let him be in control. He laughed because he liked it, in this capacity even more than any other. In the seconds before he sank himself back into your hot, wet cunt, he imagined you testing him, pushing at that boundary because you could, because he’d let you, because he knew that you liked this as much as he did and if tussling for control was the game, he wanted to play. Even if he let you win. 

As he snapped his hips with his hands tight around your calves, as your walls spasmed and clenched around him, as his ears filled with the slick squelch of his cock in your heat, his head felt clearer. Still hyperreal but in a way that made sense. When he tasted the sound of his name on your tongue, it tasted right. When he smelt the brush of your soft skin against his like roses, he knew. All his anxiety about fucking it up, ruining your friendship, everything that he had been hiding from while he was gallivanting about the globe, it was pointless. It was wrong. It was useless noise in his brain. Because he’d always believed he wasn’t worth it, wasn’t worthy of you, wasn’t worthy of getting what he wanted. But there you were, beneath him, every bit what he wanted and more. Every bit his. 

*  

“You know there’s no going back now,” you said, lying on your bed, stretching your arms and legs long, still naked and glistening.  

“What do you mean?” he asked as he returned to join you, condom neatly disposed. 

You turned on your side to snuggle into him, pressed a firm kiss to his lips. 

“This,” you answered. “We’ve had sex now so you can’t turn around to me and say you actually just want to be friends.” 

He laughed. It was preposterous to him that you might think he would be the one to change his mind.  

“I don’t want to be your friend.” 

“Good.” 

Then you piped up again. 

“I never really liked you much anyway.” 

He chuckled, knew it was a joke; knew it because it was followed by a smile that was all syrup, that left a sticky sweetness on his mouth after you kissed him. 

“Fat chance I’ll believe that. Horse is out of the barn, mate; you just said it yourself: you can’t take this back.” 

“Fuck. I guess you’re stuck with me.” 

“I think I can live with that.” 

[sataniquepanique]

The Fallout

Angel Dust x Platonic!Soulmate Reader

WC: 2k+

Summary: You wake up in Hell, struggling with your choices made back on Earth. A spider-demon manages to crack through your tough exterior.

Warnings: talk of suic!de and self-harm, mention of drugs.

A/N: I've had a rough few months, and the Hellaverse has become a little light in my life. Angel (almost immediately?) became a comfort character for me, and I just wanted to write about him. This might turn into an Alastor x Reader fix because I've grown to love that weird little dude, but that's still up in the air. Reader is a crow-demon in this btw, and I tried to write them GN.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sighing softly, you carefully run fingers through the set of wings protruding from your back. In this light, the inky-black was iridescent; a feature that almost brought a smile to your face. There’s no way you’d get used to this any time soon.

It’d been a little over two weeks since you arrived in hell, a few days since you had shown up on the doorstep of the dilapidated hotel on the outskirts of Pentagram City. You had known ending up in Hell was a possibility, one that wasn’t ideal but overall a thought that hadn’t deterred you. The deed was done, and you’d now have to deal with the consequences. 

After roaming the streets for a few days, squatting in whatever abandoned building or sheltered alleyway you could find, a news segment caught your attention in the window of an electronics shop. The Hazbin Hotel: a place for sinners to be rehabilitated. The entire idea was ludicrous, but the overly-chipper blonde pitching the cause was adamant that they would provide accommodations for anyone interested, no questions asked. 

So that’s how you ended up here, standing in front of the floor length mirror in your new bedroom, completely avoiding the presence of any of the other fellow inhabitants of the hotel. 

Charlie (the even-more-cheery-in-person blonde from the TV) had tried to get you to join them in the lobby for the past few days for “exercises”, which basically included trust falls and other weird bonding techniques. You had ignored her pleas from beyond the other side of the bedroom door, pretending to be asleep. 

It’s not that you didn’t belong here, you probably did, it’s the permanence of it that was becoming debilitating; the solitude of it all. You were alone here.

You missed your family.

You missed your friends. 

The thought of their faces brought an onslaught of tears, obscuring the sight of your new demonic body in the mirror. 

You had fucked up. You definitely deserved to be here. 

After what you assumed was dinnertime, Charlie came back to your room and knocked softly.

“Hey!” She chimed gently from outside, “We’re all going to watch a movie in the lounge, figure I’d extend an invite! We’d love to have you—“

Another voice cut her off from down the hall, more stern but still with a gentle undertone. “Charlie, babe. Leave them alone, they just needs time to adjust.”

Vaggie. You had felt a weird draw to her the moment the hotel doors had opened. She had seemed to understand better than the rest about what you were feeling. She was one of the only people you had considered talking to.

Curling up on the bed, you begged sleep to consume you entirely. 

———

The darkness was alive. 

The void humming and vibrating with movement and emotions that you couldn’t grasp. Calling out, your voice wouldn’t ring true, only a choking gasp emitting from your throat. Crawling on all fours, you frantically felt through the blackness for something, anything to help. Your left hand landed in a wet puddle, fingers brought to your face for further inspection were only met with blindness. That’s when you heard it: the screaming.

Rising to your feet, you began to stumble through the abyss towards the sound of the guttural sobs, trying to scream back to whoever it was know that you were here. The voice was obscured, yet somehow familiar. A sudden obstacle had you tumbling back onto your knees. Unlike before, the darkness was beginning to fade, showing the outstretched limb that had tripped you. Following the arm upwards, you were met with your own vacant eyes, staring unseeingly toward the heavens. 

Waking with a violent sob, you choked on every gasping breath. Dim red light filtered through the window, a mocking reminder of where you had ended up. This bedroom was beginning to  suffocate you. Looking over at the clock on the bedside table, the witching hour assured you that everyone was fast asleep. 

The hallway was silent as you crept on socked feet, destination unknown. Everything that had happened over the past few weeks played on a loop in your brain. You began to run, desperate to get to somewhere that you knew no longer existed; the screaming from the earlier dream becoming deafening. The sound of an opening door sent a wave of electric panic shooting through your veins. At the far end of the hall, an out-of-use dumbwaiter sat half rusted shut, but the opening was big enough to slide through. You ran as quietly as possible, squeezing through the cracked steel door. The metal contraption was oddly secure, though the space was tight. Bringing both knees to your chest, you took a deep breath. The shakiness of the exhale triggered another sob, followed by another, until the material of your pants was soaked by tears. 

The metal door of the dumbwaiter groaned slightly, making you jump. A pair of wide mis-matched eyes gazed back; Angel. Charlie had introduced you both upon arrival, though the spider-demon had seemed too pre-occupied with his phone to actually give a shit about your presence. 

“Oh shit—“ he was halfway into the dumbwaiter, recoiling slightly upon seeing your curled form, “Sorry toots, I uh…wasn’t expected anyone to be in here.”

You wiped both cheeks with a sleeve, “It’s okay, I should—“

“What’re you doing in here anyways?” Angel’s gaze swept over your face, “Sick of the luxurious suites we’re all so graciously given?” 

You knew he was trying to make a joke, but the last thing you wanted to do was laugh, let alone with a complete stranger. 

“I couldn’t be in that room anymore…I needed some air.”

“So you settled on a rusty metal box?” Angel cocked an eyebrow. You shrugged, avoiding his stare.

He sighed, and you heard the metal door groan again. Looking up, Angel was crawling his way into the dumbwaiter, settling in across from you. 

“What’re you doing?” You pulled both knees closer to accommodate his long legs.

“Joinin’ ya.”

“I can see that, but why?”

Angel fished for something in the pocket of his blazer, “‘cause I’ve got nothin’ else better to do right now, and it looks like you could use some company. And who’s better company than yours truly?” He grinned devilishly, one gold fang glinting in the dim light. 

You watched as he continued to dig in his pocket. “Why were you looking in here?”

Angel pulled a plastic bag out of his jacket, reaching up to unlatch a small compartment at the top of the dumbwaiter. “Oh, well you seem to have stumbled upon one of my many secret hiding spots.”

“And Charlie doesn’t mind you stashing drugs around the hotel?”

“This is Hell, dollface. No one cares what you do, as long as you play the game.” There was a bitterness in his voice, one that left as soon as it emerged, covered up by a sultry wink. “Besides, no one’s been able to find any of my hiding spots yet.” 

You hummed noncommittally, falling into a companionable silence. For as cramped of a space as it was, it was he most comfortable you’d felt since arriving in the afterlife.

“So…” Angel examined his nails, “Are you going to tell me why you was cryin’ or…?”

Something about this fluffy pink demon soothed your soul, more than even Charlie Morningstar: Queen of Hospitality had been able to do. You found your expertly-built wall cracking.

“I just…I fucked up.”

“We’ve all fucked up, toots. How else d’ya think we ended up here?” 

You shot him a glare just to find Angel smirking back. 

“I mean I fucked up by leaving everyone. My friends, my family. Now they’re stuck cleaning up my mess.”

Angel cocked his head to the side, a tendril of white hair falling over an eye, “Got yourself into a li’l trouble? Been there—”

“I ended it. It all got to be too much: life, working a dead-end job, and the constant pressure to put on a composed persona, so I ended it myself.”

You felt his body go rigid against your leg.

“Oh…shit.” Angel whispered, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah…shit.” The two of you sat in silence for a few more minutes, both unsure of what to say. You shifted slightly and sighed, “I dreamt of it earlier tonight, the aftermath of it all. I saw my body, I heard—“ You swallowed audibly, “—I heard my mother’s screaming.”

Angel was watching intently as you looked up, “I miss them. More than anything.”

His leg brushed against yours as Angel scooted towards the opening into the hallway, sliding his lithe body through the gap in the door. Your heart sank a little. Of course you had scared away the one person you were just beginning to feel comfortable with in this god-forsaken place. The burn of fresh tears pricked behind your eyes, until you saw Angel peering through the opening again.

“You comin’ or what?” 

You wiped a hand over your cheek, “To where?”

“Just trust me, I’ve got somethin’ to show you,” Angel held a hand out to help you slide through into the dark hallway. 

———

The door at the end of the corridor was covered in small polaroids and pink lights. The most personality you had seen since arriving in Hell.

“Is this your room?” You felt stupid the moment it came out of your mouth.

Angel smirked as he shouldered the door open, “What gave it away?”

The interior of his bedroom was bathed in neon pink light. Clothes in various fabrics and colors were strewn about, while a bed with numerous overly-plush pillows sat pushed against one of the far corners. There was life in here. There was personality and a sense of belonging. 

A loud squeal emanated from somewhere beneath the bed, startling you out of the mental tour of Angel’s room. A soft nudge of something against your ankle had you staring back at a tiny demon-pig, it’s little beady black eyes blinking curiously up at you. 

“Oh my god…” you breathed.

Angel reached to pick up the little pig, “Sorry about him—“

You were on the floor quicker than he could move, holding out both hands to let the little creature get used to your scent. The piglet snorted softly as it trailed sniffs up your palms, the feeling making you giggle slightly. Your laughter caused him to cease the exploration and instead launch into your lap, nuzzling against your body.

“He reminds me of my dog from home,” you looked up at Angel while stroking the velvet ear of the little pig. 

“I’ve never seen Fat Nuggets take to someone so quickly before,” he smiled, walking towards the bed, “C’mere, this is what I wanted to show you.”

You rose from the floor still clutching Fat Nuggets, who was now beginning to fall back asleep. Joining Angel near the headboard, you followed his gaze to the smattering of polaroids adhered to the wall behind the bed. Dozens of photos of himself with various people, some of which you recognized from the hotel, all of them smiling or laughing. 

“I fucked up too.” Angel’s voice was low, the undertone of sadness unmistakable, “In the living world, I spent years alone in a miserable existence of my own making,” He took a glance down at you, “So I know exactly what you were feeling back on Earth…trust me.” 

You leaned closer to him, feeling a familiar tightness in your throat.

“These people,” He motioned towards the photos, “They didn’t give a shit who I was, or where I came from, or what baggage I had. They accepted me, the real me, and became more of a family than I could ever ask for.” He turned to you fully, one hand coming to rest on your shoulder, the other petting Fat Nuggets snoring body. “I know they’d do the same for you, you just gotta give them a chance.”

The tears came freely now, and against all better judgement you stepped closer to lean against Angels chest, careful not to squish the sleeping pig in your arms. Four slender arms embraced you, and for the first time since you’d arrived in Hell, you could breathe. 

[riacte]

give me half of your heart (and i'll give you all of mine)

In Secret Life, Martyn finds Ren waiting for him when he comes back from hell. (Can read as platonic/romantic/whatever)

-

Martyn panted when he finally saw sunlight come down from above. He'd spent most of his time in the caves, he'd lost an ungodly amount of hearts, and he was finally returning to the warm and brightly lit overworld. Well, at least that was done with. Martyn took one step after the other. The square of light in front of him became bigger and bigger.

Sweat clung onto Martyn's skin (the Nether was a horrible experience as usual, and Martyn knew he'd brought it on himself), his hands shook from exhaustion, and he felt dirty all over. Soot stained his face and hands, his muscles ached, his vision was spinning, and then-

"Martyn?"

A painfully familiar voice. Every cell in Martyn's body came alive. Suddenly, all the broken fragments of his soul sewed themselves together. And Martyn saw it- a hazy silhouette in the sunlight, as whimsical as a dream, a warm welcome to the weary Orpheus as he stumbled out of the underworld.

"REN!" Martyn screamed, and he dashed out of the caves with wild abandon. He instantly collapsed into Ren's arms and held back his sobs of relief. "My liege! You're back!"

Ren laughed, and it was such a wonderful laugh that it brought Martyn back to life again. "Yes! I'm here, Martyn! I missed you so much, dude!"

Martyn looked up to longingly stare at Ren. The sunlight lit Ren up beautifully and it was like he was glowing, but Ren's smile was brighter than the sun itself. Martyn's heart bloomed like a flower that was finally exposed to sunlight after a year of pure darkness.

"Oh my goodness, dude, so much has happened since you left! I-I don't even know where to begin-" Martyn's hearts popped up in the corner of his eye, and he gulped. "I've had a horrible start and I keep on losing hearts. I've literally been to hell and back."

Now that Martyn could relax for a bit, he could feel his adrenaline slipping past him like water through his fingers. He continued to embrace Ren tightly, so very tightly. "How did you even get here?" Martyn questioned. "Did Grian pull some strings?"

Ren chuckled, but it sounded slightly awkward. "Erm, let's just say I have my methods. But don't worry about me, worry about you first, me hand. How are your hearts?"

Martyn exhaled. "I've been heartbroken, my lord." Martyn's voice took on that humble, almost whiny tone he used when he was roleplaying with Ren, except Martyn was using that tone semi-unironically. He could always afford to be vulnerable around Ren.

"My soul's been shattered. I've been unguided since you left. I don't even know what to do anymore. I'm meant to be a survivor, but I'm not even doing a good job at that." Martyn chuckled weakly. He didn't even know why he was doing so badly. He'd been a loose cannon in Limited Life, and now, it felt like all of his strings had been cut, including his own strings of self-preservation. Martyn was basically going around begging for hearts and attention like he was a poor Victorian child stuck outside in the rain. It had taken cajoling to convince Bdubs to give him a heart, and Martyn had been lucky that Bdubs was nice. Martyn, the independent, selfish, survivalist Martyn, knew it would only get worse from now on.

"Oh dear." Ren soothingly patted Martyn's back. "But never fear, me loyal hand! Your king is always happy to provide. If a heart is what you seek, a heart is what I'll give!"

Martyn took a shuddering breath. "But milord, I don't have anything to give back to you," he said anxiously. "I gave my heart to Timmy at the start. A-and I don't know if I have anything of worth with me."

Ren stared solemnly into Martyn's eyes. "Martyn, you devoted lifetimes to me. That's more than enough. That's actually more than I deserve. This is just my small way of repaying you, so please take it."

A red heart fluttered out from Ren's chest. Martyn was drawn to it, fascinated, and he watched as the heart slipped into his own chest. Warmth instantly burst from his heart, and Martyn watched as his health went up. And for a split second, everything was right in the world again. Martyn couldn't help but smile.

"Thank you so much, Ren," Martyn breathed out. How could Ren give him a heart so selflessly in a world of eventual cruelty and war? Ren hadn't even wanted anything from him.

But just as Martyn was instinctively drawn to Ren, Ren was also instinctively drawn to Martyn. They wanted to protect and serve each other. Of course Ren, that old dog, would be kind to Martyn without asking anything else in return. Ren, his generous, noble, compassionate king. Ren, the center of his narrative, the direction of his moral compass, the vow etched into his heart. His one and only, his lifeline, his everything.

Martyn turned to look at Ren, and he was as shiny as ever, the sunlight like a angelic halo around him, so bright that it was blinding, Martyn squinted and stretched out his hand-

"-Martyn! Martyn!"

Hard ground. A pressure on his arm. Martyn's consciousness dizzily returned to him, and he realised he was sprawled on the ground, the weight of his body crushing his hand. Dammit. Had he fainted? How did he get into that position?

"Don't die, Martyn! I already gave you a heart! You can't die in the first session, geez!"

Martyn blearily blinked. His lips parted. "... Ren?"

"No, this is Bdubs," came that voice, and Martyn suddenly felt ashamed. How could he ever mistake Bdubs' recognisable voice? And why was he thinking about Ren? Ren wasn't in this season. Again. That was an indisputable fact.

"What happened?" Martyn asked as Bdubs helped him up.

"I have no idea. I found you collapsed on the entrance to the caves and immediately came running. I was so scared some creeper was gonna blow you up."

Martyn smiled at Bdubs. "Damn, thanks. You're a real one, Bdubs."

"Yeah, yeah, of course I am, I'm the best," Bdubs drawled with zero sense of shame. "Anyways, how are your hearts? I already gave you one, so I hope that has been useful to you."

Martyn laughed awkwardly. "Umm, what do you mean? It's been going great so far! Other people have been giving me hearts-"

Martyn blinked. Wait. People had been giving him hearts, right? Who had given him hearts? Why did Martyn suddenly feel uneasy?

Martyn looked at the line of his hearts. It was just as he remember it, which meant it didn't look good. But then the hearts trembled, and-

Half a heart.

Half a heart popped out of nowhere.

Martyn glanced at it with surprise and mild suspicion. Half an heart... how odd. Maybe his hearts hadn't finished loading. But he couldn't recall losing half a heart of damage. And surely no player could magically give half a heart to him, because the rules stated it was a single heart or nothing.

(Unless that person wasn't a player.)

(Unless that person was merely half of a player- a ghost, a phantom, a figment of someone's imagination, a hallucination, half real and half unreal, called back through space and time to guide his loyal knight.)

Half a heart- it was a weak imitation of the game rules, the desperate effort of someone trying to join the world but knowing they can't. It wasn't whole, it wasn't complete, it was just half, and yet-

Martyn's heart thumped like he'd felt a warm, reassuring hand on it.

Half of a heart. Half of a promise.

Once upon a time, Martyn had given all of his heart to his beloved king. Now, he received half of it back. So it was only natural that he would receive the other half of it some time later.

It was a promise. Not forged in the chilly moonlight, but showered by the warm sunshine this time.

Wait for me, my hand. I'll be back. I promise.

[h-worksrambles]

I have a real bug bear with this strange assumption I see in a lot of online discussion of Engage. That if you didn’t like Engage’s story you must be some Three Houses newbie who doesn’t know what Fire Emblem is.

My dude, this ain’t my first rodeo. I’ve played a pretty good chunk of the series at this point. I played Blazing Blade and Sacred Stones. I played Awakening and Shadows of Valentia. More recently I finished both Tellius games and Genealogy of the Holy War. I know Fire Emblem writing can and has been far better than whatever the hell they were doing with Engage. Hell, I like Three Houses but I don’t think it’s the best Fire Emblem story by a long shot. I could write a whole other piece on my complicated relationship with that game’s writing.

Playing the other games just better highlights to me how Engage is definitely trying to tell a story that harkens back to those games, but routinely comes up short. It wants to be breezy and colourful like the GBA games, but its aesthetic and character design is far less cohesive than any of those three games. It wants to cleverly marry gameplay with story like the SNES Jugdral games but is too scared to let its player punches last longer than a chapter. It wants to key into Awakening’s simple yet heartfelt nostalgic template but fails to clear even that middling bar due to an inability to set up any of its big emotional moments. It repurposes multiple plot points and story concepts from Fates, but doesn’t really improve on any of its shortcomings in setup and character writing.

Most of all, it’s at war with itself, unable to decide whether to be a campy romp that is pure self indulgent fanservice, or a more heartfelt story with genuine dramatic moments. It opens with a wonderfully cheesy tokusatsu esque transformation sequence and never reaches that level of camp again until near the very end. Meanwhile, there are rare moments of genuinely good character stuff. But they’re the exception to the rule as most of the story’s big emotional moments are utterly lacking in buildup. The writers just had a cool scene in mind and didn’t bother to put the work in to earn any of them. What we get is an uncanny valley that ends up simply being boring. It’s too dry and self serious to embrace its naive camp. And it’s too phoned in and sloppily written to really be earnest. There’s a burgeoning theme of family and self identity that’s begging to be explored more but never goes anywhere. Between Alear’s past and hints of a character arc, the clumsy half integration of the Emblems, and other half formed concepts and characters like Veyle, Lumera and Sombron, Engage is a story with a finger in several pies at once, but never placing more than the tip on any of them.

It’s not ‘just a simple story’. Shadows of Valentia and Sacred Stones are simple stories. Engage is honestly one of the more out there and wild plots in the series. Nor is it ‘not taking itself seriously’. It’s absolutely trying to make you feel something. But it rushes through and fumbles every good idea it has. Engage reminds me more of modern Pokémon than anything. It wants to play at being a big RPG. It wants to make you sit through hours and hours of cutscenes, give you a huge colourful cast of characters, and end on a big anime-esque finale. But its dialogue and cutscenes are flat, the characters never hit their full potential, and the big hype moments are totally unearned and out of left field.

If Engage’s story really was just safe and simple, I wouldn’t even mind. If it had more respect for the player’s time, and trimmed down its cutscene length, acknowledging that it’s not doing anything ambitious and just letting you get to the gameplay quicker, that would be fine. Conversely, if it actually did go all the way with any of its half formed themes and characters, it could be genuinely interesting. Hell, it could even have a been a totally bat shit, campy spectacle thar leaned utterly into the cheese and I’d probably have loved it. But it’s none of those things. It’s just incompetently put together. Sloppy, irritating and painfully dry.

The unending Three Houses Vs Engage discourse just misses the forest for the trees. That not only has Fire Emblem not fixed it’s worst writing habits in over 10 years, they’ve actually gotten worse.

It’s apparently too much to ask for a story that can walk the line between falling apart under the weight of its own ambition, or doing the bare minimum and relying on melodramatic spectacle to hide its own shallowness.

It’s too much to ask for a game that is able to give its main character real depth and flaws to grapple with because that would get in the way of the player’s power fantasy, letting them feel like the world’s most special little chosen one who everyone loves unconditionally.

It’s too much to ask for a 50 hour RPG with over 7 hours of cutscenes to reach even the standard level of acceptable-to-good generic fantasy writing that most of its franchise’s predecessors reached.

Engage’s story isn’t a ‘return to form’ because it’s ‘simple.’ It’s not ‘prioritising gameplay over story’. They were trying to tell a story and failed, nothing more to it. It’s an anniversary game that tries to harken back to the series’ past but only repeats its worst qualities with none of the strengths.

[enden-agolor]

I remember you saying something about lukas saving jesse from his own self destruction and ngl I really want to know more abt how lukas does that but it's a triggering topic sooo

(If you don't want to get into that then that's ok)

Oh dude.

It comes down to a multitude of things.

Firstly, Jesse's overworking. Being mayor of the now world renowned BeaconTown, he's got a LOT of things to handle. He has an entire town to run and defend when trouble makes itself known. He's absolutely overworked, and with it becoming a daily pattern, I can see how he'd end up just waking up, going to work, and coming home. Repeat. To the point where he has little to no time to do anything for himself and ends up sabotaging his life outside of work. It gets to the point where work is all he knows? But the thing is, it goes hand in hand with how much he truly loves BeaconTown. He fought for his life to get his town back, so I can see him feeling entitled to overworking, just for the sake of feeling reassured that his home is well maintained and protected. Though this can be a very self destructive habit that can ruin relationships and your own way of life, and I can absolutely see him doing that without realizing.

Second would be his title as hero. Feeling as though he's destined to always be at the head of battle because that was essentially what he was signed up to do from the very beginning. I think it would be very hard for him to leave the hero mindset behind and realize that he doesn't truly have to fight like he used to anymore. He doesn't have to put himself in constant danger. There's others that are willing to help him, and he's already been through sooo much, he absolutely deserves a break, but I don't think he will realize these things without someone telling him, since it's been all he's known for so long.

Third would be his physical appearance. Knowing he looks different from others and hating himself for it, and wishing he could once again feel what it's like to fit in with the people around him, but knowing it will forever be impossible so long as he carries all the scars of the past on his body. I think he's incredibly self conscious about these things, and hides them from others out of fear as to how he may be perceived. Feeling like he's ugly, and constantly comparing himself to others. Makes it hard to look in the mirror. Makes it especially hard to feel like he'll ever be loved, to the point where he dismisses those ideas entirely, pushing the idea of love and relationships into the back of his mind because he genuinely cannot see how anyone would love him for who he actually is and not for being just the big ol hero.

I covered all of these topics in one of my fics, and I'll basically give a quick run down as to how I think Lukas would help Jesse achieve a better lifestyle and get him out of these destructive tendencies.

My Recovery fic is basically about Jesse being forced out of commission because he's been horrifically injured, and having to adjust to not only being out of work, but being away from town. In the fic, he spends his time with Lukas at his home on the outskirts of BeaconTown while he recovers. He's forced to face the facts of his overworking, and the dangerous outlook he has on the Deep Dark (where he got attacked by the Warden) and basically wanting to go back down there because he fears that thing will somehow show up in town. Lukas is EXTREMELY against the idea, basically begging Jesse not to go back and listing all the reasons why he shouldn't, but Jesse being in the hero headspace, refuses to listen to him and sticks to the idea of going back and killing it, even though the Warden was this 🤏 close to killing him. But once again, he's putting his town before his own safety, and this is something that as the story progresses, Jesse eventually realizes is a horrible idea and starts to feel nervous about his decision.

Spending time with Lukas, and being away from work begins to make Jesse realize there is indeed more to life than just that. He begins to fear the idea of dying more and more as his relationship with Lukas closes in and he inevitably realizes he has romantic interest in him. This makes Jesse less willing to wanting to go back to the Deep Dark.

Because of his self destructive ways of thinking, Jesse was willing to die if it meant his town were at least safe. But Lukas absolutely changes his mind on that, and he realizes how badly he wants to live, AND to start making time for Lukas too. So after he recovers, and he and Lukas have gotten together, Jesse does begin to take days off for the sake of spending time with his boyfriend.

Lukas also uhh. Helps Jesse realize he's not ugly or disgusting and that his scars are in fact beautiful and that each one holds a story, but I'm not going to go into that here. 💀

There's a lot more to it but uhh giggle I haven't written those chapters yet so

[buddiefix]

Time Travel (Time Loop) Fic's

The following are some of my favourite buddie fanfiction that involve the character(s) either traveling in time or encountering a time loop.

(Any new fic's I find that fall under this category will be added to this post, so feel free to check back for edits!)

Don't Take the Money by HMSLusitania

9-1-1 (TV)  

“You know, being stuck here isn’t actually the end of the world,” Chimney says, coming up to the table and picking up one of the smoke detectors. “It just feels like it, Buck. Trust me, I know.” “I’m pretty sure it might actually be the end of the world,” Buck says. “Considering this is the sixth time I’ve lived this day.” Chimney stares at him for a beat and then his eyebrows lift. “Wait, are you like – dude, are you in Groundhog Day?”

OR

The post-lawsuit time-loop AU literally no one asked for.

Language: English Words: 21,831 Chapters: 3/3

Encore by Pline

9-1-1 (TV)  

“I’m going insane.”

“Did something happen?”

A dark, bitter laugh bubbles out of Buck – a mockery of joy.

“Everything keeps happening, and it’s still the same fucking day. It’s always the same and every time it’s different and I can’t do anything.”

Or

Buck keeps reliving the same day, over and over again.

Language: English Words: 20,129 Chapters: 2/2

Benign Fatality by EtoileGarden

9-1-1 (TV)  

Eddie noticed it like this;

Sometimes, when Buck’s done a day too many times, he forgets that this day might be the real day, the one that continues on into the rest of his life. It’s exhausting dying and waking up just to go die again. And the thing was, when a death was to do with work, he knew he could just ask to be man behind, or not go into work, but - but who would he be condemning to die in his place if he didn’t go in and try to avoid it? Maybe no one, yes, but maybe someone.

Buck repeats days until he doesn't die in them, has an underdeveloped sense of self worth, and Eddie is the one who wants to step in with him.

Language: English Words: 23,069 Chapters: 4/4

burn the straw house down by rarakiplin (gmontys) for catchingpapermoons

9-1-1 (TV)  

“Why the fuck are you even in this loop? This day isn’t about you.”

“Well, I die,” Eddie comments idly, not sounding as offended as he maybe should be. “Haven’t you heard? I’m always dying.”

“That’s not funny.”

Eddie shrugs, not really agreeing or disagreeing. It’s a few seconds before he says, eyes still closed, “Maybe I’m here so you’re not alone.”

or, buck gets stuck in time, has a break down and then, relatedly, a break through

Language: English Words: 40,271 Chapters: 2/2

a buckley never forgets by sky_of_starflowers

9-1-1 (TV)  

Eddie leaves the 118. Two weeks later, Buck dies in a warehouse fire with a steel beam across his chest. With his final thoughts, Buck begs the universe for a second chance.

Buck wakes up after taking his final breaths to find out that it's the day before Eddie starts at the 118 - August 5th, 2018.

-

Buck dies and instead of staying dead, the universe throws him three and a half years into the past to give Buck another shot.

Language: English Words: 39,102 Chapters: 1/1

but i can see all along, love (it was you all the way down) by diazchristopher

9-1-1 (TV)  

He puts his laptop away after a bit, and paces the length of his apartment as he tries to take stock of the situation at hand.

One: The date is March 22nd, 2024.

Two: It has been March 22nd for 3 days now.

Three: Buck is trapped in some kind of time loop that is forcing him to relive this day.

Four: Eddie is, apparently, in love with him.

And. And.

Five: Buck doesn’t feel the same way.

or, eddie confesses his feelings for buck. buck is absolutely, a hundred percent sure that he does not feel the same way.

the universe has different plans.

Language: English Words: 28,823 Chapters: 1/1

Buck In Time by thea_zara

9-1-1 (TV)

Evan Buckley has gone back in time, and he didn't even get a cool DeLorean.

Language: English Words: 360,079 Chapters: 78/78

my words are paper tigers by hattalove

9-1-1 (TV)  

He wakes up with Eddie's arm thrown over his waist.

There's a pit in his stomach as soon as he opens his eyes, because the alarm is on again, the same radio station, the same song. The sunlight streaming into the room is buttery-soft, brand new because it's early. The alarm is ringing so they can take Chris to school. And—

He reaches out for the bedside table on his side of the bed they share, clumsily unplugs his phone one-handed. The screen lights up to a familiar wallpaper, and it's right there, just above the top of Buck's head: Wednesday.

or: buck breaks up with eddie, even if it means losing a part of himself, because it's the right thing to do. the universe decides to test that conviction.

Language: English Words: 19,981 Chapters: 1/1

(Friendly reminder I do not own any of the works listed in this post, and all can be located on archiveofoureown.org)

[iguana-eyanna]

In Another Universe Pt. 4

Pairing: Ned Leeds x superhero! reader

Summary: Ned's world turns upside down when his new powers bring a stranger to his world. What's more strange is that she knows who he is.

Ned was back in his apartment. Everyone was in the living room while his doppelganger was webbed in his bathroom. (You think there could be a stranger sentence than that, but he begged to differ)

All he was trying to do was make some ramen again for his friends and the girl that came from another dimension.

Peter looked uneasy, probably since he was thinking a million questions at a time.

MJ was more reserved, thinking it wasn't the time to whip out a smart remark.

And then there was you, who sat uncomfortably on the couch.

Ned returned with a tray of ramen, silently giving them to his friends. He sits a seat next to you, as you two haven't said a word to each other since Ned unmasked the Hobgoblin.

You inhaled sharply and looked around the room.

"Okay, all of us have a lot of questions. I think this world's masked hero should take the floor." You said.

Peter's worried state still hasn't changed, but he coughs a bit.

"How-How did you get here?" Peter asks.

"Ned saved me when I was battling Hobgoblin. When I got unconscious, he took me back to your world. We must have not noticed Hobgoblin following us too." You said.

Peter looks over to his friend.

"Dude, that was dangerous. I thought you shouldn't be doing magic outside of your training." Peter says.

Ned knits his eyebrows.

"How was I supposed to know I can open doors to dimensions? I thought I just opened on the other side of town and saw a spider suit. I kept on calling your name but turned out to be her. And don't lecture me on what I can or can't do, Pete. Don't forget how you got rebellious too when you got recognized by Mr. Stark."

Peter felt a bit defensive hearing his old father figure's name, and MJ placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's not get off topic here, we still need to clear things up."

Peter relaxes back in his chair as MJ looks over to you.

"i think we need to address the elephant in the bathroom. How did your Ne-"

"Hobgoblin" You corrected.

MJ acknowledged you.

"How did Hobgoblin originate?"

You waivered, scared of the past that still haunted you.

"I was looking for intel about the original Hobgoblin, Roderick Kingsley. He took over the green goblin's old lair and started terrorizing the city. We found him but...

Hobgoblin left his glider that was on self destruct as he took a run for it. You ran towards Ned who was leaning by the wall. You threw your mask away, as your vision was blurred by your tears.

"Ned..." you whispered, trying to control the bleeding.

All he could do was smile at you. Dear God, he was dying but he looked at you so lovingly.

He couldn't speak, he couldn't say his words to you. All he could do was smile and held your face in his hands. He closed his eyes and never opened them again.

"No, no, baby wake up. Please wake up!" You screamed, trying to shake him. You released a blood-curling scream, holding onto him as you mourned the death of your first love.

Suddenly, you brought your head up. You turn around frantically as you spot your bag in the water. You ran to it quickly, finding the serum that the original Green Goblin has used but Kingsley corrected it.

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you go." You said, hoping one day Ned would forgive you.

A tear rolled down your cheek as you held yourself.

"The serum didn't work, and I didn't have time to defuse the bomb. I had to go, the sewer closed in when I got out. No one could find anything there. He was just gone, and I was to blame."

Everyone was silent, as all was heard were your sniffles.

"Then how am I alive?" Ned asks.

You can't look at him, as it only brought more pain.

"A few months later, I turned in Kingsley. Then, there were more sightings of a glider on my patrols. I thought it was a copycat of a copycat, but he started to watch my every move. It wasn't until he caught me off guard and chose to fight. It was like he knew my every move, and the only thing he said to me was... that I left him for dead.

That's when I knew and... I never rested till I could save him one more time."

Peter understood, he can count the many times he wishes he could save the people that he couldn't.

You got up from your seat, trying not to break apart.

"Someone needs to watch over him, I'll take the first shift." You said, heading upstairs.

"Hey..." Ned said, making you whip your head to him.

"Be careful." Ned said, but failed to say what he really meant. You hesitate for a moment, but you still went up in silence.

Ned sat back in his seat, burying his hands in his head.

"My doppleganger is locked up in my bathroom. Can this day get any worse?" Ned said out loud.

As if a cruel joke was made towards Ned, there was a knock on the door.

MJ and Peter jumped upright as well as Ned.

Peter walks over carefully and saw who it was through the peep hole.

"It's Wong!" Peter whispers out loud.

"What?" Ned whisper yells.

"What is he doing here?" MJ asks.

"How should I know?"

"You're his apprentice!" MJ and Peter screamed back.

Peter goes up to Ned, placing his hands on his friend's shoulders.

"We need to tell him what's been happening."

"And risk getting into more trouble?"

"Well what do you think we should do?" Peter raises his voice.

Ned combs his hair with his fingers with frustration.

"Go upstairs and warn that Wong is here, I'll try to kick him out."

The two run upstairs as Ned takes a deep breath before opening the door.

"Master Wong! What brings you here?" Ned asks too enthusiastically.

Wong walks in Ned's apartment, hands behind his back.

"I would have used a portal to meet you but Strange said that's 'rude.' I wanted to check on you and see how you were."

"I am A-Okay! Peachy Keen even!" Ned said.

Wong looks at him seriously, making Ned sweat prefusebly.

"I felt I was too harsh on you the last time we spoke. You're still trying to understand your powers, and I felt my responsibilities as Sorcerer Supreme were affecting my judgements on you."

Ned was a bit shocked from Wong's words.

"Oh, um, thank you Master Wong. You didn't have to come all this way." Ned said, hoping he'd leave.

But instead, Wong sat down on the couch, sighing.

"You know Ned, I see so much of myself in you, and I want to see you in your full potential-"

Suddenly, there was a loud thump you could hear from upstairs.

"What is that?" Wong asks.

"That's my... turtle."

Wong raises an eyebrow.

"It sounds like you have a big turtle." Wong says, not convinced.

"Yeah, let me check on it. I'll be back." Ned said, running upstairs.

He goes at the end of the hall and sees MJ trying to hold down the door.

"What's going on?" Ned whispered screamed.

"Your doppelganger woke up in a rampage! I've been holding down the door while the two try to fight him."

The door almost pried open, but MJ and Ned was able to lean against it with force.

"Ned? What's wrong?" Wong calls from downstairs.

"Nothing! I'll make sure to visit the temple this week!" Ned screamed back.

They both tried to hold back the door but it was no use. The door flew back as well as both of them, where MJ was slammed by the wall and Ned at the end of the hall.

He looks up and see you and Peter trying to fight Hobgoblin off, but he was too strong. Peter turned around and saw MJ hurt, so Hobgoblin used the opportunity and threw both of you off of him.

You landed by Ned, groaning as he heard a crack and saw you holding your waist. Hobgoblin takes you by the collar and lifts you up in the air.

He looks down at Ned, grinning.

"You must have loved having her in your life, but let me tell you... you're better off without her." he said, closing his hand around your neck.

"N...Ned... I'm sorry..." You croaked, before fluttering your eyes as you couldn't stay conscious for long.

"Stop!" Ned yelled out, his hands glowing yellow. A string of light wrapped around Hobgoblin's arm. Ned pulled the rope down as Hobgoblin lost grip of you as you landed on the ground.

Hobgoblin tried to free himself from Ned's enchantment but he couldn't.

"Don't. Touch. Her." Ned gritted before moving his hands in a sphere like motion, using magic to bind Hobgoblin.

Ned catches his breath as he never used that much magic before. He bends down towards you and holds you up, trying to call you by your name.

"Ned."

He looks up and sees Wong standing by the staircase, looking at him and Hobgoblin who was still trying to break his binds. In the corner, Peter hugs MJ as she has a minor cut on her forehead. He repeatedly asks if she's alright, and looks over to Ned with an unsure look.

Wong carefully walks over to Ned who's tearing up as all he could do was hold you against his chest.

"She's- she's not breathing." Ned whispered, slightly sobbing.

"Let's bring them to the Sanctum, I'll call Strange to help." Wong said softly, as Ned's hands were still glowing a light shade of yellow.

Ned nodded slowly as he carefully lifted you. Wong used a portal to surround Hobgoblin as he disappeared from their sight.

Wong also opens a portal to the sanctum as Ned followed quickly.

"We need to follow them." MJ said, grabbing Peter's hand.

"But you're still hurt." Peter said, coming to a halt.

MJ looks back at him.

"For the hundredth time, I'm fine. Ned needs us there, Peter... more than ever."

Peter hesitantly nods his head and follows MJ until the portal closed. As they all arrived in the Sanctum, Wong cleared a table as Ned laid you softly there. He took off his varsity jacket, folding it as he placed it behind your head for comfort.

"Will she be alright?" Ned asks.

"I'm not sure, we need Strange here now." Wong said.

As if on cue, a portal opened and entered Strange looking alarmed.

"What happened?" He asks, nearing the table as you laid unconscious.

"I think she cracked her ribs and her larynx is bruised." Ned replied.

"Who did this?" Strange asked as he started to examine you.

"Um- my uh, me. Well- a different form of me-"

"A doppleganger came to our world, she's also not from here." Wong answered for Ned.

"They have some incredible strength to have done this damage. I need you all to leave so I can focus."

"No, I'm staying with her."

"Look kid, I don't need your youthful incompetence. You need to leave NOW." Strange demanded.

"Ned, let Dr. Strange help her." Peter said carefully, never seeing his friend so upset.

Ned takes one glance at you and stormed away, finding the terrace so he could find some air.

Now alone, he begins to cry, slightly sobbing. With his building rage, he created ball of light and threw it in the air, screaming his frustration.

"You took them here, didn't you?" Wong asks as he stood behind Ned.

The Leeds boy takes a deep breath and looks over to his teacher. He didn't look angry... just worried.

"I didn't mean to. I was trying to practice to open portals to show you that I'm committed to be your apprentice. Then I thought the best way to do it right was if I could focus on something. I was envisioning my dreams and thought of her, I didn't think she'd be real."

"You're dreams weren't fictional. You were able to access the memories of your doppelganger when you were unconscious. It's a rare gift because not everyone can remember different memories of themselves for long periods of time." Wong said.

"But out of all people, why her? Why did I have to come in her world and brought her here?" Ned asks, looking out.

Wong walks up to Ned and joins him.

"Our powers are deeply connected to our emotions. Perhaps when you were opening your portal, you were trying to find someone, because you were alone. And maybe... you knew that she felt alone too."

Ned fell silent. He never realized how his answers were right there in front of him.

"How can I make this right?" Ned asked with his head hanging low.

"To find what you're looking for, you must search the answer within you." Wong imparted before he left Ned.

As he left, he raised his head and clenched his fist.

Turning around, he closed his eyes and focused, creating a portal. He entered into a dark room, located at the bottom of the Sanctum. He walked down the steps and saw Hobgoblin imprisoned in the magic cell.

Ned stopped in his tracks as his eyes turned dark.

"We need to talk."

Taglist:

@tenmaabnesti

@diysyfhcjtssuiteryyxhcft

[daughterofdarkness777]

poem for nobody

RUN / Don’t call me your muse I might be amused don’t you know a muse dies tragically in a poetic way since she is a broken femme fatale that inspires artists well  look at me what do you see? Exactly. You thought my eyes were blue. You thought I looked like you . You thought I’m empathetic but wow you are beyond pathetic anyway this isn’t about YOU, because you are nobody’s muse . Gifts and trips all around the globe Santa Claus always brought me more more more .  Silver spoon I spat it out immediately  i bit the hand that actually never fed me , I’ve been starving since 1995. But I’ll change the paradigm Fuck it I’ll turn it all around . I’ve lost it all already so now I’m free free from any fear being fearless is a gift it’s my superpower now and throw it all at me you’ll see disagree I don’t care I know nobody would go near a bee for me this isn’t my girl anymore since I stand alone . You know what ? I am a muse. Just not yours . My own muse. Redefining the weight that word carries imma muse who is immortal you can’t touch me abuse me or hurt me in any way just try me you can not defy me I’m fucking magic call  me Hermione. Resilient brilliant both my traits .  I’m happy I’m sad where is the difference! I’m in my feelings no drake. This is the part where you start crying … can you hear me crying ? I hate to be to break this to you but you’ve got em all fooled they think you’re the shit but I can see right through you death becomes me not you . Immortality eternal beauty cmon look at yourself or better don’t cause if you take a good look and see through this image you so profoundly worked on for years the mirror might crack and you’ll see a toddler in an adults body pathetic as Fuck no ounce of confidence nor self image.Whoa this shit Is wack. I actually thought I was the one the one who was to blame for all your selfish games and every time I spoke my truth you made me feel insane you were clearly winning at your own game well now the tables are turned and I have switched ,  I’ll never be your bitch, those 4 Years i can’t have them  back you robbed me even of that time , my time , it’s not something I regret now I can spot monsters like you from a far and one last thing if you’re a superstar dude then I am an introvert very shy invisible to everyone around me . You’re so funny although you lack a sense of humour all the yarn you spin daily the fabrications you have to make up  so you can live with yourself . Someone should be honest with you . You’re nobody a zero boring to a degree that could be lethal so stop inflicting pain onto others who do you think you are babes ? You’re not a special snowflake you’re talentless beyond belief how could I have missed your kiss   ? Stupid me stupid you stupid world stupid people around us , that’s the past tho the future will come for you and when it does you’re not gonna make it through . Weak as hell lying  is the only thing you know how to do . Now enough about you I’m happy you shaped me into who I am today I’m glad about everything I’ve been through they  say once you’re in hell start running I am racing. And I’ll be dancing in fire dressed in my crying boy attire a trip to Venus all I desire . I’m non conforming to anyone any longer yup I’m a million times stronger .  Beg you run . Go ahead you’ll soon be dead dont waste your time with a vampire incapable of love /don’t  touch me no you can’t hold my hand I’ve been burnt before that’s why my love is deficit surely ain’t affectionate all I wanna do is spend time with her just her so go run you don’t compare you’ll never be anything like her . Run away . It’ll be okay . I don’t want to know if you reep what you sew. 

[troph4eum]

The Doctrine of Transcendent Magic

im currently reading this book called transcendental magic by this old guy who married a minor. hes a piece of shit and im glad he's rotting but i was reading about the baphomet on wikipedia as it's always been an interesting symbol to me an i came across his interpretation of it. this intersection of both physical and metaphysical concepts made to represent balance is super cool. and it aligns with trophaeum in a way as well.

im skipping chapters in his book in order to get to the parts im interested in. but its a bunch of occult shit that seems rlly interesting it just requires a lot of knowledge on other occult + religious things that i frankly do not have. my reading into buddhist cosmology and percy jackson aint doin shit for me LMAO.

however, this passage here about what the pentagram signifies is kinda cool to me. to be honest i had trouble fully understanding what all of it means so i used discord ai to break it down for me and it got like 10x cooler. what mostly stumped me was the "suitably disposed" part but ay it is what it is. ik now.

Dude I just pressed CTRL+Z to undo a typo and it fucking erased like basically all of what I wrote. Time to rewrite all of it ig lol.

(wtv i write now is gonna b a lot less inspired sounding tbh)

I think this connects to Trophaeum brilliantly. The idea that through taking control over your mind and soul you can ascend past physical limitations and with that skill and the right mentality of open mindedness to the world, even if it includes the obscure and peculiar, you can achieve limitless knowledge and be uplifted by all aspects of reality.

However, putting this in a more realistic context like Trophaeum, what would this mean? It begs the question: What is the cause and effect relationship between your mentality and how the reality molds around your world. Could the world truly be yours with enhanced perception of self and acceptance of things that you can not explain or control? Wouldn't that lead into self acceptance and self identification? How well do you really know yourself? How do you know you're in control of yourself? And if you're not can you accept it and open the eye to your soul and get a grasp at limitless understanding? There's a lot of convoluted symbolism going on here that could be interpreted in a myriad of ways. Which is why I appreciate Trophaeum so much. It allows you to develop your own interpretation of what the concept signifies and therefore you can develop your own road to it. I'll make a post discussing roads at a later date. Let's move on

This passage mentions the soul being able to perceive itself and the body it inhabits independently. Which I find to be a weird observation because like, ofc you already know that but it's not something you're really conscious of. And the ability for the soul to act independently through your imagination is explored very creatively in this. Basically it explains your imagination as a construction of images and reflections sourced from this concept called the living light. Now living light sounds like another name for a deity which is can be asserted that it is. However it is unclear. What is told to us that a genius is capable of seeing past the distortions of the light and the true "body of light"

Now, connecting back to the previous passage, I believe that the direction this is going is that by using the pentagram (figuratively) you can achieve limitless access to the living light while also having dominion over the physical world.

This idea aligns with the formless realms in Buddhist cosmology. More specifically the sphere of infinite consciousness. In the formless realms, they exist outside of any physical cosmology. They transcend dimensionality as a concept. Ridding themselves of physical distractions to focus on two things: Perception and Consciousness. Through these realms the Devas discover new forms of perception and are able to experience them because of their unique existence.

My point in saying all of this is that through the prerequisites described in the pentagram description, combined with ability to see through the distortions caused by ignorance (as described in the second passage with genius' being described as transparent and commoners opaque referring to how the light flows through them) you can have unlimited access to extended consciousness and perception. Which as also explained in the first passage, access to the infinite and access to the body of light both individually grant power of physical limitations such as the elements.

The only problem is, anyone living in modern times knows that's a bunch of bullshit. Like believe what you wanna believe but this is all very clearly metaphorical. But that's my favorite part. Because I can apply this metaphor to real life.

In the description for The Sphere of Infinite Consciousness, it describes consciousness as infinitely expanding. Which it is. I asked earlier how much do you know about yourself, well I know almost for a fact it's less than you think. There are certain patterns that you will not notice unless someone else is observing you. Like light for instance. A light particle could go its entire existence as a wave. Until it is observed and miraculously becomes a particle. You behavior is like that aspect of quantum mechanics. You dont notice any abnormal behavior because it is not being observed by anyone who isnt living by your standards of normal. Of course the things you do will go unnoticed by you if they're strange. I mean, you're the one doing them it was your decision. Only when observed by someone else will you begin to notice them.

For instance, back when I was in school I was in a Theater class. We took an exercise where we partnered up with someone and listened to them talk uninterrupted for a certain amount of time. Afterwards, we would tell them what speech patterns they exhibited whether they be word choice, body language, inflection, etc. somebody found out they did something they did not know that they did. For example, whenever I'm speaking out loud, I struggle to not begin every sentence with "aight so" or something of the sort. It's a vocal crutch that I never noticed because it's never the actual content of my sentence so it matters very little to me. The thing is, once pointed out to me, I struggled to start a sentence without it. It was as if I could not muster a sentence without doing it.

That's the effect of learning something new about yourself. It's an out of body experience, because for once you're not perceiving yourself from how you usually do. You're seeing yourself from someone else's perspective. The small things that used to go unnoticed are now loud and overtly apparent. Now imagine if you were always outside of yourself. Formless. Able to see everything because there is no physical limitation. Only how much your awareness has expanded. It's all there. Your consciousness just hasn't reached that point yet.

If you think about your life in the context of endless reincarnation until you reach enlightenment, like in Buddhism, your consciousness has always been infinitely expanding. In many cultures death is not the end. It is just the beginning. So as you live your life, your consciousness continues to expand, a new experience, a new sense, something new is always happening up until you die. But after you die? You get a new life, new experiences, new senses, new everything. Over and over and over until you think you are aware of everything in this mortal plane and then you hatch out of your physical form and realize how much there is to experience.

Which reminds me of a short story called The Egg by Andy Weir. A first person story describing your life as a man in his 40s who died in a car accident and he's having a conversation with God before being reincarnated. The grand reveal is that all of humanity is one collective being that is running through its incubation until it is mature enough to hatch into a god. Trillions of lifetimes, spent on gaining empathy, wisdom, experience, and it's all linked to consciousness.

Can an enhanced consciousness allow you to control the world around you and give you your perfect life? probably not. But I think it's a combination of all we've talked about. Mentality, open-mindedness, perception, knowledge, overcoming ignorance, and self acknowledgement you can learn to not just navigate through life, but build your own road to Trophaeum and achieve balance.

[little666wrath]

So like this is what happened…I’m being abused and been in and out of psychwards for the past 4 months. Nothing but God and Jesus were being shoved down my throat. I prayed everyday sometimes more so if I had nothing to do. I have been come crippled and my irl hell is way to much mentally I can’t go on. So October (like two weeks ago) I just came home from the plainview Long Island hospital were i was bleeding and injuries and I begged them to keep me safe. They didn’t even notice I just got dressed and walked out <23 female with a walker and boot on here leg? For 20 min I waited outside to see if someone would notice. Not until my dad went to look for me did a nurse notice I left and came out and yelled at me.

Like I was heavily just holding on that god will give me serenity as a chanted na meetings for month. Trust god right.

So I come home that night feeling hopeless that my suffering will never end. I went to shower and my pain just over took and I fell down crying. No one in my house cared (I’m nearly blind in one eye dude to hitting my head on a car door)

With all that being said I gave up on god. I said no god would make this beautiful girl with a pure soul suffer this much. So I said fuxk it im selling my soul to Satan. So I got up out of the shower <put my first satanic shirt with a cat on it. Love it> some nice pants. Sat down and cried. I held a sharp object and just went to town to numb my pain. To prove I was in reality. I just could not believe my out come.

So I said Lucifer if you make all my dreams come true and get me out of my earthly hell I’ll forever show you true love. That’s all I have left. He saw me and took me that second. No hesitation and as I bleed I felt serenity like the world stopped. I felt safe.

I went downstairs to take all my medicine <like 8 or 9 different ones all every 6 hours> I haven’t taken it that night because of the hospital and then Kristina was abusing me and it was a mess. So I wait till 3:33 am my safe hour. And a mess broke out. <keep in mind I just hurt myself> Kristina started harassing me and I threw a water bottle at her and it nicks head and oh boy was in for it. He turns around and his face was legit all black red eyes. He ran over to me and screamed at me as I fell down. I was on my back legs up <broken foot> and he start threatening me saying he was gonna send me to a psych ward forever and never let me see the light of day again if I don’t clean up my act and stop acting like this. I was holding my ears crying and sobbing and I finally got up and ran to my room and I was having full PTSD attack. Like I was screaming they were following me I was calling 911 screaming for help and all they’d said is “calm down or we can’t help you”

Like lmao k.

The cops and everyone came and it was just traumatic 

I have this all on video will come out when my movie comes out.

So I was in the worst hospital that started my abuse and abused me even more than the first time. It’s just no way god had me protected or my back in anything.

Last two nights in the wards (they took all my pain meds away) at 3 am I’d be in extreme pain and crying and vomit and no staff cares. I was on 101 and they’d sleep through it lmao.

Satan cleaned up my vomit.

Lucifer held my hand when I thought death was taking me.

Baphomet gave me to strengthen to love my self and my past that I blocked out.

My three animals were there for me when I was homeless.

Satan walked with me.

Lucifer saved me.

Baphomet gave me serenity to love how beautiful I am.

“In the name of the holy spirit” my ass

In the name of Cooper, Kells, Roxie Ann

Our colors blue, pink and purple.

Their love got me out of the hospital in 5 days. Im not going back ever. Im strong and all mighty

Then to seal the deal I put my soul of mine and my protector cooper (his fur) into a jar and made it so innocent and pretty and perfect, and pure nothing but good intentions. Satan told me to give it to my protector so I gave it to my god mom he lead me to.

I did it! I dreamt with Lucifer and King Paimon!

☆I dreamt about me making a dinner for them to just talk. I made some prayers on my dream (That I can't remember) but appart from King Paimon and Lucifer, there was another demon, Andrealphus!

☆The first to arrive was Andrealphus, but not on his peacock form, but rather a shoebill... funny

☆Next to arrive was King Paimon, but he wasn't in his usual form. He had a fox head, frog legs and human torso. He was very nice and chatty though, he had such kind aura I felt safe.

☆Last to arrive was Lucifer, I couldn't see him, he was like a shadow but he was there. He didn't talk but I thanked him and everyone for coming and I appreciate their company.

Thoughts? Is it a signal for Andrealphus to be in my dream even though I didn't call for him?

[handelplayssims]

Right. Back at the Wallace’s after having Candy go over and pick up things of Yuki’s and sell off things from what was once her home. Man. But not that that concerns the Wallace family. They had no clue about Yuki and no reason to be sad. Only I am the one who suffers.

Right, Ashlynn awoke with a sore back thanks to this low-quality bed. Might think about putting in a new one. And the all important thing while at it, figuring out what furniture style they like. I decided to pick up the Crosshatch Delight from Seasons, and with it, the Mid Century furniture as their particular favorites, though I also add Farmhouse, another décor style the specific bed is tagged for, for Ashlynn.

Anyway, it’s Neighborhood Brawl day, a randomized holiday that can pop up on occasion. Incidentally, Zayne can’t participate in it as a child. Santiago and Kiara don’t care but Ashlynn loves this holiday. Sounds about right, you hot-head you. Ohp, and there she goes. Off to work on a Saturday. Crime stops for no one!

Zayne. Just a thought. Maybe you eat your food not near the father you are currently grudging with, yeah? Anyway, I’m having Santiago fix up the better with firmness controls so that the mattress gives nice moodlets upon sleep. I’m turning Santiago’s shared sadness upon his wife’s discomfort into action! And then I’ll go upgrade those bathroom appliances like I was going to do. Once I’m done with that, I hear we have an alert for more mail meaning more celebuserum potions, which’ll combo nicely off of Santiago needing skill gain increase to get that promotion! I drink a confident one and set him to work writing up a self-help book. To combo off of his confident moodlet from doing good repair work. Oh and of course he drinks it in his son’s proximity, giving him that ultra tense moodlet again. Zayne, by the by, is doing homework, nerd he is.

So with that tense moodlet, what to do? ...I’d say he needs a break from this household. There is a neighborhood play area out and about. Let’s head on over and play space explorer! Santiago finished his book so let’s write another! Zayne’s still tense so a dip in the family pool should help. Aye! Kiara’s finally awake! And two hours before her daycare shift. Also at long last are we actually cooking for the family again. And it’s more grilled salmon. -shrugs- I mean it’s either this or fish tacos and I’d rather go for the one that’s salmon only. Though it ended up in awful quality. -shrugs- I blame routing making Ashlynn automatically go “Ooooh, son! I want to chat with my son!” Annnd tense moodlet on Zayne as father eats food near him again. Welp. I would have him run off elsewhere but I want to have Ashlynn actually fight people. I’m going to call up his closest friend to vent. Jace Cruz. Kid I made myself who’s also a genius.

And now I finally having Ashlynn fight a random dude off the street, my favorite way to celebrate this holiday. Guy named Brad Mayer, a file clerk. We punch his lights out and then we head home to snooze.

Welp it’s time. TIME FOR BEAR! Just before Zayne heads to bed even. Welp, lets head to bed then. Annd we got monsters under Zayne’s bed. Good thing Kiara is here to help! I would have her ask about the bear thing but she doesn’t seem to care as a teen. Zayne’s heading back to bed and Kiara’s going to have a bit of fun with the cat Scotch. She did and now it’s time for food for her. I was thinking of having her have some salmon but I think she could probably tell it wasn’t great. Besides which, inspired moodlet! Perfect for cooking and making a salad. And now both of her whims pull towards painting. And so we paint! Decided to paint the night sky. Do so like stars and that stuff. And then we had our kitty cat begging for attention.

Hmm. Painting didn’t turn out so well. Kinda just blue with some light dots around it. Ah well. Anyway, it’s 5AM so it’s well past time for-!

Neighborhood Watch!

Mt. Komorebi: The Kobayashi household recently moved in.

Evergreen Harbor: The Ferhat household recently moved in.

Elaine Thorne in the Thorne household has started a job as a Bean Blender in the Barista career.

Lucia Arellano in the Arellano household has died. Lucia was victim to a vicious chicken attack.

[jungkxook]

—make it right. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader 

⟶ genre: punk!jungkook / band au / exes-to-lovers au / angst / smut

⟶ words: 11,528

⟶ rating: 18+ 

⟶ summary: you’re wholeheartedly, madly in love with jungkook and yet you shouldn’t be because it’s been almost a year since you broke up with him. worst part of it all is that you know he’s still in love with you too

⟶ warnings: jungkook has a tongue piercing, oral sex because of said tongue piercing (fem!recieving), more tattooed and long haired jungkook to feed my fantasies, angsty pining clingy sex, also just general soft sex, crying sex lol, riding, creampie, slight praise kink themes, unprotected sex

⟶ disclaimer: here’s my one year blog anniversary present inspired by the first ever fic i posted on here! yes this is technically a sequel to melomaniac but not really. sort of like an alternate universe to the alternate universe but you don’t really have to read one or the other to understand the other. so, i hope you enjoy!

⟶ this is part of the melodrama tour series!

You swear you’re over Jungkook.

In fact, you would even go so far as to say you hate him ━ but you know that’s not true. It’s just that it’s much easier to believe that if you tell yourself you hate him enough times, then maybe you’ll find a way to fix your broken heart, and the pain in his absence won’t hurt so bad. 

As it turns out, it hardly works.

Seven months since he had left you to travel the world with his band, basking in promised eternal glory and fame and money, and yet even miles and oceans away from where you stand, he’s all you can think about. There’s a myriad of reasons as to why trying to forget him was an useless endeavour. The hardships of trying to forget a cherished life-long friendship you had grown accustomed to was one of them, and those lingering happy moments you had shared with him as lovers however fleeting they may be was another. But then there was the ever present fact that Jungkook and his band were so quick to rise to fame, their names far exceeding the seemingly cramped and small city you had both reigned from, and suddenly the boy you had known forever, and everything special that makes him, was now being shared to hundreds of millions of adoring fans.

You were certain it was all Jungkook ever wanted, the added attention and the pretty girls fawning over him, because he had always been a casanova in many ways despite always promising you that you were the only one for him even before you had started dating. You had told him it wouldn’t work ━ I trust you as my best friend, you had said in a moment of despair, grasping at straws. I don’t have to worry about you breaking my heart. But I don’t know if I can trust you as my boyfriend ━ far before he and his band had been signed to their record label and paraded around the world, when they were still practicing in rented storage units and friends’ garages and rundown local studios, playing gigs anywhere and everywhere from dingy bars to college campus parties, supporting him every step of the way if only because he was your best friend, and he had been so persistent that it would work, chasing after you even when you tried to push him away. I would treat you right, he had urged so ardently late one drunken night after stumbling back to his apartment. I already practically worship the ground you walk on.

And how could you ━ who had already been so madly in love with him but scared of him breaking your heart, scared of losing him, scared of this happening ━ ever resist him? He made love seem so easy, and maybe that’s because it was when you were with him. But now, he was no longer yours; now, he was the world’s, and you were nothing but a mere hazy fragmented memory in his mind, long forgotten, watching from the side of the stage much like you always had from the very start of it all.

“Hey, isn’t this that band?” Jihyo’s voice bursts through your wandering trail of thoughts.

It takes you a moment to recollect yourself, finding yourself not in the arms of an ex-lover or stuck in a bygone time of months past, but in the cosy and amiable café nearest your campus and frequented by a plethora of your fellow peers. You’re fortunate to find that your other group mates have also become sidetracked, trailing far from the assignment you were all supposed to be working on. Dahyun is perched beside you, chin nestled in the palm of her hand and elbow propped on the table as she scrolls aimlessly through her phone; Jihyo and Taeyong were sat across from you, gossiping fervently about some mutual friend of theirs. You hadn’t known the pair long enough to know much about them or the tragic affair of whoever Mina is for accepting her cheating boyfriend back for the second time, and, likewise, they seem oblivious to your own self-wallowing once you realize what’s caught Jihyo’s sudden attention.

You hear his voice first.

It’s easy to discern, even after all this time and even amongst the muffled chatter and clanking of porcelain and cutlery of those seated around you. The sweet, velvety lull of Jungkook singing throughout the café from the overhead speakers, pretty upbeat melodies and synths mixed with wistful words making up the song he had written for you before he left, before the fame and fans, as a way of telling you how he truly felt about you. It feels like a dream, and maybe that’s because it is, bringing you instantly to another time, and another world. You still remember him showing you the unfinished song for the very first time, curled up next to him in his living room, listening to him serenade you to sleep, humming in places where he hadn’t formed the words yet, strumming along with his acoustic. It was yours and his until he showed the world almost a year ago on their very first show at the Seoul Olympic Stadium in front of thousands of people, as a final desperate act of proclaiming his love for you after a disastrous attempt at a first date that he had begged from you. Just one, he pleaded. To prove it to you that I can be a good boyfriend. And if things don’t work out, we can pretend it never happened and just go back to being us. That’s a promise.

At the time, you had treasured the song. It was beautiful in every way, his love transcending his words and enveloping your heart in pure warmth.

Now, you hate it.

It’s the third time you’ve heard the song that day. Despite avoiding it as best as you could, it seems to find a way to make itself known in your daily life like the nagging nuisance it is. Because fate seemed to enjoy its sadistic behaviour of having the song be one of the main reasons Jungkook and his band had skyrocketed to fame in such a short span of time and, suddenly, Jungkook disappearing from your life meant little when his voice remained as a constant reminder of what could have been, what couldn’t have been, and what fell apart at the already fragile seams. And what was a proclamation of love to you turned into nothing but a fabled tale of lovers. You wonder if people who hear it ever think about where they’ve gone, or who they’ve turned into, or if their love was made to last. You wonder, above all else, if people ever think about it at all.

“Beyond the Scene, right?” Taeyong asks. He seems just as animated to be discussing the song as Jungkook’s voice fades into Jimin’s.

“God, I love this song. It’s so dreamy,” Jihyo lets out a longing sigh as she slumps against her seat. “Y’know, I’m seeing them this Friday. It’s their first time being back in, like, five months.”

“Dude, I’ve been trying to get tickets to see them for months now!” Taeyong gaps incredulously. “How’d you score them?”

“A friend of a friend knows the guy who plays keys,” Jihyo says. “The cute mysterious one.”

“Yoongi, right?”

“Yeah━”

As the pair dive into a passionate discussion about the boys and their first full-length album released under their recently-signed-to label from Columbia Records, you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Dahyun almost immediately straightens up, eyes flickering from the pair to you and back again. You’re both fortunate she’s there, having known your past with Jungkook, and despise it a little more, wondering what her pitying gaze must mean.

“Hey, Dahyun. Y/N.” Taeyong’s voice grabs your attention now. “What do you think of these guys? Didn’t some of them used to go to this school?”

“Yeah, I had a few classes with their drummer.” Dahyun waves her hand airly, swiftly brushing over the fact that she did far more than have a “few classes” with any of the boys but was also one of their closest friends. “I think they’re great━” She glances sideways at you one more time. “Hey, maybe we should get back to the assignment now━”

“I had a class with their lead guitarist, Jungkook, last year,” Jihyo continues, her excitement getting the best of her as Dahyun’s voice drowns out in the foreground.

“No way!” This dubious exclamation comes from Taeyong.

“I tried talking to him once but he totally blew me off,” Jihyo says. “Which is fine, because he’s still hot. If I had known he was gonna be a famous rockstar, I’d have tried asking him out a second time━”

Suddenly, you feel sick.

It’s odd to hear two strangers discuss Jungkook’s life while you’re seated across from them, as if you’re nothing more than an outsider to whoever Jungkook has become now. But you can’t stand it anymore. You’re certain you look insane to them when you push your seat back abruptly, the metal legs screeching against the floor as you stand.

“Whoa, what’s wrong━?” Taeyong starts to ask but you’re gone before he can finish the question, murmuring a half-hearted excuse about how you forgot you needed to be somewhere.

You’ve rounded on your heel and have fled from the café before anyone can try to stop you, with nothing but Jungkook’s mellifluous voice fading in the distance as he croons aloud for you in a time long since passed.

You don’t care. Besides, you’re sure Dahyun will cover for you.

The worst part of it all? The dreadful realization that sinks into your mind, and into your heart, beckons the question: who’s to say you aren’t a stranger now to Jungkook’s life altogether?

“So, what are you trying to say?”

You remember the moment so clearly despite wanting nothing more than to forget it all, and the pain associated with it. Because even from then you knew you would always be in love with Jungkook, but you couldn’t have him. It’s hard to remember whose fault it is this time that caused the sudden fight, though random little arguments had been a frequent occurrence nearing the end of your one year relationship more often than not. You hate blaming it all on him, because you were certain you were at fault too. Maybe a little bit wary at times, a little selfish, wanting him all to yourself. Even though you knew he has an obligation to the world, it still hurt when he started making promises he couldn’t keep, blowing you off for soundchecks, or spontaneous interviews, or record label meetings. More and more you could feel the both of you drifting apart, maybe without even meaning for it to happen.

It was just that Jungkook was destined for a lifetime of greatness, and you were starting to think that meant without you.

You had stopped him late one night after he had stumbled home from his and the band’s nightly studio sessions as they worked through recording their debut album as a signed band. Lately, it seemed as if that was all that Jungkook cared about, and while you knew the band meant the world to him and you would always support him in his endeavour, you couldn’t help but feel lesser in comparison. That, and you hated seeing the boy overwork himself to the point of near exhaustion every night if only because their label was so adamant about having the album finished before the month ended.

“You want to, what? Break up?” Jungkook asked, this time more incredulously and less dumbfounded as he had initially been. He didn’t believe you just yet, but you couldn’t exactly tell what he was thinking anymore at that point.

“I just figured we could use some time apart,” You had suggested awkwardly. “Just a break.”

He had let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. “Y/N, this is insane.”

You flinched. You remember having to look away, refusing to meet his suddenly sorrowful look. “Is it, Jungkook? I mean… Look at us. We’re falling apart. It was bound to happen eventually. We tried to make it work but maybe we’re on different paths now.”

“But I love you,” Jungkook gasped, exasperated. “Where is this coming from?”

“And I don’t want to have to tie you down for the rest of your life,” You continued on stubbornly, “or make you think you owe me your whole life just because you said you fell in love with me when you were thirteen━”

This seemed to catch Jungkook’s attention. He grew rigid in front of you, a look of wary agony contorting his face. “Is that what this is then? You don’t love me anymore?”

You didn’t respond immediately, instead the dread of the night seemed to finally catch up with you and you had grimaced. You had loved him even then, but the thought of voicing it aloud when you were supposed to be breaking up with him didn’t feel right. The tears began to swell in your throat and blur your vision. Jungkook must have noticed, because he always seems to spot the small things about you that even you miss. Almost instantly, the sour look on his face softened and his gaze turned helpless, with those big puppy-dog eyes that you’ve always been too fond of. He closed the distance between you at once, warm hands grabbing at your own.

“You do.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He knew you were still in love with him ━ or maybe he’d just been hopeful. “I know you do. So then why are you breaking up with me?” 

He let go of one of your hands to reach up to your face, calloused fingers gentle and soft against your cheek as they brushed away a rogue tear you hadn’t realized had fallen from your lashes. For a moment, you had let yourself get carried away. You leaned into the comforting heat and touch of his palm as he cradled your face.

“Don’t━” You choked out after a moment of silence, hating when your voice splintered into a sob. “Don’t touch me. Please, Jungkook. You’re only going to make this harder.”

His hands sprang away from your face almost at once, as if he had just been burnt by scalding fire. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull you into his arms but he had refrained the urge somehow, miraculously. So, instead, he grit his teeth and clenched his hands into fists as his arms fell limp at his sides.

“Then don’t do this. Don’t walk away,” Jungkook pleaded desperately. “I don’t understand. If you love me still, why are you making this harder for yourself?”

“Because what if that’s all we have in common anymore?” You asked wretchedly. “We care about each other. We always will. But you’re focused on the band, and this is my last year of school. Maybe we just need time to focus on ourselves.”

Jungkook blinked once. Twice. His stare was suddenly devoid of any emotion as he gawked at you, but you could tell that he was hurting. It was there in the fluttering of nerves in his jaw; there, in the way his lips pulled taut into a thin line; there, in the way even you could see his eyes begin to shimmer with wet tears that he unabashedly displays without trying to wipe away.

“So that’s it?” he asked. “After everything we’ve been through. You’re just gonna end it, like that? Y/N, come on━”

His hands had found purchase on your waist, and you had lingered for a moment too long; then, fumbling, he tried to grab delicately at your face, probing you to look at him. But you couldn’t. The moment you met his wounded gaze, you shook your head furiously. You had slithered out of his grasp, slipping through the seams of his fingers just like that.

“I━” You paused. “This isn’t some spur of the moment decision, Jungkook. How can you not see it? I’ve felt so alone these past few months. It’s like you’re here but not entirely. Your mind is always somewhere else, always thinking about the band and never about us.”

“What am I supposed to do?” he had asked hotly. “The band is my everything.”

“And what am I?” You asked. The question only mildly offended you, a shot right to your heart. Because if the band was his everything, what were you in comparison? “A distraction until you get everything you want? I can’t keep being that.”

“No!” he protested. “You’re not a distraction. You’re━” He stopped himself short, brows furrowing. “You can’t keep pinning this all on me. You just don’t trust me, do you? You never did. Always thinking I’m with some other girl when I’m not with you━”

“That’s not true,” You admonished.

“Isn’t it?” Jungkook retaliated.

“I don’t want to hear it,” You had said at once. Your tone was final, a decisive ending to your argument with him. “My mind’s already been made up, Jungkook. I don’t think we should see each other again until we sort all this out ━ or, until you sort out whatever your priorities are.”

Jungkook’s stare had hardened, a frown deeply etching into his face. He had straightened up then, perplexed and upset with your standoffish demeanour, as if thinking this surely meant nothing to you. But little did he know this would become one of the hardest decisions you would have to make.

“Fine,” he said rigidly. “If that’s how it is, then I’m gone. You’ll never have to see me again.”

You hadn’t known at the time just how terribly you had messed up ━ neither had Jungkook. He had left before you could stop him, or before either of you could change your minds. Because nothing’s worse than a broken heart, blinded by stubborn and defensive rage. Accusatory fingers and blaming him or you wouldn’t heal the wounds that had already formed, and ending things seemed to only make it worse, months of lonely heartache without Jungkook to further prove just that…

The last time you spoke to Jungkook, you told him you never wanted to see him again ━ or, at least, that seems to be how he interpreted it.

Now, you were standing in the midst of his domain, surrounded by everyone in his public sphere of friends and colleagues and acquaintances, and there was certainly no way of escaping him.

You were starting to think you’re losing mind, because you’d truly have to be insane to have worked up the nerve to agree to go with Dahyun to a party being held celebrating the band’s recent tremendous success and headlining their first world tour. Their manager, Jin, had personally reached out to you and Dahyun, calling you as a means of asking you to attend, though you had given him a timid and dismissive response at first. If it hadn’t been for Dahyun purposely and almost quite literally dragging you out under the premise that “even if you don’t want to see Jungkook, you at least owe it to the boys to go,” you don’t think you’d even be here. But while you didn’t know where you stood with Jungkook anymore, that didn’t mean you weren’t still proud of him or the rest of the boys. It just became harder to bask in their success with them when you had gone from knowing every detail of their lives, of Jungkook’s life, to knowing only what you could hear from gossiping fans around you, or plastered in tabloids, or all over any form of social media.

The party is held at some sort of fancy lavish restaurant, the entire back room rented out by the band’s record label and management, and is filled with dozens of people you don’t know. Fortunately, you and Dahyun aren’t left alone for very long, as an elated Jin and Jimin, the appointed lead singer, bustle their way through the crowd to you almost as soon as you arrive, leaving very little time for you to feel so awkward that you consider running away again. Jimin, in all his spritely and extravagant blue haired disposition, wastes no time in engulfing you both in a comforting hug as if months hadn’t passed since you’ve last seen them.

“Glad you guys could make it!” Jin smiles from over Jimin’s shoulder.

“It’s been forever,” Jimin affirms.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Dahyun says. “I’m surprised you guys didn’t forget about us, considering you’re big rockstars now.”

“Rockstar is a bit of an overstatement.” An effortlessly charming smirk unfurls on Jimin’s face, which seems to immediately dazzle Dahyun. “Besides, we could never forget you. Hey, come with me to find the guys. I think we could all use some time to catch up━”

He places his hand on the small of Dahyun’s back as he guides her away, leaving you with Jin. A moment of silence passes, in which time you can feel the boy’s eyes lingering on you.

“He knows you’re coming tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jin says carefully, treading over his words lightly. It’s too painfully obvious who he’s talking about, though you’re fortunate he doesn’t bother mentioning Jungkook’s name anyway. “There’s no point in hiding. I think you should talk to him.”

“I━” You trail off uselessly, your voice croaking. Fearing an imminent breakdown, you shake your head. Then, holding your chin a little higher, Jin’s startled to hear you pretend as if he hadn’t said anything. “It really is good to see you guys again. If you’ll excuse me, I think I need a drink.”

And you’re gone once more before he can say anything else. On your lonesome, you find refuge at the bar, though you only order water because you’re certain you won’t be able to stomach anything stronger. You don’t know how long you spend there, blankly staring at a spot on the wall as your mind wanders everywhere and yet nowhere at all until━

“Y/N?”

There it is again. The familiar sound of his voice, only this time it’s much more attainable, closer to your world and not elsewhere so high in the clouds like a hopeful dream. You brace yourself before turning to face him.

This close, Jungkook looks breathtakingly and painfully beautiful.

As always, he’s adorned in all black, the first few buttons of the silky blouse he’s wearing left undone so that it teases the exposed flesh of his collarbones and the rose tattoo that inks his chest, the thorny stems crawling up the side of his neck just below his ear, accompanied by a pair of leather pants. He’s the same as ever. The same imperfect tattoos that decorate his fingers and arms that you’ve always loved, the same ring-clad fingers painted a chipped black, the same hoop accentuating his button nose. His hair is still his natural dark ebony color (something he’s seemed to stick with much more as of late despite dyeing it wild colours throughout his past), only it’s a little longer than you last remembered, and the sides of his head are shaved in the form of an undercut. You’re foolishly surprised to find he still looks the same, but almost a year away from someone can both change nothing and yet everything all at once.

“Jungkook…” You want to say something more, but your words fall short.

It’s hard to tell if he’s angry or upset at seeing you there, but you don’t think he’s either, and you have an inkling of a thought that he purposely sought you out amongst the many faces. Instead, he looks hesitant, apprehensive, as if dreading how you’ll respond to see him. As if you’ll yell at him, push him away. You do neither, fortunately.

Just when the dense silence starts to become almost unbearable, Jungkook clears his throat. “I━ Wow… You look great.”

You blink once, a flustered blush warming your face that you hope he doesn’t notice. “Oh. Thank you. You do, too.”

His eyes flicker over your presence as he nods absentmindedly. Then, he’s offering you a pretty smile, soft and sweet in nature. No malice, or ill-intent. “Um━ How have you been?”

You hate this. You hate the awkward pauses, the prolonged periods of silence. A year ago, even despite knowingly pining for one another, your moments alone with Jungkook were never so terrible. He always found a way to say something cheekily flirtatious even when you were just friends, if only because he knew it would make you blush and giggle because, no matter how many times you would roll your eyes or nudge his sides, he also knew you secretly loved it. All the inside jokes, the milestones shared together, the ardent fleeting touches ━ where did it all go? And while you were both noticeably trying to maintain the peace and pleasantry between one another, it didn’t feel the same. It felt forced, fake. Distracted.

“I’ve been good,” You lie. “How about you? Actually, don’t answer that━” You let out a breathless chuckle. “You’ve clearly been doing amazing. I mean, your album, and your world tour. And tomorrow you’ve got a big day with the hometown show. I heard it sold out in the first ten minutes.”

“Something like that,” Jungkook says modestly. “It’s been kind of crazy. Namjoon says it’s good, but I miss━ I just miss a lot of how it used to be. The slow pace. I dunno. The quick burn up is quick to burn out, right?”

“Maybe,” You admit. “But I think you’ve all got it in you. You’ve worked so hard for this moment. Enjoy it while you’re in it. You deserve it, Jungkook.”

His stare softens as it meets yours. “Thanks.”

Another beat of silence passes. He looks as if he’s warring with himself, as if he’s fighting the urge to say something more, gnawing at his lower lip, brows knitting together.

“Yo, Jeon!” A foreign voice from amongst the crowd beckons aloud abruptly for the boy.

Jungkook glances over his shoulder swiftly in search of the source, then waves his hand as if to motion he’ll be there later. Then, he turns back to you. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I won’t keep you,” You say. “I know you’re busy.”

“But━” He stops himself, his jaw clamping shut. Changing his mind, he decides to ask hopefully, “Will you be at the show tomorrow?”

“Of course.” The affirmation seems to relieve him, even though it’s a spontaneous decision made by you on the spot. Before this moment, you hadn’t been so sure you could go.

“Promise?”

You can’t help but shake your head, a chuckle slipping past your lips at the innocent boyish question he asks. “Yes, Jungkook.”

His smile widens a little more, however sheepish it may be. “Then can you promise me one more thing?”

“What?” You quirk a brow, intrigued to say the least.

“Will you drop by the hotel we’re staying at tomorrow morning, so I can take you out for a coffee? Just to catch up. It’s been a while,” he says timidly. Then, feeling a little stupid for being so bold, scrambles to explain himself. “And no pressure if you don’t want to. I just thought━”

You can’t possibly say no. Not when it comes to Jungkook, all your past struggles seemingly vanishing without a trace. “I’d like that a lot, Jungkook.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Then he’s positively beaming, his self-indulgent grin making your own heart flutter in your chest. When he leaves your side that night, you find yourself looking forward to the future perhaps a little too optimistically. But how terrible could grabbing coffee with your ex be, if you had survived the first wretched encounter?

So, in the morning when you wake, there’s not a stutter in your step or a wavering flicker of your confidence as you make your way to the Four Seasons hotel Jungkook had told you to from the night before. In fact, a selfish part of you almost thinks that maybe things will start to look up. That maybe you and Jungkook can finally make amends. That maybe you never had a reason to fear Jungkook breaking your heart if he made such an effort to heal it.

The hotel itself is one of the most luxurious ones in Seoul, a considerable contrast from when the boys were slumming it on friends’ couches and in their run-down van touring the country. The room Jungkook tells you to meet him at is one of the hotel’s grand suites, located on the higher levels of the building. But as soon as you reach the landing and have begun making your way towards the designated door, it flings open and a pretty girl comes stumbling out. She’s giggling at something that has just happened inside, her hair a dishevelled mess which she ruffles up in an attempt to fix it. She’s adorned in a pretty little dress, the skirt of which is hiked a little higher up and one strap falling down her shoulder, as she clings her shoes and bag to her chest. She smiles at you on the way past, though she’s too far gone in her own little daze that you wonder if she even notices you at all.

But you certainly notice her, and, all at once, your reverie of him and what could be comes crashing to the ground once more.

Maybe you should have stayed, should have waited for Jungkook to let him explain, but you were too afraid to hear an answer you weren’t looking for. You try desperately not to imagine Jungkook loving someone else. You try not to think about him holding her the same way he held you, his lips finding purchase on some other girl. But by trying to avoid the thought, it beckons the unwarranted memories of how it felt to be loved all over by him once upon a time. You wonder how many girls he’s hooked up with in your time apart, and the overwhelming sense of regret washes over you.

You don’t bother to wait. You know fleeing is the easiest option rather than facing your fear, but you’re far too timid of rejection again. Instead, even before you can approach Jungkook’s hotel room and knock on the door, you turn on your heels and run.

You’re long gone by the time Jungkook comes to the door, prying it open in search of you on a whim. When he doesn’t see you, he glances up and down the hallway but to no avail. Namjoon comes slinking past inside then in his own disoriented haze, having just woken up from moments ago when the girl he had taken back to their room the night before left. Even then, Jungkook had warned the rhythm guitarist against bringing the girl back, pointing out the fact that they had much to do today ahead of their concert. Namjoon had promised it wouldn’t be long, that she would be gone in the morning, and Jungkook was fortunate enough that the suite had two separate bedrooms on the opposite ends of one another so that Jungkook didn’t have to hear whatever it was the pair were doing in the other.

“Did Mina leave?” Namjoon asks through a yawn, digging the heels of his palms into his tired eyes. When Jungkook nods, a sliver of a reminiscent smug grin tugs at Namjoon’s lips. “You missed out, Jungkook.”

The cheeky quip is met with a roll of Jungkook’s eyes. “I’m sure I’ll survive. You know I’m not like that.”

Like that━ As in midnight hook-ups and cheap thrills alike. He tried it once, far ago when you had first broken up with him, on a drunken spur of a moment as a way of healing the anguish in his heart. It hadn’t worked then; he assumed it would never work.

Namjoon seems to understand this immediately. He gives Jungkook a look that the boy doesn’t notice. “Well… is Y/N here yet?”

“No. But I’m sure she’ll be here,” Jungkook grimaces. He hopes. “Something probably came up.”

Namjoon clasps a reassuring hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, humming aloud, “Good luck, dude.”

But you never arrive, even though Jungkook waits for most of the morning, nervous eyes flickering to the door at every commotion outside, running to check only to see room service delivering breakfast or concierge showing guests to their rooms. He has no choice but to give up on the thought of you coming when Jin knocks on their door, prompting the boys to get a start on their day. Interviews and soundcheck await, but how could he possibly go on with his life without knowing what happened to you?

Which is why you stay on his mind for the rest of the day, distracting him in every aspect, mixing up his words when he’s in the midst of his interview, tripping up on stage as the boys set up and begin to rehearse. As the hours wane down to just an hour before the show, the thought of performing in front of thousands of fans starts to make him nervous and he doesn’t know why. He’s done this countless times before, almost nightly during the tour, so what stops him now? Of course he knows the answer, had grown all too accustomed to the feeling the first few months in which the break up had been so recent. It would always be about you.

But just before the show starts, Jungkook is making his way backstage from the greenroom, where the band had been waiting, to the stage. Fiddling with his in-ear piece, he almost doesn’t notice you and Dahyun weaving your way through the roadies and sound tech, being guided by Jin to the pit on the side of the stage where only family and friends are allowed. You don’t see him, and there’s a split moment where he thinks he should just let you go, until he doesn’t.

As he makes his way to you, the tour manager for the band intervenes part way, shouting out to the boy. “Where are you going? We’re on in five, Jungkook!”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back━” He waves the manager off as politely as he can, wasting no time to chase after you. He calls out your name, though it drowns out in the sound of the music being blasted through the speakers of the arena and the screaming fans. “Y/N, wait up!”

He’s relieved when he sees you stop in your tracks, turning to face him as Dahyun and Jin become lost in the chaos of the backstage. He comes to stand just before you, smiling breathlessly at you, unaware of the way your shoulders tense at the sight of him.

“You didn’t show up this morning,” he says as a way of greeting, his voice a curious prob. “What happened?”

You try desperately not to get lost in his big beautiful eyes, laced with such hope. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest, looking away. “Something came up.”

It’s then that Jungkook senses something is wrong. You’re upset with him, though he can’t tell why. Aside from the obvious rift in your relationship that had initially split you two up, you had been so pleasant to see him the night before. But he doesn’t give up just yet. “Well… you’re here now.”

You meet his gaze with your own hardened one. “For the boys.”

A shot right to his heart almost makes Jungkook gasp for air. He flinches, and then his stare softens, and you wish he wouldn’t look at you like that, out of fear that you might just relapse into his arms.

“What’s wrong?” He closes the distance between the two of you. He wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you, but refrains with much difficulty. There’s dozens of things that could be wrong, and he braces himself for your retaliation. “You didn’t want to come, did you?”

When you don’t respond, but also don’t stray from his side, Jungkook hurries to speak again if only to fill the tense silence.

“Look, last night… Maybe it was just me, but last night seemed like things were okay,” he says. “Was I wrong to feel that way?”

“Jungkook…”

“Please, just let me know,” he begs. “Because you’re all I can think about these days, it’s driving me crazy. And I don’t know what’s going on, but the reason I wanted to see you this morning was because I hate how things ended between us, and I wanted to tell you…” He swallows nervously as he trails off uncertainly. “I wanted to tell you that I’m still in love with you. And I can’t get you out of my head. These months away from you made me realize that I━”

Suddenly, you’re shaking your head and he knows you don’t believe him. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets saying it, if only because they seem to enliven you. Now, you push yourself away from the boy. “I’m not doing this right now. You’re not doing this right now.”

As if to further your point, the band’s tour manager can be heard calling out frantically for the boy. “Two minutes, Jungkook!”

But Jungkook is hardly paying attention now, instead solely focused on you. “Please, Y/N━”

“No, you don’t get to say that to me,” You admonish hotly. You can’t bite the words back, no matter how hard you try. “You don’t love me. You think you love me, but you don’t.”

His jaw clenches, and his brows furrow into a frustrated stare. “I do.”

“You don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Stop.” The harsh word makes Jungkook clamp his mouth shut. You shake your head furiously, but you know it’s only to distract yourself so that you don’t let the tears fall. “You’re being selfish, Jungkook. You don’t get to take all of me, love all of me, and leave, only to come back months later and pretend you’re still in love with me. And whatever this━” You gesture vaguely between the two of you, “is, or was, doesn’t exist anymore. We both need to stop pretending otherwise.”

Jungkook winces, eyes tinged with pain. “You don’t mean that.”

You don’t respond. Elsewhere, his tour manager starts to grow impatient, scolding the boy aloud, “Jungkook, we’re gonna be late. Hurry up!”

“Yeah, I’ll be there!” Jungkook calls back, irritated. Maybe he is being selfish. He’s wasting precious time by not leaving, all the hard work that the crew put into tonight’s show, and the fans awaiting his and the band’s arrival. He can still hear the crowd, this time their buzzing voices amalgamating into unanimous chanting muffled by the walls that sounds akin to the band’s name.

“You should go,” You say now. “Don’t wanna disappoint them.”

But he’d throw it all away for you if you told him to. He promised you that even before he had left for tour, before the band had been signed. Had you forgotten? Because he surely hadn’t.

“Y/N…”

“Good luck out there.”

Then, you’re gone before Jungkook can even make a move to stop you ━ but even if he did, what could he do to make you stay? The feat seemed impossible, and you always seem to find a way to slip from his grasp no matter what he does. Only this time he has no choice but to let you go, out of fear of being berated further by his tour manager or angering the boys so much to the point where he gets kicked out of the band.

He makes it on stage in time, the band filing out to take their places one at a time, deafening screams blowing out their in-ear pieces that stand no chance as each member joins the stage. The lights fizzle out until complete darkness cloaks the venue, but Jungkook still looks for you. He finds you in the pit on the side of the stage, Jin and Dahyun standing beside you, and finds it hard to keep his eyes off of you even though you attempt to pretend as if he’s not even there.

After their first adrenaline-filled opening song of the night, Jimin takes to the microphone to greet the crowd who scream back an indiscernible shout as, elsewhere, you notice Jungkook pry himself away from the microphone stand on his side of the stage to wave the rest of the boys over to Hoseok’s drum kit. They murmur amongst themselves briefly, though they go unnoticed by Jimin or the crowd as the lead singer entertains them.

“Seoul! It’s good to be back. We’ve missed you all so much━”

Jimin’s words get cut short when Jungkook, having just parted ways with the rest of his members for their impromptu meeting, beckons the lead singer over, out of range of the microphone. They seem to discuss something just as shortly as Jungkook had talked with the rest of the boys, in which time Jimin nods understandingly, then steps away from the microphone. Then, Jungkook takes to the microphone, the rings on his fingers glistening under the spotlight as he grips the stand.

“I know the night’s only getting started,” Jungkook’s voice wavers as he speaks, “but we’re gonna slow things down for a moment. We hope you don’t mind.”

Intrigued murmurs echo around the crowd, suddenly buzzing with excitement as they watch Jungkook with eager eyes. A few encouraging bellows has Jungkook smiling smally. Jin, on the other hand, looks perplexed.

“What is he doing?” Jin asks no one in particular, a quizzical look on his face. “This isn’t part of their set.”

“I think a lot of you might know this next song,” Jungkook continues, “but I don’t think I’ve ever expressed how much it means to me. This next one, I wrote for a special someone, and it sort of helped us achieve all of this. So, I think it’s time that person knows how much they mean to me.”

Jungkook glances nervously over at the boys standing behind him, each in their own respective spots. Then, sweeping his gaze across the crowd, he finally finds you already staring up at him. His own eyes soften into a look of longing, however hardened by past tribulations and sorrow it may be. As if he’s determined not to lose you again; determined to make it up to you.

“This next one is for Y/N,” he says timidly. He has to turn away from you in the next second, afraid he might just break down before the fans and the boys and you. “I’m sorry I messed up.”

As the boys take their place, with Jimin taking an acoustic and fading back from the limelight, you wonder why. But then you hear it, the familiar beginning chords making up the song you had so wholeheartedly claimed you hated. Only this time they’re gentler, made up of acoustic strums of a guitar, Hoseok’s drums, and Yoongi’s keys, all amalgamating into a pretty song almost unrecognizable.

Then, Jungkook starts singing, and what was once a wistful dreamy song of prospective lovers suddenly turns into a melancholic requiem for you. Some lyrics are changed, present tense turning to the past, and Jungkook sings his way throughout the entirety of the song in contrast to the one that plays all over the radio featuring the other member’s voices. The fans sing along, their voices melding with Jungkook’s into some sort of celestial mellifluous choir, and you’re left no longer wondering if the fans would ever know the meaning behind the song that Jungkook had brought to life. Because now, it wasn’t just Jungkook singing to you; it was the whole world. And yet, paradoxically at the same time, it felt all that much more intimate. As if it were just you and him once again, seated on the couch in his small apartment, listening to the beginnings of what would be their number one selling song.

Above all else, you realize that you don’t seem to hate the song as much you claimed to.

That night, you can’t sleep.

You find yourself leaving the venue earlier than everyone else, even when the boys invite you and Dahyun to join them for celebratory drinks, returning to your home in the hopes of forgetting the night altogether. Instead, you stay up tossing and turning, your mind filled with memories consisting of only Jungkook and his haunting voice singing to you, and for you. But at some point during the night nearing one or two in the morning, just when you give up on the idea of sleep, the sound of incessant knocking at your front door rouses you from your trance.

When you finally answer the door, you’re more than surprised to see that Jungkook stands on the other side of the threshold as if coming to you from a dream. But then you register the fact that he’s a complete mess. Dark circles line his weary eyes, now smudged with that faint hint of charcoal liner he had worn for the concert, hair so messily mused beyond repair, and you notice quickly that he’s crying, fresh tears glazing over his pupils and streaking down his face. It’s startling to see him in such shambles, a complete contrast to how effortlessly charming and confident he usually portrays himself. But though you’ve seen him cry before on various occasions, now is all the more unsettling.

“I━I’m sorry.” It’s the first thing he says, screwing his eyes shut tightly as he shakes his head. He fumbles over his words, slurring them together in his rush to get them out. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, but I needed to see you.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No, no, I swear━” He pries his eyes open to meet your desolate stare, tears unabashedly falling from his lashes. His voice thins with desperation. “You said we need to stop pretending, but I’m not pretending. I never have been. And if you think ━ if you truly believe ━ that there’s nothing here between us anymore… Tell me. Right here, right now. And I’ll leave you alone forever, you’ll never have to see me again. I just━ I’ve missed you every moment and it kills me.”

You’re silent for a long period, pitying gaze sweeping over him, but he doesn’t care if he looks insane. He just needs you to know how he feels.

“Well, how do you think I felt?” You ask the question carefully, but then the memories come flooding back and the semblance of a scowl forms on your face. “You leave and suddenly everywhere I look I see you. Your song is playing everywhere, you and the guys are everywhere, and I’m reminded every day about how we ended. About how you left me.”

Jungkook blinks. He shakes his head stubbornly, the nerves in the corner of his jaw fluttering as he grits his teeth. “You were the one who said we should take a break.”

“A break!” You snap sternly. “Fuck, Jungkook. I didn’t want you out of my life forever. I wanted you to fight for me.”

“No, don’t put this all on me,” Jungkook pleads helplessly. “I have always fought for you. But the minute things got rough, you bailed. You told me you never wanted to see me again. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“I was scared!” You try to swallow the tears away that start to form as a lump in your throat but to no avail. “I was, and I still am, so fucking scared of losing you. And you━ It felt like you gave me no choice. Like you were over it. I would have wanted to make things work but you left. You just… You left, and suddenly it was like you were never in my life at all. Seven months, and I get no word from you.”

“I fucked up, okay!” He cries out so suddenly, it silences you at once. He bites at his lip, and straightens up half-heartedly, running a hand through his hair. When he meets your stare this time, he’s zealous yet sincere. “I know that I messed up. I know. And it fucking kills me every single day. I don’t know where it went wrong, but it did, and I know it’s all my fault. When you said we should take a break and I agreed, I was only thinking about you. Because I knew I was disappointing you every day, and I was afraid that was all I would ever do, and you don’t deserve that. I thought it would be better this way, if I was just gone from your life for good. But I can’t forget you.”

“How can I trust you?” You ask. When his pained stare gawks at you, you tilt your chin a little higher. “I came by your hotel room yesterday morning, just like you asked, only to see that girl leaving.”

Jungkook’s gawk turns into a dumbfounded expression. He looks weary as he shakes his head, as if struggling to keep up with the way you accuse him now. He tries not to focus on the fact that you actually came to the hotel, then feels inconsolably terrible when he realizes why he never got to see you. “That girl was Namjoon’s fling. We were sharing the suite, and they were in a whole other room. I didn’t even think about her━”

Your stare droops from him, and he knows he’s struggling to keep you on his side.

“Okay, fine. You want trust? I’ll give it to you,” he says. A newfound sense of confidence seems to possess him, though he approaches the topic with extra caution anyway. “After we broke up, I was crushed. I couldn’t move on from you, and the guys thought I should get drunk, find a random girl to bring back to our hotel one night on tour. And I listened, because I wanted to forget you, but it didn’t work. All I could think about was you. Every time she touched me, every time she kissed me, I could only imagine it was you. And when she left that night, I broke down because I felt like such a fucking idiot. I instantly regretted it. Like, even though you and I weren’t together, I still did something to hurt you by sleeping with that girl. And all it did was hurt me too in the process.”

He pushes himself forward, taking a step over the threshold. Even despite him admitting his wrongs to you, you can’t find it in yourself to hate him. Because, at the end of it all, he’s here at your doorstep, pleading for you to forgive him, but he had already won the moment your eyes had landed on him.

“You’re the reason I am who I am today.” His voice is hoarse when he speaks, almost in a whisper. “That I get to do what I love for a living. But all of it means nothing without you. You saw me at my worst, and my best. And you were the best I ever had, and I ruined it, and the worst part of it all is that there’s nothing I can do to make up for it. But I promise I can make it better ━ I can make it right again ━ if you just give me a chance.”

There’s a short pause filled with poignant silence in which Jungkook thinks you’ll push him away or scream at him. He’s fortunate when you do neither; instead, he hears you whisper faintly.

“Kiss me, Jungkook.”

And it’s more than enough for him. His heart thrums in delight as he wastes no time in reaching out for you. His hands are warm as they come to grasp at your face, holding you delicately; then he’s leaning in to you, drawing you closer and closer until his lips are pressed against yours. It’s unadulterated, but not without feverish passion, noses smushing together in both your eager hastiness to close the distance between the two of you. It doesn’t last long either, though that’s partly because Jungkook can taste your tears mingling on your lips, and can feel your faint smile form against his mouth. Kissing him feels both foreign yet familiar at the same time. You know the feel, the taste, and the sense of comfort that comes with it, but months apart from one another has left it feeling different.

Jungkook’s thumb wipes away at the tears on your face. “Why are you crying?”

It’s a useless question, he knows, but he needs something to fill the silence. He’s relieved when he hears you snicker. “Because I miss you, you idiot. And I’m sorry I’ve been acting like such an idiot. I’ve messed everything up.”

His own shoulders quiver with contented mirth. “It’ll be okay.” As he leans in once more for another kiss, you can feel him murmur against your mouth, “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Then make it right,” You say, “right here and now.”

“I’ll do anything for you,” he promises earnestly.

Jungkook understands the underlying yearning in your voice even without having you explain yourself. He knows, if only because he can feel it too. As his hands fall to your waist, fingers digging into your skin, your own arms wrap around his neck and pull him into your apartment. He has you pressed up against the nearest wall within seconds, kissing at your throat, then up to your jawline.

“It’s been so long,” he sighs.

You hum in agreement, though your mind is already spinning, and all you can muster is a weak yet urgent croak of his name. “Jungkook.”

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging at the roots and he croons with delight. His lips finally meet yours again, only this time he lets his tongue lav at your lower lip. Almost as soon as he does so, you notice something strange. It takes a moment for you to register the small metallic object that grazes your lower lip but when you do, you pull away from the boy.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks in a confused dazed.

“Is that…” You rasp. “Did you get your tongue pierced?”

Suddenly, Jungkook is smirking, one brow shooting up to his hairline in a smug demeanour. He sticks out his tongue for you to see the silver ball poking through and you almost moan at the sight of it as the thought entices you.

“Oh.” Your face warms with a flustered blush. “That’s new.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Always wanted to get it done. Guess I was saving it for the right moment.”

“Right moment, huh?” You scoff as if the implications don’t already have your thighs rubbing together. ��Care to explain?”

“I think you’ll find out soon enough.”

You dissolve into a fit of giggles, marvelling at the way Jungkook’s familiar flirtatious bantering can soothe your troubled heart at once. It’s almost as if time hasn’t lapsed between the two of you.

“I’ve missed this,” You sigh. “I’ve missed you, Jungkook.”

You spot him smiling before he’s kissing you again, this time his tongue slipping past your parted lips to meet yours midway. The piercing is strange to adjust to, but you get used to it quickly, humming at the feeling of it against the soft flesh of your tongue. It’s easy to get lost in one another’s lips as you pull and tug at Jungkook, guiding him to your bedroom, nearly tripping and stumbling over one another in the process. He knows the path like the back of his hand, the same way he knows every curve and dimple of your body as his greedy hands explore you. He has you sprawled out beneath him on the bed in a matter of seconds, carelessly shedding each other of your clothes until you’re left naked and he’s without a shirt.

As he’s tugging off the hoodie you’re wearing, he realizes two things abruptly. One: you’re not wearing anything beneath it, your bare body dazzling him at once. And, two: a sudden thought jogs his memory that makes him ponder aloud, “Is this my sweater?”

“Yes,” You admit sheepishly.

He smirks. “Was wondering where it went.”

“You forgot to take it back when…” You don’t finish your sentence. Instead, you tug your fingers at the hair at the nape of his neck, as if scared he’ll leave again. He doesn’t. Instead, he nestles his body between your legs, tonguing patterns on your neck. “I wear it sometimes, especially when I’m missing you. I don’t know… It just━ It still smells like you, even after all this time.”

Jungkook’s heart nearly implodes. He wonders briefly if he’d prefer fucking you without or with the hoodie; but then he’s letting himself time to study your naked body and he deduces he needs to gaze at you in your entirety a little longer.

“Keep talking,” he murmurs. He starts kissing down your body now, starting from your throat to your collarbones, between the valley of your breasts, then your navel. “Tell me more. How badly did you miss me?”

“So badly,” You whimper. Your legs instinctively part to make way for him as he shifts downward, kissing just above your core. A shudder runs down your spine when he kisses the inside of your thigh. “Sometimes I’d put your sweater on and touch myself to the thought of you.”

He grunts against you, teeth softly biting at your flesh. His tongue pokes against your thigh, the metallic piercing a dully cold sensation as he licks upward to your core. He laps at your folds, as if to taste the glistening cum that starts to form.

Your breath audibly hitches in your throat, hips jutting forward to meet his mouth. “I missed your hands, and the way they made me feel. Missed your mouth between my legs. Missed cumming on your tongue, or your fingers.”

Now, you’re starting to understand what he meant by waiting for the right moment to use the piercing to its fullest potential. As he lifts his head higher to tongue at your clit, the piercing makes your head spin. The contrast between his soft tongue and the harsh metal works wonders against you, rubbing you just the right way that has you a moaning mess beneath him within a matter of seconds.

“Fuck━” You cry out, hands twisting in his hair. “My hands never feel the same. You always made me feel so good, Jungkook.”

He hums something in response, the sound reverberating up your spine. He busies himself by replacing his tongue with his finger, rubbing small, controlled circles against your clit as he lowers his mouth to your folds. He teases the piercing against the sensitive flesh before lapping at your insides, burrowing further into you.

“Ooh, Jungkook━”

The noise that eclipses your throat is a piqued sob of delight. The piercing that scratches against your walls has your insides throbbing, body twisting and turning beneath him. You grab at your breasts, fingers pinching at the perked buds as you imagine Jungkook’s hands in replace of yours.

His mouth wraps just right around you and he sucks hard, earning a beautiful moan from you. It doesn’t take long for you to draw closer to your high, sputtering and whimpering at every action he does. Soon he’s burrowing his face even closer against your core, nose nudging against your clit in a way that makes you writhe and squirm. Before he can get carried away (and he certainly could), Jungkook decides to come to a stop which seems to thoroughly surprise and upset you. When you feel his missing warmth between your legs and the sticky wet mess accentuated further by the cool air that hits you, you pout like a child.

“That’s not fair,” you whine.

“Sorry, baby. Need to feel you.” He pulls away from you and crawls over your body once more. He kisses your lips, sloppy and heated, and lets you taste your own succulence on your tongue. “God, I need to feel you so bad.”

You’re just as much startled as you were seconds ago to hear the slight whine in his voice, a sound hot enough to almost push you over the edge.

“I’ve missed you too, just so you know,” he moans, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers continue to scratch delicately at his scalp and he simpers delightfully against you. He ruts his hips eagerly against yours, the bulge in his pants rough against your core. “So fucking much.”

“How much?” Now it’s your turn to ask, your curiosity getting the best of you once you find your voice.

“Every day,” he sighs as he continues to grind his hips into yours. “Get so hard at the thought of you. Your pretty mouth moaning my name. Your hands in my hair, just like this━” You pull a little tighter at the roots of his locks, and he has to stifle his contented moan. “And your body━ Fuck, your body. You take my dick so well, baby.”

“Jungkook,” You mewl impatiently. “Wanna feel you in me.”

“Fuck, okay. Okay━”

He hastens to rid himself of his pants and you help, arms momentarily tangling with one another in your rush. Then he’s kneeling before you, one hand planted firmly on your hip, rings digging roughly against your skin, as his other hand wraps a fist around his hard length, slowly pumping himself. He guides the tip of his leaking cock to your core and pushes himself forward carefully. He easily slips past your folds, coaxed by your slick walls, that he has to pause to give you both time to adjust to the feeling. It’s just as he remembered, though somehow better, and he isn’t so sure how long he’ll last. You don’t know either, marvelling in the way he stretches you open.

“Oh, shit,” he grunts.

He watches as your jaw drops open in a silent gap, your eyes fixed only on his. You grab at his hips, fingers scratching delicately over the laurel tattoos inked there, prompting him to move. He does so in one languid movement, burying deeper and deeper into you until you feel so full and he feels so warm. He fucks into you a little sluggish at first, taking his time and enjoying the way your clenching walls feel around his throbbing cock. It’s a pace so maddening that it soon has the both of you panting, heavy moans filling the space around you. Your own fingers dig into his shoulders, his back, his hips ━ anything to keep a hold on reality as you slowly lose yourself to the pleasure. He reaches for one of your hands, eager to feel you in more ways than one, and laces his digits with yours, pressing your clasped palms above your head. You squeeze tightly, his name falling from your lips in a cry.

“Doing so good,” he mumbles through gritted teeth. “Feel so nice, baby.”

Jungkook grasps at your hips and flips the two of you over. He lands on his back on the soft mattress and you fumble to not break the pace. Firmly planting your hands on his chest, you grind against him, sweat coating your forehead. He watches you with a dark fascination, brows screwed together and jaw clenched as your own cum starts leaking down his length. Not wanting to waste another moment without being beside you, he sits up and shifts you in his lap. Then he pulls you close to him, chest pulled flush against chest to the point where he can feel the rapid beat of your heart against his. You whimper aloud, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as he guides your hips back and forth on him. There’s little to no space between your gyrating bodies, sweaty skin sticking to one another.

At some point, Jungkook notices you’re crying again, steady tears tangling in your lashes and wetting your face. Despite the way you’re driving him to near euphoria, he brushes your hair out of your face and manages to ask, “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m sorry━ fuck,” You gasp. He can tell you’re genuinely sympathetic for whatever’s making you cry but it’s hard for you to convey it properly when you’re still so consumed by him. “I’m so sorry━ I’m okay. I just━ You feel so good, Jungkook.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, rubbing tender circles against your waist that contrasts with the fierce burn between your legs. “You’re okay, baby. Doing so well for me, aren’t you? Cum for me, yeah?”

You won’t tell him why you’re crying ━ not yet, at least. But Jungkook thinks he knows why; he can feel it too. The bitter sense of longing and mingling regret for all the time lost. The overwhelming feeling of love of finally being reunited. You continue to roll your hips against his, and he, breathless, rubs his nose faintly against yours, resting his forehead against yours.

It doesn’t take much longer after that for you to come tumbling to you high. He strokes your hair so lovingly as you ride him recklessly, leisure rolls of your hips driving you to your high. When you cum, the feeling completely washes over you and electricity crackles in your veins, warming your entire body. He holds you close to his chest the entire time as you writhe with pleasure, your walls clenching around his cock.

“Fuck, I’m gonna━” His voice splinters off as you busy yourself by sucking a bruise onto the underside of his jaw.

He reaches his high moments later just as you’re beginning to wince at the feeling of oversensitivity. He grunts and groans, spilling his hot seed into you, and then, with his hips slammed against yours, grinds leisurely to ride out your highs.

Then, the room falls silent.

Neither of you move from your warm embrace, with you still perched on his lap, his cock softening inside you as his cum runs down his length and onto your thighs. Your face is hidden in the crook of his neck, and he waits until you’ve both calmed down from your orgasms. You’re running your fingers through his sweaty hair, but he knows you’re still sad. He kisses you all over in the meantime, a few ticklish kisses that make you smile sleepily and a few loving ones that have your heart swelling. Then, he gingerly shifts your head to look at him.

“Why were you crying?” he asks silently.

It takes you a moment to respond. You cling to him tightly when you do and all he can do is cradle you closer to him. “I don’t want this to be some kind of drunken one night stand thing. Like we both needed one last fuck to get over each other, or something."

“You mean more to me than a one night stand,” Jungkook says and it makes you smile smally, a little timidly. 

“That’s good,” You say, “because I’m not over you or us. I want us to work out. I love you too much to lose you again, and I’m scared this might be the last time I’ll ever see you.”

“I’m not letting that happen,” Jungkook shakes his head furiously. “I’d be an absolute idiot to let that happen. You won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere this time. You’re my priority, Y/N. You always have been. Not the band and definitely not the record label.”

“I’m sure the boys will love to hear that,” You snort to yourself.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure they’ll understand,” Jungkook grins. But you’re only joking, and you know he sort of is too. That’s not to say the band isn’t still important to him, but you take precedent over it. “Without you, I wouldn’t even have the chance to be where I am now.”

You nuzzle your nose against his own, and he steals one sweet kiss from you. 

“Do you really mean all that?”

“With my whole heart.”

And, when he says it, you know he means it. There’s no reason not to trust him.

You’ll both move eventually from one another’s arms, soft touches from Jungkook peeling you off of him and wrapping you in your covers before falling asleep beside you, and waking up in the morning with you in his arms. But, for now, it’s just you and him, a little broken still yet all the more in love.

While you both know healing a broken heart will take time, you’re both prepared for it because you’re both worth it to one another ━ and that’s all either of you really need in the end to make it right.

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work. 

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[modern-vellichor]

hello <3 i would love if you wrote a frank x reader fic in which reader opens up to frank for the first time and it scares him because of his past and his fear he might fall for you and put you in danger (angst with a fluffy ending maybe?) thank you i love your writing!!

i love you more anon also i'm sorry for this sweets warnings: violence, angst. super short

You had scars too.

Frank liked to run his thumb over the one on your hip. He never asked where it came from. He didn't know why he liked it. Maybe, in some sick and twisted way, he liked that you knew pain like he did. The scar was gaudy, raised, ragged. It wasn't caused by falling off a bike. This came from something painful.

You lay your head on Frank's bare chest, listening to his heart, feeling his chest rise and fall. On any other day, it would have lolled you to sleep. But now you had something caught in the back of your throat. Some words that settled in your chest, desperate to claw their way out. Frank could feel that you were tense. You shivered and so he pulled your duvet up around your shoulders and kissed your hairline.

"Why don't you ever ask?"

You had asked about every scar he had ever allowed you to see. You liked the story, the self preservation. You liked the aliveness, the human factor, the need to survive. The scars made Frank real. He didn't answer you.

"Please, ask," you beg quietly.

"I don't want to know."

"Why not? I know everything about you. Why don't you want to know about me?"

Frank shook his head and scoffed. You sat up and turned to face him. You looked heartbroken.

"Do you even know my last name?"

Frank rolled his eyes.

"Francis David Castiglione," you stated, Frank seemed almost shocked. "You changed your name to Castle before you joined the Marines. You met Maria and got her pregnant with Lisa after three months of being together."

"Shut it," Frank grunted angrily.

You pointed to a scar on his chest.

"Billy did that," you pointed to another. "You got that one in Kandahar. That one was from falling off your bike as a kid. Matt gave you that one as a warning."

Frank grabbed your wrist and instead of flinching, you pulled his hand towards your hip. You pushed his fingers into the scar until bruises were forming.

"I was mugged when I was sixteen. I was walking home from school, I had stayed late to finish a biology project. It was dark, and some dude pulled me into an alley. I only had my phone, he didn't believe me. He stabbed me, he threatened to kill me. He didn't, and I don't know why he didn't."

Frank recoiled. He moved away from you, far enough that you couldn't reach him. His brain reeled. All this time, he thought he had been protecting you, when really it was just neglect. You knew everything about him, and yet you still loved him with every fibre of your being. Frank knew nothing about you. He didn't know about your family, or where you grew up, or what your middle name was.

You clambered out of his bed. You stared at the faded green wallpaper as you pulled on your clothes. You looked holy in the warm light of the bedroom. Frank looked at the picture of Maria on his bedside table and was filled with regret.

"Don't go," he begged.

He reached out for you. He took your hand in his and studied it. There was another scar on your knuckle. He ran his thumb over it.

"What happened?" He asked earnestly.

"Scraped it on a tree a few months ago."

Your jeans were pulled halfway up your thighs. There was a fresh bruise just above the waistband. Frank pointed at it. He looked you in the eyes with an unrecognizable emotion, but with obvious sincerity. He wanted to know. He wanted you.

He pulled your forehead against his. His hand splayed over the nape of your neck. You shut your eyes. Frank pulled away to kiss the bridge of your nose. You kept your eyes shut as you felt his breath ghost over your ear. You smiled.

"I know your last name."